Category: English

In the early evening, the billionaire heir tweeted that he’d “lost a woman.” By midnight, the internet had tracked her down—to my bed. Netizens: “Respect. We guessed Chloe Sterling was a lesbian, but we didn’t guess she’d dare touch the billionaire heir’s girl.” 01 4:00 AM. My manager’s incessant calls forced me to pause what I was doing. “Be good,” I whispered, stroking the smooth back of the woman in my arms. “Let me take this call.” The moment I answered, my manager, Nicole’s, voice pierced the heavens and assaulted my eardrum. “Chloe Sterling?! Where the hell are you right now?!” I pulled the delicate figure in my arms a fraction closer and answered: “At a hotel.” Nicole roared: “Are you sleeping with the billionaire heir’s woman at a hotel?!” I paused, surprised. “How did you know?” “Twitter is about to explode! Asher Vance tweeted earlier that he lost a woman, and netizens just exposed that she walked into a hotel with you tonight!” While silently marveling at the investigative skills of netizens, I replied: “She did walk into a hotel with me, so what? Is that illegal?” Nicole took a deep breath: “It’s not illegal, but that’s Asher Vance’s woman! Do you have any idea who Asher Vance is? If you cross him, you and I will be blacklisted and kicked out of Hollywood before the sun comes up!” Of course I know who Asher Vance is. I’m his older sister. We took different last names; one took our father’s, the other our mother’s. When I entered the entertainment industry, I hid my true identity to avoid sycophants. So, almost no one knows I’m the heiress of the Vance-Sterling empire, the billionaire heir’s sister. As for why I was sleeping with Asher’s woman, he only had himself to blame for dropping the ball. Three months ago, Asher sent me a picture. He said this newly debuted starlet was exactly his type and asked me to teach him how to woo her. I coached him for three solid months, and he successfully wooed the starlet—right into my arms. What can I say? Asher is hopelessly clueless when it comes to romance. When the starlet was on her period, I told him to buy her something sweet. He went all out, buying 500 cups of boba tea for her entire film crew. But for her specific cup, he added over ten different toppings. It was hilarious. It was thicker than oatmeal. Later, I went to explain Asher’s intentions to her. One thing led to another, and she ended up confessing that she liked me. What can I say? “Husband material” is a vibe, not a gender. “I know. I’ll handle it.” With that, I hung up and got back to business. 02 The next day, as soon as I arrived on set, the whispering and pointing began. “Is that the girl from the trending topic last night?” “Yeah, yeah, that’s her, Chloe Sterling.” “Hasn’t the heir blacklisted her yet? Why is she still on set?” I never paid attention to idle gossip. But there’s always that one bitch who insists on twisting the knife. “Oh! The lesbian is here? With your sexual orientation, how are you even going to act opposite our male lead?” The speaker was the female lead of our current show, Mia Roberts. Her main talents were sleeping with directors and constantly pitting women against each other. She thought her dirty little secrets were safe, even having her agency craft a “pure, innocent” image for her. In reality, her exploits were common gossip among directors at high-end industry parties. “Chloe, I heard the male lead say this morning that if you aren’t replaced, he walks~” She leaned in close, laughing obnoxiously: “Given your B-list status versus a rising star, who do you think the director will keep?” Just then, the director marched over, looking furious. “Chloe Sterling, you’ve really outdone yourself! A massive scandal on just your second day of shooting! “Get out of here before Asher Vance blacklists you and drags the whole production down with you!” I scoffed: “Director Davis, there’s no rule in Hollywood saying actors can’t date, is there?” “Dating is my personal life, acting is my job. I haven’t made a single mistake in my work. On what grounds are you replacing me?” “No one cares if you date. But why did you have to date Asher Vance’s girlfriend?” “She’s not Asher’s girlfriend,” I argued firmly. “Right, right, she’s not Asher’s girlfriend, she’s your girlfriend now. “I’m not wasting any more breath on you. I’ve already lined up a new supporting actress. Get out.” Since it had come to this, there was no point in staying. I told my assistant to pack my things, and we left. 03 Not an hour after I left, my manager, Nicole, called. “I already got you a new gig. It’s a live reality show on a deserted island. I’ll text you the location. Cameras roll at 3:00 PM sharp.” “What kind of show is this? Why the rush?” “The producers said to ensure authenticity, all the guests were invited at the last minute. Absolutely unscripted!” “Alright, who are the other guests? I should do some homework.” Nicole hesitated for a moment on the other end: “You’ll see when you get there.” Two hours later, looking at the guest who arrived before me, I turned to stone. I pulled out my phone, opened iMessage, and started typing. [Asher Vance, are you crazy? Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation? Why are you on this show?] Asher: [Sister, stealing my girl is unforgivable! I put this show together at the last minute. This time, I’m taking back what’s mine.] I was truly speechless: [Are you sick in the head?] Just as I hit send, a familiar figure entered my line of sight. It was Riley. The woman Asher claimed to have “lost” last night, who also happens to be my girlfriend. Riley looked at me, a trace of confusion on her face. Oh, great! So this was Asher’s master plan. I was just about to text him a severe scolding when two more SUVs pulled up. The people inside stepped out. One was the A-list, award-winning actor Leo Hayes, who is also Asher’s longtime friend. The other was Mia Roberts, the very same girl who had been mocking me that morning. I frowned slightly, looked down, and continued texting: [And what about these two? What’s the point of inviting them?] Asher: [I heard that girl insulted you this morning. As your brother, naturally, I had to give you a chance for revenge!] [And Leo Hayes? I thought he never did reality TV.] Asher: [Him! He’s the new boyfriend I found for you, obviously!] I smirked. It seemed Asher still hadn’t figured out Leo’s true feelings. [Asher Vance, I think you need a boyfriend more than I do.] [Stop scheming to win Riley back. Why don’t you try wooing Leo?] [I guarantee he’s an easier catch than Riley.] Asher replied with an angry sticker: [What are you talking about?! Are you crazy?!] [Let me reiterate! I put this show together so I could compete with you fairly! I’m going to win Riley back!] Tsk! Idiot. I scoffed, swiped left, and deleted the conversation with Asher. Then I searched my contacts for Leo Hayes. [The great Leo Hayes doing a reality show? Feeling threatened?] [If I help you secure my brother, will you grant me a favor?] Leo read the message and looked up, meeting my eyes. His expression seemed to say, “How do you know about this?” 04 How I found out Leo had a crush on my brother dates back to a late-night, quickly-deleted Instagram post from three years ago. One night three years ago, I uncharacteristically stayed up until 5:00 AM. That night, Leo, who never posts personal updates, posted an emo late-night caption. [I hope the world will allow me to openly call his name and speak of love once more.] I accurately zeroed in on the key detail in that caption. The pronoun “his.” Just as I was about to reread it, the post vanished. Leo had deleted it. Suspicious. Highly suspicious. Wide awake, I instantly started scouring every social media platform for clues. After over two hours of digging, I found that the evidence was hiding in plain sight. Leo’s private Snapchat handle had the letters [AV] hidden in it. Leo was gay, and he liked my brother. When did this start? I began to ponder this question carefully. Leo is the son of our parents’ close friends. Asher and I are fraternal twins, and Leo is two years older than us. Leo entered the entertainment industry before Asher and me. He was a child star, known for his incredible acting skills from a young age. Later, I went abroad to study and didn’t pay much attention to domestic gossip. When I returned, Asher had already become the powerful “billionaire heir” of the industry. Leo had also swept numerous domestic awards and become a top-tier actor. To be loved by an award-winning actor… what did Asher do to deserve this! And he has the nerve to fight me for my girlfriend… I lowered my eyes. Just as I was about to reply to Leo, a long, pale hand gently grabbed my wrist. “Chloe, I think they’re about to start filming.” Riley’s voice was soft, making my heart flutter. I looked up. Cameras were already set up around us, and the director was approaching from a distance. Before the live stream started, I leaned close to Riley’s ear and whispered: “Asher put this show together. It seems that kid hasn’t given up on you yet. “But since you’re mine now, you don’t need to fear him. I’ll protect you.” Riley whispered back: “Chloe, I don’t want you and your brother to fight because of me. Should I just quit the show? My savings over the past few years should cover the breach of contract fee.” My lips curved into a smile as I glanced at Leo standing next to Asher. “Don’t worry, I’m going to find my idiot brother a very good home.” 05 At 3:00 PM sharp, the director yelled “Action,” and the live stream officially began. Within 5 minutes of going live, over a million viewers had flooded the stream. The netizens instantly erupted into intense discussion. [A live survival show on a deserted island? And it’s a surprise drop? They’re going big!] [Asher Vance? Chloe Sterling? And Riley?! Am I seeing things? A love triangle?!] [Chloe Sterling, you dared to steal our boy’s girl, get ready to starve to death on that island!] [Leo Hayes is here too! Isn’t this his reality TV debut? Is he here to support his bro?] [Is that our Mia Roberts on the far end?! Our Mia actually knows Asher Vance!] … Seeing the viewership hit their target, the producers began explaining the rules of the game to us. “Welcome to the live broadcast of Island Survival. This show has absolutely no script. The crew is only here to film; everything else depends entirely on the guests. “Now, please turn around and look behind you.” The five of us turned simultaneously. “Do you see that island in the distance? We will soon board a boat and land there. Once on the island, you are free to move as you please. There is only one exit. We hope you are observant and escape the island as soon as possible. “From this moment until you find the exit, we will be broadcasting live 24/7. Aside from a few unbroadcastable moments, you five guests will be entirely exposed to the cameras.” Asher really knew how to pick a location. This island was a new project launched by the Vance-Sterling Corporation this year. It wasn’t a real deserted island; all the facilities were professionally designed to provide an authentic survival experience while ensuring tourists’ basic needs and safety. However, the project had just been completed and hadn’t been announced to the public yet. So, naturally, Asher didn’t know that the final blueprints for this island were approved by me. I could walk from the entrance to the exit with my eyes closed. 06 15 minutes later, we landed on the island. To preserve the immersive experience, the camera crew were all wearing ghillie suits. “Leo, which way should we go? “This is my first time on a show like this, I’m a little scared.” I turned my head toward the voice. Mia was already clinging to Leo’s side, whining and acting cute. Leo visibly stiffened, then put some distance between them. “It’s my first time on a show too. I don’t really know.” Mia seemingly oblivious to Leo’s reluctance to engage with her, leaned in again. “Leo, it’s your first time too! “That’s perfect, why don’t we team up? “The dynamic between those three is too complicated. It’s better if we don’t get involved.” Leo’s expression darkened even further. I was just about to laugh when I realized my own backyard was on fire. Asher had somehow circled around to Riley and was apologizing to her. “Riley, guys usually chase me. This is my first time chasing someone, I don’t really have any experience. So if there were any misunderstandings before, I apologize. I hope you can forgive me.” Riley looked uncomfortable and shot me a plea for help. I reached out, pulled Riley behind me, and faced Asher head-on. “Riley is my girlfriend. Does the great Mr. Vance want to be a homewrecker?” Asher’s face turned red, then white with anger at my words. “Chloe Sterling, don’t push it! I pursued Riley first! You stole her from me! You’re the homewrecker!” I shook my head helplessly. What a stubborn mule. “Asher, sometimes, you really need to look back.” “What do you mean?” Although confused, Asher turned his head. Seizing the moment, I grabbed Riley’s hand and bolted. The moment Asher turned around, his eyes locked with Leo’s mid-air. The netizens instantly exploded. [Is there a possibility… Leo likes Asher?] [The way he looks at him is definitely not platonic. Does Chloe know something? Was she dropping hints?] [Are you crazy? Chloe needs to stop projecting her gayness onto everyone else. Even if the whole world turned gay, Leo would never like men!] [Exactly. Leo and Asher clearly just have a bromance. Shipping them is pointless; ship Leo and Mia instead.] After the brief stare-down, Asher’s roar echoed across the sky. “Leo Hayes! “Why are you just standing there watching?! What did I invite you here for?!” 07 Relying on my memory of the blueprints, I easily found the first rest stop. It was just like the plans—three tents, a water source, and raw ingredients prepared by the show. But the water was untreated and needed to be boiled before drinking. The ingredients also had to be cooked by us. I don’t know how to cook, so I looked at Riley. “Chloe, I’ll handle the food. You get a fire going.” … As the sunset faded and dusk blurred the horizon, the other three finally caught up with us. “I’m exhausted! How did you two walk so fast? “Chloe, is this stuff you made even edible? It looks like pig slop! I’m definitely not eating that! “Is this water clean? I’m drinking it, but if I get sick, my dad is going to kick your ass.” The moment Asher arrived, his mouth started running, critiquing everything. Seriously, some people are naturally suited to be boyfriends, not girlfriends, and Asher is one of them. The netizens started getting anxious for him too. [Asher, use your brain! Riley made that pot of food!] [Why does Asher talk so much?! Doesn’t he know girls like mysterious, aloof guys?!] [Why is Asher bringing his dad into this? A daddy’s boy like this, I wouldn’t want him even if he’s gorgeous!] [Minus points! Minus points! He’s just unlocked ‘Hell Mode’ for winning her back!] Riley couldn’t listen anymore and said softly: “It’s not pig slop. It’s dough drop soup, and I made it.” Asher froze instantly. When he looked up, his eyes were full of complex emotions. I couldn’t help but sneer, then handed Riley a bowl full of the soup. [Chloe did that on purpose, right?! She could have explained, but she kept her mouth shut just to mock our Asher!] [What a manipulative woman. I suspect she doesn’t even like Riley; she’s just using Asher to create buzz and drama!] [My poor Riley, reduced to a stepping stone for Chloe’s ‘villain’ rise to fame.] … “Riley, I didn’t mean it like that! “I just didn’t recognize that it was your cooking for a second.” I chimed in at the perfect moment: “You better hope so.” Asher glared at me and continued his flattery: “If you made this dough drop soup, it’s definitely the most delicious thing in the world. “If I don’t eat three bowls today, it’d be an insult to your cooking skills! “Leo! Hurry up and serve me a bowl!” Although Leo’s eyes held a hint of resentment, he obediently served him a large bowl. We sat around the campfire, eating and discussing the sleeping arrangements for the night. “Why are there only three tents? How are we supposed to split this?” Mia’s voice came through, pretending to be worried but secretly thrilled. Asher was the first to answer: “How to split it? Simple! “Leo and Chloe, Riley and me, and you by yourself!” “No!!” Four voices objected simultaneously. “What are you guys thinking?! I’m a gentleman; I would never take advantage of Riley!” “I disagree,” Riley refused again. “I’m afraid of the dark, I can’t sleep alone!” Mia seized the opportunity to make demands. Asher spoke again: “Then… Leo and I, Chloe and Mia, and Riley alone.” Asher pointed at me: “Bottom line, she cannot share a tent with Riley!” This childish behavior made me want to laugh. “Riley and I are a couple, and we’re both girls. It makes perfect sense for us to share a tent.” Mia finally saw her chance and quickly chimed in: “Then you stay with Riley, I’ll stay with Leo, and Asher can have his own.” Leo and I exchanged a glance and said simultaneously: “No way.” “How about this.” I decided to make a small sacrifice for Leo’s sake. “Riley and Mia, Asher and Leo, and I’ll take one by myself.” Riley quickly grabbed my hand: “Chloe, you’ll be all alone…” I patted her hand, reassuring her.

