Category: English

My husband’s secretary was locked in a car with the windows up for half an hour, and in a fit of rage, he locked me in the storage room. I knelt on the ground, tightly gripping the hem of his shirt, admitting to a mistake I didn’t commit. He impatiently pried my fingers away, stepped on them hard, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Who do you think you are, daring to hurt Chloe?” Suffering from severe claustrophobia, I curled up in the dark, cramped space, gasping for air. My palms were scratched bloody by my own fingernails, yet I still couldn’t resist the suffocating feeling of impending death. A week later, he returned from a trip abroad with his secretary and finally remembered me. But he didn’t know that I had long died in fear and hatred. 1 When Ethan Reed walked into the villa with his arm around Chloe Shen’s waist, the servants had already decorated the house in advance. Rose petals scattered on the floor, a diamond necklace on the dining table, and a three-tier cake with a cartoon girl drawn on it nearby. Everything proclaimed Ethan’s regard for Chloe. Leaning in Ethan’s arms, Chloe saw all this, covered her mouth in surprise, her eyes flashing with tears as she looked at Ethan: “Ethan, you are so good to me!” Ethan affectionately scraped the tip of Chloe’s nose, his tone gentle: “I have another gift for you.” Ethan turned to look at his personal assistant and ordered: “Go call Ava down. I want this bitch to kneel and apologize to Chloe in public.” I looked coldly at this man I had loved for ten years, my heart numb. “Ethan, don’t blame Ava anymore. I believe Ava didn’t mean to hurt me either. We are sisters after all, I will be sad if you punish her.” Chloe’s tone was tinged with a cry, but only I, with the God’s perspective, saw the fleeting viciousness in her eyes. Yes, I am already dead. A week ago, in a rage, Ethan locked me in a storage room less than one square meter to teach me a lesson. I clung to the door frame and admitted all the charges he placed on me, begging him not to lock me in this cramped and dark space so cruelly. But all he left me was a resolute back and that vicious sentence: “I will make you suffer hundreds and thousands of times the harm Chloe suffered. This is what you owe her!” He seemed to have forgotten that I suffered from severe claustrophobia. While he held Chloe’s hand rushing to Finland to see the aurora, I curled up in a ball, breathing with difficulty. I pinched my thighs and arms until they were bloody but couldn’t maintain my increasingly thin consciousness. Until the last moment when consciousness faded, I struggled to break free from that terrifying room. Hearing Chloe pleading for me, Ethan reached out distressingly to touch Chloe’s cheek: “You, you are just too kind, that’s why you are always bullied by her. I won’t let her hurt you again!” I couldn’t help sneering. So in his eyes, I have always been such a vicious person. Everything I paid for him seemed to have become a huge joke. At this time, the assistant ran down from upstairs in panic. 2 “Mr. Reed, there is no response in the storage room. Madam… seems to have stopped breathing.” Panic flashed in Ethan’s eyes, but soon he curled his lips knowingly, his tone containing anger: “Assistant Xu, have you also been bought by Ava?” “I haven’t settled the account with you for helping Ava lock Chloe in the car before, and this time you help Ava lie to me again.” “I think you have forgotten who your boss is. I notify you now, you are fired.” Before Assistant Xu could argue, Ethan took Chloe’s hand and went back to the room. Assistant Xu froze behind them, opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing. I really couldn’t figure out how Ethan turned into what he is now. Clearly, we used to love each other very much. I have known Ethan for ten years, and I accompanied him from starting from scratch to becoming a new prominent figure in the business world today. But only after death did I completely realize that the balance in Ethan’s heart had shifted the moment Chloe appeared. Chloe is Ethan’s private secretary and also my half-sister. A week ago, Ethan took Chloe and Assistant Xu out to inspect partners. It was also that day that my mother, who was in the late stage of cancer, was in rare good spirits, holding my hand and asking about my relationship with Ethan. But in the next second, the values on the monitor dropped straight down. I looked at the closed door of the emergency room and dialed Ethan’s number helplessly. Ethan sat silently with me in front of the emergency room until he received a call from Chloe, his face changing drastically. On the phone, Chloe weakly told Ethan about her fear, not forgetting to ask Ethan to take good care of me, his legal wife. Ethan was full of anxiety, ignored my retention, forgot to even take his coat, and immediately got up to save Chloe. What he didn’t know was that just ten minutes after he left, my mother left this world forever. What’s ridiculous is that at that time I hadn’t seen through Ethan’s regard for Chloe, until he expressionlessly pushed me into the storage room, squatted on the ground, pinched my chin hard, his tone icy: “Ava, I thought you were just jealous. How come I never found out you are such a vicious woman? Chloe is your biological sister, yet you could do such a thing.” “If it weren’t for you and your short-lived mother, how could I not be by Chloe’s side when she was in danger!” “Just reflect on yourself here properly. Come out when you know where you went wrong.” My fingers were trampled ruthlessly under his feet, leaving only numb pain in my heart. And now, he is still waiting for me to bow my head first and admit my mistake obediently. But unfortunately, this time it is destined not to be as he wishes. Ethan stood outside the storage room door, his face full of indifference: “Ava, you should curb your petty temper. You know my patience is very limited.” “If you roll out now and apologize to Chloe properly, I can barely forgive you.” His response was only silence. Ethan impatiently smashed the storage room door hard, his tone gradually becoming fierce: “Fine, if you don’t want to come out, then die inside.” I looked at Ethan’s departing back, a sudden sadness rising in my heart. I seem to have to admit that the man I once loved deeply had rotted unknowingly long ago. 3 For the next few days, Ethan stayed by Chloe’s side and never returned home. I watched him take care of another woman with all his heart, eating with her, watching movies, doing all the things couples do, and could only laugh at myself. This day was my dad’s birthday. Ethan carried big and small bags of gifts and rushed to the Shen family with Chloe early in the morning. My dad, who was watering flowers in the yard, saw the two figures and walked forward with a smile to welcome them in. Chloe ran forward and skillfully took my dad’s arm to act coquettishly, while Ethan just smiled dotingly, carrying things and following behind them. Natural as if the three of them were the family. At the dinner table, Chloe said pleasing words to coax my dad into laughter, and Ethan occasionally picked some dishes Chloe loved for her. From beginning to end, no one mentioned me. It was Ethan’s cell phone ringtone that broke the quiet atmosphere at this moment. Ethan answered the phone, but the words from the other side made his face freeze. “Hello Mr. Reed, I am a doctor at the City Hospital. We received a female corpse today. DNA comparison confirmed that the deceased is your wife, Ms. Ava Shen.” “Is it convenient for you to come to the hospital now to complete the relevant procedures?” Ethan frowned and listened to the other party’s words, then sneered lightly, his tone full of disdain: “Heh, are you also hired by Ava to help her put on a show? Tell Ava for me, don’t think pretending to be dead will make me forgive her.” “Also, this trick is boring.” After speaking, without waiting for the other side to respond, Ethan hung up the phone decisively. Seeing Ethan put down the phone, Chloe spoke with worry in her tone: “Ethan, did something happen to my sister?” Ethan raised his hand to rub the top of Chloe’s hair and shook his head. But in the second half of the dinner, Ethan was obviously absent-minded, picking celery, which Chloe hated the most, for her several times by mistake. Even my dad saw something was wrong with Ethan, so he didn’t force Ethan to stay after the meal. To my surprise, after Ethan drove Chloe home tonight, he rarely didn’t stay overnight at her place but went to the City Hospital. I followed him to outside the cold morgue. His hand was on the doorknob, but he delayed pressing it down. I saw Ethan’s mouth opening and closing, and only heard clearly what he was saying when I got close. “Ava, if I find out you are playing me again this time, I will definitely skin you!” Heh! Even at this time, he is still threatening a dead person. If I could take human form at this moment, I would definitely not be able to control myself from slapping him twice. As if finally mentally prepared, Ethan walked into the morgue. The doctor on duty responsible for guarding the corpses was dozing off in the duty room. Seeing Ethan’s figure, he stood up in horror. “Who are you?” Ethan seemed to hear nothing, walking slowly towards the corpse covered with a white cloth on the bed not far away. “Ava, get the fuck up! Stop pretending!” Ethan clenched his fists tightly, shouting in front of the corpse as if trying hard to suppress his anger. But in front of him was a corpse, how could a corpse respond to him? Ethan suddenly shook my corpse violently like crazy. Somehow, even floating in the air, I seemed to feel severe dizziness. The doctor on duty finally reacted, rushed to Ethan and hugged him who was still going crazy. “Mr. Reed, calm down!” Ethan threw off the doctor hugging him fiercely, his tone agitated: “This can’t be Ava! You are all liars! You are all lying to me!” To be honest, I really haven’t seen Ethan lose his composure like this for a long, long time, but at this moment I couldn’t control the urge to laugh out loud in my heart. The doctor looked at Ethan’s agitated appearance and shook his head, turned back to the duty room, took a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to Ethan. 4 I leaned close to Ethan and found out it was my death certificate. “Mr. Reed, it was the servants in your house who smelled an abnormal odor at home and discovered your wife’s body.” “My condolences.” The doctor patted Ethan on the shoulder, said nothing more, and left the morgue. Only Ethan was left in the room. He squatted on the ground, lowering his head and staring dead at the death certificate in his hand. “How is it possible! Ava, how could you be dead.” “You must be lying to me, right?” “That’s right, it must be so! I will expose your lie now!” Ethan stumbled when getting up, staggering towards the corpse covered with white cloth. “Ava, I give you one last chance. Get up now, and I can pretend nothing happened.” The room was silent. Ethan raised his hand to pinch a corner of the white cloth, but never lifted it. I clearly saw his fingers trembling uncontrollably. A sudden urge to scare him rose in my heart, wanting him to taste fear and despair too. Using all my strength, I blew a breath at the white cloth on the corpse. The white cloth was blown to the ground. The corpse was presented unreservedly in front of Ethan. The face turned blue and purple due to suffocation was shocking even to me. The eyes that couldn’t close until death, the two eyeballs protruded extraordinarily, looking even more scary in the gloomy atmosphere. “Ahhh!” Ethan was scared into sitting on the ground, screaming while moving backward vigorously: “Don’t come over! Don’t come over! I was wrong!” Seeing his comical reaction, the pent-up anger in my heart finally dissipated a bit. Ethan sat on the ground for a long time before recovering. When he stood up, his legs were still trembling non-stop. He moved slowly back to the corpse, staring fixedly at the lifeless corpse on the bed, his eyes scarlet. “How is it possible?” “Nothing happened between me and Chloe Shen. Stop being angry, okay? As long as you come back!” A bean-sized tear fell, followed by a second, a third. I really don’t understand this man a bit. Trampling my sincere heart on the ground when I was alive, and acting hypocritically here when I’m dead. Who is he putting on a show for?

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My mother always called me her “favorite girl,” her “little sweetheart.” She loved to tell everyone that my brother, Jace, wasn’t half as thoughtful as I was. Friends and relatives repeated the sentiment: My mom, Shelly, loved me the most. It was because of my severe childhood allergy to all red meat and seafood proteins. She was tireless, they’d say, constantly making special meals just for me. She’d spend hours online researching recipes for safe, nutritious snacks, terrified that I’d feel deprived. The problem was, Mom was a terrible cook. Everything she made was dry, overcooked, and bland. My father, Gary, worked construction contracts out of state most of the year, leaving Mom to handle Jace and me. If I ever complained to him, he’d just tell me, “Your mother is working so hard taking care of both of you. You need to be more understanding.” So, I endured. I always had. Then came my eighteenth birthday. My mother presented the cake she’d made herself. It wasn’t made with cream or flour. It was constructed from cubes of stale bread. Staring at that lopsided, garishly-colored mockery of a dessert, I finally broke. I lifted the corner of the dining table and sent everything crashing to the floor. “I just wanted a damn cake! Was that too much to ask?” The room erupted. My relatives instantly condemned me as an ungrateful brat. My father, his face purple with fury, slapped me. My mother just stood there, tears streaming down her face, insisting it was all her fault, that she was only worried about my allergies… As the accusations rained down, something snapped. In a blind rage, I grabbed a handful of the leftover beef steak and shrimp from the overturned table and shoved it into my mouth. Everyone froze. … The moment my mother triumphantly carried out the “cake,” my body went rigid. It wasn’t a cake. It was cubes of dry, day-old bread, patched together with sickeningly bright, chemical-tasting frosting. It looked lumpy and grotesque. My mother was beaming, trying to sell the lie. “You know you have such a sensitive system, Maya, you can’t have dairy. This is special, just for you.” She nudged it closer. “Don’t look at it, taste it. It’s actually very good!” I just stared at it, unable to move. My Aunt Elise nudged my arm, her expression tight. “Your mother is talking to you. Think about it, Maya. You’re allergic to everything. Only your mother has the patience to prepare separate meals for you all these years, and now a special birthday cake. See how much she loves you?” Mom’s smile grew wider. “It’s what I should do. Maya is my little sweetheart. Who else would I spoil?” She pushed the foul centerpiece toward me again. The sugary stench, mixed with the stale, yeasty smell of the bread, hit me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shot my hand out and slammed it against the plate. The bread structure hit the floor with a dull thud. “After all these years, all I wanted was one normal birthday cake! Was it really that difficult?” The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Every smile froze. My mother’s eyes instantly welled up. “Maya, I didn’t mean… I was just so worried about your allergies…” Aunt Elise stepped in quickly. “Maya, your mother is trying her best. You can’t speak to her like that.” I dug my nails into my palms. “If you didn’t want to buy me one, I could have bought my own! I’m a legal adult! I’m not spending your money!” I fought back tears of frustration. “This is my eighteenth birthday. I just wanted a good memory! Just stop pretending to be a good person, okay?” The relatives turned on me, their faces sour. “That little girl is so ungrateful!” “You’ve been allergic to every protein since birth! Your mother had to nurse you like this, or you would have starved!” “She’s a spoiled brat. And to be so cruel on your birthday? A total shame.” “Honestly, daughters are just a burden. A son is the only one who takes care of you in the end.” My father, Gary, who had taken unpaid leave to be here, looked mortified. He glared at me. “Maya! How dare you talk to your mother that way! She’s been running herself ragged, she bought you new clothes, a new phone! Apologize. Now!” Mom was weeping silently by the counter. My heart twisted. I snatched the cheap, plastic phone he mentioned—the basic brick phone—and hurled it to the floor. “Who wants this junk?!” “I’m in college now! Why would you buy me a prepaid burner phone?” Everyone paused at the sight of the cheap device. It was the kind of basic model you’d only find in a forgotten corner of a convenience store. But someone always defends Shelly. Aunt Elise shot me a look. “What’s wrong with a simple phone? It’s for calling and emergencies, isn’t it?” “Exactly!” a cousin chimed in. “We never had anything like this when we were young!” Mom quickly scooped up the phone, wiping it clean with a desperate tenderness. She pulled Elise closer, then looked at me with a lost, helpless expression. “Maya, I’m so sorry… Your father works so hard, and expenses are high. We don’t have the money… It’s my fault. I’ll apologize. Next time, when I save up a little more, I’ll buy you a better one. I promise.” Looking into her swollen, red eyes made my chest tighten with a suffocating, familiar rage. My voice came out in a desperate, sharp squeak. “Buy it now, or stop with the performance!” Mom flinched, her hands shaking. “I… I don’t have any cash right now…” I leaned in, aggressive. “Didn’t Dad deposit thirty thousand dollars into your account when he got back? Where is the money?” Her gaze flickered away. “There are so many things the family needs. You don’t manage a household, you don’t understand the costs… Besides, it’s snowing outside, it’s cold. Maya, why don’t you wait? I’ll go later, okay?” Elise gave me a hard stare. “It’s just a phone. When does it have to be bought? You haven’t always been like this, Maya. Why are you acting so materialistic?” The relatives chimed in with fresh condemnations. Mom wiped her tears and tried to play the peacemaker. