Author: Momo Chan

For three years, I built supply chains across Southeast Asia and carved out a billion-dollar empire for Liam Holt. The day I came back happened to be the third anniversary gala of Holt Group. I pushed open the banquet hall doors, still dusty from the road. But Liam was standing in the blazing light, arm-in-arm with the wealthy socialite Serena Walsh. That same night, Liam handed me divorce papers. “Ava, the company is under investigation for money laundering. I need Serena’s support. Don’t worry—even after the divorce, I’ll still love you.” When I said nothing, he took my hand and continued with practiced tenderness: “Serena doesn’t have your skills. I’ll still need you to guide her through the work. From now on, we’re all family.” I looked at his hollow face and signed without hesitation. Liam thought I was a vine that could only survive wrapped around him. He had no idea that the lifeblood of Holt Group was never in Serena’s hands. Once the papers were signed, Liam folded them away with satisfaction. “Thank you for your patience, Ava.” He walked over and reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stepped aside. His hand froze in mid-air. He pulled it back like nothing had happened, then reached into his suit jacket and produced a black card. “Take this. The PIN is still Noah’s birthday. The divorce is just a formality, but I know it hurts. Think of it as compensation.” I took the card and slipped it into the pocket of my mud-stained jacket. “This is the least I deserve.” My calm tone made him frown slightly. He seemed to want tears, accusations—not this cold indifference. The lounge door swung open. Serena walked in carrying two glasses of champagne, all smiles. “Mrs. Holt… oh, I mean, Ava—is that outfit custom-made from Southeast Asia? It has a certain… wild charm.” She held out a glass to me, the contempt in her eyes completely undisguised. I didn’t take it. “Miss Walsh, I’m not divorced yet. You should still be calling me Mrs. Holt.” Serena’s face went pale for a moment. She looked to Liam for help. Liam immediately smoothed things over: “Ava just got back. She’s tired—just kidding around.” He put his arm around Serena’s shoulders, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it: “Go entertain the guests. I’ll be right there.” After Serena left, the warmth faded from Liam’s face. “Ava, stop being petty. The bigger picture matters. You know I’m doing all of this for the company—for us.” “Where’s our son?” “In the side room. My assistant Ethan is with him.” I didn’t bother with another word and walked out. I pushed open the side room door. Three-year-old Noah was sitting quietly in the corner of a sofa, holding a battered old Transformer. When he saw me, his eyes lit up instantly. He scrambled across the room on his little legs. “Mommy!” I crouched down and pulled him tight against my chest. He smelled like warm milk—the same familiar scent I’d missed for three years. In those three years, I had missed so much of his growing up. “Noah’s been such a good boy.” Liam came in behind me. He crouched down too, reaching out to ruffle Noah’s hair like a devoted father. But Noah instinctively pressed closer into me. The distance between father and son made Liam’s hand freeze again. Just then, Serena followed him in, pulling a beautifully wrapped gift box from her clutch. “Noah, look—I brought you a present. It’s the brand-new LEGO Star Destroyer.” But Noah just buried his face in my neck and whispered: “Mommy, I want the one you got me.” What I’d gotten him was a marked-down toy from an airport gift shop on the way back. Serena’s expression soured. I stood up with Noah in my arms and looked at Liam. “I’m taking Noah home.” “Fine.” Liam nodded, then added: “The money laundering files—I’ll have Ethan send them over first thing tomorrow. Come up with a damage control plan as fast as you can. And Serena… help her get up to speed.” He said it like everything I did for him was simply expected. I looked at him and, for a moment, I almost laughed. “Liam, do you know what I brought back with me from this trip?” He assumed I was about to claim credit for the billion-dollar contracts, and a flicker of irritation crossed his eyes. “I know you worked hard. Don’t worry—the company’s keeping track of everything you’ve contributed.” “No.” I shook my head, and said each word clearly: “What I brought back is the engagement gift—for you and Miss Walsh.” Then I walked past him with Noah in my arms and didn’t look back. I buckled Noah into his car seat and made a call. On the other end of the line was my old partner from Wall Street. “Ava, you’re back?” “Yeah.” I watched the city lights blur past the window. “Get the debt liquidation proceedings against the Walsh Group started.” “Now? But Liam—” “No more waiting.” I cut him off. “He’s already chosen his path.” And I was choosing mine.

The next morning. Top floor of Holt Group. Ethan set a thick stack of “classified documents” in front of me, his expression uneasy. “Ms. Linne… Mr. Holt has asked that you review these materials related to the money laundering investigation. He needs a legal mitigation strategy within three days.” I glanced at the cover. “Ms. Linne?” I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Didn’t take long to change your tune.” Ethan lowered his head and said nothing. Ten minutes later, I closed the file. My eyes had gone cold. The documents were real. But the so-called “investigation targeting Holt Group” was not. The data was riddled with inconsistencies. There was no real criminal exposure here. At most, this was a smokescreen—fabricated by Liam to strip assets and shuffle funds. He had invented a crisis that didn’t exist, then used it to pressure me into signing those divorce papers. The whole thing had one purpose: to get me to step aside and make room for Serena. “Where’s Liam?” “Mr. Holt is… he’s hosting a celebration for Miss Walsh.” I stood up and walked toward the conference room. Liam stood in front of the projection screen, looking every inch the conquering hero. The screen displayed the Southeast Asia herbal supply chain—the one I’d spent three years and nearly my life building. “This breakthrough in our overseas supply chain was made possible entirely by Miss Walsh, who leveraged her family’s connections across Southeast Asia. She is the reason Holt Group has risen from the ashes!” Liam’s voice rang out, barely containing his pride. Serena sat beside him, smiling with practiced grace. The executives fell over themselves to agree: “Miss Walsh is truly remarkable—she’s only just returned and she’s already achieved something extraordinary!” I stood in the doorway and watched this farcical little theft play out. Liam spotted me. A flash of panic crossed his face, then was quickly replaced by cold dismissal. “Ava, what are you doing here? If you’re not feeling well, go rest.” He crossed the room quickly and dropped his voice low: “Serena is officially the Head of Supply Chain now. Your job is to be a ‘consultant.’ Nothing more.” I looked at him, and the last flicker of warmth in my chest went out completely. “Don’t worry, Mr. Holt,” I said evenly. “I’m only here to transfer the non-performing debt portfolio.” In the divorce agreement, I had waived all rights to real estate. The only thing I took was a three-hundred-million-dollar collection of “dead debt”—debts Holt Group had been carrying overseas for years, written off as uncollectible. When I brought it up, contempt flickered in Liam’s eyes. Those debts were loans the Walsh family had taken out overseas at punishing interest rates. Because of their age and the complicated parties involved, Liam had always treated them as worthless paper. “Take it. Holt Group doesn’t need those write-offs.” Serena walked over and reached for my hand with an air of false warmth. “Ava, don’t be angry. Liam is trying to protect you. Southeast Asia is too dangerous. From now on, leave the public-facing work to me.” Then she dropped her voice so only I could hear: “I stole your man and your credit. Isn’t that just… so embarrassing for me?” I closed my hand around her wrist. Hard. Serena gasped. The color drained from her face. “Miss Walsh,” I said, holding her gaze, each word deliberate: “Southeast Asia is full of things that can bite. A woman with your delicate constitution should be very, very careful.” Liam shoved me back, stepping between me and Serena. “Ava! What is wrong with you?!” I took one step back and smoothed the wrinkle he’d made in my jacket. “I’m not done yet.” I pulled out a debt transfer confirmation and dropped it on the table. “Mr. Holt, sign this. As of right now, the three-hundred-million-dollar debt that the Walsh family owes Holt Group is formally transferred to my name—Ava Linne.” Liam signed without even reading it. In his mind, I was venting helpless frustration. Grabbing a few scraps to get by on. He had no idea that the Walsh family was never the elite dynasty he thought it was. Serena’s father had burned through the family fortune in Southeast Asia. The three-hundred-million-dollar IOU was backed by collateral—the Walsh family’s entire equity stake in Holt Group. I walked out of the building and dialed a number. “Tell the debt collectors the Walsh debt is mine now.” “Starting tomorrow—maximum compounding interest. Send them to the Walsh family’s front door.”

Liam brought Serena into my office while I was reviewing a secondary compound analysis report on Southeast Asian herbs. “Ava, walk Serena through the core chapters of the IPO prospectus.” He leaned both hands on my desk, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Serena is handling the investor roadshow. Help her polish the presentation.” Serena settled into the leather chair across from me like she owned the place. “Ava, Liam says you’re the best at doing the grunt work.” She pulled a document out of her bag—one that had been rewritten beyond recognition—and tossed it in front of me. “All those numbers are so boring. I rewrote it as a brand story. Just work the technical data back in somehow.” I opened the so-called proposal. It was nothing but hollow buzzwords. She had even listed the herbal degradation rate as one hundred percent. If this ever went public, Holt Group would be fined into bankruptcy by regulators. “I can’t work with this.” “Miss Walsh, biotech isn’t luxury retail. Falsifying data is a federal crime.” Serena’s face fell instantly. “Liam, are you hearing this—” Liam straightened up, clearly displeased, his eyes going cold. “Ava, don’t bring your personal feelings into the office. Serena’s family connections will triple Holt Group’s market premium.” He came around behind me, leaned down, and spoke quietly into my ear: “Don’t forget—you’re still living under this roof. For Noah’s sake, you need to let Serena hold this position.” I closed my eyes for a moment. This wasn’t just an assault on my emotions. It was the murder of my professional dignity. “Fine.” I opened my eyes, keeping my voice level. “I’ll rewrite it.” Liam’s expression relaxed. He gave my shoulder a satisfied pat. “Good. There’s a charity gala tonight. Serena is attending as co-founder. You’ll be there as her accompanying consultant.” At three in the afternoon, Serena arrived with her personal stylist and took over my private lounge like she owned it. Right in front of me, she changed into a gown covered in diamond fragments. It was the dress Liam had bought at a Paris auction last year—the one he’d said was my thirtieth birthday gift. “Ava, this dress fits a little tight. Liam said it was made especially for ‘the lady of the house.’” She turned left and right in front of the mirror, then glanced at my black blazer. “You look like an office assistant. Noah will be there tonight—don’t you want to make a better impression for him?” When she mentioned Noah, I felt the air go still in my chest. Liam wanted to parade Noah at the gala to perform the image of a happy family. “Miss Walsh, a beautiful dress means nothing if the person wearing it can’t carry herself. It just looks ridiculous.” I didn’t look at her again. I picked up my laptop and walked out. In the hallway, I dialed a number. “Get the liquidation team ready. Tonight at the gala, I’m giving Mr. Holt a very special IPO gift.” Three hours later. The charity gala. Holt Group arrived in full force. Every camera in the room was aimed at Liam and Serena by his side. The press called them “the golden couple of the investment world.” And I stood in the shadows beyond the lights, holding Noah’s hand. Noah tugged at my sleeve, uneasy. “Mommy, why won’t Daddy hold our hands?” I crouched down and straightened the bow tie on his little suit. “Noah, in a little while, watch Mommy do a magic trick.” “When it’s done, we’ll be free.”

The gala was in full swing, the crystal chandeliers scattering sharp light across the hall. I was peeling a shrimp for Noah when a piercing shriek cut through the noise nearby. “Waaah! He hit me! That little brat with no dad hit me!” I spun around. Serena’s nephew was clutching his face, sobbing. And Noah had been shoved down onto the hard marble floor, a red welt forming on his forehead where it had struck the corner of a table. Serena came rushing over: “Oh my God, Tyler! Are you hurt? What kind of child does something like this? Completely out of control!” The guests nearby turned to stare, murmuring to each other: “Isn’t that the ex-wife’s kid? Figures he’d cause a scene.” “I heard his own father doesn’t want him. No wonder he’s like this.” I dropped my napkin and crossed the room in seconds, pulling Noah into my arms. He was shaking. “I didn’t push him…” Noah was crying, pointing at the pieces of his Transformer scattered across the floor. “He grabbed my toy. And he called Mommy a… a bad word.” Liam walked over, his face hard. He didn’t even glance at Noah’s injury. His first move was to pull Serena to him. Then he turned on me: “Ava! Take him outside! Why would you bring a child to something like this?” “Making a scene?” “Liam, are you blind? Look at who’s actually hurt here.” Serena leaned against Liam and dabbed at her eyes with theatrical delicacy: “Liam, it’s fine. Ava’s been raising Noah alone—it’s hard, kids act out. But Tyler is my family’s pride and joy. If my father hears about this, the investment into Holt Group…” The word “investment” landed like a trigger. Liam’s expression shifted—cold, hard, and resolute. He stared at me: “Apologize to Serena. Apologize to Tyler.” I was holding Noah. My hands were trembling. “What did you just say?” “Apologize!” Liam’s voice went harder. “Don’t let your selfishness destroy Holt Group’s future.” I looked at this man I had once fought through everything alongside, and the very last ember of warmth inside me went dark. “Alright.” I set Noah down and slowly stood up. Liam thought I was yielding. His expression eased slightly. The next second, I picked up a glass of red wine from the nearest table and threw it across Serena’s million-dollar gown without warning. Then, before anyone could react, I stepped forward and slapped her—clean and sharp. Crack. The entire hall went silent. “That one was for my son.” I held Serena’s gaze as she reeled from the blow. Then I turned to Liam. From my clutch, I pulled out the IPO prospectus he’d been guarding like his life depended on it. Under his horrified stare, I tore it apart. “Liam, the dynasty you’ve been dreaming of is nothing but a shell.” I spoke loud enough for the entire room to hear, and dropped the bombshell cold: “The Walsh family’s assets in Southeast Asia have been frozen. Serena’s three hundred million in debt is due today.” The color left Liam’s face instantly. He grabbed Serena’s wrist: “Is it true? The Walsh family—” Serena began to stammer a response, but at that moment, the gala doors burst open. Several men in black suits with hard faces pushed their way inside. The man in front held up a debt certificate stamped with Southeast Asian legal seals: “Miss Walsh—with compounding interest, that comes to three hundred and fifty million dollars. Ms. Linne sent us to collect.” Liam looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He turned to me, his eyes filled with terror and dawning regret. “Ava… what have you done?” At that moment, his phone erupted with alerts. Ethan’s voice cut through the stunned silence in the hall: “Mr. Holt! The IPO application has been rejected!” “The regulators received an anonymous tip—financial fraud. The Walsh family’s assets are all non-performing debt!” Liam collapsed into a chair. He watched my back as I walked away, and he finally understood. He had thrown away a god and welcomed a ghost into his house instead. The moment I stepped through the doors, I made the call. “Ava, what’s next?” I looked up at the stars scattered across the night sky, my voice perfectly calm: “Liquidate Liam. I want him left with nothing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369103”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

It was April Fools’ Day when a delivery guy knocked on my door asking me to sign for a package. I waved him off. “I didn’t order any pads. My period just ended two days ago. Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke, or did you get the wrong address?” The guy kept his head down, checking his phone. “No mistake. This address is correct. The recipient is listed as Mrs. Archer — left by a Mr. Damien Archer.” A few minutes later, my husband’s assistant came rushing over, drenched in sweat, bowing over and over. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! These were meant for my girlfriend. I accidentally put down your address instead of hers. That’s totally on me!” Before he even finished talking, our front door swung open. My husband, Damien, walked out and draped his arm around my shoulders. He turned to look at his assistant, his expression darkening. “How do you handle anything? Didn’t I tell you to have it delivered tonight? You can’t even get something this simple right.” Then he pinched my cheek, his tone instantly softening. “Don’t listen to him, babe. These are actually for you. I was going to wrap them up as part of a little surprise, but he ruined it.” I smiled and waved everyone off. Once they were gone, the smile dropped from my face. I’d always bought pads in bulk — always the overnight kind, because I needed the extra coverage. But out of those nine packs of expensive, brand-name pads, eight of them were regular daytime ones.

When we got inside, Damien said he was tired and wanted to shower. The moment he stepped into the bathroom, I walked straight to the living room and picked up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. I went through all his messages. Aside from work stuff, his conversations with other women — coworkers, employees — were all short and cold. Just “yeah” and “okay” type replies. His social media was the same — nothing but work updates. Not a single trace of anything suspicious. I sat on the couch, staring into space. Was I just being paranoid? I was thirty now — maybe I was reading too much into things. The shower turned off. I quickly cleared his search history and put the phone back exactly where I’d found it. Damien came out toweling his hair, steam still rising off his skin. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his damp head against my neck. “Did you miss me?” My body stiffened. I pushed him away half-heartedly. “You’re still wet. You’re getting me all damp.” “So what?” He leaned in more, hands starting to wander, his lips brushing my ear, my neck. “Let’s go to bed early tonight…” Damien had never been one to hold back in that department. When the mood struck him, he went for it — I’d known that since day one. Even when I was on my period and feeling off, he’d sweet-talk and tease until I found another way to help him. But just as his lips were about to reach mine, something snapped me back to reality. Those nine packs of pads felt like a needle lodged in my brain. It was around last month that things had changed. Whenever I was on my period, he’d completely stopped pushing. Every evening when he got home, it was the same line: “Long day. You must be tired too. Get some rest.” I’d actually thought he was getting more thoughtful. Now, looking back, every single thing felt wrong. I shoved him away and asked, keeping my voice casual: “Damien, what made you suddenly think to buy pads for me? You’ve never bothered with that before.”

