Category: English

While I was trying on wedding dresses, my boyfriend, Ryan Sterling, told me he was too busy to join me. But then, I turned around and saw him in the bridal shop, helping another woman try on gowns. “This is Amelia Thorne, a neighbor I grew up with. She’s getting married soon too, so I’m just helping her pick out a dress.” I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t make a scene. I knew he disliked it when I did. Late that night, his phone rang. “Amelia’s fiancé suddenly ran off. I need to go check on her.” He ignored my pleas to stay and left, abandoning me, who was terrified of the dark, without a second thought. Twenty minutes later, he called. “Scarlett, I have to marry Amelia first. If she’s unmarried and pregnant, she’ll be shamed.” “She’ll divorce me after the baby is born. Our wedding will just be postponed by a year, that’s all.” If that’s how it is, then you go and marry your Amelia. I won’t wait. 1 “Ms. McKay, this gown looks absolutely stunning on you.” The bridal consultant gushed, practically climbing over herself to praise me, clearly desperate for me to choose their boutique. “Ms. McKay, when will the groom be joining us? Would he like to try on the matching tuxedo?” “He’s busy today, maybe another time,” I replied, trying to keep a cheerful facade. I’d called my fiancé, Ryan Sterling, several times, but he’d either said he was swamped or simply stopped answering. Changing into another gown at a different boutique, I emerged from the dressing room, only to hear Ryan’s voice. “Amelia, you look absolutely gorgeous in this dress.” That genuine, heartfelt praise… it had been so long since I’d heard anything like that from Ryan. He turned, seeing me, and his expression flickered, a complex mix I couldn’t quite decipher. “Ryan, you said you were busy. Who is this? Are you… trying on wedding dresses?” I kept my voice level, the anger and questions bubbling just beneath the surface. “This is Amelia Thorne, a neighbor I grew up with,” he explained, a little too quickly. “She’s also getting married soon, so I’m just helping her pick out a dress.” “You said you were swamped,” I pressed. “I just finished up, then came over. What, do you think I’m lying to you?” A few other customers and consultants started whispering, their eyes darting our way. “Just go home, Scarlett. I’ll explain everything later tonight.” I went home and waited, but he didn’t return until late evening. “I’m going to throw these clothes straight into the washer. They’re a bit dirty.” He always just tossed his dirty laundry on the sofa for me to deal with, but tonight, he was unusually particular. “I’m going to shower quickly, I’ll be right out.” I noticed the bareness of his neck and couldn’t help but ask, “Where’s that good luck charm I got for you?” “Oh, I don’t know, it must have fallen off somewhere. You can just get another one, can’t you?” He looked away, evasive, before ducking into the bathroom. When I pulled his shirt from the washing machine, it reeked of strong perfume – the exact scent I’d smelled on that woman this afternoon. There was even half a lipstick print on the collar. When Ryan emerged from the bathroom, he saw the shirt in my hand and his face clouded. “What, are you starting to interrogate me now?” “Were the perfume and lipstick from that woman this afternoon? What exactly is your relationship with her?” Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to be so direct, because he froze for a moment. “She was trying on dresses this afternoon, we bumped into each other. What else is there to say?” he scoffed. “Or do you think I’m messing around behind your back?” As he spoke, he snatched the shirt and threw it onto the sofa. A glass of water was knocked to the floor with no warning, shattering into a thousand pieces. One shard, as if by cruel design, sliced my arm. Blood slowly seeped out. “Why are you so careless? Can’t you even avoid broken glass? Always so clumsy.” 2 His words were nothing but blame, devoid of any concern, just like every other time. “Could you… get me some antiseptic and a bandage, please?” “I don’t know where those things are. Just do it yourself.” With that, he swaggered over to the sofa and plopped down. I’d taken such good care of him these past few years that he’d become utterly useless. By the time I’d cleaned and bandaged my wound and returned to the sofa, his phone rang. “I have to go out. Amelia’s fiancé just ran off.” He made to rush out, but I grabbed his arm. “Please don’t go. Doesn’t she have other friends? Does it have to be you? It’s so late, and I’m scared to be alone. You know I hate the dark.” He didn’t even glance at me, forcefully batting my hand away. His hand landed exactly on my freshly bandaged wound. Blood immediately began to soak through. He frowned, looking at it briefly. “Things have priorities, Scarlett. If you’re scared of the dark, just leave the lights on.” Without a backward glance, he slammed the door shut. So, my pain and my fear were just minor inconveniences? I sat on the sofa, waiting, until the middle of the night. Then I started calling him, frantically. It was the twelfth call before he finally picked up. “When are you coming home?” He sighed, an irritated sound, punctuated by Amelia’s faint sobs in the background. “Can you just chill? I’ll come back when this is sorted. Why are you rushing me?” Before I could reply, his tone softened slightly. “Scarlett, our wedding might have to be postponed. I… I have to marry Amelia first.” 3 “Are you joking, Ryan? We’re getting married soon!” “I’m not joking. Wait for me to come home, and I’ll explain.” The news hit me like a bolt of lightning, completely blindsiding me. I didn’t know if he was serious or just playing a cruel joke. I cried and waited for him, eventually drifting off to sleep without him ever coming home. “Scarlett, wake up. I brought you your favorite steamed buns.” Ryan nudged me awake. My eyes, swollen from crying, fixed on him, desperate for an explanation. “Eat first, Scarlett. We’ll talk after you’ve eaten. You’ve been waiting all night, you must be starving.” Ryan was unusually gentle today. He reached out and offered a steamed bun to my mouth – beef. “Ryan, I don’t like beef. I prefer the pork and chive buns from that place.” Four years of chasing him, three years of being together, and he still didn’t know me. “Why are you so picky? I waited in line forever to get these for you, and you’re still complaining?” He picked up the bun and tossed it directly into the trash. “Fine, don’t eat it then.” “Ryan, yesterday… you were just kidding, right?” A glimmer of hope, a desperate wish that it was all just a bad joke. “Scarlett, I was serious yesterday. I’m going to marry Amelia.” “But… we’ve already booked the venue. Why this sudden change?” I grabbed his hand, my voice rising to a frantic pitch. “Scarlett, listen to me. Amelia’s pregnant.” 4 “Is it… your child?” My eyes widened, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. “No, it’s her boyfriend’s. They were supposed to get married, but he just up and left her. If I don’t help her now, she’ll be a laughingstock.” It sounded ridiculous. She was abandoned, so he had to marry her to help her? “Couldn’t you think of any other way?” “Scarlett, it’ll just be a fake marriage. She’ll divorce me after the baby is born. Then we can still get married, it’s just… waiting an extra year, that’s all.” Just one year, he said, so casually. But why should I have to wait an entire year for someone else? “I won’t agree.” “Can you stop being so cold-blooded? We’re only postponing our wedding by a year. If Amelia doesn’t get married, she’ll be shamed.” Ryan was angry and agitated, but couldn’t he hear how absurd he sounded? “Fine. If you don’t agree, then there won’t be any possibility of us getting married, ever. Think it over carefully.” His words were laced with threat, as if he was certain I couldn’t live without him and would inevitably cave. And he was right, in a way. All these years, I’d revolved around him. When we argued, I was always the first to back down. Everyone knew how much I loved him. But now, that very devotion had become his weapon against me. “I still won’t agree.” He ignored my answer and left without another word. “Principal Reynolds, I’m planning to resign. I’ll send my resignation letter to your email shortly.” If his mind was made up, then I wouldn’t cling to him any longer. 5 Principal Reynolds, as usual, asked for my reasons. I told him I wanted to go home and be with my parents. He didn’t press, only reminded me to ensure a smooth handover so the students’ grades wouldn’t be affected. “Don’t worry, Principal. I’ll handle everything.” In a week, tops, I’d be done with the handover and back with my parents. Ryan could marry his Amelia, and no one would stand in his way. Hanging up the phone, I started packing my luggage. It was best to move out of this place as soon as possible. A knock at the door interrupted my packing. When I emerged from the bedroom and opened it, there stood Amelia. “Scarlett, I came to apologize. Can we talk inside?” “No. Say whatever you need to say out here.” If I’d known it was her, I wouldn’t have even opened the door. “Scarlett, Ryan must have told you, I really had no other choice. That’s why he came up with such an idea. Please don’t blame him.” I barely listened to her words, my eyes fixed on the good luck charm around her neck. “Oh, this? Ryan put it on me. He said you specially got it for his safety.” A smug look crossed her face. “He said since I’m pregnant, I really need to stay safe and sound, so he gave it to me. You don’t mind, do you?” I reached up and touched the identical charm around my own neck. How could I not mind? Ryan had fallen seriously ill once, and I was so frantic. I’d knelt for an entire day at the temple to get that charm, wishing only for both of us to be safe. “Whatever. If he wants to give it to you, I can’t stop him.” “Scarlett, do you even know that Ryan doesn’t actually like you?” Her voice held a hint of challenge. She held her phone out, displaying a video. 6 “Ryan, how’s that girlfriend of yours?” “Not great. She’s boring, just cleans and cooks all day, like a housemaid.” “Hahahaha, then why are you even with her? You might as well just hire a maid.” Ryan slung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “It’s just because my parents like her. She’s dutiful, and she’s crazy about me, and she’s pretty enough. I guess I can make it work.” The video ended with a burst of laughter that stung my ears. So, I was just a ‘make-do’ for Ryan, never truly loved. The sadness overwhelmed the anger, and tears, traitorous tears, started to fall. “Scarlett, if I were you, I would have left ages ago. I couldn’t ‘simp’ for someone like that.” She scoffed, mocking me. “Didn’t you know? He’s always liked me, ever since we were kids. If you know what’s good for you, just get lost.” The elevator door chimed open. Amelia suddenly leaned in close, whispered something quickly, then stumbled backward. “Amelia, are you okay?” Ryan rushed out of the elevator. “Ryan, I just wanted to apologize to Scarlett, but she got so agitated and pushed me. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” Amelia leaned into Ryan’s arms, her eyes brimming with tears, looking utterly helpless and pitiful. Ryan immediately scooped her up. Before leaving, he shot me a hateful glare. “Scarlett McKay, I never realized you were so vicious.” 7 I watched them leave, without even the energy to defend myself. I ripped the good luck charm from my neck and threw it into the trash. When I truly started packing, I realized I had a surprising amount of stuff. Two or three hours later, I was only halfway done. Just as I planned to sit down and rest, my phone chimed. It was a video from Ryan. The video was taken by Amelia. It showed Ryan sitting beside her hospital bed, meticulously peeling an orange for her. So Ryan could tolerate the smell of oranges. For three years, because he’d said he didn’t like the scent, I’d never eaten an orange at home. But now, he was peeling one for Amelia with his own hands. A wave of injustice surged through me, uncontrollable. Why did he have to treat me this way? “Scarlett, could you make some home-cooked meals and bring them over? Amelia’s pregnant and can’t eat takeout. And come apologize.” Without waiting for my reply, Ryan quickly hung up. The call lasted only a few seconds. Despite the throbbing in my arm, I cooked a few dishes and packed them. This would be my final repayment to Ryan. Back in my freshman year, I’d been cornered in an alley by some thugs. Ryan had bravely intervened, chasing them off. He’d taken a beating for it. That incident sparked an irrepressible affection in me. Because he’d been my hero, I’d always forgiven him. But now, this was the last time. When I arrived at the hospital, Ryan was gently and carefully combing Amelia’s hair. I remembered how I’d begged him to blow-dry my hair, only for him to burn a large patch of my scalp. He’d just irritably called it a hassle. The contrast was truly laughable. “Scarlett, thank you for making food for me. I really can’t stomach takeout.” Ryan took the food containers and carefully spoon-fed Amelia, bite by bite. “Ugh, why does this taste so awful?”