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Maya is just stressed. Don’t scold her.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small bag of candy. “Here. I specifically bought you some chocolate. Have something sweet to tide you over, don’t starve yourself.” Dad and Aunt Elise stared at me, daring me to protest. “Look how good your mother is to you!” I felt the bag in my hand. It was soft and sticky—the cheap, pre-packaged chocolate had completely melted. My eyes burned with fresh anger. I threw the sticky bag down. “Who needs your cheap pity?” “If you truly loved me, you’d go out and buy me the newest phone and the best cake! If you can’t, then stop talking!” “You spoiled little brat!” Dad’s face went green. “Your mother bought you a treat because she knows you like sweets, and this is how you act?” “She can’t buy me a cake or a phone, but she shoves this cheap candy at me and tries to look like a saint? Go buy a decent cake and a decent phone!” I jutted out my chin and slammed my fist on the counter. My mother began to sob harder. Elise hurried over to comfort her, then looked at me with deep disappointment. “Maya, you’re becoming unrecognizable. How can you treat your mother like this? Your father is never home, she raised you, she sacrificed everything. Forget about repaying her—can’t you even acknowledge her efforts? Over a phone and a cake? Is it really worth it?” Dad’s face was steel. “Don’t bother reasoning with her!” “She’s spoiled rotten! I’m going to teach her a lesson right now!” He raised his hand. “No, stop! Don’t hit her! It’s her birthday!” My mother threw herself against him, hugging his waist. She looked at me, pleading. “Maya, please, don’t be upset. I promise I’ll buy it later.” “We have so many relatives here. Let’s not talk about this now. I made all your favorite dishes. You love fish, remember? I bought a huge salmon and stewed it. Let me go get it…” She rushed into the kitchen and returned with a platter of fish. It looked well-prepared. She forced a smile. “Maya, come try this.” She tugged Dad’s arm, gesturing for everyone to sit down. I fixated on the fish. She used chopsticks to gently place a piece of meat into my plate. The sight of it made every hair on my body stand on end. I grabbed the entire plate and dumped it into the garbage can. “A piece of fish, and you act like it’s a lifetime of devotion! Stop the performance!” My father finally lost control. He lunged across the table and struck me across the face. “You ungrateful viper! I should just kill you!” The relatives joined the chorus of outrage. “Her mother is so good to her! She doesn’t know how lucky she is!” “This kind of child will never be loyal. A complete waste of effort!” “Honestly, why even pay for her college? She’s useless!” I covered my burning cheek, the verbal abuse washing over me. “Look at you! What kind of person are you? I’m going to discipline you properly!” Dad was volcanic. He ripped off his belt and coiled it. My mother rushed back, hugging his waist tightly. “No, no, please, not today! It’s Maya’s birthday. Everything is my fault, not hers!” Dad was beside himself with impotent rage. “Look at you! You’re still protecting her! Does this viper care about you at all?” Elise pulled Mom back, agreeing with Dad for the first time. “He’s right, Shelly! You indulge her too much! She needs a lesson!” Mom looked at me with a pained expression, tears streaming, but still defended me. “Maya is still young. When she’s older, she’ll understand…” Dad and Elise glared, shaking their heads. The relatives sighed. “Look how much your mother loves you…” “She’s still defending you now. Don’t you feel any shame?” Mom sniffled, forcing a breezy lightness. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Everyone stop talking about Maya. I’ll get another cake and another dish.” She bent down to pick up the scattered bread pieces. I couldn’t stand it. I ran forward and kicked the mess of bread aside. “I don’t want your fake goodness!” The room went completely silent. Dad froze for three seconds, then snapped back to reality. The belt lashed out, catching my forearm. A searing, hot pain. “You wicked girl! Who do you think your mother does all this for?” He was beyond reason, whipping the belt down again and again. Mom tried to stop him but was held back by Elise. She just covered her face and sobbed. Soon, a stinging line of blood appeared on my face. I cried out, touching my cheek. My fingertips came away slick. The sight of the blood on my face startled Dad. He paused. I let out a harsh, cold laugh, pushed past him, and kicked over the dining table again, harder this time. “You abandoned me my whole life! What right do you have to hit me?” Seeing my hysteria, Dad’s chest heaved. He spat the words out. “You’re crazy! A total lunatic!” “I knew you were an ungrateful brat! All these years wasted raising you!” “If you’re so unhappy with us, fine! We’ll disown you! I can’t live with this shame, but I can certainly get rid of you!” The relatives, seeing the situation spiral, rushed to mediate. Elise insisted I apologize. I stood completely still. I stared at my father for a long moment. Then, my voice hoarse, I spoke. “Fine. Let’s do it. Disown me.” Dad had only meant to scare me. My immediate acceptance stunned him. Mom rushed to intervene. “No, Maya, your dad just said that in the heat of the moment. Please don’t…” “Don’t speak!” I cut her off, refusing to look at her red eyes. I spoke slowly, deliberately. “Whether he means it or not is irrelevant. I mean it.” Dad felt cornered. He was shaking with rage. “Fine! Fine! You want to be disowned? I’ll sign the papers!” He yelled for my brother. Jace, who had been pretending to hide in his room, came out, shot me a gleeful, spiteful look, and ran out to print the document. He returned quickly, triumphantly handing the paper to Dad. Dad grabbed a pen and signed with a flourish. “From today forward, you are no longer my daughter! You will never see a dime of my money! We won’t pay another cent of your college tuition!” “You hate us so much? Sign this and get out of my house!” The relatives tried to calm us both down. Elise held my hand, pleading for me to say something soft. “Come on, Maya, don’t be dramatic! You’re an adult now, you need to be sensible!” “Life is hard; your mom is under so much pressure. Apologize to her, and your dad will calm down!” I stayed silent. I pulled my hand from hers, picked up the pen, and signed the document decisively. Mom wailed, “Maya, don’t be rash! Don’t do this!” But my pen didn’t stop. Beside my father’s name, I cleanly, forcefully wrote my own. I was done with this house. Seeing my signature, Mom’s sobs grew louder, filled with guilt and self-reproach. She even slapped herself across the face. “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have made that cake…” Dad and Elise watched, their faces grim. I just smiled. “Yes, it is your fault.” Dad’s eyes flashed with fresh anger, and he lunged. I pushed him away and ran into the kitchen. I grabbed the rest of the cooked beef and shrimp, the forbidden food Mom had prepared. In front of the horrified crowd, I began to shove the meat into my mouth. Everyone was shocked. Elise reacted first, trying to pull me away. “Maya, are you insane?! You’re allergic! This could kill you!” I shoved her back, staring hard at my mother, chewing mouthful after mouthful. With every bite I took, my mother’s face went a shade whiter. The relatives were terrified. Someone was yelling for an ambulance. My father stood paralyzed. In just a few minutes, I finished the entire plate of beef and seafood. The paramedics rushed in. The doctor, hurried and worried, asked who had the allergic reaction. All eyes turned to me.

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My wife, Adora Caldwell, was sick again and terrified of calling in. She was shivering on the bed, truly frightened. I wanted to call her office myself to clear her absence, but she pleaded with me, her hand clamped tight around my arm. She just needed me to comfort her, to promise I wouldn’t go near her work. But I went anyway. For her. The receptionist’s eyes widened in confusion as I spoke. “You have to be joking, sir,” she said. “The person you’re asking about is our CEO.” “And our CEO, Ms. Caldwell, comes in and leaves with her husband every day.” “Her husband doesn’t… look like you.” In the next second, the glass elevator doors parted, and my wife—who should have been confined to a sickbed—stepped out, leaning into the arm of Trenton ‘Trent’ Abbott, her college sweetheart. Our eyes met, and the polished smile on her face froze. I looked at the designer clothes, the gold shimmering on her wrists, and the diamond earrings that must have cost more than my annual salary. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Those earrings alone are more than I earn in a year,” I choked out. “And you spent seven years pretending to be a $50,000-a-year junior accountant.” “You told me your startup failed and you were drowning in debt. I sold the only house my parents ever left me to cover your ‘debts.’ I sold code all day and drove for a delivery app all night. I pushed myself so hard I had a bleeding ulcer and still couldn’t afford to take a day off!” “Tell me, Adora. Why did you play me for a fool?” Adora stammered, unable to speak. Trent laughed, patting my shoulder like I was a kid who’d lost a playground fight. “Don’t blame her, man. The night she married you, she swore to me that everything she had—her body, her assets—was still mine.” “So don’t reach for things that don’t belong to you.” Seven years of marriage. I thought we were building a life of quiet solidarity. Instead, I’d been nothing more than a temporary stand-in in someone else’s play. But I was Mark Harrington, her legal husband. Could they really take everything and leave me with nothing but a memory of betrayal? 1 “Shut up, Trent! This is between us! Adora, tell me yourself. Is this true?” I cut off Trent’s smug monologue, my eyes burning. Adora sighed, a sound of weary patience. “Mark, listen to me. I just didn’t want you to become a freeloader, losing your ambition because you knew I was successful. And I didn’t want to hurt your pride. Besides, didn’t you promise you would always take care of me?” “Stop gaslighting me! Seven years! Adora, we’ve been married for seven years! Isn’t that enough time to know who I am? If I was the type to live off my wife’s money, would I have sold the only asset I had—the house my parents left me—to fund your ‘failed’ business?!” My voice cracked. “Or did you think I was stupid enough to be lied to forever?” She released Trent’s hand and reached for mine. “No, Mark. It’s not like that.” I pulled back a step, my footing unsteady on the polished marble floor. My discount store sneakers were worn to the sole, but I hadn’t brought myself to replace them yet. My gaze settled on Trent. He wore Italian leather shoes, a perfectly tailored coat, and a Rolex Submariner flashed on his wrist. Adora had once joked, “When I make it big, I’ll buy you a Rolex so you can flex on Instagram, too.” She bought one, all right. Just not for me. Swallowing the bitter taste, I asked her. “Not what? And what about him?” She glanced at Trent. “Trent is just a partner.” Trent’s mouth immediately dropped. “Rory!” Adora squeezed his hand, a silent signal, before turning back to me. “He was my first love, yes, but you knew that when we got married. I never hid my past from you.” “Now, he’s just a business partner. He’s looking to invest in the company.” I ground my teeth. “Then what did he mean by what he just said?!” Adora shot Trent a cautious look, then offered a flimsy explanation. “Oh, Trent loves to joke around. He was just messing with you…” Trent cut her off before she could finish. “I wasn’t joking. Isn’t that what you told me on a video call the night after your wedding? You said it while Mark was sleeping right beside you…” “Trent!” Adora snapped. He pursed his lips and didn’t say another word. But my heart had already hit rock bottom. It was all true. Adora wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her tone, laced with guilt, shifted into impatience. “Don’t listen to his nonsense, Mark. None of it is true. Just go home, I have a client meeting soon. I’ll explain everything tonight.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “You don’t have to explain.” “Adora, let’s get divorced.” “We’re done. Eight words. I’ll take a million dollars for every year we wasted. That’s a fair buyout for our marriage, isn’t it? It leaves you free to be with him.” 2 “Mark, calm down. Let’s go home and talk this through.” I cut her off. “You mean that seventy-five-square-foot walk-up with the peeling paint? That home?” I couldn’t stop the laugh that felt like a sob. Her face flushed. Employees arriving for work were starting to slow down and watch. She grabbed my arm. “Don’t make a scene here, Mark. It’s unprofessional.” “Let go.” I gritted out. She held fast. “What is this? You’re just mad that I didn’t buy you a bigger car? You want to live off my success? Do you have to act like a victim in public?” “I let you sleep with me for seven years! I didn’t charge you a dime! You should be grateful!” “I’m telling you now, the more you act like this, the less money you’ll ever see from me!” I stared at her in disbelief, utterly shocked that these words were coming from the woman I’d shared a bed with for nearly a decade. I didn’t know her. Maybe I never had. Trent watched us wrestle, then sneered. “Come on, Rory, this is embarrassing. We’re going to be late.” “Didn’t you promise to get me that new watch before the client meeting?” Adora agreed instantly. “Yes, Trent, absolutely. And I’ll trade in your car for the new model, too. We need to project the right image for these meetings.” Trent shot me a triumphant look. “Hear that? Rory’s money is my money. Eight million for a divorce? Keep dreaming.” “But, hey, you looked after Rory for me all these years. That counts for something. If you call me ‘bro’ right now, I’ll talk to her about getting you a new pair of shoes to replace those discount store sneakers.” The words hit me harder than a slap. I thought of the endless budgeting, the five-year-old coat I refused to replace, the video game skins I couldn’t justify buying, the shame of being called a poor loser while driving delivery late at night for a few dollars an hour. Humiliation washed over me. As Trent leaned closer, his face twisted in a smug, mocking expression, I used every ounce of strength I had left and punched him square across his privileged jaw. Trent stumbled back a few steps. Time seemed to stop. After a few seconds, he registered the pain, his face contorting in pure rage. “You piece of trash! You pathetic cuckold! Rory! He hit me!” Adora’s reaction was immediate. She threw herself in front of Trent, cradling his face in her hands. “Mark, are you insane?!” She then grabbed her heavy designer bag and swung it at me, the metal hardware catching me on the cheek. I didn’t have time to dodge. My face stung, a fiery, blinding pain. Gritting my teeth, I yelled at Adora: “Don’t push me to hit you!” She screamed back: “Push you? Try it! If you had any balls at all, you wouldn’t have to threaten me!” “You’re the one with no ambition! Seven years and you’re still just a code monkey! If you were successful, would you have to drive delivery after work for seven years?!” “You’re a failure! Take your frustration out on the right person: yourself! You have no one to blame but the loser you are!” “I’ve been so embarrassed to even mention your name to people!” Blood was seeping from the scratch on my face, warm and sticky, but quickly turning cold. I felt frozen. I thought of the long nights coding, the toxic boss who dumped all the impossible work on me, the constant overtime—all because he knew I was desperate to pay off my ‘debts’ and couldn’t risk quitting. I never told Adora any of this, fearing she would worry. Now, that same raw pain had become the knife she was plunging into my back. I looked at them, my voice a cold rasp. “Adora, as of today, we are even.” She paused. “What?” “You think eight million is too much? Fine. The money you owe me, the blood you just drew—I will get it all back, dollar by dollar, in a court of law.” That includes our joint assets, the company she started with my money, all the profits, the house, the cars, and the watches she bought Trent. Everything. I would have my half. Trent snapped his head up. “Dream on!” I didn’t answer. I simply turned and walked toward the exit. Every step sent a sharp throbbing pain through my cheek. Every step was marked by blood. But my back was straight. A man can be knocked down, but he can’t be broken. As for whether I was dreaming, I didn’t need to answer him. My lawyer would. 3 It was dark when I left the lawyer’s office. I walked home, my face throbbing, and opened the door to see an open suitcase in the middle of the living room. Adora was packing a dress. Trent was sitting on the sofa. “You’re back?” Adora looked up, her tone as calm as if nothing had happened. “Good. I need to talk to you.” “Trent’s health isn’t good, and that punch you threw earlier caused his heart condition to flare up.” “The doctor said he needs constant care. I’m going to stay with him for a few days.” I picked up a foil packet of condoms lying on the corner of the suitcase. “Is this also a prescription from his doctor? Did ‘Dr. Feelgood’ write this?” She snatched the box from my hand with an irritable jerk. “It must have been caught in the folds of the dress. I didn’t even notice. You’re so paranoid.” “I know you’re upset, and I’m letting it go. Trent needs me right now. I’ll explain when I get back.” Need. When she needed me, I was always there. When I needed her, she was with him. Was that fair? No. But marriage was never about fairness; it was about willingness. I had been willing for seven years. Now my heart was dead, and my willingness had run out. “Fine,” I said, and walked into the bedroom. I opened the closet and started pulling out her things. My hand froze when it touched a photograph. It was our wedding picture. She was radiant, and my eyes were full of light. “Mark, what are you doing?” She followed me in, her voice finally tinged with panic. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” I didn’t turn around, tossing the framed photo into the trash bin. “I’m helping you pack. Saves you a trip.” “I told you, it’s only for a few days—” “Then don’t ever come back. Take your things, and the man who needs you, and get out.” Adora retrieved the picture from the bin, gently placing it back on the dresser. “Stop being dramatic. I’ll be back the second he’s recovered.” Trent appeared in the doorway. Adora barely glanced at him, saying with practiced ease, “It’s fine. I’ll have the accountant wire you ten million tomorrow.” Before her phone screen went dark, my eye caught the heading of a document on it. Trent’s tenth ‘business proposal.’ Ten million dollars. How many late-night delivery runs, how many lines of code would that take me? I might die of exhaustion before I earned that much. I thought of the news reports of programmers who suffered fatal stress at 32. If I hadn’t discovered this betrayal, if I had continued to work myself sick to pay her ‘debts,’ that might have been my ending. Trent, hearing the reply, looked at me, a sly smile on his face. “What are you peering at my proposal for, Mark? Thinking of starting your own company?” He’d caught the look in my eyes. Adora spared me a dismissive glance. “Don’t be silly. He’s not cut out for this. He can barely tell a bull market from a bear market. He’d probably buy the dip right after the crash. He’ll be an employee his whole life.” I cut her off with cold finality. “Are you finished?” She froze. I pointed to the door. “Then get out. Get out of my apartment!” “Mark, this is our—” “No. It’s mine. I pay the rent, the utilities, I bought the furniture. What exactly have you contributed besides living here for seven years?” She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Because it was the truth. For seven years, I not only wired her a monthly allowance for her ‘debts,’ but I covered every single household expense. I scrimped to buy her expensive bags and makeup, terrified her friends would look down on her. The reality? She was rich. Filthy rich. She was playing me for a fool while lavishly funding another man—and claiming they were just ‘friends.’ Adora’s voice dropped to a cold threat. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t you dare regret this!” “Go!” The door slammed shut, and the room was abruptly silent. Too quiet. I could hear the refrigerator humming, and the frantic drumming of my own heart. I sank slowly to the floor, tears falling onto the wood—one drop, then two. A man in his thirties, weeping like a lost child. After an eternity, my phone vibrated. I picked it up. A photo from an unknown number. On a luxurious hotel bed, Adora’s sleeping face was nestled against Trent’s chest. A line of text followed: “Thanks for making this possible.” I stared at the image for a long, long time. Then I typed my reply: “Thank you, too. You just helped me take out the trash.” Sent. My private investigator had told me Adora was meticulous; he had never been able to get proof of physical infidelity. Now I had it. 4 The next day, I stood outside the Human Resources glass doors, staring at the ridiculous document in my hand. Embezzlement? $3.2 million? Absurd. I was a Senior Backend Engineer. The largest expenditure I’d ever approved was a team equipment upgrade. How could I possibly move $3.2 million? I addressed the HR director coldly: “I need to see the system logs and the full audit report.” The director adjusted his glasses, a hint of pity in his eyes. “The company has been acquired, Mr. Harrington. You’ll have to ask the new owner.” “And who is the new owner?!” “A Mr. Abbott.” … I flung open the door to the CEO’s office. Sure enough, Trent was sitting behind the desk. Beside him, Adora was reviewing documents, head down. “Well, well. Look who it is. Our star engineer.” Trent’s smile was sickeningly bright. “Mr. Harrington… or should I say, former Mr. Harrington?” Blood surged to my head. But I forced myself to stand still and breathe deeply. “Adora, the audit report is forged. Procurement requires three levels of approval. I only have recommendation rights, not final sign-off. The system logs will prove it.” Adora finally looked up. “The system logs were compromised by a hacker, Mark. The records are gone. Funny thing, the only records lost were the ones connected to those specific purchases.” The coincidence made me laugh without humor. “I built this company’s security architecture. I wrote the firewall rules. You’re telling me it was compromised just like that?” Trent leaned back in the CEO chair, grinning. “That’s why we suspect you, Mark. Insider jobs are the easiest, aren’t they? Changing a few log files, fabricating a few records—a piece of cake for a big-shot engineer like you, right?” I clenched my fists. “You illegally tampered with the database!” Trent stood up. “Evidence speaks, Mark. Right now, every log points to you. You’re looking at a massive civil suit for damages, and maybe even jail time.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Unless… you want to get on your knees and beg me? Maybe then I’d ask Rory to take it easy on you.” My stomach churned with pure disgust. “Adora, do you have nothing to say?!” She looked at me, her voice chillingly devoid of emotion. “You had sticky fingers, Mark. This is actually a chance for us to help you.” I roared in fury. “Help me?! Haven’t you played me for a fool for seven years? Now you’re using this low-life trick to destroy me completely? You hate me that much? You won’t be satisfied until you’ve ruined my life?” Her face paled. Trent lunged, grabbing my arm. “Who the hell do you think you’re yelling at?!” “Let go! This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To see me beg? To watch me crawl over and kiss your shoes like a dog? I’m telling you, you’ll never see that day!” I spun toward Adora. “I won’t pay a dollar. I won’t accept a single charge. If you’ve got the guts, call the police! We’ll settle this in court!” Adora’s lips trembled. She opened her mouth, but Trent cut her off. “Rory, why don’t you step out for a coffee and cool down?” She hesitated for a moment, then turned and left. The instant the door closed, the mask dropped from Trent’s face. “Mark, let’s be honest. You’re not just upset about the money, are you? You’re pissed that Rory chose me. You’re pissed you won’t get a huge divorce payout. You’re pissed about the photo.” My body went rigid. “Ah, I hit a nerve.” “The photo was nice, wasn’t it? Rory’s skin is so soft, so smooth… like silk…” The blood roared in my ears. “What do you want?” My voice was a choked sound. “I want you to know you lost, Mark. You lost everything. Rory’s body is mine, her heart is mine, and now everything she owns is mine. Including this company. Including every dollar she’ll ever earn.” “And you? You’re just the garbage we’re cleaning out.” I threw a punch. It grazed his cheek. Trent touched his face, a flicker of pure malice in his eyes, but he quickly smiled again. “Angry? Mark, I’ll give you one last chance. Walk away with nothing, disappear forever, and I’ll drop the charges. I’ll let you live.” “Three point two million dollars, Mark. How many delivery runs is that going to take?” In that moment, the last shred of my sanity snapped. Just as I lunged, tackling Trent to the floor and raising my fist, the door opened. Adora stood in the doorway. Trent wiped the corner of his mouth—where there was no blood—and cried out, “Rory! He attacked me again! I was only trying to reason with him, and he just went crazy!” I tried to explain. “I didn’t—” “Enough!” Adora cut me off. She spoke a few swift words into her comms device. Two security guards appeared and instantly grabbed my arms. One of them delivered a sharp kick to the back of my knee, forcing me down to the floor. My face was pressed hard against the carpet. Then, I heard Adora’s cold, cruel voice. “Trent, whatever he did to you, you return in kind.” Trent came closer, and then his leather shoe stomped down on my face. He ground the sole against my cheek, then delivered a sharp, vicious kick straight to my nose. My nose burned, and blood immediately gushed out. I stopped feeling the pain. All I felt was a crushing, pathetic sense of irony. Seven years of pouring my heart and soul into this marriage, and this was my reward. Adora’s voice was icy. “Mark, you just can’t learn your lesson. I’m calling the police right now. Let’s see how tough you are when you’re facing a grand larceny charge.” The words were barely out of her mouth when her phone rang. She answered it, confused. As she listened, her expression grew tighter, harder. When she hung up, she stared at me in disbelief. “You… you actually filed for divorce…?”

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“Your mother left you an item.” The lawyer’s voice was calm, reciting a standard legal script. My brother received one point five million dollars. My sister received one point five million dollars. Then, my turn. The lawyer paused for three seconds, looking directly at me. “A photograph.” I froze. “What kind of photo?” She slid an envelope across the mahogany table. I opened it. Inside was a twenty-year-old snapshot. In the picture, I was seventeen, standing in the overgrown yard of our old house, wearing a stupid, lopsided grin. On the back, a line in my mother’s messy handwriting— “Hang in there, kiddo. Go get that degree.” Cameron and Madeline exchanged a glance. No one spoke. 1. I stared at the photo for a long time. Seventeen-year-old me, a buzz cut, a worn high school jacket, standing beneath the sprawling branches of the old oak tree in our yard. It was a month before my college entrance exams. Mom had made a rare trip home and insisted on taking my picture. “The minute you get into State U., I’m going to blow this up and hang it right over the mantel.” She’d been smiling that day, even changed into a clean, white blouse just for the occasion. It was the only photo she ever took of me. And the last time she ever told me, “Hang in there.” “Rory?” Maddie’s voice broke the silence of the memory. “Are you okay?” I looked up at her. Her expression was complicated, a mix of pity and awkwardness. She wanted to comfort me, but didn’t know how. “I’m fine.” I slipped the photo back into the envelope and stood up. “Is the probate done? I’m leaving.” “Wait.” Cam called out. “Rory, aren’t you going to say something?” I turned and faced him. My older brother, Cameron Whittaker, was wearing a black leather jacket and shoes that looked like they cost more than my monthly rent. He’d been back from the UK for two years, living in a penthouse condo in the city; I heard his in-laws paid the down payment. “Say what?” “I mean…” He hesitated. “Don’t you think Mom’s distribution is a little…” “No.” I grabbed my cheap backpack. “It was Mom’s estate. Her call. The will is final. What’s there to talk about?” “But—” “Cam.” I cut him off. “You got your million five. I got my photo. We’re even. Let’s move on.” Cam’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Maddie stood beside him, looking down, trying to be invisible. I didn’t look at either of them again. I pushed the door open and walked out. A cold, biting rain was falling outside. I stood in the doorway of the office building and lit a cigarette. I had quit three years ago. Today, I was smoking again. One point five million dollars. One point five million dollars. One photo. I laughed, a sharp, dry sound that tasted like regret. I didn’t know what I was laughing at. Twenty years. From seventeen to thirty-seven, I had given everything to that family. In the end, all my mother had left me was a photo from twenty years ago. My phone rang. It was Dad. “Rory, is the reading over?” “It is.” “Where are your brother and sister?” “I don’t know. I left.” “Why didn’t you wait for them?” “Dad.” I took a deep drag on the cigarette. “I’m tired. I want to go home and rest.” “Home? Which home are you going to?” I paused, the air suddenly thick and cold. He was right. Which home? The old house, the one she’d promised to hang my picture in? Mom had clearly willed it to Maddie. My own place was a cramped, north-facing fifty-square-foot rental, two hundred miles away, costing me $1,800 a month. I didn’t own anything. I was thirty-seven, five years divorced, no kids, and my total savings amounted to less than twenty thousand dollars. The start of all this was that photo. The start was that summer when I was seventeen. I had scored in the top three percent in the state. My plan was the State Flagship University, English Literature major. My mother glanced at the acceptance letter and said one sentence— “Your brother’s college is already bleeding us dry, and your sister needs tutoring to get her scores up. We don’t have that kind of money for you.” That night, I cried myself sick under my blanket. The next morning, I ripped up the acceptance letter and signed up for a job at the local textile mill. I was seventeen. Cam was nineteen, already away at his expensive university. Maddie was sixteen. From that day on, my paycheck went straight to my father. I kept three hundred a month for bare necessities. The rest I sent home. To pay for Maddie’s tutoring. To pay for Cam’s university. To help with Maddie’s house down payment. To help with Cam’s wedding. It went on for fifteen years. “Rory? Are you still there?” Dad’s voice crackled on the phone. “I’m here.” “Your brother said he wants to take everyone out for dinner, a sort of way to honor your mother’s…” “I won’t be there.” “Rory!” “Dad, I’m tired.” I hung up. Standing in the rain, I smoked another cigarette. The photo was still in my bag. I touched the envelope, but didn’t pull it out. Twenty years. I finally knew what I was worth to my mother. Not one point five million. Not fifty thousand. Not even five thousand. One photo. One she hadn’t looked at in twenty years. 2. I took a cab back to my rental. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, bud? You look rough.” “I’m fine. Just got soaked in the rain.” “Watch out for a cold. Nasty weather.” I nodded, leaning back and closing my eyes. My mind was a whirlpool of the past. I remembered the day the test scores came out. I had a 3.9 GPA and the kind of scores that got you a full-ride scholarship—the kind of kid the town pinned its hopes on. My homeroom teacher called, ecstatic: “Rory Kincaid! You are the best student to come out of this district in a decade! State U. is a lock!” My parents were thrilled for a few days. Relatives streamed in, congratulating them. My uncle said, “Bob, your boy is going to make something of himself! He’s getting out!” My aunt added, “A flagship school! That’s a first for this side of the county!” Dad was beaming, shoving chips and beer at everyone. Mom just sat on the porch, smoking, quiet, but I could tell she was proud. They were the happiest days I could remember. Then the acceptance letter arrived. I remember the day exactly: August 15th. The mail carrier drove his beat-up sedan into the driveway, shouting, “Rory Kincaid! Your letter is here!” I ran out and took the thick, beige envelope. My hands were shaking. I tore it open. Inside, a heavy, embossed red card. “State Flagship University, Department of English Literature.” I stared at the words, tears blurring my vision. I had done it. I had actually done it. Then Mom took the letter and looked at it. Her expression shifted. “How much is the tuition a year?” “Four thousand eight hundred dollars.” “Room and board?” “Eight hundred.” “How much for living expenses?” “…Maybe three to four hundred a month.” Mom didn’t say anything. She placed the letter on the kitchen table and the temperature in the room plummeted. That night, Mom and Dad talked for a long time behind their closed door. I put my ear to the crack to listen. Dad was pleading, “Let Rory go. The kid’s smart. He’ll make something of himself.” Mom’s voice was hard. “Where is the money, Robert? We don’t have it. Look at the Millers’ boy—he graduated and never came back. That money will be wasted.” Dad said, “But…” “Maddie needs to get ready for next year,” Mom interrupted. “Rory goes to school, that’s ten thousand a year. What about Maddie? She can’t fail, or she’ll be stuck here forever, just like us.” Dad fell silent. Then, the final surrender: “How are we going to tell Rory?” “I will.” The next morning, Mom called me out to the yard. She stood beneath the oak tree, looking out at the fading town behind our fence. “Rory.” “Mom.” “Your sister’s college prep next year, your brother’s tuition… the money’s short. You need to…” She didn’t finish the sentence. I understood everything. “You want me to stay home, don’t you?” She didn’t answer. She just dropped her cigarette butt, grinding it out with her heel. “You’re a man, Rory. School isn’t the only path. Get a steady job. That’s more important.” I stood there, paralyzed, unable to speak. Tears dropped onto the dusty ground. Mom looked at me, frowning. “Stop crying. I’m doing this for your own good.” For my own good. That night, I placed the acceptance letter deep in the bottom of my desk drawer. I didn’t tear it. I didn’t burn it. I just hid it there. Twenty years. I never opened that drawer again. The taxi stopped. The driver said, “We’re here, pal.” I snapped back to reality, paid him, and got out. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still an oppressive gray. I looked up at the window of my rented box. Fifth floor, north-facing, perpetually dim. I had lived here for five years. Five years ago, I moved from our small town to this city. Why? Because Mom had a stroke. The doctor said she would need long-term, intensive care. Cam was overseas. Maddie had just bought her first home. Dad was too old and frail to handle it alone. So, I came. I was thirty-two. I had worked at the local mill for fifteen years, finally making it up to Shift Supervisor. I quit the job. I sold the beat-up eight-year-old sedan. I rented this tiny apartment and became my mother’s full-time caregiver. Five years. 