He paused for just a second, then reached over and flicked my nose. “You’re so silly. It’s a holiday, babe.” His voice was warm and indulgent. “I wanted to stock up on essentials for my girl. Is that a crime? It’s not like I haven’t bought them for you before.” He stretched out on his side of the bed, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers. “Besides, I’ve noticed you always buy them on sale around this time of year and stockpile them. This year, you don’t have to worry about it. I took care of it.” I kept my eyes on him. “Then why this brand? And why did you get so many daytime ones?” “Everyone online says this brand is good. Light and breathable.” He answered immediately, his eyes never flickering. “I’ve seen you buy the thick cotton ones. Thought you might want to try something different. And the daytime kind works on regular days too, not just during your period. More convenient.” As he spoke, he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a small blue velvet box. “And of course, that’s not all.” He handed it to me, looking a little pleased with himself. “You didn’t think I’d only get you pads for the holiday, did you? Open it.” Inside was a pearl necklace. The pearls were large and perfectly round, with a warm, lustrous glow. One look and you could tell it wasn’t cheap. “South Sea pearls. They’ll look beautiful on you.” He lifted the necklace out and moved to clasp it around my neck. “Do you like it?” I stared at those cold, round beads and didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me. “Nothing.” I closed the lid and set the box aside. “It’s expensive, I’m sure. It’s just… I think I mentioned before that I don’t really like pearls.” “Did you?” Damien blinked, thinking for a moment. “I don’t remember that. But women can never have too much jewelry. Every piece counts. Look at any woman worth her salt — they all have pearls.” My heart sank, piece by piece. He didn’t remember. When he was pursuing me hardest, I’d told him about my past. After my mom died, my dad moved on fast — with a woman he’d been seeing on the side. She drained most of what was left of our family’s money, then showed up at our house wearing a thick strand of round pearl bracelets, like she owned the place. She drove me out, and I ended up growing up in a group home. That year, in the middle of a snowstorm, I’d cried and told him: “I hate pearls. Every time I see them, I think of that woman. And of my dad, who threw me away.” He’d held me so tight it hurt, and swore: “I will never let you see a single pearl for the rest of your life. I’ll make sure you never have to think about any of that again.” And now, he was holding out a pearl necklace and saying: “I don’t remember that.” “Thank you, honey.” I forced a smile and took the box. “My stomach’s acting up a little. You go to sleep first.” I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. The pads weren’t for me. He’d given me jewelry I’d specifically told him I hated. Damien was lying. I’d already checked his phone and found nothing. But wait — there was one more thing. There was a name in his contacts that stood out from all the rest. Jade. A college student he sponsored — a girl who’d grown up in poverty and earned her way into a top university in the city. I had been the one who’d agreed to support her. I remembered her — small and thin, a little timid when she’d come to dinner at our place once. Quiet about most things, but her eyes lit up when she talked about school. Damien had said at the time: “That girl’s got a real fire in her. Reminds me of you back in the day.” So why did he have at least some kind of message history with every other woman in his contacts — But with Jade, nothing? Not a single message? Her chat log was completely blank. Clean as glass after a rainstorm. You could see straight through it. Too clean.

The next day, I found Jade’s contact in my own phone. Her profile photo was a silhouette of a girl reading, just the side of her face. Her social media was mostly library corners, open books, a cup of tea. I scrolled down slowly. Then my finger stopped. The most recent post. Uploaded yesterday afternoon. Period cramps are the worst. Can’t focus on anything. Good thing my man is taking care of me~ The photo showed a steaming mug of hot milk on a natural wood desk. I stared at it for a few seconds, then zoomed in. In the corner of the desk, partially cut off by the frame, was a cardboard box. On the corner of the box, clearly visible, was the logo of the same expensive pad brand. I counted — at least eight packs visible. And beside them, one opened pack that looked like it had just been used. So that was it. The desire he’d been holding back during my period had been redirected — toward another woman entirely. That afternoon, I did something I never did. I showed up at Damien’s office. What I walked in on made my vision go red. Jade was sitting on Damien’s lap, wearing a school uniform, arms wrapped around his neck. They were kissing like they had all the time in the world. His hand rested on her waist. The air in the room was thick. I crossed the room in seconds, grabbed Jade by the hair, and yanked her off his lap. She stumbled and nearly fell. I raised my hand and slapped her. The sound cracked through the office. Then I turned to Damien. He’d gotten to his feet, his expression dark. I raised my hand to slap him too — but he grabbed my wrist. “Rachel, what is wrong with you? Why aren’t you home? You’re supposed to pick up our son from school. What are you doing storming into my office?” Not a shred of guilt. Like he wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong. I wrenched my hand free, my voice breaking. “Damien, you remember we have a son? You could do this here and not think about your wife and kid for even one second?” Jade pressed her hand to her cheek and shuffled to Damien’s side. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, then turned to me and bowed her head. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry with him. It’s my fault. I’m the one who fell for him. It’s nothing to do with him — if you’re going to blame someone, blame me.” I pointed right at her. “Jade, I chose to help you because you’d worked so hard to get here from nothing. I wanted to give you a real chance to build your own life. And this is what you do with it?” “You used your position as someone he sponsors to go after a married man. Do you have any conscience at all?” Jade suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, wrapping her arms around my legs. Her tears were falling fast, the red mark from my slap still vivid on her cheek — but her eyes were defiant. “Ma’am, I know this is wrong. But what Damien and I have is real. Loving someone isn’t a crime. And if we’re really in love — doesn’t that mean you’re the one who doesn’t belong anymore? The one who isn’t loved is always the outsider.” My stomach lurched. I stepped back, trying to shake her off. “Let go of me. Don’t touch me.” But then Jade let out a sharp cry and clutched her stomach. Her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor. “Jade!” Damien’s face went pale. He’d turned away a moment earlier to close the office door — he hadn’t seen me push her, but he’d heard me tell her not to touch me. When he spun back around, Jade was on the ground. “Jade? What happened? Are you okay?” She curled against his chest, tears sliding into her hair. “I’m okay… my stomach… it hurts a little. Don’t blame her. I lost my balance…” Damien looked up at me. The warmth in his eyes had been replaced by something cold and sharp. “She’s like this and you still pushed her? What happened to you, Rachel? When did you become like this?”

He lifted Jade carefully and laid her on the couch. “You saw her fall on her own!” Damien ignored me completely, calling out toward the door: “Marcus, get in here!” His assistant Marcus pushed the door open, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Hold her.” Marcus flinched, then walked over to me and said quietly, not meeting my eyes: “I’m sorry, ma’am…” Then he took hold of my arm. Damien stood beside the couch, his expression empty of anything warm. “Kneel down and apologize to Jade. Do that, and we’ll call this even.” I stood frozen, staring at him. “What… what did you just say?” “She already deals with cramps. She’s not strong. And you hit her and shoved her.” Damien said it slowly, each word deliberate. “I’m telling you to kneel down and apologize to her.” “Damien!” My voice was shaking so badly I barely recognized it. “You want me to… kneel down? For her?” In that moment, the man standing in front of me felt like a complete stranger. It was like something cracked open in my chest, and cold air was rushing in through the hole. He scowled, impatient. “Are you deaf?” “Do you remember what you said when you were chasing me?” My tears finally broke through. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. “You said you couldn’t stand to see me upset even a little. At our wedding, you carried me the whole way down the aisle because you were afraid my feet would hurt in my heels.” From the couch, Jade let out a sharp, perfectly timed gasp of pain. I looked at her. “Drop the act. Have some self-respect.” “Rachel!” Damien snapped. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved down hard. My knees hit the marble floor. The pain shot straight through me. I cried out. He wasn’t done. He seized my jaw, forcing my face up toward his. His grip was crushing. “Say one more word about her. I dare you.” He leaned in close, his voice cold and cutting. “You keep throwing around words like sponsored student. You keep calling her shameless. Rachel — who do you think you are? Don’t forget: you were a charity case too. I’m the one who paid for your education.” My breath stopped. “You got where you are by getting into my bed.” He stared into my eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into something ugly. “What, now that you’ve got the ring and the title, you’ve forgotten how you got here? You actually think you’re somebody?” “Damien…” My voice came out ragged. Hollow. “You were the one who waited outside my school for three months. You said you admired me. You said you loved my spirit and felt for everything I’d been through. You said you loved me. You said you wanted to marry me and give me a home.” “You were the one who begged me to say yes. I gave up a graduate school scholarship abroad because of you. I stayed home and built a life around you.” I was nearly screaming, my vision blurred with tears. “And now you’re telling me I slept my way up?” Damien’s grip on my jaw loosened slightly, but the contempt in his eyes only deepened. “What else would you call it? Look at yourself right now, Rachel. You’re no different from a woman throwing a fit in the street. You got married, had a kid, and figured that meant you had a meal ticket for life.” “I want a divorce.” I shoved his hand away with everything I had and tried to push myself to my feet. “I can’t do this anymore. Not one more day.” Damien looked down at me, and let out a short, derisive laugh. “You think I care that much? Fine. Get divorced. But don’t come crying to me after.” He leaned down until his mouth was at my ear, his voice quiet and vicious. “Rachel, without the title, without my name behind you — you look around this city and tell me which company would hire you. Without me, you are nothing.” The hole in my chest kept filling with cold air. At some point, the pain went so deep it turned numb. I reached up and wiped my face hard. “Damien. I want a divorce. Right now. Today.” He went still for a moment — probably hadn’t expected me to mean it. “Alright. If that’s what you want.” He straightened up, smoothed out his sleeve where it had wrinkled, and put back on that cool, distant expression he wore so well. “You’ll learn soon enough.” He said nothing more to me. He turned and walked back to the couch, gently lifting Jade into his arms. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.” Jade nestled into him, calm and content. As they passed me, she turned her head just slightly and, looking down at me still on the floor, gave me a small, silent smile. Then she tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek, loud enough for me to hear. “You’re so good to me.” The door shut behind them. I pulled myself up slowly. I looked around the wrecked office, and somehow — I started to laugh. And then, in the middle of laughing, the tears came back. So the thing I thought had saved me — had been a joke all along. I held onto the couch and got to my feet. Dried my eyes. But there was one thing he’d forgotten. He hadn’t been the only one willing to help me back then.

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At our engagement banquet, my fiancé Zachary’s assistant, Lily, dropped a half-bitten carrot into his bowl. Zachary, who had always been obsessive about cleanliness, just smiled — and put that saliva-coated carrot right into his mouth. I didn’t make a scene. I simply clapped my hands and had the servants bring out a large bucket of slop from the kitchen. I set it down in front of Zachary. “You love eating other people’s leftovers so much? Then eat your fill.” “Leave even one bite, and this engagement is off.” Zachary’s fork clattered to the floor. He shot up from his chair like he’d been launched from it. “Nina, don’t be angry — this is on me.” He stared at me, terrified I was about to say something even more final. The guests around us all turned to look, with that particular gleam in their eyes that said they were enjoying every second of this. Zachary’s face flushed deep red. His throat bobbed as he rushed to explain. “Lily just started as an intern a few days ago. She doesn’t know table manners yet.” “If I’d called her out right then and there, word would’ve gotten around that we bully newcomers. That would’ve looked terrible.” He reached for my hand, his voice going soft. “I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just didn’t want to kill the mood. I’ll discipline her from now on — I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.” I watched the panic flickering in his eyes and laughed — silently, coldly. I pulled my hand back and turned to my assistant, who had been standing nearby, keeping my tone flat. “Remove the bucket. Clear the rest of the banquet. Cancel all remaining events.” My assistant acknowledged the order. The sound of dishes and silverware being moved filled the banquet hall. Zachary’s face went even whiter. He looked like he wanted to say something, but I cut him off before he could. “Zachary. Clean up your act.” He froze. His lips moved, but in the end he didn’t dare push back. He just gave a small nod. I didn’t look at him again. I stood up and walked straight out of the banquet hall. The car ride home was completely silent. Zachary tried to speak several times. Each time, my cool stare stopped him cold. When we got back, I’d barely sat down before the doorbell rang. Zachary was standing outside, holding two gift bags, his posture stiff and straight. I reached over and pressed the door release. He walked in and set the bags on the entryway shelf — he didn’t dare bring them into the living room. “Nina, I wrote this for you.” He handed me a letter. “It’s all in there. I’ll cut off all personal contact with Lily going forward. I’ll reassign her project responsibilities to someone else entirely.” I didn’t take it. I just looked at him. He immediately set the letter on the coffee table, then fished his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and slid it across to me, screen-side up. “Take it. Go through whatever you want.” He added, “My messages with Lily are strictly work-related. Nothing else. Not a single thing.” I looked at his SnapChat. In the conversation with Lily, every message was business — timestamps scattered, content nothing but project updates. No casual greetings. No private chat. It was almost suspiciously clean. I didn’t pick up the phone. Zachary saw this and quickly spoke up again. “I know you’re hurt. I really was just trying to avoid making things awkward.” I knew exactly what that spotless message history meant. He’d prepared it in advance. “You don’t need to be so nervous,” I said, keeping my voice even. Zachary’s shoulders visibly relaxed. He shifted half a step closer, as if he wanted to reach out — then seemed to think better of it and stayed where he was. “Nina, can you forgive me?” He looked at me. “I’ll give you a proper explanation for what happened at the engagement party. I’ll deal with Lily. I promise.”

“Go home for now,” I said, not answering his question. “It’s late.” Zachary’s expression dimmed. He managed a weak reply. “Then I’ll come by tomorrow.” He backed toward the door. “I also brought some things you like to eat.” When I said nothing, he forced another apologetic smile before finally turning to leave. “I need you to look into two things,” I told my assistant directly. “First, everything on Lily’s background. Second, where Zachary’s money has been going for the last three months.” My assistant nodded quickly. I sat in the living room, staring at the letter on the coffee table. The handwriting was neat, the promises laid out point by point in careful detail — but I had no desire to even read it. Over the next three days, Zachary didn’t come back. He sent two messages a day — one in the morning, one at night — each one a brief account of his schedule. I didn’t reply to any of them. He didn’t push further. On the third afternoon, I was at my office going through project files when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Zachary pushed the door open and walked in, holding a document. He held it out to me. “Nina, take a look.” “It’s a copy of Lily’s resignation. I’ve already approved it.” I glanced at it. Lily’s signature was at the bottom, dated yesterday. Zachary’s sign-off was in the approval field, along with an official HR stamp from the Sinclair Group. “I also withheld her full month’s salary as a penalty for her behavior at the engagement banquet.” Zachary said it like he was expecting a gold star. “Is that satisfactory to you?” But when I still didn’t say anything, the smile on his face grew stiffer by the second. After a long silence, I finally said, quietly, “Let’s leave it at that.” He let out an audible breath of relief, nodded quickly, and stepped back. That same evening, my assistant delivered the report. Not long ago, Zachary had purchased a one-bedroom apartment in a high-end complex downtown — in Lily’s name. On top of that, he’d been making regular transfers to her private account. Enough to cover all of her living expenses. What I found most darkly ironic was a photograph included in the file. In it, Lily was wearing a watch on her wrist. That watch was the limited-edition piece I’d given Zachary for his birthday last year. Fewer than ten existed worldwide. I’d had someone track it down and bid on it at auction in Switzerland specifically for him. Zachary thought he’d hidden everything so well. What he didn’t know was that his every move had been under my watch all along. Not long after, both families arranged a dinner. “Nina, Zachary has already sincerely apologized. That little incident at the engagement party is behind us now — don’t dwell on it.” Mrs. Sinclair, who had been briefed on what happened, smiled warmly as she urged me to let it go. “The joint venture is already underway. We need to move forward on consolidating our interests — it’s better for everyone.” My father nodded and looked at Zachary. “Zachary, going forward you need to be more considerate of Nina. Nurture this relationship. And keep a close eye on the project.” Zachary stood immediately, giving a slight bow, his manner perfectly, impeccably humble. “You have my word. I’ll treat Nina right, and the project will run without a single issue.” He turned to me. “Nina, to give you peace of mind, I’ve had the preliminary review authority for the joint project transferred entirely to your team. I won’t interfere at all.” As he spoke, he reached into his briefcase and held out a document with both hands. “This is the formal transfer confirmation. My signature is already on it.” I didn’t reach for it right away. Instead, I looked at Zachary with something close to amusement.

Did he really think handing over control of this project would be enough to buy my silence? “It seems you’re quite sincere,” I said, keeping my voice light. Zachary’s face lit up. He thought I was going to let him off the hook. He lowered his head quickly. “Yes, Nina. I genuinely understand where I went wrong. This document is proof of my commitment.” My parents exchanged satisfied looks beside us. They were taken in completely — fooled by the act Zachary was putting on. “All right. Then I’ll give you another chance.” I spoke slowly. Zachary was overjoyed. Both sets of parents exhaled in relief. What none of them knew was that those words weren’t meant only for Zachary. They were meant for all of them. “Good, good — let’s put the past behind us. Here’s to a successful partnership going forward!” My father raised his glass. Everyone smiled. The atmosphere warmed up again. The dinner ended, and Zachary walked me to the door. “Let me drive you home, Nina.” He said it as he reached out toward me. I stepped to the side. Zachary’s hand froze in mid-air, his expression stiffening. “Nina, what is that supposed to mean? I fired Lily. I handed over the project. What more do you want?” A flash of frustration crossed his face. But I just looked at him calmly — the way you’d look at something you’d found in a trash can. “Zachary, something that’s been dirtied doesn’t become clean just because you rinse it off. Especially when it comes to a person’s character.” Zachary stared at me like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his jaw twitching. I didn’t bother addressing it. I simply told him, “Don’t forget — this is the first chance I’ve given you. Don’t waste it.” Then I turned and walked away. Zachary stood where he was. The expression on his face had gone dark. Don’t worry. This is only the beginning. Holding the preliminary review authority meant that the Sinclair Group was obligated to follow my lead on this project, no questions asked. And the first thing I did with that authority was put a hold on one of Zachary’s critical payments. The next morning. Zachary called me, his voice tight with urgency. “Nina, why was the startup funding returned? This is going to throw off the entire schedule!” I put him on speaker and took my time looking at the photos that had just been printed out on my desk. “The receiving party had compliance issues. To minimize risk, I had our finance team run a new review.” My tone was perfectly even. “What? That vendor has been working with us for years —” “Didn’t you say you were leaving this to me?” One sentence, and Zachary went quiet. After a long pause, he said, stiffly, “But — but —” “No buts. Process is process.” I hung up. I looked at the photos on the desk and let out a cold laugh. My private investigator had just sent these over. The Lily who was supposedly terminated was currently living in that upscale apartment. Her wrist — with that watch — was captured clearly in the shot. And Zachary’s car was parked right outside the building. Running the project dry on one hand, keeping his little bird in a gilded cage on the other. Zachary. You’ve got some nerve. Over the following week, I turned a blind eye to everything — the business dealings, and Zachary’s secret meetings with Lily. When Zachary played the role of the devoted fiancé, I played along with just enough indifference to keep him guessing. And then Friday night arrived.