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My husband kept a young girl on the side. She was fresh, delicate, and completely uninhibited in bed. She gave him experiences he never had before. He reminded her to take her birth control. She pouted, playfully saying she wanted to give him a child. My husband sternly warned her that if she got pregnant, she was getting an abortion and they were breaking up. He said he would only ever allow his legal wife to bear his children. It sounded almost romantic, in a twisted, deeply devoted way. So, I told him: I’m pregnant. But he just stared at me in dead silence. Because we hadn’t slept together in five years. 01 “I cheated on you.” I thought when I said those words, Carter would remain perfectly calm and ask me, “Was it good?” Instead, his brow furrowed, and he stared at me for a long time without saying a word. Did he not believe me? Oh, right. Five years ago, I had lied to him. Back then, I was consumed by sheer, visceral hatred. But right at the absolute final moment, I snapped back to reality. Destroying my own dignity just to get revenge on him wasn’t worth it. So, I pushed Carter’s best friend, Ethan, away and got out of his bed. But I still maliciously covered myself in hickeys and bite marks. I went home and told Carter I cheated, demanding a divorce. In an instant, Carter’s eyes turned red. But that was the extent of it. When I found out he had cheated, I—the usually poised, elegant wife—completely lost my mind. The hyperventilation triggered respiratory alkalosis. I couldn’t breathe, and my fingers cramped into agonizing, rigid claws. I thought I was going to die. Carter calmly found a paper bag to help me regulate my breathing. He calmly explained himself, and calmly made his promises. “Chloe, we’ve been married for five years. I’m a normal man. Eating the exact same dish every single day gets boring.” “The pressure at work is crushing. Sometimes I just need to release the negative energy, but you are my wife. I have to respect you.” “Aside from physical fidelity, I can give you absolutely everything else you want.” I looked at him through tear-blurred eyes, desperately wanting to ask one question. Do you still love me? But I didn’t say a single word. He had already cheated. Whether he loved me or not was entirely irrelevant now. 02 I washed my face, absolutely determined to get a divorce. Carter wasn’t surprised. He calmly advised me to cool down and think it through carefully. It was true. Even after I caught him cheating, he remained perfectly emotionally stable, handling the situation with flawless composure. Even after I slapped him with every ounce of strength I had, he just looked at me with those calm, steady eyes, as if he were watching a toddler throw a tantrum. When I raised my arm to slap him again, he caught my wrist effortlessly. The biological difference in strength meant I couldn’t break free. Instead, he pulled me tightly into his chest, trapping me in his arms. The embrace that used to bring me so much warmth now sent a freezing chill straight to my bones. He tried to talk me out of it. My parents tried to talk me out of it. Even my best friend told me not to do it. Yes, in the eyes of everyone else—including my own parents—I was no longer worthy of the man Carter had become. The only reason I had him was that I got in early. I stayed by his side during the most agonizing, brutal days of launching his startup. It was like a high-risk venture capital investment, and I hit the absolute jackpot. He achieved massive wealth and status, and I got to sit back and reap the rewards. To divorce him meant losing a massive sunk cost, and I would become the laughingstock of our social circle. A lie repeated often enough becomes the truth. And for a moment… I hesitated. To placate me, Carter truly put in a staggering amount of effort. Expensive gifts flowed into the house like water. Aside from diamonds and jewelry, he bought me a luxury yacht, and a private island in the Caribbean. The island came fully staffed with a villa, infinity pools, and a private estate manager. He even cleared his schedule for two entire weeks to take me on the yacht to vacation on the island. We watched the sunrise over the ocean, ate freshly caught bluefin tuna prepared by a private chef, walked barefoot on the white sand beaches, and watched the brilliant, bleeding sunsets. He treated me better, more attentively, than when we first started dating. And for a second, I felt like maybe I was starting to heal… Until the dead of night. Carter had just showered. His warm body, still radiating the damp heat of the shower, wrapped around me from behind. But my brain couldn’t stop flashing back to the chat logs I had seen on his phone. He never responded to the girl’s cutesy good-morning texts or daily selfies. But when she asked him to pick out which lingerie set she should wear… He replied. Even though it was just one word. My heart felt like it was being crushed by a steel claw, tightening inch by inch. “When you sleep with her… do you kiss her?” I asked the question with freezing cold precision. The hand resting on my waist instantly went rigid. I violently ripped his arm off me and sprinted to the bathroom. The exquisite, Michelin-star dinner we had earlier ended up as a disgusting pile of vomit in the toilet bowl. Our two-week romantic getaway ended in exactly two days. 03 After that, I turned into a paranoid detective, obsessively scouring his clothes for any microscopic clue. There were no lipstick stains on his collars. No lingering cheap perfume. They were perfectly, immaculately clean. I found absolutely nothing. But the next time he came home late, the wire that had been twisting tighter and tighter inside me finally snapped. After I threw a hysterical, screaming fit, he started giving me the cold shoulder. When I realized I had turned into a bitter, paranoid, miserable housewife, I panicked. But the ultimate, bitter irony was… I found out I was pregnant. This should have been the greatest, most miraculous surprise in the world. I had wanted a baby for years, but we just couldn’t conceive. We went to top fertility specialists. My body was fine. His body was fine. It just wasn’t happening. We put IVF on the schedule. I endured hundreds of agonizing hormone injections. I suffered tremendously. When I found out he cheated, the emotional devastation was so severe I actually experienced some spotting, but I was too consumed by grief to care. I never expected that when this little life I had prayed for so desperately finally arrived… I no longer wanted it. I didn’t tell Carter. I went to a private clinic and had an abortion. When I woke up from the anesthesia, my soul felt completely hollowed out. I just stared blankly at the ceiling. That was when Carter appeared. His face was ghostly pale, his eyes overflowing with crushing disappointment. “Chloe, is this your way of getting revenge on me? The baby was innocent…” “Exactly. That’s why I couldn’t let it be born. A child forced to live in a loveless home is a tragedy.” “Carter. I want a divorce.” I repeated the sentence, my face completely numb. “No. We are not getting divorced.” He was even more absolute about it than I was. 04 Five years passed. Today, we are nothing more than strangers living under the same roof. The women by Carter’s side had changed. I heard his current favorite was a girl from the local ballet conservatory. She was vibrant, full of life, and had an incredibly flexible dancer’s body. He seemed to really favor her; she had lasted over six months without being replaced. The last time I saw him was a few days ago. The scenario was incredibly clichéd. There was a pile-up on the highway, and his car rear-ended mine. He was probably taking the girl to his beach house for the weekend. She was wearing a floral sundress and a wide-brimmed straw hat. She didn’t know who I was. The second she stepped out of the car, she was panicking and apologizing profusely. “I am so, so sorry! It’s completely my fault! I was trying to feed my boyfriend a snack while he was driving and it distracted him. He has a really bad stomach, and we rushed out this morning before he could eat breakfast…” She bit down nervously on her lip, coated in cherry-pink gloss. A healthy, rosy flush colored her soft, flawless cheeks. She was radiant, youthful, and so captivatingly beautiful you couldn’t look away. “It’s fine.” I looked past her to Carter, giving him a faint smile. “Next Thursday is our ten-year anniversary. Let’s get dinner.” Carter’s gaze remained perfectly calm and unreadable. But the young girl’s face instantly went ghost white. She looked at me in horror, then looked desperately at Carter, instinctively pressing her body against his arm for comfort. Like a fragile little bird needing protection. But Carter subtly, seamlessly stepped away, breaking the contact. “I’ll have my driver take you home.” “No need. I have somewhere to be. I won’t ruin your weekend plans.” The impact hadn’t been severe, but the seatbelt had jerked hard against my stomach. I needed to make sure the baby was okay. I got back into my car. Just as I went to pull the door shut, a heavy hand clamped down on the window frame. A large shadow fell over me. “Chloe, do you really have absolutely nothing else to say to me?” Carter looked down at me, his eyes dark and heavy with suppressed emotion. “Like what?” My tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Did you want me to throw a hysterical fit and beat up your mistress on the side of the highway?” I let out a soft laugh. “Don’t insult my intelligence. The millions of dollars you transfer to my accounts every year are more than enough to buy my silence.” “We’ll talk on Thursday.” Carter kept his arm braced against the door, staring at me with intense, swirling aggression hidden just beneath the surface. I met his gaze with absolute, chilling calm. Finally, he withdrew his hand. I hit the gas, merged back onto the highway, and changed lanes. Once I cleared the bottleneck of the accident, the road ahead was wide open and blindingly bright. I was married to Carter for five years, enduring hundreds of agonizing IVF injections, and couldn’t get pregnant. But the second I swapped out the biological father, getting pregnant became the easiest thing in the world. It seemed Carter and I truly had no destiny together. We were fated to walk completely different paths. 05 Because I gave him a heads-up, Carter arrived at the restaurant early. He even brought a gift. A meticulously selected ruby necklace. Top-tier, flawless pigeon-blood red. During our five years of unofficial separation, even though we rarely saw each other, the luxury gifts never stopped, and they were always obscenely expensive. By any superficial, materialistic metric, I had absolutely won this marriage. “I want a divorce.” After dropping the bomb that I cheated and was pregnant with another man’s child, I pulled the divorce papers out of my designer bag. I didn’t want to drag this out in a messy, protracted legal battle, so I was incredibly generous with the asset division. However, even after hearing that I was voluntarily surrendering all my equity shares in his company, Carter’s face remained perfectly blank as he asked: “Is Ethan the father?” Before I could even answer, he let out a harsh, mocking sneer. “You’re divorcing me so you can marry Ethan and have his kid?” “And then what?” “Are you actually delusional enough to believe Ethan won’t cheat on you?” I stayed silent. Carter’s words grew increasingly vicious. “Do you honestly believe in those fairy tales about the ultimate playboy suddenly reforming for true love?” “He’s slept with more women than I could even count. Aren’t you terrified of catching something?” Unlike Carter, who built his empire from nothing, Ethan was born into old, untouchable wealth. He was a notorious, unapologetic playboy in our social circles. But despite his chaotic personal life, his business instincts were lethal. He was Carter’s very first angel investor. Since they were around the same age, their purely transactional relationship slowly evolved into a genuine, ironclad brotherhood. Back in the day, whenever we ran into each other, Ethan would enthusiastically call me “Sister-in-Law.” I had no shortage of wealthy suitors before I got married, so I knew exactly what a man’s eyes looked like when he wanted you. Ethan’s eyes when he looked at me were never innocent. That was exactly why, when I wanted revenge, I chose him. I don’t know if it was because I rejected him at the absolute last second, but Ethan actually became obsessed with me after that night. The baby wasn’t Ethan’s, but I felt absolutely zero obligation to explain that to Carter. “Carter, you aren’t getting any younger. Didn’t you always desperately want a child? Once we divorce…” I deflected his interrogation, gently advising him to look toward his own future. But Carter’s lips were pressed into a tight, hard line. His eyes dropped to my stomach. His gaze turned terrifyingly dangerous, making every nerve in my body snap to high alert. “Chloe. You are going to have my child.” He spoke slowly, enunciating every single syllable. His voice was as cold and sharp as a scalpel. Five years ago, Carter had absolutely, categorically refused to divorce me. He threatened and bribed my divorce attorneys. He used his corporate influence to blacklist me across the entire legal industry, ensuring no reputable lawyer would take my case. He was willing to use the most ruthless, sociopathic methods to force our shattered marriage to stay intact. “Carter, I don’t want this to turn into an ugly, public spectacle. If you refuse to sign, I’ll go straight to the media.” “Let’s just end this with some shred of dignity, okay?” But he refused to budge. A crushing, suffocating wave of exhaustion washed over me. I raised my hand to rub my temples. Suddenly, he violently grabbed my wrist. His voice was hoarse and broken. “Abort the baby. Tell me whatever you want—money, property, shares—I will give you everything. We are not getting divorced.” “From now on… we will live a good, perfect life together.”

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To inherit a massive fortune, I married an old billionaire with one foot in the grave. I agonizingly counted down the days until he finally kicked the bucket. Only to find out he was leaving his entire estate to his eldest son. Hell no! I frantically posted an ad online, “Paying top dollar for a sperm donor,” hoping to secure a piece of the pie with a pregnancy. But right at the crucial moment… A row of floating text suddenly drifted across my vision. [Cannon fodder is always cannon fodder. So stupid. There’s a perfectly good man right next to her, yet she looks elsewhere.] [Sis, haven’t you noticed your stepson looking at you like a starving wolf?] [No! Don’t look for other men! The villain will completely snap and destroy the world!] [Author, please punish this shameless woman!] [Hehe, looking forward to the dark room play later~] I froze, looking in shock at the young man who had always been polite and gentle to me. 01 “Stepmother, is something wrong?” The young man asked with a polite smile. I snapped back to reality. “Ah? Oh, nothing.” I looked away. After a while, I peeked over again. The floating comments hadn’t disappeared; more had actually popped up. [Is this something a human brain could come up with?] [I’m speechless. Shouldn’t a normal person be sucking up to the heir right now? What the hell is ‘paying top dollar for a baby daddy’?] [Author, just kill her off already! My blood pressure is spiking.] [Hehe, I think it’s great. A beautiful idiot playing smart, only to be locked up and punished by her gentlemanly but secretly dark and twisted stepson. Damn, that’s hot!] [Living under the same roof for seven years and still hasn’t noticed Silas’s feelings for her. If she doesn’t need her eyes, she should donate them!] Me: “…” I really hadn’t noticed. 02 The old man was garbage, but his parenting was undeniably authoritative. Silas was so upright it was almost eerie. At twenty-two, when other kids needed their parents’ permission to open a can of soup, he had already fast-tracked his master’s degree and was taking over the family enterprise. Elegant, polite, flawless… those were the words outsiders used to describe him. Around me, he was strictly by the book. Like right now. After getting my “nothing” answer, even though he felt my gaze return to him, he didn’t ask again, calmly letting me stare. His eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses were fixed on his laptop. His profile was handsome, exuding a steady and almost ascetic aura that contrasted sharply with our materialistic world. Would someone so rigidly old-fashioned covet his young stepmother? Yeah, I must be hallucinating from binge-watching too much TV. I curled my lip and ignored the comments. 03 [He’s faking it! He can hold more than a Walmart shopping bag.] [He knows his stepmom is looking at him. To show off his perfect jawline, he’s pressing his tongue so hard against the roof of his mouth it might pierce through.] [I bet a bag of chips he’s Googling ‘Does inheritance law include the father’s wife’.] [Hereditary succession? Hahahaha…] Okay! I couldn’t ignore that. I decided to test it. I spotted a lipstick, knocked it off the table while reaching for my cup, and called out: “Silas.” The man looked up. “I tweaked my neck and can’t bend down. Could you pick that up for me?” Silas looked at where the lipstick had fallen, the permanent smile on his lips stiffening slightly. “Martha—” “Don’t call Martha,” I interrupted. “You’re closer. By the time she walks over, you’ll be done.” If he refused now, it would be weird. We locked eyes for two seconds. He nodded slightly. “Alright.” He walked over, squatted down, and reached into the gap between my leg and the sofa. I was wearing a tight pencil skirt that rested above my knees. As he got closer, I could feel his warm breath on my bare skin, sparking a tingling sensation. I forced myself to stay still. And watched the comments change: [Whoa, whoa, whoa? Why is she suddenly rewarding him?] [‘His eyes met an expanse of snowy white. The calf beneath the skirt was beautifully contoured, the ankle slender. Like fine jade, radiating a lustrous glow…’ Oh my god, looking through the villain’s POV, I’m falling in love with the stepmom too! So seductive!] [I’m afraid he’s going to lick it in the next second.] [Oh boy, someone’s going to have to cross his legs soon~] “Stepmother.” His voice snapped me back. I took the lipstick and stuck my tongue out playfully. “Thanks, Silas.” “You’re welcome.” He smiled back and returned to his laptop. From start to finish, not even the tips of his ears turned red. As if he really just picked something up and felt absolutely nothing. What the hell. The comments were definitely trolling me. Not expecting much anyway, I wasn’t too disappointed. Just found it funny. After all these years, I knew Silas better than anyone. I was crazy to believe those floating words. Feeling a bit bored, I got up to go back to my room for a nap. But right then. In my peripheral vision. Silas quietly adjusted his posture, crossing his legs. He even shifted his body slightly to the other side, as if hiding something. …Huh? 04 [The sister above called it! He crossed his legs hahahaha.] [Stepmom, hurry upstairs! Our tough guy desperately needs to go to his room for a cold shower.] [Please be precise, it’s ‘relieve himself’ and a cold shower! Two different things.] [Spitting facts.] … Who said these comments were nonsense? They were amazing! To make sure it wasn’t a coincidence, I tested him a few more times over the next few days. Every time, the comments proved their worth. I had to admit. —This kid was a master of disguise. And from the scattered info in the comments, I learned something even crazier. I was living inside a novel. Silas was the main villain. I was his cannon fodder stepmother, whose mindless antics would push him to the dark side before I was hastily killed off. Let me tell you something about that. Seven years. Do you know how I survived these seven years?! Facing an old fossil who could be my grandfather, waiting day and night to become a wealthy widow and collect my “emotional damage compensation.” Finally, the dream was about to come true. But the old bastard announced he was leaving his entire estate to Silas. I only got the rights to his ashes. Ha. Who the hell cares about a jar of calcium carbonate? Can I pawn it?! Furious and terrified of becoming penniless, I lost my mind. I saw a trending news story about a woman getting millions in child support from an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Maybe that could work for me? I decided to gamble. The old man was delirious anyway; who would know if the baby was his? Get the money first. But before I could execute my plan. The heavens warned me it wouldn’t work. And gave me a simpler, more efficient, and safer method. 05 The old man hadn’t kicked the bucket yet. So the inheritance distribution was just a draft. But Silas, as the heir apparent, was already busy. Dinners, galas… Perfect for me. “Silas, you’re back?” The man changing his shoes in the entryway looked up. His face was normal, his posture steady. Aside from a slightly unfocused gaze, he didn’t look drunk at all. He paused for a second and frowned: “Stepmother, it’s late. Why are you still up?” I hurried over. I naturally slipped my hands into the crook of his arm, supporting him. “How could I sleep when you aren’t home? I had to see you return safely.” The moment the teasing, affectionate words left my mouth. I felt his body stiffen, and his footsteps halted completely. [Something’s wrong. Extremely wrong.] [Is she… not wearing… a bra…] [‘The warm body temperature and soft touch pressed against Silas’s arm through the thin nightgown fabric. In that instant, he felt all the alcohol kick in. His brain buzzed, and he only wanted to push the woman in front of him to the floor and taste every inch of her skin…’ Bro, stop just thinking about it! Do it!] [The old man never legally married her anyway, what are you worried about!] [Stepmom isn’t doing this on purpose, right?] [Sister above… is she?] [Who cares if it’s on purpose! The mood is set! Silas, go for it ahhhhhhhh!!!] The air was dead silent. I looked at him with eyes full of concern. “Silas, what’s wrong? Your eyes are so red. Do you have a fever?” I reached up to touch his face. Cool fingers met a burning cheek. A hidden shudder ran through Silas, and his eyes grew even redder. “Stepmom, you…” He trailed off, unusually dropping his formal tone. Thrilled, I leaned closer, feigning confusion: “Silas, what did you say? I didn’t catch that.” I was wearing ylang-ylang perfume today. As the distance closed, the seductive scent seemed to intentionally drill into his nose. Silas looked down at me, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. A fierce battle between morality and lust. After what felt like an eternity. Five minutes? Ten? Or just a few seconds. He moved. He pulled his arm from my grasp and stepped back. Under my stunned gaze. He smirked. A polite, formal smile devoid of any emotion. “Apologies, stepmother. I smell like alcohol, I don’t want to bother you. “I’m home now, so you can sleep peacefully. “Goodnight.” He bowed slightly and turned to walk upstairs without hesitation. His suit jacket remained draped over his arm, still hiding something. In the blink of an eye, I was left alone in the massive first floor. I stood there dazed for a few seconds, then violently kicked the stool near my feet. Damn it!!! 06 [Silas, just give the word, and we’ll crown you the new king of self-control.] [This guy’s emotional walls are so high, even the stepmom can’t break in.] [Keep lying to yourself, let’s see how long you last!] [Before, when stepmom ignored you, you cried under your covers at night. Now that she’s close to you, you act like this. Good luck relying on your right hand.] [Don’t be like that, guys. I think the author made it clear early on: ‘Under his father’s twisted upbringing, Silas learned to suppress his true nature. He likes things, but he never hopes to obtain them—toys, food, and even his stepmother.’ He planned to bury this forbidden love forever and play the role of ‘son’. So it’s normal for him to hold back, right? Why call it faking?] [Agreed. It’s all that dead old man’s fault!] [Fine, let him keep holding back! When stepmom goes and pays for a sperm donor, he’ll lose it.] [Ha, so you’re saying stepmom degrading herself to buy a baby daddy is the right thing to do?] [The morals in this comment section are worrying.] [By the way, why did stepmom suddenly change her attitude? Did I miss a chapter?] Some things look simple but are ridiculously hard to execute. At first, I thought: Silas covets me, I covet his… inheritance. Isn’t this a perfect match? If I drop a few hints, wouldn’t he jump at the chance? So I started dropping massive hints. Before, I only pretended to care about him in front of the old man. Now, I was treating him like a fragile egg. Bringing him a coat when it was cold, an umbrella when it rained, pouring his water to exactly 95 degrees Fahrenheit. Silas definitely noticed. But he maintained a strict ‘non-compliance’ policy. You are my elder, how can I trouble you with such trivial matters? Let the maids do it. He always looked so righteous and serious. But above his head, the thirsty comments betrayed him. It was driving me schizophrenic. Fine, maybe I wasn’t being obvious enough. I needed to turn it up a notch. Today, the driver told me Silas was forced to drink a lot at a business dinner. I quickly sent the maids home early, took a scented bath, slipped into a sexy yet innocent slip dress, and waited for him. Late night, drunk, young guy, mature woman… One with wicked thoughts, the other actively seducing. I couldn’t think of a reason for him not to lose control. But… sigh, he really didn’t. Did he train as a monk?! Watching the arguing comments. I felt like I had fallen into a trap. Move forward? Silas was a fortress with no cracks. Retreat? I wasn’t willing. I had a chance to get the whole inheritance. Tsk. But what else could I do? I had used all my tricks. I couldn’t really do what the comments said and pull a “paying for a sperm donor” stunt to provoke— Wait. My gaze sharpened. …Why not?