3. I unlocked the door. The apartment still held the distinct, inescapable smell. Disinfectant, old age, and a slight, persistent mildew. Five years. The scent was embedded in the drywall; it would never truly air out. I sank onto the couch and pulled the photo out of my bag. Seventeen-year-old me, smiling so brightly. I didn’t know that in three days, my life would be fundamentally redirected. I still thought that getting into college was the starting line of adulthood. I flipped the photo over and looked at the handwriting. “Hang in there, kiddo. Go get that degree.” My mother’s hand was clumsy, the script of a woman who hadn’t finished middle school. But I remembered those words for two decades. Wasn’t it ridiculous? The woman who barred me from college told me to “Go get that degree.” Then, I remembered the context. It was a month before the exam. Mom had come home for a few days—she worked long hours out of town, only making it back a few times a year. She brought a disposable camera—a cheap point-and-shoot someone had given her. “Rory, come here. Mom’s going to take your picture.” I stood beneath the oak tree, and she held the camera up. “Smile, son.” I smiled. She pressed the shutter. Then she said, “The day you get your acceptance, I’m blowing this up and hanging it over the mantel.” I nodded, feeling a warmth I hadn’t felt in months. But what happened next? I did get into college. No, I got in, but I didn’t go. The photo was never blown up. It never hung over the mantel. I assumed it was lost or thrown away. Now, twenty years later, it surfaced in her final will. It was my sole inheritance. My phone chimed. A text from Maddie. “Bro, about the way Mom divided things, I agree it wasn’t fair. I want to split my portion with you. You take half of my $1.5M.” I stared at the screen, motionless. Half. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Enough for a small condo in this city. Enough to secure my future. I typed a short reply. “No, thank you.” Send. Seconds later, Maddie’s name flashed on the screen. “Rory! Don’t be stubborn! I’m serious!” “I’m not stubborn.” “Then why won’t you take it?” “Because it’s not your money to give.” Maddie was silent. “What do you mean?” “That $1.5 million is what Mom left you. Since she was so clear on the division, she must have had her reasons. You keep it.” “But—” “Maddie.” I cut her off. “Do you remember who paid for your college tuition?” Silence from the other end. “I did,” I said. “Three years of high school tutoring, four years of college, three years of grad school. Your tuition, your living expenses, even the prep classes you took—it all came from me.” “Rory, I know! I’ve always remembered—” “Good. But I don’t need you to pay it back. That money was my gift to you back then. Consider it your older brother covering you.” “Rory…” “Do you remember how much your down payment and wedding fund came to?” Maddie didn’t answer. “Two hundred thousand dollars,” I supplied. “I contributed fifty thousand. The other hundred and fifty came from Mom and Dad, and sixty thousand of that was my money I’d been sending home for years.” “Rory, I…” “And what did Mom and Dad give me when I got married?” She stayed silent. “Two hundred dollars,” I answered for her. “An envelope full of bills, handed to me in front of all the guests.” “Rory, the family was tight on cash then—” “Tight on cash?” My voice finally rose. “The year you bought your house, Mom and Dad handed over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The year I got married, the family could only spare two hundred?” “I didn’t mean it like that…” “Maddie.” I took a deep breath, letting the smoke out slowly. “I’m not telling you this to demand payment. I’m telling you that I have paid my debt to this family, a thousand times over.” “Rory…” “Keep your $1.5 million. You and Cam can handle Dad and all the rest of it. I’m done.” “What are you saying?” “I’m tired.” I hung up the phone. I leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Tired. God, I was exhausted. 4. I picked up the photograph again. Seventeen-year-old me, standing beneath the oak, smiling so brightly. Back then, I believed that hard work was all it took to change my destiny. Back then, I believed my parents wouldn’t let me go to college because they truly had no money. But what happened later? The year Maddie started college, my parents not only paid her tuition but bought her a brand-new laptop. That was 2008. A new laptop cost four or five thousand dollars. I had been working at the mill for five years, making barely eighteen hundred a month. The year Maddie graduated with her Master’s, Mom and Dad paid the down payment on her condo in the city. Two hundred thousand dollars. It was the money I had been sending home, combined with what they had saved. I told myself then that things had finally gotten better, that they were finally in a position to help her. I never thought about how much of that “help” was my sweat and blood. Now, I understood. From the start, Mom never intended for me to go to college. It wasn’t about money. It was about me being the middle child. “Can’t you just help the family out?” Her expression when she said that was perfectly calm. As if she were stating a simple, self-evident truth. The middle child should step aside for the eldest. The middle child should pay for the youngest. The eldest was the family’s face in the world. The youngest was the darling, who needed to be protected. The middle child? I was the anchor, the utility player, the one who kept the engine running. That was her logic. And, I realized, the logic of many people. I looked down at the photo. “Hang in there, kiddo. Go get that degree.” A bitter laugh escaped me. That was the extent of my mother’s hope for me. A four-word instruction. Hang in there. And then what? Then she told me to stay home. I placed the photo on the coffee table, stood up, and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. Outside, the sky had darkened. The rain was beginning again. I thought of five years ago. Maddie called me, hysterical, saying Mom had collapsed and was hospitalized with a stroke. “Rory, the doctor says it’s serious. Can you come home?” I took the first overnight train. When I arrived at the hospital, Mom was lying in bed, half of her body paralyzed. Dad sat beside her, his face a mask of worry. Cam? In the UK. He called and said he “absolutely couldn’t get the time off,” and told Dad to “take care.” Maddie? She was in the hall, talking on the phone, anxious. I overheard fragments— “The mortgage is due next month. With Mom like this, I just don’t have the cash…” That night, the doctor called us into his office. “Her condition is not good. She needs long-term rehabilitation and constant care. Your family needs to discuss who will be the full-time caregiver.” I looked at Dad, in his sixties and not well himself. I looked at Maddie, newly married, with a baby on the way. Cam in the UK was a non-starter. “I will do it.” I said the words without hesitation. Because I knew there was no one else. Since childhood, whenever a crisis hit this family, I was the one who was expected to absorb the impact. “Rory, what about your job back home?” Maddie asked. “I’ll quit.” “But—” “No buts.” I said. “You focus on your new life. Dad’s too old, Cam won’t come back. I’ll take care of Mom.” Maddie opened her mouth but said nothing. Dad took my hand, tears in his eyes. “Rory, I’m so sorry to ask this of you…” “Dad, I’m your son. Taking care of Mom is what I should do.” When I said it, I believed it. Now, I realized the absurdity. Taking care of Mom was “what I should do,” but what part of Mom’s estate was mine? Five years. Eighteen hundred-plus days. I turned her, bathed her, fed her, and managed her physical therapy. I drove her to appointments, picked up her medication, and managed the hospital stays. I got up every two hours at night to make sure she hadn’t kicked the blanket off or messed with her catheter bag. I never slept a full night. I never took a trip. I never made a new friend. I quit my job at thirty-two. At thirty-seven, I was practically unemployable. Who hires a thirty-seven-year-old with no college degree and a five-year gap on their resume? And the origin of all this was that photo. That summer I was seventeen. That moment my mother asked, “Can’t you just help the family out?” Now what? My mother was dead. The estate totaled $3 million. Cam got $1.5 million. Maddie got $1.5 million. Me? A twenty-year-old photo. I stood at the window, cup in hand, looking at the rain. I finally understood. That photo was the last testament to my mother seeing me. Twenty years ago, she remembered to take my picture and tell me to “Hang in there.” Twenty years later, she only saw my siblings. Her inheritance wasn’t a gift. It was a reminder. A reminder that I was never the priority.

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I ended up with the guy who used to bully me in high school. As the morning light filtered into the room, I only slightly moved my arm. The arm clamped around my waist instantly tightened its hold. Caleb Thorne lowered his head and kissed my neck, his deep voice carrying the huskiness of just waking up. “Did you sleep well last night?” I froze for a moment, then obediently nodded. In the past, maybe I would have resisted a little, but he spent three weeks teaching me a lesson. Obedience is best. He took my hand resting by my side, intertwining his fingers with mine with interest. Burying his face in my neck, he chuckled with amusement. “Didn’t throw away the ring I gave you this time?” … He was referring to the diamond ring on my ring finger. There were two before this. One I hid in the freezer, and one I threw into the fountain in the garden downstairs. I don’t want to recall the consequences those two rings brought for now, but the result the third ring brought is probably: I am marrying him, the person I used to fear the most. 1 I like spending time in the bathroom showering. Because I don’t have to face him, and I won’t think of certain terrible memories. But staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, the misty fog couldn’t hide some glaring marks on my body. My eyes were red, staring at myself in the mirror. Until Caleb’s slow knocking sounded at the door. “Still showering?” “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.” “…” It’s not like he hasn’t done the thing of entering the bathroom without greeting. I immediately turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. … Breakfast was neatly arranged on the table as usual, but Caleb probably didn’t have time to enjoy it. The morning news was playing on TV. With his slender fingers, he neatly tied his tie. Seeing me staring at him, he leaned down and scraped my nose. “Like watching? You tie it for me next time?” I turned my face away. But he just chuckled carelessly. And he deliberately picked up the milk I had drunk, drinking from where my lips had touched. … “Be good, wait for me to come back.” “I’ll take you to see wedding dresses tonight.” 2 Caleb left. I stared blankly at the TV for a long time. Then I raised the glass he just drank from and smashed it heavily against the TV. The TV only shook, but the glass shattered on the floor. The loud noise caused the servants downstairs to exclaim. But I hugged my knees, sitting there crying. … Caleb was my nightmare in the past. In high school, he was the most vicious bully in that group. He threw all the books in my bag downstairs from a high place. He also organized classmates to isolate me. With his instigation, those girls dragged me into the restroom and slapped me. As long as he led the bullying, no one dared to help me. Because Caleb was the son of the CEO of a huge corporation. Several buildings in our school were donated by his family. He led the wanton ridicule of me. At that time, bullying me became a trend in the class. I heard his face was the dream of all the girls in school. But to me, he was the demon who tormented me sleepless night after night. Such a person. Seven years after graduation. Said he wanted to marry me. 3 I couldn’t change the habit of trembling whenever I saw Caleb. Even though I had been sleeping in the same bed with him for three weeks. No one helped me. My mom, knowing someone of Caleb’s status wanted to marry me, couldn’t be happier. Caleb seemed to have changed cars again. The back seat of this car was very spacious. But I didn’t like cars with spacious back seats. The partition in the middle had risen. No one knew what he would do with me in the back. But today’s Caleb was quieter than usual. Probably because I kept trembling. The temperature in the car rose quite high, but I was still trembling. Ignoring my reaction, he pulled me into his arms. “Evie, are you that scared?” The man’s whisper teased my ear. He knew exactly why I was like this. “I’ll take you to choose a wedding dress, okay?” I controlled my trembling bit by bit, but still laughed sarcastically. Who would have thought, the person who pushed me into the abyss step by step. Is now speaking softly about taking me to choose a wedding dress? 4 Caleb took me to this shop, located in a private villa. The crystal chandelier reflected dazzling light, illuminating the wedding dresses displayed on the mannequins. I wasn’t in the mood to look, nor to choose. I let Caleb discuss with the designer which style to customize for me. I let the assistant measure my body with a tape measure. The backyard of this shop was a small garden. I was more interested in that place. While they were chatting, I lifted my skirt and went to the small pond in the backyard. There was a door in the backyard. It seemed that passing through it would lead to a road of infinite freedom. Actually, I thought about running away countless times. But when I gathered the courage to run, I沮丧ly realized I had nowhere to go. My mom desperately hoped I would marry Caleb. She held my hand and told me not to be willful. I sat by the small pond until Caleb finished talking and came to find me. “What are you thinking about?” Caleb was often like this, high and mighty. But I showed him my arm. On my wrist, there was a small red mark. This circular scar had a layer of hypertrophic scar tissue around the edge. “Look, you burned this with a cigarette butt.” I pointed to this place. One day he was in a bad mood, pulled me into a corner, and pressed a cigarette butt there. It hurt so much, so much that I forgot what else he did afterwards. The person looking down at me concentrated for a moment, then squatted in front of me. Even though I desperately didn’t want to admit it, Caleb’s face was indeed perfect. So perfect that it looked like it was carved by the most famous sculptor in ancient Greece. If he looked at someone with a pair of gentle eyes, anyone would probably drown in them. Otherwise, why does the Western Bible say that the devil always has the most bewitching face? The light and shadow of the lighter flickered. He lit a cigarette in front of me. I subconsciously trembled, afraid the cigarette butt would fall on my arm again. But the next second, he lightly pressed the cigarette butt out on his own wrist. In the same position as mine. He looked at me quietly, “Feel better, Evie?” “…” I lowered my eyes. The ash flickered, and the fresh wound was particularly glaring. He suddenly reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Evie, if you can share a little of this pain with me, it will be fine.” Fireflies of summer slowly rose from the pond. I stared at the flowing moonlight. “Caleb, you know clearly that those pains were brought by you.” The man’s body stiffened for a moment, then he stroked my hair bit by bit. “Then I’ll atone for my sins, okay?” “…” 5 After Caleb left this morning, I threw that glass of milk at the TV as usual. At times like this, the servants would usually warm another glass of milk and hand it to me. But today, I didn’t want to drink it. Actually, I used to like drinking milk the most. When I was in school, my mom always made me bring a bottle of milk to school in the morning. But one day, during recess, Caleb sat on the desk in front of me. He was already quite tall then, leaning over, his shadow almost enveloping me. I heard someone sneering, then someone said, find some fun, Master Thorne. But he smiled at me, spreading his palm in front of me. I handed over the milk bottle in my hand. After unscrewing the cap, before the milky scent could drill into my nose. The creamy white liquid poured down from the top of my head. Nose tip, collarbone, collar, skirt hem. It seemed every place was stained with that smell, but except for me crying, everyone was laughing. “Hey, look at her like that, who is she seducing?” “I’m really impressed, Master Thorne, your bad taste…” My cheek was suddenly rubbed by a thumb. Caleb sat in front of me, supporting his chin. He pinched my chin and looked at me for a while. Sneered. “So ugly.” “…” So, now I always hate milk. But the one who hates this the most is probably Caleb. After I knocked over the second glass of milk today, the servant who brought me milk almost knelt in front of me. “Miss… just drink it…” I turned my neck, saying I wouldn’t. Then my gaze fell on the landline next to the sofa. I crawled over and pressed the buttons. This landline could only call one person’s mobile phone. Only, the male voice answering the phone this time was not Caleb’s voice. “Miss Qin?” Oh, it’s Caleb’s special assistant, the one who always drives. “I’m looking for Caleb.” “He’s in a meeting, Miss Qin…” “Then I’m coming over.” I hung up without waiting for the other side to say anything. Entry and exit to this villa area were strict. There were security guards at the gate. I raised my head and told the security guard that I was going to Caleb’s company. This is probably… the benefit of being about to marry Caleb. No one stopped me, and I walked unimpeded all the way to the top floor. Only when I was about to break into the meeting room, his special assistant stopped me. “Miss Qin, you can wait in the lounge next door first…” I pushed open the heavy door of the meeting room with one breath.