A charity auction gala was being held — one of the industry’s big annual events. Zachary, as my publicly announced fiancé, was expected to attend with me. He was waiting downstairs early. He’d even thoughtfully prepared a bouquet — of lilies, which I can’t stand. “Nina, there’s a sapphire necklace tonight that I know you’d love. Whatever it costs, I’ll bid on it for you — sound good?” He held the flowers out to me. I took them. Then dropped them straight into the trash can. “I like daisies.” Zachary went rigid with embarrassment. He scrambled after me into the venue, tripping over himself with apologies. Inside the gala, the city’s elite had gathered. The moment we walked in, admiring looks followed us from every direction. Zachary straightened up and leaned into it. He loved being the center of attention. His grip on my arm tightened slightly without him even noticing. As if he really were the flawless heir to the Sinclair family he pretended to be. But all of this was exactly where I needed it to be. Just when Zachary thought everything was going perfectly — that tonight was his night to shine — Something unexpected happened. His phone started buzzing relentlessly. He covered it quickly, but not before I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. It was Lily. He tried to pretend nothing was happening. I tilted my head and smiled. “Aren’t you going to answer? What if it’s urgent?” Zachary looked uncomfortable. Sweat was already appearing at his hairline. He forced a laugh. “It’s nothing. Spam call.” “Is it?” I smiled. “Funny — I could’ve sworn I recognized that number. Wasn’t that your assistant you supposedly let go?” Zachary’s face changed. He glanced around quickly, his voice dropping into a panicked hiss. “Nina, what are you talking about? I haven’t been in contact with her —” But before he could finish explaining, a commotion broke out near the entrance. A figure came stumbling in. “Zachary! Help me, Zachary!” She screamed it without caring who heard. Not even the security guards could stop her. By the time Zachary registered what was happening, his face had gone the color of old ash. It was Lily. Every head in the room turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd. “Nina, I — I honestly have no idea what’s going on!” Zachary stared at me, completely rigid. Of course he didn’t know what was going on. Because I was the one who arranged it. When Lily spotted Zachary, she broke down completely. She made a beeline straight for our table. “Zachary! I got thrown out of my apartment — my bank account’s been frozen — I have nowhere to go!” “You have to do something!” She dropped to her knees at his feet, crying like the world was ending. Zachary’s fists clenched until his knuckles went white. The people around us started murmuring. “Isn’t that the assistant he fired?” “I thought she was long gone — why is she still causing scenes?” “Wait — is anyone else looking at that watch she’s wearing? Isn’t that the one Nina gave Zachary for his birthday last year? That thing is worth hundreds of thousands —” Zachary finally snapped into action. He kicked Lily’s hand away and snarled, “What’s wrong with you? I barely even know you — get away from me!” Lily stumbled back. She looked up at him like she’d been slapped. “So you really were lying to me this whole time, weren’t you?” “You told me if I was patient, once things blew over you’d come back for me!” “That apartment — you bought it for me! And now that you’re done with me you’re taking it back? You played me from the start!” She screamed it for the entire room to hear. The words detonated like a grenade. I looked at Zachary with a cold smile.

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Ten years into our marriage, I discovered my husband was buying a ninety-million-dollar pink diamond for his mistress. I asked for a divorce. He dragged me to the family’s private cemetery and pointed at a tombstone already engraved with both our names. “Vivienne,” he said, “there is no divorce between us. There is only death.” The next day, I was placed under house arrest. My bank cards were frozen. My access to the company was revoked. And his mistress, heavily pregnant, moved into the Presidential Suite aboard the cruise ship I had named after myself. It was only later that I learned the truth. That kidnapping and fire that nearly killed me when I was nineteen. He had arranged it himself. If he wanted to lock me in a grave, then I would turn the entire ship into his coffin. Vivienne’s POV Everyone in Los Angeles knew that Lucas Holt had once loved me like a man possessed. When I was nineteen, to pull me out of the basement of that hellhole boarding school, he drove a truck straight through the perimeter wall. When he was clawing his way to the top, to win the first shipping route that belonged to the two of us, he pressed a gun to his own temple at the negotiating table and bet his life on it. After we married, he named the most expensive luxury cruise ship in his fleet after me. As if broadcasting his love for me via satellite to the entire world wasn’t enough. For ten years, he paved every road with his own blood and carried me into legend within this world. And now, he tossed a ninety-million-dollar receipt into the fireplace. A receipt for a pink diamond bought for his mistress. Then he warned me in a cold, flat voice. “It’s just keeping up appearances. Stay out of it.” He didn’t even look up at me. “It’s necessary PR management, Vivienne. Since when did you become so petty?” I slid off the diamond ring, which he’d won at a Vegas poker table the night he proposed to me. I slammed it down on the mahogany desk, along with the divorce agreement. “If it’s a liability, then cut it loose. Lucas, I want a divorce.” Lucas finally looked up. His eyes were dark and full of something cold. He grabbed my wrist hard enough that I felt my bones grind, and dragged me toward the door. “You want a divorce? Fine. We’ll discuss it at the cemetery.” He drove like a man with nothing to lose. We ended up at the iron gates of the Holt family’s private burial grounds. He hauled me to a massive black granite headstone. Both our names were already carved into it. “Take a good look.” He pointed to the freshly dug pit beside it. His voice was as cold as the wind sweeping through that place. “Vivienne, between us, there is no divorce. There is only burial.” That was the wedding gift he had prepared for me. A headstone with our names on it. He released my arm, turned, got back in the car, and left me standing alone at the cemetery gate. Rain ran down my hair and dripped into my collar. Ice cold. I walked down the mountain road alone. The cemetery sat on a hillside outside the city. At that hour, there wasn’t a cab in sight. I was wearing nothing but a thin silk blouse. The downpour soaked it through in seconds, pressing the fabric flat against my spine. With every step, the red-soled heels felt like walking on knife blades. How fitting. It had been a rainy night just like this when I was nineteen. The fire at the school. Lucas crashing through in that truck, pulling me out of the flames, and stripping off his own bulletproof vest to wrap around me. He had said, “Vivienne, as long as I’m here, I will never let a single drop of rain touch you.” Tonight, he pointed at a grave with my name on it and told me only death could part us. Then he threw me out like garbage into the rain. Two beams of light swept up from behind me, stretching my shadow out long and thin against the road. A black Rolls-Royce Cullinan shot past. Lucas’s car. The wheels tore through a puddle and sent a spray of black mud across my calves. The car didn’t stop. It accelerated. Through the tinted bulletproof windows, I could just make out Lucas in the driver’s seat, phone pressed to his ear. His brow was furrowed. His expression – careful, anxious, tender in a way I hadn’t seen from him in three years. So that was where all his urgency and his glances back had gone. He’d been giving them to someone else all along. By the time I made it back to the house, two hours had passed. Soaked to the bone, I pushed open the front door and was met with a warmth that felt like a slap. I reached down to take off my shoes, and stopped.

Vivienne’s POV Right beside my gray house slippers sat a pair of pink fluffy ones. Not the disposable kind you’d put out for a guest. These were expensive, personal – the kind that implied permanence. They were pressed intimately against Lucas’s black leather slippers, the two pairs nudging each other at the toes, almost playfully. Lucas had severe OCD when it came to his personal space. He wouldn’t even let his award-winning Persian cat set foot in certain rooms. And yet these shoes stood there like a declaration of war. The air was thick with a cloying, sweet fragrance – some cheap, aggressive floral perfume that had completely smothered the cool, woody scent I always wore. At the cemetery, he told me only death could separate us. In this house, he was letting another woman build a nest in his territory while I was still alive. “So the living get pushed out, and the dead get to keep their hole.” I picked up the pink slippers without expression and dropped them in the trash can by the door. I walked into the living room and found a same-day delivery package sitting in the center of the coffee table. No sender information. I opened it. Inside was a new iPad. The screen lit up on its own, and a video began to play. I recognized the background immediately. It was the Presidential Suite at the top of the Vivienne – the cruise ship. The one Lucas had once promised would always belong only to me. The camera swept the room. The minimalist, cool-toned décor I had chosen had been torn apart. A young woman wearing my custom-made silk robe was directing workers to paint the walls pink. “That light is too dim. Replace it with one of those massive crystal chandeliers.” She turned toward the camera and flashed a big V-sign with her fingers. She was twirling a pen between her fingers. A Montblanc. Limited edition. The one I had used to sign the Holt Group’s first billion-dollar shipping contract. It meant everything to me. I had turned the entire study upside down looking for it just days ago. And there it was – spinning between her fingers like a cheap toy. That feeling of being watched, being consumed, being picked apart – it was colder than anything the rain outside could do to me. I opened the photo album on the tablet. I scrolled. Page after page of prenatal records. The ultrasound images were clear. The fetal outline unmistakable. At the bottom of the report, in the signature field, someone had signed in a bold, slashing hand. Lucas Holt. His signature pressed hard into the page. In the notes column, a line in bold:”Holt Family Firstborn – Maximum Guardian Priority”. There was one more item in the video folder. Recorded twenty minutes ago. Right around the time he had left me standing in the cemetery. In the footage, Lucas was lying with his head resting against the woman’s stomach, his ear pressed to the curve of it. His eyes were closed. His expression was reverent – like a man at prayer. The hand resting on her belly bore several fresh red marks across the back – scratches left by my nails when he had grabbed my wrist at the cemetery. The cold, brutal expression he had worn in front of me had melted into something gentle. Something I had never once seen him give me. I lurched into the bathroom and retched over the toilet. There was nothing in my stomach. It was all bile. The revulsion hit harder than the rage. That was my husband. The man who had once fought his way out of a dead-end slum at my side, back to back, through blood and bodies. Looking at him now felt like watching a dog in heat, driven by nothing but the need to breed. The iPad vibrated. A FaceTime request popped up. I answered. Bianca White’s face filled the screen – all dewy skin and collagen-plump cheeks. In the background, a fetal monitor beeped in a slow, steady rhythm. “Nice sound, isn’t it?” Her voice was sweet. Her eyes were vicious – like needles dipped in poison. “The doctor says this is the strongest heartbeat the Holt family has ever produced. Yours was just barren ground, Vivienne. Lucas needed somewhere worth planting.” Even the Vivienne no longer had a place for Vivienne herself.

Vivienne’s POV The video call stayed connected. From somewhere off-screen on her end, Lucas’s voice drifted through. “Bianca, drink your milk.” That voice. Soft. Careful. It belonged to a stranger. The venom in Bianca’s face evaporated in an instant. She replaced it with a fragile, startled expression and mouthed silently at the camera. He’s here. I was the only audience for this little show. “Tonight is the family dinner. Bring the heir and let the families meet him. Make sure you save me a good seat.” Bianca ended the call. Tonight was the Holt family’s most important annual gathering. It was a deeply tradition-bound event. Bloodlines, inheritance, legacy. And she was planning to attend? This was the ultimate provocation against me as his legal wife. It was a slap in the face to the entire Holt family name. Before I could put the tablet down, the doorbell rang. The old family butler led a procession of staff through the front door, each one carrying a formal evening gown. “Mrs. Holt.” The butler’s expression was stiff – professionally blank as he bowed. “Mr. Holt has instructed that tonight’s family dinner will include all board members and extended family. He asks that you be present and conduct yourself as befitting the lady of the house. The family’s reputation must be maintained.” That woman was going to walk in there and parade her belly around, and he wanted me to smile and cover for him. Lucas. What a perfectly shameless calculation. The butler made a point of presenting a custom-tailored men’s suit. “This is what Mr. Holt will be wearing tonight.” I reached out and ran my fingers over the fabric. Expensive. Smooth. Cold to the touch. Such fine material. What a waste, draping it over something so rotten underneath. “Leave it there.” The butler set it down and led the staff back out. I walked into the dressing room and picked up the small scissors used for trimming cigars. This suit had been made three years ago, when I flew to Savile Row myself to have it commissioned from an old master tailor – a celebration of Lucas claiming his position at the top. The cufflinks bore the Holt family crest. Every engraved line had been chosen by me, with care. Snip. The blades came down. The sound of expensive fabric tearing was almost like a scream. I cut mechanically. One stroke after another. In that video, he had been lying against another woman’s body, wearing different clothes. If he was no longer fit to be called a man, then he didn’t deserve the skin of one. When Lucas returned, the dressing room looked like the aftermath of a storm. Shredded silk and wool lay scattered across the carpet like black snow – the shattered remains of dignity. I was sitting in the middle of it all, turning the scissors over in my hands. He frowned slightly. No anger. He didn’t even glance at the ruins on the floor. “Derek, bring a backup suit.” He stepped over the scraps, walked to the mirror, and began loosening his tie. There was a faint mark on his neck – barely there, covered with concealer, but visible under the bright lights of the dressing room. He had ignored the entire wreckage around him and taken care to hide a small smudge of lipstick. “I hear someone’s planning to bring the heir to the family dinner tonight?” I flicked a scrap of fabric off the floor with the tip of the scissors. Lucas adjusted his tie clip in the mirror, unhurried. “Bianca is carrying a child. I’m bringing her to meet my grandfather. Let the old man enjoy himself. Don’t make a scene on a good night.” He stated his illegitimate child’s existence as though it were a perfectly reasonable family arrangement. “There won’t be anything to enjoy.” I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it at his freshly changed trousers. It was a surgical consent form. There were bloodstains on the edge. Lucas picked it up and smoothed it open. When he saw the hospital letterhead and the words Termination of Pregnancy, his pupils contracted sharply. “I had someone take care of it for her. A little housecleaning.” My voice was flat. I watched his back go rigid. “She should be on the operating table right now.” “Vivienne!” He spun around with a shout and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me back against the closet doors. “That was my blood. How could you-” The veins on the back of his hand stood out. His eyes went red. Watching him unravel like that, over an unborn child that wasn’t even mine to lose, I suddenly found it almost funny. So much for two people who were supposed to have each other’s backs. One instinct, and all of it crumbled like wet paper.

Vivienne’s POV The pressure closed around my throat. My lungs compressed, air forced out in slow, grinding increments. I stared into Lucas’s bloodshot eyes. Only once before had I seen that look on his face. When I was nineteen. The school was burning. He had torn through scorched brick with his bare hands, eyes red, clawing through the rubble for any sign that I was still alive. And now, for the sake of an embryo, he was using those same hands to choke the woman he had once nearly destroyed himself to save. The man who saved me had become the man trying to kill me. “What’s the rush, Lucas? Worried about that empty burial plot?” Even with his hands around my throat, I forced out a cold laugh. “You said it yourself – only my name goes on that headstone. Whatever she gives birth to will just be a bastard with no claim to anything.” His fingers tightened. I could feel my windpipe flexing under the pressure. I held his gaze and delivered the only warning that mattered. “Lucas. If you can’t finish the job, I will have that double grave filled in and leave you with nowhere to be buried.” Something warm dripped onto the back of his hand. He hesitated. Looked down. I must have gripped the scissors too hard earlier – my palm had been cut, and blood was running down over his cuff. He released my throat like he’d been burned. I slid down the closet door, coughing hard. Lucas forced the rage back down behind his face. “It’s done, it’s done. It probably wouldn’t have survived anyway.” He didn’t believe a word of that. Neither did I. But his body moved before his pride could stop it. He turned, grabbed a bottle of high-proof whiskey from the bar cart, twisted the cap off with practiced ease. “Give me your hand.” No matter that they were standing in a mansion. No matter that the medicine cabinet was stocked with the best that money could buy. Under pressure, he always defaulted to the most raw, most instinctive method he knew. Back in the days when we were hiding from enemies in the slums, there was never any medicine. He would grab the strongest liquor he could find and pour it over my knife wounds. That burning sensation was proof we were still alive. Dark amber liquid mixed with blood and dripped onto the floor. The alcohol hit the cut like a lit match. It brought me sharply back to myself. He kept his head down, rinsing the wound, muttering curses under his breath. “How did you manage to cut yourself this badly.” A moment ago he genuinely wanted to choke me to death. Now he was tending to my hand. Killing me and saving me in the same breath. Lucas Holt. You really are out of your mind. He wasn’t doing it out of tenderness. He was repairing damaged property. “Get off me.” I yanked my hand back and knocked the whiskey bottle to the floor. Glass exploded. The smell of aged whiskey mixed with blood spread across the room. “Don’t touch me.” I looked at him evenly. “Your hands were just on her stomach. They’re dirty.” Lucas looked at the broken glass on the floor. He was quiet for a moment. He didn’t blow up. He just pressed the intercom and called for the house doctor. Then his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and something shifted in his face. The hospital, most likely. If the procedure had gone through, he wouldn’t look like that. He didn’t say anything else about my hand. He turned and walked out, long strides, forgetting his jacket entirely – his whole posture radiating undisguised panic. That line about it’s done, it’s done – complete garbage. He still wanted that child.