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My husband, Arthur, dared to cheat on me, thinking I was too old to leave him. When the young woman suddenly showed up at my door, I initially thought she was a university friend of my daughter. The next second, I was stunned by the intimate photos she thrust at me. She believed she could force a divorce, unaware that Arthur only dared to stray because he thought I, being older, wouldn’t leave him. Even my closest friends and family only advised me to endure it, never to leave. Their reason? I married at twenty, and it had been exactly two decades. They said Arthur’s betrayal only came now, so he had already been more than fair to me. Furthermore, he was handsome and wealthy, and I controlled the family finances, making him better than other men. This betrayal, they insisted, I should tolerate. 1. And at first, I truly considered enduring it. The young woman, Daisy, was so young, looking barely seventeen or eighteen, while my husband, Arthur Finch, had just celebrated his forty-first birthday. Our daughter was already in college. Daisy came to me, looking utterly aggrieved, begging me to fulfill her wish for love. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, just like mine once were when I threw caution to the wind. Now, my own eyes were etched with fine lines, and I’d seen a gray hair on my pillow just this morning. “Sweetheart, I can get a divorce.” I was, of course, teasing her. But Daisy didn’t understand, blinking with surprise and delight. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, you’re really willing to step aside?” “Sure. And what are your plans then?” She pouted, thinking for a moment. “I’m planning to go to the Maldives for our honeymoon, and then have a son for him. Mrs. Finch, you don’t know, he really wants a son and keeps pestering me to have one for him.” Arthur wants a son? He was the one who, out of concern for my severe postpartum hemorrhage, voluntarily got a vasectomy. Clearly… times had changed. My desire to tease her vanished. I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Daisy, is it? What I just said was a joke. Arthur and I have been married for twenty years. Our families’ businesses are inextricably linked. We can’t get a divorce. Instead of planning your honeymoon, you should focus on how to extract more money from him.” When I got home, Arthur was sitting on the sofa, looking at documents. Time had truly been kind to him. Even at forty, he only gained a deeper maturity in his brow, making him even more captivating. Hearing me return, he didn’t look up. This was our twenty-year understanding: as long as I didn’t speak, it meant there was nothing to discuss. I went into the kitchen and soon brought out three dishes and a soup. Arthur put down his phone and sat at the dining table. “Vivian said she’ll be back for Thanksgiving. She wants you to pick her up.” “Okay.” “Mom’s not feeling well lately; she needs a check-up.” “Alright, you handle it.” “The bathroom at home is a bit slippery. I want to find someone to redecorate.” “Okay, whatever you say.” “Daisy came to see me.” He finally lifted his head from his bowl and looked at me. His gaze was calm, cold, with a hint of bewilderment. “And?” His mistress came to see him, and he asked me, “And?” Even though I was accustomed to being mild-mannered, I was still caught off guard. Frowning, I looked at him: “Arthur, we’re married. You’re cheating.” I don’t know which word struck a nerve, but he slammed his bowl down. “Eleanor, don’t use such harsh words.” “Daisy is just a child. We don’t have that kind of relationship you’re imagining. Don’t talk nonsense.” A child? How could I not know Arthur had become so adept at self-deception? That night’s dinner ended in discord. I expected a standoff for a while. But the next day, after buying groceries, I returned home to find Daisy in the living room. She was wearing the slippers I bought for our daughter, watching Arthur peel an apple for her. “Oh, Arthur, you’re so amazing! The peel didn’t even break!” “Hmph, making a big deal out of nothing. Here, take it, eat slowly.” Looking at the perfectly round, shiny apple, my mouth tasted bitter. I used to love apples, and he learned to peel them for me. I never imagined that skill would now be used for another woman. Daisy sat happily on the sofa, her fair legs swinging back and forth. I noticed Arthur’s eyes darken slightly. That was the symbol of what he wanted. He pulled her, lifting her onto his lap. Just before the two of them could get any closer, I pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing me, Daisy didn’t move from Arthur’s lap; she just tilted her head and looked at me. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, we meet again!” “I’m sorry, I twisted my ankle. Arthur is helping me look at it. You don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Finch?” She twisted a couple of times, and Arthur let out a suppressed groan. My first half of life had been too protected, so much so that now, I suddenly didn’t know how to retaliate. Should I attack her like a common shrew? Or scratch the scoundrel’s face until it bled? Neither seemed like a wise move. After thinking for a moment, I placed the groceries on the dining table. Then I turned to Arthur and said, “Let’s get a divorce.” 2. He forcefully pushed me away. Arthur refused, claiming he hadn’t committed any fundamental errors. He even mobilized relatives and friends to persuade me. My in-laws, whom I had cared for for twenty years, said he hadn’t physically cheated, so I should just tolerate it. They would intervene and make him transfer five percent of the company shares to me. Our mutual friends said that the girl was only after money, so if I left, wouldn’t that just play right into her hands? Arthur’s business was thriving, his net worth constantly increasing. Only a fool would hand over such wealth to someone else now. My best friend was also going through a divorce recently. Her husband had cheated too, the only difference from me being that her husband had no money and was ugly. She sighed, advising me to just let it go. All breathing men cheat, and at least Arthur was rich. You see, it seemed money had become a get-out-of-jail-free card, capable of absolving all marital sins. I said nothing, still preparing the divorce documents. My father heard the news and came over, slapping me across the face the moment he walked in. His face was red with anger: “What successful man doesn’t socialize? What’s wrong with having one or two women? Wasn’t twenty years of him treating you well enough? Do you have to end up in a miserable divorce? You’re forty now. Who would want you after a divorce?” His face was flushed with health; it seemed my stepmother took excellent care of him, and my new younger brother was well-behaved. Naturally, he couldn’t spare a thought for whether I was hurt or not. The last one to come and persuade me was my daughter, who was in college. When she returned, I instinctively reached out to hug her. But she pushed me away. “Why do you have to divorce Dad?” I, who felt confident in front of everyone else, suddenly flinched. “Your father has another woman, and Mom doesn’t want to live with him anymore.” “You mean that Daisy? Dad said she’s just a friend.” My daughter looked at me impatiently, her expression exactly like Arthur’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a pampered life forever. Can you really handle being divorced? If you can’t adjust, I won’t take care of you.” To be honest, before she came back, I always thought that at least this child, whom I had raised by hand, would give me a hug. She would angrily confront her father, question him about why he was hurting Mom, and then stand by me, firmly cutting ties with the cheating man. Unexpectedly, the moment she returned, she unleashed a torrent of anger on me, then stomped upstairs. Bang! The door slammed with earth-shattering force, making my very soul tremble. That night, while showering, Arthur, for the first time in a long while, came into the bathroom. It had been a year since our last intimacy. When he entered, his gaze was cold and clear. But his hands didn’t stop, moving familiarly over me. “Don’t be angry anymore, hmm?” “Tomorrow I’ll send her away. She won’t appear in front of you again.” My body gradually warmed, but my heart grew colder. I closed my eyes, letting tears mix with water droplets and fall. “Arthur.” “You… truly disgust me.” That Daisy, she was the same age as our daughter. Even if he had found someone in their twenties or thirties, I could still attribute it to a man’s lust. But he found a girl the same age as our daughter. That girl was so young, fresh out in the world. How could he lay his hands on her? 3. Arthur fumed, pushing me away violently. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Before I could even look, he grabbed my chin and pulled me to the mirror. “I disgust you? What about you? Don’t you disgust me?” “Look at that ridiculous haircut, does it have any femininity? Look at your chest, it’s already sagging to your belly! And look at your face, those splotches make me lose my appetite!” “Eleanor, do you even look like a woman anymore?” “We’ll continue like this, and I guarantee you’ll live a life of comfort. But if we divorce, you’ll wish you were dead.” Even after Arthur left, I was still trembling all over. I couldn’t believe that the man I had loved for twenty years could say such things, or perhaps… he had changed long ago, and I was too blind to see it? I clenched my hands tightly, letting blood run into my palms. A sharp pain surged, making my mind even clearer. Arthur, do you think I have no way to deal with you? That you can do whatever you want? Just wait. This divorce, I’m getting it for sure. The next day, downstairs, Arthur had uncharacteristically prepared breakfast. Our daughter was eating, and seeing me, she lowered her head again, unwilling to engage. He, however, played the good guy, softly coaxing our child: “Vivian, we agreed yesterday, you have to forgive Mom.” Only then did our daughter reluctantly say, “Mom.” “The child was tired from the car ride yesterday. Come quickly and eat, I made your favorite sandwich.” He and I met eyes, and there was undisguised triumph in his. I said nothing. A moment later, the doorbell rang, and the maid brought Daisy in. “Mrs. Finch, good morning. I’m here to deliver documents to Mr. Finch.” They openly clasped hands. Our daughter didn’t think anything of it; instead, she invited Daisy to eat. Daisy demurred for a moment, then turned and sat in my seat. As if to spite me, Vivian placed my breakfast in front of her. She also poured her a glass of the orange juice I usually loved. Daisy also put all her effort into trying to win Vivian over. After exchanging school information, they discovered they were university alumni. “Oh, Vivian, you have such a nice personality! I thought you’d dislike me just like Mrs. Finch…” “My mom’s just going through menopause lately, she’s paranoid. She insists you and my dad are having an affair. Just ignore her.” By the end of the meal, the two had actually become good friends. I hadn’t listened to anything since Vivian said I was paranoid, and I walked out of the house. I needed to find someone, an old classmate I hadn’t seen in over ten years. My first love, the renowned lawyer, Ethan Grant. 4. At the coffee shop, I told Ethan about my desire for a divorce. He scoffed. “You’d really give that up?” Still so ill-tempered, even at his age. If only he had been a little more gentle, I never would have broken up with him. Too lazy to argue with this stubborn mule, I pulled a card from my bag. “I’ve checked around. Your market rate is a million. Here’s half a million; I’ll pay the other half after the divorce. This is business, no personal feelings.” Ethan toyed with the card, then tucked it into his bag. “Alright, boss.” On the way back, he offered to drive me. Compared to my own harmonious family life over the years, his had been much harder. I heard his wife passed away a few years ago from illness, and they had no children. He simply poured all his energy into work, and his career flourished, making him a top lawyer in Sterling City. Ethan’s car was a flashy Maserati, roaring as it drove. I kept frowning. “At your age, why do you still like such flamboyant things?” I wondered why his wife had ever fallen for him. Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You used to like this kind of flashy stuff too, remember?” That left me speechless. In my twenties, I certainly did like gaudy things, but what sane person at forty can still play around like that? He truly had a lot of energy. Too lazy to talk more with him, after getting out of the car, I transferred him three hundred dollars. Ethan: “?” Me: “Cab fare.” Ethan: “Alright, boss.” Though his car was flashy, Ethan taught me a lot about preparations for divorce. Following his guidance, I managed to uncover Arthur’s bank account details and hired a private investigator who got photos of the address where he was keeping his mistress. It was a house I had bought before marriage. We lived there during our courtship and for the first few years of our marriage. Later, when Vivian was born, we hired a nanny, and the house was too small, so we moved to the current villa. I hadn’t visited it in years. Arthur actually hid her there? I found the keys, chose a day when they weren’t there, and opened the apartment door. Everything inside was unchanged, except for some added clutter. It was clear that Daisy truly wanted to marry Arthur. Behind the sofa hung their framed photo. By the dining table, there were knitted dolls she had handmade. In the kitchen, a rich soup was still in a thermos. If the photo’s pose didn’t exactly match mine from back then. If the dolls she knitted weren’t my favorite orange plushies. If the soup she brewed wasn’t the exclusive recipe I developed for Arthur’s stomach condition. Then I might have applauded this loving, illicit couple. But the soup recipe, I had only ever given to my mother-in-law. Which meant, besides me, only she knew it. Yet now it appeared in Daisy’s living space. The continuous betrayals made me question if I truly was such a failure, to make everyone around me so readily choose to hurt me? Just as my emotions were churning, the door suddenly opened. Daisy walked in happily. Then turned and flung herself into Arthur’s arms. “It’s wonderful! Arthur, I’m finally going to have a son for you!” Arthur stroked her face indulgently, then looked up, and our eyes met. 5. For the first time, I saw panic on Arthur’s face. He probably never imagined he’d see me here. At that moment, I, on the other hand, calmly took out my phone and started recording. Seeing this, he tried to snatch it away, but I blocked him: “Arthur, think carefully. This room has surveillance cameras. If I retrieve the footage, both your reputations will be ruined.” Arthur let out a ragged breath. He had dominated the business world for years, accustomed to controlling everything. Faced with this loss of control from me, he instinctively felt irritated. “Eleanor, stop making a scene and go home.” “I want a divorce.” “I’m not divorcing you. Give up!” “I want a divorce. We’ll finalize it tomorrow, or you can expect to be all over social media.” “Why are you causing trouble? Haven’t you thought about your father, my parents, and our daughter?” He brought up Vivian, and I finally broke down. I picked up a vase and smashed it to the floor. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don’t you dare mention them!!!” I rushed over and slapped him hard. “You bastard! You didn’t think about them when you cheated, you didn’t think about them when you had a child with another woman, and now that I’ve caught you red-handed, you want me to think about them? What kind of double standard are you, so good at letting yourself off the hook?” “You’re just an old pervert who can’t keep his pants on. After disgusting me, you want to shut me up? I’m telling you, in your dreams! Either you divorce me tomorrow, or we’ll fight it out in court, and let the chips fall where they may. Your call!” I went straight to Ethan Grant’s law firm. He happened to be free, so he found me an office and poured me a glass of water. “What’s wrong? You’re so upset.” “Don’t even ask. I ran into the mistress. She’s pregnant.” “What are you thinking now?” At this, my anger flared. “What do you think I can think? Is thinking even useful now?” Ethan paused, pushing the water glass closer to me. This small gesture immediately extinguished my anger: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He shrugged: “No problem, the client is always right.” Ethan said that the current situation was very favorable for me. I had photos of the apartment, and the fact that Arthur had a child with someone else was an undeniable de facto marriage. This situation would be even more advantageous for subsequent asset division. My mind felt numb; I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. When I left the law firm, he offered to drive me, but I refused. I wanted to walk alone.