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My grandmother has this obsession with making me go to bed early and waking me up hours before I need to. I start work at 8 AM, but she wakes me up at 5 AM. Every time, I have to lie to her: “It’s already 9 AM! I’m going to be late!” just to get her to stop. Over time, the severe sleep deprivation gave me chronic anxiety and neurasthenia. I was even called out by HR multiple times for zoning out. One more mistake, and I’d be fired. I begged my grandma: “I set my own alarm. I don’t need you to wake me up!” She wiped her tears, acting like the victim. My dad saw this and slapped me across the face. “Just go to sleep earlier! Why do you have to make your grandmother cry?” I suddenly remembered that my dad was still banking on my salary to pay for his surgery. Fine. Let them push me. It’s not like I’m the one who needs the money. 1 At 8 PM, I finally finished a project and dragged myself home. The workload had been insane lately. I hadn’t had a break in forever. I planned to zone out in front of the TV for a bit. “Susie, you’re back? No work today? Why are you watching TV?” Grandma came out of her room. Afraid the volume would bother her, I muted it immediately. I explained that the project was wrapping up and tomorrow was a big day, so the company let us go home to rest. But I still had to review some files my colleague would send over later. I checked the time. The files wouldn’t arrive for a while. So, I just wanted to relax. Hearing this, Grandma got anxious. She walked over and turned off the TV. The screen went black. Her tone was urgent and undeniable. “It’s almost nine! Why are you watching TV? Go to sleep! You have work tomorrow. If you sleep late, you won’t get up.” “By the way, sweetie, what time do you have to wake up tomorrow?” I sighed helplessly. “Grandma, I still have to review files later.” “And for tomorrow, I set my own alarm. I’ll get up on time. Don’t worry.” I knew her temper too well. If I told her the actual time, she’d be knocking on my door hours beforehand. Better not to tell her. Tomorrow was a heavy workload; I needed rest. Grandma didn’t get the answer she wanted and walked away, looking dissatisfied. I rested for a bit until the files arrived. By 10 PM, I finished the revisions. My boss, Mr. Henderson, called to discuss some details for the morning meeting. Just as I picked up, Grandma walked in with a cup of warm water, urging me to drink it and sleep. I nodded perfunctorily and continued talking to Henderson. Five minutes later, she was back at the door, muttering about how staying up late damages the liver and causes wrinkles. I was afraid she’d come in and yell if I ignored her, which would be humiliating if Henderson heard. So I nodded again, signaling I’d hang up and sleep soon. But my worst fear happened. Grandma suddenly pushed the door open, her voice booming. “It’s so late, why are you still on the phone? Hang up and sleep! Can’t you talk tomorrow?” I covered the mic in panic, but Henderson had already heard. His voice was awkward. “Alright… Susie, you get some rest. No rush, we can discuss the details tomorrow.” I looked at the ended call, furious. I wanted to argue with her. But seeing Grandma with tears in her eyes, looking so “concerned,” I deflated. I had nowhere to vent this anger. I just agreed to go to bed, apologized to Henderson via text, and got ready for sleep. Grandma finally left, satisfied. Maybe I was too exhausted, but it felt like I had barely slept when a violent banging on the door woke me up. Grandma’s frantic shouting accompanied it. “Get up! It’s almost ten! Don’t you have work? You’re going to be late!” The banging was loud and urgent, like she was trying to break the door down. I shot up from bed, mind blank, adrenaline spiking. Henderson said there was an important meeting at 9 AM today. I grabbed my clothes and threw them on. Without even putting on shoes, I rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I finished, I noticed the window looked… different. Too dark. I picked up my phone suspiciously. The time on the screen made me freeze. 3:07 AM. A wave of suppressed grievance and rage crashed over me. I walked to Grandma’s room and raised my voice. “Grandma! It’s 3 AM! Why are you waking me up? I told you I set an alarm. Why won’t you listen?” Grandma came out, eyes instantly red, wiping them with her hand. “I… I asked you what time to get up, and you didn’t say. I was afraid I’d call you too late and you’d miss work, so I called you as early as possible.” Her voice was full of grievance, like a helpless child. “If you had just told me when you were leaving, I wouldn’t have woken you up so early.” I was exhausted. After consecutive days of high-intensity overtime, I didn’t have the energy to fight her. “Didn’t I say I set an alarm?” “How is an alarm reliable? What if the battery dies? What if it doesn’t ring? I’m doing this for your own good. I don’t want your boss to yell at you.” She insisted on her logic, looking at me with total confusion. Seeing her about to cry, I didn’t know how to vent my anger. I took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil, and explained gently. “Grandma, I just need to leave by 8:30 tomorrow. You don’t need to wake me up early. I set multiple alarms. I will get up. I won’t be late.” I watched her turn back to her room. Only when I heard her light click off did I relax. This should be fine now. Rubbing my throbbing temples, I walked heavily to the living room. I took out my meds for anxiety and insomnia. My sleep had always been poor. With the stress, if I didn’t take them, I wouldn’t sleep at all tonight. Back in bed, I checked my alarms again before lying down. My eyelids were heavy, but my nerves were strung tight. The slightest noise would wake me. I didn’t know how much time passed before I drifted off. “Susie! Get up! The sun is burning your butt!” I jerked awake from a dream. Reflexively, I grabbed my phone. 5:00 AM. In that moment, all the exhaustion, grievance, and patience exploded. I stared at the number on the screen, rage rushing to my head. “Grandma, can you stop?!” “I told you I set an alarm! I don’t need to get up until 7! Why are you waking me at 5?!” Grandma was already by my bed, her tone urgent as always. “Is 5 AM early? You have to leave by 8:30. Washing up and eating takes time, right? What if there’s traffic? Better to be early.” “I don’t need breakfast! I’ll buy something on the way!” “I need sleep! I need rest!” I pointed at my head, my voice rising. “Grandma, I have neurasthenia. The doctor said I need sleep! You torture me like this again and again—what if I make a mistake tomorrow? What if I get fired?” The smile on Grandma’s face froze. Seeing my agitation, her eyes reddened again. “I… I’m doing this for your own good… afraid you won’t make it…” “If it’s for my own good, stop disturbing my sleep!” I interrupted her, my voice breaking. “Do you know how important this job is? Dad is counting on my salary for his surgery! If I get fired, what about the medical bills? Have you thought about that?” “I didn’t mean to harm you… I was just afraid you’d be late…” I threw the covers off, grabbed a jacket, and stormed to the door without a word. After pushing Grandma out, I slammed the door and locked it. I leaned against the door, chest heaving. I knew I was impulsive, but I couldn’t take it anymore. Back in bed, I pulled the covers over my head to block out everything. The medication seemed to kick in. Combined with extreme exhaustion, I actually drifted off again. I don’t know how much time passed when a soft knock sounded. Followed by Grandma’s cautious voice. “Susie, get up for breakfast. I made your favorite oatmeal and eggs. It’ll get cold.” I woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat. I checked my phone. 5:30 AM. Only thirty minutes since the last time. A deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. I lay there, not wanting to move. Sleepiness drowned me like a tide, but my mind was wired tight. The torture of a body wanting sleep but a brain unable to relax was driving me insane. “Susie? Did you hear me?” Grandma’s voice was softer, probing. “The oatmeal is really soft, good for your stomach. Eat a little and then sleep.” I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth, forcing myself not to respond. In a trance, memories of being woken up too early by Grandma flooded back. It was the winter of my sophomore year in high school. Mom was diagnosed with a serious illness and hospitalized. Dad had to stay at the hospital 24/7, so he brought Grandma from the countryside to take care of me. When she first arrived, she promised Dad she’d take good care of me. Looking at my kind grandmother, I was happy. But I never expected her to wake me up the next morning before dawn. “Susie! Get up! It’s 6:30! You’ll be late for school!” I asked groggily. “Grandma, it’s pitch black. How is it 6:30?” “You child, you’re sleeping too deeply!” She threw clothes at me. “Put them on! I heated up breakfast. Eat and go, don’t let the teacher catch you late.” I was young and didn’t dare disobey her. I fumbled to get dressed. She brought warm oatmeal. I took two bites and was ushered out the door. The moment I pushed open the building door, I was stunned. Outside was pitch black. Not a soul on the street. How could it be 6:30? I stood at the door, wanting her to let me back in. But the door was deadbolted from the inside. Freezing and trembling, filled with grievance and fear, I had no choice but to walk to school. It wasn’t until after 6 AM that other students started arriving. No one knew I stood at the school gate for over three hours that day. When I got home, I cried and told Grandma. Hoping she would change. She listened, eyes red, holding my hand. “Oh sweetie, Grandma was wrong. I’ll check the time carefully next time.” I believed her. But a few days later, she woke me at 3 AM, claiming I was late again. I argued, but she frowned and said: “Getting up early is never wrong. What if the bus is late? What if there’s traffic? Why are you being disobedient? Do you want your parents to worry about you at a time like this?” Afraid of stressing my sick mother, I didn’t dare argue back. From high school to college, to graduation and work, this pattern of early waking entangled me for years. A year ago, due to chronic sleep deprivation, I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and neurasthenia. 2 “Susie? Are you getting up? The oatmeal is really getting cold.” “Enough! Are you done yet?!” I screamed at the door, my voice tearing. The knocking stopped instantly, followed by Grandma’s sobbing. “I made breakfast out of kindness, afraid you’d be hungry. How can you treat me like this? I’m old, useless… even cooking for my granddaughter is annoying… I’m just a burden.” “I didn’t call you a burden!” Her crying got louder, filled with confusion and grievance. “I got up early to cook, afraid you’d be late. I think of you in everything, but you talk to me like this… If you won’t eat, fine. Others need to eat! Your brother is still sleeping, go wake him up to eat.” I wanted to laugh. My brother, Tyler, has been mooching off the family since graduation. Sleeps until afternoon, games all night. Grandma never wakes him up early. Now she wants me to wake him? I couldn’t deal with her. I put in earplugs, determined not to open the door. Minutes later, my door was pounded heavily. Tyler’s impatient voice followed. Grandma must have said something to him. “Susie, are you shameless? Grandma made breakfast early, and you’re cursing her out?” Cursing her? When did I curse her? I knew Grandma was triangulating again. It was her signature move. Whenever we had a conflict, she went to Tyler and Dad, complaining about how bad I was. Packaging herself as the bullied victim, making me the villain. Tyler’s knocking got louder. “Open the door! Or I’m kicking it in!” “Tyler, don’t kick the door.” Grandma’s voice chimed in, not stopping him, but fueling the fire. “Talk to your sister nicely. Tell her if she doesn’t get up, she’ll be late. If she loses her job, what about your dad’s surgery fee? She can’t be this immature.” “Hear that, Susie?” Tyler shouted louder. “Grandma said it! Open up! Don’t make me do it!” Just then, Dad’s raspy cough came from the hallway. “What is that noise! Can’t a man rest?!” Tyler stopped banging, tone softening instantly. “Dad, Sis won’t open the door! Grandma called her to eat, she was ungrateful and yelled at Grandma. Grandma’s crying!” “Susie! Open this door!” Dad started banging harder. Listening to the three of them perform outside, I felt nothing but agony. I didn’t understand. We were a family. How did it become like this? “Your grandma cooked for you out of kindness, woke you up so you wouldn’t be late. How are you so immature? Daring to talk back to your grandma and get angry at your brother!” I took a deep breath, gritting my teeth. “You still dare to have an attitude!” I yanked the door open. Dad’s eyes were full of rage. Grandma sat on the sofa wiping tears, shoulders shaking. Tyler leaned against the doorframe, gloating. I met their gazes, voice hoarse but clear. “My job is this family’s lifeline! The surgery fees, the rehab costs—what isn’t supported by my salary? If I get fired for mistakes due to sleep deprivation, who is going to step up? You can all go pick through trash then!” Dad’s face turned iron-green. He didn’t expect me to speak like that. He shook with anger. Slap! A crisp sound echoed in the living room. My head snapped to the side, cheek burning. Dad’s hand was still in the air, eyes furious. “I’ll beat you to death, you ungrateful thing!” Grandma immediately stood up, grabbing Dad’s hand, crying. “Son, don’t hit her, don’t hit her. Susie is young, she doesn’t know better. We’ll teach her slowly. I can suffer a little…” Her eyes held no real intention to stop him, but a trace of hidden triumph. As long as Dad and Tyler stood with her against me, she could be the “Good Grandma” again. Speaking for me. “Mom, don’t always victimize yourself. I wish I never had such a shameless daughter.” Tyler fanned the flames. “Dad hit her right! Sis is too immature. Grandma was nice to cook, and she talks back. Anyone would be angry!” “Grandma, don’t blame yourself. We see everything.” I covered my burning cheek, looking at this family, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Fine. I’m immature. Since you all think I’m wrong, I’ll be wrong all the way.” I was young, educated, and had some savings. I wouldn’t starve. If they wanted to create chaos, I’d let them. I walked to the table and sat down. The oatmeal was cold. Clearly not made this morning. Probably leftovers from yesterday. Seeing me sit, Grandma sniffled. “Eat quickly, then go to work. Don’t be late.” I didn’t have the energy to fight over food. I ate quickly, put down the bowl, and got up to leave. Just then, my phone blared its alarm. 7:20 AM. The time I should have woken up. Hearing the alarm, the grievance on Grandma’s face vanished, replaced by a relieved satisfaction. Like she had won the battle. She stood up, smoothing her clothes. “Alright, alarm rang. Go to work. Don’t be late.” She didn’t look at me again, turning slowly to her room and closing the door. Dad yawned and went back to his room to sleep. In minutes, the family that had just surrounded and scolded me all went back to sleep. Only I was left in the living room. I looked at the empty room, feeling the absurdity. They had energy to fight me because they could sleep while I worked. So ironic. 3 Arriving at the office, my colleague Jessica looked surprised. “Susie, what happened? You look terrible.” Her voice attracted concerned looks. I forced a smile, shook my head, but felt bitter inside. Sitting down, turning on my computer, Mr. Henderson appeared at the door, eyes sharp on me. “Susie, come to my office.” My heart sank. I followed him. Inside, Henderson pointed to the chair. Straight to the point. “Your recent state is very poor. If you can’t balance family and work, I personally think we need to reconsider your promotion. The company doesn’t need an unstable Sales Director.” My breath hitched. I knew what he meant. If this contract went through, the promotion was a done deal. But my state yesterday and today, plus Grandma’s interference… Henderson was worried. I clenched my fists. “Mr. Henderson, I know I messed up. I prepared this proposal for a month, checked every detail. Give me one more chance. I can land this.” Henderson looked at me, silent for a few seconds, then agreed. “Go over the details we didn’t finish yesterday.” I pulled out the documents. Just as we reached the critical pricing split, my phone rang. I pulled it out instinctively. Grandma. I couldn’t fathom why she was calling now. I muted it, apologizing to Henderson. He frowned but signaled me to continue. Two sentences later, it vibrated again. Grandma. Irritated, I turned the phone off. But the next second, the burner phone in my pocket rang. Henderson’s face went dark, disappointment evident. “Take the call. Handle your personal business before working.” I bit my lip, answering. Grandma’s frantic voice came through. “Susie! Why did you take so long? Did you eat lunch? Remember to come home early after work, don’t stay out!” “Grandma, I’m negotiating an important contract with my boss. Can you stop calling?” Grandma choked up instantly. Same logic. She cares, I’m ungrateful. I had no patience for her performance. Jessica, my competition for this project, had already walked in to brief Henderson. Henderson nodded frequently, satisfaction visible. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I hung up. Soon, Dad texted. [Grandma cares about you, why hang up on her?] [Susie, don’t think because you’re grown you can disrespect elders.] [By the way, end of the month. You got paid right? Transfer the medical fees.] I looked at the message, lost in thought. Paid? I looked like I was about to be fired. Dad loved chewing tobacco. Got oral cancer. Surgery was expensive. I was the only earner. I didn’t understand why they treated me like this. I didn’t reply. Jessica stood before me. “Susie, do some routine work if you’re not feeling well. Mr. Henderson gave me the project.” Her eyes held ambition and relief. I forced a smile to congratulate her.