Vivienne’s POV The following morning, I tried to leave for the office. In the garage, Lucas’s head of security was standing directly in front of my car. “It’s Mr. Holt’s order. Your hand is injured and you need to rest.” He kept his head slightly bowed. His tone was respectful and immovable in equal measure. “The deputy director will handle company matters for the time being. Your presence isn’t required.” Rest. That was house arrest. “Move.” I pressed the key fob for the sports car – the one I had purchased under my own name. Nothing happened. The guard offered a mild explanation. “All vehicles are currently undergoing GPS maintenance. They can’t be started at this time.” He was cutting off my legs. I went back inside to the study, opened my laptop, and logged into the family trust’s black account. I wanted to trace Bianca’s arrangements – the renovation costs for the Vivienne suite had to have come from here. I hit enter. A large red warning box filled the screen. “Administrator has revoked your access permissions.” He was shutting down my information channels. That account had always been completely open to me. He’d told me once, what’s mine is yours – you can move anything in the Holt Group, anytime. I took out my phone, switched to a personal backup SIM, and tried to call a rideshare. “Transaction failed. Card has been frozen.” I tried three more cards. Every single one declined. A text from the bank followed immediately:”Per account holder request, your supplementary cards have been suspended.” I checked the Wi-Fi signal. Even the home network password had been changed. Lucas was telling me something very clearly: without him, I was nothing. In this city, with no money, no car, no access to information, I was completely immobilized. This wasn’t punishment. This was conditioning. He wanted me docile. Dependent. Grateful for scraps. I threw my phone onto the sofa. You think you can cage me? Lucas, you’ve badly underestimated someone who clawed her way out of the gutter. The study door opened. Lucas walked in, a freshly lit cigar between his fingers. “Why did you cut off my access?” I demanded. He took a slow drag. The smoke curled between us, obscuring his expression. “Vivienne, you don’t need to dirty your hands with people like that.” He walked to the shredder beside the desk, picked up the second divorce agreement I had left on the table. “Stay home, let me handle what needs to be handled, and everything goes back to normal.” He laid down the law about staying home like he was scolding a dog that had slipped its leash. “Your cards will be unfrozen. I’ll have my assistant handle it.” Back to normal. Back to being your blind, deaf, obedient little wife? A mechanical whir. He fed the divorce papers into the shredder. Over the grinding of the machine, he said it again. “I told you. Until that grave is filled, this marriage stays intact.” The shredder went quiet. The study was dead silent. Those strips of paper were my last legal way out. If the legal route was blocked, and the financial pressure was already applied, then there was only one option left. The oldest trick in the book. Something had to bleed before he would wake up.

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I was on a business trip when my wife, Lauren, suddenly called, saying she was selling the restaurant my dad had left behind. “Tony, I’ve decided to transfer the restaurant to someone else. For $1.8 million.” I froze for two seconds, then demanded to know why she hadn’t discussed something so big with me beforehand. She replied self-righteously, “I’m the legal owner of the restaurant. I have the right to decide.” “That’s what your dad said before he passed.” “$1.8 million isn’t a small sum. I thought it was a fair price, so I sold it. What’s wrong with that?” She hung up immediately. When I called back, her phone was off. I was shaking with anger. I sent her a message. “Lauren, if you really sell the restaurant, we’re getting a divorce!” I canceled all my plans and took the next flight back to the city. It was five in the afternoon when I landed. I hailed a cab straight home. I called her on the way, but her phone was still off. As I approached my apartment building, just as I was about to enter, I saw a black Mercedes parked at the curb. Lauren was in the passenger seat, laughing and talking to the man in the car. I retreated behind a nearby tree, watching covertly. The man was probably in his early thirties. He rested his arm on the car window, smiling as he asked, “So, it’s settled then?” Lauren nodded. “Don’t worry. Tony’s on a business trip. He won’t be back for another week.” “Are you sure he won’t mess things up? It is his dad’s place, after all.” Lauren let out a cold laugh. “I’m the legal owner. I’ll sell it if I want to. No one can tell me what to do.” “Besides, even his dad said when he was alive that the restaurant was mine to manage.” “Worst case, we get divorced.” The man smiled. “Good.” Lauren smiled too, leaning in and kissing his cheek. The man reached out and pulled her closer. The two began to kiss passionately in the car. I gripped my suitcase handle, my knuckles turning white. They exchanged a few more words, then the man drove off. Lauren grabbed her bag and went into the building. I stepped out from behind the tree and stood downstairs, lighting a cigarette. The early March wind was still chilly. The ash blew away, landing on my shoe. I looked down at the ashes, remembering my dad on his deathbed, holding my hand and saying, “Tony, I’m leaving the restaurant to Lauren. Don’t overthink it.” “You’re busy with work and can’t spare the time. She’s ambitious and always wanted to be involved in managing the restaurant. Don’t fight over this.” I said I understood. He gasped for a while, then added, “Lauren’s ambition is a good thing, but you must remember to hold onto this restaurant. It’s my life’s work.” I nodded. Three days later, my father passed away. At the funeral, Lauren stayed by my side, crying more bitterly than anyone. At the time, I thought my dad hadn’t misjudged her. Thinking about it now, it’s just so damn laughable. I dragged my suitcase out of the apartment complex and found a small diner on the street. The owner came over with water, glanced at my suitcase, and didn’t ask any questions. When the food arrived, I didn’t touch it. Instead, I poured myself a glass of hard liquor. The strong alcohol burned my throat and made my eyes water. My mom passed away when I was three. My dad never remarried. He started with a small food cart, waking up at three in the morning every day to push his utility cart to the market for ingredients. In winter, his hands would crack from the cold; in summer, his back would peel from the sun. After eight years, he finally saved enough to rent his first storefront. Ten more years, and he bought out the entire three-story building. He had no other hobbies in his life; his only joy was being in the kitchen. When I was little, I’d come home from school and do my homework right there in the restaurant while he cooked beside me. The cooking fumes always made his eyes red, but he’d chuckle and say he was used to it. Later, I went to college, got a job, and started traveling a lot for work. Every time I came back, I’d stop by the restaurant. He’d personally cook a couple of dishes for me, sitting across the table, watching me eat, asking about everything. One time I visited the restaurant, it was a week before he was hospitalized. He stood at the entrance, smoking, watching the customers come and go, his eyes filled with reluctance. I thought then that after a few more years, when I wasn’t so busy, I’d come back and help him. Unfortunately, I never got the chance. I refilled my glass and picked up my phone to message my friend, Rubio. Rubio was a well-known lawyer. “Help me check a license plate. I’ll send it to you.” He replied instantly: “What’s up?” I sent him the license plate number. “A Mercedes. Why are you checking it? Whose car is it?” “A guy I don’t know.” There was a few seconds of silence before he called. “Tony, explain yourself. What’s going on?”

I briefly told him what happened. He swore on the phone, then asked, “Where are you?” “Drinking.” “Stay put, I’m coming over.” “No need. Just help me find out who that guy is.” He swore a few more times and hung up. I continued drinking. The owner came to tally the bill, glanced at the empty bottle, and looked like he wanted to say something but held back. I paid and stood up to leave. Back home, Lauren was lounging on the couch, watching TV. Seeing me enter, she paused, then frowned. “Why are you back?” “My business trip was canceled last minute.” She just mumbled “Oh,” and her gaze shifted back to the TV. “Did you eat? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.” I looked at her profile and suddenly felt like she was a stranger. We’d been married for seven years, and I traveled for work more than a dozen times a year. Every time I came back, she’d enthusiastically ask what I wanted to eat, then go to the kitchen and make it for me. And now, she was telling me to eat cold, leftover pizza from the fridge. I stood in the living room, saying coldly, “I want to discuss the restaurant again.” She turned her head, a hint of impatience on her face. “What’s there to discuss? I’ve already worked out the details with him. The contract’s being signed tomorrow.” “$1.8 million? Don’t you think that’s too little?” “I had it appraised. That’s what it’s worth. Besides, the restaurant business is tough these days. Better sell it while someone’s interested.” “But that’s my dad’s life’s work!” I cut her off. She stood up, her voice rising. “It’s always about your dad! If I hadn’t been running that restaurant, it would have collapsed long ago!” “Do you know how hard it is to run a business now? Do you know how annoying it is to deal with those customers and suppliers every day? You don’t know anything!” I looked at her. “But you can’t just sell the restaurant without discussing it with me.” “Discuss what? I’m the legal owner, I have the right to decide.” “Did you see the message I sent? If you really sell the restaurant, we’re getting a divorce,” I roared. Lauren paused, then sneered. “Tony, are you being childish?” She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she looked at me. “Just because I want to sell a restaurant, you want a divorce? Do you think marriage is just a game?” I pressed my lips together. “That’s not just any restaurant!” “What’s so special about it? It’s just a building, a few private rooms, a few tables, right?” “Yes, your dad worked his whole life on it, but that was his business. What does that have to do with me?” “I married you, not that restaurant.” I frowned. “You didn’t use to say that.” “Me, before?” she scoffed. “You know that was ‘before.’ I used to go along with you because I didn’t want to fight, didn’t want us to be at odds.” “But now I’ve realized I can’t spend my whole life tied to some crumby restaurant, dealing with drunk customers who act crazy.” “I have my own ideas. I don’t want to manage the restaurant anymore. I want a better, more relaxed life. Is that wrong?” After a long silence, I asked her, “Who did you sell the restaurant to?” “I sold it to George, my high school classmate,” she said. “Good thing he’s a familiar face, otherwise it wouldn’t have sold for this much.” I looked at her, but didn’t reply. She grew a bit uncomfortable under my stare, shifting her gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “I had it appraised before,” I slowly began. “Given the restaurant’s reputation over the years, and its monthly revenue, it’s definitely worth more than $1.8 million.” She paused, then frowned. “Who did you get to appraise it? They must have been making things up. Do you even know what the restaurant market is like right now?” “Of course, I know,” I nodded. “Actually, you know the truth yourself.” “What do I know?” She stood up. “George’s price is already very fair. Do you think restaurants are easy to sell these days? I talked to him for a long time before he even agreed to take it!” “Talked for a long time? Since when did you start talking?” She opened her mouth, but said nothing. “These past few days while I was on my business trip?” I continued. “Or even earlier?” “What are you implying?” She glared at me. “Tony, just say what you mean. Don’t be so cryptic.”

“I’m not implying anything,” I said, my face calm. “I just want to know when you started planning to sell the restaurant, and how you negotiated.” “We talked about it last year. George is in the restaurant chain business, and he was interested in our location, wanted to turn it into a flagship store for his brand.” I pressed on. “$1.8 million – was that your asking price, or his offer?” Her eyes flickered. “Does it make a difference?” “It does,” I said. “If it was his offer, then he’s taking advantage of you because you don’t understand the market.” “If it was your asking price, then you’re practically giving away my dad’s legacy.” Her face changed. “Tony! Get your facts straight, who’s giving it away?” “I’ve worked my fingers to the bone managing that restaurant these past two years. I know better than anyone what it’s worth!” “Then tell me, what is it worth?” She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. I watched her, waiting for an answer. “Anyway, the contract’s already signed,” she turned her face away. “There’s no point in talking about this.” “Signed?” “Signing tomorrow,” she said. “The letter of intent has been signed.” I said nothing more. She waited a while. Seeing that I remained silent, she spoke again. “Tony, I know you feel it’s your dad’s legacy and you don’t want to let go.” “But have you ever thought, what are we keeping it for?” “You don’t manage it, and I’m tired of managing it. Now that we can sell it for a good price, why not just sell it and be done with it?” “$1.8 million, you call that a good price?” “It’s not for you, but it is for me,” she said, her voice sharp. “I’ve been with you for so many years, what have you ever given me? You’re always on business trips. Have you ever handled anything at home? Or at the restaurant? Now that I want to sell it, you’re suddenly speaking up.” I retorted, “So you’re selling the restaurant because I travel too much?” “Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed. “I’m selling the restaurant because I don’t want to deal with those people anymore. I want an easier life. Is that wrong?” “No, it’s not.” “Then that’s it,” she stood up. “We’ll sign the contract tomorrow. Once the money’s in, we’ll split it fifty-fifty. If you want a divorce, fine by me, I don’t care.” I looked into her eyes and asked, “Are you serious?” “Serious.” I nodded. “Alright. Don’t regret it.” She let out a laugh, then turned and went into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. I stood in the living room for a while, then went to the guest room, grabbed a blanket, and lay down on the sofa. I couldn’t sleep. My phone buzzed. I picked it up. It was a message from Rubio. “Tony, I found him. The car owner’s name is George. He runs a catering company.” “This guy is no small fry!” Attached were several documents. After carefully reading them, I replied, “Are you free tomorrow? Come with me to the restaurant.” “No problem!” I put down my phone and closed my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone rang. I picked it up and saw it was Mira, my mother-in-law. I answered, and before I could say a word, she started yelling at me. “Tony! What do you mean? You’re divorcing Lauren?” “What did she ever do to you? Is it easy for her to manage this household and such a big restaurant all by herself? Now you’re saying you want a divorce? Are you even human?” I listened, but didn’t respond. “I’m telling you, if you dare divorce her, I’m not done with you!” “Don’t think my family is easy to push around! Lauren’s been with you for seven years, what have you ever given her?” “That crumby restaurant your dad left, she helped you manage it, working her fingers to the bone every day, and now she wants to sell it, and you’re not happy about it?” “Is that yours? She’s the legal owner of that restaurant! She can sell it if she wants to, you can’t stop her!” I finally spoke. “Are you finished?” She paused. “What did you say?” “If you’re done, I’m hanging up.” “You wouldn’t dare! You have to explain yourself today!” I hung up and turned off my phone.

The living room was pitch black. I sat up and lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted upwards, dissipating on the ceiling. I remembered Lauren crying, hugging me at my dad’s funeral. She wept, saying we’d make a good life together from now on, and she’d manage the restaurant well so my dad could rest easy in heaven. At first, she went to the restaurant every week, discussing new dishes with the chef, holding meetings with the waitstaff, and reconciling accounts to calculate profits at the end of the month. Later, she gradually went less often. I asked her a few times, and she said she was too tired and wanted to hire a manager. I agreed. Even later, she stopped reconciling accounts altogether. She’d just take the manager’s word for it, couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. I thought she was working hard and didn’t say much. Thinking about it now, she probably started planning to sell it around that time. After finishing my cigarette, I lay back down. I vaguely drifted off to sleep, and when I opened my eyes again, it was already daylight. The next morning, Rubio and I arrived at the restaurant. It was just before lunch prep, waitstaff were setting tables, and the sound of chopping came from the kitchen. Seeing me enter, several old employees paused, then greeted me one by one. I responded to each of them. They looked at me, their eyes wanting to say something but holding back. Someone opened their mouth, but in the end, said nothing. Rubio followed behind me, whispering, “Tony, the vibe is off.” I didn’t respond. Walking to the kitchen door, Chef Anthony was preparing ingredients. He looked up, and his knife stopped. “Tony?” He put down the knife, wiped his hands on his apron, and came out. “Why didn’t you say you were back?” I replied, “It was a last-minute decision.” He glanced at Rubio behind me, then back at me, and pulled me aside into the stairwell. “Tell me honestly, is Lauren really selling the place?” I looked at him. He’d worked here for twenty-three years. He started with my dad when the restaurant first opened, worked his way up from kitchen helper to head chef, and watched me grow up. “Yes, Anthony.” I forced a bitter smile. His face changed. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “Really selling?” “She’s already negotiating.” “Then you…” “Don’t worry, Anthony,” I cut him off. “This place isn’t going to be sold.” He stared at me for a long time, then nodded. “That’s good.” “No matter what, me and everyone else are on your side.” A warmth spread through my heart. I said, “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it,” he waved his hand. “Your dad was always good to me. This place is his life’s work; it can’t just be squandered like this.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Oh, right. Yesterday, Lauren brought some people to see the place—a guy driving a Mercedes, and a few members of her family.” “They walked around, pointing at things.” “I know.” “Alright, as long as you’re aware.” He patted my shoulder and left. Rubio and I sat down in the main dining room and ordered two glasses of water. At eleven-thirty, a black Mercedes pulled up to the entrance. George got out, walked around to the passenger side to open the door, and Lauren stepped out, taking his arm as they walked inside. Behind them, a white Buick pulled up, and four people got out. Mira, Lauren’s uncle Rafael, her aunt Ruth, and Lauren’s cousin Mark. They didn’t seem surprised to see me inside. Mira even managed a smile—a ‘let’s see what happens’ kind of smile. George walked over, extending his hand. “Tony, right? I’ve heard a lot about you. George.” I looked at his outstretched hand, but didn’t move. His hand hovered awkwardly for a second before he pulled it back, smiling. “Lauren said you were on a business trip, but I see you’re back. Perfect, we can all talk together.” “Talk about what?” “About the transfer, of course,” he smiled. “Lauren and I have already agreed. We’re signing the contract today. After this, the restaurant will be mine.” “Yours?” “That’s right. $1.8 million, an absolutely fair price. I plan to turn this restaurant into a chain brand, make it a flagship store.” I looked at him, saying nothing. Lauren walked over, set her bag on the table, and pulled out a stack of documents. “George, the contract’s here,” she said. “Go ahead and sign.” Mira leaned in, eyeing me, and immediately warned, “Tony, I’m telling you, don’t mess things up here.” “Lauren is the legal owner, she makes the decisions. Your say doesn’t count.” I ignored her, looking at Lauren. “I’m asking you one more time. Are you really selling?” “Of course,” Mira cut in. “Why else would we be here? Do you think we’re just bored?” The others immediately chimed in: “Exactly. George is a big shot. He’s doing you a favor by taking this crumby place off your hands. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Lauren’s been with you for seven years, what have you ever given her? Now she’s selling the place and splitting the money with you, what more do you want?” Mark stood behind them, filming on his phone, muttering, “Gonna post this on Twitter, let everyone see what a cheapskate Tony is.” Rubio stood up, pointing at him and snapping. “What are you filming? Put that phone down.” He recoiled a step, but still muttered insults. “Who are you? Mind your own business!” Lauren handed the contract to George. “George, ignore them. Just sign.” George took the contract, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket. “Tony, don’t worry, the restaurant will definitely be better in my hands. You can come by anytime, I’ll always treat you well.” He uncapped his pen. “Hold on,” I reached out and stopped him. George looked up, his pen hovering in mid-air. Lauren frowned. “Tony, what are you doing?” Mira immediately shrieked, “I knew he’d cause trouble! George, ignore him, just sign!” Ruth stepped in front of me: “Tony, I’m warning you, don’t push your luck!” I ignored them, looking at Lauren. “Don’t be in a hurry. Wait until you see these things, then decide whether or not to sell to him.” I took a manila envelope from Rubio and placed it on the table. Lauren paused. “What is it?” “See for yourself.” She looked at me suspiciously, then picked up the envelope and pulled out the documents. After only seeing the first page, her pupils immediately constricted.