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I woke up to the piercing cries of an infant. Opening my eyes, I realized I was lying on a hospital bed right next to my mother, who had just given birth to my baby brother. It hit me instantly. I had been reborn, brought back to the exact day the kidnapper swapped my brother. To confirm my suspicion, I peeked toward the sound of the crying. Sure enough, I saw a strange man roughly yanking the engraved gold baby bracelet off my brother’s wrist and slipping it onto the wrist of his own child. Because his movements were so violent, my real brother started wailing at the top of his lungs. The man, his face twisting with impatience, delivered a brutal slap that knocked the infant unconscious. Sensing something, the man suddenly glanced in my direction. I quickly squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep. In my previous life, to stop him from taking my brother, my three-year-old self had desperately clung to the man’s leg. In response, the criminal kicked me so hard I flew into the wall, shattering several of my ribs. Enduring the agonizing pain, I had screamed for help with everything I had, eventually drawing the attention of the nurses. Furious that I had ruined his plan, the criminal pulled out a knife and slashed it deeply across my face. “You ruined my kid’s chance at a good life, so you don’t get to live a good life either,” he had hissed. From that day on, my face was severely disfigured. I spent a long, agonizing time recovering in the hospital. I didn’t even start first grade until I was nine years old, placed in the same class as the brother I had saved. Throughout my school years, my scars made me the target of relentless bullying and mockery. Even my own parents and the very brother I saved looked at me with undisguised disgust. It was as if my mere existence was an unbearable humiliation to them. I had no choice but to study like my life depended on it. I wanted to get into a top-tier university, secure a good job, and escape my family to live my own life. But I never could have imagined what would happen during our senior year. After I successfully secured our high school’s sole early-admission recommendation to an Ivy League university, my brother ran me over with his car. All for the sake of Chloe Evans, a poor student our family had been financially sponsoring. All because he had fallen in love with her. As I lay dying, he stared down at me with pure venom. “Don’t blame me, Lily. Blame yourself for being so selfish. You should have given the Ivy League spot to Chloe.” He even mocked me. “You ugly freak, you deserved to be disfigured. Everything you’ve suffered is exactly what you deserve for how you act.” But I was disfigured because I saved him. What shocked me even more was that when my parents found out what he had done, they didn’t blame him for a single second. Instead, they helped him destroy the evidence and cover up my murder. In those final moments, I swore an oath. If I ever got a second chance, I would respect his fate. I would never play the hero again. Now, lying in the hospital bed, I listened as the heavy footsteps faded down the hall and the door clicked shut. When I opened my eyes again, the criminal was gone. And with him, my biological brother. My mother woke up right at that moment. She asked me, “Lily, was your baby brother just crying?” I tilted my head, flashing a sweet, innocent smile. “Was he? I didn’t hear anything, Mommy.” My mother looked slightly confused. “I must have been dreaming.” A week later, my mother and my new, fake brother—Tyler Harper—were discharged from the hospital. I was enrolled in a local preschool. This time, without the scars, my teachers and classmates were incredibly kind to me. There was no bullying. There was no mockery. No one looked at me like I was a monster. I finally had the peaceful, perfect life I always dreamed of. 02 Time flew by, and ten years passed in the blink of an eye. One weekend, our family went to a crowded street carnival. Suddenly, someone bumped hard into Tyler and snatched his new smartphone. I recognized the thief instantly. It was my biological brother. He looked drastically different from my previous life. He was dark, emaciated, and wearing filthy, oversized clothes. He limped heavily as he ran. It was glaringly obvious that he was living a miserable life. The sight of him brought back a sharp memory from my past life. When he and his friends were mocking my disfigured face, I had finally snapped, screaming that he had no right to treat me like that when I took the blade for him. He had just sneered at me. “I never asked you to save me. Someone as brilliant and capable as me would have thrived even if I was raised in a murderer’s house. Stop trying to guilt-trip me.” Seeing how “brilliantly” he was thriving now, a wave of deep relief washed over me. Seeing my parents about to chase after him, I quickly faked a dramatic trip and fell hard onto the pavement. My real brother looked exactly like my father. If my dad caught a good look at his face, he would undoubtedly get suspicious. Unlike my past life, because I was flawless and at the top of my class, my image-obsessed parents actually valued me. They immediately abandoned the chase and rushed to my side. “Lily! Are you okay?!” I watched my biological brother disappear into the dense crowd, letting out a quiet breath. I looked up at my parents. “I’m fine, my hands just got a little scraped. It hurts a bit.” Meanwhile, my fake brother, Tyler, was absolutely furious about his stolen phone. He cursed loudly, “That piece of trash! If I ever see him again, I swear to God I’ll kill him!” I lowered my eyes and said nothing. The world was a very small place. I needed to make sure I nudged things in the right direction. 03 Tyler spent the rest of the day scanning the crowds like a hawk. When my parents went to the public restrooms, Tyler suddenly grabbed my arm. “Lily, I see that little rat.” Before I could say anything, he shot off like a rocket into the crowd. Seeing my parents hadn’t come out yet, I sighed in relief and jogged after him. This time, because my real brother had his guard down, Tyler easily cornered him in a narrow alleyway. Trapped, my real brother started cursing aggressively. “You filthy rich snobs! You have so much money, why are you being so cheap?! It’s just one phone, why do you have to be so petty?!” His temper was exactly the same as in his previous life. He loved playing the victim and blaming everyone else for his own actions. Tyler let out a dark laugh. “So because we have money, we’re supposed to just let people rob us?” My real brother put on a shameless, defiant smirk. “Alright, shut up. I gave the phone back, so let me go. I’m a minor. The cops can’t do anything to me anyway.” Tyler wasn’t the type to swallow an insult. He inherited his biological father’s reckless, violent temperament. He hated studying and loved picking fights. He kicked my real brother hard in the stomach, slamming him into the brick wall. “What a coincidence. I’m a minor too. As long as I don’t beat you to death, the cops can’t do anything to me either.” Panic finally flashed across my real brother’s face. I watched coldly from the sidelines. Just like he had coldly watched his friends torment me in our past life. Just as Tyler raised his fist to keep hitting him, a young girl sprinted into the alley and threw herself in front of my real brother. “Stop hitting him! Mason’s dad is severely ill! He had no other choice, that’s why he took your phone!” What an absolute, bold-faced lie. Arthur Davies, Mason’s father, had never been severely ill a day in his life. When I got a clear look at the girl’s face, my brow furrowed. What a coincidence. I knew this girl too. It was Chloe Evans—the poor scholarship student from my past life, and the exact reason I was murdered. 04 I wasn’t actually surprised she was here. In my past life, Chloe and my fake brother, Tyler, were childhood sweethearts who grew up together. Now that Mason and Tyler’s identities were swapped, Mason had naturally become Chloe’s childhood sweetheart instead. Tears welled up in Chloe’s eyes as she looked at Tyler pitifully. “I made Mason give your phone back. Please, just let him go. Please?” Tyler was a notorious terror who never listened to anyone. But the moment he saw Chloe crying, he visibly softened. “Alright, fine. Stop crying. I’m not totally unreasonable.” For a second, I felt like I had been pulled back into my previous life. After I won the Ivy League recommendation, Chloe had cried exactly like this to Mason. Mason, acting like a thug, was furious that his precious childhood friend was crying. He rallied a group of his delinquent friends and ordered them to assault me. His excuse was that he needed to “teach me a lesson” so I wouldn’t covet things that didn’t belong to me. I fought back with everything I had, but their filthy hands grabbed at me relentlessly. It wasn’t until one of them ripped the medical mask off my face, exposing my horrific scars, that they backed away in disgust. “What an ugly freak.” “I wouldn’t touch this trash even if you paid me.” “Damn, looking at that face makes me wanna throw up.” My ruined face was the only thing that saved me from being assaulted that day. When I got home, I scrubbed myself in the shower for four straight hours. I scrubbed until my skin was bleeding raw, then collapsed in the tub, sobbing uncontrollably. I thought I had survived the worst of it. But after that, I suffered from severe night terrors. Every time I closed my eyes, I relived that alleyway. The ugly faces, the sickening smell, the slimy hands grabbing at my clothes. Whenever I saw a man on the street, I would tremble and feel violently nauseous. I realized then that the trauma would never, ever pass. It was suffocatingly disgusting. A cold breeze blew through the alley, snapping me back to the present. I couldn’t suppress a violent shudder. Noticing my pale face, Tyler asked casually, “Lily, what’s wrong?” I glanced at him, burying the deep revulsion in my heart. I was about to say I was fine when Chloe suddenly grabbed my sleeve, dropping to her knees. “Sister, are you refusing to let him go? Please, I’m begging you, just let Mason go. He’s already suffered so much.” I stared down at her for a long time. She really hadn’t changed at all. She still loved positioning herself as the helpless victim, using tears to morally blackmail everyone around her. Even Tyler tried to persuade me. “Lily, let’s just drop it.” My expression remained perfectly calm. “I have no interest in fighting with a kid. However, I need to speak to his mother. I need to warn her to discipline her son properly. Right now he’s just a petty thief, but if she keeps letting him run wild, who knows what kind of monster he’ll become.” Hearing that I was going to his mother, the fearless, arrogant Mason finally showed a flicker of genuine terror in his eyes. 05 It didn’t take long to find his current mother, Brenda Davies. She was a solidly built, tough-looking middle-aged woman. The moment she saw Tyler and me, sheer panic flashed across her face. It was incredibly obvious that she knew the truth about the hospital swap. She nervously checked the street behind us. Once she realized we were alone, she forced herself to calm down. “What… what are you doing here?” When I explained why we were there, she let out a massive, visible sigh of relief. “Don’t worry. I will discipline him properly.” The moment she said that, Mason flinched, shrinking into himself. I nodded, making my tone deliberately meaningful. “Your son got extremely lucky today running into me and my brother. If my parents had caught him, they wouldn’t have been so kind. They wouldn’t have let him off easily.” Brenda’s face darkened as the implication hit her. “I understand. I’ll keep a tight leash on him. I promise I won’t let him wander around making a fool of himself anymore.” She grabbed Mason by the collar and violently shoved him into the house, locking the front door behind him. “You sit in there and think about what you’ve done.” After locking him away, she turned to Tyler with a fawning, overly eager smile. “Young man, would you like to come in and sit for a bit? I just bought some fresh fruit, and I have candy inside.” Tyler looked at her with pure disgust. “I’m not going in there. Your house looks filthy.” With that, he turned and started walking away. Brenda looked like she wanted to chase after him to say more, but she ultimately stopped herself. She turned and walked into her house. Within seconds, the muffled sounds of Mason howling in agony echoed from inside. Brenda was taking out all her frustration over Tyler’s rejection directly on Mason. As Tyler and I walked out of the neighborhood, Chloe waved at us from a distance, smiling her sweetest, most innocent smile. “Bye, pretty sister! Bye, handsome boy!” Pretty sister? Hearing that come out of Chloe’s mouth was incredibly ironic. In my past life, when my brother ran me over with his car, she was sitting right there in the passenger seat. As I lay on the pavement, bleeding out and struggling to breathe, she stepped out of the car, leaned down close to my ear, and whispered her final words to me: “Ugly freak, you brought this entirely on yourself. You didn’t listen to Mason’s warnings, so you can just go ahead and die.” Right now, seeing Chloe’s sweet, lingering farewell, Tyler suddenly stopped and turned around, looking like he wanted to run back and talk to her. I grabbed his arm tightly. “Enough. Let’s go. Mom and Dad are going to start panicking if they can’t find us.” In just a few short minutes, Tyler had already developed a crush on Chloe. If I let them interact any further, who knows what kind of psychotic things he would do for her in the future. I had absolutely no intention of watching my past life repeat itself. Tyler reluctantly followed me away. Because of that, he didn’t see the innocent, sweet smile drop completely from Chloe’s face the second we turned our backs. The dark, calculating look in her eyes looked nothing like a harmless little bunny.

