Category: English

1 During the New Year celebrations, I found myself at a college reunion with my husband, Joey. After a few rounds of drinks, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Joey was the first to pick a “Truth” card. “What’s your biggest regret in love?” He answered without hesitation, his eyes darting toward Valerie, his college sweetheart, who was sitting nearby. “Not ending up with the person I truly loved. Instead, I settled for a backup, just making do with my wife.” The room erupted in whispers. Everyone expected me to storm out, but I simply smiled and motioned for the game to continue. When it was my turn, the question was: “Is there anything you’ve kept from your partner in your relationship?” “Yes.” “What is it?” “I have a seven-year-old son I’m raising outside our home.” … A profound silence fell over the private room. Joey, who had been heavily intoxicated, instantly sobered up. He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. Our class president quickly tried to smooth things over. “Willow, you must be drunk. You can’t just say things like that!” “He’s right,” another classmate chimed in. “Joey was just joking. You can’t get angry and make a joke like that. It’s too hurtful!” The friend beside me laughed, patting my shoulder, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere. I raised my glass, drained it in one go, and leaned back slowly in my chair. “I’m not joking.” “We’ve been married for seven years. Every time Joey gets drunk, he calls out Valerie’s name. When he’s intimate with me, he calls out her name. Even the little digital chick in his game is named ‘Valerie, my darling.’ We’ve been living separate lives under the same roof for so long. Is it really so unreasonable for me to have a son outside our home?” My bombshell revelations stunned everyone. Joey and Valerie exchanged uneasy glances, their faces ashen. But Joey, who always cared deeply about appearances, wouldn’t tolerate me airing his dirty laundry. He slammed his hand on the table. “Willow Sterling, if you’re drunk, go home! Don’t make a scene here!” he roared. “I merely expressed a regret in my heart. Even if you’re jealous, you don’t need to retaliate like this!” Jealous? I’d had enough of being jealous for the past seven years! If he was still pining for Valerie, then I would help these two unfaithful lovers achieve their destiny! I stared at Joey’s captivating face, and the more I looked, the more disgusted I felt. “Retaliate? What I said was nothing but the truth!” I shot back. “Your favoritism toward Valerie goes far beyond what I’ve said. Do you dare to make everything public?” My aggressive tone ratcheted up the tension in the room again. Valerie, seeing the situation escalating, quickly came over with her drink, trying to mediate. “Willow, we’re all old friends. This reunion is just a chance to reminisce about the past. Why are you getting so angry?” she said softly. “Besides, Joey and I are ancient history. I’ve been living abroad for years. Joey was just trying to amuse me.” She extended her glass to me. “I’ll toast you as an apology. Don’t let me ruin your relationship.” I swatted her hand away. “What right do you have to toast me? Let me tell you…” “Willow Sterling, that’s enough!” Before I could finish, Joey sprang to his feet. He wiped the wine splashed on his face, his eyes burning with fury. “You say I’m still hung up on Valerie? Yes, I admit it!” he bellowed. “But what kind of saint are you? Haven’t you also cheated on me, even having a child?!” He pointed at me, his voice sharp and accusatory. “You say I don’t dare to make my history with Valerie public? Fine! Then let’s turn this Truth or Dare into a full-blown confession game!” His eyes gleamed with a desperate challenge. “Whoever breaks down and leaves first, loses everything in the divorce. Do you dare?” A faint smile touched my lips. “Gladly.” Even though I knew Joey and Valerie had been entangled for years, even though I had already decided to divorce him after the holidays, I still wanted to hear him admit those truths himself. Not for anything else, but to bring closure to the seven years I had poured into this love. This confession game, with its high-stakes wager, I would play to the bitter end. 2 The game continued. Joey wasted no time, dropping a bombshell immediately. “The night I proposed to you, Valerie and I went to a hotel.” He paused, then added, “We spent the entire night together. No protection.” The words hung in the air, heavy and solid, freezing the room. No one spoke, their gazes shifting to me, filled with pity. “Joey, isn’t that a bit much?” someone ventured. “Starting with such a big revelation, can Willow really handle it?” Valerie tugged at Joey’s sleeve, feigning concern, but her tone betrayed a hint of smugness. Joey waved them off dismissively. “What’s the big deal?” he scoffed. “Starting with a bang is just to prepare her. I don’t want her heart giving out after a couple of rounds.” I offered a faint smile, my inner world surprisingly calm. “I already knew.” “Because seven years ago, when you and she were together, I was in the room right next door.” “With another man.” The night he proposed, I had received a call from Valerie’s boyfriend, Marcus. He and I had stood with our ears pressed to the wall, listening to them make love all night. Marcus had wanted to burst in and catch them in the act countless times, but I had stopped him. Because I was desperately, completely in love with Joey. I told myself it was just a farewell tryst, that after this, they would sever all ties. But time had proven that, for seven years, it had been nothing but my wishful thinking. “Willow Sterling, you think that’s enough to make me angry?” Joey lit a cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke directly into my face. “Did you know that after that night, Valerie got pregnant?” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “And I even told her to keep the child.” At that, the room absolutely exploded. My classmates were reeling from the relentless bombshells, whispering frantically amongst themselves. “Holy cow, this isn’t a confession game, it’s a bloodbath!” “Poor Willow Sterling! Married for seven years only to find out her husband cheated with his first love and had a love child outside the marriage!” “Pfft, what’s so pitiful about it? She knew seven years ago and still stayed. Isn’t that just pure masochism?” “Exactly! She cheated and had a kid too, right? I’d say these two are two sides of the same coin. Neither of them is any good!” I ignored their chatter, waving away the choking smoke. “I knew that too.” “Her prenatal reports were hidden in the coat she gave you. Oceanside General Hospital. She went three times.” Joey and Valerie’s faces visibly darkened. He had expected that revelation to shatter me. He had anticipated shouting, tears, maybe even me flipping the table and storming out. But he hadn’t expected this—I hadn’t given him the satisfaction of seeing me break. Seeing his stunned silence, I twisted the knife a little further. “But there’s one question I’ve always wanted to ask you.” “Where is that child now?” 3 Joey was silent for a moment, then laughed. “What does it matter to you? It’s not your child. What right do you have to ask?” Of course, I knew Joey wouldn’t tell me. Or rather, I knew he wouldn’t dare to tell me. Back then, to care for a pregnant Valerie, he had concocted an elaborate lie about the company needing to send him away for training. Because of that, I had postponed our wedding for an entire year. And after we were married, he had kept the secret of his illegitimate child exceptionally well. If I hadn’t accidentally found the prenatal reports while cleaning out his closet, I might have remained in the dark forever. I forced back the nausea rising in my throat and let out a cold laugh. “Indeed, I have no right.” “I’m just worried you might have secretly gotten rid of the child to keep me from finding out.” My voice was light, almost conversational. “After all, it’s a life. If it were simply discarded…” “Willow Sterling, are you ever going to shut up?!” Joey’s face was flushed crimson, the suave gentleman facade completely gone. “Are you doing this just to embarrass me? Are you purposefully bringing up the past at a class reunion to tear me down?” He slammed his hand on the table, his voice thick with rage. “Since you’re so intent on cutting ties, why don’t we raise the stakes? Truth is boring. Dare? Do you dare?” I crossed my legs, propped my chin on my hand, and looked at him with an amused smirk. “No problem. Whatever you want to do today, I’m here for it.” He didn’t waste another word, simply motioning for the class president to draw a card. The president, unable to refuse, reached into the box. A moment later, a slip of paper lay unfolded on the table: [French kiss the person you love most for three minutes.] Joey let out a soft chuckle, pulling Valerie into his arms, his strong, articulate fingers tracing patterns on her back. “Willow Sterling, I honestly didn’t realize you knew about my affair and still tolerated me for so long.” His eyes held a challenging glint. “You seem to enjoy watching Valerie and me. How about I put on a little show for you? What do you think?” Before he could even finish speaking, the class president quickly intervened. “Joey, that’s enough. This is a class reunion, for goodness sake. Have some respect for Willow.” The other classmates quickly joined in, trying to stop Joey. “He’s right, Joey. Willow might have gone too far, but you can’t do this in front of her. It’s too humiliating!” “Joey, listen to us. Leave some room for reconciliation. After all, you and Willow are still married. You still have to live together, right?” Joey’s expression hardened, becoming savage. “Leave room?” he sneered. “Get this straight: Willow Sterling cheated too! She even has a seven-year-old son! Neither of us is clean!” His gaze turned to me, filled with utter contempt. “Living with a woman like that? I find it repulsive.” With that, he directly kissed Valerie’s lips. The defiant glint in his eyes and the passionate, open-mouthed kiss exploded before me simultaneously. I knew he was waiting for me to break. But I remained seated, unmoving, not even bothering to flutter an eyelid. I knew Joey too well. He was always one to hold a grudge and seek revenge. I had publicly exposed his affair, making him lose face in front of so many people. There was no way he would just let it go. Moreover, in his eyes, I was nothing more than a cheating woman. Since neither of us was “clean,” he naturally felt he had nothing to lose. Three minutes later, they reluctantly broke apart. Joey gently wiped Valerie’s lipstick from the corner of his mouth, then looked down at me, a condescending smirk on his face. “So, did you break? If you can’t handle it, you can always leave. But all the assets will be mine in the divorce. What’s it going to be?” I merely smiled and gestured for the game to continue. The class president pondered for a few seconds, then reached into the box again. [Your dare will be chosen by the first person of the opposite sex beside you.] The first person of the opposite sex beside me was Joey. He shot me a cunning smile and delivered my dare: “Bring the son you’re raising outside our home. I want to see him!” 4 I froze for a few seconds, then gently shook my head. “I can’t do that. Pick another dare.” But Joey had no intention of letting me off the hook. He pressed on relentlessly. “I’m not changing it. I want you to do this dare. What, are you chickening out?” He leaned back, his eyes mocking. “I’m warning you, if you back out and leave, you’ll walk away with nothing.” I remained stubborn in my refusal. “What’s between us has nothing to do with this child. I swore that I wouldn’t bring him out until he’s an adult.” The situation reached a stalemate. Just then, Valerie suddenly rose, tugging at my sleeve. “Willow, don’t be so petty when you’re out having fun. Just bring the child out so we can meet him.” She batted her eyelashes, her voice laced with false sweetness. “I promise, Joey won’t hold your cheating against the child. Maybe he’ll even grow to like him, and you can bring him home openly to raise him, especially since Joey lost his fertility…” She stopped abruptly. I turned my head, my gaze chillingly cold. “Go on, why did you stop?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence. “Afraid everyone will know Joey is impotent, and it will embarrass him?” Joey and Valerie’s excessive intimacy, their weekly twenty-plus encounters, had long ago rendered him impotent. It was thanks to them that in seven years of marriage, we had never had a child of our own. Seeing his deepest secret exposed once again, Joey could no longer contain his fury. “Willow Sterling, if you can’t handle it, then leave! There’s no need to use these things to provoke me!” I looked at his familiar yet alien face and nodded calmly. “If you’re breaking, you can choose to leave.” Joey froze for a split second, then doubled over with laughter. “Me? Break?” he roared. “I’ll break over this pathetic mess? I love sleeping with Valerie, even if I’m impotent, I’d still do it!” He paused, his eyes raking over me with disdain. “Unlike you… I wouldn’t be interested even if you were naked.” Truthfully, I couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer. Joey’s nonchalant attitude truly made me sick to my stomach. He was the one who cheated first, but the way he spoke, it made it seem like I was the unreasonable one. Seeing the situation spinning further out of control, Valerie quickly grabbed my arm, attempting to mollify me. “Sister Willow, it’s just a small matter, no need to overreact,” she said, her voice cloying. “You’d be hard-pressed to find a man as good as Joey. Give me a break; just overlook Joey’s past mistakes. Men will be men, right? Don’t you agree?” I turned to her, a faint smile playing on my lips. “So, I should be magnanimous, forgive his affair, forgive him for having a child with you, forgive him for still pining for you—is that it?” She nodded, still smiling. “Exactly! What’s a little indiscretion? For a happy life, you have to turn a blind eye. Just apologize to Joey, and this whole thing…” I raised my hand and slapped her across the face, then pointed to the wedding ring on my finger. “You’d better get this straight: until I’m divorced, you are the other woman.” My voice was a low, dangerous growl. “What right do you, a homewrecker, have to tell me what to do? My and Joey’s private matters are none of your business.” The private room fell into a terrifying silence. Everyone was stunned by my sudden outburst. The next second, a similarly crisp slap landed on my own face. “Apologize to Valerie,” Joey said, his voice cold and hard. “You can leave if you’re upset, but you can’t use violence to vent your anger. If you don’t apologize today, I’ll hire the best lawyer to sue you for marital infidelity, and you’ll still walk away with nothing.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. I had loved this man for seven years, endured seven years of his infidelity. In the end, he had never once thought of apologizing to me. Instead, his sole focus was to make me leave with nothing. I had wanted to preserve some dignity for both of us, but he and Valerie had pushed me too far. Since he wouldn’t let me end things amicably, I had no choice but to flip the table. “You say I cheated. Do you have proof?” He sneered, pointing to everyone in the room. “You yourself admitted you have a seven-year-old son. Everyone heard it. What, now you want to deny it? Too late!” As soon as he finished speaking, the classmates nodded in unison. “Willow, I know you’re angry, but Joey’s infidelity was at most emotional. You, however, had a physical affair. The fault lies with you.” “That’s right, Willow. Just apologize to Joey. Don’t let a game at a reunion ruin your entire life.” I ignored them and pulled out my phone, dialing my driver. “Bring little Ethan to my room.” Then, I looked up, meeting everyone’s gaze. “I believe you’ve all forgotten one thing.” “I only said I have a son. I never said he was my biological child.” A chilling smile played on my lips. “Since you all believe I’m the one at fault, then today, I’m going to reveal all the long-buried secrets!”