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After my family went bankrupt, I set my sights on the wealthy circle of childhood friends. Brandon was the first to take the bait. After stringing him along for three months, I happened to overhear a conversation he had with his friends: “A down-and-out socialite, and you’re still showering her with attention? Don’t tell me you two are actually in love?” Brandon let out a dismissive laugh. “True love? Please. Her family went bankrupt, so I can have some fun with her. If I were really going to marry, I’d have to choose a proper heiress.” My heart shattered. That very night, I cleared out his place. Without a moment’s hesitation, I texted the next wealthy childhood friend on my list: “I broke up with him. Come get me.” 1 The VIP room door hadn’t been fully shut. As Brandon spoke, I could even see him idly twirling his lighter, his narrow, almond-shaped eyes filled with a chilling indifference. “Just a bit of fun, that’s all. My family is already setting up arranged meetings for me.” “Aren’t you worried about Rachel getting angry? She used to be quite the social queen, famously headstrong!” Brandon let out a light laugh. “Used to be, you said it yourself. She’s living off my money now. Even if she knew I was going on dates, what right does she have to cause a scene?” I froze in place. Just a few months ago, my family had gone bankrupt. It was Brandon who stepped forward, patiently comforting me. “Rachel, be with me. I’ll take care of you for life.” And he had kept his word. No clothes? Top luxury brands sent their stylists to my door. No place to live? He bought me an apartment in the city. No money to spend? Fifty thousand a month transferred directly to my card. Now, he was openly discussing the “cost” of keeping me in a VIP room. “How much has Brandon sunk into her these past few months?” “Three to five hundred thousand, I’d say.” “Isn’t that a bit much? No matter how ‘high-class’ she once was, that’s ancient history now. Is she really worth that price?” The group started to egg him on. “The model I’m seeing only cost me five grand for three months! Don’t you dare inflate the market price!” “What if you feed this fallen socialite’s ego too much, and she eventually gets too comfortable being a kept woman and tries to force a marriage?” That last remark made Brandon thoughtful. Before I could hear his reply, a hand clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Rachel? Why are you standing out here instead of coming in?” I turned. Meeting a pair of eyes that held a knowing, mocking glint. 2 It was Dylan. To put our relationship in perspective, his cousin was my childhood friend. As for him, he was, at best, my sworn rival. When my family first went bankrupt, he was the first to call, gloating. “Heard the Yao family went broke? So, the princess is going to be homeless, huh? If you beg me nicely, I might consider taking you in…” My pride was still soaring back then, and I immediately blocked his number. Months passed. He was still as irritating as ever. As he brushed past me, he let out an abrupt chuckle. I didn’t utter a word. Silently, I followed Dylan into the room. “Rachel’s here?” “Quick, quick, come sit next to Brandon.” Countless gazes, eager for drama, fixated on me. I pretended not to notice, finding the empty seat beside Brandon and quietly taking it. “Rachel, I ordered some drinks for you. Have a glass!” Someone next to me pushed a high-proof drink my way. I glanced at Brandon. He wasn’t looking in my direction, nor did he seem to notice my predicament. “I don’t drink.” “We’re all adults here, how could you not drink? Or are you looking down on me, Rachel?” The commotion drew the attention of everyone in the room. Brandon finally looked over. But not to intervene. Instead, he stared at me, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” Three dismissive words. He seemed to have completely forgotten that in similar situations before, he would not only prevent me from drinking but also thoughtfully order a sparkling water, shielding me from all harassment. 3 In the end, I took the glass. “Alright, I’ll drink it.” The high-proof alcohol burned its way down my throat. Before long, my mind felt light and airy. Brandon got up to use the restroom. Remembering the purpose of my visit today, I pushed through the haze and followed him. “Brandon.” “What is it?” “I’m out of money.” Brandon frowned. “Didn’t I just transfer your living expenses last month?” I bit my lip. “It’s all gone.” “You’re not some heiress anymore, what kind of expenses do you have?” Brandon lit a cigarette, and in the flickering light, he gently exhaled a puff of smoke. “Rachel, I hope you’re smart enough to know your place. Don’t be too greedy.” 4 Brandon left. Leaving me alone in front of the mirror, the corners of my eyes, reddened by alcohol, showing nothing but hurt. “Hmph.” A snicker came from around the corner. It was Dylan again. From his angle, he could clearly see me in the mirror. “Looks like Miss Rachel’s judgment isn’t so good after all. You went to all that trouble to hook up with Brandon, and now he doesn’t even want to give you living expenses. That’s quite humiliating.” “Are you enjoying my misfortune?” Dylan admitted it directly. “Of course.” “Then you’ve had your fill. You can leave now.” Dylan stopped talking. But he didn’t leave. Since he wasn’t going, I wiped the corner of my eye and walked away. As we brushed past each other, I suddenly heard Dylan’s voice. “How much do you want?” “A hundred thousand.” A few seconds later. Five hundred thousand landed in my bank account. Dylan’s voice seemed to echo right beside my ear. “Rachel, five hundred thousand in three months, what’s that? If you want it, I can give it to you in a second.” I looked up. Just in time to see him shift his gaze uncomfortably. “Can you unblock me now?” 5 With five hundred thousand in my account, I finally, as Brandon wished, stopped asking him for money. He clearly thought I had succumbed to reality, forced to learn obedience. He didn’t even bother to hide his arranged dates from me anymore. “This week, I’m going back to the family estate to meet Charlotte from the Lin family. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.” As Brandon said this, his assistant happened to mention a gift: “Mr. Brandon, the auction is next Monday. Eight million has already been transferred to your private account. Barring any surprises, we should be able to secure that jewelry set.” The invitation had arrived half a month ago. The jewelry set the assistant mentioned was the most dazzling piece in the collection. The starting bid alone was five million. Assistant: “You can take Miss Charlotte, and then you’ll have the perfect welcome gift for her.” I listened quietly for a while before speaking. “Next week is my birthday.” Brandon paused. He seemed to have just remembered. But quickly made his decision. “Go pick out a bag for yourself tomorrow. Fifty thousand budget.” A fifty thousand bag. An eight million jewelry set. The disparity was so immense, I couldn’t help but ask directly, “Can’t you give me that jewelry set?” “Give it to you?” Brandon laughed aloud. “Rachel, Charlotte from the Lin family is different from you. She has expensive tastes. A mere fifty thousand bag, she wouldn’t even look at it.” “Different people deserve different things. Do you think you’re worth an eight million jewelry set?” Why not? Before my family went bankrupt, my most expensive jewelry sets were in the tens of millions, and my gowns for galas were often royal heirlooms. My standards were several times higher than Charlotte’s. It was just that after the family’s upheaval, outsiders saw me as worthless. I lowered my gaze and said softly: “Brandon, let’s break up.” 6 When I suggested breaking up, Brandon looked as if he’d heard a joke. Even his assistant’s eyes held a hint of disdain. “Rachel, I advise you not to make such impulsive decisions. Break up with me, and can you really handle living in poverty?” “Then, forget an eight million jewelry set, you won’t even be able to afford a fifty thousand bag.” “Go cool off. Come talk to me when you’ve thought things through.” Brandon simply left the apartment. When I called again, only his assistant answered, his tone exceptionally casual. “Miss Rachel, have you thought it through?” “Yes, I have.” I looked at the various luxury items I’d gathered, and said softly, “Please send over that fifty thousand bag.” 7 Over these past three months, the luxury items Brandon had given me fetched a total of eighty thousand. I didn’t even spare the furniture, selling everything to whoever was closest. Piece by piece, I scraped together a hundred thousand. On my birthday, Brandon’s social media updated with a photo of him and Charlotte from the Lin family. In the picture, she was holding his arm, their gestures intimately familiar. All our mutual friends in the comments section were sending congratulations. I quietly closed the app. And dialed the number I had long since unblocked. Beep— After a few rings, a lazy voice answered on the other end. “Miss Rachel finally deigned to call me. Don’t tell me Brandon dumped you?” “Dylan, I broke up with him.” There was a long silence on the other end. So long that I wondered if Dylan had hung up, before he let out a scoff. “Why are you telling me this? Don’t tell me you thought just because I was nice enough to transfer you some money, I’d be willing to pick up his scraps?” I pressed my lips together and said softly, “I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Just pretend I never said anything.” After hanging up, I counted to three. The phone rang sharply. Dylan’s voice on the other end was exasperated. “Send me your address, I’m coming to get you!” 8 My move was quiet, almost unnoticed. Dylan didn’t put me up in an outside apartment like Brandon had. Instead, he brought me directly to his family’s estate. But as soon as we entered, we bumped into someone I hadn’t expected— Landon. Dylan’s cousin. My childhood friend whom I hadn’t seen in over a decade. His sudden appearance made me feel awkward, and it also ignited a certain hostility in Dylan. “Cousin? What brings you back to the estate so suddenly?” “Just checking in.” Landon put down his newspaper, his gaze naturally falling on me. Dylan instinctively grabbed my hand. “Cousin, you probably don’t recognize Rachel anymore. Let me introduce you…” “No need.” Landon averted his gaze, as if I were just an irrelevant stranger. “I know her. Brandon’s mistress.” Those words. Made me nervously drop my head, a wave of unease washing over me. Dylan, however, breathed a sigh of relief, then retorted, “They’ve already broken up.” “So you just bring her back to the estate? I don’t care if Brandon keeps a mistress, but as a member of the Song family, you shouldn’t be involved in such things.” Dylan immediately shot back, “What business is it of yours!” He led me to the room next to his own. “You can stay here from now on. My cousin has been abroad for so many years, his personality has become cold and aloof, and his words are harsh. Just try to avoid him.” To be honest, both brothers had sharp tongues. Dylan was verbally toxic. Landon was brutally honest, tearing down pretenses. I nodded obediently. “Okay.” Even if he hadn’t said anything, I would have kept my distance. After all, among the younger generation of the Song family, the one I truly grew up with, the one who was truly my childhood friend, was Landon. From childhood, I’d always trailed after this brilliant older boy next door, chasing him and declaring I’d be his bride. Until the Song family’s eldest branch lost their struggle for power. Landon, then just fourteen, had even climbed into my backyard before leaving the country. “Little Rachel, will you wait for me to come back?” “Yes, yes!” But I was too young back then, and Dylan soon entered my life, making me quickly forget my dearest childhood friend. To outsiders, Dylan, with whom I constantly bickered, seemed like my closest childhood friend. Back then, no one could have imagined. That Landon would return years later, powerfully taking over as CEO. When I was being kept by Brandon, I’d heard rumors of Landon’s ruthless tactics, but I’d dismissed them as mere gossip. After all, the bond between us had long faded with time. Now, we were practically strangers. In my direst moments, I thought of Brandon, I thought of Dylan, but I never once considered seeking out my old ‘Brother Landon’. 9 But being under the same roof, avoiding him wasn’t entirely up to me. “Let’s not even mention the five million you transferred out a while ago. Now you’re bringing people back to the house?” Simply going downstairs for some milk in the evening, I found myself walking in on Landon and Dylan’s confrontation. “What does it have to do with you?” Dylan crossed his arms. “Cousin, don’t think that just because your position is higher than mine now, you can order me around. My dividends don’t come from your hands.” Unlike Dylan’s defiance, Landon’s expression was calm. “I have no intention of ordering you around.” “But Rachel was Brandon’s girlfriend. If you rashly bring her back, what happens if it causes a huge scandal?” “Girlfriend, my foot! They’ve already broken up! Brandon is getting into an arranged marriage, what does he have to do with her anymore?” Landon chuckled softly. “Dylan, should I, as your cousin, remind you?” “Your aunt and uncle are also preparing to arrange a marriage for you to regain their standing.” “What will you do then with the person you’ve brought back?” Dylan’s expression froze. Before he could answer, the sound of ceramic hitting the floor echoed from the second story. I had accidentally knocked over a vase. By the time the two brothers looked up, I had already fled back to my room, only a glimpse of my skirt hem remaining in their line of sight. 10 That night, Dylan rushed to my room. He shed his usual sharp tongue and arrogance, explaining anxiously, “Don’t believe what my cousin said just now.” I asked, “Can you guarantee you won’t enter an arranged marriage?” Dylan hesitated, his words caught in his throat. He knew his parents’ personalities too well to make such a promise. I blinked, my voice almost a whisper— “Dylan, then how are you any different from Brandon?” Dylan was speechless. “…” He desperately wanted to promise something. But any words, at that moment, felt so hollow. Before the door closed completely, a hint of melancholy touched my eyes. “I must have been foolish to believe your words that day. After all, you’re just like Brandon, only slightly more free.” “You should go.” Each word landed like a heavy blow in Dylan’s heart. Just before the door completely shut him out, he suddenly raised his voice. “Rachel, I will do what I promise! “Just give me a little more time!” 11 Dylan left the next day. His whereabouts unknown. Instead, a large sum of money, a full ten million, landed in my bank account. It was all of Dylan’s personal savings. And the only guarantee he could give me. “I don’t understand.” “What methods did you use to charm both Brandon and Dylan so completely?” When I stepped out, Landon was already seated on the sofa. Having studied at old aristocratic schools for years, he exuded an aura of nobility. Not to mention he was now the CEO. As he approached, his presence was completely different from the scions I usually interacted with, full of an almost oppressive power. I dared not speak much. I simply lowered my head, meekly saying, “Can you move please? I need to go out.” “Look up.” I didn’t dare. Landon said, “If you treat me with that attitude, I can have the money Dylan transferred to you reclaimed in the company’s name.” At those words, I immediately snapped my head up. The corners of my eyes were already red-rimmed from the strain. “What exactly do you want?” Landon stared at me for a long time, his gaze lingering on the outer corners of my eyes. For a moment, I felt an almost aggressive presence wash over me. “I’ve looked into you.” “The things Brandon gave you, you just sold them for cash.” “Dylan was even more foolish, giving you fifteen million after only a few days of seeing you.” “But your personal expenses are minimal. All the money quickly transferred out of your account.” “I’m guessing you’re paying off your family’s debts.” “Am I right, little Rachel?” 12 My family’s bankruptcy wasn’t unfair. It started when my father blindly expanded the company, leading to a break in the capital chain. He couldn’t bear the blow and jumped to his death. Soon after, the family properties were foreclosed, and all assets, including luxury items, were frozen. My sister, Nadia, rushed to another province, scrambling to raise funds. I was left penniless and homeless. The future for us two sisters seemed laid out before us—working to pay off debts. I refused to live that life. Since I didn’t have the same ability to maneuver as my sister, I decided to leverage the resources at hand— To extract a fortune from the rich crowd of childhood friends. Brandon was the first to fall for it. Initially, he was very generous with living expenses. Until later. Perhaps as we spent more time together, my value in his eyes slowly diminished. Gradually, I became indistinguishable from any other gold digger. And the treatment I received shouldn’t be special. Once I realized that. I decisively broke up with him and promptly latched onto Dylan. This wasn’t a last resort. It was because I knew from the start that this perpetually sharp-tongued rival had, in our school days, secretly kissed the top of my head while I was asleep. He liked me. To test how much he was willing to give, I had deliberately drunk that night in the VIP room. The facts proved. Dylan was far more generous than Brandon. Unfortunately— There was also a much smarter Landon in the Song family. He was now the true power holder. 13 “That’s none of your business, is it?” I finally stopped hiding, just tilted my head and smiled. “You’re not even direct brothers, do you really need to be so meddlesome?” Landon fell silent. I walked past him, and just as I stepped out of the lobby doors, a voice suddenly came from behind me. “Rachel, at this rate, when do you think your family’s two hundred million debt will be paid off?” “Brandon is stingy, Dylan has other considerations. How much can you really get from them?” “And pushing it further, how much longer can your sister hold out?” That last sentence made my outgoing steps halt. My sister had been gone for three months. She was seeking out old connections, pleading for commercial support. Besides checking in to say she was safe, there had been no other news. But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. It required asking for favors, attending endless dinners and drinks, lowering all pride. So even though I knew Brandon was with me only to enjoy the sense of control over a fallen socialite, I pretended to be completely oblivious. The more I could extract here. The easier it would be for my sister. The silence lasted for several minutes. Finally, I turned around and slowly walked back, getting closer and closer to Landon. The once refined young man had long since grown into a broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted figure. I stood before him. As if to be completely enveloped by his presence. I stepped closer. He didn’t retreat. It wasn’t until I fully leaned in that I tilted my head back, my slender fingers gently gripping his shirt. “Brother Landon, can you help me then?” 14 Landon didn’t give me money. But under other names, he privately injected five hundred million into my sister’s company. The price was— I moved from Dylan’s adjacent room into his. Landon at twenty-eight. And my ‘Brother Landon’ at fourteen. They were truly different. There was no tenderness. When he gripped my waist, I was almost brought to tears. “Bastard—” Landon’s breath caressed the back of my neck, not soft as usual, but laced with a fierce possessiveness. “Rachel.” “Look at me.” “Why didn’t you come to me? I was waiting for you all along.” My eyes couldn’t focus at all. Even as he held me up, I was as soft as water, completely unable to make out what he was saying. “?” Landon stared at me for a long time. Finally, as if in punishment, he bit my shoulder. “You like jewelry, do you?” “I’ll take you to the auction tomorrow.” His breathing was exceptionally sensual as he spoke. “Eight million? That hardly does you justice.” His words jolted me fully awake. There, for a fleeting moment. I had a chilling realization— Landon knew everything. He had planned this all along.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390916”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After failing the Bar Exam six times, I finally passed. But the moment I got my license, I transmigrated into a trashy romance novel—specifically, the kind where the female lead gets tortured, abused, and framed for everything. In this world, getting kicked and slapped is a Tuesday. Miscarriages and forced organ donations are just plot points. I used to read this book as a “what not to do” legal case study. Now, God has given me a chance to practice law in the field. So, staring at the “White Moonlight” (the hero’s first love) who was about to frame me for my own miscarriage, I pulled out my phone and started screaming: “Help! Murder! The mistress is trying to kill the pregnant wife!” It’s time to teach these law-illiterate idiots a lesson. 1 When I woke up in this world, I was in a hospital bed, the smell of disinfectant stinging my nose. “Ugh,” I wrinkled my nose. Standing by my bed was a tall figure in a black trench coat, his voice icy cold. “Stop pretending to be dead. Get up and apologize to Bella.” That line sounded familiar. Wasn’t this the trashy novel I read before bed? Caleb Vance stood there against the light, hands in his pockets, posing like he was in a photoshoot. In the original story, Caleb and the heroine, Sarah, were in a loveless marriage. Sarah secretly loved him, and Caleb was unknowingly falling for her—until his first love, Bella, returned from abroad. Bella drugged Caleb to sleep with him but accidentally sent him into Sarah’s bed. She then framed Sarah for the drugging. Sarah couldn’t explain herself, and the misunderstanding deepened. From that night, Sarah got pregnant. But Bella showed up, deliberately provoked her, and pushed her down the stairs, causing a miscarriage. And now this jerk wants me to apologize to Bella? I’m not the original Sarah. I’m here to clean house. I frowned impatiently. “Apologize my ass!” Caleb froze. “You finally stopped pretending? Bella was right. Your gentleness was all an act!” He stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “You fell down the stairs yourself and framed Bella! She’s so guilty she hasn’t eaten since you passed out. Have some conscience and apologize to her!” Get your hands off me! I yanked my arm back. My vision blurred—this body was still weak from the miscarriage. I glanced at him and held out my hand. “Give me your phone.” Caleb frowned, seeing my pale face. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes as he pulled out his phone. “Apologizing over the phone is fine too. Given your condition, I’ll let it slide this time…” Before he could finish, I snatched the phone and dialed three numbers. 9-1-1. “Hello? I want to report an assault.” Caleb: ? The police arrived quickly. I cleared my throat and started wailing. “Officer, help me!” I pointed a shaking finger at a confused Caleb. “My husband is cheating on me! His mistress pushed me down the stairs! My baby is gone! Boohoohoo! My poor baby!” Caleb’s face turned green. Under the officers’ stern gaze, he stammered, “I didn’t… I wasn’t…” “Caleb…” Everyone turned. Bella stood at the door in a white dress, looking fragile and pitiful. God, she can act. I decided to strike first. I ripped the IV out of my hand, curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, messed up my hair, and screamed: “Help! She’s here! The murderer is here! She’s going to kill me! She killed my baby!” Bella’s carefully curated “fragile” expression cracked. Caleb moved to comfort her, but the lead officer blocked him. “Sir, the victim has accused both of you of assault. Please step back.” Bella: “?” Another officer approached to calm me down. I hid behind him, trembling. “She pushed me. My baby was only three months old… he never even saw the world.” Caleb roared, “Sarah! Stop lying! You fell yourself! How dare you call the police! Filing a false report is a crime!” I looked at the officer with teary eyes. “It’s true. Since I got pregnant, I installed cameras all over the house for safety. You can check the footage!” The officer nodded and sent a colleague to retrieve the video. Bella turned pale. She thought there were no witnesses. The original heroine was stubborn and never used the evidence she had. But I’m not her. The police returned quickly. The body cam footage clearly showed Bella backing me into a corner and shoving me down the stairs. Bella’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor. Caleb mumbled, “Impossible… Bella really killed my child…” Bella crawled to him, grabbing his pant leg. “Caleb, I didn’t mean to! I just wanted her to stop hogging you! I didn’t mean to kill the baby! Forgive me, please!