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I didn’t expect the jumbotron camera to pan to me. When my face was projected onto the massive screen, Liam’s voice noticeably faltered mid-song. After the concert ended, my phone buzzed with a text message: [What’s wrong? Regretting it now?] I stared at that familiar number, frozen for a long time. In the end, I didn’t reply, simply slipping the phone back into my coat pocket. The notification chimed twice more in rapid succession: [Didn’t you say you’d never settle for someone like me in a million years? Maya Vance?] [It’s too late for regrets anyway. Now I’m the one who looks down on vain gold-diggers like you.] … I didn’t reply. A long time later, my phone pinged again. It was from Liam: [Stop peeping into my life acting like a fan.] I hadn’t booked a hotel. From the stadium where Liam performed back to my apartment, it took nine hours and thirteen minutes, transferring through various trains and buses. So, nine hours and thirteen minutes later, Liam received a text from me: [Liam, I wish you a bright and beautiful future.] After the text sent successfully, I mixed a handful of brightly colored pills into a slice of cake and swallowed it all down. … My suicide attempt failed. The neighbor from the next apartment over came to borrow some salt, found me, and rushed me to the ER. I hadn’t set up an emergency contact, and my phone book didn’t even have a single entry for “Mom” or “Dad.” Desperate, the hospital staff called the last person I had contacted: Liam. When I woke up, Liam was sitting beside me. He was still wearing his concert outfit, the stage makeup only half-wiped off. His glamorous appearance starkly contrasted with the sterile, glaringly white hospital room. Seeing my eyes open, Liam spoke: “You’re awake?” I asked, “Why are you here?” Liam crossed his arms, wearing an expression that said he had already figured it all out: “Drop the act, Maya. Didn’t you tell the hospital to call me?” I lowered my eyes: “I didn’t.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned in closer, saying: “You clearly have so much family, so many relatives and friends. Tell me, Maya, why did the hospital just happen to call the ex-boyfriend you haven’t spoken to in three years? “Faking a suicide is just pathetic. Even if you saw my success and regretted your choices, you could have at least picked a classier way to try and win me back. Maybe then I’d have given you a second glance. But pulling a stunt like this only makes me despise you more.” Liam’s words hammered against my eardrums one by one. My chest tightened painfully, yet I couldn’t utter a single word in my defense. He stood up from the chair, looking down at me. My face was pale from the stomach pumping. His thin lips parted again: “Next time you want to kill yourself, pick a more efficient method. Taking sleeping pills is just a cry for attention. It won’t kill you.” With that, Liam turned and left, seemingly unwilling to spare me another glance. Half my face buried in the pillow, I finally managed to defend myself with one sentence: “It wasn’t sleeping pills.” What kind of pills were they? I didn’t even know myself. I just knew sleeping pills were hard to get a prescription for, and even if I did, the dosage wouldn’t be nearly enough to be lethal. So I just picked the cheapest over-the-counter meds I could find and bought a random assortment. On the way home from the concert, for the first time in over twenty years, I bought myself a beautiful, delicate little cake. The pills were too bitter; I needed something sweet to wash them down. But it was late when I got back, and the bakery only had one chocolate cake left… and it wasn’t sweet at all. My not-so-long life was coming to an end, and I didn’t even get to taste a little sweetness at the very finish line. 02 Liam was photographed at the hospital last night, and rumors started swirling that I was his secret girlfriend. Because it was a hospital, and someone leaked that I had my stomach pumped, plus others claiming they saw me at the concert, the speculation ran wild. Add in the haters spreading fake news, and the rumors quickly escalated into absurdity. Things like, “Liam sleeps with fans and abandons them, driving the girl to suicide out of despair.” Overnight, Liam plummeted from “America’s Boyfriend” to a universally despised scumbag. I looked at the trending topics that refused to drop, pulled out my phone, and called Liam. It rang for a long time before he finally answered: “What do you want?” Liam’s voice was hoarse. He had probably been up all night dealing with the fallout. I gripped the phone tightly: “This is my fault. However you need me to clarify things, I will cooperate.” Liam let out a short, cynical laugh on the other end, ignoring my statement and instead asking: “Maya, did you only call because you feel guilty for causing me trouble?” What else? What other reason could there be? Because I was worried about him? Because I was scared? Scared that after three years, his career and his future would be dragged down by me yet again? I couldn’t say it. After a long silence, Liam finally sighed: “Clarifying this isn’t as simple as you think. Wait for my PR team’s instructions. But Maya, you said it yourself—this whole mess started because of you. So no matter what happens, you have to cooperate, even if it means…” “Means what?” I asked. Liam mumbled for a bit before saying: “Never mind, it’s nothing. Keep your phone on. Send me a message every half hour. Otherwise, if you run off and refuse to take responsibility, who am I supposed to complain to?” I wouldn’t run away. And I certainly wouldn’t refuse to take responsibility. I set an alarm and sent Liam a message every thirty minutes. Sometimes it was a random photo I took, sometimes a punctuation mark, sometimes an emoji. But mostly, I asked him how the situation was going. Liam never replied to any of them. Only when I repeatedly asked him about the situation did he finally send a warning: “Ask that question one more time, and we switch to FaceTime every half hour.” I had no choice but to tirelessly try and find topics to text him about. Occasionally, if I hit on something that interested him, Liam would mercifully reply with a few words. I knew Liam wasn’t doing this because he was afraid I’d run away. He was afraid I’d try to kill myself again. Since he couldn’t physically be there to watch me, he resorted to this clumsy method to keep an eye on me. But… I closed my eyes. The auditory hallucinations were getting worse. The voices in my ears were a chaotic jumble, and my head felt like it was going to split open. But Liam, I tried so hard to eat something, but I kept throwing it all back up. I tried everything, but I just couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. I was constantly plagued by panic, terror, and an overwhelming sadness… Liam, it seemed that all my longing, my guilt, my hopes for you—they were no longer enough to keep me alive. It was too agonizing. Truly, every minute, every second, was unbearable agony. Even eating candy didn’t help. 03 Liam’s manager came to see me. Compared to three years ago, he had put on some weight, a slight beer belly now noticeable. I heard he got married and had a cute little daughter. “Maya,” David set his bulging briefcase down and casually took a seat across from me. “How do you always manage to cause such monumental disasters?” I slid a glass of water toward him and offered a self-deprecating smile: “I guess it’s a special talent of mine.” David ignored my joke and bluntly dumped stacks of cash from his bag onto the table: “This situation is complicated. Given that you attended Liam’s concert right before your suicide attempt, and the hospital called him directly when you were brought in, simply stating you two are just friends won’t cut it. The fans and the public won’t buy it. They’ll just turn on Liam even harder, accusing him of dodging responsibility, which will only make things worse.” I glanced at the piles of cash on the table and asked: “So, how do you plan to resolve this?” David leaned forward, interlacing his fingers: “People have already dug up the fact that you two used to date. So, to protect Liam’s reputation, our only option is to say that after an amicable breakup, you couldn’t let go and attempted suicide to threaten him. Liam only showed up at the hospital to save your life.” David paused, then continued: “But don’t worry, I’m a businessman. I understand the concept of a fair trade. So tell me how much you want, name your price. If this isn’t enough, I can go back and get more. It’s just… Maya…” He suddenly used my first name: “You need to understand, three years ago, you almost ruined Liam once. He endured a lot to get to where he is today. He absolutely cannot be ruined by you a second time.” David left, leaving behind a massive pile of money that would last me a very long time. I agreed to cooperate with the clarification. I told everyone that I was the one who couldn’t let go, that I was the one who used suicide as a threat. Even though I was immediately bombarded with hate from his fans the moment the statement went live, I didn’t feel wronged. After all, this incident was entirely my fault, and Liam was innocently dragged into it. Besides, I was also helping myself. If I attempted suicide again right after clarifying, and I survived, fine. But if I died, people would undoubtedly blame Liam again. So I couldn’t die just yet. Even if it was just for him, I had to hold on a little longer. I looked at the photo of Liam and me hidden in the back of my phone case and smiled. I finally found a reason to keep living. 04 Liam and I, we had an amicable breakup back then. At least, that’s what I thought. But Liam always insisted that I dumped him. I hated the word “dumped.” It made it sound like there was a winner and a loser in a breakup. At the time, I just felt we weren’t a good match, so I told him: “Liam, we need to stop seeing each other.” What did Liam say back then? He said over the phone: “Maya, if you don’t want to hear about a specific topic, you say ‘stop talking about this,’ not ‘stop seeing each other.’ You’re a journalism major, how is your English worse than mine?” I fell silent for a moment. “Liam, what I mean is, we need to break up!” “You want to get married? Sure, but I’m not of legal age yet…” “Liam, I know you understand what I’m saying. Let’s break up. Don’t contact me anymore.” Everyone thought I was being dramatic. Giving up a perfect boyfriend like Liam and insisting on a breakup. What, did I think I was in a soap opera? Playing the whole “forced separation, he chases, she runs” trope? When we were together, Liam was already making a name for himself in the entertainment industry. With his incredible singing and dancing skills, coupled with his striking looks, his popularity was skyrocketing. His future looked incredibly bright, but it was almost dragged down by me. After my dad had an accident and fell into a coma, my mom didn’t want to deal with it. She dumped the entire mess on me and ran off to fool around. I hadn’t seen her in ages until one day, a man showed up at our door claiming my mom stole his money and demanding we pay it back. I didn’t know if he was telling the truth. Besides, the amount he mentioned was massive. Between going to school and taking care of my dad, the money I made from part-time jobs barely covered our basic living expenses. Even if it was true, there was no way I could pay it back. One time, he showed up drunk to harass me again, and Liam saw him. To protect me, Liam got into a physical fight with him. Liam’s parents were wealthy business owners, well-known in the area. Plus, Liam himself was frequently on TV and social media. The man recognized Liam and decided to target him instead. So, by the next morning, the internet was flooded with news: Liam’s girlfriend leverages his status to avoid paying debts; Liam aids and abets her by getting into street brawls. During a crucial turning point in Liam’s career, I had brought him trouble—a massive problem. Liam’s team had to burn through a ton of money just to suppress the story’s traction. After the incident blew up, Liam’s manager, David, came to me. He told me that my mom didn’t owe that man any money at all. The man was maliciously extorting us. However, they had no concrete proof. To clear everything up, my mom would have to publicly state that she had no financial ties to him. “Furthermore,” David looked up at me: “There’s something I need you to understand. If you and Liam are not a couple, then in this scenario, he’s simply an innocent bystander who saw someone being bullied and stepped in to help.” How could I not understand what David was implying? Liam had a brilliant future ahead of him, and that future was almost destroyed by my hands. So that night, I told Liam: “Liam, we need to stop seeing each other.” After the breakup, I went to find my mom, begging her to step forward and clear the air. Instead, she cursed me out, yelling at me for finding a rich boyfriend and not telling her, while she had to suffer in poverty every day. That’s when I realized she knew everything that man was doing. She was even the one who suggested exposing the story to manipulate public opinion, all to extort a lump sum of cash from Liam. “You want me to clear his name? Fine. Aren’t you two together? Go tell that Hayes kid to cough up a million dollars. Five hundred thousand for the statement, and another five hundred thousand for your dowry. Not a penny less.” That night, after being kicked out by my mom, I walked home alone. The late autumn night was freezing, so cold my entire body shivered. A million dollars? After I almost destroyed Liam’s career, was I supposed to shamelessly ask him for a million dollars? 05 That very night, Liam booked a red-eye flight back. When he arrived, I was at the hospital, sitting by my dad’s bed. Liam found me, looking miserably at my dad, who had been in a vegetative state for three years. Then he asked the most melodramatic question ever: “Did my mom demand this? Is this the classic ‘here’s half a million, leave my son’ scenario?” I sweatdropped. I couldn’t blame him; he’d been acting in too many soap operas. … “Liam, you see it yourself. We’re not from the same world. Dating someone like you is just too exhausting for me. “I always have to walk on eggshells, terrified someone will find out about us, terrified it’ll ruin your image. I can’t even contact you most of the time because it might interfere with your work. “I have to work myself to the bone just to try and close the gap between us, just so people won’t think I’m a gold-digger who doesn’t deserve you. “It’s too exhausting, Liam. Every single day is exhausting. “I don’t want this life. I just want an ordinary, quiet life. Do you understand? You can’t give up your career, your dreams. And even if you did, you’re still a rich kid from a completely different background. The quiet life I want is something you can never give me.” In that hospital room, Liam kept his head down and remained silent for a long time. I gripped the corner of my dad’s blanket, biting my lip so hard I almost bled, just to stop the tears from falling. I don’t know how much time passed before Liam finally spoke: “But Maya, you’re not in this relationship alone. A breakup involves two people, and I don’t agree. “The things you mentioned… I might need some time to give you a proper answer, but we have to try and find a way to fix this together, don’t we? You can’t… you can’t just run into a problem and immediately decide to give up on me. That’s not fair to me.” I don’t clearly remember what happened next. My memory has been failing me lately, and everything in my head feels foggy and chaotic. I probably said a lot of awful things. I remember saying: “Liam, other than relying on the privileges your parents handed you, what else can you do? People like me at the bottom scrape by just to survive, but you were born with things we could work our whole lives and never achieve.” I told him: “Liam, for the rest of my life, the kind of people I despise the most are rich kids like you, hiding behind your parents like parasites.” In my memory, the only tangible, real thing left of Liam is the sight of his back as he slammed the door and walked away. For three years after that day, I never saw him again. … After Liam left, I issued a public statement clarifying that Liam and I were just friends. Regardless of whether I owed anyone money, it had nothing to do with him. He was merely an innocent bystander who stepped in to help. Once the statement was out, the scandal finally died down. But my mom and that man, failing to get the money they wanted, started harassing me constantly. I had no energy to deal with them, but I also had no way out—I couldn’t just abandon my bedridden father. Those three years were hell. Life was a grueling struggle. Just surviving, trying to find a moment of happiness, or even just eating a decent meal or getting a good night’s sleep became an impossible task for me. I knew I was sick. I felt it deep down, but I never had the courage to go to the hospital. I avoided doctors because my dad needed me. I couldn’t afford to collapse. Half a month ago, after clinging to life for four years, my dad slowly stopped breathing. After arranging his funeral, I grabbed my meager belongings and finally left that city. I went to see a doctor. They said my condition was already severe and required medication. If that didn’t work, I might need Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT). I didn’t take the meds, nor did I undergo any therapy. I had completely lost the will to live. I just wanted to see Liam one last time before the end. I took out all the money I had saved from scrimping and scraping over the years and bought a ticket to Liam’s concert from a scalper. I also bought a really nice, expensive outfit and did my makeup. I just wanted to look at him from afar. I never expected the camera to find me. And so, after three years, I brought trouble to Liam once again. 06 After I posted the clarification, the internet erupted with hate directed at me, but I didn’t care. I had quit my job a long time ago. I locked myself in my apartment, surviving on delivery food and sleeping pills day after day. But honestly, I couldn’t keep much down. I had no appetite. Even if I forced myself to swallow some soup, I’d throw it right back up. Still, I stubbornly set three alarms every day to force myself to eat on schedule. I needed to stay alive a little longer, otherwise, the mob’s fury would pivot back to Liam. Let’s say a hundred days. I gave myself a deadline. Liam, whatever I owe you, I’ll pay it back with these hundred days of my life. … When Liam showed up at my door, fully disguised in a mask and cap, I was sitting alone on the sofa, staring into space. The apartment was terrifyingly quiet. The rhythmic knocking on the door felt like a lifeline, snapping me out of my crushing loneliness. “Maya, why did you say those things online?” I smiled at him, reached over, and pulled open all the drawers in the coffee table. Inside were neat stacks of cash. The scene looked like a shady underworld transaction, as if the command to “move in” was about to crackle through a hidden earpiece. Liam stared at me, bewildered. “What is the meaning of this?” I shrugged: “Exactly what it looks like. Taking someone’s money to solve their problems, that’s all.” Liam’s face darkened. He didn’t speak for a long time. Then, inappropriately, my phone alarm went off—it was time for dinner. I silenced the alarm and looked up at his face, now free of the mask. A face without a trace of makeup, yet still breathtakingly handsome. I suddenly spoke: “Liam, have you eaten? If not, let’s eat together.” Liam abruptly stood up, anger blazing across his face: “Maya, what… what do you take me for?” I didn’t look up, pursing my lips in thought for a moment: “For… a dinner buddy.” Liam ultimately didn’t leave. He stayed, his expression cold. All his anger hit me like punches landing on cotton. I didn’t fight back; he said his piece, and I said mine. Liam paced the living room in furious circles until he got tired, then started nitpicking: “Why did you put so many chili peppers in this?! Did you do it on purpose?! Don’t you know I need to protect my vocal cords?” Liam yelled from the living room, and I answered from the kitchen: “I only put one tiny tip in, just for flavor.” “You put way too much water in the rice, are you making porridge?” “Is it too much? Doesn’t look like it. Whatever, think of it like a blind box. It adds to the suspense.” “Why is this plate so ugly?” “It came free with some yogurt.” “Why are you peeling the apple so thick?” “Bought them on sale.” “Why is there a chip on the rim of this bowl?” “It fell on the floor and only a tiny piece chipped off. I named it ‘Survivor.’” “The cartoon on your apron is so childish. What kind of taste is that?” “That’s a chibi caricature of a certain artist named Liam.” “…” Liam stopped talking. The soup in the pot bubbled and gurgled, seemingly echoing the rhythm of someone’s heartbeat. A long time later, Liam’s voice drifted in softly: “Maya… why did you try to commit suicide?” I lifted my head from the cloud of steam and met Liam’s eyes, which could never quite hide his emotions: “Liam, if you buy me a cake, I’ll tell you. But it has to be sweet.” However, that night, we didn’t end up eating dinner together, and I didn’t get to eat the cake Liam bought.