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For three years, my wife, Seraphina, pretended to be paralyzed, confined to a wheelchair. The night the yacht caught fire, a burning beam came crashing down, shattering my leg. I screamed her name, a raw, desperate plea for help. She watched me from her wheelchair, her expression a cold, distant mask. “You’re too far,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “I can’t get to you. You’ll have to crawl.” But a moment later, her childhood sweetheart, Flynn, lost his footing and plunged into the sea. In a flash, Seraphina was on her feet. She shot up from her chair, sprinting to the edge of the deck with an agility I hadn’t seen in years and diving headfirst into the black, churning water. Trapped by the flames, my leg was burned beyond recognition. My mind was starved of oxygen, leaving me with the intellect of a six-year-old, forever. Three years later, after a frantic, world-spanning search, Seraphina found me again. I was on a street corner, begging for scraps. She fell to her knees before me, her eyes bloodshot and brimming with tears. “To hide from me, you let yourself fall this far? Asher, was it worth it?” I tilted my head, studying the strange woman. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a piece of candy, and offered it to her. “Ma’am, your legs are fine. Why are you kneeling like me?” I asked. “Are you trying to learn how to beg? I only have one piece of candy left. You can have it.” 1 Seraphina didn’t take my candy. “Asher, how long are you going to keep up this act?” she demanded, her voice sharp and loud. I flinched, instinctively clutching the battered bowl in my lap. There were a few coins inside—enough for tonight’s dinner. I couldn’t let her take it. My silence only seemed to fuel her anger. She grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. “Ow! You’re mean! Stop hurting me!” I burst into tears, the pain sharp and sudden. But even as I cried, my other hand held tight to the single piece of candy. Lily had given it to me this morning as a reward for not wetting the bed last night. The word “ma’am” seemed to curdle her expression. “Playing the fool!” She sneered, her eyes fixing on my clenched fist. She must have thought I was hiding something valuable. She pried my fingers open, one by one. Lying in my palm was a single hard candy, slightly melted and flecked with dust. Seraphina froze for a second, then a wave of profound disgust washed over her face. “You’re doing all this… for this?” She snatched the candy from my hand and threw it to the ground. Her stiletto heel ground it into the pavement, once, twice. “No!” I shrieked. That was my candy. A surge of strength I didn’t know I possessed coursed through me. I tore free from her grasp and fell to my knees on the sidewalk. I scrambled, my fingers frantically scraping at the sugary dust trapped in the cracks. It was so dirty. But it was so sweet. I shoved the mixture of dirt, grit, and candy dust into my mouth, tears and snot streaming down my face. “Sweet… it’s sweet…” A crowd was gathering, some people filming with their phones. My actions seemed to enrage Seraphina even more. She grabbed the collar of my shirt and hauled me to my feet, dangling me like a stray cat. “Asher! Have you no shame? Are you even a man anymore?!” I ignored her, my tear-filled eyes fixed on the sugary smear on the ground. “Give it back… Ma’am, give me back my candy…” Seraphina’s jaw was clenched tight. She dragged me across the sidewalk and shoved me into a sleek, black luxury car parked at the curb. I banged on the window, watching my little bowl, abandoned and alone on the pavement. “Money! My money!” I cried out. “Lily will go hungry!” Seraphina locked the doors and ordered the driver to go. She turned to me, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it felt like a physical blow. “It would be for the best if that little stray starved to death,” she hissed. “Asher, since you love acting so much, I’m taking you back to the one place you tried so desperately to escape. You can perform there until you drop dead.” 2 The car pulled into the driveway of a massive house. It felt a little familiar, but I was too scared to remember why. The walls were too white, like a hospital. The lights too bright, like flames. The household staff lined the entrance, pinching their noses at the sight of my filth-caked clothes. Seraphina dumped me onto the plush living room carpet. “Get him cleaned up,” she ordered. “And don’t let him ruin my carpets.” A couple of burly housekeepers came over and roughly dragged me toward a bathroom. A faucet was turned on. Hissing steam and scalding water erupted from the showerhead. “Ah!” I screamed, scrambling into the corner. “Fire! It’s fire! Don’t burn me!” The hot water on my skin felt just like the licks of flame on the yacht that night. I curled into a ball, hugging my head, my body wracked with tremors, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Sir, please stop pretending,” one of them said, grabbing me impatiently. “It’s just water.” I thrashed wildly, my nails digging into his arm and drawing blood. SMACK! He backhanded me across the face. “You lunatic!” When Seraphina burst in, I was huddled in the corner of the tub, a shivering, pathetic mess. They had stripped my clothes off, exposing the grotesque tapestry of scar tissue that covered my back—a twisted, gnarled mass like the roots of an ancient tree. Seraphina’s pupils contracted violently. She raised a hand as if to touch the scars, but stopped halfway, letting it hang in the air. “You really committed to the role, didn’t you?” she bit out, her voice a strange mix of sarcasm and something else I couldn’t place. “All for a bit of theatre.” “Sera?” a smooth male voice called from the doorway. Flynn walked in, dressed in a pristine, bespoke suit. He looked like a prince from a fairytale. And I was a rat from the gutter. Flynn’s eyes widened in disgust at the sight of my back, but he quickly masked it with a look of concern. “Asher, what happened to you? Sera is just trying to help. You shouldn’t have hurt the staff.” I caught a whiff of his cologne. I sneezed and pointed at him. “Mister, you smell weird.” Flynn’s smile faltered, his face tightening for a moment. Seraphina immediately stepped in front of him, shielding him as she glared at me. “Asher, apologize to Flynn. Now!” I didn’t understand. He was the one who smelled weird. Why did I have to apologize? I stubbornly pressed my lips together and said nothing. Seraphina’s patience snapped. She strode to a closet and pulled out a box. Inside was a pair of black leather dress shoes. Three years ago, they had been my most prized possession. Now, the sight of them made my leg throb with a phantom ache. The memory of shattered bone screamed in my mind. “You always loved these shoes, didn’t you?” Seraphina tossed them in front of me. “Put them on. I want to see you wear them.” “No… I won’t wear them…” I shook my head frantically, trying to back away. “Leg hurts… fire… don’t burn me…” She took this as defiance. “You won’t wear them?” A cruel smile touched her lips. She picked up the shoes and walked to the fireplace, where a low fire was burning. “If you won’t wear them now, then you’ll never wear them again!” She let them drop. The flames instantly devoured the expensive leather. “No!” Watching the fire, something inside my head snapped. The fire. The yacht. The broken leg. The terror finally broke me. A warm, shameful puddle spread across the floor as the stench of urine filled the air. Flynn gasped, covering his nose in disgust. Seraphina stared at the puddle on her pristine floor, her face turning to stone. And in that moment, she finally seemed to understand. The man who had once stood as proud and graceful as a swan… Asher… was truly broken. 3 Seraphina locked me in a room and forbade me from leaving. But my stomach rumbled, a hollow, aching sound. I missed the simple piece of bread Lily would buy for me. That evening, the mansion was alive with noise and laughter. Seraphina was hosting a family dinner. A servant brought me downstairs and pushed me into a chair at the dining table. The table was laden with incredible food, but I was too scared to touch anything. Seraphina sat at the head of the table, with Flynn beside her, looking for all the world like the man of the house. “Go on, eat,” Seraphina said, her gaze cold. “Aren’t you hungry?” I looked at the steak on my plate. It was rare, bleeding onto the porcelain. I was afraid of blood. I shook my head, my eyes drawn to a small piece of cake in front of Flynn. It looked so sweet. Flynn noticed me staring. He smiled and pushed the plate toward me. “Go ahead, Asher. Don’t be shy. Help yourself.” I gulped, my mouth watering, and slowly reached for it. Just as my fingers brushed the edge of the plate, a searing pain shot through my inner thigh. Under the table, Flynn’s hand had clamped onto my leg, his fingers digging in with vicious force. It was a dead man’s grip. “Ah!” My hand jerked back in pain. The plate tipped over, sending the cake tumbling onto Flynn’s white trousers, smearing cream all over the expensive fabric. “My suit!” Flynn roared in faux outrage. “Asher, if you didn’t want it, you could have just said so! Why did you have to ruin my clothes?” His voice cracked with feigned hurt. “Sera gave this to me! It’s a limited edition!” Seraphina slammed her hands on the table and shot to her feet. “Asher!” she raged, her eyes boring into me. “Is your jealousy really so pathetic? You can’t even stand the sight of a new suit?” Terrified, I scrambled under the table, hugging my head and trembling. “I didn’t… The mean mister pinched me… it hurts…” Seraphina didn’t believe a word. “Get out from under there!” she commanded. “Get out here and eat that cake off the floor!” I didn’t want to come out, but I was more afraid of being hit. I crawled out and knelt on the carpet, reaching for the cream-smeared mess. Beside me, Flynn pretended to dab at his trousers. His polished leather shoe discreetly crushed a fallen glass, grinding the shards into the creamy pile on the floor. I didn’t see it. I just knew I had to obey if I wanted to eat. I scooped up a handful of cake. Sharp slivers of glass dug into my palm, and blood began to well up, bright red against the white cream. “Waaah!” I howled in pain, holding up my bleeding hand for Seraphina to see. “Ma’am, it hurts… It’s bleeding…” The blood dripped onto the white carpet, a series of stark, shocking crimson dots. Seraphina’s breath hitched, her heart lurching in her chest. She instinctively moved to stand. But then Flynn clutched his chest dramatically. “Sera, my heart… I feel so tight… I think the shock…” Seraphina froze. She looked from Flynn’s pained expression to my blood-soaked hand. Finally, she turned away, her heart hardening once more. “Take him downstairs.” “No bandages. And no food.” “Let him learn his lesson.” 4 The basement was dark. There were no windows, only the faint scratching and squeaking of mice. I huddled in a corner, licking the wound on my hand. The blood had dried into a sticky, metallic crust. I was so hungry. I missed my sister, Lily. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from outside. BANG! The iron door rattled in its frame as someone kicked it. It was followed by the angry shouts of guards and the sounds of a struggle. “Get out of my way! Let me in!” That voice… it was Lily! My head shot up, a flicker of light in my eyes. “Sister!” I stumbled toward the door, tripping over my own feet. The door burst open. Lily stood there, brandishing a blood-stained iron pipe. She was covered in scrapes and bruises, her clothes torn, but her eyes blazed with a terrifying fire. “Asher!” Her gaze fell on my bloody hand, and her eyes instantly turned red. “Those bastards!” She threw the pipe aside and rushed to me, pulling me into a fierce hug. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to take you home.” Her embrace was warm. It smelled faintly of stale bread, but it was the safest smell in the world. But we couldn’t leave. Seraphina blocked the doorway, flanked by more guards. She was dressed in a silk robe, looking down on us like a queen surveying her filthiest subjects. “So this is your little stray?” Seraphina’s eyes locked onto Lily’s hands holding me, and her expression filled with murderous intent. “A garbage picker?” Lily subtly moved me behind her. “Seraphina, are you even human? He has the mind of a six-year-old! You’re torturing a child!” Seraphina let out a cold laugh. “A child? He’s a better actor than anyone I know.” She gestured with her hand, and the guards swarmed forward, pinning Lily to the ground. Seraphina sauntered over, the heel of her shoe pressing down hard on Lily’s hand. “Agh!” Lily grunted in pain but bit her lip, refusing to cry out. “Since this hand dared to touch my man,” Seraphina said softly, “then it doesn’t need to exist.” She took a golf club from a guard and raised it high above her head. “No!” I screamed, a primal roar tearing from my throat.

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I was just born when the housekeeper swapped me. She put me in the servant’s quarters, claiming I was the illegitimate daughter of a staff member. She placed her own daughter in the gold-trimmed crib, turning her into the beloved true heiress everyone envied. For three years, I watched her wear princess dresses, drink imported formula, and be cradled in my parents’ hands. Meanwhile, I slept on a mat, ate leftovers, and my name was chosen at random. That night, the housekeeper drank too much and let slip the truth. I heard every word clearly. That same night, while everyone was asleep, I crawled into the master bedroom. In the crib, the fake heiress slept soundly. I climbed up, aimed at her, and raised my foot— 01 *Thump* The dull thud of a body hitting the carpet. Immediately followed by Liliana’s heart-wrenching screams. The lights in the entire villa flashed on. I heard hurried footsteps in the corridor. My father, Jonathan, my mother, Elizabeth, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Green. They rushed in together. The sight before them made them all freeze. I, Ivy Vance, the illegitimate daughter of a servant in their eyes, lay comfortably in the Ashworth heiress’s crib. And their treasured daughter, Liliana, lay on the cold carpet, crying as if her lungs would burst. “Liliana!” My mother, Elizabeth, was the first to react, screaming as she rushed to pick up Liliana. My father, Jonathan’s face was ashen, his gaze like daggers shooting towards me. Mrs. Green’s face, however, instantly lost all color. She knew, more than anyone, what this meant. “Liliana, my darling, where did you fall? Let Mommy see.” Elizabeth held Liliana, tears streaming down her face from distress. Liliana’s small face was streaked with tears. She pointed a finger at me. “It’s her! She pushed me!” Her words were slurred, but her meaning was clear. Everyone’s gaze focused on me again. Jonathan’s eyes grew colder. “What happened?” His voice was heavy with suppressed fury. Mrs. Green’s body trembled like a leaf. She quickly stepped forward and roughly pulled me from the soft crib. Her grip was strong, making my bones ache. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry, madam.” “It’s my fault. I didn’t keep an eye on this little devil.” “She must have been sleepwalking and just climbed up herself.” As she spoke, she fiercely pinched my arm, her eyes full of warning. I endured the pain. I said nothing, merely staring at the nominal parents before me with wide, dark eyes. My gaze was filled with timidity and fear. Like a startled little animal. This was an act. In three years, I had learned how to disguise myself to survive. Elizabeth’s attention was entirely on Liliana; she didn’t even look at me. Jonathan, however, was scrutinizing me. His brow was deeply furrowed. Perhaps he was wondering how a three-year-old child could run from the servant’s quarters to the master bedroom and then climb into such a tall crib. “Sleepwalking?” He repeated, his tone laced with suspicion. Mrs. Green’s cold sweat instantly poured down. “Ye… yes, sir.” “This child has always had that habit.” “I’ll take her away right now and lock her up. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother young Miss anymore.” As she spoke, she moved to drag me away. I sneered inwardly. Lock me up? She wished. My goal tonight wasn’t just to kick Liliana. I wanted to stay. To stay by their side. So, I started to tremble. My small body shook violently, my teeth chattering. I looked at Jonathan, my eyes filled with extreme terror, as if I had seen something dreadful. Then, I burst into tears with a “wah.” Crying more miserably than Liliana on the floor. My cries were frantic and fearful, mixed with an inexpressible sense of grievance. “Not me… not me…” I cried, speaking in broken sentences. “There was… there was a bad man…” “A bad man in black clothes. He carried me up here.” “He also tried to carry my sister. I was scared, so I pushed him…” My words were muddled. But the core message was clear. An intruder had entered. Jonathan’s face instantly changed. He wasn’t concerned about me, but about the Ashworth family’s security. “What did you say? A man in black?” He demanded sharply. I flinched at his voice and cried even harder. Mrs. Green froze. She hadn’t expected me to invent such a lie. She wanted to refute it, but dared not. Because if she said there was no intruder, how would she explain my presence here? Would she admit she was drunk and let slip the truth, which I overheard? She wouldn’t risk it. “Sir, this girl is talking nonsense!” She could only deny it, forcing a brave front. “How could a stranger get into the house?” Jonathan ignored her. His sharp gaze swept around the bedroom. The windows were tightly shut, and the door was locked. Indeed, it didn’t look like an intruder had entered. His gaze fell on me again, filled with scrutiny and impatience. “Enough, stop crying.” Elizabeth had finally soothed Liliana. Holding her daughter, she looked at me with disgust. “A servant’s child, all she does is lie. Truly, like mother, like daughter.” “Mrs. Green, take her away quickly. She’s irritating to look at.” Mrs. Green looked as if she had been granted a reprieve. She immediately grabbed my arm, trying to drag me out of this troublesome place. I knew this was my last chance. Once she took me back to the servant’s quarters, a more brutal beating awaited me. I couldn’t leave. Just as Mrs. Green pulled me, I used all my strength to wrench free from her hand. I dropped to my knees with a thud. Not towards Mrs. Green, nor towards Elizabeth. I knelt towards Jonathan. The ultimate authority of this household. I looked up at him, my face streaked with tears. My eyes no longer held only fear. There was a hint of deference and dependence. “Daddy… Ivy is scared…” I called out timidly. That single word, “Daddy,” instantly plunged the room into silence. Everyone froze. Including myself. No, I hadn’t meant to call him Daddy. I meant to call him “Sir.” But this three-year-old body seemed to have its own instincts. In extreme fear and a desire for protection, it uttered the deepest address of its heart. Jonathan’s body stiffened. He looked down at me. At my thin, gaunt little face, at my dark eyes, like grapes. I saw a complex emotion flash in his cold gaze. There was shock, bewilderment, and a hint of… a tenderness he himself hadn’t noticed. Mrs. Green’s face was already as white as a sheet. 02 Silence. The air seemed to solidify. Elizabeth, holding Liliana, frowned even more deeply. “What did she call you?” She asked Jonathan, her tone full of disbelief and revulsion. “A servant’s bastard child, daring to call you Daddy?” Mrs. Green was terrified out of her wits and also dropped to her knees with a thud. “Sir, madam, I’m sorry!” “This child has problems, always talking nonsense. I’ll go back and teach her a good lesson!” She kept bowing her head, trying to cover my mouth. I shrank back, dodging her. I remained kneeling, looking up at Jonathan. I didn’t speak, just stared at him with eyes remarkably similar to Elizabeth’s, stubbornly. My gaze said: I didn’t make a mistake. Jonathan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t immediately get angry, nor did he tell Mrs. Green to take me away. He just stared at my face for a long time. So long that Elizabeth grew somewhat impatient. “Jonathan, what are you waiting for? Tell Mrs. Green to get her out of here!” “Liliana is already scared.” Liliana in her arms cooperatively started sobbing again. “Daddy, I’m scared, she’s so dirty.” Liliana’s voice pulled Jonathan from his contemplation. The flicker of emotion in his eyes instantly vanished, returning to its usual coldness. “Mrs. Green, take her downstairs.” He spoke calmly. “Yes, sir.” Mrs. Green breathed a sigh of relief, quickly got up, and grabbed me like a chicken. This time, I didn’t resist. Because I knew my goal had been half-achieved. The seed of doubt had been planted in his mind. I had caught that momentary glance. A man who commanded the business world wouldn’t be easily swayed by emotion, but he would absolutely trust his own eyes and judgment. My face was the biggest piece of evidence. Mrs. Green dragged me, walking quickly out of the master bedroom. Behind us, Elizabeth’s voice could be heard comforting Liliana. “Liliana, don’t be scared. Mommy will make her leave our house tomorrow, okay?” “Okay!” Liliana immediately stopped crying. Mrs. Green’s steps faltered. My heart sank too. Leave this house? That wouldn’t do. On the way back to the servant’s quarters, the long corridor was silent. Mrs. Green said nothing, but her grip on my arm tightened. I knew a beating awaited me. Sure enough, as soon as we entered that dark, damp little room, she locked the door from the inside. Then, she turned around. The fear was gone from her face, replaced by savagery and venom. “You little hussy!” She slapped me across the face. It stung, burning. I stumbled, thrown to the floor. “Who told you to run out? Who told you to talk nonsense?” Still not satisfied, she lifted her foot and kicked me. I curled into a ball, shielding my head with my arms. This was the most effective self-preservation method I had learned in three years. I was long used to this pain. Compared to hunger and endless cold, physical pain was the easiest to endure. “Did you hear something?” She kicked a few times, then seemed tired, stopping to catch her breath as she asked me. I lay on the floor, saying nothing. “I’m asking you a question!” She grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling me up from the floor. A tearing pain shot through my scalp. I was forced to look up at her distorted face. “I’m warning you, Ivy.” “From today on, if you dare to run around or speak nonsense again, I’ll break your legs and rip out your tongue!” “You remember this: I am your mother! And that Liliana, she is the true young lady of the Ashworth family!” “You’re just a nobody’s bastard, destined to serve my daughter like a slave your whole life!” She spat venomously. I looked at her, my eyes calm. I didn’t cry, nor did I beg. My calmness seemed to anger her even more. “You dare to glare at me?” She raised her hand, about to hit me again. Just then, a knock sounded from outside the door. “Mrs. Green, are you in there?” It was the voice of a young maid. Mrs. Green’s movements froze. Her face changed. “What is it?” She asked impatiently. “Sir wants to see you.” The maid said from outside the door. Mrs. Green’s pupils suddenly contracted. Sir? So late, what did Sir want with her? An ominous premonition enveloped her. She released my hair, roughly throwing me back to the floor. “You stay put! Don’t you dare go anywhere!” She warned me in a low voice, then walked over and opened the door. The maid outside looked at her, startled. “Mrs. Green, your face…” “It’s nothing, just accidentally bumped into something.” Mrs. Green vaguely explained, tidying her clothes and hair. “Where is Sir?” “In the study.” “Good, I’ll be right there.” Mrs. Green closed the door and locked it from the outside again. I heard her hurried footsteps fade into the distance. In the room, darkness and silence returned. I crawled up from the cold mat and went to the door. I pressed my ear against it, hearing nothing. But I knew Jonathan must have grown suspicious because of my “Daddy” earlier. He wanted to verify. And Mrs. Green was his first step in that verification. A cold smile touched my lips. Mrs. Green thought locking me up would solve everything? Too naive. This tiny servant’s room couldn’t hold me. I walked to the window and skillfully moved a small stool. The window wasn’t locked, just a simple latch. I stood on tiptoe, struggling to slide it open. Then, I pushed open the window and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Jumping down from here would sting a bit. But it didn’t matter. I knew the show was just beginning tonight. I had to see it with my own eyes. 03 The study light was on. Jonathan sat behind the large mahogany desk, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the surface. In front of him, sat a cold cup of coffee. He hadn’t drunk it. His thoughts were a mess. In his mind, the scene of that child crying and calling him “Daddy” echoed repeatedly. And her eyes. Those eyes, almost identical to Elizabeth’s. Three years ago, on the day the child was born, he was abroad negotiating an important contract. By the time he returned, the child had been born for several days. Elizabeth was somewhat weak after childbirth; he didn’t think much of it. Family matters had always been handled by Mrs. Green. Mrs. Green was a distant relative of Elizabeth’s, and had been with them since Elizabeth married into the Ashworth family. They trusted her implicitly. Therefore, he had never doubted his daughter. But tonight, that child named Ivy, like a pebble, had been thrown into the calm lake of his heart, stirring up ripples. Could a three-year-old child have such eyes? It wasn’t just fear; there was a calmness and stubbornness beyond her years. It was too strange. *Knock, knock.* A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in.” Mrs. Green pushed the door open, her head bowed, her expression both respectful and uneasy. “Sir, you called for me?” “Sit.” Jonathan gestured to the chair opposite. Mrs. Green was a little flattered and cautiously sat down. “That child, her name is Ivy?” Jonathan asked directly. Mrs. Green’s heart leaped into her throat. “Yes, sir.” “Who is her father?” Jonathan stared into her eyes. Mrs. Green’s gaze flickered. “I… I don’t know either.” “She was an abandoned baby I found outside my old home. I took pity on her and kept her by my side.” This lie, she had prepared long ago. It was watertight. Jonathan said nothing, just looked at her. His gaze seemed to penetrate her soul. Mrs. Green felt a prickling on her scalp, cold sweat streaming down her face. “How many years have you been with Elizabeth?” Jonathan suddenly changed the question. “Almost ten years, sir.” “Ten years.” Jonathan nodded. “Elizabeth trusts you very much.” “Madam has been incredibly kind to me.” Mrs. Green quickly declared her loyalty. “So, three years ago, when Elizabeth gave birth, you were managing everything inside and outside the hospital.” Jonathan said, seemingly casually. Mrs. Green’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. What did he mean? Was he suspecting something? “That… that was my duty.” Her voice was somewhat dry. “I remember you said then that the child had a red birthmark on her ankle when she was born.” Jonathan continued. Mrs. Green’s face instantly went white. The birthmark! How could she have forgotten that! That year, to make the Ashworth couple believe Liliana was their daughter, she specifically fabricated the lie about a birthmark. Because Liliana’s ankle did indeed have a red birthmark. But the true Ashworth heiress had none! “Ye… yes, sir.” “Miss Liliana’s ankle does have a plum blossom shaped birthmark.” She could only force herself to admit it. “Hmm.” Jonathan hummed in response, not pursuing the topic further. He picked up the cold coffee cup and took a sip. “Alright, you may go.” “Remember, keep a close eye on your daughter. Don’t let her run around again and scare Liliana.” His tone was calm, betraying no emotion. Mrs. Green, however, felt as if she had just walked through the gates of hell. “Yes, sir, I understand.” She quickly rose, bowed, and retreated. It wasn’t until she was out of the study and had closed the door that she realized her back was completely drenched in cold sweat. That was too close. Fortunately, Sir didn’t press further. She let out a long sigh of relief and hurried towards the servant’s quarters. She had to go back and teach that cursed Ivy a good lesson. It was all that little devil’s fault! In the study, Jonathan put down the coffee cup. He pulled open a drawer and took out a photograph. It was Elizabeth’s baby picture. The infant in the photo was chubby and fair-skinned, with bright, dark eyes. Almost identical to the child named Ivy tonight. He remembered another thing. Elizabeth’s family had a very distinctive genetic trait. They were severely allergic to mangoes. Yet his daughter, Liliana, loved to eat mangoes. Before, he simply thought the child didn’t take after her mother. But now, it all seemed strangely peculiar. A thought so bold that even he found it absurd, rose in his mind. Could it be… He picked up the phone on the desk and dialled a number. “Hello, Old Leo, it’s me.” “I need you to do something for me.” “Tomorrow morning, send your most reliable person to the house.” “Take two samples for a paternity test.” “One is Liliana’s, the other…” He paused, the image of that thin but stubborn little face appearing in his mind. “…is Mrs. Green’s daughter, Ivy.” “Remember, this must be kept absolutely confidential.” Hanging up the phone, Jonathan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He hoped he was overthinking. Meanwhile, outside the window, on a large tree. I hid behind the dense leaves, taking in everything that happened in the study. Although I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I saw Jonathan’s expression. I saw his contemplation as he took out the photo. And I saw his serious, resolute demeanor when he finally made the call. I knew my plan had succeeded. He was shaken. Now, I just needed to add fuel to the fire. To let this spark of doubt completely ignite into an inferno. I silently slid down from the tree, like a nimble cat. I didn’t return to the servant’s quarters. Mrs. Green was surely in a rage now; going back would be walking into a trap. I had to go somewhere else. A place where I could make the fire burn even brighter. My mother, Elizabeth’s room. 04 Elizabeth was still awake. She sat at her vanity, gently stroking Liliana’s hair. Liliana, having been frightened today, insisted on sleeping with her. Now, the little girl was fast asleep, a hint of unease still on her small face. Elizabeth sighed. She thought again of tonight’s events. That child named Ivy, that dirty little face, and that timid whisper of “Daddy.” To be honest, the moment she saw that child, she felt a very strange sensation. Not entirely disgust. There was also a vague… sense of closeness. Especially when she knelt on the floor, looking at her with eyes so similar to her own, her heart actually felt a pang. How could this be? She must be crazy. That was just a servant’s child. A coarse, ill-mannered, lying bastard. Elizabeth shook her head, trying to shake off these absurd thoughts. Just then, she heard a faint, suppressed sob. The sound came from the balcony. She paused. So late, who was out there? She stood up, quietly walked to the French doors, and pulled back a corner of the curtain. In the moonlight, a tiny, frail figure was curled up in the corner of the balcony. It was Ivy. She hugged her knees, burying her head in her arms, her small shoulders shaking. She was crying. Crying so sadly, so helplessly, yet daring not to make too much noise. As if afraid to disturb others, or perhaps afraid of revealing her vulnerability. Elizabeth’s heart felt as if something had violently clenched it. It hurt. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She had been so disgusted with this child this afternoon. But now, seeing her cry alone in the cold night wind, she felt a strange reluctance. On an impulse, she opened the balcony door. “What are you doing out here so late?” Her voice was softer than she expected. Hearing the sound, my body trembled violently. I slowly lifted my head, and seeing her, my eyes instantly filled with panic. I quickly scrambled up from the ground, standing there awkwardly, like a child who had done something wrong. “I… I’m sorry, madam.” “I… I didn’t mean to.” My voice was thick with sniffles, hoarse and pitiful. “I… I don’t dare to go back.” “Mrs…. Mrs. Green said she would break my legs.” As I spoke, tears fell again. Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “She’s going to hit you?” “Mm.” I nodded, unconsciously touching my swollen, red cheek. In the moonlight, the clear slap mark was strikingly visible. Elizabeth’s gaze fell on my face, her eyes narrowing. She reached out, as if to touch it, but stopped midway. She seemed to be disgusted by my dirtiness. I saw her hesitation. I sneered inwardly, but my face showed even more grievance. I lowered my head and whispered, “It’s okay, madam, I’m not in pain.” “Mrs. Green said it’s because I was disobedient, because I made Miss angry. I deserve to be hit.” “As long as… as long as you don’t send me away, being hit is fine.” “I don’t want to go to the orphanage.” “I heard other servants say that children in orphanages never get enough to eat and are always bullied.” Every word I spoke was like a needle, piercing Elizabeth’s heart. She came from a privileged background. Since childhood, she had never witnessed such a scene. A three-year-old child begging not to be sent away, willing to be beaten instead. What kind of despair was that? For the first time, a hint of displeasure towards Mrs. Green arose in her heart. Even if it was a servant’s child, she shouldn’t be abused like this, should she? “You… come in first. It’s cold outside.” She was silent for a long time, then finally spoke. I paused, seemingly unable to believe my ears. I looked up at her, my eyes filled with surprised gratitude. “Thank you, madam.” I cautiously entered the room, standing awkwardly by the carpet, daring not to step further. I kept my head down, not daring to look at her, nor at any of the luxurious furnishings in the room. I behaved like a child from the slums who had accidentally stumbled into a palace. Insecure, yet with a hint of curiosity. Elizabeth looked at my demeanor, and that hint of displeasure in her heart turned into pity. “Your name is… Ivy?” She asked. “Mm.” “Who named you?” “Mrs. Green.” I said, “She said I was found under a grapefruit tree.” Elizabeth fell silent. She looked at me, then at Liliana, who was sleeping soundly on the bed. One was picked up casually under a grapefruit tree. The other was cherished like a precious jewel, showered with endless love. Fate, how unfair. Just then, I suddenly smelled a sweet scent. It was a plate of sliced mangoes on the bedside table. That was Liliana’s late-night snack. My eyes immediately fixed on the plate of mangoes. Then, an expression of extreme fear appeared on my face. I began to uncontrollably retreat, my body starting to tremble. “No… don’t…” I cried out in terror. “Don’t eat that… eating it will… will kill you…” My reaction was very strong. As if I had seen some deadly poison. Elizabeth was startled by me. “What’s wrong with you?” She asked, puzzled. “This… this thing, it’s poisonous!” I pointed at the mangoes, my voice trembling. “I… I saw it before. A child in the village ate this, and red spots broke out all over his body, and then he… he died.” I fabricated a lie that fit my background, filled with ignorance and fear. Elizabeth froze. Mangoes? Poisonous? She knew, of course, that mangoes were not poisonous. But she also knew that everyone in the Elizabeth family was allergic to mangoes. Mild cases caused rashes, severe cases… could indeed be fatal. This was a family genetic secret. No outsider could possibly know about it, except for the closest family members. But this child before her… Why did she react so strongly to mangoes? Could it be… A thought, which even Elizabeth herself found absurd, just like Jonathan’s, broke through in her heart. She looked at me, her eyes filled with shock and disbelief. She then looked at the “daughter” on the bed, who loved to eat mangoes. A thought screamed wildly in her mind. Could this be my daughter? And who was the one on the bed? Her world, at this moment, began to turn upside down.