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I was born with “pain transference.” My specialty is weaponized empathy. Whatever pain someone fakes in my presence, they feel for real. When a two-faced girl pretended I pushed her and cried about how much it hurt, the next second, she was screaming as if every bone in her body had shattered. When a con artist threw herself in front of my car, wailing that her back was broken, her vertebrae instantly dislocated, paralyzing her on the asphalt. Over time, people learned to treat me with a healthy dose of fear. No one dared to fake an illness or play the victim in my vicinity. Until, for the sake of a family merger, I was engaged to a brilliant, aloof maestro of surgery. At our engagement party, his “little sister” from med school clutched her stomach, her face slick with cold sweat as she cried. In front of the city’s medical elite, she clung to my fiancé’s sleeve and whimpered: “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The elegant ballroom fell silent. My fiancé removed his gloves. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait.” “A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” The champagne flute in my hand paused mid-air. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead.” “Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” 1 For the sake of a dynastic union, I was engaged to Dr. Julian Barclay, a brilliant and aloof surgical prodigy. He was the youngest chief surgeon in the medical community, his future limitless. Our two families were titans, and the engagement party was a lavish affair. Everyone who was anyone in the city was there. I stood in the center of the grand hall, wearing a couture gown, my arm linked with Julian’s. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Just as we were about to exchange engagement rings, the doors were thrown open. A frail girl in a white dress stumbled in. It was Monica, Julian’s junior from medical school. Her face was as white as her dress. Clutching her stomach, she rushed towards us. In front of hundreds of guests, she grabbed Julian’s sleeve, tears instantly streaming down her face, her skin glistening with a cold sweat. “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The entire hall fell silent. Every eye was fixed on the three of us. I looked at Monica’s pathetic, damsel-in-distress act and sneered inwardly. Stomach cancer? Just yesterday, I saw her post a picture on Instagram of herself devouring a spicy hot pot. Today, she was having a terminal cancer flare-up? Julian’s cool, indifferent expression shattered. He didn’t hesitate to pull his arm from mine, turning to support Monica. “Monica, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Monica sagged into his arms, breathing weakly. “Julian, I know today is a big day for you. I didn’t want to bother you. But it hurts so much, I feel like I’m going to die. I just wanted to see you one last time.” Her speech was so heartfelt, so moving, that a few of the guests actually started dabbing their eyes. Julian’s own eyes reddened. He pulled the engagement ring, the one meant for me, from his finger and tossed it unceremoniously onto a nearby table. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait. A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” He didn’t even offer me an apology before sweeping Monica into his arms, ready to leave. I paused, my champagne flute held steady. I watched Monica, nestled in his embrace, shoot me a triumphant, provocative smirk. Fine. You want to play games? I swirled the champagne in my glass and spoke, my voice calm and deliberate. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead. Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” Julian stopped in his tracks and glared at me. “Seraphina, what the hell are you talking about? Monica is already so sick, and you’re cursing her? How can you be so vicious?” The moment he finished speaking, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from Monica’s throat. “AAAAAHHH!” The sound was so piercing it seemed to shatter the crystal chandeliers. Monica thrashed out of Julian’s arms, crashing to the floor. She curled into a ball, clutching her stomach like a boiled shrimp, her white dress instantly soaked with sweat. She writhed on the ground, her head banging against the marble. “It hurts! It hurts so much! Somebody help me! My stomach is exploding! My insides are on fire!” She screamed, clawing at her own belly, her nails digging bloody furrows into her skin. Julian was horrified. He dropped to his knees, trying to restrain her. “Monica! What’s wrong?” Lost to the pain, Monica bit down hard on his wrist. Julian grunted in pain but refused to let her go. He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Seraphina! What did you do to her?” I stood my ground, looking down on them. “What could I do? Didn’t she say she has terminal stomach cancer? This is what a flare-up looks like. Surely a great doctor like you would know that.” The guests began to whisper. “That girl’s screams… they don’t sound fake.” “Could she really have terminal cancer?” “How tragic.” Julian no longer had time to argue with me. Monica’s eyes were rolling back in her head, foam flecked her lips, and her breathing grew ragged. “Monica, hang on! I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” Ignoring the bite on his wrist, he scooped her up and ran for the door. At the threshold, he turned back, his gaze pinning me. “Seraphina, if anything happens to Monica, I will make you pay.” I just smiled coldly and drained my champagne. “Let’s be clear, Julian. You’re the one who publicly abandoned me for another woman. As of now, our engagement is void. You’re not breaking it off. I am.” Julian froze for a second, then snarled, “Fine! I wouldn’t want a cold-blooded woman like you anyway!” And with that, he was gone. Dead silence filled the ballroom. Everyone stared at me. I set down my glass, walked onto the stage, and took the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies, but the engagement party is canceled. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy the rest of the evening. It’s all on my tab.” Then, I gathered the skirt of my gown and walked out, leaving a sea of stunned faces behind me. I knew with absolute certainty: Monica was a dead woman. My power of pain transference had never once failed. If she dared to fake terminal cancer, I would make her experience it for real. Magnified by ten. 2 Julian rushed Monica to his own hospital, City Central, straight into the emergency room. Her screams echoed through the entire ER. He pulled some strings and ordered an emergency full-body CT scan. He stood in the control room, his eyes glued to the monitor. When the images appeared, the attending physician gasped. “Dr. Barclay… this… this is impossible!” Julian shoved the doctor aside. On the screen was a massive, irregularly bordered tumor in her stomach. But that wasn’t all. Her liver, lungs, even her bones were riddled with metastatic lesions. It was real. Stage-four stomach cancer, spread throughout her entire body. Incurable. Julian’s legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. “How can this be? She had a full physical just last month at this very hospital. All her markers were normal!” The physician sighed. “The images don’t lie. With this level of metastasis, she has three months to live, at most.” From the ER, Monica’s screams continued unabated. They gave her painkiller after painkiller, but even the highest dose of morphine couldn’t touch the pain. She had ripped the bedsheets to shreds. Julian burst into her room, grabbing her hand. “Monica, don’t be afraid. I’m the best surgeon there is. I will save you!” Ignoring the other doctor’s advice, he scheduled an emergency surgery. He was going to open her up and cut the tumor out himself. The operating light flickered on. Julian scrubbed in, scalpel in hand. The moment he made the first incision, he despaired. Her abdominal cavity was filled with cancerous fluid and nodules. Her stomach was a necrotic, pulpy mess. There was nothing to cut, nowhere to start. His celebrated surgical skill was a joke. Julian’s hands began to tremble, and the scalpel clattered to the floor. He leaned against the operating table, buried his face in his hands, and broke down sobbing. Meanwhile, I had returned to the Vance family estate. The moment I walked in, a teacup flew past my head, shattering at my feet. My father was on the sofa, his face crimson with rage. “You insolent girl! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Calling off the engagement in front of all those people! What about the Barclay family’s dignity? What about our family’s dignity?” I looked at him coldly. “Julian abandoned me for another woman. Did you want me to get on my knees and beg him to stay?” My father slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “She was a patient! Julian is a doctor! Saving lives is his duty! Not only did you show no understanding, you said those vicious things! You will go to the hospital right now, apologize to Julian, and apologize to that girl!” I stood my ground. “No.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “If you don’t go, you are no longer my daughter!” When I still didn’t move, he clutched his chest, his body swaying. “You… you’re trying to kill me! Oh, my heart… I think I’m having a heart attack!” He collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. My mother rushed to his side, then turned to me. “Seraphina! Are you trying to give your father a heart attack?” I looked at my father’s clumsy performance and sneered. He got a full physical twice a year; his heart was as strong as an ox. And now he was pulling this stunt to make me back down. I walked over to the sofa. “A heart attack, is it? It’s very painful. Are you sure you want one?” My father faltered for a second, then cried out even louder. “You ungrateful child! You really are giving me a heart attack!” I nodded. “Alright. As you wish.” Instantly, the color drained from my father’s face. His eyes flew open, his hands clawing at his chest. His lips, once ruddy, turned a sickening shade of blue. He gasped, but no sound came out, only a rattling in his throat. He tumbled off the sofa, his body convulsing on the floor. My mother was stunned. “Honey? Honey, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” My father’s eyes had rolled back. He was unconscious. I calmly took out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, Vance Estate. We have a case of acute myocardial infarction. Bring a defibrillator. Hurry.” Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics performed CPR on the spot. “No heartbeat! Charging! Clear!” Thump! My father’s body arched off the floor. It took three shocks to get a faint, thready pulse. The paramedics, sweating, loaded him onto a gurney. “Family needs to come now! We could lose him any second!” My mother followed, crying. As she left, she shot me a look of pure terror. She had suddenly remembered my terrifying “gift,” my “crow’s beak” that had followed me since childhood. The house fell silent. The maids hid in corners, not daring to breathe. I sat on the sofa and poured myself a cup of tea. Faking an illness? In my presence, no one gets away with it.

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During our annual leave, my husband and I went abroad for our honeymoon. Coincidentally, a new virus broke out—infection meant death within three months. Desperate, and due to my specialized profession, I received the only two return tickets available. I touched my belly, where my child was less than three months old, and excitedly told my husband, “Liam, we don’t have to die.” But on the day we were supposed to leave, Liam said, “I gave the tickets to Sienna. She’s seven months pregnant.” Sienna was the one he’d loved and lost in his youth, his “white moonlight.” For the sake of the baby in my belly, I knelt and begged him to get the tickets back. He hesitated for a second, then coldly refused me. “Sienna and her baby need those tickets more. Your baby is only a month along; it doesn’t count as a life yet!” In the end, I watched helplessly as he took Sienna and boarded the plane, while I, and the child in my womb, died in a foreign land. When I reopened my eyes, I found myself holding two tickets! 1. Half an hour ago, I had called the embassy and, due to my specialized background, had secured these two sole tickets. Memories of my past life flashed before my eyes like a film. They stopped at the scene of me, connected to a ventilator, dying in despair on a cold hospital bed. My body turned to ashes, scattered with thousands of other deceased souls on foreign soil. When I returned to the hotel, it was twenty minutes earlier than in my previous life. I overheard Liam on the phone in the bathroom. “Sienna, don’t be afraid. I’ll find a way to get tickets.” “For the sake of our unborn baby, you must be strong. You’re a strong mother. Trust me, I won’t let you or the baby die.” Liam’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. From the other end of the line came intermittent sobs. “Oh, Liam, thank you for still being so good to me. If I hadn’t been born into such a parasitic family, I never would have left you.” Then Sienna’s voice turned a bit sour. “By the way, Liam, are you in Florence for your honeymoon this time?” Liam hummed, then eagerly added, “But also to see you. I heard you got divorced, and I was worried about you being alone.” I gripped the tickets, sitting on the sofa, and scoffed. So, among all those countries, Liam’s insistence on coming to Florence was for Sienna. It was laughable that before we left, he’d given the reason that Florence was a romantic city and he wanted to give me a romantic trip. Only now, reliving it, did I realize it was all a lie. The doorknob to the bathroom turned, and Liam saw me. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He smiled and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me intimately, as he always did, burrowing into my embrace. “Honey, when did you get back?” Our bodies were pressed tightly together, but I no longer felt the warmth I once did. Instead, a chill seeped into my bones. I pushed him away, calmly saying, “I just got back and sat down when you came out.” He didn’t think much of it, nor did he notice my changed demeanor. Instead, he let out a sigh of relief, then his voice dropped. “Honey, if we can’t leave this time, I’ll die with you.” I said nothing, but scoffed inwardly. With Sienna, he was careful to comfort her and promise she wouldn’t die. With me, he said he could die with me, yet in the previous life, he took the ticket and boarded the plane with Sienna. I still remember how he resolutely flung my hand away, feigning agony as he said, “Eleanor, I’m an only child, and I come from a single-parent home. If I die, my mother won’t survive. But don’t worry, I’ll treat your parents as my own.” 2. But he seemed to forget, my parents only had me, and I was their late-in-life child. My name is Eleanor Vance. My parents said they hoped I would be as precious as pure gold, that my name embodied all their love. Who isn’t a treasure in their parents’ hands? Even now, I can’t bear to imagine how my parents, nearing seventy, would spend their old age if I were gone. After dinner with Liam, he excused himself to go downstairs for a cigarette to clear his head. I stood silently by the window, watching him hail a taxi and drive away. In the empty hotel room, the news reported the daily updated death toll: “Today, twenty-one deaths from infection…” The presenter’s voice was cold as she recited the numbers, but I knew deeply how painfully those lives behind the statistics awaited death. On the first day of infection, the entire body would itch. On the second, rashes would break out everywhere. Those rashes would be painful and itchy, oozing pus. On the third day, internal organs would feel like they were being gnawed away. This agonizing pain would not subside until the very moment of death! Thinking of this, I touched my belly and said softly, “Good baby, next life, choose a good father and mother. I can’t… keep you. Mommy doesn’t want you to be born into an incomplete family!” After all, Mommy also came from a complete and loving family. Mommy hopes you can have that double portion of love too! Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I saw it was my father calling. As soon as I answered, my father’s choked voice came through the line. “Hello, Eleanor, I saw the news that a virus broke out in Florence, and all flights are grounded. My dear daughter, don’t be afraid. Dad will buy a ticket and come to be with you.” Then, from the other end of the line, came my mother’s suppressed sobbing. “Old man, I’m going too. Buy my ticket as well. You think you’re the only one who misses our daughter? Don’t I?” “Your health isn’t good. Just wait for good news at home, I’ll bring our daughter back safely.” “No, if she comes back, we come back together. If not, it’s better to die together.” Hearing my usually gentle parents argue over me, my eyes silently welled up with tears on my end of the phone. To keep them from worrying, I suppressed my choked voice and quickly said, “Mom and Dad, don’t worry. I called the embassy, and the country gave me return tickets. I’ll be back tomorrow.” My mother, hearing this, quickly snatched the phone. “Really? That’s wonderful! Your father and I will go to the airport to pick you up tomorrow.” I wiped away my tears and smiled. “No, I have a mission when I return home this time. Just rest assured at home and wait for me to come back.” After hanging up, I realized Liam had returned at some point. He looked at me with delight. “Eleanor, you got the tickets, didn’t you?” I had told him when I called the embassy. Now that I think about it, his confident words to comfort Sienna were probably based on the assumption that I would get the tickets. Since he knew, I no longer concealed it, but when I spoke, I deliberately said, “I got the tickets, but there’s only one.” Hearing this, the hopeful light in his eyes instantly dimmed. After a few seconds of silence, he frowned, anxious. “One? How could they only give one? Didn’t you tell them you have family?” “Talk to them again, ask them to make an exception. Someone like you, an unsung hero, couldn’t possibly only get one ticket, could they?” He was right, of course. Life-saving tickets were meant for partners and family. So when I explained the situation to the embassy, they gave me two return tickets without hesitation. But now, faced with Liam’s questioning, I still insisted, “At times like this, tickets are even more scarce. Most of those who can board planes now are the pillars of the country, serving our nation.” He remained noncommittal to my words. Seeing his silence, I deliberately asked, “Honey, don’t you want me to return home? You must know how many lives my identity could save if I returned.” He snapped back to reality, forcing a smile. “I… of course I want you to go back.” Late at night, I pretended to be asleep. Sure enough, he quietly searched for the tickets. I hadn’t deliberately hidden the tickets; they were just in a box on the nightstand. But I had hidden my own ticket. Liam, knowing beforehand that I had only secured one ticket, didn’t suspect anything. With the ticket in hand, he immediately went to the bathroom and made a call. “Sienna, I got the ticket from Eleanor. You can go through the special channel and board the plane tomorrow.” “Really? Oh, Liam, that’s wonderful! Now my baby and I won’t die!” Liam heard the laughter from the other end of the line and joined in her joy. After a moment of excitement, Sienna suddenly remembered something and quickly asked, “Liam, are you coming with me? I want… I want you to be my baby’s father.” If it were the previous life, Liam would have jumped for joy, because this was the lifelong regret he couldn’t overcome. But at this moment, knowing there was only one ticket, he said bitterly, “Sienna, don’t worry about me. If I survive, I’ll definitely come back to marry you.” “Eleanor, such a talented person, wouldn’t only get one ticket, would she? You can talk to her, tell her to give you her ticket first. After you and I leave together, the country, valuing her abilities, should give her another one.” I secretly listened to their conversation. So that was her plan. She still wanted to fly off with him, leaving me to die in a foreign land, just like in the previous life! At this moment, Liam, having heard her words, could only say helplessly, “Eleanor only managed to get one ticket, but don’t worry, I might not die. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to live until a cure is found.” Sienna suddenly started crying after hearing this. Liam comforted her tenderly for a while before coming back to sleep. After turning off the light, Liam held me and whispered behind me, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I… I’ll be with you, even in death. Let it be my atonement to you!” A chill spread through me. My heart ached as if pricked by needles. Liam and I, though we met through an arranged marriage, After marriage, he was caring, gentle, and romantic, fulfilling all my expectations for a husband. I gradually fell in love with him. When I heard all flights were grounded, I had even thought of dying with him, but his love and his true heart had never been given to me! Since that was the case, in this life, let him bear the pain of separation by death himself! The next day, when I woke up, Liam was nowhere to be seen.