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you delusional? Who are you asking forgiveness from? I was the one pushed! I lost the baby! I am the victim lying in this bed! You’re crying at the wrong grave, you idiot!” Bella: “?” Caleb: “?” Police: “???” Oops, forgot my character. I clutched my stomach and wailed, “Officer, the evidence is solid! Bella attempted to murder me! I want to press charges! She’s dangerous! I’m so scared!” Despite my terrible acting, the evidence was irrefutable. Bella was taken away in handcuffs. Caleb stared blankly as Bella was dragged out. What are you looking at? You’re next. I lay back down. “Caleb, I want a divorce.” Caleb’s lip trembled. “Divorce? What right do you have to ask for a divorce?” Ah, the classic CEO line. I grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and chucked it at his forehead. “You think having money makes you an emperor? You think you own me? I have every right to divorce you! It’s a legal right, not a favor you grant! Tomorrow I’m sending the papers. If you don’t sign, I’ll release the footage! ‘CEO of Vance Group cheats on wife, mistress kills unborn heir!’ Let’s see how your stock price likes that!” Blood trickled down Caleb’s forehead. He looked more disheveled than he ever had in his life. “Sarah… you shouldn’t be like this.” I laughed coldly. “Then what should I be like? A doormat? Letting you and your mistress walk all over me? Smiling while you cheat? Go to hell. No one is going to spoil you forever. I’m not your mother!” Caleb left, looking like a lost soul. My chest suddenly ached. I realized it was the original owner’s lingering feelings. Stop hurting. He’s not worth it. 2 Bella was detained for 15 days for assault. She avoided prison likely due to Caleb’s connections. The day after I called the police, I hired a lawyer to draft the divorce papers, clearly dividing our assets. I never understood why heroines in these novels always leave with nothing to prove their “purity.” I was tortured physically and mentally—I deserve half his fortune and emotional damages! Unfortunately, Caleb refused to sign. After days of stalling, he sent his mother—my mother-in-law—to persuade me. Mrs. Vance sat there in her Chanel suit, sipping coffee. “I know Caleb was wrong. But in our circle, men have needs. It’s just a fling. Calling the police was too much. You embarrassed the family.” Wow. The audacity. I picked up my coffee and threw it in her face. “AHHHH!” Mrs. Vance shrieked, brown liquid dripping from her expensive hair and suit. “Sarah! Are you crazy?!” “Yes! Driven crazy by your shameless family! Your son cheated and killed his own child, and you’re telling me to calm down? Are you even human?!” “You…” “You what?! You raised a son who grew up to be a cheater and a murderer-by-proxy! Do you take no responsibility as a mother?” “I…” “Shut up! ‘Men have needs’? I seem to recall when your husband had an affair with a starlet, you threatened to hang yourself! Rules for thee but not for me? If you’re so magnanimous, why didn’t you throw them a wedding?” “He…” “He nothing! I’m divorcing him! I’m taking half the assets! Be grateful I’m not suing your whole family for emotional distress!” Mrs. Vance’s face darkened. She waved to her bodyguards. “Take this ungrateful woman to the basement! I need to teach her some manners!” The basement? I remembered now. This old hag used to lock the original Sarah in the basement to “discipline” her. Illegal imprisonment? I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello? I’m at the Vance Estate in East District! My mother-in-law is trying to imprison me! Help!” Mrs. Vance froze. “What are you doing?” I sneered. “Giving you a lesson in civilization.” The police arrived efficiently. The lead officer looked between us with a complicated expression. “You again?” I hid behind him. “Yes, officer! This is my mother-in-law. She’s trying to lock me in the basement because I want to divorce her cheating son!” The officer frowned at Mrs. Vance. “Ma’am?” “I… I was just scaring her…” “Lies! If I hadn’t called, I’d be in the dungeon right now!” I played the recording on my phone. “Officer, listen!” The recording clearly captured her ordering the bodyguards to seize me. The officer looked stern. “Ma’am, this isn’t the feudal era. Restricting personal freedom is a crime.” Mrs. Vance wilted. “I didn’t actually do it…” “Threatening is also illegal!” Mrs. Vance, with messy hair and coffee-stained Chanel, got a 15-minute lecture from the police. I knew they couldn’t arrest her for a threat, but the humiliation was enough. As we left, the lead officer looked at me with deep sympathy. “Life is hard. Stay strong.” “Thank you, officer. Sorry for the trouble.” Watching the police car leave, I sighed. “God bless the legal system.” 3 Caleb kept stalling. Bella was anxious too. She tried to cause trouble, but I wasn’t the original Sarah. She released snakes in my new apartment. I had cameras. I called the police. “Yes, it’s me. Bella is trying to kill me with snakes.” She spread rumors online that I was the mistress, doxxing me. I called the police. “Officer, I’m being cyberbullied and doxxed. I’m suicidal!” Bella went back to jail for another 15 days. During those 15 days, Caleb stalked me like a ghost. “What the hell do you want?” I met him at a cafe. He looked thinner. “I misunderstood you. I didn’t know Bella was like that. I apologize.” “Accepted. Bye.” “Sarah, wait.” Caleb looked at me intensely. “You’ve changed.” Here we go. I rolled my eyes. “Changed how? Not a doormat anymore?” Caleb smiled bitterly. “You don’t love me anymore.” I nodded solemnly. “Correct.” “Why?” WHY?! “Are you serious? You cheated. You let your mistress kill my baby. And you ask why? Are your brains in your pants? Use the head on your shoulders for once!” Caleb sat there, stunned. I felt better after venting. “Sign the papers. Or I sue.” Of course, the donkey didn’t sign. When Bella got out, he still refused. I hired the best divorce lawyer money could buy and sued. In court, my lawyer presented everything. Bella’s framing, the snake incident, the cyberbullying. Plus Caleb’s cold texts to the original Sarah and Mrs. Vance’s abuse. “Defendant Caleb Vance failed his duties as a husband. His infidelity and enabling of Bella led to my client’s physical and mental trauma, including the loss of her unborn child. We request a divorce and a favorable division of assets!” I gave my lawyer a thumbs up mentally. The court granted the divorce and divided the assets fairly. Walking out of the courthouse, the sun felt brighter. Caleb stumbled after me, trying to grab my hand. I dodged. “Sir, we are no longer married. Don’t touch me, or I’ll sue for harassment.” Caleb looked lost. “Sarah… I realized I love you. My feelings for Bella were just nostalgia… I…” “Stop! That’s disgusting, Ex-Hubby.” “I regret not cherishing you. I’ll make it up to you!” I was already walking away. Just give me the money. 4 Caleb was serious about “making it up to me.” He sent flowers daily. Left jewelry at my door. Sent gourmet breakfasts. It was annoying. I fed the breakfasts to stray dogs. I stuck the flowers in public planters. I sent the jewelry to his mother via courier. (Heard she fainted from anger). I felt no lingering emotions from the original Sarah. She had truly let go. One day, after shopping, Caleb was stalking me again. I called the police. “Officer, I’m being stalked.” Caleb: “…” The police found him squatting by a telephone pole. Officer: “Again?!” Caleb: “I just want to win her back.” Officer: “1. Too late. 2. This is harassment!” Caleb promised to stop. The officer patted my shoulder. “Hope you escape this mess soon.” Caleb watched me from afar. “Sarah, can I ask one question?” “Ask.” “Are you really Sarah?”

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My dad booked my high school entrance physical. While getting my blood drawn, I heard the nurse confirm: “Is this the sample for the bone marrow match?” I froze. That wasn’t on my physical form. And a match? A match for whom? She accidentally dropped the lab requisition form. As she bent to pick it up, a few lines of text stabbed into my eyes: Patient: Sophia Wu. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Guardian Signature: David Wu. I picked it up to confirm. It was definitely my dad, David Wu’s, handwriting. Who is Sophia Wu? Why is my dad her guardian? I immediately called my dad. “Dad, why does a school physical need a bone marrow match?” His voice paused, a hint of panic creeping in. “The hospital must have made a mistake, right? But it’s just a test, doing one or two extra won’t hurt.” I smiled and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the ward listed on the form. 1 Walking into the ward, I saw the girl lying in the bed. She was pale and frail. Her eyes and brows looked almost exactly like my dad’s. My heart sank. Clenching my fists, I walked over and asked: “Are you Sophia?” She was stunned, looking up at me. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind. I turned around. It was her mother. She looked to be in her thirties, young, dressed simply, with the air of a gentle wife and mother. She looked a bit flustered, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly. “You must be Sophia’s classmate?” Her voice was urgent and a bit shaky as she came up to pull me away. “She needs to rest. Come outside for a moment, I have something to tell you.” I didn’t refuse and followed her out of the ward. In the hallway, she visibly relaxed and hesitated before speaking: “You are…” I held up the requisition form and questioned her directly: “Why is my father’s signature on your daughter’s guardian line?” “Ma’am, what is your relationship with my father?” The hospital hallway was busy with people coming and going, some even recognizing her as they passed. She hadn’t expected me to lay my cards on the table so directly. Her expression grew even more nervous as she forced a smile to greet acquaintances. Then, with a strained smile, she explained to me: “That signature… my daughter is sick, and a charity organization is sponsoring her. The person in charge was there when we paid the fees, so he just signed it.” “My daughter has the same last name as me, Wu. It’s just a coincidence, don’t overthink it.” Her words were gentle, trying to avoid suspicion. But her gaze on me revealed a trace of malice and covetousness. I met her eyes directly. She looked guilty and subconsciously tucked her hair behind her ear. I saw the diamond ring on her hand clearly. It was familiar. It was a designer piece. And it was from my mom’s favorite designer. This reclusive designer had released a new collection recently, which the industry was buzzing about. It just happened to coincide with my parents’ wedding anniversary. I had secretly reminded my dad to snatch up this diamond ring for my mom as an anniversary gift. He agreed and asked me to keep it a secret, saying he planned to surprise Mom. But on the anniversary, what he brought out wasn’t the limited edition at all, but a common co-branded piece available in any store. Even the stones on it were cubic zirconia. My dad explained that he got the time wrong due to the time difference during an international meeting and missed it. He could only use the co-branded piece as a placeholder and would find someone to contact the designer for a custom piece later. Turns out, he didn’t miss it. He just gave it to another woman. And used a perfunctory gift to dismiss my mom. I gritted my teeth, suppressing the surging anger. Staring at Grace’s awkward expression, my smile didn’t reach my eyes: “Ma’am, your ring is beautiful. Is it the designer limited edition?” “My mom waited a long time but couldn’t buy it.” She probably didn’t expect a kid like me to recognize it. Her movements froze instantly, her face turning ugly. She hurriedly pulled her hair forward to cover the ring, stammering an excuse: “What designer edition… I don’t understand these things. My daughter bought it for me casually, it’s not worth much.” “I have to take care of my child, I’m leaving now.” “By the way, please don’t spread rumors about today, lest your family misunderstands.” With that, she turned in a panic and fled back to the ward. Watching her wretched escape, I sneered inwardly. Heh. A coward with no guts. Without looking back, I turned and left the hospital. Sitting in the car, I immediately contacted my grandfather’s assistant: “Help me check my dad’s recent unusual activities, especially his travel itinerary and financial transactions.” “Be quick, but be careful not to alert him.” “Save any evidence immediately.” 2 When I got home, my mom was stewing soup in the kitchen. My dad was busy with business when he was young and ate irregularly, resulting in serious stomach problems. He had undergone two stomach resection surgeries. My mom felt sorry for him. Someone who never cooked, she went into the kitchen especially for him. Soups, porridges, medicinal meals… She managed to nurse his stomach back to 70-80% health. From what I can remember, it’s been almost ten years now. In two days, it will be my parents’ 20th wedding anniversary. Yet at this moment, I discovered my dad was cheating. Watching her busy back in the kitchen, the resentment in my heart turned into sadness, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. She was over forty, but she kept her figure well and her skin was tight. She looked about thirty. Only those hands, with slightly enlarged knuckles, calluses on the palms, and a few pale old scars on the back. She used to love getting manicures, but later stopped because it was inconvenient for cooking. I walked into the kitchen and hugged her gently from behind. She was startled, then laughed and teased me: “You’re back? You’re about to be a high schooler, why are you still acting like a baby?” “Go out quickly, it’s smoky in here, I’m busy.” Seeing I didn’t move, she sensed something was wrong. Turning around, she saw my tear-streaked face and immediately looked nervous. “Lily, why are you crying? Didn’t you go for a physical? Dad didn’t go with you? Let me ask…” She reached for her phone as she spoke. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head hard. “Don’t call him!” My mom froze, looking at me uneasily, waiting for me to speak. I closed my eyes tight, my throat tight: “My dad… he’s cheating.” “The woman’s name is Grace Wu. She used to be his secretary.” My movements were stiff, my fingers trembling slightly as I took out the tablet from my bag. The screen lit up, showing the information Uncle Feng, my grandfather’s assistant, had helped me investigate. The light from the screen illuminated Mom’s pale face. I scrolled through the pages, showing her item by item. “They got together not long after she joined the company. That was when… you just got pregnant with me.” “Less than half a year later, she resigned because she was pregnant. My dad bought a large flat in the Cloud Mansion near our house, and the owner is her.” “When you were suffering in late pregnancy, swollen all over and unable to sleep, my dad was over there making pregnancy meals for her; when you were fighting for your life during a difficult labor, he was massaging her and walking with her to relieve pain.” “When you were lying in the hospital bed after the C-section, he was accompanying that woman for her checkups, telling her to walk more so she wouldn’t have to suffer a C-section later.” “Mom, that illegitimate daughter is only six months younger than me. He cheated while you were pregnant.” I cried as I spoke, tears falling on the tablet screen, blooming into small wet marks. My mom stared blankly at the text and photos, her eyes gradually turning red and filling with tears. “How could he…” “Dating, marriage, twenty years. How could he…” I hugged her tight, took a deep breath, and continued. “Mom, do you remember the fire at our house when I was little?” She nodded, her voice even hoarser: “Of course I remember. I was on a business trip, your dad was working and taking care of you. He turned around and you set the curtains on fire… He risked his life to save you, terrified, guarding you in the hospital, saying if you were gone, he couldn’t live either.” “Later, when you got out of the ICU, he was so nervous, following you everywhere, often waking up at night to check on you, and constantly comforting me, saying it was all his fault… At that time, I thought he really loved you and cared about this family.” Speaking of this, her words revealed a trace of cold sarcasm. I continued to scroll the screen, my finger stopping on an investigation report. “What if I said that fire wasn’t an accident at all?” “He thought I was asleep and was in a hurry to see that mother and daughter. He threw an unextinguished cigarette butt into the trash can.” “The window wasn’t closed, the wind blew the curtain in, and it caught fire. He locked me in the room… I had no ability to save myself.” “And he didn’t save me. A neighbor found out and called the police. Firefighters broke down the door and carried me out to the hospital. He… rushed there later.” “I was only a few years old then, and kept drifting in and out of consciousness, so I couldn’t remember exactly what happened.” “Do you think he followed me everywhere during that time because he loved me? He was afraid I would suddenly remember and tell you the truth… He was afraid you would turn against him and he would lose the resources and connections from Grandpa’s side.” My eyes burned, unable to distinguish between grievance and anger. The happiness I thought I had turned out to be a meticulously arranged scam. Grievance piled up to the peak and turned into anger. I hated him. I hated him for lying to Mom, and even more for giving me this fake love like charity for so many years. What are we in his eyes? But seeing Mom’s state, only heartache remained. She was the one hurt the deepest. I wanted to say more, but my phone rang suddenly. It was the hospital. “Hello, is this student Lily Wu? There are some indicators in your physical report that need to be rechecked. Please ask your parent to bring you to the hospital for a detailed checkup as soon as possible.” I was stunned, trying to make my voice sound calm: “Okay, I know.” Just after hanging up, my mom’s and my phones vibrated almost simultaneously. Sent to me: 【Lily, the hospital called saying you need a recheck. Dad will go with you the day after tomorrow.】 Sent to Mom: 【Honey, the French designer you like is holding a private exhibition next week. A friend sent two invitation tickets for the afternoon after tomorrow. You go, relax a bit.】 The day after tomorrow, exactly when I go to the hospital for the recheck. He specifically sent Mom away, wanting to take me alone to… Mom and I looked at each other, neither speaking. I really wanted to know, what expression would he have when his conspiracy was exposed? 3 On the day of the recheck, I arrived at the hospital with my dad. While waiting for a red light, he picked up his phone and sent a voice message to my mom. “Honey, did you get to the art center? Is parking convenient there?” He was testing the waters. Soon, Mom replied. “Arrived, queuing to enter. Parking was a bit far, walked a bit.” She also attached a photo. A photo of her and a friend at the art center. My dad clicked to enlarge it, then followed up: “Heard ‘Morning Mist’ is on display this time, did you see it? Remember you like that painter very much.” A few minutes later, Mom sent a photo of the interior of the exhibition hall. “Saw it, more shocking than in the album. A bit crowded, talk later.” My dad seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He turned his head and gave me an impeccable smile: “Your mom can finally relax a bit.” Hypocrite. I pulled the corner of my mouth, the smile not reaching my eyes. At the hospital, he dutifully played the role of a good father. Recheck, examination, inquiry… He even carefully covered my eyes when blood was drawn. If I hadn’t discovered his affair and another daughter… I would probably rely on this tenderness and nestle in his arms like before. The process went quickly. After getting the blood draw receipt, he glanced at his watch, his tone natural. “Lily, wait here for a moment, don’t run around. Dad needs to use the restroom, back in a jiffy.” “Okay.” I lowered my eyes and answered softly. The direction he went was the hematology ward. After a while, I got up and quietly followed. The ward door was slightly ajar. I stood outside, looking through the crack. My dad was sitting by the bed, feeding Sophia medicine. The girl leaned on him with full dependence, crying. “Dad, I’m scared…” “Will I die? I don’t want to leave you and Mom…” My dad gently wiped away her tears, his tone very gentle. “Silly child, what nonsense.” “Dad found you the best doctors in the country and used the best medicine. Look, isn’t Dad always here with you? Our Sophia is the bravest, you’ll definitely get through this.” Grace also leaned over, stroking her daughter’s cheek: “Sophia, don’t be afraid, Mom and Dad are here. Your dad pushed aside so much work for you, running to the hospital every day, contacting this expert and that professor… Did you forget last time you suddenly had a fever in the middle of the night? Your dad was at a meeting abroad, took a red-eye flight back immediately after getting the call, and guarded you for two days and nights without closing his eyes. With Dad here, there’s nothing to fear.” The family of three was happy and harmonious. I stood outside like a clown. I remembered when I was eight, acute pneumonia, high fever almost 104 degrees, coughing my lungs out. Mom rushed me to the hospital, her hands shaking with panic. Called him, again and again, finally he only replied with a text: “With an important client, can’t leave, sorry for the trouble.” That whole night, it was Mom holding me alone in the emergency infusion room until dawn. Later I learned, that night, Sophia made a fuss not letting him go out. The so-called “important client” was accompanying them. My fingernails dug deep into my palm, but I felt no pain. Suddenly someone put an arm around my shoulder. It was Mom. She signaled me with her eyes that it was okay. At this time, the attending physician smiled and spoke: “Mr. Wu, Mrs. Wu, don’t worry. Although little Sophia’s indicators have fluctuated a bit recently, they are generally controllable. With the support of dedicated parents like you, the child’s good mentality is crucial for treatment. Our expert group has repeatedly deliberated the bone marrow transplant plan, and now we can operate as soon as the donor is ready.” “As long as it can save Sophia, anything is worth it.” My dad looked at Sophia, his voice firm. As long as it can save Sophia. What about me? Me, treated as a “donor.” Are my wishes, my health, worth considering? My heart ached numbly. My dad turned to the doctor, his tone steady. “I’ve already settled things with the donor. The relevant procedures can be completed today.” “Please take care of the surgery and arrange it as soon as possible.” Next to him, an elderly expert nodded in agreement: “Mr. Wu is truly resolute and cares so much about the child’s affairs.” “Rest assured, the operating room is ready. Once the donor finishes the final pre-op checks and preparations, we can proceed.” “With a father like you who has abundant social resources and is hands-on, the child is truly blessed.” The head nurse beside him also lamented: “Yes, Mr. Wu comes almost every day, we all see it. It’s rare to find a man who is successful in his career yet so family-oriented and responsible.” Another doctor added: “I heard Mr. Wu not only runs around for his daughter’s illness but also initiated a special relief fund in his own name to help families in similar difficulties. This benevolence is even more worthy of our admiration.” The ward was full of compliments and praise. Elevating him into a perfect father and philanthropist. Applause erupted as the words fell. The atmosphere was enthusiastic. Mom took my hand and pushed the door open, her voice cold and hard: “David Wu, is the recheck you mentioned just tricking my daughter here to be a donor for your bastard?”