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The Johnson family was cursed. Every man in their bloodline died before his thirtieth birthday — unless he married into my family. That was the only way to break it. But on the day of my wedding to Anderson, he tore up the marriage contract in front of everyone. For his first love. He destroyed everything we had. The elders of the Johnson family tried to stop him. Anderson glared at me with pure hatred, his voice cold as ice. “Georgina, you’re nothing but a gold-digging fraud! Your family has been scamming us — taking our money, using our men — for almost a hundred years. But it stops with me. Your little game is over!” Alice clung to Anderson’s arm and looked me up and down with a dismissive smirk. “Why are you still standing there? Get out.” “With me here — a medical doctor — Anderson won’t just make it to thirty. He’ll live to be a hundred and thirty.” I thought about Anderson’s pulse that morning. Faint. Barely there. I smiled to myself. Fine. His thirtieth birthday is in three days. We’ll see who’s right. It won’t be long now…

I turned to leave, but Anderson’s mother, Laura, rushed forward and grabbed my hand. “Georgina, don’t go!” She spun around to face Anderson, her expression hardening instantly. “Anderson, apologize to Georgina right now. Stop acting like a child!” Anderson still had Alice’s hand locked in his. Laura dropped her voice low. “You know exactly why the Johnson men have married into their family for generations. Thirty years ago, your uncle broke that rule. He got hit by a truck on his thirtieth birthday and was crushed to death.” “And your Uncle Robert — he called off his engagement just like you’re doing today, strutting around like nothing could touch him. You know what happened? The second he blew out his birthday candles, he collapsed and bled out right there.” “Your birthday is in three days, Anderson. You’re throwing your life away. Apologize to Georgina. Now.” “Mom, enough!” Anderson cut her off, impatient and dismissive. He pointed at me and let out a contemptuous laugh. “That was an accident. That was a heart attack. Neither of those things had anything to do with some marriage contract.” “This whole ‘curse’ thing? It’s a scam. A con designed specifically to trap our family. They built it around us.” “And if you actually force me to marry her — I swear to God — I won’t wait for my thirtieth birthday. I’ll kill myself right now.” Anderson pulled out a knife and pressed it to his own throat. Alice dropped to her knees in front of Laura, tears streaming down her face. “Please — just trust science for once. I have monitoring equipment on Anderson. His health is perfect.” “His birthday is in three days. Let us prove it to you. The curse, the contract — it’s all a lie. I earned my medical degree for this exact moment. Please — give me a chance. Give Anderson a chance.” “Mom, if you don’t agree—” Anderson dragged the blade across his neck. A thin line of red opened up, and blood ran down his throat, soaking into the groom’s suit I had personally chosen for him. “Fine! Stop — just stop!” Laura’s voice cracked. She lunged forward and wrenched the knife from his hand. Then she turned to me, guilt written across every inch of her face. “Georgina… I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” I cut her off. I let the corner of my mouth pull into a small, quiet smile. “Honestly? I hope Alice does break this curse. I want our girls to be free. None of us ever wanted to marry into the Johnson family.” I walked away quickly. Behind me, Anderson’s voice followed — thick with disgust. “Manipulative little liar! I feel sick just looking at you. Get out of my sight!” I jogged out of the banquet hall. The moment I stepped through the doors, I doubled over and coughed up a mouthful of dark, blackened blood. I should have stayed on the mountain for a few more years before coming down. But three years ago, Anderson had seen me for the first time. He’d looked me straight in the eyes, grabbed my hand, and said with complete sincerity: “I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?” It was the first time a boy had ever confessed to me. I believed every single word. I had seen the weakness in his body right away. Because I was worried about him, I knelt before my teacher for seven days and seven nights until he gave me permission to leave the mountain. Once I was actually with Anderson, I understood just how powerful the curse really was. My abilities weren’t strong enough to fight it directly. The only way to keep him healthy was to drain my own life force — feeding it into him, night after night, while I lay awake in agony, my organs burning from the inside until dawn. I had told myself it was worth it. That you give everything for the person you love. What I hadn’t known was that his confession had been a performance. A means to an end. Before he ever approached me, he had already slept with seven other women. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. I swallowed the dense, aching grief pressing against my ribs and left the hotel. I thought it was finally over. But the moment I got back to my apartment, I stopped cold. The hallway walls were covered in red spray paint. FRAUD. WITCH. SLUT. Over and over again. And the small room I had carefully made into a home — the one filled with everything my mother had left me — was completely engulfed in flames.

So many of my mother’s gifts were inside that room. I ran toward the fire like a madwoman. I didn’t think. I just ran. The flames hit me the second I stepped forward. They climbed up my body without mercy. The skin on half my arm burned away, leaving raw flesh underneath. When my tears fell onto the exposed wounds, the pain was so sharp and sudden it stole the air from my lungs. Anderson appeared behind me with Alice wrapped in his arm. I don’t know when they had arrived. He stared at the bloody ruin of my arm. His eyes were lit with amusement. “I always figured you were some kind of all-powerful witch. Turns out you can feel pain just like the rest of us?” “Anderson — how dare you burn my things?! Without everything in that room, you would have been dead years ago!” “I said enough.” Anderson stepped forward and wrapped his hand around my throat. “Don’t you ever mention your filthy tricks around me again. The sight of them makes me sick.” “I’m not just burning your stuff. I’m going to make sure the whole world sees what you really are.” Before I could process what was happening, dozens of reporters flooded into the narrow hallway. Cameras and microphones shoved into my face from every direction. “Georgina! You’ve been taking money from the Johnson family for three years. Do you feel any remorse at all?” “This is fraud. Do you understand that? You could go to prison.” “She was trying to trap Anderson into marrying her — what a piece of work! Stop interviewing her, just hit her!” A woman in the crowd grabbed my already-ruined arm. The pain exploded through my entire body. I slid down the wall and crumpled to the ground, and then the kicks and punches started coming from everywhere at once. Anderson laughed, pulled Alice closer, and walked away. That night, I was trending. [Anderson Johnson’s ex-fiancée exposed as con artist — drained nearly $1 million from the Johnson family in just three years. Shameless!] [The Johnson family curse was a hundred-year scam — finally debunked thanks to Dr. Alice! Respect science!] I staggered out of the building still wearing my burned and shredded wedding dress. I tried to buy a change of clothes. My bank account was frozen. The automated voice on the phone was flat and impersonal. “Ms. Georgina, your account has been flagged for suspected fraud activity. We have no choice but to freeze it. We appreciate your understanding…” I counted the cash in my pocket. Barely anything. I found a small motel and walked toward the front desk. The owner spat at me before I could open my mouth. “You’re that scammer from the news, aren’t you? Get away from my property.” I hadn’t eaten in over a day. The burns on my body had already started to fester and weep. I pressed my palm to my own forehead and felt the heat radiating off it. My legs gave out. I sank down next to a trash bin in the alley and couldn’t get back up. People walked by. Some recognized me. They threw rotten eggs. They poured garbage water over my open wounds and laughed. I thought about the quiet mountain. I thought about my teacher. But I couldn’t leave yet. Tomorrow was Anderson’s birthday. When Anderson had grabbed my throat earlier, I had felt his pulse. Chaotic. Unraveling. Barely holding together. I needed to be there to see it. That thought pushed me upright. I pressed my hand against the wall and forced myself forward. Then the world went black. I came back to consciousness surrounded by the familiar smell of herbs. I forced myself to sit up through the full-body ache and found my teacher, David, sitting beside me, carefully treating my wounds. “David, I can’t go back yet—” David looked at me with quiet, heartbroken eyes as he worked on the infected burns. “I know. You need to wait until his birthday…” He didn’t finish the sentence. A crash outside cut him off. The door flew open, kicked in from the outside, and a group of men poured into the room. They grabbed me. The one in front drew a knife. And drove it into David’s heart.

I screamed and lunged toward David. The moment I got to my feet, Anderson walked through the door and backhanded me across the face. I hit the floor. He stood over me, his eyes full of contempt. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. Should’ve known you’d have a den somewhere.” Anderson pressed his boot down onto David’s wound — still bleeding — and snarled. “Talk. Was he the one behind all of it? Was this his scheme?” “Let go of him!” I crawled to Anderson’s feet on shaking arms and grabbed his ankle. “If it wasn’t for David, you would already be dead. Let him go!” Anderson looked down at me trembling at his feet. A slow, ugly smile crossed his face. “Sure.” He pulled out his phone and dropped it in front of me. “Record a video. Admit you’re a fraud. I’ll let the old man go.” “Georgina — don’t.” David stared at me through blood-red eyes, shaking his head over and over. Before he could say anything more, Anderson yanked the knife free from David’s chest and drove it in again — this time near his carotid artery. A geyser of blood erupted instantly. I threw myself toward David, but Anderson caught me and held me back. “Not going to record it? Then we’ll just sit here and watch him bleed out.” “I’ll do it. I’ll record it. Please — just stop—” Anderson watched the video back and smiled. Satisfied. He agreed to take David to the hospital. The ambulance had barely pulled up to the emergency bay when a young nurse rushed straight at me and shoved a thick stack of forms into my arms. “His condition is critical. You need to go pay the deposit. Now.” My frozen bank account flashed through my mind. I stood there, unable to move. “What are you waiting for?! He’s going to bleed to death!” The nurse kept pushing. I turned slowly and looked back at Anderson. “Anderson — my accounts are all frozen. Could you—” Anderson laughed and pulled Alice closer. “Sure. But people who need favors need to act like it.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Your family has been robbing us for a hundred years. A video isn’t going to cover that debt. Get on your knees. Apologize to me and to every ancestor of mine you scammed.” I looked at David. He was soaked through with blood. I couldn’t wait another second. I dropped to the floor in front of Anderson. “I’m sorry. I lied to you. I deceived you—” Alice cut me off with a sweet, practiced pout. “Sorry isn’t enough, sweetheart. You need to kneel properly.” “Why are you looking at me? Alice told you to kneel. Are you deaf?” I went all the way down under Anderson’s mocking stare. Then Alice slapped me across the face. Three times. I scrambled back to my feet and ran to David’s side, screaming at Anderson. “That’s enough! Go pay! Now!” “Of course. Just let me run home and grab the checkbook…” Anderson started to walk away. I grabbed his ankle. I dug my fingers in and stared up at him. “You planned this. All of it. You—” “That’s a terrible attitude for someone asking for a favor. Do you want the money or not?” My fingers went slack. “Yes. I want it. Please. Please just hurry—” Anderson came back an hour later. He flipped the payment receipt into my lap. I stumbled to the nurse’s station and pressed it into her hands. She looked at it. Then she let out a long, quiet breath. “It’s too late. He’s gone.” I stopped shaking. Something cold and still moved through me. I walked back to Anderson and swung at his face as hard as I could. “You did this on purpose! You killed him! You killed David, you piece of—” Anderson caught my wrist. His eyes went hard. “Kill you? Georgina, pay back what you owe my family before you make threats.” He threw a stack of billing statements at my feet. “Our family has been supporting your people for nearly a hundred years. You admitted on camera that it was a scam. So now it’s time to settle up.” “And if you can’t pay—” He held up his phone. My recorded confession lit up the screen. “This video goes out to everyone. And I don’t just mean you. David. Your whole family. All of it goes public.” I was shaking so hard my teeth were clicking together. “I’ll pay you back. Wait until after your birthday. I promise I’ll pay every cent.”

“After my birthday?” Anderson let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Why would I wait that long? You have money and you’re just stalling me?” “Anderson, I don’t have money. My accounts are frozen.” “Fine. If that’s how you want to play it—” His men came out of nowhere and grabbed me. They zip-tied my wrists and shoved me into a car. I didn’t understand at first. Then the car turned onto a narrow mountain road, and every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head. That was the road to my mother’s grave. In my family’s tradition, the dead are always buried with a piece of jade. Irreplaceable. Priceless. I had told Anderson that secret on the day we set our wedding date. I had trusted him with it. Anderson dragged me to my mother’s grave and waved his hand at the men behind him. “Dig.” “You’re disgusting, Anderson!” I lurched toward him, but the dirt from the excavation hit me before I got close. I stumbled and fell. Not far away, Anderson held up his phone. “Georgina. Stay still. One wrong move and that video is live.” I watched them uncover my mother’s bones. And the jade. Still beautiful, even after fifteen years in the ground. Anderson snatched it up with gleaming eyes and stuffed it into his jacket. Then he picked up my mother’s remains and threw them aside. Scattered them across the dirt like garbage. “Anderson, you’ll regret this!” “I don’t think that’s your call to make.” Alice glided forward and pinched my jaw between her fingers, tilting my face up toward hers. “Anderson’s thirtieth birthday is in a few hours. Tonight, the world finally gets to see your little trick exposed for good.” An hour later, Anderson brought me to his birthday party. His heartbeat was displayed on a massive screen at the front of the hall — a live EKG feed for the whole room to watch. Everyone in Indiana knew the Johnson family curse. The hall was packed. People had come from everywhere to witness the moment. Was the hundred-year curse real, or had it all been a lie? Alice took Anderson’s hand and walked him up onto the stage. She gestured at the enormous clock behind her. “In less than one minute, I will break this curse — right here, right now. Everyone, watch.” The hall went completely silent. Every eye moved between the clock and the EKG on the screen. The clock’s hands hit twelve. The heartbeat on the screen was strong and steady. Anderson stood tall, his color perfect. The room erupted. Even Laura broke down in tears of relief. She was already climbing the steps to the stage, reaching for Anderson— And then Anderson collapsed without warning.

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The night before our wedding, I caught Lewis tangled up with my best friend on the couch. I lost my mind completely — and slept with all three of his friends. I made sure to leave evidence everywhere. On his desk. In the passenger seat of his sports car. In his office. But when Lewis found out, he just casually stubbed out his cigarette and made a group call. “You slept with all of them? How was it?” Laughter crackled through the phone. “Pretty flexible.” “She was alright. Just a little stiff — nowhere near as fun as that actress I’ve been seeing.” “Lewis, did you never bother training her? She moved like a board.” The revenge I’d so carefully planned was nothing but a punchline to him. He didn’t care at all. I completely fell apart. I had a breakdown. And Lewis had me committed to a psychiatric facility. I spent a year there. Then, finally, I got better. Outside the window, a Bentley pulled into the courtyard and went quiet. Lewis had come to take me home. He still remembered to come for me. But I had already forgotten how to love him.