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I’d just crashed after a marathon work session when my mom dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn to go to the supermarket. The cashier at the beauty counter mistook us for sisters and showered us with compliments. My mom just laughed and explained we were mother and daughter. The cashier’s eyes went wide. Her tone was a strange mix of awe and pity. “You look more like the daughter…” I froze. I turned and stared at the two faces reflected in the mirror behind the counter. My mom’s skin was firm and smooth, like a twenty-year-old college student’s. The face next to hers—mine—was splotched with freckles and sagged like a fifty-year-old woman’s. The smile on my mom’s face vanished. “What kind of thing is that to say?! Are you calling my daughter old?!” Exhaustion had left my nerves frayed and raw. Hearing my mom’s words, a completely irrational fury surged through me. I was about to lash out. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. The fine lines at the corners of my mom’s eyes were… vanishing. … I rubbed my eyes, disbelieving. I looked again. One of the crow’s feet was definitely gone. Last night, around twelve-thirty, I’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of water and found my mom still on the couch, binge-watching a show. I’d urged her to go to bed. She was in her fifties; she couldn’t pull all-nighters like she used to. She’d just waved me off. “You’re going to get wrinkles,” I’d warned her. At that, her face had gone pale. She’d fumbled for her phone, frantically opening the camera to inspect her reflection. When she saw the tiny crow’s feet that had appeared, she’d rushed to the bathroom and slathered her face with a dozen different creams. I had seen them clearly then. Two distinct lines at the corner of each eye. But now, impossibly, one was missing. The rising clamor of the store dragged me back to reality. I shook my head hard, telling myself it was a hallucination. I was just sleep-deprived. My mom was still berating the cashier. The noise was giving me a headache. I’d lost all patience for shopping. I turned to leave. “Tilly, you… you’re not angry?” my mom asked, her voice laced with surprise. I couldn’t blame her for being confused. There was nothing I hated more than people commenting on my appearance, on how old I looked. For as long as I can remember, my face has been out of sync with my age. At five, I looked ten. At ten, I looked twenty. Now, in my mid-twenties, I had the face of a woman pushing fifty. I was convinced it was some kind of medical condition. I’d been to every hospital, endured countless tests, but the results always came back the same: perfectly normal. Because of this face, I’d been an outcast my whole life, a target for ridicule and stares. As I got older, my temper grew shorter. The single word “old” was enough to make me explode. I’d only taken two steps when my mom caught up, grabbing my arm. She pointed to the snack aisle. “Just help me pick out some chips before we go.” She dragged me over and started poring over the shelves. While she was distracted, I pulled out my phone and dealt with a few work messages. After we paid, I was about to walk out of the supermarket. The moment I stepped past the threshold, the security alarm blared. The nearest cashier rushed over, blocking my path with her arms outstretched. “Excuse me, I’m going to need to search your personal belongings.” A vein throbbed in my forehead. A hot spike of fury shot up from my feet. It was just one damn thing after another today. As I was about to protest, my mom bumped into me from behind. I stumbled forward, and a perfectly wrapped lollipop tumbled out from my jacket and clattered onto the floor. My mom gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Tilly, what is that?!” I stared at it, frozen. I hadn’t touched a single thing on the shelves. How could it possibly be on me? Before I could even process it, the cashier pointed a finger at the lollipop and screeched, “Caught red-handed! You dress all nice, but you’ll steal a two-dollar lollipop!” Her shout drew a crowd. People stopped their shopping to stare. I took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Check the security cameras.” The cashier crossed her arms, smirking. “Oh, so you’re a pro, huh? You’ve already cased the joint, you know where the camera’s blind spot is.” That, I hadn’t expected. I exhaled slowly, realizing I’d have to fight this myself. I held up my shopping bag. “You can look up my loyalty account. I spend close to ten thousand dollars a year in this store. I just spent over a hundred in the last ten minutes. Do you really think I need to steal a two-dollar lollipop?” My argument seemed to sway some of the onlookers. They started nodding. “She’s right. That jacket she’s wearing is probably worth a thousand bucks.” “She doesn’t look like a shoplifter. And with the sensors at the door, who would be stupid enough to risk it for two dollars?” My mom’s eyes darted around, and then she chimed in, her voice sharp. “Exactly! My daughter is a CEO. Does she look like someone who needs to steal from you?!” The cashier just snorted. She looked me up and down, her gaze finally settling on my face with a look of pure disgust. “CEO, so what? Looking like that, she’s probably got some weird fetish for stealing…” Her words were a slap across my face. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I could hear the whispers starting up around me, the soft clicks of phone cameras. “God, that woman looks so old. She’s older than my mom. Doesn’t she ever take care of herself?” “Maybe she really does have some kind of weird thing…” “I thought the one next to her was her daughter. Turns out it’s her mom! I’ve seen it all now. The mom looks younger than the daughter.” … The ghosts of a thousand pitying, scornful stares from my past came rushing back, stabbing at me. I could barely breathe. I instinctively wanted to duck my head, to hide my face. The cashier wasn’t letting up. She grabbed my arm, pointing to the fine notice on the wall. “The fine for stealing is one hundred times the value of the item. That’ll be two hundred dollars. Pay up, or I’m calling the police.” My fingers were trembling. I took a deep, shaky breath and forced a cold smile. “Fine. Call the police.” “Even if there’s no camera, someone in this crowd must have seen something.” “And besides, if you’re saying I stole it, then my fingerprints will be on it. We can have it tested, and the truth will come out…” Suddenly, my mom cut me off, her voice shrill. “Don’t call the police!” Her sudden outburst startled me. Her eyes flickered nervously. “Tilly, honey,” she said, her voice dropping to a soft, placating tone, “it’s just two dollars. It’s not worth bothering the police over.” “We can afford the two hundred dollars. There’s no need to make things difficult for the cashier. She’s just doing her job.” The cashier smirked, triumphant. “See? Looks like your mom is the reasonable one here.” The crowd murmured in agreement. “Yeah, no need to waste police resources.” “The mom really is the sensible one.” “What a difference between them. She’s a typical rich boss, no sympathy for the working class…” Hearing my mom’s words, a new kind of anger, hot and sharp, flared in my chest. How had this become me making things difficult for her? I hadn’t stolen anything. Calling the police was the only way to clear my name. If I paid the fine, I was admitting guilt. I looked at my mom, a flicker of resentment in my eyes. For the first time, I ignored her. “This affects my reputation,” I said, my voice hard as steel. “It could even affect my company’s stock price.” “I’ve already said we can have the evidence tested. If you insist on accusing me of theft, then charge me. If you win, I’ll pay whatever the court decides. If you lose, I’ll be suing you for defamation.” The cashier’s bravado vanished. She glared at me, muttering under her breath before finally dropping her hands. “Just my luck!” My mom was still apologizing to her. The glares from the crowd intensified. I ignored them all and strode towards the restroom. The moment I locked the stall door, my legs gave out. The memory of those stares, those whispers, replayed in my mind. My hands shook as I fumbled in my pocket for my anxiety medication. I dry-swallowed a pill, waiting for the panic to subside. As I was about to leave, I heard voices by the sinks. “Hey,” a woman said in a gossipy tone, “do you think that woman in the supermarket really stole something? She didn’t seem like the type.” A few seconds later, another voice, hesitant. “Actually… I saw it. It wasn’t her. It was the woman next to her…” “It was her mom. She slipped it into her pocket when she was looking at her phone.” The first woman gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “Are you crazy? It’s not my business. Better to stay out of it.” The sound of their footsteps faded down the hall. My hand hovered over the lock, frozen. I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be. My mom… she wouldn’t… But even as I denied it, the pieces started clicking into place. The way she had insisted on going to the snack aisle. The way she had “accidentally” bumped into me. For years, whenever my mom and I went out in public, something would always go wrong. I would always end up in some kind of trouble. The suspicion, once a tiny seed, was now a monstrous, thorny vine, wrapping itself around my heart. Suddenly, I remembered the words of an old holistic healer I had seen years ago. The old man, well into his nineties, had looked at me with a strange, complicated expression and told me that my problem might not be physical. I hadn’t understood then. But now… I had to know. I had to prove it. I forced myself to calm down and walked out of the restroom. My mom was standing by the curb, the sunlight making her glow. And then it hit me. For as long as I could remember, my mom’s face had never changed. For over twenty years, she had looked exactly the same. I took a slow, steadying breath and walked towards her. Using the excuse of picking a leaf out of her hair, I got close and examined her face. Just as I suspected. The other crow’s foot was gone. A sharp, searing pain shot through me. I couldn’t face the truth that was staring me in the face. I mumbled something about work and fled, like a coward. But I didn’t go to the office. I went to see a well-known spiritualist in the city. The result was just as I had feared. She told me I was cursed. And had been, for many years. Someone was feeding off my negative energy to nourish themselves. It had to be someone who was with me constantly. My first thought was my mom. I had barely left her side my entire life. I was supposed to go to a boarding school in middle school, but my mom had said she couldn’t bear to see me suffer. She sold our downtown apartment and we moved to a place near the school. When I got into a university in another city, she moved the entire family with me. What I had always thought was love was actually the source of all my suffering. Tears welled in my eyes. Why? I had cried to her so many times about my face, about my pain. And she had just smiled gently and told me not to care what other people thought. She wasn’t comforting me. She was admiring her handiwork. The more miserable I was, the more she thrived. A black, venomous hatred began to bloom in my heart. I wouldn’t let her win. Why should I be the one to suffer? If she never thought of me as a daughter, then I no longer needed to think of her as a mother. In that moment, I decided to get my revenge. My mom had told me not to care what other people thought. Well, let’s see how she felt when she was the one in the spotlight. I wiped the tears from my eyes. And I went home. I didn’t want my mom to suspect anything, so I skipped dinner, claiming I was tired, and went straight to my room. I opened up a streaming app and clicked on a livestream raising money for a baby with a cleft palate. On the screen, a young couple was performing in a rundown room. After seven hours, they had only raised about two hundred dollars. The comments were brutal. “Have the mom put on some fishnets and do a sexy dance, and I’ll send a gift!” “If the dad eats a handful of dirt, I’ll donate fifty bucks!” … A group of trolls, turning their tragedy into a joke. I couldn’t watch it. I sent twenty of the highest-tier virtual gifts in a row. Then I contacted them directly and donated a hundred thousand dollars. The continuous stream of gifts filled the entire screen. The couple burst into tears. “Thank you, Miss Tilly, thank you! You’ve saved our family!” “We will pray for you for the rest of our lives! God bless you!” “Good people will be rewarded!” The comment section exploded. “Where did all those idiots go? Can’t they type anymore?” “This is a real hero. Not like those perverts who just came to see a show.” “She’s beautiful and kind! A round of applause for her!” Hearing those words, I paused. It was the first time in over twenty years that I had heard a genuine compliment. I felt a pang of shame. I wasn’t a good person. I had done this for my own selfish reasons. But when I saw that couple, holding their child and thanking me, my eyes welled up. I knew better than anyone what it was like for a child to be judged for their appearance. I closed the app. A slow, creeping sense of pleasure bloomed in my chest. The next second, a loud crash came from the living room. Followed by a scream. It was my mom. I went downstairs to find her staring, pale-faced, at a shattered mirror on the floor. Her face was changing before my very eyes. Her skin was becoming sallow, the lines around her mouth deepening. Dark spots were appearing on her cheeks. In a single moment, she had aged ten years. I smiled to myself. Payback came faster than I thought. When she saw me, her eyes were wild. She rushed at me, grabbing my arms and shaking me violently. “Was it you? Did you do this?!” I blinked, feigning surprise. “Mom, what are you talking about?” “Oh my god, your face! What happened? Did you have an allergic reaction to a new cream?” She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “It really wasn’t you?” I just shook my head, looking confused. After a few more seconds of her intense scrutiny, she seemed to relax. She realized she had overreacted. She forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I just tried a new face cream. It must be an allergic reaction…” She tugged at her collar, trying to hide her face. Her frantic movements betrayed her panic. I just nodded. Inside, I was ecstatic. Just a small taste of aging, and you’re already falling apart, Mom? This is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. As soon as I turned my back, I found several other fundraisers for people needing surgery and donated generously. The next morning, my mom was gone. I checked the security footage. She had left at the crack of dawn, her face completely covered by a mask, sunglasses, and a scarf, and had gone to a high-end beauty clinic. I almost burst into song. With her out of the house, I had the perfect opportunity. There was someone else in this house I needed to deal with.