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While tidying up, I found the newly bought pack of sanitary pads had been opened. Without a moment’s hesitation, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and send them to Alexander Prescott. His call came almost immediately. “Another tantrum? What’s it this time?” I bit my lip, my voice cold. “A pad is missing from the pack in my drawer.” “Fine. Have it your way,” Alexander’s voice was a cocktail of anger and impatience. “Just don’t come crawling back when you regret it!” The line went dead. Regret? Never. My only regret was being blind for so long, and allowing the woman who once took the business world by storm to suffer years of humiliation. … I was packing my suitcase when Isabelle ran in, tears streaming down her face. She was Alexander’s current assistant, and his first love, the one that got away. “Sera, I’m so sorry. I came by to drop off some files for Alex the other day, and I got my period unexpectedly. I just borrowed one of your pads,” she sobbed. “I never thought it would cause such a misunderstanding. Please, don’t divorce him. If you do, I’ll never be able to clear my name.” Listening to her half-hearted apology, a cold smile touched my lips. “If I don’t divorce him, how am I supposed to make room for you?” Isabelle’s voice hitched. “Sera, how can you say that? I never wanted to interfere in your marriage, I…” “You didn’t want to,” I cut her off, “or you couldn’t?” Years ago, when the Prescott family was searching for a bride for Alexander among the city’s elite debutantes, Isabelle, as the illegitimate daughter of the Miller family, was the first to be dismissed. Now, seven years later, the Miller family was bankrupt. Her return was only possible under the guise of being his assistant, a way to get close to him again. Isabelle cried even more pitifully. “If you won’t believe me, then I’ll just resign, alright?” “Suit yourself.” I threw Alexander’s earlier words back at her and went back to my packing, ignoring her completely. In the two years since Isabelle joined the company, I’d threatened divorce as many times as she’d threatened to quit. Now that the divorce was real, she was still playing the same old card: feigning retreat to gain sympathy. Alexander had long grown tired of my “jealous antics,” yet he remained utterly defenseless against her damsel-in-distress act. “Sera, please don’t go. Please don’t divorce Alex,” she cried, her voice tragic and innocent. She grabbed my arm, shaking it dramatically like some heroine in a soap opera. “Hit me, if it will make you feel better. Just please, stop being angry.” With that, she pulled my hand towards her own face. I watched her clumsy performance, my brow furrowed as I began a silent countdown. Ten, nine, eight… Before I even reached seven, Alexander’s frantic figure burst into the room. “Stop it!” he roared at me. “Seraphina, you’ve gone too far!” “Isabelle was our classmate, for God’s sake! How could you hit her?” Just like every other time, Alexander arrived right on cue, convicting me without a trial. I shook my head and gave a bitter laugh. His hero-saving-the-damsel routine was certainly getting more polished. I set down my luggage and rose slowly. First, I turned to Alexander. “If your eyes are failing you, Alex, make an appointment with an optometrist.” “Hit her? I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands.” “You…” His own words caught in his throat. I then turned to Isabelle. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t hear a knock, nor did I get up to open the door.” I stared directly into her eyes. “So, please tell me, how did you get in?” Her face went pale, and she stumbled, nearly falling. A strong arm caught her by the waist. Alexander steadied her, his voice laced with concern, before turning back to me with a glare. “Isabelle is my assistant. I gave her the password to the door for work. What, are you going to nitpick about every little thing now?” His eyes were filled with contempt. “Your jealousy is suffocating, Seraphina.” The word hit me like a lightning strike. I stood frozen. He thought I was suffocating? Wasn’t the suffocating part the way Isabelle had infiltrated our marriage over the past two years, with his silent approval and indulgence? It was invasive, and it knew no bounds. It started with dropping off files, then moved to casually staying for dinner, then overnight. Using my personal clothes without asking, taking my sanitary pads. The list of “little things” was endless. Our marriage for two had become a movie for three. And I was the extra. I blinked back the tears and looked up at Alexander. “Since this marriage is causing both of us so much pain, let’s just sign the papers and end it.” He frowned, pushing the divorce agreement aside. “Alright, stop making a scene.” “Apologize to Isabelle, and we’ll let this go. We can all still be good friends.” Hearing the word “friends” from his mouth again dredged up a flood of painful memories. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I, Seraphina Vaughn, would rather die alone than be friends with someone who bullied me!” An apology? Not in this lifetime. Back in school, I had hidden my family’s wealth to try and fit in. That decision made me a target for Isabelle. On the first day, she threw my books and backpack into a filthy pond behind the school. My uniform pants were slashed with a knife. Later, under pressure from my family, the school forced Isabelle to make a public apology and was about to expel her. It was Alexander who convinced me. “Come on, Sera. Let it go. She knows she was wrong, just forgive her.” Blinded by my love for him, I endured the humiliation, shook her hand, and even asked the school to let her stay. Looking back, his bias towards her started back then. I was just too in love to see it. Isabelle’s face grew even paler, tears falling like broken pearls. “I was wrong. I overstepped. I shouldn’t have presumed on our past friendship to try and be your friend.” Her voice was a pathetic whisper. “I forgot that I’m just a lowly employee at your company now. I’m worthless. I’ll leave.” Alexander’s eyes instantly reddened. He pulled Isabelle behind him, shielding her as he yelled at me. “I gave you the title of Mrs. Prescott so you could have dignity, not so you could bully people!” He turned back to Isabelle, patting her trembling shoulder. “Don’t say that about yourself, Isabelle. In my heart, you’ve never been just an employee.” He gazed at the fragile woman before him, his eyes burning with passion. “You have always been the most special person to me.” Watching my legal husband declare his undying love for another woman, I didn’t fly into a rage as I usually would. I just felt a deep, chilling cold. With her degree from some no-name university abroad, Isabelle was nowhere near qualified to be the assistant to the CEO of Prescott Corp. It was Alexander who had overruled everyone to keep her. He gave her an unheard-of salary and a unique brand of favoritism, one that pushed his own wife to the sidelines. She called him “Mr. Prescott” but called me by my first name. She claimed it was a sign of closeness, but it was clear she thought I wasn’t worthy of the Mrs. Prescott title. I could handle her thinking that, but I never imagined Alexander felt the same way. The absurdity of it all was laughable. Me, the sole heiress of Vaughn Industries, needing the “Mrs. Prescott” title to throw my weight around? The regret for the proud woman I had lost to love was sharp and painful. In that moment, the last flicker of hope for my marriage was extinguished. “Alexander, sign the divorce papers soon,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Don’t force me to take this to court.” With that, I picked up my suitcase and walked out without a backward glance. When I walked through the door of my family home, my parents were excitedly watching a travel show about the Northern Lights. They quickly turned off the TV when they saw me. Traveling the world had always been their dream, but their only daughter was a fool for love, so obsessed with a man that she refused to come home and take over the family business. I walked over, took the remote out of the drawer, and turned the TV back on. Then I pulled out my phone and booked two tickets to Finland. But they didn’t smile with the surprise I expected. They just looked at me with worry in their eyes. I knew I couldn’t hide it. “We’re… getting a divorce,” I said, the words falling into the sudden silence of the vast living room. After a long moment, my parents came over and gently took my hands. “Whatever you decide, we support you. We just want you to be happy.” “Your mother and I are always your safety net.” My eyes welled up, and the years of pent-up sorrow came pouring out with my tears. They had been against my marriage to Alexander from the start, but they had relented because of my desperate pleas. I squeezed my father’s hand and then took my mother’s, our three hands clasped together. I forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” They weren’t convinced. They insisted I change my flight from the next day to a week later, so they could spend more time with me. At their suggestion, I booked a family portrait session, an annual tradition that had always been the highlight of our year. After marrying Alexander, I had invited him many times, but he always declined, citing work. The next morning, we arrived at the photo studio early, only to see a familiar figure: Alexander. Isabelle was with him. She was leaning on his shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “Alex, thank you for canceling that important meeting to come take pictures with me.” Alexander smiled and gently tapped her nose. “You silly girl. You’re the most important person to me. Who else would I spoil?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. So, it was never about being busy. It was about me not being worthy of his time. “Sera, what are you looking at?” my mother asked. “Nothing, I thought I saw someone I knew,” I said, turning to block her view and guiding her away. Inside the studio, I held my father’s hand on one side and linked arms with my mother on the other, smiling like a carefree child. Click! The photographer captured the warm, happy moment. In that instant, I felt reborn. I had found what was most important in my life again. “Oh,” my mother had just stepped out to use the restroom when my father suddenly clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach again?” I helped him to a nearby lounge and simultaneously called our family doctor and 911. While we waited for the ambulance, Isabelle appeared. “So this is why you were so willing to divorce Alex,” she sneered. “You found yourself a new sugar daddy.” Her greedy eyes scanned my father from head to toe. “This old geezer might have some class, but he’s ancient. He’s nothing compared to Alex.” She clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. I’m impressed you can even bring yourself to touch him for money.” My father understood immediately who she was, the woman who had destroyed my marriage. He struggled to get up, to defend my honor, but a sharp pain sent him collapsing back onto the sofa. Seeing my father’s agony, I snapped. I marched over to her and slapped her hard across the face. CRACK! “Watch your filthy mouth,” I snarled. “That’s my father!”