The nurse pushed open the door. “Mr. Lewis has finished the discharge paperwork. You’re free to go.” I nodded numbly. As I walked out of the hospital, I could still hear a few nurses whispering behind me. “Poor thing. Her own fiancé drove her to this.” “What’s so sad about it? He’s gorgeous and loaded — he even pays for everything. It’s not like he hit her. She should’ve just looked the other way. Some people don’t know how good they’ve got it.” A year ago, words like that would have sent me into hysterics. Now, they couldn’t even make me slow my steps. Lewis was leaning against the Bentley, waiting. I walked over to him. He curled his index finger, reaching toward my face. “You’ve lost weight.” I tilted my head slightly and pulled back. His hand hung in the air for a moment, then dropped. He opened the passenger door. “Get in.” There was a used lipstick on the seat. Lewis snatched it out of my hand, rolled down the window, and tossed it out. “My assistant left that. Don’t mind it.” I smiled faintly and said nothing. That lipstick was Mia’s favorite brand — my best friend’s. Not that it mattered anymore. I’d stopped caring a long time ago. At a red light, Lewis tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, then finally spoke. “It’s over between me and her. I threw out that couch — got a new one in the style you like.” “Mm.” A soft sound from me. He continued. “I had the housekeeper clean your things every day. Nothing got dusty.” “Thank you.” I smiled faintly. Lewis glanced over at me, his expression unreadable. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box. “I had the ring remade. Bigger diamond than before. Do you like it?” I didn’t take the box. “Let’s call off the wedding.” Lewis didn’t take my words seriously. He just dropped the box into my lap. “Enough of the drama. I slept with your best friend, you slept with my three friends — and you even came out two ahead. Call it even.” “The spot as my wife is still yours. I promised you that. Stop playing hard to get.” I stared at the little box in my hands and said nothing. I just smiled, quietly and bitterly. I wasn’t playing anything. I was simply leaving for somewhere else. Somewhere quiet — a little village, nothing like this city, where my parents were buried. A place without him, where it wouldn’t hurt. The car pulled through the gates of the estate. Nothing had changed. I didn’t go to our bedroom. I dragged my suitcase toward the guest room. Lewis stepped in front of me. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I got used to sleeping alone in the hospital.” I glanced back at the room that had once been ours. “And I don’t want to sleep in that bed anymore.” The day I’d found out about him and Mia, I’d checked the security footage. It wasn’t just the couch. They’d been in our bed too — the one he’d had custom-made for me. When I saw that, the pain nearly killed me. Lewis stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh. “Fine. But don’t take it too far. You always do this, and then you end up back in the hospital.” I watched him walk away. The old ache didn’t come. Maybe the treatment really had worked. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have my heart beat for him, to rise and fall with his moods. Late that night, I lay in the soft guest bed, restless. After a year on the hard hospital mattress, I couldn’t get comfortable. During that year, Lewis never visited once. Fear had swallowed me whole. I used to scream and cry for the doctors and nurses, threatening to hurt myself if they didn’t let me call him. Once. Twice. Three times. He never picked up. Slowly, I went numb. And when I got better, I no longer wanted to call him at all.

Thirsty, I got up and went downstairs for water. That’s when I saw Lewis on the balcony, on the phone. His voice was low, but I could make out every word. “Yeah, good girl. Tomorrow at the auction — bid on whatever you want, don’t worry about the price. I know, I know. Things are just a little busy right now, I can’t be with you every minute.” That gentle, indulgent tone. It used to belong only to me. I stood behind him, glass in hand, and listened for a moment. Then I decided it wasn’t worth my time. I turned to leave. “Betty?” His voice came from behind me. “When did you come down?” He’d already hung up. “Just now…” He started to explain, but I cut him off. “I was thirsty. Just came for water. Don’t stop on my account.” He moved toward me, reaching out. But I was already halfway up the stairs. At the landing, I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He was watching me the whole way up. The next morning at breakfast, Lewis poured me a glass of milk. It was a habit of his. I always used to drink it. He would watch me with a soft smile. This time, I didn’t touch it. I poured myself a glass of warm water instead. His smile froze on his face, but he didn’t say anything. Lewis stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. “I need to step out for a bit.” “Okay,” I said. He paused at the door, looking back at me. “No questions?” I thought about it for a moment. Once, I would have drilled him — where are you going, how long, who with. Somewhere along the way I’d turned into someone desperate, someone terrified of being left behind. But not anymore. “No,” I said simply. Lewis stood there for a few seconds, then left without another word. After he was gone, I went upstairs to finish packing. There wasn’t much to take. I didn’t want the hospital clothes — they only brought back pain. I put my parents’ photo into the suitcase. And a journal. The one I’d kept at the facility. I flipped through it. Every page had just one line. Called him again today. The 180th time. He didn’t answer. Treatment was painful today. I miss Mom and Dad so much. No one loves me anymore. Now even he treats me this way. It’s my birthday today. No one remembered. I think it’s been three days since I thought about him. The doctor said I’m almost healed. I closed the journal and dropped it in the trash. Lewis was back soon, and he brought his three friends with him. They went into the study to talk business. The study door hadn’t been pulled shut all the way. From the living room, I could catch pieces of their conversation. “So how are things with you and Betty?” That was Austin — the one who’d said I was flexible. Lewis’s voice was calm. “Fine.” Then Daniel — the one who’d called me stiff. “She looks normal now. Just sitting in the living room reading. Didn’t even react when we came in. I half expected her to flip out.” Austin again: “Honestly though — that girl Mia. Isn’t she getting a little too bold lately? She bid seven hundred million on a necklace at the auction today without blinking. That’s one thing. But then she’s going around telling everyone you bought it for her.”

Lewis’s voice: “If she’s happy, that’s fine.” Daniel: “You’re not worried Betty finds out? You just got her out of the facility. Don’t go sending her right back.” Lewis: “She’ll find out, she’ll make a scene, she’ll calm down. She always does. Gets old.” Flat. Matter-of-fact. Like clockwork. Then Griffin — the one who’d said I was untrained. “Honestly, she seems better than before. At least she’s not screaming and throwing things. Lewis, have you had a chance to… reconnect with her since she’s been back?” “Enough.” Lewis’s voice went cold. Silence fell on the other side of the study door. I sat on the couch, turning the pages of my book. My heart was still. Daniel was the first to come out of the study. He walked over to the couch, looked me over, and let a slow smile spread across his face. “Betty. You’re looking a lot better. If you ever need company again — you know where to find me.” I said nothing. He dropped down beside me. “I mean it. I still think about that night.” Griffin and Austin drifted out after him. Austin’s gaze landed on my waist. He grinned at Daniel. “She’s thinner now. Wonder if the feel is the same.” Griffin snorted. “No wonder Lewis got bored. She just sits there with that blank face. Where’s the fun in that.” Lewis came out last. He looked at me. “There’s a party tonight. Get ready — you’re coming with me. You’re my fiancée. Understood?” “What time does it end?” I asked. He seemed confused by the question, but he answered. “Ten.” My flight was at eleven. So I nodded. Agreed. His three friends exchanged glances and smirked. At the party, Lewis walked me around, introduced me to people. Though introductions were barely necessary. The whole ugly story had made its rounds — everyone remembered the woman who’d gone crazy, slept with her fiancé’s three friends, and been personally committed by the man she loved. They smiled brightly at Lewis. When they looked at me, something else moved through their eyes. Pity, mostly. I smiled politely and felt nothing. “Lewis.” Mia’s sweet voice floated toward us. She glided to his side like it was the most natural thing in the world, slipping her arm through his. “Thank you.” She shifted slightly as she said it, letting her neckline catch the light. The seven-hundred-million-dollar necklace drew every eye in the room. Lewis’s expression didn’t flicker. He even gave her a warm smile. “As long as you like it.” Like I wasn’t standing right there. I felt a wave of nausea. I slipped my arm free from his. “I need to use the restroom.” Lewis leaned close to my ear. “If you want to make a scene, save it for home. Not here. Understand? Come back quickly.” I said yes, walked to the restroom, and threw up. My head was spinning as I stood over the sink. A memory surfaced — nurses prying my mouth open in the facility, forcing medication down my throat to make me stop screaming. At least now I wasn’t going to lose it again. No more being held down, no more forced medication. I left the restroom and passed by a terrace. Daniel and Griffin were there, leaning on the railing, smoking. They saw me, and started talking. Daniel blew a smoke ring. “Look at her. You think she’s holding herself together? Probably eating herself up with jealousy right now.” Griffin laughed under his breath. “And Mia had to wear that necklace. Just asking for trouble. She’s going to push the woman over the edge again and then act surprised.”

I walked straight past them. I went back to Lewis’s side. He looked down at me, something like satisfaction in his eyes. He smelled like Mia’s perfume. I didn’t want to think about what had happened while I was gone. It didn’t matter anymore. I checked my phone. Thirty minutes until ten. Lewis bent close and murmured into my ear. “Let’s do the wedding next month. I’ve been looking at venues. I’ll have my assistant send you the options tonight — you can pick.” I looked up at him. “I already told you. The wedding is off.” A warning crept into his voice. “There’s a limit to how far you can push this. I told you — the spot as my wife is always yours. What more do you want — do you need me to get down on my knees?” He was impatient. He kept reading my detachment as a tantrum. “I don’t want anything from you,” I said. “I’m just not marrying you.” “Fine.” His voice turned sharp. “Do you need me to send you back to the facility before you’ll start making sense? Don’t be ungrateful.” I took a slow breath. “You still think I’m throwing a fit. Don’t you.” “Aren’t you?” He laughed curtly. “How many times have we done this over Mia? Just tell me how many.” I was about to say that I genuinely didn’t care anymore. But before I could, Mia came swaying back across the room. She was moving like someone who’d had too much to drink. She let herself fall against Lewis, arms winding around his neck. “I’m so dizzy.” She melted against him, voice soft. “Lewis, I think I drank too much.” As she said it, she flicked her eyes over at me. She wasn’t drunk at all. She was daring me to react. The three friends were watching from nearby, clearly waiting for the show. Lewis put an arm around Mia’s waist. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t push her away. He glanced at me. The old me would have already snapped. Would have shoved her, screamed, made a scene. Instead I said, calmly, “If Mia’s had too much to drink, you should take her home.” Something shifted in Lewis’s expression. He opened his mouth, but Mia cut in first. “Lewis, take me home. I just want you to take me, like you used to. Please?” Lewis hesitated, then turned to me. “Go home and wait for me. I’ll take her back and come straight to you. Don’t cause a scene. Just go home.” I smiled and nodded. “Okay.” Lewis scooped Mia up in his arms and carried her out, right in front of everyone. Daniel started clapping as he walked over to me. He looked me up and down. “Betty, seriously — what kind of facility did you go to? It’s a miracle.” “So which is it — genuine peace, or holding it together?” Griffin came closer too. “Say what you want, this version of you is a lot easier to be around than the old one. Lewis might actually be into it — playing it cool, making him come to you. Smart move.” I didn’t bother responding. I turned and walked out. Behind me, Austin called out, “Really going home to wait like a good girl? Not even going to wait for Lewis to come back and comfort you?” I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I got in a cab, went home to get my suitcase, and went to the airport. I boarded the plane and put my phone on airplane mode. I slept. It felt like a long sleep. When I woke up, the plane had landed. I turned off airplane mode. In almost the same instant, my phone started shaking violently.

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Married for five years, Rhys Blackwood never mentioned me publicly. Everyone in our elite circle whispered that he’d married a deaf woman, but he’d only offer a faint smile, never confirming or denying. I told myself he loved me, he just wasn’t good at expressing it. Until that night, when I saw an anonymous post: “When you’re doing it, take off her hearing aids and call out your ex-girlfriend’s name. She won’t hear you, she’ll just think you’re telling her you love her.” The account’s profile picture was a stray cat I’d personally photographed. I’d only ever sent it to him. Turns out, I was just his chosen stand-in. Elara POV A silent world is profoundly quiet. Beyond the world I could only access with my hearing aids, all that remained was a vast, expansive white, and boundless emptiness. It was two in the morning, and the light from my phone screen felt harsh in the dark. An anonymous trending post on a social media app had been pushed to the top. The topic: “What’s it like to have a hearing-impaired girlfriend?” The top-voted answer stung my eyes. It was just a single, short line, dripping with casual indifference: “When you’re doing it, take off her hearing aids and call out your ex-girlfriend’s name. She won’t hear you, she’ll just think you’re telling her you love her.” Countless replies followed. Some cursed: “Scumbag. Aren’t you afraid of karma?” Some asked: “What if she finds out?” The original poster replied: “She won’t. Besides, she’s my wife now. She can’t survive without me.” My finger hovered over the screen for a long time, my fingertip white. The profile picture for that account was a stray cat, the same one I’d fed in the rich neighborhood’s backyard two years ago. I’d taken that photo, and I’d only ever sent it to one person. Rhys Blackwood. My heart felt like it was being brutally squeezed by an invisible hand, blood flowing backward, freezing into ice. Two years ago, Rhys had changed all his social media profile pictures to this cat. Back then, I thought he loved everything connected to me. Now I knew, it was because the cat looked exactly like Seraphina, the woman he’d gone abroad to study with. The cat’s eyes were amber too, arrogant, dignified, and aloof. I clicked on his profile. He never posted photos of us on social media, and his bio was blank. But his latest post was just ten minutes old, only one picture. Under dim light, a long, slender, bony hand held another delicate hand. The caption: “Long time no see.” Flashback five years, to the day of our unremarkable wedding. It was pouring rain. Our car was parked outside the church. Rhys held my hand just like that, not looking at me, but at the curtain of rain. He said flatly, “Elara, from now on, this is your home.” I thought it was a promise. Now, it seemed it was nothing more than a slow, insidious torture that had lasted five years. The sound of an engine shutting off came from downstairs. Followed by the beeping of the keypad lock unlocking. Each sound was like a spike driven into my heart. The bedroom door opened, bringing in the chill of a late autumn night, mixed with a faint tobacco smell, and… a subtle, unfamiliar scent of iris. That was Seraphina’s favorite perfume. “Still awake?” Rhys’s voice was low and magnetic. It was a frequency I could barely discern even with my hearing aids, yet it was etched into my bones. He casually draped his suit jacket over the chair, his long fingers loosening his tie, and walked towards the bed. Under the lamplight, his features were chiseled and deep, his eyes carrying an innate aloofness. He was the most powerful billionaire in this district, accustomed to controlling everything. He leaned over, his shadow enveloping me. I instinctively flinched. Rhys’s movements paused slightly, his deep-set eyes narrowed, as if he sensed my unease, but quickly returned to his usual indifference. “What’s wrong?” He reached out, his fingertips tracing my pale cheek, which felt cold. “Had a nightmare?” I looked at him. I looked at the face I’d loved for seven whole years. From admiring him from afar in college, to our accidental encounters, and then to this marriage certificate. I was like a humble scavenger, picking up the small crumbs of affection that slipped through his fingers. “No.” I spoke, my voice a little hoarse from long silence. I couldn’t hear my own voice very well, so I usually spoke very little, always afraid of mispronouncing words and being laughed at. But in front of Rhys, I always tried hard to respond. Rhys didn’t seem to care about my answer. He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and casually tossed it onto the nightstand. “Brought it back from my business trip. See if you like it.” The box sprang open to reveal an intricately crafted diamond necklace. I recognized it. Seraphina had worn the exact same one on the cover of a fashion magazine last month. The design of that necklace was perfect for covering a small mole Seraphina had on her neck. My neck, however, was clean, with nothing there. “Thank you.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the desolation in my eyes. Rhys smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his tone as gentle as if coaxing a disobedient pet. “Good girl. I’m going to take a shower.” The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom. I stared at the blue velvet box, my stomach churning violently, a wave of nausea washing over me.

Elara POV The water stopped in the bathroom. Rhys emerged, wrapped in a bathrobe, his hair still dripping. He had an excellent physique: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles that were defined but not overly bulky. The typical “looks lean in clothes, toned without.” His phone vibrated on the nightstand. The screen lit up, displaying an unsaved number. I was close enough that one glance was all it took for me to see the digits. I knew that number by heart. I’d heard it countless times in Rhys’s drunken ramblings. Rhys stopped drying his hair, his gaze sweeping across the screen. His previously languid expression instantly sharpened. He picked up the phone and looked at me. His eyes held a warning, or perhaps a sense of indifferent entitlement. He didn’t avoid me; he simply swiped to answer. “Rhys.” The voice from the receiver was distorted but still revealed a woman’s sobs and grievances. “I’m back.” “I heard you got married? That mute… does she really look that much like me?” My hand, tucked under the covers, clenched tightly. My nails dug into my palm, a piercing pain. So, in their eyes, I was not only deaf but also mute. Rhys didn’t speak, just listened quietly. The woman on the other end said something else. His brow furrowed slightly, but his tone softened, filled with a patience I’d never heard before. “Stop it. Go to bed early.” After he hung up, the room fell into a deathly silence. I looked up at him. Rhys casually tossed his phone back onto the nightstand, his face composed, as if the call had been an insignificant interlude. “Work stuff,” he explained blandly. He couldn’t even bother to craft a convincing lie. Because he was sure I couldn’t hear what was said on the other end. And he was just as sure I couldn’t leave him. “Go to sleep.” The lights went out. Darkness instantly swallowed everything. Rhys’s presence drew near, carrying the dampness from his shower and that persistent iris scent. An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. My body was rigid, like stone. I wanted to push him away, to demand answers, to scream hysterically. But what right did I have? The prenuptial agreement stated it clearly: a mutually beneficial arrangement. He gave me the status of Mrs. Blackwood, a life of unparalleled luxury, and a hefty donation to the orphanage. And all I had to do was be a quiet, obedient, and trouble-free wife. “Relax.” Rhys’s voice brushed my ear, his hot breath on my neck. The next second, a warm, large hand gently touched my ear. Skillfully, without question, he removed my hearing aid. The world instantly went silent. All sounds were stripped away, leaving only the thunderous pounding of my own heart. My pupils contracted violently. It was true. What the post said, it was true. Before this, I thought it was just his peculiar habit. He liked to see my lost, helpless expression during intimacy, liked to see me clinging tightly to him because I couldn’t hear, like a drowning person grasping at a final piece of driftwood. I thought it was a game, a possessive desire. Turns out, it was just so he could whisper another woman’s name in my ear. Rhys kissed me. His movements were savage, like a release, a primal taking. My eyes were open, and in the faint moonlight streaming through the window, I stared fixedly at his face. He was aroused. His eyes, usually so cold and distant, were now stained with scarlet lust. What was he saying? I’d learned some lip-reading. Though not an expert, at such close range, I saw it clearly. His lips parted and closed, unmistakably forming another woman’s name. Seraphina. A crushing wave of humiliation drowned me. Tears silently streamed from the corners of my eyes, disappearing into my hairline. Rhys didn’t notice my tears. Or rather, even if he did, he wouldn’t care. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a useful, obedient replacement with a somewhat similar face. That night, I felt like I died. In that silent world, I heard the sound of my heart breaking.