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In the heat of our intimacy, Mary felt entirely different from my memories. The overwhelming intensity of it made me lose control, a muffled groan escaping my lips. Right at that moment, Mary let out a sudden, chilling laugh. It made my stomach drop. She tapped her manicured fingernails against the mattress beneath us, her tone dripping with dark amusement. “How does it feel? I just finished taking care of your stepbrother. He said he really loves how I am right now.” “He was in this exact bed yesterday.” She paused, making no effort to hide the absolute contempt in her eyes. “He moaned so beautifully. I figured it would have the same effect on you.” I froze instantly. The blood in my veins turned to ice. My mind went entirely blank, stripping away my ability to form a single rational thought. Seeing my paralyzed state, Mary rolled her eyes, looking bored. she pushed herself off the bed. “William, Bruno has such a gorgeous body. Not a single blemish.” She looked me up and down, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. “You two brothers are worlds apart. Looking at you covered in those hideous burns… it makes me sick to my stomach.” “Just now, I had to keep my eyes squeezed shut. I had to pretend you were him just to force myself to finish.” 1 I opened my mouth, but my vocal cords refused to work. I still remembered every agonizing detail of the fire five years ago. The Sinclair family estate had caught fire in the dead of night. Mary was trapped on the third floor. I charged into the inferno, desperate to find her. When a burning ceiling beam collapsed, I shoved her out of the way, taking the full brunt of the collapse myself. Sixty percent of my body was burned. I lay in the ICU for three months, enduring seventeen grueling skin graft surgeries. They managed to drag me back from the brink of death, but they couldn’t take away the monstrous scars. They crawled over my flesh like ugly, thick centipedes, creeping from my chest down to my waist, wrapping around my arms and thighs. The trauma plunged me into severe depression. Countless times, I stood by the window, ready to jump and end it all. And every single time, it was Mary who pulled me back from the ledge. She would hold me, her eyes red with tears, swearing to the heavens that she would never betray me. “William, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” My voice came out as a broken rasp as I clenched my fists. “Mary… you promised me. You swore you would cherish me forever.” Mary lazily tossed a silk robe in my direction. “William, you wouldn’t even buy secondhand clothes. What gives you the right to demand that I cherish someone whose body is a ruined, charred mess?” My knuckles turned white. “Then why the hell did you propose to me in the first place!” I roared. She slipped into her custom tailored blazer, a flash of irritation crossing her features. “Back then, I honestly thought I could handle it. But every time we get physical, seeing those scars just grosses me out.” “You are just too ugly now, William. I can’t stomach it anymore.” My jaw locked. My chest heaved with ragged breaths. Mary habitually held out a handkerchief for me, but I jerked my head away, refusing it. “But I do love you, William. I will always be grateful to you,” she said, smoothing her lapels. “I just needed to blow off some steam. Give me some time to get used to it.” I smacked her hand away violently. “No. That is twisted. Mary, I sacrificed myself to save your life… and you stabbed me in the back!” Her phone screen lit up on the nightstand. I caught a glimpse of Bruno’s text message. “I put on those wolf ears you like. Are you seriously not coming over?” Mary buttoned her jacket and casually waved the phone in my direction. “If I keep him waiting, he is going to throw a tantrum.” I vaulted off the bed, my eyes burning with rage, and slapped her hard across the face. “You are disgusting. This is sick. We are getting a divorce!” Mary touched her stinging cheek, the temperature in the room plummeting as her expression turned lethal. “I am disgusting? William, I did not call you disgusting when you were nothing but rotting, burnt meat.” “And a divorce? Look at yourself. Who else would ever be desperate enough to marry a freak like you?” The bedroom door slammed shut. Inside my chest, something vital shattered completely. Through the haze of my own devastation, memories bled into my mind. I remembered my mother cheating, bringing some random guy into our home, which pushed my father to suicide. After that, I was trapped, endlessly bullied by my new stepdad and his golden boy, Bruno. It was Mary who pulled me out of that hellhole. She helped me reclaim my dad’s belongings. She stood like a shield between me and the cruel world. She gave me the fierce, unconditional love that my father had meant to give me. A house, cars, custom watches, even cooking my favorite meals. She told me she was nothing like my mother. She swore she would only ever look at me. Right up until I turned twenty-four, when she planned a beautiful beachside proposal. I was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. But on my way to meet her, the Sinclair estate went up in flames. I ran in to save her and got crushed beneath the burning wood. When the fire crews finally dug me out of the ashes, the only things left to keep me company were the burns and the scars. Mary had dropped to her knees in the soot, her tears splashing onto my ruined face. “William, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” The nightmare ended there. I was jolted awake by a phone call. It was Bruno. “Bro, Mary and I are going at it right now. Wanna listen? It is the prize I won.” 2 The obscene, wet sounds echoing through the speaker felt like icepicks in my eardrums. Mary’s breathless, erratic voice drifted through the line. “I made a bet with Bruno. We wanted to see what you would do when you found out about us.” “I bet you would swallow your pride and take it. He bet you would ask for a divorce.” “I won, so he had to wear the outfit I like. But he also won… because now you know.” “Sorry about that. I guess I just did not expect you to actually bring up the D-word.” My grip on the phone tightened until the plastic creaked. I hung up. But the notifications didn’t stop. They kept pinging, one after another. A relentless stream of highly explicit photos flooded my screen. “During those two years when your depression was at its worst, when you wanted to die every day?” Bruno texted. “She was sleeping with me the whole time she was playing nurse with you.” “She said the only way she could forget your grotesque scars was by letting me wreck her.” Word by word, the messages butchered my heart. I yanked open the nightstand drawer with trembling hands. I didn’t care if they were my antidepressants or sleeping pills. I grabbed handfuls of them and shoved them into my mouth. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me. They had pumped my stomach. The door pushed open. Mary walked in. I stared at her, totally hollowed out. “Mary, I want a divorce.” She pulled out a slim cigarette, lighting it with utter indifference. “Request denied. I admit I took it too far last night, and I am sorry.” “But you love me so much. Surely… you can understand the pressure I am under?” I stared at her through the haze of medication, and suddenly, the ugly truth clicked into place. She wasn’t looking for an escape. She genuinely believed that staying with me was a grand, tragic sacrifice on her part. She felt wronged by my ugliness, so she decided she had the right to punish me for it. Even though I looked like this because I saved her life. Mary walked out. She stopped visiting. She ignored my texts. Instead, Bruno started messaging me. “Hey bro, Mary let me move into your house while you’re stuck in the hospital.” “We broke your bed. She said she’s never had it this good in this house.” “Oh, by the way, do your gross scars flare up around pets? Mary bought me a puppy…” That final text detonated whatever sanity I had left. I took the explicit photos and chat logs and leaked them to the press. I even dragged myself to the offices of Mary’s top clients, desperately trying to force her hand to sign the divorce papers. But the real world gave me a brutal reality check. The Sinclair family was a titan in the corporate world. No media outlet dared to run the story. Her clients, eager to kiss her feet, immediately pulled their funding from the research lab where I worked. They blacklisted me. My lab director cornered me, demanding I apologize to Mary immediately, or I would be fired and blacklisted from the scientific community forever. My colleagues begged me with tears in their eyes. If I didn’t grovel, the lab would shut down, and they would all lose their livelihoods. I became a walking punchline. Mary was the one who cheated, but I was the one forced to swallow glass and apologize. I dragged my broken body back to the Sinclair mansion. The words “I’m sorry” barely left my lips before Mary shot me a look of freezing disdain. “William, did you really think you could throw a tantrum and force a divorce?” “Divorce hurts my feelings. Don’t throw that word around.” Maybe it was to teach me a lesson. Or maybe she resented how deeply she had once cared for me. But she took the very first gift she ever gave me, and she handed it to Bruno. It was an ancient, black obsidian binding stone. Once Bruno fully infiltrated my life, I lost everything. My father’s life, my mother’s love, my bedroom, my clothes, my career prospects. Bruno stole it all. Years ago, right after I was kicked out of my house, delirious with a fever, I had rested my head on Mary’s shoulder and asked her in a broken whisper: “Why can’t I ever keep the things that belong to me?” Mary had climbed three thousand stone steps at a highland monastery, scraping her knees bloody, just to get that obsidian stone for me. She had told me: “I got this to bind my soul to yours. Even if you lose everything else in the world, I will always belong to you.” I had clenched my jaw back then, fighting back tears, stupidly believing she was mine forever. Now, she had violently ripped her heart in two, feeding half of it to Bruno. And that obsidian stone was currently hanging around Bruno’s neck. 3 “It is just a cheap trinket. What is the big deal if I give it to him?” “After all these years… haven’t I given you enough?” She was doing it on purpose. She knew exactly where to insert the knife to make it hurt the most. No amount of medication could numb the agony ripping through my brain. If I just disappeared, everything would be fine. My hands moved on their own, dragging a blade across my wrist. Five years ago, right after the accident, I used to do this. But back then, for every cut I made on my arm, Mary would take a knife and match it on her own skin. “William, if you don’t want to live in this world, then I am leaving it with you.” She had physically dragged me out of that suicidal pit. But this time, as I lay bleeding out onto the bathroom tiles, she never showed up. A housekeeper found me, screaming in terror as she called Mary. Mary didn’t bother coming home until the sun was up. She crouched beside me, letting out an annoyed sigh as she looked at my heavily bandaged arm. “You didn’t die when you were roasted alive, and you haven’t managed to die after all these pathetic attempts. If you were really going to die, you would be dead by now.” “If you keep throwing these childish tantrums, I am going to have you locked in a psych ward.” With one sentence, the fragile peace I had scraped together shattered again. As soon as she left, I picked up a fresh blade, pressing it right against my carotid artery. But as I raised my hand, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I couldn’t find a single trace of the boy I used to be. The old William was a prodigy, headhunted by a world-renowned lab in his early twenties. He was brilliant, ambitious, and unstoppable. Look at me now. I was gaunt. Hollowed out. A dead, rotting tree. The burn scars practically glowed a sickly, angry pink under the bathroom lights. The uneven, raised tissue looked like a hundred little mouths laughing at me. Hideous. I was a monster. I dropped the blade, my jaw trembling, my throat tight. That wasn’t me in the mirror. It couldn’t be. I wanted to get better. I really did. I forced myself to cooperate with my doctors. I swallowed my pills. I even contacted a lawyer to quietly draft divorce papers. For a little while, my mood genuinely stabilized. The suicidal urges faded to a dull hum. Until Bruno’s birthday rolled around. Mary insisted on taking me out to “clear my head.” “Your depression is acting up because you rot in that room all day. You need fresh air.” But when we arrived, I realized Mary had rented out an entire seaside amusement park just for Bruno. Exactly like she had done for me when she proposed. She brought me here purely to rub my face in it. And her birthday gift to Bruno was a very familiar ring. I didn’t even realize she had taken my custom blue diamond engagement ring off my dresser. My stomach cramped so violently I doubled over in physical pain. When Mary proposed to me, it was during the darkest year of my depression. I used to push her away, telling her with dead eyes that I was a freak and she should leave me. She had flown across the globe. She spent a fortune tracking down the purest blue diamond in existence, and she dropped to one knee right in front of me. “No matter what you look like, to me, you are just like this diamond. Flawless.” Now, she had taken that diamond and resized the band to fit Bruno’s finger. Right in front of my eyes, she slid the ring onto his hand. “A diamond this pure belongs on the finger of the most pristine person I know.” The mental dam I had built over the last few weeks violently collapsed. A strange, whispering voice slithered into my ear. “You are so filthy. You don’t deserve to breathe.” “Go find that blade. Put it against your throat. Do it.” My hands started shaking uncontrollably. After putting the ring on Bruno, Mary walked over and grabbed my arm. “Does it hurt? Is it eating you alive?” she whispered dangerously. “Because every time I look at what that fire did to you, every time I see the monster you became, it eats me alive.” So this was her twisted logic. She had to lavish someone else with love, just to watch me suffer the exact same pain she felt. But I couldn’t hear her anymore. All I wanted was to find a knife. Just one quick thrust, and all this noise would stop. Right as the panic attack peaked, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was my lawyer. “Mr. Bennett, the divorce agreement is finalized.” “I wish you the best of luck. Here is to your new life.” 4 Divorce. New life. Those words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I violently yanked my arm out of Mary’s grip. I ignored her shouting my name as I bolted. I ran so fast my shoe flew off, but I didn’t stop. I drove through the night to pick up the printed papers, and I slammed them onto the table right in front of Mary. “We are getting a divorce. You can keep the assets.” Staring at the legal document, Mary finally realized this wasn’t a bluff. Her eyes locked onto mine, dark and searching. “You seriously want a divorce?” I nodded, my posture rigid. Surprisingly, she didn’t tear the papers up. She looked down and let out a soft, mocking chuckle. “Fine. We can divorce. But you will come crawling back.” “Because you have absolutely no one else in this world… but me.” I acted like I didn’t hear her. I packed my bags at lightning speed and walked out of that mansion. I thought the nightmare was finally over. Until a few days later, walking home from a job interview. My phone blew up with a trending notification. #WilliamBennettScars A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. With trembling fingers, I clicked the hashtag. It was a flood of photos and videos from the immediate aftermath of the fire. Photos of me lying in the sterile hospital bed, my skin charred black, my body covered in raw, bloody skin grafts. It was grotesque. When I arrived at the research lab to clear out my desk, the entrance was swarming with reporters. They used to interview me about my breakthroughs in biochemistry. Now, they shoved microphones into my face, their eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity. “Dr. Bennett, are the rumors about your severe burns true?” “We heard you have sixty percent burn coverage. Are the scars as terrifying as people say?” “Your wife allegedly cheated on you because she was repulsed by your body. Care to comment?” I felt like someone was strangling me. Black spots danced in my vision. Security had to physically drag me inside. My phone vibrated violently. I was the victim of that fire, yet the top comments online were pure venom. “You can’t even tell from his face! He dresses so sharp. Bet he set the fire himself for insurance money and failed.” “A grown man covered in scars like a horror movie monster? No wonder his wife cheated. Gross!” “He always acts so arrogant in his interviews. Doesn’t act like a trauma victim to me.” “Nine out of ten burn victims did it to themselves by being stupid, and then they blame their wives for leaving them. Pathetic!” My mother, who hadn’t spoken to me in years, called me just to verbally sever our ties. “William, you are an absolute embarrassment. Don’t you ever tell anyone you are my son!” The final email was from the lab’s board of directors. “Dr. Bennett, the current media circus surrounding your personal life is damaging the lab’s reputation. Your employment is terminated immediately.” My nails dug into my palms until they bled. The endless stream of hatred dragged me right back into the inferno. I could feel the crushing weight of the burning beams on my chest again. The blistering heat. The absolute agony. I hid in the lab until nightfall, waiting for the vultures to leave. But when I finally hailed a cab, the driver took one look at my face and the name on his app, and stopped the car. “Wait… are you that burnt freak from the news?” “Get the hell out! Don’t infect my car with your ugly ass!” He shoved me out onto the pavement and threw his half-empty glass bottle at me. It struck my forehead, shattering. I collapsed onto the concrete, warm blood trailing down the side of my face. I don’t even remember how I ended up back at Mary’s mansion. She was sitting on the living room sofa, swirling a glass of wine, as if she had been waiting for me. I stared at her, my eyes dead. “You did this?” Mary smiled. “William, look at reality. I told you, I am the only person who can tolerate you.” “If we actually divorce, the rest of the world will eat you alive.” A wave of pure, suffocating despair crashed over me. I opened my mouth, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. From the upstairs bathroom, Bruno’s voice echoed loudly. “I’m all clean! You can do whatever you want to me tonight.” He leaned over the balcony railing, a towel draped loosely around his waist, his chest covered in fresh hickeys. I grabbed the wall, hunching over as my stomach violently rejected everything in it, dry-heaving until my ribs cracked. Mary watched me vomit, her fists clenching momentarily before she forced a cruel laugh. “After the amusement park, I was actually going to call it even. But now… I think you need another reminder of your place.” She stood up, walking upstairs and wrapping her arms possessively around Bruno’s waist. The sprawling, empty mansion amplified the sounds of wet kissing and heavy moans. “You’re being so loud. Do you want your brother to hear us? You’re so bad…” Bruno teased. “Let him hear. It is not his first time.” The grotesque sounds clawed their way into my brain. I clamped my hands over my ears, pressing until it hurt. But the room started to spin. The voices melted together into a demonic choir. “You are so filthy…” “Nobody will ever want you…” Nobody. I couldn’t save myself. Through the blur of my tears, I saw my father. He had been dead for over a decade, but he was standing there, waving at me. “William, come here… Daddy loves you. Daddy will protect you…” I reached out to take his hand. I followed him, walking like a ghost. He led me all the way up to the third-floor balcony, right to the edge. “Come to me, William. There is no more pain here…” I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself forward into his embrace. As gravity pulled me over the railing, I saw Mary burst out onto the second-floor balcony. Her eyes were wide with primal terror. “William! NO!”