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My DINK husband and I had both retired. Just as we were planning a world tour together, he suddenly laid down his cards. “I’ve publicly claimed to be DINK for thirty years for you, but now it’s time to bring my two children, who’ve been living elsewhere, home!” I had expected this, though, and smiled meaningfully. He thought I was crazy and continued, “It’s natural for a man to carry on his lineage. If you couldn’t have children, I could play along with the DINK pretense. But now, I need to give my children an explanation!” He proposed divorce, wanting to take his son and daughter, along with their mother, on a family trip. I immediately agreed, graciously stepping aside and leaving. 1. The DINK Dilemma After news of the divorce spread, everyone felt sorry for me. An elderly neighbor, empathizing, said, “At this age, to be abandoned by her husband… a bleak old age, how tragic.” “Charles Reynolds, that old scoundrel, what a jerk! Back then, he swore they’d never have kids, just live a life for two. Now look, his own son and daughter are old enough to give him grandkids!” A young college student from the same complex fumed on my behalf. Chatting with old friends, they couldn’t help but lament, “You were so brilliant in your youth, successful in your career, living so freely. But you had to be DINK, and now you’re old and lonely…” My parents also tried to persuade me, “As long as you don’t divorce, his children are your children. They’ll still care for you in your old age. When we’re gone, we’ll have peace of mind.” They all thought I was forced into divorce, that I was heartbroken, that I was facing a lonely old age, having lived my life as a joke. I didn’t explain, nor did I bother to refute them one by one. How our situation truly played out, they would eventually learn when the time was right. Charles, on the other hand, was basking in his glory. He posted a family photo on social media with the caption: “From today on, I finally have a real family.” In the photo, he stood in the middle, with a young man and woman flanking him, their faces beaming with undisguised vigor. And the woman who could carry on his lineage held his arm, smiling sweetly and demurely. The family of four looked happy and warm—this was probably the domestic bliss Charles had always yearned for. It was as if the years he spent with me had never existed, as if they had always been this small family unit. “Look at that, now that’s a life winner,” someone commented. Yes, Charles had won big. In his youth, he enjoyed a life for two with me, living freely for decades, never enduring the hardship of late-night feedings or diaper changes. Yet in his old age, he now had a son and a daughter, to dote on him. How could he not be considered a life winner? Now that he was finally retired, his career and reputation wouldn’t be affected. He could at last legitimize the woman he’d kept hidden for decades, welcome his children home, and experience the warmth of family. And I, at my age, abandoned by my husband, left to face a lonely and unsupported fate, would inevitably draw sighs of pity. But they didn’t know that I had been prepared all along. This marriage was never a one-sided act. 2. The Farewell Home The divorce proceedings went quickly, almost too quickly for me to fully grasp. Charles personally drove me to the registry office. When signing the papers, his hand didn’t tremble at all. Instead, it seemed as if a burden had finally been lifted, making his movements quick and decisive. He smiled at the clerk and said, “Can’t be helped. We’re both old now, and the love just died. But thankfully, I have a son and a daughter to keep me company, so I’ll still enjoy some family happiness.” The clerk looked at me apologetically, her eyes full of sympathy and comfort. I smiled back but didn’t say anything. After the divorce, he waved his hand, hiring people to clear out the bedroom I’d lived in for over thirty years. He was impatient to bring Elaine and his two children home. I didn’t fight or argue, didn’t even bother to hire a lawyer. I simply took my half of the savings and a few important personal items, then decisively moved out. On the day Elaine moved in, I returned to pack up the last few things. The front door opened, and I immediately saw brand new photos displayed in the living room. My wedding photo with Charles had been replaced. In its place was a family portrait of the four of them. Charles sat in the middle, Elaine linked arms with him, and two young, similar-looking adults stood on either side, appearing to be in their twenties, full of youthful spirit. When they saw me enter, the lively atmosphere instantly chilled, as if to declare their unwelcome. Elaine, however, smiled and called out, “Oh, Anya, did you forget something? Let me help you find it.” She completely took on the air of a hostess greeting a guest. “Just a few last things. I’m taking them all today,” I said calmly. Charles sat on the sofa, head still down, casually flipping through a newspaper, as if waiting for me to take the hint and leave. Sarah and Tom stood to the side, their eyes filled with undisguised distance and wariness, treating me like a strange intruder. “Mom, this house’s decor looks a bit old, doesn’t it? The living room is a bit dark. Why don’t we redecorate and change the style?” Sarah said casually. “Yeah, the sofa needs replacing too. It’s so dated. How did Dad manage to live in a place like this?” Tom chimed in. I listened to their nitpicking, watching Charles remain silent, and felt a slight urge to laugh. This was the home Charles and I had lived in for thirty years. Every piece of furniture had been meticulously chosen, yet now they were deemed worthless. Elaine intimately linked arms with Charles. “See how opinionated the children are? This house needs a complete overhaul. We can’t shortchange ourselves.” Charles finally slowly raised his head and glanced at me. “Anya, are your things packed? Take everything at once. No need to keep coming back for this and that. It saves everyone the awkwardness.” His meaning was clear: once I left this time, don’t come back, don’t be an eyesore to their family of four. I averted my gaze, picked up the bag I’d just packed, and stood at the doorway, taking one last look at this house that had once been mine. Elaine was delicately leaning on Charles, peeling an orange. Her two children sat side-by-side on the sofa, watching TV. The three of them laughed and chatted occasionally. It was as if this home had always been this way, made up of their family of four, with no place for me. Charles’s gaze towards Elaine held the respect for the mother of his two children, the guilt for keeping her hidden all these years. As for me, I was merely an old woman they both found irritating, without children or grandchildren to support me, destined to fend for myself. A cold laugh echoed in my heart. Fine. Since you want to drive me away, I’ll leave decisively. So you can fully enjoy this fleeting charade. Because in a few days, it will be you all hating and fighting each other. I turned and left the house without looking back. 3. The Lonely Sunset After the divorce, I moved into an apartment, not far from my old home, but now two different worlds. I didn’t feel any particular difficulty adjusting. Without Charles at home, I found a sense of peace. But outsiders didn’t see it that way. “No matter how capable and free-spirited you were in your youth, you still lost in the end.” This was the common opinion among my friends and relatives. My mother, seeing me, couldn’t help but wipe away tears: “Anya, you’re living alone now, no one to take care of you. What if you fall ill someday?” “Before, when you said DINK, you meant DINK. You insisted on it. Now what? How wonderful it would be to have a child, at least you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” My father sighed, his face full of regret: “We really shouldn’t have let you have your way back then. If we had tried harder to persuade you, you wouldn’t be living like this now.” All their words implicitly blamed my insistence on being DINK for losing my husband’s heart. The most ridiculous part was my friends, who also felt Charles had done nothing wrong. “Men, you know, they need children. Charles was willing to play along with you for so many years, that’s already more than enough.” “You were too stubborn back then. All these years, I’ve never understood what you were aiming for.” “Exactly. If you ask me, since you’re both old now, Elaine would still call you ‘older sister.’ Why not just try to make it work, all living together?” I thought they would at most advise me to accept Charles’s children, but I never expected them to even suggest I share a husband with Elaine. But they didn’t consider that those two children had no blood relation to me. Even if I had stayed, how many good days could I have truly had? When I first insisted on being DINK, I faced pressure from everyone, declaring my absolute decision not to have children, and was criticized as selfish and unfilial. Charles’s parents pressured him to divorce me, but he claimed he didn’t mind and just wanted to live a good life with me. Moved by this, I became even more resolute in my decision. For decades, I compromised, taking all the blame myself, preserving his reputation, and even his own masculine confidence and dignity. Only to discover that he had brought me nothing but utter deception. He didn’t pressure me to have children for him because I wasn’t his only woman. If I didn’t have kids, he could just have other women do it. And he could still maintain a reputation for loving and protecting his wife, and even gain my parents’ trust and support. Why wouldn’t he? When I discovered the truth, I never imagined that the husband I’d always thought was gentle and refined could be so deeply manipulative. I was wrong, but my mistake wasn’t in not having children. It was in taking it upon myself to preserve his masculine dignity. For this, I was even willing to give up my right to be a mother. Therefore, I plotted for years, just waiting for the moment he could no longer keep up the act, to strike him a heavy blow.

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My mother-in-law had a stroke and collapsed, blood pooling on the floor. I calmly grabbed a mop and cleaned the spreading stain. As her son-in-law, I deliberately let the golden six-minute window for stroke intervention pass. In my last life, I was the first to find her. I immediately called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital. But the surgery required a signature from a direct family member. When I called my wife to come and sign, she accused me of being jealous of her time with her first love, convinced it was just a ploy to get her to come home. She refused to sign. My mother-in-law died without receiving timely treatment. My wife, Jessica, missed her mother’s final moments and pinned all the blame on me. When I wasn’t looking, she attacked me with a kitchen knife, hacking me to death. “This is all your fault! My mom was so old, and you, her son-in-law, couldn’t even take care of her! Since you failed your duty to her in life, you can go to hell and continue serving her there!” I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day my mother-in-law collapsed. … My eyes snapped open again, and there she was, lying on the floor. I’ve had a severe fear of blood since I was a child. My first instinct was to call my wife. But as I unlocked my phone, the memory of her slashing at me with that knife flooded my mind, vivid and inescapable. The phantom pain was still there. My finger froze. I stopped myself from calling Jessica and dialed her cousin, Rebecca, instead. She picked up almost immediately. “Honey, you have to come home! Mom fell, she’s bleeding from her head, there’s so much blood! What do I do? You know I can’t handle blood, please, come back quick!” I feigned panic, pretending I’d dialed the wrong number, my voice thick with a desperate, choked sob. “Don’t panic, I’m on my way,” Rebecca said, her voice calm and steady. Her house was close, less than a ten-minute walk away. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I threw it open, putting on a look of surprise. “Rebecca? I… I thought I called Jessica.” She didn’t explain, just told me to pick up my mother-in-law and follow her. By the time we reached the hospital, the blood had soaked through my shirt. “Who’s the patient’s next of kin? It’s an emergency, we need a signature from a direct relative!” a nurse rushed out of the ER, clutching a critical condition notice. “I’m her son-in-law, I’ll sign.” “No, it has to be a direct blood relative.” She then looked at Rebecca. “I’m her niece,” Rebecca explained. The nurse frowned. “Does the patient have any other family?” “Nurse, please, just start the surgery. I’ll contact the next of kin,” I pleaded. The nurse hesitated, then rushed back into the ER with the form. Right there, in front of Rebecca, I pulled out my phone and called my wife. The first call went to voicemail. The second call, the same. The third call finally connected. I put it on speaker, and Jessica’s impatient voice filled the hallway. “What is your problem? Are you trying to die? Stop calling me!” “Jessica, Mom fell. She’s bleeding a lot, and they need a signature from a direct relative. You need to get to Peace Memorial Hospital now!” The same cold indifference as last time. The image of her wielding that knife flashed in my mind, and my gaze turned to ice, but I kept up the act. Jessica shrieked into the phone. “If Mom fell, you take her to the hospital! Why are you calling me? I’m not a doctor! You know I’m with Ryan, so you’re just jealous and making this up, aren’t you? Well, it won’t work! Are you completely useless? Can’t you survive for five minutes without me?” Then, a soft male voice murmured in the background. “Jess, I’m scared…” Before I could say another word, she hung up. The strangers in the hallway were looking at me with pity. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white, forcing a bitter smile. Rebecca was furious, pacing back and forth in front of the ER. “Call her again!” she snapped. “I refuse to believe some man is more important than her own mother!” It was just like my past life, except last time, I had hidden in a stairwell to make the calls alone. This time, everyone here was my witness. I did as she said, dialing again in front of everyone. This time, it rang twice before being disconnected. When I tried again, I found she had blocked my number. On the outside, I looked devastated. Inwardly, a massive wave of relief washed over me. I collapsed onto a hallway chair. Rebecca kicked a nearby chair in frustration, then pulled out her own phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Jessica’s number. I looked up at her, my face a mask of gratitude. The call connected instantly. Rebecca didn’t waste a second. “Jessica, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing! Get your ass to Peace Memorial Hospital! Now!” The background on her end was noisy, like a party. “Becca? Wow, that Mark is really something else. He actually got you in on his little drama? I expect this nonsense from him, but you too? I’m busy right now, I don’t have time for these games! Every single time I come to see Ryan, he pulls a stunt like this, making up excuses to get me to come home. And this time he dragged you into it! Can’t he be independent for once? I have to go, bye!” Before Rebecca could get another word in, Jessica hung up. Rebecca stared at her phone, stunned, then began dialing again and again. But all she got was the cold, robotic voice of the service provider. She went from anger to helplessness to pure disappointment. Finally, Jessica blocked Rebecca’s number too. Rebecca couldn’t contain her rage any longer, screaming curses at the silent phone. I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In reality, I was hiding the smile I couldn’t suppress. A nurse from the main desk sighed, walking over with a sympathetic look. She handed me her phone. “Here, try mine. A life is on the line.” I took it, looking at her with profound thanks. The call went through. The moment Jessica heard my voice, she exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you? If you want to die so badly, just do it! Can’t you live without me? The sound of your voice makes me sick! We’re getting a divorce as soon as I get back. I can’t take this anymore, you pathetic idiot!” She slammed the phone down. The pity from the onlookers had now curdled into anger. “What’s the point of having a daughter like that? Her own mother is dying, and she’s off with her side piece!” “What a disgrace to women. Disgusting.” When you’re hurting, you can swallow any amount of pain as long as no one sees. But the moment someone shows you a shred of kindness, the dam breaks. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. A man who had been watching the whole spectacle handed me a business card. I glanced at it: Arthur Wallace, Divorce Attorney. I discreetly slipped the card into my pocket. After what felt like an eternity, the light above the operating room finally went out. The doctor emerged, pulling off her mask with a weary sigh. She looked at Rebecca and me and shook her head. “She was too old, and she lost too much blood. We did everything we could.” She didn’t say another word, just walked past us. The funeral should have been arranged by Jessica, but Rebecca forbade anyone from contacting her. “That ungrateful child doesn’t deserve to be called my aunt’s daughter. It’s a tragedy my aunt loved that monster her whole life, only to raise a viper!” Rebecca’s eyes were blazing with a fire she could barely control. She was the most respected and capable person in the family, so no one argued. So, Rebecca and I made the arrangements. Just when I thought Jessica wouldn’t show, she did. It was the day of the burial. We were all gathered, about to leave for the cemetery, when Jessica’s furious roar came from the doorway. “Mark, get your ass out here! Who gave you the right to do this? You’re so desperate to trick me into coming back that you got everyone to lie for you? Fine! You’ve really outdone yourself!” The moment I saw her, the paralyzing terror of my death in the last life washed over me. I clutched the funeral portrait of her mother, my body shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down my face. “Have you lost your mind?” Rebecca screamed, stepping in front of me. “We called you over and over again! And what did you say? You were with that worthless man and refused to listen! And now you show up and put on this act for who? Get out! Our family doesn’t have a monster like you! Get out!” It was the first time I’d ever seen Rebecca so furious. “Becca, what has he done to you all?” Jessica cried. “What poison has he fed you to make you all lie to me like this? No, I have to ask my mom. I need to know what she was thinking, going along with this ridiculous charade!” She started shouting for her mom, looking around wildly. Rebecca closed her eyes and let out a deep, pained sigh. She carefully placed the urn on the altar, then strode over to Jessica, grabbing her and dragging her in front of it. “Kneel! You were looking for your mother? She’s in there! How ignorant, how stupid can you be to think we’re all lying to you? How dare you!” Rebecca was so emotional that her husband, David, tried to calm her, placing a hand on her arm. But he seemed to freeze, then awkwardly pulled his hand away. Jessica stared at the urn on the altar, then at the portrait in my hands, and collapsed to the floor. She clawed at her hair, sobbing hysterically. Suddenly, her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto me with a venomous glare. She lunged at me like a wild animal, screaming. “It’s all your fault! My mom was so old, and you, her son-in-law, couldn’t even take care of her! Since you failed your duty to her in life, you can go to hell and continue serving her there! Die! Die! Die!” I was caught completely off guard. Her hands closed around my throat, squeezing with terrifying strength. A woman in a rage is a fearsome thing. Even as a grown man, I couldn’t break her grip. Just as my vision started to black out, the pressure on my neck released. I scrambled away, gasping for air. Rebecca and another man had pulled Jessica off me. I shakily wiped the tears from my eyes. Rebecca slapped Jessica hard across the face. “Snap out of it!” But Jessica was seeing red. She was about to lunge at Rebecca when her phone rang. The ringtone was a custom recording of Ryan’s voice. It was his unique caller ID. It was clear how much she loved him. Even in this state of pure rage, she calmed down enough to answer his call. “Hello? Okay. I’m on my way. Don’t be scared.” She hung up and started for the door.