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I’m the ugly kid in a family of beauties. My whole family treats me like a joke. Mom calls me “ugly child,” and my sister makes me livestream as a clown. Even relatives tease me: “You can’t be their biological kid, right? How can you look nothing like them?” For over twenty years, I’ve had enough of being the family clown. I finally saved enough money for braces before New Year’s. I happily went to book the surgery, only to be told: “Your mother came and made a scene. We had no choice.” “We had to refund the twenty thousand dollars in your account back to her.” I called home in disbelief. Mom said dismissively: “With that face of yours, even plastic surgery can’t save you.” “Better to spend the money where it matters. Your sister needs a nice bag for work, or it won’t match her pretty face.” The dark phone screen reflected my face. I finally understood—being ugly means I don’t deserve to be their daughter… “Miss Gwen, your mother made such a terrible scene, we really couldn’t handle it.” The receptionist looked at me with undisguised wariness, as if afraid I’d make trouble for her. I was still reeling from what my mom had just said. When I turned around, tears started falling. “Don’t come crying to us. Your mother ruined several of our appointments.” “She was shouting at our clients that they were ‘ugly people making a fuss over nothing,’ so who are we supposed to cry to?” She stepped back two paces and rolled her eyes in contempt. I wanted to argue back. But my parents’ words from childhood wrapped around me: “You look ugliest when you’re crying and screaming.” My natural insecurity left me speechless. I could only slink away in shame. On the way home, my sister posted on Snapchat. Heart-shaped face, big eyes, skin as fair and translucent as fresh lychee. Her beauty was so striking that even the exquisite Chanel bag could only serve as an accessory. In the photo, she squeezed between Mom and Dad, smiling happily. She playfully asked in the caption: “Guess who’s the mom and who’s the daughter?” [So the gorgeous girl takes after her parents—the whole family is beautiful.] Among the flood of compliments, my sister precisely selected this reply: [You wouldn’t say that if you met my sister. [We have a genetically mutated little clown in our family~] She thoughtfully attached a photo of us together. In the picture, my sister had her arm around my neck while I looked awkward and uncomfortable. Dull skin, flat nose, puffy eyes, and a slight underbite. Standing next to my sister, I looked like cow dung next to a flower. In our family’s genetic heritage of high nose bridges and big eyes. I was truly an anomaly. Every time we went out, my sister would get praised over and over by strangers: “This child perfectly inherited all your good features. She’s so beautiful, like a doll.” Meanwhile, I would only hear a slightly surprised question: “Is this your younger one?” Mom and Dad’s smiles always fell at that moment. They’d glance back at my face and laugh dryly: “Yeah, we don’t know who she takes after.” “If I hadn’t watched her being born, I’d think she was switched at the hospital.” “We all call her ‘ugly child.’” When I was little, I didn’t yet understand the concept of beauty and ugliness. But I already vaguely felt that I was the only one excluded from this family. “Ugly child, eat less meat. You’re already ugly—getting fat will make you even uglier.” “You want to learn ballet with your sister? You jump around like a toad. It’s hilarious.” “Ugly child, you look tacky and awful in pink dresses. Wear them at home if you want, but don’t embarrass me outside.” Mom and Dad were always like this, casually pointing out my flaws. With teasing, mocking laughter. During puberty, I once secretly bought makeup and got caught. My sister rushed over and took photos of me, laughing hysterically: “You’re wearing makeup with that ugly face? You look like a ghost. Even uglier.” Mom smashed my makeup: “You’re young and already up to no good. No allowance for you next month.” “Your ugly face is beyond saving no matter what you do to it.” Criticism, insults, mockery… After twenty years, I’d had enough. I worked desperately to earn money. I thought I could finally restart my life, but I never expected… The taxi stopped at our front door. My tears still hadn’t stopped. Anger and grievance surged together. I quickened my pace, wanting to rush in and demand an explanation. But laughter came from the half-open front door: “Isn’t it hilarious? Ugly child actually saved up money secretly to get plastic surgery.”

In the living room, relatives were visiting. Mom was cracking sunflower seeds, laughing so hard she was doubled over: “That idiot. Can that face of hers be saved? Even top plastic surgeons couldn’t do anything with it.” “Good thing I discovered her little scheme, or that money would’ve been completely wasted!” The relatives chimed in: “Ugly child usually seems so honest and simple, but her mind is quite active.” “She even thought about plastic surgery. That kind of face surgery is dangerous.” “Right now she’s just ugly—if the whole face gets ruined from surgery, that’ll be the end!” Another aunt waved her hand: “Why is ugly child always thinking about this? Actually, she’s not that bad looking. She’s quite…” The aunt paused, struggling for a long time to squeeze out a few words: “Quite cute, quite honest. She has the look of someone who’d make a good wife!” The living room fell silent. The aunt coughed awkwardly a couple of times. The relatives and my parents exchanged glances, then couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “Haha, this ugly child has been funny since she was little.” Mom laughed so hard she ran out of breath, slapping her thigh. Standing at the door, I gasped. I felt all the blood in my body flowing backward, rushing to my head. Visiting relatives had always followed this pattern since childhood. My sister would be surrounded and praised first, then the topic would turn to me. Relatives would tease me: “How come you don’t look like anyone else? You must have been switched at birth.” My mom would lower her voice and shush them: “Don’t tease her. She knows perfectly well in her heart.” “She knows her sister is pretty and she’s ugly. She secretly cares about her looks too.” “Now when her sister puts her hair in two braids, she has to do it too, without even looking at what she looks like.” My pain, my humiliation, would be dragged out every New Year. Turned into after-dinner entertainment by my mom. I couldn’t hold back anymore and rushed into the living room, shouting: “How I am is none of your business! That’s my money—give it back!” Everyone in the living room turned their eyes on me. Burning hot. Like they were stripping me naked. The insecurity deep in my heart wrapped around my throat like vines. “Oh my, look at our ugly child all grown up. We shouldn’t say too much—she’ll get embarrassed.” Mom covered her mouth and laughed. Her appraising gaze made me suffocate. The relatives gathered around, teasing me: “How does ugly child want to change herself? We older folks don’t understand. Why don’t you tell us about it?” “You can’t just say nothing. What if you get scammed and no one’s there to back you up?” My sister came downstairs humming, and hearing the commotion, she laughed too: “Ugly child thinks her teeth don’t look good and wants orthodontic treatment.” “Braces? Ugly child’s teeth are pretty good though, quite straight. Your sister’s were serious when she was little. Thank goodness your parents discovered it in time and got it corrected, or it really would have been a problem.” The topic shifted to my sister again. The relatives surrounded my beautiful sister with lavish praise. The tears I’d been holding back for so long still rolled down. My voice was hoarse as I asked my mom: “The doctor said my underbite could actually have been treated when I was little. It would have only cost a little bit of money to fix.” But Mom, Dad, why did you never care about me? When my sister was losing her baby teeth, Mom and Dad would panic if even one tooth was slightly crooked. They went to the hospital countless times and spent tens of thousands on orthodontic devices. But they couldn’t spare me a single glance. By the time they noticed, I’d already grown into someone with a crooked face and misaligned jaw. Mom and Dad didn’t feel bad or worried. They only mocked and disdained me: “Why are you getting uglier and uglier?” “Ugly child, ugly child—that nickname really fits.”

The accumulated heartache and grievance overflowed. I wildly wiped at my tears with my hands, but they only came faster. This sight made the relatives panic a bit. They laughed awkwardly: “Oh, our ugly child isn’t ugly at all. She’s beautiful.” “Don’t cry now. Everyone stop talking, okay?” They coaxed me like a child. Exchanging knowing glances with mockery in their eyes, clearly watching a show. Mom got impatient. She clicked her tongue: “Why are you crying? What do you have to feel wronged about?” “Making a scene during New Year’s—who are you trying to show? Isn’t this embarrassing?” “Why… why do you always call me ugly… why do you call me ugly child…” I sobbed, unable to think straight. I just wanted to vent all these years of pain. My mom was stunned for a moment, then laughed. “Aren’t you ugly? You’re this old and still don’t know yourself? Want me to get your sister to bring a mirror so you two can stand together and compare?” She couldn’t hold back her laughter and kept stabbing at my heart. “But really, you won’t hold a grudge against us for just telling the truth, will you?” “We’re helping you have self-awareness. Your taste is terrible too—look at what you’re wearing today. It makes you look fat and ugly.” “Ugly people shouldn’t make a fuss. Won’t people laugh at you when you go out?” My breath caught. My chest hurt like it was blocked. I could only squeeze a few words from my throat: “Yes. I hate you.” I hate your casual criticism and put-downs. Since childhood, Mom and Dad treated my sister like a princess. If my sister just walked two steps, Mom and Dad would have praise: “Our Maya holds her back so straight. She’s as beautiful as a swan.” But me—just sitting there, I had to endure Mom and Dad’s sharp, judgmental gazes: “Look at that. Sitting all crooked. Combined with her wretched appearance, she’s even uglier.” Since childhood, the word “ugly” had deeply shrouded me. During puberty, my sister blossomed into a graceful beauty, the acknowledged campus goddess. By comparison, my face broke out in acne and was constantly oily. When Mom and Dad saw my face, their disgust was written all over: “Oh my god, how did ugly child’s face turn out like this? So gross. What are we going to do if she keeps getting uglier?” “Ugly child, get some bangs to cover that big forehead of yours.” “Just wear your school uniform from now on. The uniform looks better on you.” After hearing Mom and Dad’s words for so long. I became hunched over, always looking down wherever I went, always wearing a mask. I just wanted to hide my face. My puberty years, spent in enormous appearance anxiety, became my most painful period. Those supposedly beautiful school memories—I had none of them. I was like a mouse, avoiding people’s gazes. I felt like everyone was talking about my appearance. Like Mom and Dad, laughing that I was ugly child. Later, when I went to college and got away from my parents, my personality became slightly more outgoing. New friends I made pushed aside my thick bangs and removed my mask. “Where are you ugly? You look fine. You just look a bit tired. Put on some makeup and you’ll be good.” Encouraged, I gathered my courage. I abandoned the bangs my parents made me keep and started learning makeup. But when I dressed up carefully, I always felt people were watching me. The giggling, well-dressed girls in the cafeteria made me wonder if they were laughing at my ugly face, at my over-the-top makeup. That meal felt like torture. That’s when I suddenly realized. My insecurity had already seeped into my bones. I instinctively opened my phone, wanting to delete the edited photo I’d just posted on Snapchat. But I discovered I’d forgotten to block my parents. I couldn’t see my friends’ compliments. I only saw my sister laughing: [Ugly child, that kind of makeup doesn’t suit you at all. How dare you show off like this? Aren’t you afraid people will laugh at you?] Mom was scolding: [You’re living quite the fancy life. Using too much makeup is making your skin worse and your ugly face even uglier.] Later, I threw away my pretty clothes. I obediently put my bangs back down. When I went home, I still couldn’t escape Mom’s mockery: “Oh, why aren’t you wearing those slutty dresses today? Finally realized it’s embarrassing?” My sister laughed too, seeming to give me sincere advice: “Ugly child, you have too much fat. You need to lose weight before wearing those dresses.” “But honestly, clothes are picky about faces. Some faces just can’t pull them off. Better just give up.”

Ugly child, ugly child. Light, casual laughter. Light, casual criticism. Pressing down on little me, it became a mountain. Never letting me straighten my back again. Mom and Dad laughed at me: “Being ugly is one thing, but your personality is so strange too.” “Petty and small-minded. You’ll never amount to anything.” But Mom, Dad, did you ever think about why I became this way? When I smiled with my teeth showing, you said it looked ugly. When I wanted to learn ballet, you said I was clumsy like a toad. When I hosted at school, you said I looked ridiculous in a formal dress and people laughed at me. Time and time again I tried to improve. You dragged me back down into the mud each time. “I hate you!” “I hate that you raised me to be like this!” The words I’d held in my heart for so many years finally came roaring out. Mom froze. She and Dad exchanged a quick glance. Shame and embarrassment flashed across their faces. “Your wings have grown hard, haven’t they? You dare talk to us like this?” Mom screeched at the top of her lungs. Her beautiful eyes furrowed as she pointed at my nose and scolded: “We’re just telling you the truth—it’s for your own good. Who else would be honest with you?” I bit my teeth, fists clenched. Tears dropped one by one onto the floor. “I don’t want to hear your so-called truth!” I wanted to hear your praise too… Even if not about being pretty—hardworking, studious, thoughtful… Any word would do. But Mom and Dad never really looked at me. Mom’s voice was still buzzing in my ears: “Besides, ask yourself—what have we ever denied you since you were little? You had food and drink. How did we wrong you?” I suddenly wanted to laugh. What had I ever had since childhood? My sister was beautiful and precious. Her clothes were bought in sets, filling her closet. Her fruit was peeled and cut, arranged on fancy plates. Even after my sister graduated, Mom and Dad drove her to and from work. At home, they even set out her dishes and utensils. And me? Since elementary school, I went to and from school by myself, just because my sister said, “She’s too ugly. Being with her is embarrassing.” Several times during typhoons, I watched other kids get picked up by their parents. Only I struggled through wind and rain. I’d walked the lonely road for over twenty years. My underbite could have been easily corrected when I was little. My puberty acne scars could have been easily treated. Not only did Mom and Dad not take these things seriously. They became their jokes instead. Many times, watching my sister, I wondered. Why, when we were growing up under the same sky. My side was always raining. Dampness seeping into my flesh and blood, corroding my bones. Her side was always sunny and peaceful. “You’re just biased! Biased toward my sister!” I wailed, hoarsely accusing them: “Why? Just because I’m ugly, you don’t like me? “I want to be pretty too! Give me back my money—my plastic surgery money! Give it back!” The relatives started whispering among themselves. Mom and Dad didn’t expect me to make such an endless scene. They were already getting angry. Mom lowered her voice, warning me: “Get upstairs right now. Stop embarrassing me here!” “I won’t go! Give me back my money! You’re so biased, stealing my money to buy my sister a bag?” Slap. Mom couldn’t take it anymore. She swung her arm and backhanded me across the face. The force was so strong it made me stagger back several steps. My ears started ringing. “How did I raise something like you! Get out!” Her shrill scolding echoed in my ears. I lifted my head in a daze. Mom was a recognized beauty. Even when she looked like a shrew in anger, she was still pretty. Dad frowned beside her, looking handsome even with a cold face. My sister stood with folded arms, laughing lightly, full of haughty disdain. The three of them stood in a row, like there was an unbridgeable chasm between them and me. After a long, long time, I heard my hoarse voice: “Fine. You don’t have to return the money. Consider it compensation for raising me.” “I’ll leave. An ugly girl like me doesn’t deserve to be part of your family.”