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On our wedding anniversary, my husband’s ten-year-long research into a time machine finally succeeded. He intended to take our son back to the past to reunite with his deceased first love. As they were leaving, our son rolled his eyes at me and sneered, “You’re just a housekeeper. Don’t hold up Dad from seeing Aunt Clara!” My husband, his face cold and indifferent, added, “Eleanor Vance, I’ve already sold this house. Please move out as soon as possible.” I smirked. “You two better not regret this.” I followed them to the laboratory. In the final second before the machine activated, I reached out my hand towards the shimmering portal. They had no idea that I had waited ten long years for this exact moment—to save my original husband and daughter. 1 Dr. Michael Darabont’s research had finally paid off. He was going to take our son, Liam Darabont, and travel back in time, ten years into the past. And I, Eleanor Vance, had seen this news on a TV broadcast. Today was our tenth wedding anniversary. I had just finished making dinner, waiting for him to come home. The moment he walked through the door, I greeted him. “Michael, I’ve cooked all your favorite dishes to celebrate our ten-year anniversary.” Michael merely sighed softly. “Eleanor, we’re done. You’ve diligently looked after Liam and me for ten years, but I still can’t forget Clara.” Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his cold, clear eyes held no emotion, as if he were discussing something utterly mundane. I held the scalding hot plate, yet felt nothing. Gazing at the man in the crisp suit before me, I instinctively searched for the mole at the corner of his eye. “Michael, are you… divorcing me?” “My research is complete. I’m going to find Clara.” he stated. My fingertips, scalded crimson by the plate, belatedly released it. The dish instantly crashed to the floor, delicate cuisine scattering everywhere. My eyes widened in disbelief. “You… you’re going back? Ten years into the past?” Clara Sink was Michael’s first love; she had died ten years ago in an accident, and Michael had never forgotten her. “Yes. I’ll take Liam with me.” A faint smile flickered in his eyes, as if anticipating a reunion with Clara. I stepped forward, frantically grabbing his arm. “What about me, Michael? What do I count as? Today is our ten-year wedding anniversary…” “Eleanor Vance, this is where we end.” Michael ruthlessly pried my fingers off his arm, one by one. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, yet I felt no pain. “So you’re just going to abandon me?” I then turned to Liam. “Liam, are you abandoning your mother too?” My son, whom I had nurtured with all my heart, rolled his eyes at me. He walked to Michael’s side and surveyed me with a slightly disdainful look. “You’re old and ugly, always at home like a drab housewife. You’re nothing like Aunt Clara. Don’t hold up Dad and me from going back to find her. I want Aunt Clara to be my mom!” Looking at the two of them, a storm of emotions churned within me. When Liam was sick, I stayed awake for nights, my eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion, tending to him. Back then, he would hold my little finger like a tiny dumpling, calling me “Mommy,” bringing me origami cranes he made in kindergarten art class, and sweetly calling me “Mommy.” But as he grew older, he only complained that I was nagging, like a housekeeper, not as glamorous as other mothers. “Face reality. I won’t be coming back. And this house? I’ve signed a deed of donation, giving it to the foundation I established for Clara. As for you, pack your bags and move out as soon as possible.” Michael added. I found it almost laughable. They were leaving, and they still didn’t forget to donate the house to Clara Sink’s foundation? “Alright,” I took a deep breath. “I hope you don’t regret this.” “Regret? I’d only regret not being with Clara!” Michael stated, every word distinct. With that, he and Liam got into the car and drove away. He didn’t notice that I was driving another car, following closely behind them. Inside the lab, Michael and Liam’s eyes gleamed with excitement and anticipation. On the table, a machine pulsed with blinding light. “Dad, can this really take us back to Aunt Clara?” Liam’s round eyes swiveled, filled with curiosity. “Yes,” Michael curved his lips. Hearing Liam mention Clara Sink, a rare tenderness flickered across his face. It was a look I had never seen before. At his words, Liam’s eyes lit up. “I love Aunt Clara the most! Aunt Clara is so beautiful, like a fairy. Mom, on the other hand, looks like a drab old housewife. I don’t want a drab housewife as my mom.” Michael stroked his head. “Don’t worry. When we go back, Aunt Clara will be your mom.” Look. My decade of care and companionship meant so little to them, they were even willing to risk time travel to go back and find Clara Sink. But none of that mattered anymore. As the father and son disappeared into the shimmering portal, I rushed forward, taking three steps at a time, and reached out to touch the machine just as the light was about to fade. The next second, a powerful force pulled me in. When I regained my senses, I was standing on an empty road, everything both unfamiliar and familiar. I had truly returned to ten years ago. A wild joy surged through me, but then a voice beside me suddenly asked, “What are you doing here?” I looked up, meeting Michael’s dark eyes. “You’re not following us to cause trouble, are you? Eleanor Vance, give it up. Even if you come back, there’s no way we’ll be together.” His brow was deeply furrowed, his face etched with defensiveness. “Bad woman, don’t hurt Dad and Aunt Clara!” The four-year-old Liam stood in front of Michael, his small fists clenched, as if I were his enemy. I pursed my lips, speaking with a feigned bewildered expression, “Excuse me, have you mistaken me for someone else?” Michael paused, his expression still full of distrust. “Mistaken you? You think putting on that act will make me believe you, Eleanor Vance? What are you really up to?!” I ignored Michael, turning to leave. “Don’t you dare move!” Michael grabbed my wrist. “You explain yourself. Were you deliberately following us? Are you trying to ruin things between Clara and me?” He gripped my wrist so hard it hurt. I forcefully pulled away, stumbling a few steps and bumping into someone behind me. A girl behind me gasped, and just as I was about to apologize, a sharp slap landed on my cheek. Michael spat on the ground. “Eleanor Vance, you truly are malicious!” I gritted my teeth and looked up, only to see Michael holding the girl I had bumped into. He looked at her as if she were a treasured possession he had lost and found again. “Clara, are you alright?” he asked in a low, gentle voice. “Are you blind?” Liam yelled, then scurried to Clara’s side, his face filled with worry. Oh, so they could care about people? I remembered when I was doubled over with acute gastroenteritis, barely able to get out of bed, and asked Michael to buy me medicine. He frowned, coldly saying, “Can’t you buy it yourself? I have a project at the institute; I’m very busy.” Then he grabbed his bag and left without looking back, leaving me, pale and almost fainting from pain, in the room. I asked Liam to call a doctor for me, but Liam was playing games on his phone, impatiently glancing at me. “Wait until I finish this round.” It wasn’t until hours later, when the cleaning lady found me passed out from pain and called an ambulance, that I barely survived. But now, Clara Sink was merely accidentally bumped, and my son was mocking me, and Michael even hit me! How truly absurd. Clara, leaning in Michael’s arms, her small face pale, her eyes slightly red-rimmed, looked as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. “Eleanor Vance, apologize to Clara!” Michael turned to me, still sitting on the ground, his face livid with rage. “I’m fine, this young lady didn’t mean it…” Clara bit her lip and began to speak. “Michael, who is she?” Michael paused. “She…” “Aunt Clara, she’s a bad woman who likes my dad!” Liam immediately interjected. Hearing Liam’s words, Clara’s gaze towards me flickered. “Oh, is that so… I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “No, I have nothing to do with her.” Michael hastily explained, disassociating himself from me. A decade of marital affection dismissed with a flimsy “nothing to do with her.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh, struggling to get up from the ground. “Sir, I don’t even know you, yet you pushed me and hit me, and now you’re saying strange things. Are you unwell?” “Stop pretending! You’re here. Who would believe you weren’t following me?” Michael’s brow was deeply furrowed, his gaze filled with disgust. “I told you, I will never like you. Stop bothering me.” “Exactly! Dad only likes Aunt Clara, you give up!” Liam chimed in from the side. Just then, a familiar yet unfamiliar male voice came from across the street. “Simon!” I looked up towards the source of the voice, a man in a white shirt and dress pants was waiting at the traffic light on the opposite side. He held an ice cream cone in his left hand and was holding the hand of a lovely, delicate little girl with his right. The little girl was waving at me. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, and my nose began to sting with tears. The red light turned green. He picked up the girl with one arm, lifted his foot, and was about to walk over. “Simon! Don’t move!” Seeing the scene, I couldn’t care about anything else and shrieked. Simon was startled by my shout. He paused, stopping in his tracks. The next second, a large truck, having run a red light, sped past, narrowly missing him. My heart felt as if it had been squeezed, and a drowning sensation of suffocation left me gasping for air. After triple-checking that there were no more cars, Simon finally ran over to me with the child in his arms. “That really scared me just now,” he said, putting the child down and patting his chest, still shaken. Then he handed me a pink ice cream cone. “Here, Eleanor, your favorite strawberry ice cream.” He curved his lips, his eyes full of warmth. “Simon… Elara…” Looking at these two faces I hadn’t seen in ten years, I was still somewhat dazed. Simon tucked the ice cream into my hand and gently ruffled my hair. “What’s wrong? I just went to buy you an ice cream, why do you look like you’re about to cry?” “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Elara’s tender voice asked, and she held out her tiny hand to me. “Elara wants a hug from Mommy.” My heart pounded rapidly. I took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up Elara, kissing her cheek. “Mommy’s fine. Mommy just missed Elara so much.” “Why is your cheek a little swollen? What happened just now?” Simon noticed my injury with a keen eye. I shook my head. “Nothing. Just got bitten by two mad dogs.” “Who are you calling mad dogs?” Michael glared at Simon and Elara, his face as black as a pot. “Whoever answers is a mad dog.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Dad… this person… he looks a lot like you…” Liam tugged at Michael’s sleeve, suddenly speaking in a small voice. His words were like adding fuel to the fire. Michael immediately demanded, “Eleanor Vance, who are they?” I blinked, looking at the beautiful mole beneath Michael’s eye, and then at Simon, who had a similar mole in the same spot. Not that similar, perhaps, but their features certainly bore a striking resemblance, almost like a ghostly echo. “Sir, this is my husband and my daughter. I’ve already told you that you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” I said slowly, licking my ice cream. “I don’t know you.” Seeing Michael’s unfriendly tone, Simon immediately stepped in front of me, frowning. “Who are you? Please don’t harass my wife and daughter.” “Wife? Daughter? Ha! Eleanor Vance, why didn’t I ever notice that you had someone else behind my back? You certainly have a knack for it!” Michael felt completely deceived, his pride wounded, but I insisted I didn’t know him, leaving him with a helpless feeling, like punching cotton. “Michael…” Seeing how angry Michael was, Clara couldn’t help but interject, “Don’t be angry, didn’t you say you had nothing to do with her?” “Yes, of course, nothing to do with her.” Michael snorted coldly. “Eleanor Vance, you’ll regret coming to beg me!” “You’re overthinking it.” I said coldly. “Dad, Aunt Clara, let’s go to the amusement park!” Liam, upon seeing his beloved Clara, had no interest in watching Michael and me argue. He couldn’t help but urge them to leave. Michael pursed his lips, his jawline sharp enough to cut me. He clenched his fist in suppressed anger, finally dropping a curt, “Fine, you’re on your own.” Then he took Clara and Liam and walked away. I glanced at the backs of the three of them, then indifferently pulled my gaze away. “Eleanor, let’s go home.” Simon took my hand, his warm fingers intertwining with mine. He didn’t know that I had waited ten years for those words, “Let’s go home.” “Simon…” The ice cream in my hand slipped and fell to the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging both him and Elara. Tears finally streamed down my face. “I’ve missed you so much, Simon…” I sobbed uncontrollably, my snot and tears soaking his collar. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Seeing me crying so hard I was gasping for breath, Simon visibly panicked. He fumbled, pulling out tissues to wipe my tears, while gently patting my back. “Eleanor, did that man just now bully you? What happened while I was buying ice cream? Don’t cry. I’ll go teach him a lesson!” Simon shook his fist, pretending to chase after Michael. I hugged him tightly, muffling, “No, Simon, don’t leave me, not for a minute.”

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