Elara POV Morning. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, casting a harsh glare on the carpet. The spot beside me on the bed was already cold. Rhys was always disciplined, his body clock frighteningly precise. I sat up in bed, my entire body aching as if I’d been run over by a truck. I fumbled for my hearing aids and put them on. The world became noisy again. Downstairs, I could faintly hear the clinking of dishes and the low murmur of house staff. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was pale, with faint dark circles under my eyes, and there were still marks from last night’s frenzy on my neck. My face, indeed, bore a resemblance to Seraphina’s. Especially my eyes. Seraphina was a vibrant rose; I was a cool, pristine lily. Rhys loved roses but, to save trouble, cultivated a lily that didn’t require meticulous care. I splashed cold water on my face, the chill stinging my nerves, clearing my head somewhat. I changed and went downstairs. In the dining room, Rhys was already seated at the head of the table, eating breakfast. He wore a tailored dark suit, his hair neatly combed-once again the aloof CEO. Last night’s wildness and loss of control seemed to have never happened. “Morning.” When he saw me descend, he didn’t even look up, just gave a faint acknowledgment. His tablet displayed stock market trends. Breakfast on the table was lavish. But there was no hot milk, which I loved. Only Seraphina’s preferred items: whole wheat toast and black coffee. Rhys suffered from severe stomach problems, yet he forced himself to eat these non-stomach-friendly foods with Seraphina, and this habit had continued into our marriage. “I’m not eating.” I stood by the table, my voice very soft. Rhys finally looked up, his brow furrowed, seemingly displeased by my unusual behavior. “What’s with the tantrum?” He set his coffee cup down, the ceramic clinking against the table. “Did I hurt you last night?” His tone held a hint of casual teasing, yet it sent shivers down my spine. “Rhys.” It was the first time I’d called him by his full name. Rhys raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, watching me with an amused expression, as if observing a cat that had suddenly bared its claws. “Let’s get a divorce.” The air froze for three seconds. Rhys scoffed, as if he’d heard the most ridiculous joke. “Elara, that’s not funny at all.” He stood up and walked over to me, looking down. The oppressive pressure was overwhelming. “Divorce? Without me, how will you survive?” “Who will pay the exorbitant medical bills for your brother, the vegetable in the private hospital? Who will sort out your messy debts?” With each sentence he spoke, my face grew paler. He was right. He held my lifeline in his hand. For five years, he had been my god, my sky, my only refuge in this cruel world. That’s why he was so reckless. I took a deep breath, pulled a document from my bag, and placed it on the table. “I’ve already signed the agreement.” “I’ll find a way to pay for Liam’s medical expenses myself. As for those debts, I don’t care about them anymore.” I looked up, my eyes, which were always docile and gentle, now held a desolate resolve. “Rhys, I don’t love you anymore.” Rhys’s face instantly darkened. The pressure in the air became suffocating. He didn’t like hearing that. Even a dog kept for five years, if it suddenly tried to run away, its owner would be displeased. Let alone a woman who, no matter how much he neglected her, would always wait obediently at home. “Are you sure?” His voice was as cold as ice shards. “Once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.” “Elara, you’d better not regret this.” I didn’t speak. I turned, without a hint of reluctance. No luggage, no jewelry he’d given me, not even the expensive hearing aids. I took them off and placed them next to the divorce agreement on the table. They held too many of his fake affections and cruel murmurs. I didn’t want them anymore. The world returned to silence. I pushed open the heavy villa door. The late autumn wind, carrying fallen leaves, blew into my face. It was cold, but I felt an unprecedented sense of freedom. This time, I didn’t look back.

Rhys POV I stared at the signed divorce agreement on the table, and the pair of lonely hearing aids beside it. An inexplicable irritation welled up inside me. It felt like a puppet I’d always controlled suddenly cutting its strings and collapsing to the ground. “Throw these away,” I coldly instructed my assistant. The assistant cautiously asked, “Mr. Blackwood, Mrs. Blackwood, she…” “Don’t bother with her,” I tugged at my tie, my eyes dark. “No money, no power, and deaf. She won’t last three days out there.” I knew Elara too well. Weak, dependent, like a helpless vine that needs to cling to a strong tree to survive. This was just a ploy, trying to play hard to get. Was she jealous because of that call last night? Women always resorted to such tricks to get attention. I picked up my car keys and strode out of the villa. But that empty room seemed even colder than usual. On my way to the office, I received a call from Seraphina. “Rhys, I’m waiting for you at the club.” Her voice was soft and sweet, with a hint of a playful whine. My brow smoothed out, and that inexplicable irritation deep inside me was suppressed. This was the life our social class was supposed to have. A vibrant, radiant woman who could stand beside me. Not Elara, who only knew how to be silent, who would only look at me with innocent eyes. The luxury private club in the city center. Seraphina was wearing a seasonal haute couture trench coat, her makeup impeccable, just as she had been years ago. When she saw me enter, she immediately stood up and fluttered into my arms like a butterfly. “Rhys, I missed you so much.” My body stiffened slightly, then I raised my arms and hugged her back. The familiar scent of her perfume, the familiar touch. But for some reason, what flashed through my mind was Elara’s desolate eyes this morning. And that sentence: “I don’t love you anymore.” “What’s wrong?” Seraphina noticed my distraction, looking up, a hint of curiosity in her cat-like eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” “No,” I collected my thoughts, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Why did you suddenly come back?” “I got bored over there,” Seraphina linked her arm through mine and sat down, mentioning casually, “I heard your little mute wife ran away?” My movements froze, and I looked at her. Seraphina stuck out her tongue. “Don’t look at me like that, everyone in the circle is talking about it. They say Mr. Blackwood is charming, and as soon as he reconciled with his first love, his wife stepped aside.” She chuckled, somewhat triumphantly. “But she does have self-awareness. She knew I was coming back, so she made way.” I frowned. For some reason, hearing Seraphina refer to Elara with such disdain made me deeply uncomfortable. “She’s not mute,” I corrected coldly. Seraphina was startled, then whined, “I just said it casually. She’s just a stand-in, are you feeling bad for her?” Stand-in. Those two words felt like thorns pricking my heart. I used to think that too. Elara was just Seraphina’s shadow. But now, the shadow was gone, and something felt profoundly wrong. The waiter brought coffee. I picked up the cup and took a sip, my brows tightly knit. It’s bitter. At home, Elara always remembered to add half a sugar cube to my coffee-my preferred sweetness. Not too much, not too little, just right. “Why is this coffee so bad?” I impatiently set the cup down. Seraphina looked a little bewildered. “But this is the espresso you used to love the most. It hasn’t changed.” She was right, it hadn’t changed. The person had. My phone suddenly rang. It was my assistant. “Mr. Blackwood, it’s bad,” the assistant’s voice was anxious. “The hospital just called. Elara just took her brother away.” My eyelids twitched. “Took him where?” “We don’t know. She completed the discharge procedures, paid all the fees, and left directly with him. We can’t track her whereabouts.” Paid all the fees? Where did she get the money? The veins on the back of my hand, clutching the phone, bulged. Elara didn’t have money. She had never touched the card I gave her. She only used a small amount of living expenses each month; the rest she saved… No, wait. I suddenly remembered that two years ago, Elara had apparently sold a painting. She was a graduate of a prestigious art academy. Although not famous, her painting skills were excellent. How much did that painting sell for? I hadn’t cared at all at the time. “Find them,” my voice was terribly dark, like the sea before a storm. “Search the entire city! Find her!” I hung up, my face ashen. Seraphina was startled by my appearance, cautiously tugging at my sleeve. “Rhys, what’s wrong? Is that mute… is that woman important to you?” I shook off her hand, stood up, and looked down at the woman I had yearned for five years. Suddenly, I felt utterly indifferent. “I have to go.” With that, I strode away, ignoring Seraphina’s stunned expression. My car sped down the highway. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, pressing the accelerator to the floor. Elara. Good for you. You’d better pray I don’t catch you. Otherwise… I didn’t even know what “otherwise” would entail. All I knew was that the hollow space in my chest was filled with cold wind, a sharp, aching pain.

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I’ve liked Liam for three years. Then, I accidentally overheard him talking to my brother. “Your brother’s twenty-two, right? I’ve never seen him date anyone.” My brother: “Yeah, now that you mention it, I’ve never seen him get close to any girl.” “You really don’t care enough about your brother. Find some time to set him up. He’s like a kid; he needs someone more mature.” My heart sank to the bottom of a lake. There was no way he didn’t know I liked him. But I guess I need to have some dignity. If he’s saying that, it means he doesn’t like me. I immediately pulled out my phone and called in reinforcements. I got my friend from the drama club, Chloe, to pretend to be my girlfriend. I thought I had this in the bag. But when Chloe showed up, both Liam and my brother turned green. 1 When I led Chloe into the private room, my heart was beating a chaotic rhythm. Today was my brother’s birthday, and he had invited some of his closest buddies. Among them, naturally, was our childhood friend, Liam. Coincidentally, my feelings for Liam changed three years ago, turning him from a good buddy into the object of my secret affection. Even more coincidentally, when I was taking care of a drunk Liam a few days ago, I accidentally let slip that I liked him. I originally thought he was too drunk to remember anything, but looking at it today, he must have heard everything. Including that restrained kiss. I didn’t even dare to kiss his face; I just kissed his ring finger. Thinking about it now, I was really shameless. Having a secret crush is one thing, why did I have to… See? He was bringing in outside help to set me straight. So, when I heard him say he was going to set me up, I instinctively called for backup. Instead of waiting for him to introduce someone to me, I might as well find a fake one myself. I’m already like this, why look for a real girlfriend? That would just be ruining someone else’s life! There were over a dozen people in the private room. They all froze for a second when they saw me walk in with Chloe. “No way, I was just wondering why a plus-one brought a plus-one. Tell me, bro, are you showing off to me?!” The one speaking was my brother’s former college roommate. He used to come over to our house a lot, so we were pretty close. I smiled and replied, “I wouldn’t dare show off to you. She was just in the neighborhood, so I brought her over to say hi. I’ll take her back in a bit.” Chloe smiled sweetly, raising her hand to wave, “Hi, everyone. I’m Alex’s girlfriend.” “Oh, okay, okay.” “Hello, hello.” “Yeah, nice to meet you.” … I pointed to my brother and said to Chloe, “This is my biological brother.” Chloe smiled and looked over, “Nice to meet you… brother?” What’s with that tone? I looked at my brother in confusion, only to find his face had turned green, without a hint of a smile. What’s going on? And Liam, sitting next to him, looked even greener. What’s the meaning of this? Anyway, the situation wasn’t right, so running away was the best option. “I just brought her to say hi. I’ll take her back first, I’ll be back in a bit.” With that, I grabbed Chloe’s hand and left the private room amidst a chorus of “Goodbye, sister-in-law.” On the way, I asked Chloe what was going on. Chloe looked troubled and said, “Your brother, he’s been hitting on me lately.” I gasped, “You’re actually my future sister-in-law.” Chloe was furious, “How do you know I have to choose him?!” I pointed at her face, “Your face is burning red, the same color as a boiled lobster.” Chloe hurriedly covered her face. I called a cab to take her back to school. Just before she got out, she suddenly said to me, “I think the guy sitting next to your brother likes you.” Me: … The guy next to my brother was Liam. “Stop joking. He’s the one who wanted to set me up with a girlfriend.” Chloe was shocked, “No way, bro. I’ve been swimming in the shipping fandom for years, my radar is spot on.” I smiled bitterly, “There’s a lot of baggage here. I’ll tell you about it when I have time.” 2 After dropping Chloe off at her dorm, I went back to the restaurant. Thinking about the spicy garlic shrimp and roasted lamb chops on the table, I decided to go wash my hands first. Before, Liam would always peel my shrimp for me. But with the current situation, are we considered to have fallen out? I really didn’t have the face to accept his shrimp-peeling service anymore. I was sadly washing my hands when someone grabbed me from behind by the waist and dragged me into the bathroom stall. Holy crap, what’s going on? Kidnapping? Just as I was about to yell, a hand covered my mouth. Liam’s voice sounded in my ear, “It’s me.” My body instantly relaxed, but because I was so scared just now, the sudden release made my legs go weak. As I slumped down, Liam caught me in a full embrace. He pressed me against the wall, forcing me to stand up straight. “What’s wrong? Why are your legs weak?” My face flushed red. Never mind the weak legs, why is he talking to me from so close! He was speaking right into my ear. I didn’t even dare to turn my head; if I did, I’d definitely kiss him on the mouth. I didn’t say anything. Liam chuckled twice, then continued to ask close to my ear, “How come you never told me you had a girlfriend? Why so distant?” I pushed him, but my hands met rock-hard pecs. Heh, show-off. I pushed a few times but couldn’t move him. So I just stiffened my neck and answered, “It’s not a big deal, so I didn’t think to tell you guys.” “Then why tell us today?” “I thought the timing was right, and she was in the neighborhood.” “How long have you been together?” I kept pushing him. Seriously, why does he have to build so much muscle? A weakling like me can’t move him at all. “Do you have to talk to me like this? Let me go first.” “Alright.” He finally let me go, and the surrounding air rushed back in. Being pinned in the corner by him just now really made me feel like I was trapped by an iron wall, unable to breathe. “Speak.” My eyes darted around, then I clutched my stomach, “Bro~ I’m so hungry, my stomach hurts. Can I eat something first? Let’s talk after I eat.” “Stomach?” I moved my hand covering my belly upwards a bit. Liam looked at me and nodded, “Fine, let’s eat first. After we’re done, you’re coming home with me.” “What?” I was shocked, “I’m not going home with you.” “Then let’s make things clear right now.” Me: … “I’ll give you two choices. Say it now, or think it through now, get your thoughts in order, make up a lie, and tell me when we go home tonight.” Me: … “Looks like you want to say it now.” I sighed, “I’ll go home with you tonight.” “Let’s go.” Back in the private room, they were talking about some new project they were working on. I didn’t understand a word; I just wanted to eat. But looking at the table, there was basically nothing left. Just as I was falling into despair, Liam pulled out two food storage containers from the cabinet behind him. “I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I got some food set aside for you. I also ordered a bowl of bamboo noodles from the waiter just now, you should eat some carbs too.” I watched him open the lids of the containers and place them in front of me. My favorite lamb chops, present. My favorite shrimp, also present. The broccoli and carrots I hate, also present. … I secretly pushed the container with broccoli and carrots to the side. But it was pushed right back. “Don’t be a picky eater.” Despair. But the lamb chops and shrimp were really good. While I was gnawing on the lamb chop, Liam was peeling shrimp for me on the side. He shouldn’t be this good to me; it makes it hard for me not to like him even more. 3 It was already past ten when we finished eating. When everyone was leaving, my brother told me to go home with him. Me: … Liam reached out and put his arm around me, “He’s coming home with me. I need to interrogate him about his girlfriend.” I didn’t dare to look up, so I just peeked at my brother from the corner of my eye. His face was green. His hair, which he had dyed blue before, had faded, and now it looked kind of yellowish-green too. Right now, I didn’t dare face my brother. As it stands, I kind of cuckolded him. Ahhh, his glare is so scary. I want to go home with Liam. Liam tightened his arm, spinning me around in a half-circle, “We’re leaving first.” Then, with his arm around my waist, he dragged me away. I was too submissive to make a sound, like a little lamb entering the tiger’s den. The designated driver drove the car, and Liam and I sat in the backseat. There was clearly a lot of space, but he insisted on squeezing me right against the door, his arm resting behind my head, draped over the headrest… It was clearly a three-person backseat, but the two of us were only taking up the space of one and a half people. I was practically plastered against the door. “Bro, can you move over a bit?” He grunted and moved slightly, but not by much. The driver left after pulling the car into the garage. I got out of the car but stood there, refusing to move. Liam looked at me and sneered, “What, are you waiting for me to carry you in, or sling you over my shoulder?” I shivered. Those actions were way too intimate. I was afraid my heart would skip a beat. “I’ll walk.” With that, I dragged my weak legs to the front door, extended my index finger, and the fingerprint lock opened instantly. Once inside, I shrank into a corner, not daring to move. Liam walked past me, took out my designated slippers, and placed them at my feet. The look in his eyes was a bit scary; I didn’t really want to go in. “Bro, it’s getting late. How about you hurry up, wash up, and go to sleep?” He leaned against the shoe cabinet and smiled, “Not a good idea.” He checked his watch, “I’ll give you ten minutes. Change your shoes, go up to the second floor, to my room, change your clothes, wash up, and then sit nicely and wait for me.” Me: … He really had my whole schedule planned out. I wanted to cry but had no tears, so I had to follow his instructions. I timed it; it took me twelve minutes. I casually grabbed a set of clothes from his closet, put them on, and then sat obediently on the bed waiting for him. When Liam came in, he had also changed his clothes. He must have washed up in the guest bathroom. He walked to the edge of the bed and ruffled my hair. I looked up and gave him a toothy grin. “Good boy.” With that, he picked up the remote from the bedside table and lowered the projector screen. I was confused, “It’s so late, are we still watching a movie?” He stood in front of me, reached out, and pinched my chin, “Come on, let’s settle the score.” “Huh? What score, bro? I didn’t do anything.” “When did you and your girlfriend start dating?” I blurted out, “Two months ago.” “Oh, two months~” “Yeah, two months.” I nodded, confirming my own lie. “Break up with her.” He leaned closer and closer to me. “Ah?” I scrambled backward until I was in the middle of the bed. “Don’t come any closer. Just stand there and say whatever you want to say.” “You being with her, is it a moral failing on your part, or a moral failing on hers? Which one of you do you think is the problem?” What kind of nonsense is this? It sounds like a tongue twister. I thought about it for five seconds and couldn’t figure it out, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” “Your brother started pursuing her half a year ago, and currently, the two of them are in an ambiguous stage. If she’s dating both of you at the same time, it means her character is flawed. I don’t mind letting the whole school know.” I pointed a finger at him, “Don’t mess around, there’s nothing wrong with her.” He instantly grabbed my hand and pulled. I fell straight into his chest. “If she doesn’t have a problem, then you’re the one with the problem.” I was dragged into his embrace and held tight, unable to break free. I struggled while arguing back, “What problem do I have? I don’t have a problem.” He chuckled twice, “You don’t have a problem? You like someone else, yet you’re dating a girl. And during your relationship, you kissed someone else. Do you still think you don’t have a problem?” I completely froze. What does he mean? How does he know I like someone? How does he know I kissed someone else? Then does he know who I like? I sat there dumbfounded, but he simply picked up the remote and pressed play. 4 When the video started playing, I was completely stupefied. He was playing a piece of security footage. In the footage, I was carrying a drunk Liam into the bedroom. I tried to snatch the remote from his hand. He casually tossed the remote into the corner of the sofa. “Liam, pause it.” He pinched my cheeks, the anger in his eyes practically overflowing. “You’re not even calling me ‘bro’ anymore. You know what happens next in this footage, right? I’ve watched it no less than twenty times. It’s no use refusing to watch it now. You’re going to watch the whole thing.” I was held firmly in his embrace, completely immobilized. He forced me to watch the video. In the video, I helped him drink water, wiped his body, covered him with a blanket, and babbled on about how much I liked him. Finally, I wanted to kiss him on the cheek, but after thinking about it for a few minutes, I took his hand and kissed his ring finger. I closed my eyes. It’s over. It’s all over. Everything is ruined. Liam actually knew. “Liking a guy but dating a girl, do you think you have any morals?” Hearing his questioning tone, my tears just started flowing. I felt so wronged. It’s bad enough that I like him and can’t say it, but now he’s scolding my character. “I don’t like guys, I just…” He turned me around, stared into my eyes, and asked, “You just what?” Things had reached a point of no return. I took a deep breath and said, “I don’t like guys, I just… like you, that’s all.” Now it was Liam’s turn to freeze. “I admit, I am immoral. I like you, I’m too immoral. But how could I say something like that out loud? With what happened today, we won’t even be friends anymore.” The more I cried, the sadder I got, eventually breaking into a loud wail. “How can you have security cameras? When did you install them? Even if you have them, why did you have to check them? And if you checked them, why did you have to watch? And if you watched, why did you have to make me watch? Do you know how awful I feel? Waaaaah~~~~~~” I wailed while rolling around on the bed. Liam watched in utter shock. Liam tried to pull me up, but I swatted him away with a slap. When I finally cried enough and vented my emotions, I quietly curled up in a corner of the bed, sobbing to myself. Liam: … Liam reached out to grab me, and I brushed him off. He tried to speak, and I covered my ears and howled. “Okay, okay, okay. Stop crying. You’re not going to listen to anything I say right now anyway, are you? Let’s just go to sleep, it’s too late. We’ll talk about the rest tomorrow.” With that, he lay down beside me. Maybe I was just tired from howling. Carrying a heart full of sorrow, I actually fell asleep within a few minutes. Early the next morning, when I woke up, I didn’t dare to move an inch. Because I was being held by Liam. This is getting ambiguous, bro. I slowly slid out of his embrace, changed into my own clothes, and basically executed a grand escape. Given the situation last night, he clearly wanted to warn me not to harbor any more feelings for him or whatever. Pfft. Whatever, the damage is already done. From now on, Liam and I will go our separate ways. He takes the high road, and I’ll take the low road. I’m never thinking about him again. There are so many guys out there. I refuse to hang myself on his lush, flourishing, giant tree of a self. 5 After getting back to school, I quickly found Chloe. She came out right after washing her face, looking exhausted. “What happened to you? Why are you so tired? What were you doing?” Chloe slumped on the table, “Your brother called me, sent WeChat messages, asking what was going on. He kept me up for an hour.” “Did you tell my brother?” Chloe rolled her eyes at me, “I didn’t even know how you were going to handle things on your end, so I didn’t tell him the truth. I kept changing the subject, but he just kept asking and asking, and I…” I asked nervously, “What did you do?” “I blocked your brother.” Me: … “Let’s put your brother aside for now. Why did you look for me so early?” I stammered out the events of last night to her. Chloe looked shocked, her mouth hanging open as she listened to my story. “Bro, I wouldn’t even dare write a script like this. If it’s really like that, aren’t you guys done? This is a bad ending.” I slumped on the table, “If it’s a bad ending, then it’s a bad ending. There are so many guys out there, there’s bound to be someone who likes me.” Hearing this, Chloe leaned forward, “Upperclassman, I know a few guys. Should I introduce you? They’re all from the acting department, super handsome. There was originally one who was adorably handsome, but unfortunately, you’re too late, he already has a husband.” “But!” She spread her hands in front of me, “I have several good guys on hand, top-tier quality, and their character is also great. The main thing is that their orientation aligns with yours. Want to consider?” I remained silent. Seeing I wasn’t speaking, she continued, “A so-called breakup is just a transitional period. The guys I’m introducing to you are really, really good. You can try interacting with them. Who knows, fate might just arrive! Just treat it as me introducing you to a new friend.” That actually makes some sense. “Alright then!” Chloe chuckled a few times and took out her phone. “I’ll send you their WeChat contacts. I’ll introduce you to the first one, named Noah. He’s the highest quality one, and now that I think about it, he actually looks a bit like the guy you like. If you guys don’t work out, I’ll introduce you to the others. But let’s be clear upfront, no treating him as a stand-in. Noah is a really good guy.” I lay paralyzed on the table, unmoving, just raising an arm to flash her an ‘OK’ sign. 6 I didn’t expect to meet Noah so soon. While I was walking Chloe back to her dorm, we bumped right into Noah halfway there. Chloe clapped her hands, “What is this? This is destiny.” Handsome, truly handsome. He was only slightly less handsome than Liam. Liam too, why does he have to be so good-looking? A sucker for good looks like me… Sigh, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. “Hello~” Noah said with a smile. “Hello~” I replied with a smile. Chloe stood aside, smiling at the two of us. “I’m heading to our family’s restaurant for a tasting. If you guys aren’t busy, want to come with?” Chloe glanced at me, “Sure, let’s go together then. Alex, his family runs a seafood buffet. If you’re free, let’s all go.” Hmm, sounds good. I haven’t even had breakfast anyway, and I’m a bit hungry. But, a seafood buffet must be really expensive, right? I’ll just transfer the money to him after we eat. Seeming to notice my hesitation, Noah spoke up, “Don’t overthink it. Mainly, we have new dishes now and need people to taste them. Having two more people to taste and offer suggestions helps them improve. It’s not really a formal meal.” Chloe chimed in, “Noah always invites us to tastings. Sometimes, if we give good suggestions, his dad even rewards us with dining vouchers.” Oh, is that so? Then I won’t hold back.