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My girlfriend Lester, whom I’d been dating for three years, always looked down on me for being just a designated driver with no ambition. One evening, she went to a friend’s party and still hadn’t come home by 11 PM. I offered to pick her up, but she refused over the phone. Shortly after, I received a ride request. I accepted it as usual, arrived at the location, pulled open the car door, and slid into the driver’s seat. In the rearview mirror was a couple. The woman was drunk, slumped against the man. He had his head lowered, his hand slipping under her skirt. The woman tilted her face up, seeking a kiss, her cheeks flushed. That woman was Lester. The necklace around her neck was the one I’d personally clasped on her three weeks ago, on our third anniversary. She clearly didn’t recognize me. I deliberately took out my phone and called her. A ringtone sounded in the backseat. Her body stiffened for a moment. She glanced sideways at the screen, then flipped her phone face-down on the seat and buried her face back in the man’s neck without even lifting her head. The phone rang six times before it cut off. I called again. It cut off again. The third time, she reached out and hit decline—swift and decisive, like hanging up on a telemarketer. I put my phone back in my pocket and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, my knuckles turning white. The man in the backseat looked up and barked at me, “What are you looking at? Eyes on the road! Twenty minutes for three kilometers—are you deliberately taking the long route?” I didn’t say anything. Lester laughed and patted his chest. “David, I know, right? I don’t know how the platform assigns drivers. They send people like this—drives like a snail.” She paused, her voice not lowering in the slightest. “And he keeps staring at my chest with those creepy eyes. Disgusting.” Her mocking tone made it sound like she was talking about a stray dog blocking the road. David called out to me again. “Turn on the AC. Twenty-six degrees. Can’t you figure that out? Your hands are shaking so much—did you buy your license off the internet?” I adjusted the temperature to 26 and said nothing. “I’m talking to you. Are you mute? Where’s your customer service?” Lester chimed in lazily from the backseat. “What kind of quality can you expect from a designated driver, David? Don’t waste your time on him. These bottom-feeders have no perspective. Just let him drive. Don’t expect him to understand what decency means.” Bottom-feeders. The words came out of her mouth with the same casual tone as saying “it’s a bit cold today.” David smiled with satisfaction, tightening his arm around her waist, his thumb slowly rubbing circles on her side through her dress. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned closer to him. I stared at the road ahead and didn’t say a word as I pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of a hotel. David got out first. He stood there, pulled some loose bills and coins from his pocket, and casually tossed them at my face. The bills hit my forehead and bounced off. The coins clattered against the dashboard, one of them rolling into the gap between the seats. “Go buy yourself a pack of cigarettes and reflect on yourself.” He dusted off his hands like he was shaking off something dirty. “With your skills, you should stick to delivering packages. Being a designated driver is an insult to the profession.” Lester stepped out of the car in her high heels. As she passed my window, she stopped for a moment, bent down, and spat at me. The saliva landed on my sleeve, spreading into a small dark stain. Then she hooked her arm through David’s, and the two of them pushed through the hotel’s glass doors and walked inside. I sat in the driver’s seat without moving. I bent down and picked up the bills from the floor mat one by one, dug the coin out from between the seats, and clutched them tightly in my palm. I opened the dashcam playback and watched the footage from the backseat from start to finish. The quality wasn’t crystal clear, but it was enough—her face, his hand, that necklace swaying in the frame, perfectly visible. I saved the video to my phone. I sent a message to the company’s legal team: Pull up everything on David from the last two years. I want the most detailed records possible. Three years. From the first time she complained that I had no ambition as a designated driver to tonight, when she called me a bottom-feeder in the rearview mirror. I’d been waiting for her to say something different. I never heard it.

The legal team replied the next day, their tone cautious. David had a transfer on his account under the guise of a petty cash fund—a significant amount that had been signed off and sent to a private account. I stared at the recipient’s ID information for three full passes. Lester. I set my phone face-down on the table, went to the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of water. It was cold, but I didn’t really taste it. I sat back down and pulled up every instance over the past three years when she’d claimed to be “working late,” “at a gathering,” or “staying over at a friend’s place.” I opened David’s travel records and cross-referenced them one by one. First match. Second match. Third, fourth, fifth—almost every single one matched, with time differences never exceeding fifteen minutes, as if they’d coordinated it. The “group photos” she’d sent me—I’d never looked closely at the backgrounds before. Now, zooming in, I found one taken in a hotel hallway. The mirror reflected half a figure—a tie, cufflinks, the same suit David had posted on his social media that day. Three years. I saved all the screenshots and created a folder. My father had been pushing me these past few days. The luxury car dealership had expanded to a third city, and Los Angeles needed someone who could make decisions. He called and got straight to the point. “How long are you going to keep running around as a designated driver? Do you have any idea how many things are piling up waiting for you to come back to the company?” I said, “Give me a little more time.” He was silent for a moment. “Are you still hung up on that woman?” I didn’t answer. He sighed, his voice softening. “Your mother said years ago that girl wasn’t right for you. We tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen. Are you satisfied now?” I said, “Dad, I’ll come back to handle LA once I’m done here. Send Wesley over first.” He was silent for a while longer before saying, “Fine. I’ll have Wesley there tomorrow.” After hanging up, Lester sent me a message saying she had to work late at the office tonight. She asked if I’d eaten and told me not to wait up for her—it would be very late. At the end, she added, “Be good and wait for me at home,” followed by a kissing emoji. I replied with a simple “okay.” Then I put on my jacket, went outside, hailed a cab, and gave the address of her supposed “office.” When I arrived downstairs, the company entrance was dark. The lights were off. The entire floor was empty. I found a step across the street and sat down. After ten minutes, David’s car turned the corner and stopped by the curb. Lester walked over from another direction, moving quickly, and opened the passenger door to get in. The window rolled up. The car stayed parked there without driving off. I opened my phone’s video recorder and pointed it at the car. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. A full hour. The car sat there under the streetlight, engine still running. The body rocked gently but steadily, the motion consistent. I saved the video, stood up, brushed the dust off my pants, and took a cab home. She got home at one in the morning, walked in saying “work was exhausting,” tossed her bag on the couch, changed into slippers, and went to take a shower. When she came out, her hair was still damp. She leaned against the headboard, scrolling through her phone, wearing an expression of deep relaxation. Not the kind of relaxation that comes after exhaustion—the kind that comes after satisfaction. She looked up and saw I was still awake. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? Don’t you have rides to pick up tomorrow?” I said, “Can’t sleep.” She hummed in acknowledgment and didn’t say more. She turned off the light, lay down, and within three minutes, her breathing had evened out. How many of those “working late” nights over the past three years had she spent in that car? I sent Wesley a message: Come over tomorrow. I need to talk to you. The next day, Wesley arrived. The first thing he said when he sat down was, “Julian, have you finally made up your mind?” I pushed my phone in front of him. Screenshots from the legal team’s account review, the hour-long video, the dashcam footage—I showed him everything, one by one. When he finished, he was silent for a long time before pushing the phone back. “What are you planning to do?” I said, “At the annual gala. I’m ending this.”

A week before the annual gala, Lester suddenly became unusually attentive toward me. In the mornings before I woke up, breakfast would already be on the nightstand. When I came home from work, the room would be spotless, my clothes folded neatly on the bed, even my slippers aligned and facing the door. In the evenings, she’d lean against my shoulder while watching TV, tracing circles on my chest with her finger, occasionally looking up at me with a smile—exactly like when we first got together three years ago. I knew what she was doing. She needed me to appear at the annual gala with her. She needed me to cooperate. She needed me to look stable, obedient, and not cause her any trouble. She needed me to be what I’d been for the past three years—the person kept in the dark. I played along. I smiled when she handed me water and asked her, “Why are you being so nice to me lately?” She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressed her face close, and said, “Because I love you, of course.” That necklace hung around her neck, glinting under the lights. That weekend, she dragged me to the mall and picked out a shirt for me at a discount store—over eight hundred dollars. At checkout, she told the sales clerk, “He doesn’t usually pay attention to these things. If I don’t keep an eye on him, he’ll just wear those same old T-shirts everywhere.” The clerk smiled without saying much, her eyes sweeping over me with a look I understood—she thought I wasn’t worth Lester spending that money on. On the drive home, she was behind the wheel, reminding me the whole way: speak less at the gala, don’t mention being a designated driver, and if anyone asks, just say “I’m considering a career change.” Don’t randomly chime in at David’s table—”they’re on a different level, you won’t be able to keep up.” Don’t toast people on your own initiative, don’t look around everywhere, just sit properly. Her tone as she said all this was natural—not a discussion, but instructions. Like teaching a not-so-bright child how to behave before going out. Patient, but condescending. I sat in the passenger seat, nodding, saying “got it.” She patted the back of my hand with satisfaction, a smile on her lips, then lowered her head to reply to a message. She angled her phone screen slightly away from me, but I caught a glimpse of the contact name in the reflection of the car window—”D,” followed by a red heart. The night before the gala, she went out, saying she needed to coordinate with the company about the venue. This time, I didn’t follow. I had enough evidence. I didn’t need one more piece. I called Wesley and told him to double-check the documents we’d prepared in advance: the dashcam video, the hour-long car footage, the financial records compiled by legal, the petty cash transfer agreement signed with Lester’s name—everything compressed into one file, with the projection equipment ready. Wesley asked, “Julian, are you sure you want to play this at the annual gala?” I said, “I’m sure.” He was silent for two seconds. “Alright. Leave it to me.” Lester came home in the early morning hours. As usual, she walked in saying “I’m exhausted,” took a shower, crawled into bed, and before sleeping, turned on her side to look at me, her tone instructive. “Tomorrow, wear a tie, don’t wear sneakers, and stick close to me. I’ve already talked to David. Just don’t say anything stupid.” I said, “Okay.” She turned off the light and lay down. Her breathing evened out quickly. On the morning of the gala, she got up very early, put on makeup, wore a new dress, and stood by the door waiting for me. I walked over. She picked up a tie, stood on her toes, and focused intently on tying the knot, her fingers looping it twice before pulling it tight. She looked up to check, adjusted it once more. “There. All set.” She patted my chest and said with a smile, “Don’t embarrass me.” I looked down at her, wanting to say “I won’t,” but in the end, I just nodded. Because today, the one who would be embarrassed wouldn’t be me.

When we entered the banquet hall, Lester linked her arm through mine and walked in quickly, as if afraid of being seen. A female colleague came toward us, her gaze sweeping from the top of my head to my feet, her voice loud enough for others to hear. “So this is your boyfriend? The designated driver?” She wrinkled her nose without hiding her disdain. “Reeks of poverty.” Before Lester could respond, someone nearby laughed and chimed in. “Lester, you’re really something. David thinks so highly of you, and you go and find a designated driver. Aren’t you just degrading yourself?” A few people around us laughed quietly. Lester pulled me along, quickening her pace without saying a word, her fingers digging tightly into my arm—not out of concern for me, but out of fear I’d say the wrong thing. After David finished his speech on stage and came down to make his rounds, he spotted me immediately and stopped. In front of a circle of people, his voice rang out loudly. “Oh, so this is Lester’s boyfriend? The designated driver?” He looked me up and down, shook his head, and turned to the sales manager beside him with a laugh. “Look at this. Lester’s taste is really terrible—finding a designated driver. A top car salesperson doing this to herself? What a waste. And here I thought she was a smart woman.” The manager smiled obsequiously and echoed him a couple of times. David turned back, patting my shoulder with just enough force—the kind of condescending pat from above. “Young man, what kind of future is there in being a designated driver? Life’s too short. Don’t hold Lester back. If she stays with you, she’ll suffer for the rest of her life.” I didn’t say anything. Lester kept her head down and didn’t say a word. Her brother Howard pushed through the crowd with a glass in hand, shouting loudly, “Julian!” He looked around, making sure his voice carried, raised his glass, and said with a laugh, “Everyone, tell me—my sister’s the company’s top salesperson, and she’s with a designated driver. Isn’t she blind?” The room erupted in laughter. Someone muttered quietly, “She really is settling,” while others shook their heads or held their drinks, watching the show. Howard turned to look at me, his smile fading, replaced by open contempt. “Julian, I’ll just say it straight. Are you worthy? What makes you worthy of my sister? What do you have? Money? Connections? All you’ve got is a driver’s license. Designated drivers are bottom-tier trash—the kind who’ll never crawl out of the gutter their whole lives. Don’t you have any self-awareness?” More laughter followed. This time, Lester spoke up, saying, “Howard, that’s enough.” But her voice was as flat as if she were commenting on the weather. Then she picked up her glass and turned to clink it with a colleague nearby. She didn’t look at me once. I sat in that chair, hands resting on my knees, not drinking a sip. I thought about every time over the past three years she’d said, “Can’t you be more ambitious?” I thought about her laughing in the backseat, calling me a “bottom-feeder doing bottom-feeder work.” I thought about the loose change David had thrown in my face. I thought about that hour-long video, the car parked under the streetlight, rocking. I thought about the screenshot from legal showing the recipient’s name: Lester. Lester’s mother stood up at that moment, her voice shrill enough for the entire table to hear. “What can a filthy designated driver give my daughter? Can you afford a big house? Can you afford a luxury car? Your monthly salary doesn’t even match one of my daughter’s car sale commissions!” Her finger was practically jabbing my face. The people around us laughed openly and without restraint. Just then, Wesley walked in through the side door. He didn’t look at anyone. Quietly, he walked to the corner, bent down, and plugged the projection cable into the large screen. The screen lit up. The first image—the business license for the luxury car dealership. In the legal representative column was my name. The second image—the corporate structure chart. David’s name was listed under “General Manager.” My name was above his. The entire room went silent. David’s face turned white in that instant.

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I thought three years of devotion would win Adrian’s heart. When he was paralyzed, I stayed by his bedside, listening to him beg me through trembling breaths not to leave him like his first love did. I gave him my first kiss and my first night. He promised me that once he could stand again, he would marry me. But when his legs finally healed, at his recovery party, he told everyone. “Scarlett? She’s just my housekeeper. She’s not good enough for me.” He pulled his first love close and kissed her right in front of me. That moment, I knew. It was time to leave. But Adrian, tell me. Why did you search the world for me like a madman after I left? Scarlett’s POV I always believed Adrian was special to me. During the three years he was paralyzed, when everyone else abandoned him, only I remained by his side. I’d seen him at his most vulnerable. I’d been there on those late nights when he’d grab my wrist, his voice shaking. “Scarlett, don’t abandon me like she did.” I thought I’d finally melted through his ice-cold exterior. But what came wasn’t a marriage proposal. Instead, at his recovery party, I heard him laugh casually with a friend. “What about Scarlett? The one who stayed with you for three years. What’s she to you now?” The friend asked. Adrian brushed off his sleeve carelessly, his tone indifferent. “She’s just a housekeeper. Why would she need any status?” My mind went blank. The gift box in my hands suddenly felt scalding hot. So this was what my three years meant. I took a deep breath, suppressing the dull ache in my chest, and walked into the ballroom. The moment I steadied myself, a familiar yet strange figure appeared at the entrance. Vivian. Adrian’s ex-fiancée, who had abandoned him three years ago. The moment she appeared, the entire room fell silent. Contemptuous gazes landed on her without reservation. Vivian’s face went pale. She stood there helplessly, her eyes reddening. Adrian cut through the crowd and walked straight toward her. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, he took her hand and pulled her to his side protectively. From start to finish, he never glanced at me once. I stood there, watching them become the center of attention, watching him shield her from all those hostile looks. My heart grew colder by the inch. Halfway through the party, I excused myself for fresh air and went to the terrace alone. Soon I heard several women laughing mockingly behind me. “Vivian, you really have some nerve. You left when you wanted, came back when you wanted. The moment Adrian recovered, you showed up. Your timing is impeccable.” Vivian’s voice choked. “You’re misunderstanding…” “Misunderstanding? Everyone knows how decisively you left back then.” Another sharp voice cut in. “Coming back now, do you still think you’re somebody?” Several women surrounded her with cutting words. That’s when Adrian’s icy voice rang out. “Since when do any of you get to criticize my companion?” He had appeared at some point and pulled Vivian protectively behind him. The women’s faces stiffened. They dispersed awkwardly. Adrian looked down at Vivian crying in his arms, his eyes full of concern. But when he looked up, his gaze turned cold as it landed on me. “You were standing here the whole time?” I froze, then nodded. His eyes grew even colder. “They were bullying her like that, and you just watched?” I opened my mouth to explain I’d just arrived. But he didn’t give me the chance. The disgust in his tone was unconcealed. “I almost forgot-you’re both the same type of person. Scarlett, I never thought you’d be like this.” Baseless accusations. I felt coldness creep from my feet, freezing my entire body. “I didn’t-” “Enough!” Adrian cut me off, supporting the trembling Vivian. “Vivian, let’s go.” He turned to leave. I instinctively stepped forward, trying to grab him. “Adrian…” My hand barely touched his sleeve before he violently shook it off. “Don’t touch me!” The force was so strong I was thrown backward. My forehead slammed hard against the sharp corner of a marble pillar. Blood flowed down, blurring my vision. The commotion startled Vivian. She rushed over, but when she saw the blood on my forehead, her face went pale. She let out a short, sharp scream. She covered her mouth, breathing rapidly. “Blood… Adrian, I can’t handle blood. I feel sick…” I struggled to stand, but all I saw was his resolute back. Adrian didn’t look back. He scooped up the swaying Vivian into his arms, his eyes full of anxiety. “Don’t be scared. I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” He carried her and left without hesitation. I leaned against the cold marble pillar and slid to the floor. Blood dripped onto my dress, spreading into dark red stains. My phone rang. It was Adrian’s mother. I numbly answered, forgetting to wipe the blood from my face. On the other end, her voice was gentle yet firm. “Scarlett, thank you for these three years. But Adrian’s wife must come from a distinguished family. You’re wonderful, but not suitable.” “I’ve got you a full scholarship to the psychology master’s program at Zurich University. There’s twenty million on this card. Call it my personal compensation. Let’s part on good terms. Just don’t let him see you again.” Every word was like a knife piercing my heart. I gazed at the distant lights and replied softly. “Alright.” “I agree.” “I’ll never appear before him again.”