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While recovering after giving birth, I came across a post online. “My mistress is due soon and wants to give birth abroad. My mom loves her and wants to go with her. But my wife just had a baby. How do I get my wife to let us go?” The comments were furious, but the poster had liked one reply. “Easy. Just tell her your mom’s sick and needs treatment abroad.” I was still wondering who the unlucky wife was when my husband walked in with a fake medical report. “Honey, my mom has a heart problem. She needs urgent surgery overseas. I’ll have to go with her.” Looking at the report in my husband Lucas’s hand, my heart trembled as that post involuntarily came to mind. It had to be a coincidence, right? Lucas was famous for loving his wife devotedly! During my pregnancy, he made me different meals every day. When my body ached during pregnancy, no matter how tired he was after work, he would massage me until I fell asleep. The day I went into labor, he paced anxiously outside the delivery room. After the baby was born, everyone gathered around the child smiling, but he alone gripped my hand tightly, crying his eyes out. “I’m sorry you had to suffer.” After the baby was born, he turned down all his work and stayed home with my mother-in-law Rachel to take care of me and the child. During the day, Rachel did the housework. He fed the baby, changed diapers, and gave baths. He even moved to the guest room with the baby so I could sleep well at night. How could a husband who pampered me like this possibly do such a thing? I hesitated, then instinctively asked. “Wasn’t she in good health?” “Why does she suddenly need urgent surgery?” Lucas shook his head, his face full of anxiety. “I don’t know either. Mom’s been saying her chest felt uncomfortable these past few days, so I took her to the hospital for a checkup. The doctor said her condition is serious and she needs surgery right away.” “After that, she’ll need two months of recovery.” Two months. Just enough time to care for a woman through childbirth and recovery. My heart sank, but I still probed tentatively. “I know the best internal medicine doctor abroad. Should I contact them for you?” Lucas waved his hands hurriedly. “No, no need.” Seeming to realize his overreaction, he immediately recovered, gripping my hand tightly with a guilty expression. “Winnie, you just gave birth. I already feel terrible that Mom and I can’t stay here to take care of you.” “How could I let you worry about these things?” As he said this, Lucas’s eyes were red. As if he felt incredibly sorry for me. But my gaze was fixed on his hand. On his right hand, between thumb and index finger, there was a scar. Identical to the profile picture of the person who had posted. If I remembered correctly, this scar was from three months ago. I had just finished a prenatal checkup, and Lucas was taking me out of the hospital. A large unleashed German Shepherd suddenly charged at me, teeth bared. Without thinking, Lucas blocked me and fought the dog with his bare hands. In the end, the dog bit off a piece of flesh from his hand. Blood flowed freely. Lucas had seventeen stitches. I was heartbroken and kept wiping away tears, but Lucas smiled and comforted me. “Don’t cry. As long as you and the baby are safe, this scar is worth it. Even if my whole hand was ruined.” The scar that once symbolized his love now stabbed painfully at my heart. I reached out and touched the scar between Lucas’s thumb and finger. “Does your scar still hurt?” Lucas froze, then curled his hand. “It stopped hurting long ago. Why do you suddenly ask?” I lowered my eyes and said softly. “I just suddenly remembered the past.” “You were so good to me and the baby back then.” Lucas smiled indulgently and gripped my hand tightly. “Silly, am I not good to you now?” “From the moment you got pregnant, I swore I’d protect you and the baby with my life.” As he spoke, his eyes reddened, and he said with utmost sincerity. “Winnie, I know I shouldn’t leave you at a time like this.” “But she’s my mother. She raised me alone. I can’t bear to let her go abroad for surgery by herself.” “You understand, don’t you?” Looking at his expectant, anxious eyes, I nodded. “Of course.” “Her condition is so serious. How could I stop you from being a filial son?”

Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. “Marrying such an understanding wife is the greatest fortune of my life.” He looked at me with tender affection, his gaze as deep and loving as always. But I would no longer be moved by it as I once was. At this moment, I couldn’t help but feel curious. Of all the love I had once been so proud of, how much was real and how much was fake? When did he and that woman start? As I pondered this, Rachel came in. She had obviously heard our conversation. As soon as she entered, she spoke with red eyes. “Winnie, I’m sorry. I’m old and useless. Instead of helping you, I’m causing you trouble when you need care the most.” Her voice choked, her eyes brimming with tears. Looking at her, I felt a mix of emotions. In all our years of marriage, Rachel and I had always gotten along well. Every year on her birthday, I remembered better than Lucas, starting to prepare her gift a month in advance. When she mentioned her hometown house was too old, I emptied my savings without a word to hire a construction team to renovate it into an elegant villa. Last year when she accidentally broke her leg and was hospitalized, I went to the hospital every day to keep her company, helping her bathe, feeding her, and dealing with her bodily waste. At that time, she held my hand, moved to tears. “Winnie, you’re the best daughter-in-law in the world.” “If my son ever does anything to wrong you, I’ll be the first to deal with him.” I believed her. I thought sincerity could be met with sincerity. But I never expected that Rachel, who had promised to stand up for me, would actually go with her son to serve another woman through her postpartum recovery after I had just given birth. How ridiculous. I looked at her and forced a smile, saying softly. “Don’t say that. Your health comes first. I’ll be fine here.” Hearing this, Rachel nodded with relief. “Good, good child.” “Don’t worry. Once I recover, I’ll come back and take good care of you and the baby. I won’t let you suffer any grievance.” I laughed lightly and said nothing. Lucas booked tickets for tomorrow. Early the next morning, he and Rachel came to my room with their luggage. They kept reminding me to stay warm and not to touch cold water. Perhaps because they weren’t at ease, or perhaps to play their parts thoroughly. They even took notes of many precautions and left them on my bedside table. Their endless instructions seemed reluctant to leave. When Rachel left the room, she even wiped her eyes. “Winnie, I really can’t bear to leave you or the baby, but this illness won’t wait. I have no choice.” Lucas put his arm around my shoulder, eyes red. “I’ve already hired a postpartum nanny for you. As soon as Mom recovers, I’ll come back. I promise I won’t stay a day longer.” I nodded and watched them leave. After they had gone far, I suddenly remembered something.

Thinking of that thing, I immediately called my parents and asked them to come over. Sensing my urgency, my parents came to my house as quickly as possible. “What’s wrong, Winnie? Why did you call us over so urgently?” I didn’t hide anything. I told them everything about Lucas and Rachel deceiving me to go serve the mistress. After hearing this, my dad was completely in disbelief. “Winnie, could this be a misunderstanding? Everyone can see how good Lucas is to you.” “And Rachel has really treated you like her own daughter all these years.” “How could the two of them conspire to deceive you?” “Could it just be a coincidence? What if Rachel really is sick?” My mom immediately rejected this. “Impossible!” “I saw her dancing in the square downstairs just the other day. She danced for two whole hours without even getting winded. Her body is tougher than an ox. How could she have heart disease?” “That Lucas! When he married you, he kowtowed until his head bled, saying he’d treat you well. Now he dares to team up with his mother to deceive you like this?” My mom was very angry. But I was more confused. As my dad said. All these years, Lucas had been very good to me. He was young and accomplished, handsome, and never lacked young girls throwing themselves at him. Even his company owner’s daughter had shown him favor. She had even openly stated that as long as Lucas was willing to be with her, the whole company could take his surname. But Lucas remained completely unmoved. He even offended her for it and was nearly blacklisted by the entire industry. Despite this, he remained steadfast and said to me. “I can lose the whole world, but I can’t leave you.” As for Rachel, she treated me even better than her own son Lucas. Once, in the middle of the night, I had acute appendicitis and was in so much pain I couldn’t stand. Lucas was on a business trip at the time. It was Rachel who carried me on her back through the freezing winter wind and snow for several miles to get me to the hospital. That day, Rachel’s legs were so frozen they nearly had to be amputated. But she was afraid I’d feel guilty, so she endured the pain and never told me. Later, when Lucas came back and found both her legs had turned black, he rushed her to the hospital. Even the doctor was alarmed, saying she was gambling with her life. But Rachel said, “As long as Winnie is okay, I don’t care what happens to me.” It was precisely because I had genuinely felt their love that I couldn’t understand. What kind of woman could make Lucas, who loved me so much, and Rachel, who treated me as her own daughter, both betray me at the same time?