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1 I always thought I couldn’t dream. Then one day, my husband brought me a tonic to calm my nerves. I drank it and dreamed for the first time. In the dream, his struggling company made a miraculous comeback, becoming an industry leader. Days later, it came true. But joy was brief. A sudden car accident left my legs paralyzed. When pain kept me awake, he brought the tonic again. I dreamed a second time: my son, who always struggled in school, aced the entrance exam and got into a top university. Days later, he ranked first in the state. At that same moment, I was diagnosed with acute liver necrosis. Half my liver was removed. After surgery, my husband held my hand, crying, “Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you.” Then he brought another bowl of the tonic. I trembled, trying to push it away. But he pried my mouth open and poured it in. “Be good, Mindy. It’s a family recipe—a painkiller. Drink, and the pain will go.” My consciousness faded into a third dream: my father-in-law, dying of cancer, fully recovered. I woke with a jolt, a metallic taste in my throat. My heart stopped. I died instantly. Then I opened my eyes—back to the day he first handed me that bowl of tonic. … My husband, Joey, came from a long line of herbalists, and the Dream-Soothing Tonic was his family’s secret recipe. He’d recently improved the formula, claiming it not only helped you sleep more soundly but also guaranteed beautiful dreams. As I stared at the bowl, its unique herbal aroma filling the air, goosebumps erupted on my skin. In my past life, driven by curiosity about the dreams I could never have, I had drunk Joey’s tonic. And just as he’d promised, I had a beautiful dream. Not only that, but the dream came true. But I never imagined the price for making my dreams a reality was my own life. Joey carefully blew on the spoonful of hot liquid. “Honey, you said you wanted to know what it’s like to dream. Come on, try it!” “I even added some honey, so it tastes great and works even better!” I scooted back on the bed, away from the proffered spoon. “You know, I think I’m fine without dreams. Every medicine has its side effects. I think I’ll pass.” He persistently pushed the spoon toward my lips. “These are all restorative herbs. I promise, there are no side effects.” I pressed my lips together, refusing to drink. Clatter! The spoon clattered back into the bowl. Joey’s face darkened. “Mindy, don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m trying to hurt you?” His voice was tight with suppressed anger. If I provoked him further, I knew he would do the same thing he did in my past life—pry my mouth open and force it down my throat. I stared at the murky green, life-draining liquid and clutched my stomach. “Of course not! It’s just… my stomach is acting up. I don’t feel like eating anything.” Joey hesitated. He was about to say something else, but I curled up on the bed, feigning a wave of pain. He had no choice but to take the tonic and leave. “Alright, you get some rest. If it’s really bad, we’ll go to the hospital.” I let out a long breath. I had dodged a bullet. A few minutes later, Joey returned with a packet of stomach medicine. “Feeling any better? Take this, it’ll help.” I sat up immediately. “Much better! I don’t need it.” I couldn’t risk taking anything he gave me. He didn’t force me this time. He helped me out of bed. “Well, come have dinner then. Mom made her special chicken soup to soothe your stomach.” I had no reason to refuse. I went to the dining table. My mother-in-law ladled a huge bowl of soup for me. The broth was fragrant and clear, dotted with vibrant green scallions. It looked delicious. It seemed to have nothing to do with the murky green tonic. My son, Leo, quickly downed two bowls. My mother-in-law put a drumstick in my bowl. “Go on, Mindy, eat up! You always loved my chicken soup. It’ll get cold if you wait!” The whole family was eating heartily, paying no attention to me. I cautiously took a sip. If everyone is eating it, it must be fine, I thought. I can’t just stop eating forever. I forced down a few bites and left the table. I thought that by avoiding the tonic, I had avoided my fate. But as soon as I fell asleep, I started dreaming again. 2 Just like in my past life, I dreamt that Joey’s failing company landed a massive contract, rocketing to the top of the industry. I woke up in a cold sweat. I felt no joy, because I knew that Joey’s success was meant to be paid for with my legs. Seeing me awake, Joey asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Did you have a dream?” I stared at him suspiciously. “Did you give me the tonic?” He shook his head, his face a mask of innocence. “Of course not. You said you didn’t want it.” I racked my brain. I truly hadn’t consumed anything suspicious. Could it all be a coincidence? Was the tonic unrelated? Joey stroked my head, his voice full of sympathy. “Is your stomach still bothering you? If you’re not feeling well, just take the day off work.” The memory of being crippled made me shiver. I took a week off. I decided I wouldn’t set foot outside my house. That way, there was no chance of a car hitting me. After Joey left, I went to the fridge and took out the leftover chicken soup from last night. When I lifted the lid of the clay pot, my pupils constricted. At the very bottom was a pile of familiar herbs. No wonder I’d dreamed again. The chicken soup had been brewed with the tonic’s ingredients! But why, if the whole family drank it, was I the only one paying the price? I collected the herbs from the pot and sent them to a lab for analysis. I was going to find out what was so special about that tonic. Before the results came back, I got a call from Joey. His voice was electric with excitement. “Honey, I landed a huge contract! The company’s fortunes are turning around!” My breath caught in my throat. In my past life, I had received this same call on my way home from work. And then the accident happened. Thank God I was at home this time. There was no way I could get into a car accident here. But a few moments later, a message popped up in the parent-teacher group chat from my son’s homeroom teacher. “The school bus has broken down. Parents, please come pick up your children after school today.” School ended in two hours. I had a terrible feeling that the moment I stepped outside, I would be hit by a car. I couldn’t go. My son was an adult now. He could surely make his own way home. I decided to let him. But two hours later, a torrential downpour began. Leo called me. “Mom, where are you? The rain is insane, and I can’t get a cab!” I told Joey to go pick him up. But he claimed he was in a critical meeting and couldn’t leave. Leo’s calls kept coming, one after another, as the storm raged on. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to force me out of the house. In a flash of inspiration, I remembered that his teacher lived in the building across from ours. I quickly called her and begged her to walk Leo home. She readily agreed. Soon, I heard a knock at the door. “Mom, open up! I’m home!” Relief washed over me. I stood up to let him in. But as I took my first step, a hard object tripped me. The world spun, and I crashed heavily onto the floor. Before I lost consciousness, I saw what had tripped me. It was my son’s remote-control car. 3 I woke up in a hospital room. Joey sat by my bed, his eyes red-rimmed. I couldn’t feel my legs. I never would have imagined that a toy car could leave me paralyzed. Was there truly no escape from the tonic’s curse? Joey’s voice cracked as he tried to comfort me. “Don’t be sad, honey. I’m rich now. I can take care of you for the rest of your life!” He held out another bowl of the tonic. “You must be in so much pain. This will help. Drink it, and the pain will go away.” I swiped the bowl from his hands, sending it crashing to the floor. I screamed, not caring who heard. “Your company’s success was bought with my legs! And you still want me to drink this poison?” Joey looked bewildered. “Mindy, what are you talking about? How could one be exchanged for the other? What does this have to do with the tonic?” A notification pinged on my phone. The lab results were in. I laughed coldly. “If it has nothing to do with it, why did you put the tonic’s herbs in the chicken soup? Don’t even try to deny it. I have the lab report right here. I’m calling the police!” Joey looked utterly baffled. “Those herbs were just for flavor! They’re not poisonous! The whole family drank the soup. No one is trying to hurt you. Why would you call the police?” I wasn’t listening. I opened the report. And then I stared, dumbfounded. The report stated that the herbs were not only harmless but were actually high-quality, beneficial supplements. How could that be? If there was nothing wrong with the tonic, why was Joey so insistent that I drink it? And why did I, a person who never dreams, suddenly start dreaming after drinking it? Maybe the herbs in the soup were an incomplete formula? Seeing my silence, Joey picked up the bowl from the floor, scooped up some of the spilled liquid, and drank it himself. “See, Mindy? The tonic is perfectly fine. I drank it, and nothing happened. Why would I ever hurt you?” I was completely lost. Even if the soup was an incomplete version, what he just drank was the real deal. He’d done it without a second’s hesitation. Joey set the bowl down. “I understand you’re having a hard time accepting this, and you’re suspicious of everything. How about this: for a while, just order takeout. Focus on getting better and try not to overthink things.” I lay back on the bed, feeling defeated. But I still didn’t believe the tonic was harmless. I collected the residue from the shattered bowl. This time, I sent it to a well-known psychic. Leo’s college entrance exams were over. It was only a few days until the date I’d lost my liver in my past life. I couldn’t let my guard down. I ate only one meal a day, prepared and delivered by my own mother. But two hours before the exam results were to be announced, I unexpectedly fell asleep. I dreamed that my son, who had always been at the bottom of his class, scored a 690. I was shaken awake by Leo himself. “Mom! I got a 690!” he shouted, ecstatic. A searing pain shot through my abdomen, and my face went pale. I had been so careful. How was this happening again? As the doctors wheeled me away, I saw Leo staring at my IV drip… with a smile on his face. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. The liquid in the IV bag was a faint, pale green. Like diluted Dream-Soothing Tonic. 4 When I woke up again, the doctor looked at me with pity. “I’m sorry. You suffered from sudden acute liver necrosis. We had to remove half of your liver.” The incision in my abdomen throbbed. Leo was crying his eyes out. “Don’t be scared, Mom! I’ll get into a great school, and I’ll make something of myself so I can take good care of you!” Joey hugged me tightly. “Honey, what is happening? Why is our luck so bad?” My eyes were vacant. I had thought Leo was oblivious to all of this. But that one look I saw before I passed out sent a chill through my soul. They all knew. They all knew the tonic was dangerous, and they were deliberately using my life to secure their own good fortune. I wouldn’t let them win. I would not close my eyes again until the psychic gave me an answer. As long as I didn’t dream, I was safe. After three sleepless days and nights, the psychic contacted me. “Are you, by nature, a person who does not dream?” I sat up, my heart pounding. “Yes! How did you know?” The psychic sighed. “That explains it. There is a dark, karmic ritual involving a Fortune Transference Tonic. It allows a person to make their dreams a reality, but at a cost of flesh and blood.” “Normally, a person’s dreams are too chaotic to control. But if the desired dream is written on a special talisman, burned, and dissolved into the tonic, then fed to a naturally dreamless person, the dream can be controlled.” “And the corresponding backlash is borne entirely by the dreamless one.” I gasped. So that was it. That’s why it only ever affected me. The psychic continued, his voice grave. “You have already paid the price twice. A third time will likely cost you your life.” “This tonic is incredibly potent. A single drop is enough. It will be almost impossible to guard against.” I begged him to help me. He sent me a talisman and told me to place it under my pillow. After three days, I was to burn it to ash, mix it with water, and drink it. It would nullify the tonic’s effects. I hid the talisman from Joey and Leo, just as the psychic instructed. Joey started visiting more frequently. He was getting impatient. Three days later, he brought me a bowl of bird’s nest soup. “Honey, Dad was so worried when he heard you were sick. He insisted I bring this for you.” The soup was in a pristine white porcelain bowl. But I could have sworn it had a greenish tint. I claimed I was feeling unwell and refused to drink it. Joey’s face twisted into a snarl. He grabbed my chin, forcing my jaw open. “My father is dying of cancer, and he’s still worried about you! How can you be so ungrateful?” He was stronger than me. The soup was poured down my throat. Joey smiled, satisfied. “There, that’s better. I’m only doing this for your own good.” Just then, the pillow on the bed slipped to the floor, revealing the talisman underneath. Joey snatched it up. “What is this?” This was my last chance. I bit down hard on his hand, grabbed the talisman, and quickly burned it. I mixed the ashes with the dregs of the soup he had brought and drank it all down. “It’s the Fortune Transference Tonic, isn’t it?” I laughed, a wild, desperate sound. “I already know everything!” The color drained from Joey’s face. But for some reason, my eyelids were growing heavy. As I collapsed onto the bed, the third dream began. I dreamt my father-in-law’s cancer was miraculously cured. I struggled to wake up, and when I did, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. I was on the operating table before I could even process what had happened. I drank the counter-talisman, just like he said. Why did I dream again? My breathing became shallow. A doctor shouted, “Her heart rate is dropping! Get the defibrillator!” My vision blurred. Am I going to die again? I fought to keep my eyes open, wanting one last look at the world. And suddenly, my pupils constricted. That’s it. I finally understood the truth.