Scarlett’s POV I went to the hospital alone. The wound on my forehead required five stitches. Though it hurt, I didn’t make a sound. Holding the payment receipt, I walked out of the treatment room and arrived at the VIP ward area. Through a half-open door, I saw Adrian. He sat by the bed, carefully wiping away Vivian’s tears with a damp cloth. Vivian’s face was streaked with tears. “Adrian, please don’t blame me. My parents fell seriously ill back then. They forced me to go abroad for treatment and wouldn’t let me contact you.” Such a clumsy lie. Yet I watched as the darkness in Adrian’s eyes melted bit by bit under her tears. He raised his hand to stroke her hair. “I know. I don’t blame you.” Vivian sniffled, her eyes glancing timidly toward the door, her voice just loud enough for me to hear. “What about Scarlett? She stayed with you for three years.” Adrian interrupted her, his voice tinged with impatience. “I only see her as a housekeeper.” Housekeeper. I stood there as all the blood in my body stopped flowing. I immediately turned and left, unwilling to hear another word. Returning to the villa, the air still carried the lingering scent of last night’s party perfume. Cold and mocking. I didn’t turn on the lights. In the darkness, I opened my laptop. Opening my email, I found the acceptance letter from Zurich. The cursor hovered over the confirmation button for three seconds. Then I pressed down hard. After finishing, I opened an encrypted folder containing the only photo of Adrian and me together. It was taken after his recovery. He’d picked up his phone and captured it himself. In the photo, he sat in his wheelchair, turning to look at me with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. I dragged the photo to the trash. Empty. Permanently delete. Adrian called as if nothing had happened, his tone matter-of-fact. “Bring that blue emergency file from the study to the office.” I didn’t refuse. I applied light makeup, used my bangs to cover the bandage on my forehead, grabbed the file, and went to Sterling Corporation. At the CEO’s office entrance, I ran right into Vivian. She held a thermos, and when she saw me, a victor’s smile spread across her face. “Scarlett, you’re here too? I made Adrian’s favorite seafood soup.” My heart seized. I pushed open the door and shouted a warning. “Adrian, you’re allergic to seafood! You can’t drink that!” Adrian looked up from behind his desk, glanced at me, then at Vivian standing in the doorway looking on the verge of tears. He frowned. Ignoring my warning, he took the soup bowl and drank a large mouthful right in front of me. “It’s delicious,” he told Vivian. I stood there, speechless. Before long, his allergic reaction began. His breathing became labored, his face flushed red, and small red welts appeared on his neck. Struggling to maintain composure, he waved at both Vivian and me. “Both of you, leave.” I pulled antihistamine pills from my bag, along with a cup of warm water, and pushed them toward him. Then I turned and left. Outside the company building, Vivian blocked my path. The gentleness on her face had vanished, replaced by undisguised mockery. “Scarlett, do you see clearly now?” “You’re just a salaried housekeeper.” “While I-” She smiled slightly. “I’m the lover he’s willing to drink poison for.” I had no comeback. Because it was the truth.

Scarlett’s POV That night, Adrian was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment due to a severe allergic reaction. When his assistant called, I didn’t go. I sat in the villa’s living room, sleepless through the night. It wasn’t until dawn that Adrian dragged his weakened body home. He froze the moment he saw me. I looked at his pale face, watched him harm himself for another woman, and felt only desolation. I said nothing. Just like any night in the past three years, I helped him upstairs, poured him water, and changed his clothes. The next day, Adrian had regained some energy, but made a request. “Vivian has a personal photography exhibition at the art gallery. Come with me.” I didn’t resist. I agreed. At the exhibition, camera flashes sparkled. Adrian spent lavishly, buying all of Vivian’s works, attracting media coverage about his devoted love. Vivian held his arm, basking in everyone’s attention. As she passed by me, she whispered in a voice only we could hear. “See, Scarlett? This is how he loves someone.” I lowered my eyes without speaking. Just then, the enormous crystal chandelier in the center of the exhibition hall suddenly emitted an ear-piercing creak. The supporting steel cable snapped! Screams instantly shattered the party’s tranquility. The scene descended into chaos. The crowd scattered in panic. I was violently knocked to the ground by the rushing crowd. Sharp pain shot through my left arm-it seemed dislocated. Then my ankle was trampled by fleeing people. The pain was excruciating. The pain made my vision go black. I struggled to get up from the floor. But all around me were panicked legs. No one noticed me. I lifted my head. Through flying glass shards and twisted, terrified faces, I saw a familiar figure. It was Adrian. He was fighting through the crowd. In that instant, my heart skipped a beat. Had he come back to save me? I opened my mouth to call his name. But the next moment, reality delivered its cruelest blow. From his mouth came another woman’s name, shouted in panic. “Vivian! Vivian, where are you!” His gaze swept anxiously over the chaotic crowd, searching for his only target. His eyes passed over my direction without the slightest pause. He hadn’t come for me at all. I lay on the cold floor, all strength drained from my body. I watched him find Vivian, who had been pushed into a corner by the crowd, trembling with fear. He immediately shielded Vivian beneath him, using his own back to block any falling debris. Then without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms and rushed out of the danger zone without looking back. From beginning to end, he never once glanced in my direction. Everyone around had fled. The entire exhibition hall held only me, collapsed on the floor, and the shadow of death swaying precariously overhead. I couldn’t escape. The severe pain in my ankle prevented me from standing. My arm was useless. A massive chandelier component with metal supports, mixed with countless glass shards, grew larger in my pupils. With a shrieking whoosh, it plummeted toward my head. When I woke again, I was in a hospital. In the sharp smell of disinfectant, my best friend Riley sat by the bed, her eyes red and swollen. “Scarlett, you’re finally awake!” Riley told me I had a mild concussion, my left arm was fractured, and wrapped in a thick cast. Vivian had only suffered a fright. Adrian had stayed by Vivian’s side the entire time in the adjacent VIP room, providing psychological counseling. Once again. Once again, at a life-or-death moment, he’d abandoned me without hesitation. I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, and finally cried. Not from sadness, but from liberation. I grabbed Riley’s hand, my voice hoarse but carrying unprecedented determination. “Riley, I got the offer from Zurich. Once I finish the paperwork, I’m leaving.” “I don’t want him anymore.” The moment the words left my mouth, the hospital room door was slammed open. Adrian stood in the doorway, radiating cold fury, his face terrifyingly dark. He stared at me in the hospital bed, his voice as cold as ice. “Who’s leaving?”

Scarlett’s POV Adrian’s gaze bore into me. Riley flinched at his intensity, instinctively moving to shield me. I gently pulled Riley aside and met Adrian’s eyes. I told a lie. “My friend is leaving. She has some family matters.” Adrian’s expression softened slightly, but remained dark. He walked over, looking down at me from his height, his tone stiff. “About the chandelier incident-I’m sorry. The scene was too chaotic. I didn’t notice you.” Didn’t notice. I forced a smile. “It’s fine, Mr. Sterling. I’m just a housekeeper. It would be strange if you had noticed me.” I used such a distant form of address for the first time. Adrian’s brow furrowed instantly. His gaze landed on my cast-covered arm, revealing surprise. “It’s this serious?” He reached out, seemingly wanting to touch the cold cast, but stopped midway. “I didn’t know you were hurt this badly. I’ll stay and take care of you.” His voice finally held a trace of warmth. But my heart had long since frozen. Just then, his phone rang. It was Vivian. Through the phone, Vivian’s tearful voice came. “Adrian, I’m scared. Every time I close my eyes, I see that chandelier falling. I had a nightmare.” Hesitation crossed Adrian’s face. I saw through his struggle. So I made the decision for him, saying softly. “Go to her. She needs you more.” A flash of guilt crossed Adrian’s eyes, but he still turned to leave. “I’ll have someone from home come care for you.” With that, he quickly left. I watched his retreating figure and smiled. On discharge day, Adrian came to pick me up himself. Vivian sat in the passenger seat. He was taking us to a charity gala. Throughout the drive, Adrian and Vivian chatted happily. I sat in the back seat like a ghost. The gala’s auction segment became their stage for displaying affection. Adrian spent lavishly for Vivian, bidding on famous paintings and jewelry. He finally seemed to remember someone sat in the back seat and asked perfunctorily. “Scarlett, is there anything you want?” My eyes landed on a pair of antique cufflinks about to be auctioned. Men’s cufflinks, symbolizing lifelong protection. I looked at those cufflinks for one second. Adrian immediately understood and raised his paddle without hesitation. After several rounds of bidding, he successfully won the cufflinks. Just as I thought this was his small way of making up for my injury, Vivian spoke up sweetly from beside him. She explained the meaning behind those cufflinks: lifelong protection. Adrian’s hand holding the cufflinks instantly froze. He glanced at Vivian, then at me. After hesitating, under everyone’s watchful eyes, he made a decision that turned me into the evening’s laughingstock. He handed the cufflinks, originally bid for me, to Vivian beside him. “These are for you.” Only then did he turn back to me. “Those aren’t suitable for you. I’ll bid on something else.” In that moment, I understood. I didn’t even qualify to be given something symbolizing his protection. I looked at him and gently shook my head. “No need, Mr. Sterling.” “I don’t want anything anymore.”

Scarlett’s POV After the gala, in the parking lot. Vivian, wearing high heels, blocked my path. She stood there with arms crossed, wearing the arrogance of a victor. “Scarlett, do you see your place now?” “The person in Adrian’s heart is me. Three years ago, and now too. A housekeeper like you shouldn’t have delusions. Just withdraw yourself and keep some dignity.” I looked at her. “As you wish.” I said softly. Vivian thought I’d surrendered and curved her lips with satisfaction. But just as she turned to leave, she suddenly let out a sharp scream, pointing at me with fury on her face. “My necklace! You stole my necklace!” Her shrill cry instantly attracted Adrian, who had just walked over. Vivian threw herself into Adrian’s arms, crying. “Adrian, that’s the only memento my mother left me! It was fine just now, but after talking to Scarlett for a few moments, it disappeared!” Adrian’s gaze instantly turned icy. He rushed over and grabbed my wrist-the one with the unhealed fracture. “Why would you do this?!” He demanded harshly, his eyes filled with complete disgust and disappointment. Pain drained the color from my face. Searing pain shot through my wrist as the bones shifted. I said, word by word. “I didn’t steal it.” “Didn’t steal?” Vivian peeked out from his embrace, crying. “Adrian, search her bag. It must be in there!” Without hesitation, Adrian roughly seized my purse with his other hand and dumped everything onto the ground. Lipstick, keys, tissues, and a plane ticket to Zurich for next week scattered across the pavement. Finally, with a crisp clink, a platinum necklace fell from the bag. Caught red-handed. The last trace of warmth vanished from Adrian’s eyes. He didn’t even look at the plane ticket, mistaking it for trash, and crushed it beneath his foot. “Scarlett, you’ve disappointed me so much.” He released his grip and pulled the trembling, sobbing Vivian tightly into his arms, comforting her gently. His gaze toward me turned cruel. “Find your own way back.” With that, he carried Vivian to the car and drove away. Abandoning me alone in this torrential downpour at a suburban estate. Cold rain pounded against my body. I stood motionless, letting the rain soak me through. I slowly crouched down and picked up the ticket from the muddy water, covered in footprints. Alone in the desolate rainy night, I walked with difficulty for a long time before finally catching a ride. When I returned to the villa, I was soaked through and running a high fever. I collapsed onto the bed and fell into a feverish sleep. The next day, I was awakened by the commotion in the living room downstairs. Leaning against the wall, I struggled downstairs. Several movers were carrying suitcases into the living room. Those suitcases belonged to Vivian. Adrian stood in the center of the living room. Seeing me, his face showed no trace of guilt-only cold warning. “Vivian will be moving in from now on.” “Scarlett, I’m warning you-behave yourself. Don’t try any more tricks.” I nodded. I looked at this man I’d devoted three years to, watched another woman about to move into this home, and replied softly. “I won’t.”

Scarlett’s POV Vivian officially moved in. The villa filled with her laughter, her perfume scent, every trace of her. I became the superfluous person in this home. I witnessed firsthand Adrian’s meticulous care for Vivian. When she casually mentioned wanting cake, Adrian would immediately drive across half the city to buy it. When she frowned and said she was bored, Adrian would cancel multimillion-dollar contracts to spend the entire day watching mindless TV shows with her. These were treatments I hadn’t dared imagine in three years. So he did know how to be tender-his tenderness just never belonged to me. My heart had gone numb. I spent each day in my room, reading, researching, planning my life after leaving. Until that afternoon. I went downstairs for water and inadvertently saw Vivian in Adrian’s study. In her hands, she was playing with a bracelet. It was a diamond bracelet-a relic from Adrian’s late grandmother and his most treasured possession. For three years, he’d hardly been separated from it. Without thinking, I rushed in. “Put it down!” Seeing my alarm, a flash of malicious light crossed Vivian’s eyes. Not only did she not put it down, she deliberately tossed it in her hands. “Adrian said as long as I like something, he’ll give me anything. It’s just a bracelet. Look how nervous you are.” With that, she flicked her wrist, pretending to lose her grip. The bracelet fell heavily to the floor. The expensive diamonds immediately scattered. One of them even cracked from the impact, a clear fissure visible. Adrian arrived at the sound. When he saw the mess on the floor and that cracked diamond, his face instantly turned iron-gray. Vivian immediately changed her expression, pointing at me accusingly first. “Adrian, it’s not my fault! Scarlett rushed in and insisted on grabbing the bracelet from me. That’s why I accidentally broke it!” I watched her clumsy performance and said only one sentence. “The study has surveillance cameras.” Vivian’s face went pale. She immediately adopted a pitiful look, admitting it was her carelessness and offering to compensate with money. Adrian’s anger vanished the moment Vivian admitted fault. He didn’t even glance at the diamonds on the floor. Instead, he quickly walked to Vivian’s side, nervously lifting her wrist. “Are you hurt?” I stood aside, watching this scene, feeling my heart hollowed out by an invisible hand. I crouched down and began picking up the scattered diamonds one by one. The cold diamonds rolled across my fingertips. I found the cracked one. I remembered. Three years ago, Adrian’s mother accidentally lost this bracelet. Adrian, with his still-unhealed body, went mad searching for it in the pouring rain that night, sitting in his wheelchair in the garden for half the night. In the end, it was I who accompanied him, drenched in torrential rain, hands frozen red, finally finding this treasure in the muddy soil. Back then, he’d clutched the recovered bracelet in his palm, the treasure in his eyes as if it were his entire world. And now. His most precious possession had been deliberately broken by Vivian, yet he didn’t care-only concerned whether she’d hurt her hand. I picked up the last diamond, along with the cracked one, and held them in my palm. I stood and walked before Adrian, opening my hand. “Your things.” My voice held no ripple. Adrian frowned, seemingly impatient that I was interrupting his comforting of Vivian. He casually took the diamonds without even looking and put them straight into his pocket. Then he placed his hand on Vivian’s shoulder, saying gently. “It’s fine now. Don’t be scared. If it’s broken, we’ll just buy another.” I looked at him, finally giving up completely. Adrian, I truly won’t love you anymore.

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At the company’s new product launch, I stood as Vice President to deliver the speech. “This phone’s camera function is incredibly powerful. Even from three miles away, it can capture a person’s face with perfect clarity.” The entire venue erupted in uproar. Someone questioned skeptically: “That’s impossible. This technology is currently beyond what anyone in the world can achieve.” “If STAR, as a rising tech company, wants people to believe them, they need to show actual results.” I nodded. “Of course. Please look at the big screen.” The next second, images of my wife and the sales manager entering and leaving a love hotel appeared on the large screen. In the photo, Betty’s features were extraordinarily clear. Even the color of her eyeshadow was visible in perfect detail. I began to explain the photo in detail. “Everyone should recognize the people in this photo. On the left is my wife, Betty, who is also the CEO of STAR Tech.” “As for the one on the right, that’s our company’s sales manager, Paul.” People exchanged glances. The venue had fallen so silent you could hear a pin drop. “I took this photo from the STAR Tech building.” “The distance to the hotel is exactly three miles.” Many people glanced toward the corner. A flash of panic crossed Betty’s face before it gradually turned cold. In contrast, Paul beside her quickly stood up to defend himself. “Alex, are you deliberately trying to ruin me?” “Betty and I are completely innocent!” I raised an eyebrow and asked with a smile, “When did I ever say there was something going on between you two?” Paul was instantly speechless, while Betty beside him wore a dark expression. She stood up and asked me, “Alex, by showing this photo publicly, aren’t you just accusing Paul and me?” “If you have something to say, say it openly.” “There’s no need to play these petty games behind people’s backs.” Seeing she remained calm, I continued speaking. “You’re right. I do want to take this opportunity to ask clearly what your purpose was that day.” Many people sensed the atmosphere turning awkward. But they all showed expressions of watching drama unfold, enjoying the spectacle at the scene. Some even started making comments. “Could this be some new type of marketing stunt?” “If so, they’re really going all out.” “I don’t think it’s real either. Probably just trying to trend online.” But Betty explained without batting an eye, “What a coincidence. We were also planning to test the product’s performance at the hotel that day.” “It’s just that your results look better.” If I hadn’t obtained solid evidence beforehand, I wouldn’t have believed it either. That the woman I’d loved for five years would go behind my back to a love hotel with the product manager. When I first captured this, I briefly doubted I’d identified the wrong person. However, the company’s new product’s main feature was ultra-long-distance high-definition photography. Never mind facial features—you could even see the pores. Paul quickly chimed in, “That’s right, Betty and I were indeed testing the new product!” Just when everyone thought I would fly into a rage over this. I calmly raised my hand, signaling them not to be nervous. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Testing a new product at a love hotel? Paul, if you like Betty, just tell me directly. I can file for divorce that same day. After that, even if you two sleep your way through every love hotel in America, it’s none of my business.” Paul’s face turned deathly pale as he shook his head frantically. He began shouting his innocence to the surrounding crowd, “Everything I said is true! You have to believe me!” I knew he wouldn’t admit it because he cared about his reputation. And his real objective hadn’t been achieved yet. My public exposure had completely disrupted his entire plan. Betty, wearing high heels, quickly strode onto the stage to confront me. “Alex, do you have no idea how you even got into this company in the first place?” “Without my family’s support, could you have what you have today?” “Now that you’ve grown wings, you want to use these filthy tricks to kick me aside, is that it?!” I smiled as I answered her. “Yes, that’s right. I do plan to kick you out. Either divest your shares, or give me fifty million in cash. Choose one.”