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Because I couldn’t be bothered to talk, I made everyone think I was mute. The school’s bad boy thought I was incapable of speech. Every day, he’d tell me about the pain his family caused him. I listened to him babble on, annoyed beyond belief. So one day, I beat the crap out of all the debt collectors looking for him, leaving them half dead. Then I turned around and grabbed him by the throat. “You little mute, you…” “Shut up.” I kissed his lips. Ignoring the emotions in his eyes. A stray dog without an owner. I’m taking him home. 1 The first time I met Arthur was in the school counselor’s office. I was sleeping on a bed behind a curtain. He had just driven the counselor away in a fit of rage, then started flipping through his own file. “Arthur, eighteen years old, violent tendencies, lacks empathy, absent family upbringing…” Arthur read the description of himself from the file while yawning. “What is this nonsense?” He laughed at his own file, then said: “I’m a very kind-hearted good guy.” I kept my eyes closed, remembering what the counselor had just said: he instigated a group fight and then ran away himself. What a “good guy.” I don’t know if anyone ever taught Arthur that disturbing someone’s sleep without permission is very rude. Anyway, when he pulled open the curtain next to me, I didn’t open my eyes. Five seconds later— “Stop faking it. Why pretend to sleep when you’re clearly awake?” I opened my eyes, and Arthur’s distinct, handsome, yet infuriating eyes looked straight at me. I didn’t say anything. “What? Faking sleep isn’t enough, now you’re faking being mute?” I pinched my thumb and index finger together and moved them from one side of my mouth to the other. It meant: Zip it. Arthur froze for a second: “Sign language? You really are mute?” I reached out and tapped the file he was holding. My information was in there too. “Chloe, eighteen years old, speech impairment, introverted, antisocial personality, low desire to communicate.” Arthur put down the file and looked back at me: “So you really are a pitiful little thing.” Let him think whatever he wants. I closed my eyes again. I pretend to be mute precisely to avoid interacting with idiots like this. “Hey, why did you close your eyes again? You haven’t told me what that sign language meant.” I rolled over, turning my back to him. Even without sign language, that action clearly conveyed my meaning. Piss off. … 2 If I had known from the start how annoying Arthur was. I might have actually graced him with an explanation on the very first day we met. The next day, out of habit, I pulled open the curtain in the counselor’s office. And froze when I saw the person lying on the bed. Arthur acted as if he had been waiting for me for a long time. He propped his head up, lying on his side, and waved when he saw me: “Oh, little mute, we meet again.” I ruthlessly yanked the curtain shut again. The third day. The fourth day. The fifth day… By the seventh time I saw Arthur smiling and waving at me, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed him by the collar, raw anger in my eyes. He twisted my arm and pinned my hand down, still smiling: “Don’t be mad. If you tell me what that sign meant the other day, I won’t fight you for the bed anymore.” After two years, I pulled out my phone again to explain the meaning of a sign to another human being. Arthur looked at the two words I typed out, “Zip it,” and fell deep into thought. “The little mute has a pretty fiery temper, huh? Just like this…” He pulled out a picture of a Jalapeño pepper from Plants vs. Zombies to show me. … For the next two days, Arthur didn’t steal my spot again. Just as I was thinking my days could finally return to normal, Arthur was called into the counselor’s office once more. “Arthur, I hope you can hold some goodwill towards this world instead of blindly using violence to solve problems. Violence is never the most effective solution.” Arthur’s lazy voice sounded: “Doctor, you’re overthinking it. It was just self-defense.” “Self-defense?” The counselor’s tone was laced with obvious disbelief. “Arthur, I’ve seen too many students like you. In reality, most people use self-defense as an excuse to minimize their actions. But ask yourself honestly, weren’t you the one who actually provoked the incident?” Arthur laughed softly: “It’s really strange. How did someone like you, who thinks so highly of himself, become a psychological counselor? Is the school really that desperate?” 3 The counselor slammed the door and left. Arthur pulled open the curtain next to me: “Little mute, you heard all that, right?” I plugged my ears. Arthur crouched down and pulled one of my hands away from my ear: “Alright, stop faking. Make some room for me?” I opened my eyes. It was only then that I noticed the cut on the corner of his mouth. Arthur stood up and got onto the bed, but how could that poor, tiny bed fit two well-developed teenagers? The bedboards creaked loudly. Just as I was contemplating how to kick him off. The door to the counselor’s office opened. The counselor, holding a thermos, froze in place when he saw the position we were in. And just like that, both Arthur and I were banned from entering the counselor’s office again. I walked up to the roof, and Arthur followed right behind me. Until I turned around and gave him the sign for “get lost.” “That means… you want me to leave?” I looked at him and sneered internally. Reality is far crueler than you imagine, idiot. Seeing I didn’t say anything, his intuition told him he guessed right, so he said: “Little mute, I was misunderstood. I need comforting.” Looking at his smiling face, I always felt he wasn’t asking for comfort. He was asking for a slap. I wouldn’t give him what he wanted. So, I patted him on the head like I was petting a dog. Arthur’s facial expression went blank for a second. But very quickly, he resumed his smile. “Do you come to the roof often?” I didn’t answer, raising my hand to open the roof door. It was locked. I frowned, and before I could react. Arthur pressed up behind me. He leaned against my back, reaching forward with a key in his hand. With a click, the door unlocked. Arthur’s smiling voice sounded from behind me: “After you, little mute.” 4 Arthur gave the key to me. “It’s my fault you can’t sleep in the counselor’s office anymore. You can hang out here from now on.” I typed on my phone and showed him: 【Will you come?】 “Do you want to see me?” He leaned down to look at me. I typed: 【Forget it if you’re coming.】 … Arthur broke his promise to come less often. Out of seven days, he came five times. He even brought his test papers and candy with him every time. Probably because we knew each other now, I started running into him frequently. Sometimes I’d see him staring blankly out the window, sometimes feeding stray cats, sometimes getting confessed to. Arthur was popular with both guys and girls, but his answer was always the same: “Wake up, we’re at the age where we should be studying.” A guy who looked like a total slacker loved advising others to study. What a fake. “Little mute, want some candy?” I was leaning back against the wall, my hands behind my head, eyes closed. I didn’t say anything, just opened my mouth slightly. The next second, an orange-flavored candy was popped into my mouth. But following it were fingertips. I opened my eyes and looked sharply at Arthur. He had already pulled his hand back, looking as if he hadn’t expected me to lick his fingers. I had gotten used to Arthur feeding me candy, mostly because rejecting him was too much trouble, but it had always been lollipops. So this was the first time this happened. His Adam’s apple bobbed: “That…” I looked at the fresh scratches on his face, took a deep breath, and looked away. I’ll spare your life. Because I looked away again, I missed seeing Arthur staring blankly at the finger I had just licked. 5 The more time we spent together, the more Arthur talked. The day he talked the most was the day he got beaten the worst. The sky was nearing dusk, and other students had gradually left after school. I took off my headphones and just opened my eyes. The roof door opened. His usually clean school uniform was covered in mud and dirt, his hair was a mess, and his face was covered in large and small cuts. Great, a face that could easily have been the school’s heartthrob was now barely fit for a host club. He walked up to me holding a bag of medicine, smiling a very ugly smile: “Little mute, help me put some medicine on?” When I saw the shocking wounds on his back, I furrowed my brow. Arthur seemed to feel he should explain, so he said: “This is from fighting for the position of mafia boss…” I pressed the cotton swab hard into his wound. “Hiss…” He drew a sharp breath of cold air and quickly changed his tune: “It was from debt collectors.” I switched to a new cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, and applied it to his wound. “But they aren’t my debts. I’m an upstanding young citizen.” Still joking around even when talking about serious things. I couldn’t be bothered to respond. “It’s debt my dad owes.” Arthur seemed to find the situation a bit awkward. He felt his pockets; no more candy. Then he checked another pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He stared at it for a while, then put it back. Then he pulled it out again. I snatched the cigarettes from him and tossed them into the trash can. He froze for a moment, then suddenly started laughing. Listening to his laughter, I thought he had been beaten crazy. “My mom was trafficked. After I was born, she ran away. When I was 13, my dad racked up a bunch of gambling debts and ran away too.” The setting sun cast a glow on half his face. The blood had long dried. I listened quietly, my hands never stopping the application of medicine. “But I’m lucky. My grandma came looking for me. She gave me a sum of money. It wasn’t enough to pay the debts, but it’s enough for me to finish college.” I’ve never seen someone live like this and still say they were “lucky.” But I wasn’t interested in what he was saying. I just thought it was incredibly rare that someone like him hadn’t turned into a scumbag out for revenge against society. After all, living like this, there was no hope to be seen. 6 After bandaging the wounds on his back, he turned his face toward me. I wiped the dried blood off his face, then applied ointment. As I rubbed the ointment in circles around the corner of his mouth, he stared at me, completely motionless. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pressed a clean finger against his lips, then slipped it inside. Arthur opened his mouth, looking like he was about to suck my finger in. But I pulled it out. Looking at his thoroughly red ears, I remained expressionless, but my stomach was doing flip-flops. I knew I shouldn’t hang out with idiots all the time. Now look what happened. I’ve become an idiot too. Since that day, the dynamic between Arthur and me became subtle. Simply put, Arthur started initiating physical contact with me frequently. Feeding me candy involved touching my lips, leaving together meant he’d grab my wrist, and sometimes when he was half-asleep doing test papers, he’d rest his head on my shoulder. Of course, I knew he wasn’t actually sleeping. Purely faking it. I had threatened him, but it was also true that he didn’t listen at all. And because he was badly injured that day, rumors flew around the school the next day. Even someone like me, who slept on their desk during class, heard the students in front of me discussing him when I woke up. “He definitely got into a fight again. After all, right after school started, he fought a dozen thugs and beat them all down.” “Oh my god, so that was true! I always thought it was just a rumor…” “How could it be a rumor? If it were, would everyone in school be so afraid of him? They even crowned him the school boss.” It made sense. I nodded, then kicked the chair of the student in front of me. The two of them turned around, and I gave them the sign for “quiet.” This was the sign I used most frequently with them. So, after turning back around, they consciously kept quiet. I looked out the window, a question surfacing in my mind. Are debt collectors really that good at fighting?

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