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In one week, I’m boarding a flight for a medical mission in the remote Rockies, and then I’ll never have to see Victoria again. I found out about everything a month ago. Including the secret of the child growing inside her. Just now, she went to the restroom and handed me her phone to hold. The screen lit up with a message from her best friend: Hey, prenatal checkup today. Make sure your husband isn’t with you. I scrolled up through the chat history and found something that hit me like a physical blow. Her friend had asked when she planned on telling her husband she was pregnant with some college kid’s baby. Victoria’s reply: I promised him one life, one love, just the two of us. If I break that promise, we’re over. For good. So she had decided never to tell me. To let the secret die with her. She even wrote that she’d have the child call me Dad. Just then, Victoria returned. She guided my hand to my cane and cooed, “I was only gone for three minutes and I missed you like crazy.” She didn’t notice that my sight had returned weeks ago. She didn’t see me watching her, really seeing her, from behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses. 1 I placed the phone back in her hand and urged her to go on home. “I can handle submitting my resignation myself. You should head back.” Victoria’s brow furrowed, ready to insist on staying with me. But then, a voice called out from across the hall. “Vic! Fancy seeing you here. Did you get my text?” A young man with an easy smile strolled over. “Coming to the hospital, and you didn’t bring Henry along to help?” Victoria froze, a wave of panic washing over her face. She leaned in close to the newcomer and whispered harshly, “Can’t you see him standing right here?” The guy, unfazed, simply waved a hand right in front of my face. Then he gave Victoria a playful nudge. “Relax. Henry here wouldn’t know a thing, no matter what you get up to.” He grinned at me. “A smart man knows when to let his woman be, right, Henry?” I just nodded along. “Go with your friend. You don’t have to stay with me.” With that, I turned and walked away. Victoria reached for my hand, but the young man, Liam, intercepted her, his expression a mask of feigned hurt. “Vic,” he whined, “you’re not going to leave me to go to the appointment for our baby all alone, are you?” Her feet stopped moving. Her hand instinctively found his and squeezed it. Her voice, when she spoke, was syrupy sweet, a tone I’d never heard her use before. “Of course not, silly.” When I submitted my resignation, the hospital director was overjoyed to hear my vision had recovered. But then he asked, again and again, if I was absolutely certain about the medical mission in the Rockies. It was a three-year commitment. I just gave him a firm, steady nod. Leaving the director’s office, I walked past the ultrasound room. Through the crack in the door, I saw it all. Liam, his ear pressed gently against Victoria’s stomach, listening. And Victoria, her hand stroking his hair with a tenderness she once reserved for me. Liam planted a soft peck on her belly, and she let out a little gasp of a laugh. A nurse nearby reminded her to avoid any strenuous activity for the time being. Victoria nodded dutifully, but her friends, gathered around, couldn’t contain their giggles. “Oh, how’s our boy here supposed to contain all his… energy!” one of them teased. Liam ducked his head, a shy smile on his face, and mumbled, “Yeah, I mean, we were all over each other on your and your husband’s bed just a few days ago.” It was the first time I had ever seen Victoria blush like that. The others piled on. “This is more like the Vic we know! Seriously, what’s a blind man like Henry Anderson got to offer you anymore?” “Besides, even if he found out, what could he do? No one wants a blind man. He’d never leave you.” The blush vanished from Victoria’s face, replaced by a dark, thunderous expression. “Don’t you dare let a word of this get back to him. Understand?” she warned, her voice low and sharp. Her friends just waved her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You and Liam could do it right in front of his face every day and he’d never know.” “Relax, Vic. It’s fine.” Just then, a nurse behind me called out. “Dr. Anderson? You left this in the director’s office.” The chatter inside the ultrasound room died instantly. Victoria shot up from her seat, her eyes wide with panic as they darted toward me. “Henry,” she stammered, her voice trembling slightly, “you… you didn’t hear anything just now, did you?” A flicker of guilt crossed her face, but she didn’t seem to notice that her hand was still intertwined with Liam’s. “I just got here. Didn’t hear a thing.” She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Then, she quickly added, “I was just here with my friend. For her and her husband’s prenatal checkup.” As she spoke, Liam hooked his pinky around hers, his eyes meeting mine over her shoulder with a look of pure provocation and contempt. I lowered my head. “I’m heading home. You guys carry on. I won’t disturb you.” I turned and walked away, my pace quickening until it felt like I was running. Once in my car, I stared out at the blur of traffic, a knot tightening in my chest. A bitter sting pricked my eyes, and my vision blurred for a different reason now. Even though I had already made my decision to leave, the pain was a physical, crushing weight. Before the accident, my eyes were fine. I once had a patient, a man who had gone blind. His family treated him like a burden, and the woman he loved left him without a second thought. I remember telling Victoria about it, and she’d said with such conviction, “That kind of woman is just trash.” She swore that even if the world ended, she would love me until her last breath. And now, here we were, at a fork in the road. And I was choosing my path first. Back home, I collapsed onto the floor, the stark white light of the ceiling fixture stabbing at my newly healed eyes. I met Victoria in a university club. She was the campus queen—perfect grades, scholarships piling up. I fell for her the moment I saw her. She was gentle even in her rejections. Every day, I’d stand under her dorm window like a fool, bringing her breakfast I’d made myself, even as she politely turned me down. Until the day one of the guys she’d rejected came at her with a knife. I stepped in front of her. And that was how I lost my sight. My future, shattered. The surgeon I was meant to be became a psychologist. In that chaotic moment, she had pressed her trembling hands to my bleeding eyes, her voice choked with tears. “Henry, I’ll be your girlfriend, just please, don’t scare me like this.” And so we were together. She was relentless in my recovery, massaging my eyes every day, buying the best medical equipment. She promised to be my eyes. The sound of the lock turning snapped me back to the present. Victoria stepped inside. Seeing me sitting there in the dark, she chided gently, “Why are you still up? It’s so bad for your eyes.” I didn’t answer. She must have sensed the shift in my mood. She came closer, leaning in to kiss my eyes as she always did. But my gaze fell on the man’s jacket draped over her shoulders, and a wave of revulsion washed over me. I flinched away, pushing her back. A look of stunned surprise crossed her face. The timing of my recovery had been a cruel twist of fate. A month ago, I woke in the middle of the night to a sharp, stabbing pain in my eyes. I blinked them open, and to my astonishment, I could see. The world rushed back in blurry shapes, then sharpened into focus. I turned my head, ecstatic, ready to wake Victoria and share the miracle. But I saw a third person in our bed. Liam and Victoria, tangled together right beside me. At the height of their passion, I heard her whisper, “Keep it down… you’ll wake him.” I choked back a sob, clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next day, I applied for the medical mission in the Rockies. “Henry, don’t scare me like this.” Victoria’s voice was laced with a genuine, painful confusion. I brought myself back to the present, closing my eyes. “I’m just tired. That’s all.” But her mind was already racing, connecting dots I hadn’t intended for her to see. “Henry, this morning at the hospital, I swear I was just there with my friend for her checkup.” Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. Her voice trembled. “Henry, I love you, as God is my witness. If I didn’t have you, I don’t know who would ever love me.” That night, she clung to me as she slept, her arm a dead weight across my chest. She never let go, as if she was terrified I’d vanish by morning. The next day, she prepared a huge breakfast, a feast laid out just for me. She watched with hopeful eyes as I sat down to eat. It was the middle of summer, but she was wearing a turtleneck. If I hadn’t seen the dark, angry love bites on her neck the night I regained my sight, I might have asked her if she was feeling sick. She noticed my gaze and looked away. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.” My stomach churned. I forced down a few bites before putting my fork down. Victoria watched me with a worried expression, then suggested we go on a date. This time, she didn’t grab my cane. She led me by the hand straight to the car. As I settled into the passenger seat, my eyes landed on a pair of men’s briefs lying on the floor mat. Victoria’s face went pale. She snatched them up, folded them neatly, and stuffed them into her pocket. She drove us to an orphanage on the outskirts of the city. She seemed to know the place well, pulling me by the hand toward a group of children playing in the yard. She passed out candy, encouraging the kids to come and talk to me, to cheer me up. Their laughter was a balm, and for a while, the knot of tension in my shoulders began to ease. Victoria watched me the entire time, rushing to my side if I stumbled while playing with the kids, her hands hovering, ready to catch me. When she finally saw a genuine smile on my face, she visibly relaxed. Then, when the moment felt right, she approached me, her voice soft and gentle. “Henry, you’ve always wanted a child, haven’t you?” “I have some wonderful news. I’m pregnant!” As if on cue, Liam appeared, walking slowly toward us. Victoria pulled the folded briefs from her pocket and discreetly passed them to him. He gave her a knowing look. Then, she took my hand and placed it on her flat stomach. “This is my friend’s husband,” she explained smoothly. “He’s been a great help to her during her pregnancy. Since it’ll be harder for me to take care of you now, I was thinking… maybe he could move in with us for a while? To help you out?” The joy I’d felt playing with the children evaporated. A chill spread through my veins. My voice was colder than I had ever heard it. “Are you sure it’s my child?” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. Help me? Or help them carry on their affair under my own roof? Make me a father to her lover’s child? I wasn’t interested. My question made Victoria flinch. “Henry, what are you saying? That’s not a funny joke.” The rage boiled over. In a single, fluid motion, I spun around and drove my fist into Liam’s jaw. He crumpled to the ground. The next thing I knew, Victoria was screaming at me. “Henry Anderson, you’ve gone too far this time!” It was the first time she’d ever used my full name. The first time she’d ever raised her voice to me in anger. I let out a bitter laugh, playing right into Liam’s hands. “So what if I have?” For a second, her hand rose, ready to slap me. But it hung there, trembling in the air, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she lowered it, her jaw tight. “I’m taking Liam to get some ice for his face,” she said, her voice strained. “You can find your own way home.” She helped Liam to his feet and wrapped her arm around his, leading him away without a backward glance. After she left, the sky opened up. A cold, driving rain began to fall. It seemed she had forgotten she hadn’t brought my cane. She had forgotten what it was like for a blind man to be abandoned in an unfamiliar place, with no one to guide him. But I wasn’t blind anymore. I walked over to a nearby trash can, pulled the dark glasses from my face, and dropped them inside. With my own eyes, clear and sharp, I looked down the road and walked out of that place for good. In the final days before my flight to the Rockies, Victoria was rarely home. When she was, a message would pop up on her phone, and she would leave in a hurry. Believing I couldn’t see, she made no effort to hide the screen. That’s how I discovered her second account, a private one she used to message only one person: Liam. Three days before I left, Liam posted a picture of an ultrasound on his social media. Friends commented on how much the baby already looked like Victoria. That day, I took everything Victoria had ever bought me on our dates and donated it to the orphanage. Two days to go. Victoria’s private account posted a photo of a heart-shaped breakfast she’d made for Liam. I listed the wedding suit she’d bought me on a second-hand website. The final day. Liam used Victoria’s main account to post a picture of her sleeping peacefully. The comments were flooded with congratulations. My flight was boarding soon. I picked up my suitcase, ready to walk out the door. And then she appeared. She stood in the doorway, phone in hand, her eyes red and swollen. “Henry,” she demanded, her voice shaking with rage, “why is your name on the list for the Rockies medical mission?!” Her words barely registered. Of course. As the Head of Surgery, she would have to approve the list of volunteers. Her agitation was a stark contrast to my own profound calm. “I wanted to go, so I went. What’s the problem?” “The problem? It’s a three-year post, Henry! Three years! Not three hours, not three minutes! If you’re not here, what am I supposed to do all by myself?” she shrieked, all composure gone. I gave a small, careless shrug. “Oh, but you’re not alone. You have Liam. And, of course, your baby.”

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At the company victory party, Sophia took the mic and announced to everyone that she wanted a new husband. The words hit me like a physical blow, freezing me where I stood. But down in the crowd, a young man named Ryan erupted in laughter. He loudly mocked the idea of an old guy like me being scared stiff at the thought of being dumped. He then urged Sophia to make good on their bet. She’d wagered the most, he crowed, and now she owed him a cool $5,200. The room joined in, roaring with laughter. Sophia, without a second glance at me, stepped off the stage. After transferring the money, she even playfully nuzzled against Ryan’s chest. Only then did she turn back to me, her voice light and dismissive. “It was just a joke, Alex. We were just having fun with the kid, livening things up. Don’t take it seriously.” She must have thought I’d swallow my pride and let it go, just like I always did. But this time, I picked up the microphone. “Funny you should say that, Sophia,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. I let the silence hang for a beat before adding, “Because my wish was exactly the same.” 1 The laughter died instantly. Sophia’s face darkened. “Everyone’s just messing around,” she snapped. “What are you trying to prove?” Before I could answer, she waved a dismissive hand at the crowd, her tone dripping with condescension. “Our CEO, Mr. Reed, has been a bit emotionally unstable lately. I apologize on his behalf.” Ryan tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Could it be a mid-life crisis? Tell me, Sophia, can you smell the old man on him when you’re in bed at night?” He clapped a hand over his mouth in mock innocence. Sophia feigned a scolding tone. “Ryan, don’t be rude.” But the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice… there was no reprimand in it. Only pure, unadulterated indulgence. Ryan caught it, too, and his arrogance swelled. A chorus of snickers rose from the crowd. The eyes on me were filled with mockery and contempt. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, a spiderweb of hurt spreading through my body. Ten years. I had been with her from nothing, watched her build an empire. And this was my reward: to be publicly shamed while she shielded a younger man, treating me as if I were worthless. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and took a deep breath. “Ryan,” I said, my voice steady, “you should know that illegal gambling and public slander are grounds not just for termination, but for a lawsuit. I could have you arrested.” The color drained from Ryan’s face. He shot a panicked look at Sophia. Their shared glance was a knife in my gut. In the next second, she stepped forward. Just like she used to do for me, she planted herself firmly in front of Ryan, a human shield. “Don’t you pull that ‘boss’ act with me, Alex Reed,” she spat. “Weren’t you the one who cried his eyes out ten years ago when you got fired over two hundred dollars?” I looked at her, and a bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. She was right. If she hadn’t gotten into that fight back then, I wouldn’t have been fired. I wouldn’t have been two hundred dollars short on rent, feeling like my world was ending. Back then, she had cupped my tear-stained face, her eyes fierce and devoted. “Anyone who dares to hurt you,” she’d sworn, “I’ll give my life to make them pay.” Now, the very person who had promised to protect me for life was the one holding the umbrella that sheltered the man stabbing me in the back. The irony was suffocating. Tired of the standoff, Sophia grabbed my arm and dragged me into an adjacent private room. She shoved me hard. The new leather shoes I was wearing, stiff and unforgiving, dug into my ankle, drawing blood. I hissed in pain. Sophia paused, her voice cold. “You insist on wearing them even if they don’t fit. Always making things harder for yourself. No wonder you have to pick on a kid like him.” “If you’re done, you should just go home. I’m busy.” Without another glance, she turned and left. I sat on the sofa, stunned, for a long time before I finally pulled out my phone. An employee had posted from the party. Ryan’s post was the most prominent. Just two pictures. One was a screenshot of the $5,200 transfer. The memo read: From my idol~ The other was a photo of him and Sophia, their heads close together. Ryan looked blissful; Sophia was smiling down, a soft look on her face. The comments were full of his thinly veiled jabs about me being bad-tempered and unromantic. I looked down at the expensive, ill-fitting shoes on my feet and finally accepted the truth. Some people are only with you for the struggle, not the success. The warmth of the past, the promises—they were real. But the coldness of the present, the change of heart—that was real, too. I picked up my phone. The two cruise tickets I’d booked months ago stared back at me. I had tried so many times to patch up the thousand little cracks in our ten-year history. But now, with a simple tap of my finger, I cancelled Sophia’s ticket. Then, I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer. For the rest of my journey, I realized, I no longer had to wait for anyone. It was late when I got home. In my dreams, I was back in the blizzard from ten years ago. In our tiny rented room, Sophia and I huddled together for warmth. No parents, no connections, just our own two hands to build a life. Back then, I was constantly anxious about being five years older than her. But one day, she came home, a mysterious smile on her face. She rolled up her sleeve to reveal my name, Alex Reed, freshly and bloodily carved into the pale skin of her forearm. Her eyes shone with a frightening intensity as she rushed to reassure me. “See? Now you don’t have to be scared. If I, Sophia, ever stop loving you, my life has no meaning.” Those days of struggling, of finding warmth in each other, churned over and over in my sleep. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the fractured reality of the present. Sophia was sitting by the bed, her voice devoid of emotion. “So you just hide under the covers and sulk when I’m not home? Alex, what would it cost you to just soften up a little?” I turned my back to her, unwilling to speak. She took a deep breath and sat on the sofa behind me. “You know, Alex,” she said casually, “you can’t even give me a child. By all rights, I’ve already done more than enough for you.” “And I came back today to tell you that Ryan is dealing with depression. I need you to stop targeting him.” Her tone was light, but her words plunged a knife into my deepest wound. I shot up, grabbing the bedside lamp and hurling it at her. My voice was a ragged tremor. “Sophia, if I hadn’t walked for two hours in that blizzard to close that deal for you, our little Lily would be here right now, calling me ‘Daddy’!” “How can you say that, Sophia? Are you even human?” Maybe the raw vulnerability on my face was too much for her. She looked at my reddened eyes, and her expression finally softened. “I can’t be expected to chain myself to a man who brings no value, can I? You know, even the most loyal woman gets tired.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, my laugh sharp with scorn. “What? And I’m supposed to be grateful for that?” A flicker of anger finally ignited in her eyes. “Are you ever going to let it go? In the end, it was your carelessness that we lost Lily. You deserve this!” “Ryan is so much younger than you, but he’s a hundred times more thoughtful. Look at you now! You’re being completely irrational!” She slammed the door on her way out. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, Ryan was the first person I saw at the office. He sauntered in with a cup of coffee, his smile a venomous sneer. “Alex, Sophia told me last night I need to take good care of my body. I guess she’s finally tired of a man like you.” I didn’t even look up from my desk. “Take care of it for what? To be a better toyboy?” Ryan’s face changed, and he opened his mouth to retort, but then we both heard Sophia’s footsteps approaching. He lurched forward, “accidentally” spilling the scalding coffee all over me. My arm instantly turned an angry red. He grabbed me, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Mr. Reed, I was sincerely trying to apologize! Even if you don’t like me, you could at least cut me some slack, knowing my health isn’t good.” Sophia kicked open my office door. “Alex, don’t push it! Do you really think you can do whatever you want?” “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Ryan, I will make you pay!” With that, she helped Ryan to his feet and walked out, right in front of a crowd of gawking employees. The burning pain in my arm was nothing compared to the desolation that flooded my heart. Before I could even form a response, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. My vision went black, and I collapsed. When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. As I struggled to sit up, a nurse who had come to change my dressing gently pushed me back down. “You have a weak heart,” he said. “You can’t overwork yourself like this. Don’t be so reckless with your job.” I froze, staring at him in disbelief. Just then, Sophia’s voice echoed from the hallway. She strode in, her eyes completely void of concern. “You really know how to put on a show, Alex. Ryan’s in the hospital, so you have to be in the hospital too? Are you that desperate for attention?” I looked up at her, intending to tell her what the doctor had said about my heart. But her baseless accusations made any explanation feel pointless. The passion I once had for her had long since rotted away, silenced by her constant, blatant favoritism. Seeing my silence, her voice grew colder. “Fine. Play your little games for as long as you want. I’m not participating.” She turned and left. The room was deathly quiet. I placed a hand over my chest, which for the moment felt steady. As soon as I’m discharged, I thought, I’m leaving. Leaving Sophia, and leaving this place of endless pain. The exhaustion of the past few days washed over me, and I drifted off to sleep. When I opened my eyes again, it was pitch black outside. And standing by my bed, holding my medical chart, was Ryan. Hearing me stir, he whipped his head around, his eyes burning with resentment and malice. “Alex, why did you have to pick now to fight me?” I tried to push myself up, but my body felt leaden. Ryan saw me move and immediately assumed I was going to call for Sophia. He stepped forward, blocking my path, his voice twisted with hate. “Shameless! You cling to your position as Mr. Reed, and now you’re pretending to be sick to solidify your status.” I had no energy to argue. I reached for the call button on the bedside table. But Ryan shrieked and lunged at me. “Since you won’t listen to reason, then you can just die with that broken heart of yours!” The unexpected force of his shove sent me off balance. My chest slammed hard into the corner of the nightstand. An explosion of pain erupted in my chest, radiating through my entire body. The world spun. I felt a warm trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. The door to the room opened—I don’t know when—and Sophia rushed in. I saw her brow furrow in concern as she started towards me. “Sophia, help me…” Before I could finish, Ryan grabbed her arm, his grip like a vise. He clutched his own chest, his voice trembling and pitiful. “Sophia, it’s not Alex’s fault. I’m the one to blame for falling in love with you. If punishing me makes him happy and makes things easier for you, then I’m willing to accept it.” “But Sophia,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face, “my chest… it hurts so much. Am I going to be okay?” Sophia’s expression changed in an instant. The flicker of concern in her eyes when she looked at me was replaced by cold accusation. “Alex, losing Lily doesn’t give you the right to make everyone else pay for your misery! You’ve gone too far this time!” “I couldn’t save Lily. I refuse to lose another.” She gently helped Ryan up and hurried out of the room. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone. Sticky blood soaked the collar of my shirt. I slowly closed my eyes. I knew that my battered, broken heart had just been crushed one last time. I was woken up by my phone. It was a voice message from Sophia. No apology, no concern. Just a perfunctory, matter-of-fact statement. “Ryan wants to see the ocean, so I’m taking him. There’s no one here to watch your performance, so you can stop the act.” I slowly lowered the phone, placing a hand on the dull ache in my chest. The pain was gone now, replaced by an endless, echoing numbness. I opened my contacts and found my old friend, James. I arranged to transfer all of my company shares and business assets to him. I had considered an amicable divorce, for old times’ sake. Now, it seemed, that was no longer necessary. In the days that followed, I focused on two things: my recovery and finalizing the divorce settlement and asset transfers. Once everything was in order, I went back to the house to pack. The place was a mess, littered with traces of her and Ryan. I ignored it all, quietly packing my things. There was no nostalgia, no regret. Halfway through, Sophia called. “Ryan’s not feeling well. Move out so he can move in.” I tossed the wedding photo from the wall into a box. “Okay,” I said calmly. There was a silence on the other end of the line. She clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. In the past ten years, whenever a situation like this had come up, I would have fought her, screaming and refusing. A note of surprise crept into her voice. “This is our marital home. Have you forgotten?” My hands stilled. A bone-deep chill spread through me. So she did remember what this place meant to me. And yet, she still chose to trample on it, to provoke me in the cruelest way possible. I composed myself. “It’s fine,” I said softly. “Do whatever you want.” My compliance seemed to infuriate her. “Fine. Great. Since you don’t care about anything, then you can give your General Manager position to Ryan!” I didn’t say another word. I hung up, mailed the package, and checked the time. My cruise departed in five hours. Just as I was about to leave, a crew of workers swarmed in and started demolishing the interior of the house. I stopped them, frowning. “Who let you into my home?” The foreman didn’t even look up. “Ms. Sophia’s orders. Tear everything down and redecorate it to Mr. Ryan’s liking.” Just then, Ryan appeared at the door, a triumphant smirk on his face. “See, Alex? No matter how much you struggle, Sophia chose me in the end. You should just give up.” I looked at his smug face and found it laughable. Not bothering to argue, I walked towards the elevator. But as the doors opened, I came face-to-face with Sophia. “Where are you going?” “A business trip.” Hearing this, her posture relaxed slightly. “Don’t think you can use a business trip as an excuse to miss the promotion meeting,” she said. “I’m telling you, you have to be there!” I didn’t even spare her a glance as I stepped into the elevator. How could she know that in a few hours, I would be on a cruise ship? And that after the trip, I would be flying directly to James’s country. Never to return. Sophia watched me go, her voice laced with a petulant threat. “You’d better not regret this, Alex Reed! When you come back crying and begging me to take you back, I won’t!” The elevator doors closed, and the world outside fell away. I had finally left behind the place that held all my youth and all my pain. Sophia, still thinking I was just throwing a tantrum, decided to play along. At Ryan’s promotion meeting, all the company executives were present. Ryan clutched his chest, looking weakly at Sophia. “Sophia, do you think… do you think Alex didn’t come because of me? It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t accepted the promotion…” Sophia’s brow was furrowed, her displeasure obvious. “He’s taking this tantrum too far, bringing it into a company meeting. When he gets back, I’ll make sure he apologizes to you.” She said it with such certainty, as if I would walk through the door at any second, crying and admitting I was wrong. Just then, there was a soft knock on the conference room door. The receptionist walked in with a local courier package. “Ms. Sophia, this is for you. The sender said it was a special gift and that you had to sign for it personally.” Sophia’s eyes lit up. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. This had to be it. My peace offering. She had won again. Her voice held a hint of eager anticipation. “Open it.” The assistant did as she was told, but the next second, her face paled. Inside, there were no flowers, no apology note. Just two documents. One was a signed divorce agreement. The other was a share transfer certificate.

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1 I became a wisp of smoke, hovering in the interrogation room. Below me, Gideon, the country’s most wanted drug lord, was finally caught. He used to be my boyfriend. Everyone was searching for me, the “dirty cop who went rogue for love.” The department even live-streamed the interrogation. The lead interrogator was my father—the narcotics captain who swore to arrest me himself. He slammed the table, roaring, demanding to know where I was. But Gideon just laughed, tears streaming down his face. “You hate her?” he asked scornfully. “Without the intel she gave her life to pass, how could you have caught me?” “I thought she loved me completely. I never imagined she was undercover!” His eyes were red, almost bleeding. “I couldn’t bear to kill her, but she was so damn tough. I had to break her bones, one by one, to make her crack.” Then Gideon’s tone changed. “Captain Stevens, the text that sold out your daughter… it was sent from your phone. Your precious adopted daughter did it.” The broadcast fell silent. My father laughed sharply. “Nonsense! Lies even now! My traitorous daughter put you up to this!” I watched the disgust on his face and screamed without sound: Dad, he’s telling the truth. In the end, they didn’t leave me a single whole bone. … “Captain Stevens, I feel sorry for Kate. Does her death not even earn a shred of your sympathy?” “You’re still protecting that adopted girl of yours.” Gideon’s laughter was choked with tears. My father shot to his feet, but his deputy grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Captain, we’re live.” My father braced his hands on the interrogation table, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll ask you one last time. Where is Kate? Tell me, and I’ll get you a lighter sentence.” “I’ve got enough on me to be executed ten times over. What do I need a lighter sentence for?” Gideon sneered. “But I do want to see you suffer for the rest of your life.” “The abandoned mine at Black Ridge.” Gideon wiped the tears from his face, his smile that of a madman. “Go take a look, Captain Stevens. See if you can piece your daughter back together.” My father’s pupils shrank. His hand froze in mid-air. “Lies,” he rasped, his voice unrecognizable. “Kate isn’t dead. This is all a setup. The wicked live long lives.” He repeated it, as if trying to convince himself. “She was always so afraid of pain. There’s no way… she could have survived torture.” That’s right, Dad. I was always so afraid of pain. When I was little, a scraped knee was enough to make me cry until you comforted me for hours. But Dad, when I was strapped to that iron chair, I shattered three of my own molars from biting down so hard, and I never said a single word. It wasn’t that I wasn’t afraid. It was that I couldn’t be. Because I am a police officer. You taught me that yourself, Dad: to serve and protect, to lay down my life for my country. The deputy jotted down the coordinates. The live feed was cut. My father strode out of the room. Nina saw him storming out and cautiously offered him a glass of water. “Dad, have a drink. I brought you some soup.” The tension in my father’s face eased slightly. He took the glass and patted her shoulder. “Good girl. Don’t hang around the station. Go home and wait.” Nina’s eyes welled with tears. “Dad, I swear I never used your phone to send any messages! Gideon is just trying to turn you against me!” “Kate didn’t even care about getting revenge for Mom, who was killed by drug dealers. She was determined to run off with that monster.” “Now Gideon is probably just trying to clear her name, making up this horrible story about her being dead and in pieces just to break your heart!” The anger my father had just suppressed erupted again. “Don’t mention that traitor! She deserves to be dead, and if she isn’t, I’ll shoot her myself!” “Everyone, get ready to move out. I’m going to see what kind of sick game she’s playing!” I floated in the air, a sharp, stabbing pain piercing my non-existent heart. It hurt more than when Gideon was shattering my bones. It was always like this. All Nina had to do was shed a few tears, whisper a few poisonous words, and everyone would rush to her side. When I was sixteen, I took a knife for Nina, and it went clean through my shoulder. But Nina just cried and said, “Kate was the one who insisted we take that dark alley.” And my father slapped me so hard my ears rang, calling me a reckless troublemaker. That slap hurt, but not as much as this. Two young officers walking by exchanged a glance. One of them whispered. “Nina is such a good kid. She failed the police academy entrance exam twice, but she’s more devoted to the captain than his own daughter. And look at Kate, a dirty cop, a disgrace to the force. She’s dragged her father’s name through the mud.” The other one nodded. “Don’t even talk about her. People like that deserve to die.” The world of the dead is so cold. 2 The abandoned mine at Black Ridge. The team swept their flashlights across the underground passage. The ground was littered with shattered white fragments, mixed with dried, blackened blood. The medical examiner’s voice was hoarse. “Captain, this could be…” “Can you tell if they’re human or animal bones just by looking?” my father cut him off. The M.E. looked down. “The fragmentation is too severe. I can’t find a single piece larger than two centimeters. We’ll have to take them back to the lab for DNA analysis.” My father looked away. “Send them for testing. I’ll only believe the results.” The team began collecting the remains in silence. My father walked toward a corner, his flashlight beam still searching for any sign that I had staged the scene and escaped. The light fell upon the base of the wall, and he stopped dead. Carved into the stone was a sunflower. The lines were crooked and distorted, etched deep into the rock. The edges were crusted with blackened blood and bits of flesh. When I was nine, my mother was killed in the line of duty. My father, a man of few words, could only point to the side of the road to comfort my sobbing self. “Mom became a sunflower,” he’d said. “She’ll always be watching you grow up.” Every year after that, on the anniversary of her death, we would plant sunflower seeds under the oldest cypress tree in the state forest. It was also where we had buried a time capsule together when I was twelve. The deputy approached him. “Find something, Captain?” “Notify the local precinct. Seal off a two-mile radius around the oldest cypress tree in the forest.” “Kate is trying to lure me there. We’re heading back to the station to sort through the intel first.” My father turned his back to the others, but the fists clenched at his sides were trembling uncontrollably. Dad, just go look under the old cypress tree. There’s a gift there I left for you. … Back at the station, everyone was buzzing about the bone fragments. “They have to be fake. It’s a smokescreen planted by Gideon.” “Exactly. What if there’s a tracker hidden in the bones?” “The Captain said the symbol points to the old tree near his place. It’s definitely a trap.” I thought I had become numb to the pain, but their words still cut deep. I knew every inch of this place, every face. And they were all cursing my name. He sat in his office, staring blankly at our old chat history on his phone. Over a hundred messages from him in the past three years. The first few were angry: “Get your ass back here and face the consequences.” Later, they became more formal: “I’ve signed your arrest warrant. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The gaps between messages grew longer, until finally, there was just an occasional, desperate question: “…Where the hell are you.” He scrolled through them again and again. Finally, he locked the screen, turned the phone face down on the desk, and buried his face in his hands. I drifted over to him, wanting to give him a hug. But my form passed right through him. I couldn’t even do that one small thing for him anymore. Dad, I always wanted to reply. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Dad. I let you down. The office door creaked open. Nina came in with a bowl of soup, her eyes red. She pretended to tidy his desk, but “accidentally” knocked over the only framed photo of my father and me. “I’m sorry, Dad… I’m just so scared,” Nina sobbed, covering her face. “Kate isn’t dead. Those bones are just a trick to fool you! Just now, she had someone send me a message, saying she’ll never let me go, that she’ll kill me to get her revenge…” “Enough!” My father shot up from his chair, his shoe grinding the shattered photo into the floor. “Faking her own death, threatening her family… she’s completely lost her mind!” My father’s fists were clenched, his jaw tight. “Don’t you worry, Nina. This time, I’ll tear this city apart if I have to, but I will drag that monster back here myself.” He picked up the internal phone line. “All units, assemble. We’re heading to the state forest. Full-scale search.” Dad, you still believe her so easily. Why couldn’t you ever believe me? 3 “Captain, we’re five hundred meters from the forest entrance. Should we send in a drone for recon first?” “No need.” My father racked the slide of his pistol. The metallic click was sharp in the night air. “If she’s in there, box her in.” “If she runs, I’ll take her down myself.” I floated beside him, a bitter smile on my lips. You’ll never get the chance to shoot, Dad. I’m already dead. One of the younger officers, Chen, followed behind him, hesitant. “Captain… what if there’s no one in there?” “No one?” My father sneered. “I’ll catch her eventually.” The convoy stopped at the edge of the forest. Flashlight beams cut through the trees. “Report, Captain. No signs of any human activity within the forest.” “Thermal imaging is also clear.” After the bomb squad gave the all-clear, a forensics team began to dig. A shovel hit something hard. It was my time capsule. The metal box was pried open. Inside lay a police badge, and beneath it, a piece of paper with my childish handwriting: “I want to be a hero, just like my dad.” The moment my father saw the badge, a look of pure disgust crossed his face. He snatched it, threw it to the ground, and ground it into the mud with his heel. “Keep digging!” He was the one who had pinned that badge on me. Now, he thought I was unworthy of it. On my graduation day, after he’d pinned on my badge, he had hugged me tightly. “You make me so proud,” he’d said. “Always act in a way that honors this badge.” He had been beaming all day, telling everyone he met, “My daughter takes after me.” Dad, I never once disgraced the badge you gave me. My memory was interrupted by a technician’s excited voice. “We’ve found something critical!” It was a metal box, wrapped in three layers of waterproof material. Inside was a fully sealed, electronically locked crypto-case. The technician examined it from every angle. “Captain, this is high-level encryption. We can’t crack it in the field. We have to take it back.” My father gave the box a cursory glance. “Take it back to the station. Tell the tech department they’re all working overtime.” An emergency meeting was called as soon as they returned. Everyone was convinced the box contained a list of Gideon’s accomplices, or a backup of his distribution network—something Kate had left for herself to leverage a deal. The deputy chief slammed his hand on the table. “If this box contains a list of the network, it means Kate didn’t just go rogue—she was actively involved in drug trafficking.” “Stevens, if the evidence is conclusive, we’ll issue a global arrest warrant immediately.” My father sat at the head of the conference table. His shoulders slumped, then he nodded. “Issue the warrant if you have to.” When did my father start to lose faith in me? It began during my first month on the job. I was leading a stakeout, and my phone was on silent for eleven hours straight. When I got home late that night, exhausted, I was met with his fury. “Do you even remember you’re a police officer?” I stood in the doorway, bewildered. I found out later that Nina had mentioned something to him in passing. She’d been walking past a bar and saw me arguing with some guy with bleached-blond hair. Coincidences like that started happening more and more. A designer watch I’d never seen before would appear in my locker. My work computer would be left open to some disgusting online forum. And every time, Nina would use the most innocent tone, the most delicate words, to convince my father that I was the one responsible. In his eyes, I went from being a promising young officer to a corrupt parasite on the system. It’s not that I didn’t try to defend myself. But he never believed me. After Nina framed me one time too many, we had a massive fight. That was the day my life changed forever.

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