Betty froze for a moment, then instead of getting angry, she laughed. Her eyes were full of disdain for me. She deliberately raised her voice so everyone in the venue could hear clearly. “Alex, what the hell is wrong with you today?” “I won’t choose either of those options!” She paused, then took a step forward. Her tone carried a threat. “By the way, do you know this launch event is being livestreamed?” “Making a scene like this in front of so many people—do you have any idea how much damage you’re causing STAR?” I watched her deliberately change the subject and sneered inwardly. But my face remained calm as I went along with her words. “Of course I know it’s livestreamed.” “I also know that right now, five million people are watching in the stream.” “Perfect timing for them to witness this. I, Alex, take responsibility for every word I’ve said today.” The whispers in the venue turned into loud discussions. Those who had connections with Betty’s family or had received favors from them immediately stood up, pointing and gossiping about me. “STAR Company got where it is today precisely because Betty’s family supported it. What you’re doing is really underhanded!” “Exactly! A man who relies on his wife doesn’t even have this basic awareness?” “Got rich through his wife, and now he wants to bite back.” “Betty’s family is really unlucky. How did they raise such an ungrateful wretch!” Over the years, I’d encountered countless taunts and had long grown accustomed to them. I looked past this crowd and focused my gaze back on Betty. “Have you decided? Which option will you choose?” Betty stared at me with an expression that shifted between light and dark. Then she reached out and snatched the microphone from my hand, shouting. “Get lost!” “From this moment on, you’re no longer the Vice President of STAR Tech.” “STAR no longer has anything to do with you!” Watching her hysterical appearance, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because I’d anticipated all of this. I slowly pulled out a divorce agreement I’d prepared long ago from my pocket. “Since you won’t choose to divest, that means you’re choosing to give me fifty million.” “Sign it.” Betty asked me in disbelief, “You had this prepared all along?” “Won’t you be satisfied until everyone knows about this, until you’ve ruined me and ruined the company?” “I’ll say it one more time—there’s absolutely nothing going on between Paul and me!” I waved my hand, indicating she didn’t need to explain anymore. My tone also carried a hint of impatience. “We’re all adults here. There’s no need for these excuses.” “You just need to pay for your decisions.” Seeing she still wanted to argue, I leaned closer and whispered a reminder in her ear with a smile. “You don’t actually think I only prepared one photo, do you?” “If you want more evidence, no problem. Today I’ll make you satisfied.” “I’ll let everyone appreciate your explicit photos too.” As I spoke, I turned around, intending to grab the remote control, but Betty desperately blocked me. She panicked, glanced at the venue, then questioned me in a low voice. “What exactly are you trying to do?” “Don’t forget, STAR belongs to my family. My father built it up. What right do you have to do this?!” Then she raised the microphone and apologized to everyone. “Today our launch event has encountered a small issue. The livestream ends here.” “Please give us a bit more time. We’ll give you an explanation later.” Having said that, regardless of everyone’s reaction, she immediately shouted to the company security at the foot of the stage. “You guys, throw him out.” “From now on, don’t let him set foot in STAR ever again!” Some security guards wanted to take action but were stopped by their captain. Betty was trembling with rage. “I gave you your job! Do you want to disobey orders?!” What no one expected was that the security captain simply bowed to her and spoke slowly. “I’m sorry, Betty. We don’t have that authority.”

Betty’s body stiffened, as if she’d misheard. Her voice was trembling, mixed with anger. “You… what did you say?” “I’m giving you an order to throw this man out, and you’re telling me you don’t have the authority?” The security captain still shook his head, his tone firm, without the slightest waver. “That’s right. We truly don’t have that authority.” Not only was Betty stunned, but everyone present was stunned. Everyone knew that behind STAR Tech was Betty’s family. Betty was the eldest daughter and STAR’s CEO. Her word was law in the company. How could such a situation possibly arise? Betty quickly recovered and said through gritted teeth to the security captain. “Are you trying to rebel?” “Believe it or not, I’ll fire you right now and make sure you can’t work in this industry anymore?” Watching her bully even the security guard while acting so imperious. I couldn’t help but interrupt. “Enough. Does making a working person’s life difficult give you a sense of superiority?” “Or can you just not understand human speech?” No one expected me to be so assertive. In the past, I’d always restrained myself in front of her. Everyone thought I was afraid of her, but now I dared to publicly humiliate her. So quite a few people whispered privately. “Has Alex lost his mind? How dare he talk to Betty like that? Isn’t he afraid she’ll settle scores with him?” “With Betty’s family’s power, crushing him would be easy.” “I think he’s probably desperate, trying to make a big score while he has this chance.” “This kind of person is terrifying. Betty’s family kindly gave him a hand back then, and he repays kindness with enmity.” Betty seized the opportunity, wanting to use public opinion to ensure I could never recover. She raised the microphone, her tone filled with grievance. “Everyone saw it, right?” “How did my family treat him back then?” “We gave him our hearts, even made an exception to let him join the company leadership, giving him opportunities others could only dream of.” “But what about him? Now he’s turning around to bite us, trying to take over STAR!” Watching her perform so emotionally, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You can play the victim if you want, but be careful about shooting yourself in the foot.” Betty’s face darkened as she looked at me with contempt. “Are you completely shameless now?” Seeing I remained unmoved, she panicked. “If security won’t throw you out, I’ll call the police!” She pulled out her phone, her fingers swiping rapidly. I replied unhurriedly, “Go ahead and call them. I don’t mind.” Betty was so flustered by my response she couldn’t speak, trembling with rage. She pointed at me, struggling for a long time before managing to squeeze out one word: “You!” At that moment, the launch venue’s main door was suddenly pushed open, and urgent footsteps echoed. Betty’s parents rushed toward us. Seeing her parents appear. Betty acted as if she’d found a lifeline and immediately put away the anger on her face. She replaced it with a pitiful expression as she rushed toward them. “Dad, Mom, you’re finally here!” She grabbed her mother’s hand, her eyes brimming with tears. “Alex is an ungrateful wretch. He wants to take over STAR and publicly bullied and humiliated me.” “You have to get revenge for me!” She cried while making accusations. She portrayed herself as utterly wronged, pushing all the blame onto me. But before she could finish speaking, her mother Laurence suddenly raised her hand and slapped her across the face! The slap caught Betty completely off guard. It was fast and hard. The sound was especially jarring in the quiet venue. Betty covered her face with wide eyes, completely stunned. But Laurence pointed at her and angrily rebuked. “Shut up! If you don’t speak, no one will think you’re mute!”

Laurence’s slap landed solidly on her daughter’s face. Betty, who had been crying moments ago, had her tears instantly knocked back. She covered her face with her mouth open, unable to speak for a long time, her eyes full of disbelief. I stood to the side, also secretly surprised. I knew Laurence too well. She usually cherished Betty like the apple of her eye. She wouldn’t even say a harsh word to her, yet today she struck so hard. In contrast, her father Anderson’s face was ashen as he pointed at his daughter and angrily shouted. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?!” “The way we spoil you at home—look at yourself today! Is this acceptable?” Betty finally snapped out of it and screamed at her parents. “What did I do wrong? Why are you hitting me?!” “He’s the one trying to steal our family’s assets, trying to seize STAR!” “If STAR gets taken by him, our family is finished! Why don’t you understand?!” She became more agitated as she spoke, tears flowing again, her tone full of grievance and unwillingness. But even with all her crying and defending, the old couple remained unmoved. They exchanged glances, and Laurence was the first to force a smile at me—very stiff, but her tone was gentle. “Alex, you’ve really been wronged today.” I smiled faintly. “Wronged isn’t quite the word. I just don’t want any more involvement with her.” The crowd had long been confused by this dramatic turn of events. A friend who had a good relationship with Anderson couldn’t help but step forward. “Anderson, aren’t you being too hasty?” “What Betty said actually isn’t wrong.” Anderson sighed helplessly, his tone vague. “You don’t understand the situation. Don’t interfere.” His words, openly and subtly, meant he didn’t want outsiders meddling in their family affairs. He even tried to get everyone to leave, clearly not wanting to air their dirty laundry in public. “Don’t do that, Mr. Anderson.” “My innocence hasn’t been cleared yet. If everyone leaves, who will testify for me?” Anderson’s expression turned ugly. He lowered his voice, his tone pleading. “Alex, I’m begging you.” “Whatever we need to discuss, we can talk about it privately as a family. There’s no need to make it known to everyone.” “This isn’t good for anyone. It’s inappropriate.” I looked at him and asked indifferently. “What’s inappropriate about it?” “I gave you a chance back then. You didn’t treasure it and missed it.” “What does that have to do with me?” Hearing this, Laurence’s expression darkened. “Alex, what more do you want?” “I hit my daughter, I scolded her. This matter should be settled now. Don’t push your luck!” I sneered inwardly. Did they think that hitting their daughter once and scolding her a couple of times could offset everything? That it would make me let it go? I slowly shook my head and reminded them word by word. “Some things aren’t settled just because you say so.” Betty was already full of anger to begin with. With my comment, she instantly exploded. “Alex, don’t push your luck!” “I’ll settle this score with you sooner or later!” I looked at her stubborn appearance and suddenly found it rather laughable. Five years—what exactly had I married? “You were deceived. Do you know that?” Betty sneered. “What was I deceived about?” “Oh, I was deceived all right, but the one who deceived me is you, Alex!” “Don’t try to confuse the issue here!” I was too lazy to waste more words with her. I looked toward the corner, at Paul who was trying to sneak away. He’d just taken a phone call and his face had instantly turned deathly pale. He kept his head down and had only taken two steps when I called out to him. “Don’t rush off. Come here, let’s talk.” Hearing my voice, Paul’s whole body stiffened. He hesitated for a long time, not even daring to turn his head back. Betty panicked and blocked Paul, speaking up for him. “Alex, this is between the two of us. It has nothing to do with him!” “What do you want with him?” I looked at her protective behavior and a meaningful smile curved my lips. “You’re not stupid. You’re genuinely foolish.” “How dare you insult me?!” Betty wanted to continue her outburst but I interrupted her. “Are you sure this really has nothing to do with him?” Betty’s eyes flickered, clearly hesitant, but she still stubbornly replied. “That’s right, it has nothing to do with him. Come at me if you have any issues!” The old couple panicked and pulled their daughter back, trying to stop her from speaking. But Betty seemed to have lost her mind. She broke free from her parents’ hands and shouted at me again. “Do you have anything else to say?!” But the moment her words fell, two uniformed police officers burst in, their expressions serious, walking straight toward Paul.

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On the night of our wedding reception, my wife Sophia was secretly having sex with her first love in the changing room. I happened to be in the room next door. I heard every word, every sound, crystal clear. “Scott, this is my first time. It’s the only thing I can give you. Enjoy it!” Then came my wife’s moans of pleasure. I was about to kick down the changing room door and beat that man to a pulp. But then Sophia said something that chilled me to the bone. “Scott, let me compensate you with a baby too!” “Scott, let me compensate you with a baby! He loves me so much, he’d never suspect a thing!” Hearing this, I realized any argument would be pointless. I turned and quickly left the wedding venue. Just as I reached the parking lot, it started pouring rain. I drove far away before pulling over to the side of the road. I stared blankly out the car window, a bitter smile twisting my lips. I reached into the car and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I’d quit smoking years ago. Sophia hated the smell of smoke, so I quit the day we got together. Now the car filled with choking smoke. I coughed until tears came to my eyes, and finally I couldn’t hold back anymore and broke down crying. All I could think about was Sophia’s seductive moaning. I never knew she had such a wild side. She was calling someone “baby” with such excitement—but it wasn’t me. It was her first love. Three years together. I’d wanted to be intimate with her countless times. But Sophia said she couldn’t accept premarital sex, so every time I held myself back. I never imagined she was saving the most beautiful moment for our wedding day—but giving it to another man. For three years, I worked myself to the bone to give her the best material life. I did all the housework, tolerated all her bad moods, and spoiled her like a princess. And she stabbed me right through the heart! It was all self-deception. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. The pain made it hard to breathe. I finally saw the truth. Sophia didn’t love me. In that moment, I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I buried my face against the steering wheel and let out agonized sobs. I sat there until dark. Then Sophia called. I hesitated, but hung up. She called again and again. Finally I just threw my phone aside and let it ring. Eventually the ringing stopped, replaced by message notifications. I opened them. Voice messages from Sophia. “Where the hell did you go! Tonight’s our wedding night and you’re not even coming home?” I laughed bitterly to myself. So she remembered tonight was supposed to be our wedding night! I looked up at the night sky through the car window, feeling cold despair spreading through my chest. Sophia quickly sent a second message. “Coleman, are you out hooking up with some old flame you can’t forget on our wedding night!” But she was the one hooking up with someone else on our wedding night! She betrayed me, and now she was turning it around on me. I actually laughed out loud in anger. On the other end, Sophia heard my laughter and started cursing: “You dare to laugh! You have ten minutes to get your ass back here and apologize! Otherwise this marriage is over!” I forced down my rage and said coldly: “You already spent your wedding night with someone else. Why do you need me?” Sophia didn’t respond. I smiled bitterly. If she didn’t love me, then I’d let her have her first love. “Sophia, let’s get divorced. Tomorrow morning at nine, I’ll wait for you at City Hall.” This time, Sophia responded quickly. “Coleman, I just made a little mistake that any woman might make. Can’t you be more generous? I married you, didn’t I? What more do you want?” My heart clenched painfully. Tears fell again despite myself. On our wedding night, wearing her white wedding dress, wearing the ring I gave her, she went behind my back to the changing room at our wedding venue and gave her virginity to another man. And now she was questioning what more I could possibly want! I couldn’t take it anymore. I clenched my fists and pounded the steering wheel furiously. After venting, I still decided to go back. Divorce needed to be settled face to face. Just as I reached the building, I bumped into a man in the hallway who was whistling and dressed flashily. I wasn’t paying attention and stepped on his foot. He jumped up high, howling. “Are you fucking blind! Watch where you’re going! These are my brand new wedding shoes and you just dirtied them. Pay up!” I was in a low mood, running a high fever from the rain, in no state to deal with this kind of sleazy punk. “How much? I’ll pay what they’re worth.” I asked quietly, pulling out my phone to scan and pay him. Seeing I was cooperative, the man looked me up and down. “These shoes are genuine imported leather, real expensive! This won’t be settled without five thousand bucks!” I laughed at myself bitterly. Even trash like this was bullying me now. Did I really seem that easy to push around? Everyone wanted to take advantage of me! When the man unlocked his phone screen, I saw it was on Ins. The most recent post at the top was from Sophia!

I checked my own phone—I hadn’t seen this post. She’d blocked me. I grabbed his phone to look closer. Yes, it was definitely her. Just one line: “Body and heart given to my true love, companionship left for the one who loves me!” The attached photo showed her intertwined with her first love. Though it was only their backs, I recognized her immediately. He snatched the phone back, cursing: “What’s your problem!” I looked at the furious scumbag in front of me—the first love from the photo. Sophia had actually brought him back to our marital home and screwed him in our wedding bed! I punched the man in the face. We quickly started fighting. My rage needed an outlet. I soon had him on the ground, face covered in blood. He grabbed his phone, threatening to call the police. “I’m telling you, this won’t end without a hundred grand!” “All my money is with Sophia. Go ask her for it.” I walked straight upstairs. The man cursed something and ran off. I opened the door. Sophia, sitting in the living room, rushed over and slapped me hard across the face. Already drenched from the rain, I felt dizzy from the blow, my ears ringing. Not satisfied with just the slap, Sophia grabbed a vase from the entrance table and smashed it against my head. Hot blood immediately ran down from my temple. I grunted in pain. “Are you stupid? Don’t you know how to dodge? Coleman, don’t think getting hurt means I’ll let this go. Who are you to talk about divorce with me? If anyone’s dumping anyone, I’m dumping you!” Sophia looked coldly at the blood flowing down my head, not a trace of concern in her eyes. “Coleman, I’m already legally married to you. You won. He can never compete with you. The only thing I could compensate him with was my first time! You’re the one who’ll spend a lifetime with me. You’re not really going to make a big deal over something this small, are you? Are you even a man!” Her voice got louder and louder, ending in uncontrollable anger. As if I were the one in the wrong, and she was generously forgiving me. I laughed coldly, casually wiping the blood from my face with the back of my hand. Seeing I wasn’t responding, Sophia got even angrier and tried to hit me again. I grabbed her wrist and shoved her aside. She stumbled and nearly fell, staring at me in disbelief: “Coleman, you dare to push me!” This was the first time I’d turned on her in three years together. I’d never even raised my voice to her before. My sudden change in attitude was hard for Sophia to accept. She picked up glass shards from the floor and stabbed at me like a madwoman. “Bastards like you need to be put in your place! Let’s see how I teach you a lesson today! Coleman, you’re just a useless piece of trash. I’ve suffered through three miserable years with you, I’m sick of you! The more I look at you, the more disgusting you are!” “You want a divorce? Fine, let’s divorce! At least I won’t have to force myself not to feel sick every night when you hold me! Coleman, you’re the one who wanted this divorce. Don’t you dare regret it!” After speaking, Sophia grabbed her phone and stormed out. I stood there, clearly hearing her call her first love outside the door, telling him to come pick her up. I couldn’t suppress my rage anymore. I punched the door hard, making a huge sound. Three years. I never knew that in Sophia’s heart, I was disgusting trash!

She enjoyed all the good I gave her while despising me at the same time. I respected her feelings and never touched her, not even with a finger. So many nights I endured the desire, just waiting for our wedding day when she would finally truly belong to me. But in the end, I became a joke! She trampled on my sincere love like this. I wanted to tear her apart with my own hands, then end myself. But I couldn’t. I still had my parents. They loved me so much. How could I bear to make my elderly parents worry about me? I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken they’d be if they knew Sophia—whom they loved like their own daughter—was this kind of person. Thinking of this, already running a high fever from the rain, I couldn’t take the shock anymore and collapsed to the floor. My last conscious thought was that the back of my thigh hurt terribly. I must have been pierced by glass shards on the floor. But compared to that, my heart hurt more. I don’t know how long I was unconscious. When I opened my eyes again, I felt completely drained. Sharp pain came from the back of my thigh. I reached down and felt a long, thin glass shard embedded deep in the flesh. There was a large pool of blood on the floor. I tried to stand up but my legs gave out. Between the blood loss and high fever, all my strength seemed to have been drained away. I leaned against the wall and slowly stood up. Even this small movement made me break out in cold sweat. I gritted my teeth and yanked out the glass shard with force, throwing it on the floor. Then I was shocked by the bloody footprints on the ground. From the direction of the footprints, I could tell Sophia had walked right past me. She completely ignored me lying unconscious in a pool of blood. Then I noticed there was even a bloody footprint on my pants. Sophia must have found me lying on the floor in her way and kicked me. What chilled me even more was that besides her bloody footprints, there was another larger set—clearly a man’s! While I was unconscious, Sophia had actually brought her first love back here! I leaned weakly against the wall and laughed bitterly. The laughter turned to tears. The woman I loved with my life ignored whether I lived or died. Even if you saw an injured dog on the street, you’d feel some compassion, wouldn’t you? Let alone for a husband who loved her for three years! In that moment, my heart felt like it was being cut by knives. My throat was dry and painful, my voice trembling as I whispered to myself: “Sophia, I’ll never love you again.” Dragging my sick and injured body, following the bloody footprints, I limped into the bedroom. Seeing the bedroom in complete disarray, like it had been robbed, my vision went black and I nearly passed out again. All the cabinets in the bedroom were open. All the valuables and bank cards were gone. The scene before me made me unable to suppress my rage anymore. My heart clenched painfully, as if gripped by an invisible hand, making it impossible to breathe. The feelings I’d sincerely invested for three whole years—fed to the dogs. I never imagined that three years of love would lose to a suddenly appearing first love. For her first love, she could bear to treat me this way. I was the world’s biggest fool! I fell onto the bed, gasping for air, trying to ease the discomfort in my chest. The phone in the living room rang at that moment. I’d set special ringtones for Sophia and my parents. This call was from my mom. Enduring the pain in my thigh, I quickly walked to the living room and answered. As soon as I picked up, my mom’s anxious voice came through: “Coleman, you finally answered! Mom was so worried!” My mom’s voice was tearful. She was clearly frantic. I exited the call screen and saw that while I was unconscious, my mom and dad had each called me many times. What could have them so worried? “Mom, don’t panic! Tell me slowly what happened.” But what my mom said next shocked me completely. I never would have imagined that in such a short time, Sophia could do something like this!