“Let’s go. We’re going to the airport right now to see what’s really going on.” My dad suddenly stood up, grabbed the car keys, and headed for the door. My mom followed closely, cursing as she walked. “Right. I want to see what kind of vixen can bewitch this whole family like this.” I handed the baby to the nanny and got in the car with them. Sitting in the car, my mom kept muttering. “That ungrateful Lucas. He knelt at our door for three days and nights before I agreed to let my daughter marry him. And now? His wife just gave birth, and he turns around to serve his mistress and her illegitimate child?” “And Rachel, saying she treats her daughter-in-law like her own daughter. And what happened? Her daughter-in-law is suffering this injustice and she doesn’t care, but runs off to take care of another woman?” “If I catch them really doing something to wrong my daughter, I’ll make them pay!” My mom was furious. When Lucas was pursuing me, she had disagreed. She thought Lucas’s family background was ordinary and he wasn’t good enough for me. It was Lucas kneeling at our door for three days and nights, kowtowing until his head bled, that made my mom relent. My dad drove silently without responding. I saw from the rearview mirror that his brow was tightly furrowed, thinking about something. After about twenty minutes of driving, I suddenly saw Lucas’s car parked in front of a roadside villa. “Stop, Dad, stop!” Hearing my urgent shout, my dad quickly found a place to stop, then turned to look at me. “What’s wrong, Winnie? Aren’t we going to the airport to find Lucas?” My mom was also confused. “Yeah, we need to hurry to the airport and catch them red-handed!” I pointed at Lucas’s car. “He hasn’t gone to the airport yet. He’s probably here to pick up his mistress.” With that, I got out of the car. Then headed straight for the villa. But I didn’t notice that in the car, my parents’ faces both changed dramatically as they looked at the villa. Seeing me walk toward the villa, my dad immediately got out of the car and blocked my way. “Winnie, are you sure Lucas came here to pick up that woman?” Seeing my dad’s strange expression, I felt something was wrong. “What’s wrong, Dad? Do you know this place?” My dad opened his mouth but made no sound. At this moment, my mom also caught up. She looked at the villa, swallowed nervously with a panicked expression, then said to me gravely. “Winnie, let’s go back.” “Stop investigating.” I looked at my mom in disbelief. “Why?” “Mom, you were the one who said we should investigate. You were the most eager, saying we had to catch them red-handed, weren’t you?” “Now they’re right in front of us. Why are you telling me to stop?” My mom didn’t answer me. Instead, she grabbed my arm and pleaded tearfully. “Winnie, I’m begging you. Let’s go back.” “Stop this investigation here, okay?” My dad also walked over, his face serious. “Winnie, listen to your mother. Let’s go back first.” “We’re doing this for your own good.” I was completely confused. I didn’t get why my parents, who were just so ready to defend me, flipped after they saw this villa. Was there a problem with this villa? Or was something wrong with the people inside? Just as I was puzzled, the villa’s main door opened. I turned sharply. I immediately saw Lucas and Rachel on either side, carefully supporting a heavily pregnant woman as she came out of the villa. The moment I saw that woman’s face clearly, my eyes widened as I suddenly understood everything…

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I found an empty box in Ethan’s study. It should have held a stack of wish coupons that read: “Ethan promises to unconditionally fulfill one wish for Zara.” I made them by hand during our first year of marriage. He said he’d save them up, and we’d cash them in slowly when we were old. Now, the box was empty. He used the last one a week ago. I saw it with my own eye. He handed that coupon to Blair, his voice gentle. “Blair, ask for anything you want.” And I stood outside the hospital room, having just lost our second child. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan popped up. “Zara, I’ll have my assistant take you to handle the paperwork tomorrow. Blair’s emotionally unstable. I need to stay with her.” I touched my flat stomach and suddenly remembered seven years ago. He was at this same hospital, kneeling beside my bed with red eyes. “Zara, I swear I’ll never let you down in this lifetime.” How ridiculous. The wish coupons were gone. So was the love. When I returned home from my hospital follow-up, my abdomen still ached with the dull pain from the D&C procedure. A woman’s soft laughter floated from the living room. I steadied myself against the wall and saw Blair sitting on my sofa, wearing my silk bathrobe. Ethan had his back to me, pouring her water. “Ethan, Zara won’t be upset that I’m wearing this, will she?” Blair’s voice was soft, her fingers brushing over the collar of the robe. “She won’t.” Ethan handed her the water, his tone carrying a tenderness I hadn’t heard in ages. “Your clothes were soaked through. You couldn’t go home in wet clothes.” I stood in the shadows of the entryway, watching this scene, and suddenly the pain in my lower abdomen intensified. “Ethan.” I spoke abruptly, my voice hoarse. They both turned around. A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes, but he quickly recovered. He walked over, his tone softening. “How was the follow-up? What did the doctor say? Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?” I didn’t answer his questions. I just pointed at Blair. “Why is she here? Why is she wearing my clothes?” Blair immediately stood up, her eyes reddening on cue. “Zara, I’m so sorry. The rain was so heavy today. I came to drop off some documents for Ethan and accidentally fell.” “I let her take a shower and change clothes.” Ethan interrupted her, his tone matter-of-fact. “Zara, Blair’s father just went into the ICU. You’ve always been kind. I’m sure you won’t make a big deal out of this.” Make a big deal? I clutched my stomach and suddenly laughed. Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What are you laughing at?” “I’m laughing at myself.” I looked up at him, my eyes so dry they hurt. “Ethan, we lost our child.” “Last week, I was on the operating table alone. I signed the consent form alone. I heard the doctor say alone that everything had been cleared out.” “And you were here, pouring water for another woman, letting her wear my bathrobe.” With each sentence I spoke, Ethan’s face grew paler. Blair spoke up on cue, her voice tearful. “Ethan, I didn’t know Zara had surgery. I really didn’t know.” “It’s not your fault.” Ethan patted the back of her hand, then turned to me. “Zara, I’m sorry about the child, but Blair’s father was in critical condition. A life at stake. Surely that’s more important than-” “More important than my child.” I finished the sentence for him. “I know. I understand. The bigger picture comes first.” I walked into the living room, heading straight for Blair. She instinctively stepped back, but I grabbed the belt of the bathrobe. “Take it off.” I said calmly. “This is my robe. You don’t deserve to wear it.” Blair’s eyes grew redder as she looked pleadingly at Ethan. Ethan stepped forward, instinctively gripping my wrist. “Zara!” Seeing my pale face, he quickly let go, his tone urgent. “Are you okay? I was just worried.” “It’s just a robe. If you don’t like that Blair wore it, throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one.” When I looked up, I saw Ethan standing protectively in front of Blair. “Blair, go rest in the guest room.” He said softly, turning his head. Then he turned to me, his voice softening. “Zara, about the child-we can have another one.” I didn’t speak. I just turned and walked toward the bedroom. He followed, gently wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin resting in the curve of my shoulder. “I’m sorry.” “I should have been with you yesterday, but Blair’s dad suddenly went into emergency. She couldn’t handle it alone. To keep everything stable, I had to be there for her.” It was always like this. When Blair needed him, he had to go. And when I needed him, I was always second to the bigger picture.

That night, Blair stayed at our house. Ethan let me have the master bedroom and went to the study himself. Late at night, I woke up from abdominal pain and wanted to get hot water from the kitchen. As I passed the guest room, I heard muffled crying inside. The door was slightly ajar. I saw Ethan sitting on the edge of the bed, Blair leaning against him, her shoulders shaking. “Ethan, I’m so scared. If Dad dies, I’ll have no family left.” “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” Ethan gently patted her back. Once upon a time, when I had period cramps, he held me like that and said, “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” Now, his embrace belonged to someone else. I turned to leave but knocked over a vase in the hallway. Crash! Both of them looked over. Ethan’s face showed panic as he quickly tried to explain. “Blair suddenly said she was scared tonight, afraid her father would leave her. So I came to talk with her.” I looked at him and suddenly felt so tired. “Ethan, right now, immediately-get her out of my house!” Blair walked out of the room. She’d already changed back into her own clothes, her eyes red and swollen. “Zara, I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now.” As she spoke, her legs gave out and she fell straight toward Ethan. Ethan instinctively caught her. “I feel so dizzy.” Blair leaned against him, her voice weak. “I think I caught a fever from the rain today.” Ethan touched her forehead, his expression changing. “You’re burning up!” He scooped Blair up in his arms and looked at me pleadingly. “Zara, look-Blair has a fever. Can she stay a little longer?” “I’ll help her with the medicine and then come be with you! I promise!” “Then call an ambulance.” I didn’t budge. “Or should I call one for you?” Seeing I wouldn’t relent, Ethan could only smile apologetically. “Okay, okay. Don’t be angry, Zara. I’ll take her away right now.” With that, he had Blair go downstairs first. I said nothing. He came over to kiss my forehead, but I turned my head away. He sighed and grabbed his coat. “Don’t be upset. Wait for me to come back, and we’ll talk properly.” The door closed. I stood there, listening to the elevator descend. I suddenly remembered last month, on my birthday. He promised to have dinner with me, but he left because of one phone call from Blair. That night I waited until dawn. He came back at three in the morning, reeking of alcohol, shoving a box into my hands. “To make it up to you. Open it.” Inside was a diamond necklace. “Do you like it?” He kissed my neck. “Zara, I love you most.” Back then, I still softened. I still thought that deep down, he remembered me. How foolish. Ethan didn’t come home all night. The next morning, he returned with breakfast. “Blair was in bad shape last night. I took her to the hospital planning to come right back, but then her father’s condition suddenly worsened.” He explained while changing his shoes. He set the coffee and bread on the dining table and came over to touch my face. “Why are your eyes swollen? Didn’t you sleep well?” I avoided his hand. His movement froze, his eyes dimming. “Zara, I know you’re angry, but that was a life at stake. I couldn’t just ignore it.” “So my child’s life doesn’t count?” I heard my own voice, terrifyingly calm. Ethan’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, but in the end just took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but what’s done is done. Can we please stop torturing each other? Blair really…” “She’s really pitiful.” I finished for him. “She needs you, and I’m strong. I can handle things myself, right?” He was left speechless, guilt and frustration flashing in his eyes. Finally, he crouched down in compromise, gripping my hand. “Zara, I promise this is the last time.” “Once her father’s condition stabilizes, I’ll keep my distance from her. We’ll live well together and have another child, okay?” His palm was warm, his eyes sincere. For a brief moment, I almost believed him. But then I saw his phone screen light up with a message. “Ethan, thank you for being with me. Without you, I really couldn’t hold on.” Sender: Blair.

My wedding anniversary with Ethan was on Friday. He’d promised a week ago to take me to my favorite stargazing restaurant. I’d even secretly prepared a gift. At 6 p.m., I started doing my makeup and picking out a dress. At six-thirty, his message came. “Sorry Zara, there’s an emergency meeting. I might be an hour late. Can you go to the restaurant first and wait for me? I’ll be there as soon as possible.” I typed back. “What meeting?” He replied instantly. “Final negotiations for the acquisition. The other party suddenly changed their terms. I have to be there.” Very reasonable. I went to the restaurant alone. The server came several times asking if I wanted to order. Each time I said to wait a bit longer. Seven-thirty. Ethan didn’t come. Eight o’clock. He sent a photo of a conference room. “Still at a standstill. Sorry, babe.” Nine o’clock. The restaurant was about to close. I picked up my bag to leave, but through the window, I saw the huge LED screen across the street at the mall. It was playing financial news. In the frame, Ethan wore a sharp suit, smiling as he gave an interview. And beside him, Blair in a white dress was holding his arm. The caption scrolled. “Jameson Group heir Ethan with his female companion at charity gala-wedding bells soon?” I stood on the street, cold all over. My phone buzzed. Another message from him. “Finally done! I’m heading over now. Wait for me!” I stared at those words and suddenly laughed. When Ethan arrived, the restaurant lights were already off. He found me on the street, his face full of apology. “Zara, I’m sorry. The negotiations dragged on too long. Why are you waiting out here? Aren’t you cold?” He took off his jacket to drape it over my shoulders. I dodged. He froze. “Are you angry? It really was work.” “Ethan.” I interrupted him, looking up at him. “Did the negotiations go well?” His eyes flickered, and he forced a smile. “It was… okay. The other party was difficult.” “I see.” I nodded. “And the charity gala? Did that go well too?” His expression changed drastically. The air went dead silent. After a few seconds, he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “You saw? I didn’t mean to hide it from you. Blair insisted I accompany her.” “She said it was her father’s dying wish to see her in the spotlight once. I couldn’t refuse.” Couldn’t refuse again. “So you lied to me?” I heard my voice trembling. “Ethan, today is our wedding anniversary.” He panicked, reaching for my hand. “I know! I remembered! That’s why I rushed over!” “Zara, I was wrong. I’ll make it up to you. Let’s go eat somewhere else.” “No need.” I pulled my hand back. “I’m tired. I want to go home.” Finally, he said hoarsely. “Okay. Let’s go home.” In the car, he drove with one hand and gripped mine tightly with the other. It hurt. When we got home, he pressed me against the door, kissing me fiercely and urgently. “Don’t leave me…” His voice choked. “Zara, I can’t live without you. I thought about you all day today. Really!” I closed my eyes. I felt his tears falling on my face. But my heart-why wouldn’t it warm up anymore? After the anniversary, Ethan started trying to make it up to me. He canceled all evening engagements and came home on time every day. On the weekend, he took me to the countryside to relax. On the terrace of a bed-and-breakfast, he held me while we watched the stars. “Let’s have another child. This time I’ll stay by your side every step of the way. I won’t leave you for a second.” I leaned against him, saying nothing. For a moment, I almost believed everything could go back to how it was. Until his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, instinctively about to decline, then paused. “It’s Blair. Her father might not make it.” I closed my eyes. “Go.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Wait for me.” He left. I sat alone on the terrace until midnight. The inn owner came up with hot milk, hesitating to speak. “Did something happen at home? That gentleman left in such a rush.” I smiled. “Yeah. Something happened.”

Ethan didn’t come back until noon the next day. His voice was hoarse. “Blair’s father passed away at dawn. Blair fainted several times from crying. I couldn’t leave.” I poured him a glass of water. He took it and held my hand. “Zara, this is the last time. Once she finishes handling her father’s affairs, I’ll cut ties completely.” I looked at him. “Can you bear to?” He froze. “She depends on you so much. She needs you so much.” I spoke softly, mockery in my eyes. “Can you really bear to leave her when she’s at her most vulnerable?” His eyes showed struggle, and finally he looked away. “Even if I can’t bear it, I have to. You’re my wife.” I smiled and said nothing. On the day of Blair’s father’s funeral, I went too. Ethan was surprised. “After all, we knew each other.” I said flatly. At the funeral, Blair cried herself into a wreck, barely able to stand. Ethan supported her the entire time. Guests whispered. “Is that Mrs. Jameson? She looks so composed.” “How could she not be? Her husband’s practically someone else’s now.” “I heard Mr. Jameson didn’t even care when his own child was lost because of Blair.” Ethan clearly heard them too. He looked back at me, guilt and urgency in his eyes. He probably wanted me to leave so Blair wouldn’t feel more embarrassed. I didn’t move. After the funeral, Blair walked over with others supporting her and bowed to me. “Zara, I’ve caused you so much trouble during this time.” She looked up, tears streaming. “Don’t worry. Once I finish handling Dad’s affairs, I’ll leave this place and never bother you two again.” Ethan’s expression changed. “Blair, what are you talking about? Where would you even go?” Blair cried harder. “I should have left already. I’ve been too selfish, monopolizing Ethan all this time.” “Stop it!” Ethan cut her off, looking at me. “Zara, Blair has no family now. We can’t force her to leave at a time like this.” I quietly watched them. One crying her heart out, the other looking at her with pained protection. Like a pair of star-crossed lovers. And I was the cold-hearted villain. “Ethan, do you remember what vow you made when we got married?” He froze. I smiled. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I turned and left. He didn’t follow. That night, Ethan came home reeking of alcohol. He found me sitting on the balcony and hugged me tightly from behind. “Zara, I’m sorry.” I didn’t turn around. “You know what? Today at the funeral, I saw Blair wearing a necklace.” His body stiffened. “That necklace. I saw it last year and didn’t buy it because it was too expensive.” “You said it cost too much and you’d give it to me on our next anniversary.” The wind on the balcony was cold. Ethan’s breathing stopped. After a long while, he finally spoke with difficulty. “That was her father’s last gift to her before he died. I didn’t buy it.” “Really.” I laughed. “But the receipt is still in your study drawer, dated last Wednesday.” He let go of me, staggering back two steps. “Zara, let me explain!” “No need to explain.” I stood up and turned to face him. “The wish coupons are all used up, aren’t they?” His pupils contracted sharply. “The last one. You gave it to Blair, telling her to ask for anything she wanted.” I pushed past him and pulled out the very first coupon I’d never been willing to use. “So Ethan, this time my wish is to let me go.”

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My mom has a strange diary. Over the years, whenever someone treats me well, my mom makes them read this diary. I don’t know what’s written inside. I only know that everyone who reads it, without exception, distances themselves from me and turns to fawning over my sister instead. Later, I met my fiancé. He swore to me that no matter what happened, he would always stand by my side. I believed him. Until my mom handed him that diary. Just half an hour later, he became a completely different person. Not only did he publicly break off our engagement, but he also slapped me twice across the face, then turned and knelt before my sister, groveling for her favor. I was completely stunned. I needed to know. What exactly was written in that diary? “You disgusting viper!” “You’re not even worthy of carrying your sister’s shoes! Get lost!” The person speaking was my fiancé, Adrian. Just moments ago, he had been whispering sweet nothings to me. But after one glance at that diary, his face completely changed. I clutched my swollen, burning cheek, my ears ringing. This was the fourth time. Four relationships. Four men who once had eyes only for me. All of them came to despise me to their very bones after reading that black-covered diary. I stared at Adrian, trying to find some trace of a joke on his face. There was none. His eyes held nothing but undisguised disgust and contempt. My sister, Vanessa, lounged triumphantly on the sofa, holding a glass of red wine, a mocking smile playing at her lips. “Claire, I told you. No one could ever truly love trash like you.” She swirled her wine glass and took a sip. Looking down on me from above. The very picture of victory. Adrian immediately rushed over, snatching the glass from her hand and placing it on the table, his face full of fawning eagerness. “Vanessa, don’t drink too much. It’s bad for you. What would you like to eat? I’ll make it for you right now.” My stomach churned with nausea, the sick feeling rising in my throat. Just last night, this man had knelt on one knee and slipped a sparkling diamond ring onto my finger. He had cupped my face and sworn to take me away from this suffocating household. He said that no matter what happened, he would stand by my side without hesitation. But now, he was groveling before the sister I hated most. And my mother sat in the main seat, leisurely flipping through that thick diary. The black leather cover gleamed with an eerie oily sheen under the overhead light. “Claire, accept your fate.” My mother snapped the diary shut and slammed it onto the coffee table with a loud thud. “You’re a jinx. You’ve been cursed your whole life. Anyone who gets close to you ends up in misery.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. I stared at that diary with burning intensity. It was because of that thing that I’d ended up like this. It made everyone who truly loved me abandon me. So I strode toward the coffee table, reaching out to grab it. I needed to see with my own eyes what was written inside that could make everyone change their attitude in an instant. But my mother moved faster than I did. She clutched the diary to her chest and delivered a resounding slap across my face. The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the living room. I staggered back two steps and crashed into the hard edge of the mahogany cabinet. A sharp pain shot through my waist, and I collapsed to the floor. “Don’t touch my things!” my mother snarled. Adrian saw this and immediately rushed over, kicking me hard in the shin. “You dare raise your hand to her? Do you have a death wish?” He towered over me, pointing an accusing finger as spittle flew from his mouth onto my face. I braced my hands against the floor and slowly pushed myself up. I looked at each of them in turn. My mother. My boyfriend. My sister. All people I had once treated with genuine sincerity. But now, one had hit me, one had kicked me, and one watched with cold indifference. How utterly absurd. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I pointed at them and screamed, “You bastards!” “Since you’re all treating me like this, then get the hell out of my house! You don’t deserve to be here!” Yes, this house was mine. I had worked dawn to dusk to save for the down payment. After renovating it, I had joyfully invited my parents and Vanessa to live with me, thinking I could finally have a warm family. But what I got in return was their favoritism and endless pandering to Vanessa. Over the years, they took my salary to buy her new clothes, yet wouldn’t spare me even a bite of meat. They treated Vanessa like a precious treasure and discarded me like garbage. And they used this cursed diary to turn against anyone who was willing to treat me kindly. I’d had enough. Today, I was going to cut ties with these parasites once and for all. Adrian froze for a moment, then burst into wild laughter. “Your house? Claire, stop dreaming.” He turned to look at my mother, his face shifting into a fawning expression. “Your mother already agreed to transfer the deed to Vanessa. This is Vanessa’s house now.” I whipped my head toward my mother. When the property deed first arrived, she had locked it in her safe under the pretense of safekeeping. At the time, I thought, well, she’s my own mother, so I didn’t make a fuss. But I never imagined she would secretly transfer ownership to Vanessa behind my back! “What are you staring at?” My mother snorted coldly. “The money you earn belongs to the family. Vanessa is getting married soon, and this house is perfect for her wedding home.” “I’m your mother. Don’t I even have the right to make that decision?” Vanessa covered her mouth and giggled. “Thanks for the house, Claire. Adrian and I will take good care of it.” I felt the blood in my entire body freeze. They had not only stolen my fiancé but were now seizing my property. It was revolting. But there were three of them against me. The situation wasn’t in my favor. I needed help. After thinking for a moment, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number pinned at the top of my contacts. Professor Martin. He was my college advisor and the only person in this world I truly respected and trusted. Back when I couldn’t afford tuition, he used his own salary to cover it for me. When I got sick with a high fever, he and his wife made soup and brought it to my dorm. To me, he was more like a father. He would surely be willing to help me seek justice. Calling him was the best choice. The phone rang three times before he picked up. His warm, concerned voice came through the line. “Claire? It’s so late-what happened? Why is your voice shaking?” I bit my lip hard, but I couldn’t hold back anymore. A sob broke from my throat. “Professor Martin, my mom took my house. Adrian broke off our engagement. They’re trying to throw me out of my own home.” There was a second of silence on the other end, followed by the loud bang of someone slamming a table. “This is outrageous! Has your mother lost her mind? Where are you right now? Don’t move. I’m coming to you immediately!” Half an hour later, Professor Martin’s black sedan screeched to a halt in front of our building. With a loud crash, he kicked open the half-closed door.

Everyone froze, staring at each other. Seeing an outsider barge in, the smile on my mother’s face instantly vanished, replaced by vicious anger. “Professor Martin, what the hell are you doing barging in here in the middle of the night? This is trespassing! I could call the police!” Professor Martin stormed to the coffee table and swept the champagne tower onto the floor. The crisp sound of shattering glass mixed with Vanessa’s shrieks echoed throughout the room. “Call the police? Go ahead! Claire is your own daughter-born from your own body! You’ve bled her dry, stolen her house to give to this brat, and you still have the nerve to talk about humanity?” My mother let out a cold laugh, slowly rising to her feet and brushing wine droplets off her skirt. “Professor Martin, as an educator, you should watch your language. This is our family’s private matter. What right do you, an outsider, have to interfere?” “Bullshit! Claire is my most outstanding student, and I absolutely will not stand by today!” Professor Martin turned and pointed directly at Vanessa, his voice thundering. “And you, you ungrateful wretch! Don’t forget who raised you all these years!” “Treating your sister like this-do you have any conscience at all?” Adrian shrank back, not daring to say a word. Professor Martin turned back around, placing his broad hand heavily on my shoulder. “Claire, don’t be afraid. I’m here today. Let’s see who dares lay a finger on you.” Looking at Professor Martin’s towering figure, the grief and despair in my heart finally found a small measure of comfort. Just then, my mother suddenly let out a strange laugh and strode into the master bedroom. Ten seconds later, she emerged clutching that black diary. My heart seized, and every hair on my body stood on end. “Professor Martin, don’t rush to play the hero just yet.” My mother forcibly shoved the diary into Professor Martin’s hands, her lips curling into a deeply malicious smile. “Take a look at what’s inside first. After you read it, then decide whether you still want to defend this bitch.” Professor Martin frowned, his face full of suspicion as he accepted the diary and flipped directly to the first page. The living room fell into a deathly silence. Even the sound of breathing was clearly audible. I stared intently at Professor Martin’s face, my nerves stretched to the breaking point. At first, Professor Martin only casually scanned the words on the page. But in just half a minute, his hands began to tremble violently, beyond his control. His breathing became labored, his chest heaving dramatically. Large beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead and slid down his cheeks. I watched as the color drained from his once-ruddy face, leaving him pale as a sheet. “This… this can’t be… you… you actually…” Professor Martin’s voice shook so badly he couldn’t finish a single sentence. He slammed the diary shut and looked up, fixing me with a terrifying stare. That look was filled with endless shock, fear, and bone-deep hatred. “Professor Martin?” I called out tentatively, trying to reach for the edge of his sleeve. But he jerked away. The next second, Professor Martin let out a roar like a wild animal and raised his hand, slapping me hard across the face. He used all his strength. I was sent flying and crashed heavily onto the floor covered in broken glass. Sharp shards pierced my palms and cheeks. Blood streamed down. “You beast wearing human skin!” Professor Martin pointed at me, his eyes bloodshot with rage. I clutched my bleeding face, staring at him in disbelief. “What happened? What the hell is written in that thing?” Professor Martin charged toward me, raised his shoe, and kicked me mercilessly in the chest. The pain curled me into a ball like a shrimp. I opened my mouth wide but couldn’t make a sound. “You have the nerve to ask! You’re an absolute monster! I must have been blind to ever treat you like my own daughter!” Professor Martin turned to my mother, his attitude completely reversed. He even bent slightly at the waist, his tone full of deep apology. “Mrs. Harrison, I apologize for my earlier rudeness. A social menace like her truly doesn’t deserve to stay in this house. She should have been beaten to death long ago!” My mother smugly snatched the diary back and locked it in the bedroom again. Professor Martin crouched down, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and forced my head up. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll submit an application to the university to revoke your degree immediately and remove you from my research team! Trash like you doesn’t deserve to exist in this world!” He slammed my head against the floor and stormed out without looking back. I lay on the cold floor, staring hard at the bedroom. The diary. That diary again. Everyone who read it changed. What secret was hidden inside? What could make them turn on me in an instant? Could it be that my mother deliberately slandered me in the diary? But that didn’t make sense. Professor Martin was a university professor with critical thinking skills. How could he be stupid enough to believe things without evidence? Unless- There was something even more damning in that diary. No. I had to see it with my own eyes. I struggled to crawl forward, trying to rush into the bedroom and open that diary. But Adrian stepped on me, pinning me down. He kicked me in the chest, his eyes vicious. “You want to know what’s in the diary?” “You don’t deserve to know!”

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