My mom on the other end of the line heard I was home and paused for a few seconds before speaking. “Coleman, Sophia just came over covered in blood, saying you’d been in a car accident and needed emergency money!” But I was right here at home. My mom realized something was wrong too and asked what had happened between Sophia and me. In their hearts, they still didn’t want to believe Sophia would deceive them. But that was the reality. Sophia had brought her first love back to our marital home and taken all the valuables. Then she ran to my parents, claiming I’d been in a serious car accident and needed money to save my life. The blood on her was actually from my injuries. Sophia had scammed my parents out of their savings and even taken the property deed they were keeping safe. When we bought our marital home, my parents paid for it in full, and the house was registered under both my and Sophia’s names. After we got the property certificate, Sophia had voluntarily left it with my parents for safekeeping. Now she’d schemed to get the deed back, but she couldn’t sell the house privately without my signature as co-owner. She’d need my signature to get a bank mortgage loan too. As expected, Sophia had taken it to a real estate agent for a private collateral loan. After reassuring my parents and telling them I’d handle everything, I hung up. I immediately called a friend at the property office to check. Sure enough, an hour ago, Sophia had mortgaged our marital home to a guarantee company that worked with the agent. At that moment, my head was splitting, my fever wouldn’t break, and my leg wound kept bleeding with every movement. I couldn’t afford to settle scores with Sophia first. I rushed to the cabinet to find the medicine box. The moment I opened it, rage surged through me. The medicine box was empty! Just how much did Sophia want me dead! She watched me collapse from blood loss and did nothing. She even destroyed my only chance to save myself. I laughed coldly. I clearly remembered my phone was on the sofa before I passed out. But just now I found it on the highest wall cabinet in the living room. If the phone hadn’t rung, I wouldn’t have known how long it would take to find it. I walked to the door and tried the handle. As I suspected, it was locked from the outside. At this point, even the last bit of love I had for Sophia had vanished. Now, my heart was filled with hatred. I didn’t want to alarm my parents and have them bring the spare key. These bloodstains everywhere would terrify them. I contacted the property management and a locksmith, then sat down on the floor to rest. After calming down, I called Sophia. The phone rang for a while before she answered. “Coleman, you’re not dead yet! What, we’re getting divorced and you’re still calling me?” Her voice carried suppressed pain, her speech broken and intermittent. I could even hear a man’s panting over the phone. No need to guess what she was doing right now. “If you have something to say, say it quick! I’m busy right now!” Sophia urged. Hearing these sounds again, I didn’t feel the heartache I felt last time. Instead, I found it amusing. “Then I’ll wait until you’re done!” I was about to hang up when Sophia stopped me. “Don’t hang up! He says this makes it more exciting. I think so too. I’ve already switched positions, it won’t interfere with our call!” She suddenly cried out “Ah!” then said, “Scott, be gentle, you’re hurting me!” I didn’t hang up. Fortunately, I’d turned on call recording. This evidence delivered right to my doorstep—how could I refuse? Plus there was a free explicit audio performance to listen to. I couldn’t help cheering them on. Maybe my encouragement deflated Sophia’s first love. He finished hastily. Sophia blamed me for ruining her fun and asked if I wanted to back out. “Coleman, divorce is non-negotiable! It’s no use even if you change your mind!” I scoffed. “Sophia, do you know that right now, you’re not even as good as a whore in a nightclub in my eyes? You should know why I’m calling. I advise you to return what you shouldn’t have taken as soon as possible. Otherwise you’ll regret it!” Sophia and her first love thought they were so clever, taking all the assets. But their cleverness backfired. They’d just given me the perfect reason to take it all back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “368269”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

The most celebrated man in New York, Gabriel Stone, fell deeply in love with me. A deaf woman. He learned sign language for me. To marry me, he even accepted his family’s punishment. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman. But when I recovered my hearing after surgery and excitedly wanted to tell him the good news, I overheard him talking to his ex-girlfriend outside his study. “Marry her? It was just to make you jealous.” It turned out our three-year marriage was a lie from start to finish. Jane’s POV The most celebrated man in New York, Gabriel Stone, fell in love with me. A deaf woman. For me, he learned sign language from scratch. He set off fireworks for three nights straight under the night sky. He used over ten thousand drones at the harbor to publicly declare his love. He even planted my favorite orchids all around the mansion where he lived. When he proposed to marry me, everyone thought he’d lost his mind. The Stone family was furious. “Jane is disabled. Have your fun if you must, but she is not welcome in our home.” But he remained stubborn and left them with one sentence: “I will marry no one but Jane.” To marry me, this typically reckless but privileged man willingly accepted punishment-he was whipped ninety-nine times, leaving his back a bloody mess. Watching him lose consciousness from blood loss and get rushed to the hospital, my heart finally melted. Even though Gabriel never minded my disability and insisted on marrying me, I always felt inferior deep down, believing there was an insurmountable gap between us. Fortunately, after three years of persistent treatment, I finally recovered my hearing through surgery. The day I was discharged, I couldn’t contain my excitement and rushed home, wanting to tell him the good news in person. But just as I reached the study, I heard him on a call. “Gabriel, have you really fallen for Jane?” He laughed carelessly. “Everyone in New York knows how deeply I love her.” “Enough. You can fool others but not me. I don’t believe you could love her.” “Claire, three years ago when you rejected my proposal and insisted on breaking up to go abroad, didn’t I tell you you’d better not regret it?” Hearing the name “Claire,” my whole body stiffened. Few people knew that I lost my hearing because of a car accident. And the person responsible was Claire. She hit me while drunk driving and speeding in the wrong lane, then left me bleeding in the street. So… the person who caused my disability was Gabriel’s ex-girlfriend? On the phone, Claire laughed coldly. “I knew it. You deliberately pursued this disabled woman, made it a public spectacle, and endured punishment to marry her. All just to spite me.” Gabriel bit down on his cigarette, his expression half-mocking. “So what if I did?” Claire took a deep breath. “You succeeded. I mind Jane’s existence. Divorce her, and I’ll get back together with you.” Gabriel laughed lazily. “Why should I divorce her for you?” “Gabriel!” “You think you can break up whenever you want and get back together whenever you want? Am I your dog, coming when you call and going when you dismiss me?” “I’ve already come back. Whether you want to get back together or not is up to you!” The call was cut off. Gabriel cursed under his breath. Outside the door, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice pit, trembling uncontrollably. My relationship with him began with a fire. Three years ago, he was drunk at a club when his enemies took the opportunity to set it on fire, trapping him in a private room. Just as he was about to die, I rushed into the flames and saved him. Gabriel fell for me at first sight because of that. After we married, he was impeccable toward me, fulfilling all my wishes, indulging my every request, spoiling me to the point where everyone envied me. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman. But it turned out… he never loved me at all? He went through all that trouble to marry me just to make his ex-girlfriend jealous? How absurd. “Mrs. Stone, why are you standing here?” A servant’s voice suddenly rang out. Gabriel whipped his head around and saw me standing outside the door. Panic flashed in his eyes. But noticing I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids, he relaxed, stubbed out his cigarette, and signed fluently. “When did you get back? Why are you standing outside without making a sound?” I didn’t answer, just looked at him quietly. He walked over, pulled me into his arms with heartache in his eyes, and gently touched my face. “Who bullied you? Tell me, I’ll get revenge for you.” I moved my lips, about to tell him I could hear now, that I’d heard everything he said to Claire. But his phone suddenly rang. After reading the message, his expression changed drastically. He hurriedly signed to me. “I have an emergency. I need to go out. Be good and eat dinner. Don’t wait for me.” Before I could react, he was already striding away. I caught a glimpse of the sender: Claire. I quietly followed him. Eventually, outside a hotel private room, I saw Gabriel drag Claire out. He grabbed her chin and demanded. “Claire, you actually dared to kiss another man?” “Who I kiss is none of your business. Why did you rush over here in such a rage?” “Say that again. I dare you.” “I’ll say it as many times as you want! I’m single, you’re married. I can kiss whoever I want.” He angrily pressed her against the wall and lowered his head to kiss her. “Fine. I’m your damn dog. Let’s get back together, okay?” But Claire dodged his kiss and said proudly. “I won’t be a mistress or a side piece.” He deflated, saying helplessly. “I didn’t marry her.” Claire froze. “What?” I froze completely too. Then I heard him say. “The Stone family would never allow me to marry a disabled woman, so the marriage certificate she and I have is fake. Satisfied now?” Fake? Our marriage certificate… was fake? My mind buzzed. I felt like I’d fallen into hell. So all his love and devotion to me, including those marriage documents, were all carefully woven lies? For three years, he’d been playing me for a fool? Gabriel, was trampling on my genuine feelings fun for you? My chest felt like it was being violently torn apart. The pain was suffocating. Tears blurred my vision. I could no longer see clearly that couple pressed against the wall, kissing inseparably.

Jane’s POV I walked out of the hotel and stood on the street, watching the endless stream of cars on the road. Just as I was lost and didn’t know where to go, my phone buzzed with a notification. I didn’t pay attention to it. Before long, continuous messages bombarded my phone. “Sweetie, have you been going for your ear checkups regularly? What did the doctor say? How much longer until you recover?” “And your husband. He hasn’t made you suffer, has he?” “We miss you so much. When will you come back to see us? Or can we come visit you in New York?” “Talk to me, sweetie.” “Talk to me talk to me talk to me.” All these messages came from the same person. Looking at their concerned content, my chest ached, and my already blurred vision became even more blurry. I unlocked my phone and replied. “I promise I’ll come back.” The response came extremely fast. “Really? When?” “After I settle things here. Within two weeks.” “That’s wonderful! It’s a promise then!” I put my phone away and fought back tears. If my marriage was fake, at least I’d skip the divorce. But Claire caused my accident and my hearing loss. And Gabriel treated me like an idiot. I wasn’t about to let that go. Three days later, Gabriel finally came home. But he didn’t come back alone. Gabriel didn’t know my hearing had recovered yet. He took out his phone and typed for me to see. “This is my friend Claire. She just returned to the country and will be staying with us for a while.” Claire glanced at the text and sneered at him. “You call someone your friend but lock them in a hotel room for three days and nights?” With me present, Gabriel clearly felt guilty hearing this. But seeing I didn’t seem to be wearing my hearing aids, he relaxed again. Gabriel said with his back to me. “Jane can read some lips. Stop making a scene. We agreed-you’ll stay here as a friend first.” Claire turned her face away in displeasure. She wore a high-necked top, but I still caught glimpses of marks on her neck. I felt a bone-chilling cold, my heart aching like it was being carved with a knife. I should have known Gabriel had been with Claire these past few days, but I never imagined he’d brazenly bring her home. Not wanting to hear more hurtful words from them, I turned and went upstairs. Gabriel froze for a moment. Claire frowned. “What’s her attitude? She doesn’t welcome me?” Soon after, Gabriel came to the master bedroom on the second floor. Seeing me standing on the balcony, he picked up the hearing aids from the bedside table and walked over to put them on me. “Baby, are you angry because I haven’t been home these past few days?” Before, when he called me baby, I only felt happiness and sweetness. Now, all that remained was endless irony. Gabriel pulled me into his arms and said ingratiatingly. “It’s all my fault for being too busy and neglecting you. I apologize, okay?” He smelled of a woman’s perfume, making me feel nauseous. I pushed him away and asked knowingly. “What were you so busy with?” He smiled and said. “Work, of course. What else could it be?” I admired how he could still lie without changing his expression. Gabriel’s voice became even gentler. “I suddenly brought Claire back to stay. Are you unhappy about it?” I looked into his eyes. “Should I be happy?” Gabriel paused, then said with guilt. “It was wrong of me not to tell you beforehand. I’ll make it up to you. Don’t be angry, okay?” He intimately lifted my chin, trying to kiss me. Thinking about how he’d been with Claire these past days, how this mouth had kissed who knows where on her body, the nausea in my heart intensified.

Jane’s POV I raised my arm, blocking his descending kiss. Gabriel, who had never been rejected by me before, froze. I turned and walked away. “This is your house. Who you bring back to live here is your freedom.” At dinner, Gabriel kept showing concern for me. “You’ve lost weight lately. These are all your favorites. Have some more.” Claire sat across from us, watching him being so attentive to me. She kicked him under the table in displeasure. Gabriel looked up at her. Claire raised her chin. He sighed helplessly, using his eyes to signal her to stop making trouble. But Claire persisted, taking off her shoe under the table. Her toes traced up along his calf until they reached a sensitive area. Gabriel’s body stiffened. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes darkened, warning her to stop. But Claire smiled triumphantly and became even bolder in her provocation. I wasn’t stupid. How could I not see them exchanging glances, even flirting shamelessly under the table? The nausea churning in my stomach became unbearable. I abruptly put down my fork and knife. “I’m full. You two take your time.” Seeing me get up and leave the dining room, Gabriel panicked and tried to follow. “Jane…” Claire stopped him. “Are you going to comfort her, or stay here and keep me company for dinner?” Her face was cold. Gabriel was helpless with her and ultimately just had a servant bring some fruit up to my room. At ten o’clock that night, I came out of my home studio and happened to run into Gabriel just emerging from his study. He looked at me, seeming to want to say something but stopping himself. Finally, he said. “I have to work late tonight. Go to sleep first. Don’t wait for me.” I glanced at the phone in his hand. The screen was still lit, stopped on his chat interface with Claire. I said nothing and nodded, entering the master bedroom. In the middle of the night, I woke up thirsty. Out of habit, I reached toward the other side of the bed. It was empty and cold, without a trace of warmth. Clearly, Gabriel hadn’t come to this bedroom all night. I frowned and got up to get water downstairs. Passing by the study, I noticed light seeping from under the door. I was puzzled. Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard a woman’s moans coming from the adjacent room. My whole body stiffened. My face instantly went deathly pale. Gabriel’s voice came low. “Don’t moan so loud. Jane will hear.” Claire hummed softly. “What are you afraid of? She can’t hear. Besides, it’s because you’re too rough…” Gabriel chuckled. “I think you’re quite enjoying it though?” The room was filled with panting and the sounds of the bed. I didn’t need to think to know what they were doing. After a while, Claire asked breathlessly. “When do you plan to tell Jane about our relationship?” Gabriel was silent for a moment, his voice low. “Jane saved my life. Three years ago, if it weren’t for her, I might already be dead… At least I need to give her some mental preparation.” So he still remembered I saved him. Was this his way of repaying me? I never wanted to use that favor to bind him. Back then, I even felt inferior because of my hearing loss and rejected him. It was he who pursued me relentlessly, acting like I was the only one for him, finally winning me over. But now I learned it was all fake. He even wanted to continue deceiving me, having an affair with Claire right under my nose. This was his repayment? I pulled the corners of my mouth in self-mockery, turned off the recording on my phone, and silently turned to leave.

Jane’s POV My stomach had been upset for several days. I couldn’t eat anything. At first, I thought it was because Gabriel and Claire’s affair made me sick. Later, when my period was late, I hurried to the hospital for a checkup. “You’re pregnant, about four weeks.” The doctor told me. My mind went blank. “We used protection every time. How could I be pregnant?” The doctor explained. “Contraceptive measures aren’t one hundred percent effective. There are occasional accidents.” I stood there frozen, unable to believe I was pregnant with Gabriel’s child. The Stone family had always despised my disability. Gabriel also said he didn’t want children. Now I understood. He never planned to let me have his child. If that was the case, how was I supposed to carry on the Stone family line? God had other plans. On my way home, I was hit by a car. When I woke up again, the baby was gone. Just like that, without Gabriel knowing anything about it, I lost the child. I returned home weakly, wanting to go back to my room to rest, but found the door to my studio wide open. That was my private space. Even the servants couldn’t enter. Gabriel usually wouldn’t intrude either. Unease surged in my heart. I hurried inside and saw Claire standing there. The next second, I saw the shattered sculpture on the floor. “Sorry about that.” Claire smiled carelessly. “I just wanted to look at this sculpture. Didn’t expect it to be so heavy-I couldn’t hold it steady. You don’t mind, do you?” That was a work I’d spent countless days and nights completing. It had won first place in a sculpture competition and meant the world to me. Now it was a pile of fragments. Rage clouded my judgment. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. “Are you insane?” Claire screamed, covering her face. “Who gave you permission to come in? Who gave you permission to touch my things?” I was shaking with anger. Just as I was about to teach her another lesson, my wrist was suddenly grabbed. Gabriel rushed in and roared. “Jane! What the hell are you doing?” He violently shook off my hand. I staggered and fell to the ground, my forehead hitting the broken sculpture. Sharp pain made my vision darken. Warm liquid flowed down my cheek. “It’s just a broken sculpture.” Gabriel looked at me coldly. “Claire already apologized. Did you need to hit her?” A broken sculpture? I remembered on the day I won the award, he looked at me from the audience with admiring eyes. Later, he even held me and said he was proud of me, that I’d used my artistic talent to overcome my physical limitations. Now, compared to Claire, it had become just a broken sculpture. I watched Gabriel leave with his arm around Claire. Blood blurred my vision. Eventually, I passed out from exhaustion.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “368270”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf