Category: English

The entire kindergarten class was taken hostage. The kidnapper’s voice boomed through a speaker: “No cops! The kid whose parents pay the most gets released first!” In my last life, I paid double the ransom, desperate to get my daughter, Maria, out of danger first. But my husband, Richard, the captain of the rescue team, insisted on avoiding any appearance of favoritism. He moved our daughter to the very end of the line. The kidnappers, enraged by the delay and perceived trickery, killed her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that moment. One of Richard’s team members was bowing to me. “Ma’am, you’re an inspiration. To avoid any conflict of interest, you willingly swapped your own child’s spot with the one at the very end.” On the list, Maria’s name was crossed out. Another name was written in its place. Tears streamed down my face as I screamed, “Change it back! Put my daughter’s name back!” Richard slapped me, his voice a vicious hiss. “I’m the captain of this team! I can’t have people thinking I’m using my position to save my own kid first!” 1 I was on the verge of collapse. “What if something happens to her?” He was unmoved. “Nothing will happen. Stop being so dramatic.” I trembled with rage. “Richard, you don’t deserve to be Maria’s father!” “She’s only five years old! Can you imagine how scared she’ll be, watching every other child get rescued while she’s left for last?” “If the kidnappers get agitated, have you even thought about what will happen to her?” The memory of her pleading eyes as she died in my last life made it hard to breathe. But he was resolute. “I’m the rescue captain. Maria is my daughter. It’s my duty to avoid favoritism.” “If Maria walks out of there first, what will people say about me?” “Richard!” I tore my arm from his grasp and slapped him hard across the face. “Our daughter’s life is on the line, and all you can think about is your reputation? Are you even human?” The sharp crack of the slap made his team members turn their heads. It also ignited Richard’s fury. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and threw me to the ground. “You have no sense of the bigger picture!” he roared. “If we save Maria first, what happens to my reputation?” I froze. For the first time, I saw the real man behind the mask. From the very beginning, Maria’s life had never been as important to him as his own damn reputation. I scrambled to my feet and turned to the other team members, my voice choked with sobs but every word clear. “I paid double the ransom! I did it so my daughter could be safe!” “But my husband secretly changed the list. He swapped Maria’s place with the little boy whose parents paid the least!” Everyone stared, stunned. After a moment of silence, an older team member finally spoke, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Ma’am, we really overestimated you.” “The captain is doing this for the greater good!” Another man immediately chimed in, his brow furrowed. “He’s sacrificing his own daughter for the honor of the team. That’s integrity. Why can’t you understand that?” “Yeah, seriously,” a younger team member scoffed, his tone dismissive. “You’re making a scene. If you piss off the kidnappers, it’s not just Maria who’s in danger. You’ll be risking all the other kids too! How can you be so selfish?” “Selfish?” I stared at them, my body shaking with disbelief. “So I’m supposed to be so noble that I’ll let you use my daughter’s life to polish your reputation? Is that it?” “That’s enough!” Richard barked. “Get her out of here! I don’t want her causing a scene and interfering with the rescue!” His men immediately moved to obey, closing in to grab me. 2 “Get off me!” I fought back with everything I had. “Richard, you cold-blooded monster! You’ll pay for this!” The kidnappers heard the commotion. A rough voice crackled over the loudspeaker: “What’s all that noise? You shut the hell up, or nobody’s leaving here today!” Richard’s face paled. He clamped a hand over my mouth. “Shut up! Are you trying to get everyone killed?” I was so consumed by rage that I bit down hard on his hand. “Bitch!” He kicked me square in the stomach. “Ugh! You… you actually hit me!” I curled into a ball, pain radiating through me. The man didn’t hesitate for a second, looking down at me with cold eyes. “That’s a lesson for you. If you cause any more trouble, don’t expect me to show any mercy.” He then turned and shouted toward the loudspeaker, “Sorry about that! My wife’s just worried about our kid, she’s not in her right mind! I’m handling it now!” The kidnapper’s voice came back, laced with contempt. “Well, handle it! If you don’t, her kid gets moved to the back of the line!” His words sent a shockwave through the crowd of parents. “What is wrong with that woman, Amelia? Her kid’s life is precious, but ours aren’t?” “Exactly! She’s delaying our children’s rescue! So selfish!” The accusations and insults flew at me like daggers, piercing my heart. I tried to fight back, my voice desperate. “No, the order is wrong! My daughter is supposed to be the first one released—” Someone cut me off. “They already announced the list! The highest bidder goes first. It’s not up to you!” “If you keep wasting time and piss off the kidnappers, what happens if they kill all the kids?” I tried to explain, but a large man grabbed me by the throat. “Listen to me, bitch. If anything happens to my son, I will hunt you down and bury you.” I couldn’t breathe. I looked to Richard, silently begging for help. He stood there, completely unmoved, as if I weren’t his wife of six years but a total stranger. A cold, bitter tear rolled down my cheek. The pressure on my neck tightened. I was about to pass out when I heard it. My daughter’s voice. “Mommy! Mommy, help me!” My eyes shot open. I saw Maria being pushed to the front of the line of children. The lead kidnapper held up the loudspeaker, his face a mask of fury. “Just in case any of you tried to call the cops, the kid at the end of the list is now our hostage!” It was just like last time. I could almost see the cold steel of the kidnapper’s knife slicing across my daughter’s pale throat— “No!” 3 A raw, agonizing scream tore from my throat as I fought free from the crowd. The murmurs started again. “Oh, so she’s the hostage’s mother. No wonder she’s hysterical.” “Tch. Serves her right for not paying enough. Just don’t let her drag our kids down with her.” “Her daughter dies, and our kids live? I’d say that’s a fair trade.” Shaking with fury, I lunged at the onlookers, clawing and scratching. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded across my back. Richard, who had been watching with cold indifference, had finally decided to act. He struck me with a heavy baton, knocking me to the ground, then turned to the crowd with a somber apology. “I’m so sorry, everyone. My wife is just overwrought. I’ll take her away now.” The crowd’s anger seemed to subside. “At least her husband knows how to prioritize.” “If your child really dies, we’ll all be sure to send flowers.” Richard put on a mask of deep sorrow. “If my daughter’s death can buy a chance for the other children to live, then her life will have had meaning.” I lay on the ground, my consciousness fading, silent tears tracking through the dirt on my face. “Tie her up,” Richard commanded his men. “Take her to the back room.” His team moved instantly to find rope. I thrashed wildly, my voice a raw scream. “Let me go! Richard, you bastard! You’ll regret this! Maria is your daughter!” But what could I, a weak and broken woman, do against several strong men? The rough rope bit into my wrists, the pain so sharp I nearly fainted. “Take her away!” Two men hooked their arms under mine and dragged me away like a broken doll. I stared at the closed kindergarten doors, imagining I could hear Maria’s heart-wrenching sobs. “Maria… Mommy’s so sorry…” I choked out, the taste of blood filling my throat. I was hauled into a dark room, and the door slammed shut. My wrists were raw and bleeding. I twisted my body, fighting against the ropes. “Let me go! I have to save Maria! Richard, you monster!” The pressure on my wrists suddenly intensified. Richard himself stepped forward, snatched an electric stun baton from one of his men, and jammed it into my side without a moment’s hesitation. Electricity convulsed through my body. Every bone felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. I collapsed to the floor, twitching, foam bubbling at my lips. But my eyes remained fixed on the closed door, in the direction where Maria was being held. 4 “Amelia, I suggest you cooperate,” Richard said, his voice like ice. “If you keep this up, you won’t just fail to save Maria; you’ll destroy the entire team’s reputation.” “Reputation?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “Is your reputation worth my daughter’s life?” His eyes flashed with fury. He raised his hand and slapped me again, a vicious, stinging blow that made my cheek swell instantly. “Shut her up!” he ordered his men. “Beat her until she doesn’t have the strength to make another sound!” The team members exchanged uneasy glances. They saw me, covered in blood, yet still glaring at Richard with pure hatred. A few of them instinctively took a step back. “Captain, if we keep going, she might…” “What are you waiting for?” Richard snapped. “She’s a madwoman! I’m her husband. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility.” That was all they needed to hear. All hesitation vanished. Fists rained down on my back, my legs, the pain so intense I almost blacked out. I bit down on my lip, my mind filled with the image from my past life: Maria, lying in a pool of her own blood. I can’t pass out. I can’t! If I go down, there will be no one left to save my daughter. I forced my head up and spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the face of the man closest to me. “You’re all accomplices! If Maria dies, I’ll haunt every last one of you!” Enraged, they hit me harder. Someone grabbed a steel pipe from the corner and brought it down hard on my knee. A sickening crack echoed in the small room. The pain was blinding. I saw black spots. Richard stepped forward and grabbed my chin. I summoned every last bit of my strength and bit down on his finger, hard enough to hear the bone snap. “Ah—you bitch!” he screamed, clutching his hand and kicking me away. “I’m telling you now,” I gasped, “I will make sure everyone knows what you did today. I’ll show the world that this rescue team is nothing but a pack of animals.” Richard just sneered and turned to his men. “Get it.” One of them pulled a glass bottle from a tool bag. It was filled with a pale yellow liquid that gave off a sharp, acrid stench. My pupils contracted. A terrifying chill shot through me. “Richard! What are you doing?!” “What am I doing?” He laughed coldly, advancing on me. “You love to scream, don’t you? Let’s see how you talk when your throat is burned out.” His men swarmed me, pinning my arms and legs, clamping a hand over my mouth. I struggled, tears and blood mixing on my face, but my strength was pathetic against these men.

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My husband, who I kept secret from the world, suddenly developed a split personality. His eighteen-year-old self raged at me: “I have a girlfriend! I’m going to find her!” He didn’t know that his precious high school sweetheart had cheated on him. I played along, coaxing his teenage self into signing the divorce papers. But then, his twenty-eight-year-old self resurfaced, cold and ruthless: “He signed it, not me. It doesn’t count.” Later, I found a note he left for his younger self. “Rule 1: Win my wife back.” “Rule 2: If you can’t win her back, get lost.” 1 On our first wedding anniversary, Caleb Vance didn’t go to the office. Instead, he personally cooked a table full of dishes. I ignored him, opened the door, and grabbed my Uber Eats order. Steam rose from the home-cooked meal, fogging up Caleb’s glasses. “Lily, do we have to do this?” “Are we expecting guests?” I put my takeout on the table and sat down, expressionless. Caleb took off his glasses with one hand. “Today is our anniversary. Don’t be like this.” He walked over and hugged me from behind. “I admit I was wrong back then, but it’s been three years. What are you still unhappy about?” He was more mature and tempered than when we first met. But I couldn’t stand how easily he tried to brush over the past. I stepped on his sore spot. “I think you’re too old.” Caleb didn’t speak. He tilted my chin up with one hand and held the back of my head with the other, kissing me fiercely, almost cruelly. I bit his lip. The taste of rust spread in my mouth. He frowned in pain. “It’s only five years,” he murmured against my lips, loosening his grip. I insisted on provoking him. “When you were in college, I was still in middle school.” Caleb couldn’t take it anymore. He picked me up and walked towards the bedroom. “I like you more than college.” 2 I woke up in the middle of the night. The sheets beside me were still warm, but he was gone. I grabbed a t-shirt, threw it on, and went to the kitchen for water. Caleb was eating with his back to me, his movements urgent. I leaned against the wall. “Hungry already? Need to recharge?” He spun around, looking like he’d seen a ghost, then whipped back around, howling. “You! Why are you awake?!” “Put some clothes on! You wicked woman!” What is wrong with him? I ignored his tantrum and went back to the bedroom. Just as I was drifting off, Caleb poked my cheek repeatedly. I slapped his hand away. “What?” “How much money do you want?” He looked around nervously, whispering, “Let me go, and I won’t call the police.” “If you’re sick, go to the hospital. I don’t have time for your drama.” I yelled, burying myself under the covers, turning my back to him. Caleb pulled me back over. “This is false imprisonment!” Since when does this law-breaking CEO care about the law? He continued, “Call my grandfather. He’ll give you money.” Caleb’s grandfather died two years ago. He respected his grandfather the most and hated when anyone mentioned him. I finally sat up and looked at him properly. His usually calm eyes were now full of boundless energy and curiosity. And a hint of pure stupidity. He smirked, a cocky, boyish grin. “I know I’m handsome, but I have a girlfriend.” I vaguely remembered Caleb dating someone in his teens. She cheated on him, and I mocked him about it for ages. I asked tentatively, “How old are you?” He said, “Eighteen.” What a coincidence. Exactly five years younger than me. 3 “You have amnesia. You’re twenty-eight.” “Back then, your dad didn’t approve of your girlfriend and broke you up. You stayed faithful to her, but later, family pressure forced you into a fake marriage with me. We have no feelings for each other.” I pulled out our marriage certificate. Neither of us was smiling in the photo. Teenage Caleb was stunned. “Without a girlfriend… does that mean I’m a billionaire CEO now?” I answered honestly, “You gave up your inheritance. Your dad’s illegitimate son is running the company.” His eyes widened. “Am I crazy?” I thought so too. Years ago, he was in the inner circle but suddenly gave it all up to start from scratch. But he was capable. In just one year, he made a name for himself. Caleb stared at the ceiling until dawn, finally accepting reality. He said, “I’m going to find my girlfriend. We’re going to get back together.” That was perfect. I dug under the mattress and pulled out the divorce papers I’d been hiding. “Sign this.” Caleb stared at the papers, then looked straight at me. My heart pounded. Suddenly, he shook his head violently. “No way! You’re the only person I know right now. If we have no feelings and I sign this, you’ll just dump me on the street. Who will I cry to then?” Although that was my plan. “How about this,” I negotiated. “I’ll take you to your ex-girlfriend. Once I return you to her, we can part ways amicably.” Caleb rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, and nodded. 4 Despite not sleeping all night, Caleb was full of energy. He stood by the closet, picking through clothes with disdain. “Why are they all suits? So old-fashioned.” He found a tracksuit from god knows where and changed into it. I switched tabs on my screen and looked at him. He was usually cold. Now, his eyes were smiling, round and bright, showing white teeth. He ran a hand through his messy black hair—wild, arrogant, undeniably boyish. “What are you doing?” He walked over, grabbed sunglasses from my desk, and put them on. “Cool, right?” Childish. I ignored him, but he squeezed in to look at my screen. A girl had just messaged me. [Master, I miss my ex so much. I can’t live without him.] I didn’t hide it from Caleb. I typed: [He will ruin your financial fortune.] A second later, she replied: [Thanks, Master. I’m suddenly over him :)] Caleb’s expression went from curious to speechless. “Master?” I raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to know what I do? I solve emotional problems.” “Is that your job?” I nodded. He leaned against the desk, looking down at me with a hint of rebellion. “So you’re unemployed? How did I end up with someone like you?” It was all his fault anyway. I rolled my eyes internally and packed up. “Stop dawdling. Let’s go find your ex.” 5 I confirmed the address and knocked. The door opened. A little girl leaned out, saw Caleb, and screamed in delight: “Daddy! You’re back!” She ran out and hugged Caleb’s leg. “Huh?” Caleb’s eyes popped out. He pointed at himself. “Me?” I stepped back, frowning. “You have a secret daughter?” Caleb waved his hands frantically. “No, no, I don’t! We must have the wrong house.” He squatted down, trying to be patient. “Kid, I’m not your…” A beautiful woman’s voice came from inside: “Caleb?” Caleb looked up, his voice trembling with fear. “Sophie?” Sophie, wearing loungewear, leaned against the doorframe and glanced at me. “Caleb, why did you bring her?” Before Caleb could speak, she covered her mouth, sniffled, and squeezed out a few tears. “You’re finally going to tell her clearly and give me and Sweetie a title, right?” She threw herself at him, hugging him tight. The three of them embraced, leaving me standing there like an outsider. Caleb pointed at the girl, disbelief filling his eyes. “She… is ours?” Sophie glared at him with resentment and pain. “I hid away and followed you for ten years, and now you doubt me?” The little girl blinked, looking between them, pouting. “Daddy, yesterday you promised to take me to Disneyland. Did Sweetie do something wrong?” It was obvious what was happening. I glared at Caleb, my eyes tearing up. “Caleb Vance! Cheating on me wasn’t enough? You have a child?!” “Working late? Busy at the company? All lies!” My scolding made Caleb turn red, his voice weak. “Wait… I shouldn’t be that much of a scumbag, right?” “Is there some misunderstanding?” I cut him off, throwing the divorce papers and a pen at him. “The facts are right here. Stop talking and sign.” 6 Teenage Caleb hadn’t learned to hide his emotions. He looked devastated. He looked at me pitifully, as if blaming me for dumping him so quickly. I touched my nose, avoiding eye contact. He picked up the pen with grief. Sophie and I watched him intently. Just as the pen tip touched the paper. Caleb suddenly looked up. He stared at Sophie’s eyes, then at Sweetie’s face. He stared for a long time, then jumped up, ran to me, and pointed at his own eyes. “Single eyelids are a recessive trait! I have single eyelids, Sophie has single eyelids. How could we produce a double-lidded kid?! That child is absolutely not mine!” Caleb patted his chest, letting out a huge sigh of relief, then lifted his chin proudly. “Ha! I knew I wasn’t that trashy.” My heart skipped a beat. I locked eyes with Sophie. Neither of us spoke. Caleb kept rambling in my ear: “See? There must be a misunderstanding. Don’t be so quick to divorce me.” He tried to take my hand, but I dodged. Sophie gave Caleb a strange look, then turned to the child. “Sweetie, go to your room, okay? Mommy and Daddy need to talk.” Sweetie nodded obediently. Sophie smiled until the door closed, then her face changed instantly. She walked over and slapped Caleb hard. Slap! The red mark bloomed on his face. He was stunned. I was stunned. Sophie’s voice dropped, vicious and raw: “Caleb Vance, what is the meaning of this? We agreed! That mistress would have the baby, take the money, and leave! I would be Sweetie’s mother!” “Are you in contact with that woman again? How could you do this to me? I already treat Sweetie like my own daughter. Are you trying to take her away from me?” She choked up, leaning against the wall, hugging her knees and sobbing. Caleb’s smile froze. He stood there like a statue, brain short-circuiting. After a long time, he turned his stiff neck to look at me, voice hoarse like a kicked puppy. “Is that true?” I lowered my eyes and didn’t answer. Silence was taken as confirmation. Caleb’s posture collapsed. He closed his eyes and laughed bitterly. “So I turn into such a terrible person.” A child who can’t accept reality runs away. He stepped back, bumped into someone, muttered an apology without looking, and ran out stumbling. The man he bumped into brushed his suit, his deep eyes landing on the crying Sophie. He pulled her into his arms. “What happened? Why are you crying?” “Did Caleb bully you?” Sophie glanced around like a thief, her sad face instantly replaced with a sweet smile as she snuggled into him. “It’s nothing, honey. Just playing around.” She walked over, linking arms with me, beaming. “Lily, how was that? Oscar-worthy, right?” “Best Actress.” I gave her a sincere thumbs up, patted her hand, and said, “I’m going to check on Caleb. See you later.” Sophie’s husband, Dr. Julian, nodded at me and led Sophie inside. 7 I chased Caleb to the roof. Is he going to jump? I huffed and puffed my way up. Pushing open the door, I saw Caleb sitting against the low wall, head hanging. Hearing me, he glanced over with red eyes, then looked away awkwardly. I felt guilty, like I was bullying a child. I dragged my tired body over, intending to sit next to him, but he stopped me. He took off his jacket, spread it on the dirty floor, and patted it. “Sit.” The wind blew, blurring Caleb’s voice. He said: “My biggest dream was to get into college and marry someone I loved deeply.” “Why did I become like this?” An eighteen-year-old boy, full of hope for the future, crushed by the reality we forced on him. I felt shame. I used to be like him, longing for a career I loved and a person I adored. Then Caleb destroyed it all. Did he feel guilty then? I didn’t know. The Caleb who did it had forgotten everything. His eyes were full of confusion, like a student asking a difficult question. “Did I marry the person I love deeply?” “Does twenty-eight-year-old me love you?”

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In the sixth year of our marriage, my husband Caleb Sterling cheated on me with Ava White, a student I was sponsoring through college. His excuse? He had developed Dissociative Identity Disorder. The “host” personality loved the current me, but the “alter” personality loved Ava, who reminded him of me at 18. When Ava got pregnant, the brutal truth was revealed, and we had a massive fight. Caleb said casually, “The one sleeping with Ava is the old me. The current me still loves you. Jane, what are you unsatisfied with?” He forgot. The “old him” once knelt outside his mother’s house for 24 hours just to marry me. In my past life, I couldn’t accept the betrayal, nor could I bring myself to divorce him. I ended up committing suicide due to depression. When I opened my eyes again, I looked at Caleb trying to coax me. “Let’s get a divorce.” 1 Caleb’s hands paused as he fastened my necklace. He acted as if nothing had happened, finishing the clasp and looking at me in the mirror. “Jane, it’s your birthday. Let’s not talk about depressing things.” I met his gaze in the reflection. The lighting in the room was dim. Caleb, with his arm loosely around my shoulders, had his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing a silver watch with chipped paint—completely out of place with his noble aura. It was a gift I gave him when I was 19. A watch worth a couple hundred bucks. Caleb Sterling, worth billions, had worn it for over a decade. That’s why in my past life, I never understood until the moment I died. Why, after we finally made it through the hard times, did he cheat with Ava White? And why invent such a ridiculous excuse like “split personality”? It wasn’t until Ava got pregnant and tried to usurp my position that the truth came out. Caleb and I had a breakdown fight. But he remained nonchalant. “The one sleeping with Ava is the old me. The current me still loves you. Jane, what are you unsatisfied with?” How could I be satisfied? The old Caleb knelt for a day and a night just to get his mother’s approval to marry me. He could have just told me he cheated. We could have parted ways cleanly. But he chose to play me like a fool. In my past life, I couldn’t divorce him, but I couldn’t accept the betrayal. I ended my life in depression. The irony? While my blood stained the sheets and I stopped breathing, Caleb was happily celebrating his son’s first birthday with Ava. For a moment, the dizziness of blood loss from my past life hit me. I pressed down on the ache in my chest. “It’s not about being depressing. Consider it your last birthday gift to me.” “Mr. Sterling, let’s end this.” Caleb wasn’t overly surprised. He just analyzed the situation logically: “Jane, if news of a divorce gets out, it will hurt Sterling Corp’s image. The stock will plummet. Investors for current projects might pull out.” “So divorcing now does more harm than good for both of us.” I should have known. People like Caleb are sharper and colder than anyone. Love three parts, keep seven parts for yourself. The three parts of love I felt in my past life were just illusions I burned myself to chase. 2 I looked at him calmly. “If you’re unwilling, I don’t mind tomorrow’s headlines reading: Sterling Corp CEO Cheats with Wife’s Sponsored Student, Invents Split Personality Excuse.” “Are you threatening me?” “It affects the stock price either way. Why wouldn’t I choose the option that benefits me?” Caleb was silent for a long time before finally agreeing to the divorce. Before leaving, he glanced back at me, a smirk on his lips. “As expected of someone I taught. You’ve learned how to manipulate people perfectly.” Caleb was the most notorious playboy of our generation. Born into old money in New York, relying on his good looks, countless girls threw themselves at him. And me? I had just gotten into NYU from a small town in the Midwest, clutching the few thousand dollars I earned working in a factory, carrying scars, escaping a suffocating home. We were from two different worlds, with no intersection. But I forced an intersection. It was at a high-end club where I sold alcohol. The manager sent me and my friend Tess to the penthouse suite. Pushing open the door, I saw Caleb sitting in the corner. He was leaning back on the sofa, swirling a glass of wine with his long fingers. The ripples in the glass looked like my heartbeat. Halfway through the night, someone got drunk and groped Tess. She started crying. The man, annoyed, raised his hand to slap her. I blocked his hand, my eyes full of stubborn resilience. “Groping first, now hitting? Have you no shame?” The man was enraged. He raised his other hand to slap me. That’s when a laughing voice cut through the air: “Is she wrong?” Casual, yet condescending. I looked up and met Caleb’s amused eyes. My heart skipped a beat. I knew I had won the bet. And I knew he saw through my clumsy ploy. A calculated “accident.” It’s hard to say who made the first move. I used Caleb’s influence to climb up, fighting for a place in this glittering city. Caleb taught me the ways of the world, hand in hand. He took me through endless social events. In those years, we flew back and forth between New York and London countless times. The drawer was full of plane tickets. We went from play-acting to real feelings. Caleb’s introduction of me changed slowly too. “My friend, Jane.” “My girlfriend, Jane.” “My wife, Jane.” … I took off the necklace and looked at myself in the mirror. Caleb was wrong about one thing. Stripped of the jewelry and makeup, I was still that sensitive, insecure Jane from the mountains. That’s why I died of depression in my last life. After spending ten years becoming Mrs. Sterling, how could I let go willingly? To say I have no regrets would be a lie. But I won’t make the same mistake twice. 3 Sterling Corp’s legal team—nicknamed the “Wall Street Wolves”—quickly drafted the divorce agreement. Assets split 50/50. Caleb would pay me 50 million dollars in alimony annually until my death. When the agreement was handed to me, Caleb looked at me with a complex expression. “Jane, this is my compensation to you. After all these years, I failed you.” Tabloids often said Mr. Sterling was a classic ambitious man, expert at psychological games. Like now. As he spoke, redness crept into the corners of his eyes. Caleb was playing the emotional card, betting I would soften. “No objections. I’ll sign.” I signed without hesitation. Caleb stared at the signed paper, stunned. The sharp edge of the paper cut his finger, but he didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t understand. Why did I abandon him so easily, giving up our ten-year relationship? Divorce procedures in New York are complicated, and Caleb loved playing tricks. On the day of the hearing, I drove to the court. Getting out of the car, I saw Caleb and Ava standing at the entrance. Ava wore a white cotton dress with a cardigan. From a distance, she looked a bit like me. To be precise. She looked like 18-year-old Jane. Innocent, yet hiding a flicker of ambition. “Sister Jane, you don’t mind me accompanying Mr. Sterling, do you?” Ava held Caleb’s arm, her eyes full of provocative triumph. I remembered the shy little girl who used to call me sister. Because I came from poverty, I knew how unfair the world could be to girls from poor backgrounds. So I sponsored many girls’ education. Ava was one of them. Maybe to make up for my own youth, I treated Ava like a sister. I took her to every event. Like Caleb taught me, I taught her social etiquette, hired tutors for her. I didn’t know the girl I treated as a sister had decided to replace me and become the second “Jane” from the moment she arrived in New York. Even if I knew then, I would have laughed at her delusion. But I forgot. Caleb loves girls like this. Seemingly smart, but actually a blank slate for him to paint his colors on. After all, wasn’t I just like that at 18? Self-righteous, a little clever, daringly naive. I became his prey early on. After a lifetime of struggle, I ended up dying of depression. 4 Seeing my silence, Caleb shook off Ava and reached for my hand: “Jane, if you regret it, we can…” I dodged his touch, glancing at Ava’s slight baby bump. “What? Want your son to be a bastard?” Ava looked at Caleb expectantly. Caleb didn’t even glance at her, staring straight at me. “If you don’t like it, she can abort it.” “If you hate her, I’ll send her away from New York immediately.” Ava lost her arrogance instantly. I felt no joy in victory. Only a sliver of pity for Ava. You can want anything from Caleb, but never bet on his heart. I didn’t see it in my last life. Ava doesn’t see it now. … The divorce decree came down quickly. Walking out, Caleb was still dazed, unable to understand: “Jane, I lied about the split personality so you wouldn’t be sad about the affair.” “But how can you be so cruel? Divorcing me so cleanly—” I smirked. “Did I hold a knife to your neck and force you to sleep with Ava?” He was silent. I had no desire to continue entangling with him and walked away. Caleb chased after me. “Are you going back to LA?” “None of your business.” “Stay in New York. You have nowhere else to go,” he said to himself. “Whatever you need in the future, just say the word, and I’ll handle it.” His tone was certain I would stay. But he forgot. I gave up everything in LA to stay in New York for him. Now I can leave just as decisively. I turned back, eyes cold. “Caleb, I actually hate New York.” He didn’t seem to understand. But it didn’t matter. I walked away fast. Fast enough that when Caleb reached out to grab my dress, his hand grasp only air. He caught nothing. 5 I drove away. In the rearview mirror, Ava and Caleb were arguing. Looking away, I remembered when I first discovered Caleb’s affair with Ava. I cried until I shook, asking him why it had to be Ava. Anyone else would have been fine. Why Ava, whom I treated like a sister? So when Caleb lied about having DID… I forced myself to believe it. I knew how flimsy the excuse was. But I was unwilling to accept it. I couldn’t handle the double betrayal. Over time, I almost believed he really was sick. Until the truth was revealed, and I broke down completely. I dragged it out until death, refusing to divorce. Because of unwillingness, because of love. We survived his mother’s opposition, supported each other through Sterling Corp’s lows… We finally stood at the top of the pyramid, happiness within reach. How could I let go? Sometimes, exhausted from arguing, I would remember the year Caleb cut ties with his family for me, the year I accompanied him in his startup. That night, after earning his first pot of gold, a drunk Caleb leaned on my shoulder and mumbled: “Jane, I want to marry you so bad.” Whatever the beginning was… The love in our youth was real. The fickleness now is also real. So after settling affairs in New York, I immediately boarded a flight to LA. Passing security, I looked back instinctively. Not sure what I was looking at. The me who died unwillingly in the past life, or the ten years wasted on Caleb… Finally, I saw the night Caleb proposed. The smooth operator of the business world, his hands trembling as he opened the ring box. “Jane, stay.” “Stay in New York, marry me. Let’s live a good life together.” Caleb, I really hated New York. But it was your home, so I stayed. Now that we’ve parted ways… There’s no reason to stay. So Mr. Sterling, I must go. In this life, my love ends here.

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I found my husband in the storage room with a woman from the assembly line. When I rushed in, he shoved me back, his eyes flashing with raw annoyance. “So what if a guy needs to blow off a little steam? Don’t make a scene, Ellie. I’m about to be promoted to section chief, and you’re just a housewife who couldn’t feed herself without me. Who gave you the right to come down here?” Unlike my frantic breakdown, the other woman’s husband, a quiet, broad-shouldered man I vaguely recognized, simply lifted his eyes. “Why?” he asked. The single word hung there, heavier than any shout. Chelsea Lowe, the woman, pulled her work uniform back on with a dismissive roll of her eyes. “You’re never home. All you do is shove cash at me, and you couldn’t even get me a decent benefits package. I don’t want a pile of cash, I want stability. A life. And a husband who’s present. Am I wrong to ask for that?” Overnight, we became the laughingstock of Stanton Steel Mill. The morning I finalized the divorce, dragging my battered suitcase out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, I saw the tall, broad-shouldered man standing outside the courthouse, his eyes wide and unbelievably lost. On a desperate, unhinged impulse, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “I want a lot of money,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I want security. Look at me. Do you think I’d… suffice?” … Calvin Walker—Cal—flashed with surprise. He just stared at me, saying nothing, and I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. We knew each other, though barely. We’d been in the same eighth-grade class. I was the class president, meticulous and organized. He was the student treasurer, quiet and focused. We hadn’t exchanged a single word since graduation. And here we were, meeting again in the aftermath of a disaster—my husband and his wife caught red-handed. The atmosphere was unbearable, and I was just about to stammer out that my offer was a sick joke, when he spoke. “I’m an independent contractor,” Cal said, his eyes fixed on the pavement. “I’m on the road constantly. I won’t be able to give you a lot of my time, and I won’t be able to ‘care for you’ in the traditional sense. But I will send home every dime I make. You will never have to worry about money again.” I froze. Was he… serious? Cal pressed his lips into a thin line, a light red creeping up his neck. He looked profoundly uncomfortable. “I still live with my mother and my younger brother and sister. They keep to themselves, you don’t have to worry about them bothering you. But… if anything difficult happens, a household crisis… I’d be grateful if you could look out for them.” I nodded automatically. “Of course. They’d be family.” The words hung in the air, causing both of us to stop short and blush fiercely. Cal—all six-foot-three of him—stood there and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Then… let’s go,” he mumbled. It wasn’t until we walked out of the Justice of the Peace office, a brand-new marriage certificate clutched in my hand, that I fully processed the last twenty-four hours. This morning, I’d divorced Gary Miller. This afternoon, I’d married a stranger based on a transaction. Ellie Stone, you’ve truly lost your mind. Cal naturally took my suitcase. We turned a corner and were suddenly standing in front of his house. A teenage boy burst out the door, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing red. Close behind him was a shy, timid little girl who’d clearly been crying. “Cal! She took everything that wasn’t bolted down! The dress you bought for Daisy, she even snatched that!” Cal was instantly focused on soothing his younger siblings. I stood to the side, feeling like a clumsy intruder. When he finally calmed them down, he turned to me, his expression full of genuine guilt. “I have to leave for the city tonight. I’m so sorry. Our first day of marriage and I have to…” I waved a hand dismissively. “Work is important.” He gave me another round of worried instructions, then picked up his travel bag. He made it to the mouth of the alley before stopping. After a long hesitation, he spun around, took two massive strides back to me, and gave me a lightning-quick, one-armed hug. “Wait for me,” he said. The scent of simple, clean laundry soap hit me—the kind you use on heavy work clothes. My heart skipped a beat. I watched until his silhouette vanished completely, then slowly walked into the small yard. Cal’s mother, Ma Walker, frail and bent, came out to greet me, her eyes full of profound anxiety. “Child, Cal told me everything. You’ll stay in this room. Sam does the heavy work, and Daisy cooks a simple meal. We won’t be any trouble to you.” I glanced at Sam and Daisy, neither of whom reached my shoulder, and let out a quiet sigh. I’d grown up in the same industrial park—I knew the Walker family’s story. Their father had died in a mill accident, leaving behind an old mother and two minors. It was heartbreaking. I offered them a gentle smile, a smile that was also for myself. “I’m married into this family now. We’re one. Don’t talk like strangers.” I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the tiny kitchen, where I was immediately stunned. There was a full-sized electric refrigerator humming quietly in the corner. I remembered how the Mill Director had bragged for weeks when he got his. Gary had just called me crazy when I suggested we buy one. It seemed this ‘independent contractor’ really was making money. Using what ingredients I could find, I quickly whipped up four bowls of simple chicken sandwiches and fried a few eggs. Sam and Daisy silently bowed their heads, devouring the food. Ma Walker was overwhelmed, gripping my hand and repeating, “You shouldn’t have, child. You shouldn’t have.” I felt a sudden, unexpected warmth spread through me. It was the first solid, peaceful meal I’d eaten since I discovered Gary’s betrayal. I noticed Daisy’s hair was matted and sticky, and casually offered to wash it for her after dinner. All three of them looked up at me, their expressions suddenly shifting. Before I could ask why, the front gate exploded open with a crash. “I didn’t believe it when they told me! Eleanor Stone, you really are here!” My mother stormed into the yard, her face thunderous, with a few nosy neighborhood women trailing behind her. I rose to meet her. “Mom, what are you doing here?” She rushed into the yard, pointing a finger directly at my nose. “What am I doing here? I heard about Gary! What man doesn’t fool around a little? And you, you just divorced him! Now that gold-digger Chelsea has him cornered—I hear she’s forcing him to set a wedding date!” I took a deep breath. “Mom, Gary was caught with another woman in the storage room. The whole plant saw it!” She cut me off impatiently. “So what! What good is your pride when you’re out on the street? And now this! You married Cal Walker! Everyone knows his family is dirt poor, with a sickly old mother and two drain-on-the-system siblings!” My face went cold. “It’s too late. I’m already married to him.” She stomped her foot in fury. “You’re an idiot! Your father and I chose Gary Miller for you—a Union man, a technical position, such stability! Now you’re stuck with a traveling salesman who has no benefits and no fixed job!” My voice dropped to a level of icy calm I didn’t know I possessed. “Cal doesn’t have a Union job. But at least he respects me. That makes him better than Gary, a thousand times over.” Ma Walker shuffled forward, trying to placate her. “In-law, Ellie is a good girl. We may be poor, but we will never mistreat her. Cal is a quiet man, but his heart is honest…” “You shut your mouth!” My mother shot Ma Walker a look of pure contempt, then turned back to me. “Fine. Your wings are grown. I can’t stop you! But you’ll come crawling back to me when you’re broke!” She slammed the gate shut as she left, leaving a ring of gossiping neighbors. I simply bowed my head and continued eating. For five years with Gary, I’d been a puppet: cooking, cleaning, waiting. And for what? At least now, for the first time, I had made a choice for myself. The days settled into a strange rhythm. Cal’s letters arrived every week, rain or shine, a short update on his travels and work. His handwriting was beautiful, I remembered that from eighth grade. I wrote back, telling him everything was fine at home. It was odd—we’d known each other for years, married after a day, yet we communicated with a strange, easy synchronicity. Ma Walker was frail but never complained. Sam, at thirteen, was incredibly responsible. Daisy, meanwhile, simply began to shadow me. I heated water on the stove and was washing her hair when she suddenly whispered, “Ellie, you’re so nice.” I paused. “Was… was your old sister-in-law not nice?” Daisy went silent. Sam, standing nearby, scoffed. “She hated us. Said we were dirty. Complained we made the house look cheap. All she did was argue with Cal and demand money.” A sharp pang hit me. I could understand Chelsea’s desire for security, for a better life. But destroying two families to get it, and taking it out on two children, was a different kind of wrong. I ruffled Daisy’s clean hair. “I’m your sister-in-law now. We’re a family.” Daisy suddenly turned and hugged me. Sam stood stock-still, but the light in his eyes was bright and clear. I started to think that this quiet life was better than anything I’d known—a peaceful, if uncertain, existence. Until Chelsea Lowe showed up at the gate. “Oh, this yard is just as depressing as I remember.” I put down the laundry I was folding and walked out. There she was. She surveyed the small yard with a look of utter disdain. Ma Walker stepped out of the kitchen, her face instantly pale. “What do you want?” Chelsea gave a cold smile. “Mrs. Walker, I’m in the Mill Administration’s Property Division now. And according to Mill policy, housing is only for active employees and their immediate, dependent family. Cal is an independent contractor. You no longer qualify to live here.” I gently pushed the furious Sam behind me and stepped forward. Chelsea looked me up and down with a sneer. “Ellie Stone. I can’t believe you actually married into this. What, Gary dumped you, so you were desperate enough to pick up his trash?” “Show some respect,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. She laughed, a thin, brittle sound. “I’m doing my job. You have until the end of the month to vacate. The Mill needs to reclaim this property for redistribution. Honestly, you should be happy. This place is a dump.” Chelsea stalked off in her high heels. I placed a calming hand on Ma Walker’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. What she says isn’t the final word.” I changed my clothes and headed straight to the Mill. The huge, gray main gates looked exactly the same. “Well, well. If it isn’t Eleanor Stone.” I stopped. Gary Miller was standing there, his smile widening. “Can’t stand that shithole house? I heard Chelsea is kicking you out. Told you that traveling man couldn’t hold a candle to me. Regretting it yet?” I met his eyes, saying nothing. His grin became predatory. “Look, if you’re really desperate… For old times’ sake, I could help you out. No title, of course—Chelsea and I are getting married next month. But I could find you a little place, somewhere you could occasionally keep me company…” I lifted my chin. “Gary Miller, do you have any shame?” His face hardened. “Don’t play high and mighty with me, Ellie. You’re a divorcee who married a trucker—a piece of used goods. Don’t pretend you’re above anything.” A small crowd was starting to gather. My head was pounding, my body trembling with rage. But I didn’t turn away like I used to. Instead, I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m divorced. I married a contractor. But I work for everything I have. I don’t steal, I don’t cheat, and I don’t destroy families. You? Caught with your pants down, a laughingstock. Did you get that section chief promotion? No. Now Chelsea is forcing you into marriage, and your mother’s in the hospital from the stress. Who has the pride now?” Gary’s face went scarlet. He lunged forward to grab me. I instinctively stepped back, right into the path of the Mill Director, Mr. Henderson, who was just leaving the commissary. My mind clicked. I charged forward, cutting him off. “Mr. Henderson! I’m Eleanor Stone, Cal Walker’s wife. I apologize for stopping you, sir, but I need to ask you, in front of all these good people, for justice!” The courtyard went silent. Mr. Henderson frowned. “Ms. Stone, let’s discuss this in my office.” I shook my head, setting my jaw. “It needs to be said in the light! This!” I held up a piece of yellowed paper. “This is the official seven-year-old Worker’s Comp. agreement for Mr. Walker’s father, who died in the line of duty! And this is the Mill Committee’s resolution!” The crowd swelled. My hands were shaking, but I forced my fists tight and kept my head high. “Mr. Henderson! Fellow workers! Mr. Walker gave his life to this Mill! He left behind a sickly wife and two minor children. The Mill promised to care for them! And now, because his son, Cal, is not a full-time Union employee, the Administration wants to throw this family out of the home they’ve lived in for fifteen years! Is that what you call justice? Is that what this Mill stands for?” A roar of chatter erupted. Old workers were nodding, their faces full of sympathy. “You can’t take that house!” someone yelled. “Old Man Walker was a good man!” “This is a disgrace!” Mr. Henderson’s face was dark. Chelsea, having heard the commotion, rushed over, her face panicked. “Ellie! What are you doing? The housing rule is Mill policy!” I shot her a cold look. “Chelsea, you’re misusing your small piece of authority. Are you doing this for policy, or because you’re still bitter? You stole everything valuable from that house when you left—aren’t you afraid of karma?” Chelsea was choked into silence. Mr. Henderson finally spoke, his voice booming. “Mr. Walker was a dedicated worker! The Mill’s commitment to his family is forever binding! You will not be moving! We will look into the Property Division’s actions immediately! Ms. Stone, does that satisfy you?” I knew a victory when I saw one. I thanked him profusely and spun around, heading for the exit. When I reached the quiet alley, my legs went weak, and I nearly collapsed. All my life, I’d listened to my parents, then my husband. I was the master of passive compliance. If my divorce was my first act of defiance, this was my first act of strength. I finally had people I was willing to fight for. The house was saved, but the Mill Director confrontation became the new gossip. Everywhere I went, people whispered. Thanks to Gary and Chelsea’s mudslinging, the story had been twisted: I was the unhinged harpy who’d made Gary’s life hell. Cal was the abusive, broke slob. They were the tragic, destined couple. I just scoffed. There was truly no limit to shamelessness. Chelsea even sent a wedding invitation. I tucked it into my purse. “Go? Of course, I’m going,” I told Ma Walker. “A free meal is a free meal.” Their wedding was at the finest banquet hall in town. Rumors flew that Chelsea had demanded an engagement ring, a brand-new car, and five thousand dollars in cash. The whole town was buzzing. Gary had given my parents three thousand dollars years ago, and my mother had bragged for a month. Chelsea was going out in style. I arrived with Sam and Daisy. Chelsea spotted me immediately and glided over. “Well, look who came. I heard your husband hasn’t sent a letter in over a month. Did he lose his shirt and decide not to come home?” I rolled my eyes and took a seat under the curious gazes of the crowd. Gary, already red-faced and tipsy, leaned close to me. “Ellie, I never meant to divorce you. It was just a fling. You had to make a scene, and look what happened. All this—the money, the title—it should’ve been yours. Now you’re with that bum. My buddy saw Cal down south. He’s flat broke. He won’t show his face here.” I gave him a look of cold dismissal and told Sam and Daisy to focus on their meal. Gary slunk away, nursing his pride. As the champagne flowed and the sickeningly sweet toasts continued, Gary’s face grew redder, and Chelsea leaned against him, the picture of smug triumph. I took it all in, meeting every judging stare. Then the restaurant door burst open. The three neighborhood women who’d followed my mother came charging in. “Ellie! Go home! Your husband is back!” I snapped my head up. But Mrs. Henderson, her mouth set in a grim line, grabbed my arm. “Ellie! Stop eating! Cal… your Cal… something terrible has happened!” My heart slammed against my ribs. “Mrs. Henderson, what is it? Did he have an accident?” She couldn’t articulate it. Finally, she slapped her thigh. “I can’t explain! Just get your things, take Sam and Daisy, and hurry!” My face went pale. I threw down my fork, grabbed the kids, and sprinted out the door. Gary and Chelsea exchanged a look and, with no hesitation, followed. The lavish wedding reception instantly emptied out. A massive, anxious crowd streamed out of the banquet hall and down the alley behind me. I reached the mouth of the alley and my breath hitched. My eyes went wide with disbelief.

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I’ve been married to Vincent Leech for almost a year, and he has never touched me. Every morning, before he leaves for work, I knot his tie for him. Then I move behind him, slipping his suit jacket gently onto his broad shoulders. He always turns then, leans in close, and presses a deep, tender kiss onto my eyes. That is the only physical contact we ever have. Our marriage is a transaction. I love his money. He loves my eyes. 1 Every day, I visit a boy named Liam at a long-term care facility. He lies in bed day after day, unconscious, breathing through a ventilator. It’s the best facility in the northern part of the city, and the costs are astronomical. Every month, without fail, Vincent transfers the exact amount needed. Liam is my boyfriend. We grew up together in an orphanage. In the eyes of the world, we shared a single name: abandoned. He was tall and strong but was born with a limp in one leg. I was born with large, beautiful eyes, but a rare, incurable disease left my gaze vacant and unfocused. When we came of age, we left the orphanage together. With little education and our respective disabilities, finding work was a constant struggle. But Liam was always full of ideas. He bought a second-hand food cart and taught himself how to make crepes. Every night after we closed up, he would hunch over the rickety little table in our rented room, carefully tallying the day’s earnings. Liam’s greatest wish, he always said, was to save enough money to fix my eyes. One night, his phone rang. He didn’t even bother wiping the grease from his hands before scooping me up and spinning me around. “Nora, I have amazing news!” “They found a cornea match for you! It’s finally time!” “Your eyes, Nora! They can be saved!” It had started to snow. On that freezing winter night, the steam hissed from the crepe griddle on the deserted street. Two young people, laughing and jumping, finally fell into each other’s arms, holding on tight as the snow fell all around us. That night, Liam calculated the cost of the surgery. He said that after my eyes were healed, he would work even harder to give me a proper wedding. But the wedding never came. Only a nightmare. It was Liam’s birthday. I begged him to take the day off, but he refused. My surgery had cost a fortune, and the next six months of rent were due. Before he left that morning, Liam kissed my forehead hard. “Nora, I’ll close up early today. Wait for me!” He never came back. He was in a car accident on his way home. At the hospital, seeing him hooked up to a tangle of tubes, kept alive only by a machine, my heart shattered. The doctors told me to let him go. I stroked his hand, tears streaming down my face. He was only twenty-two. His hands were chapped and covered in pale yellow calluses. The constant steam from the griddle had made his eyelashes sparse and brittle. His thick lips were pale and perpetually cracked. I never got to be his wife. I never got to see the world with him. How could I just give up on him? Clutching a stack of overdue medical bills, I collapsed in the busy hospital corridor, sobbing. He had given every penny he had to heal my eyes. And now, I was supposed to sign a form that would end his life. A pair of expensive leather shoes appeared in my blurry vision. I looked up, my tear-filled gaze traveling up a pair of perfectly tailored trousers. A pair of obsidian eyes, shining and full of a startling tenderness, stared down at me. He leaned in. “Nora Blake. My name is Vincent Leech.” “I want you. Marry me, and I will give you anything you desire.” 2 Our marriage was met with fierce opposition from Vincent’s mother. She believed that a family of their stature should be joined with a socialite of equal standing, not some no-name girl from an orphanage. In the end, Vincent threatened to take his own life, and she reluctantly agreed. At the wedding, the officiant asked loudly, “Mr. Leech, do you take this woman, Nora Blake, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Vincent was silent. The entire venue fell quiet. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I believe you’ve made a mistake. The woman I am marrying is Miss Seraphina Vance.” A wave of murmurs swept through the guests. They were probably remarking on Vincent’s undying love for his old flame. And, perhaps, pitying me, the stand-in. The officiant gave an awkward laugh and glanced at me, as if asking for permission. Before I could speak, Vincent’s cold stare bore into him, and the officiant’s voice trembled as he corrected himself. “Mr. Leech, do you… do you take Miss Seraphina Vance to be your wife?” Vincent’s lips were a tight line, his throat working. Then he lifted his head, his bright eyes already brimming with tears. He looked deeply into my eyes and said, each word deliberate and heavy, “I do.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an elderly couple in the front row, wiping away tears. They must have been Seraphina’s parents. Seraphina Vance was Vincent’s one true love, the center of his universe. She had died of a heart condition the night before their wedding. Her final wish was to donate her corneas. Vincent had moved heaven and earth to find the recipient. The first time we met in that hospital corridor, he said he wanted me. How could he? We were strangers. He didn’t want me. He just wanted what was inside my eyes. It was the only living piece of his beloved Seraphina left in this world. He wanted to see it every day. To kiss it. Our marriage is a transaction. I love his money. He loves my eyes. 3 Every morning, before he leaves for work, I knot his tie and slip his jacket over his shoulders. And every morning, he turns and presses a deep, tender kiss onto my eyes. I thought that was all it would take. Let him kiss my eyes every day, and in return, I would get the money to keep Liam alive. I was so naive. After we were married, he forced me to wear backless dresses, to eat steak, to drink my coffee with sugar every morning. All things that Seraphina had loved. Worst of all, he made me learn the piano. He wanted me to play his favorite English songs for him. I had never touched an instrument in my life; I couldn’t learn that fast. Because my progress was too slow, he accused me of not trying hard enough and forbade me from visiting Liam. At the dinner table, I threw my spoon down in a rage. His voice was like a whip crack. “Quite the temper! Seraphina was never like this!” “Pick it up!” Seraphina again! My face was a cold mask. I sat there, unmoving, my back ramrod straight as hot tears streamed down my face. He walked over, his jaw tight. He patted my tear-stained cheek and hissed, “Don’t you regret this, Nora.” Ten minutes later, I got a call from the care facility. Liam’s condition had worsened. They had stopped his imported medication, and he was having an allergic reaction to the new one. I knew someone had pulled strings. I fell to my knees, sobbing, calling Vincent over and over. He rejected every call. The most dangerous thing in the world is to have a weakness. It makes you do things you never thought you would. Vincent had Seraphina. I had Liam. We were both prisoners of the ones we loved. After that, I never dared to throw a tantrum in front of him again. I practiced the piano relentlessly, my ten fingers blistering and bleeding until the keys were stained red. As the sun set, he would recline on the sofa, hands behind his head, a look of satisfaction on his face. When I finished a song, he would slowly emerge from his distant memories and return to me. He grabbed my wrist. His gaze swept over my bandaged, blood-stained fingers. “Does it hurt?” he asked softly. For a second, I thought he actually cared. I was about to say yes, but then I looked up and met his eyes. I saw the shimmering love in them, a love that was not for me. I forced a faint smile. “No. As long as you like it, it doesn’t hurt.”

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My wife and I both cheated. She was guilty, and so was I. But the difference was, she acted with malice; I was merely the victim. On the very night her affair with her boy-toy was exposed, she drugged me, stripped me naked, and delivered me to a stranger’s bed—a complete setup designed purely to manufacture my infidelity. The camera flashes, the forced, humiliating positions… all captured for evidence. Our manufactured cheating scandal and her real one were leaked to the public simultaneously. It was a calculated move to deflect the heat from her lover and spread the blame. A crushing, suffocating wave of nausea hit me, making me gag violently. I was covered in red marks, bruises—physical evidence of a violation I couldn’t remember. I didn’t know how many people had touched me, or what they had done. Seeing the horror on my face, and the way I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower, Geneva Pierce offered a flat, pathetic explanation. “I didn’t have a choice, Griffith. Andrew’s family is very strict. He couldn’t handle being called a home-wrecker. He would be ruined.” The internet was a torrent of condemnation. The scandal, the betrayal—it all triggered a heart attack in the only family I had left, Grandpa Arthur, who was rushed into emergency surgery. To protect myself, I had to protect her lie. As she wanted, I stood under the media spotlight and offered a calm, rehearsed clarification. “There was no infidelity. Geneva and I separated months ago.” … Seeing me fall in line, Geneva’s tension eased. She stood in the shadow of the doorway, having already whisked her lover away to safety. She gave me a hollow promise. “This is the only time. I promise. This situation with Andrew was sudden, I just…” I looked at her, my jaw tight with white-hot fury. “Tell me where these marks came from.” A hard knot of bile and anger choked me. I felt so unbelievably dirty. Pinch marks, yes, but others—like violent kisses. It felt like a freezing, utterly dehumanizing sexual encounter. By whom, I didn’t know. Raised with every privilege and shielded from real cruelty, I had never experienced this kind of raw, physical indignity. Geneva froze, taking a long moment to realize what I was asking. She rushed forward, desperate to spin the lie. “Don’t be afraid, Griffith. I put those marks there myself. No one else touched you. It was just for the photos.” I dug my nails into my palms. “If I were your lover—your precious Andrew—would you agree to let me have your name ruined, your body violated, just so I could protect my husband?” She avoided my eyes. “I don’t know. He… he’s different from you.” That was it. Whether I was her lover, her husband, or her crisis manager—I was never her priority. I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted blood, and then I shoved her out of my sight. Disgusting. Geneva and I were childhood sweethearts, a perfect match in our corporate world, the golden couple everybody envied. We were happy, once. We even had a few years of what I genuinely thought was a loving marriage. Then she started cheating. She never hid it from me privately, though she was always careful to keep up appearances for the public. “We’ll keep it quiet. It won’t affect your standing. No one outside the circle has to look down on you,” she’d insist. In our world, love was often secondary to alliance. I had loved her. I had raged. I’d even fantasized about going full alpha CEO—blowing up our lives in a spectacular, mutually assured destruction kind of way. But then I’d remember my upbringing, my family’s name, and my grandfather. I always chose to look the other way. I never thought my deference would allow them to hurt me this way. Grandpa Arthur must have been utterly devastated to land in the hospital. Geneva remembered her boy-toy couldn’t handle the heat, but she completely forgot that the man who loved her like a granddaughter had a bad heart and couldn’t handle that kind of shock. I quickly regained my focus. Divorce. It wasn’t the end of the world. I found Geneva at the company headquarters. The air was buzzing—everyone was fawning over Andrew. She led me to her office. When she saw the divorce papers in my hand, she frowned. “You don’t have to do this, Griffith. The gossip will blow over quickly.” She and Andrew were now openly affectionate in public, acting like star-crossed lovers who’d finally found their way to one another. I heard they’d even visited his family. They were living their ‘happily ever after.’ I bit my lip hard. While Grandpa was fighting for his life, Geneva hadn’t visited once. I felt a crushing sense of pity for my grandfather, who had adored her. Whenever we argued, Grandpa would always find an excuse for her, even scolding me. “Griffith,” he’d say. “I know you’re strong and logical, but love isn’t like that. Girls don’t like it when you’re always so cold and rational.” He believed that was the key to a harmonious home, not realizing a marriage fails when only one party is still fighting for it. Geneva had checked out a long time ago. What was the use of clinging to an empty shell? I held the pen out to her. “Do you think people are stupid? Sign the real papers. It’s the only way to silence the doubters and prevent Grandpa from being shocked again when he wakes up.” Andrew chimed in, annoyingly supportive. “Griffith’s right, Geneva.” Her expression softened slightly. “After the dust settles, we’ll remarry. I told you, your position will never change.” I just smiled, a small, cold curve of my mouth. I wouldn’t need it. The only reason I hadn’t filed for divorce earlier was the tangled web of our family businesses. Over the past few years, I’d been quietly and deliberately untangling those connections. I had Geneva to thank for that foresight. A few years back, Geneva, wanting to punish me for her lover, had deliberately leaked critical intelligence that killed an innovative subsidiary I had just launched. The reason? I had cut off one of my own credit cards, which Andrew happened to be using. He tried to pay for something expensive and was humiliated when the card was declined. Geneva didn’t ask questions; she just acted. She sat in her lounge chair, utterly unbothered. “Griffith Locklear, you used disgusting tactics to embarrass my Andrew. Anyway, it’s all community property, and those secrets were tied to our joint assets. I can handle them however I want.” My company tanked. A whole year of relentless work, down the drain. The employees were devastated. I flew into a rage, slamming my fist into the wall. “I didn’t do that! Are you even human? How am I supposed to face my employees? Do you have any idea the R&D time and effort that went into that project?” She wouldn’t listen. She was consumed by her desire to comfort a tearful Andrew. To force me to apologize, she leveraged her cash flow to put pressure on Grandpa Arthur’s main corporation. To protect the old man, I swallowed my pride. I reluctantly went to Andrew and apologized. Later, Geneva realized her mistake: she had grabbed my card thinking it was her own before giving it to Andrew. I had only paused my own line of credit. She apologized to me and tried to plan an anniversary dinner. “I didn’t realize I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll compensate you for the company, but you never explained it clearly to me.” I laughed, the sound hollow. She had never listened to my explanation, choosing instead to believe my guilt. The anniversary dinner never happened. Andrew had a headache. From that day forward, I systematically separated every single asset I owned from Geneva. After we completed the divorce application, Andrew clutched Geneva’s hand, petulant. “Let’s get married, right now, Geneva. You promised.” Geneva, however, was watching my face. Seeing my indifferent expression, her own face soured. I might have imagined it, but she looked subtly annoyed as she was pulled away by her eager lover. That same day, Grandpa Arthur woke up. He was desperate for the truth. “Did you really cheat on her?” I wiped his face gently. “No, Grandpa. We separated long ago. It was never infidelity.” He couldn’t comprehend it. “How could that be? You were such a perfect couple. Just recently, you promised me a great-grandchild.” He slammed his water glass onto the table. “Tell me the truth, Griffith. What happened to you two?” My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I stood by the lie. Seeing my carefully controlled pain, he seemed to realize something. He sighed heavily. “Never seen you look so reserved, boy. You’ve grown up. It’s no longer your old man’s business.” I finally breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Grandpa was okay, I could manage. He had such high hopes for Geneva. She was the one person in the world he wanted me to be with. Geneva arrived moments later. She stopped in the doorway, having overheard his last words. Afraid she would agitate him, I quickly pulled her into the adjoining room. She looked down. “You know, you could have told him the truth. You don’t have to protect my reputation. Then he wouldn’t put pressure on you. Griffith, we are the best partners, but the love is gone. Your grandfather is right: you’re too rational.” I nodded at the second half. For the first half, I gave her a cold smile. I wasn’t lying for her; I was lying so Grandpa wouldn’t be angry and wouldn’t feel guilty for having pushed us together. Keeping him stable was all that mattered. As for her? She meant nothing. Just as we were talking, Andrew’s shriek echoed from Grandpa’s room. “Grandpa! I was just being kind and coming to visit!” It was followed by Grandpa Arthur’s violent coughing. “Who allowed you in here… Get out!” My heart shot into my throat. I rushed back in. Grandpa had fallen out of bed, coughing violently, and pointing a shaky finger at Andrew. “Get out! You’re lying!” Andrew was cowering in Geneva’s arms, holding his face. Grandpa was now coughing up blood. He pointed at Geneva and Andrew, his eyes wide with rage, before finally losing consciousness. Terrified, I yelled for the nurse and he was rushed back to the ER. Outside the doors, Geneva immediately started a fight. “How could Grandpa strike someone? Look what he did to Andrew! No matter how angry he is, he can’t do that, especially when Andrew was only being kind!” Her grating, senseless noise made my head pound. “Enough! I’ll find out the truth. Don’t think I’ll let whatever he did go unpunished.” I glared at Andrew, wanting to tear him apart. Geneva blocked my view. “Griffith Locklear, Grandpa is completely in the wrong here—” She rattled on, blaming my grandfather and ignoring the possibility of the truth, stopping only when a doctor opened the door. “Family members?” I stepped forward. When I heard the doctor’s words, the disease notification slipped from my numb fingers. The last of my fragile control shattered. I lunged at Andrew. “What did you say to my grandfather?!” Geneva held me back with all her strength. “Griffith! Don’t put this on Andrew! He just came to visit. He’s incapable of doing anything to cause this!” My eyes were bloodshot. Geneva flinched. I realized then that my heart was utterly dead to her. The sensitive, emotional person they killed was the one they now accused of being too rational. I glared at them, cold fury radiating off me. “You wait.” I would get the truth and justice for Grandpa. There was a camera in the room, but Andrew, with his calculated mind, had positioned himself to block the view. All the recording showed was his back, his mouth moving, followed by Grandpa’s extreme anger and blood. Andrew immediately played the victim. “I just told him to take care of himself! The old man suddenly hit me! I’m the victim here!” It was a flimsy, pathetic lie. Grandpa never behaved like that. Andrew must have spewed some filth. I grabbed him, shaking him hard. “What did you say?! Who the hell allowed you to visit my grandfather? You’re nothing!” He feigned hurt, but his eyes held clear defiance. My grandfather was my only family, and my rage could no longer be contained. I hauled back and slapped him across the face. Andrew hadn’t expected the physical violence. He screamed. We grappled in a corner of the hospital hallway. He was no match for me; his lip was bleeding instantly. A crowd began to gather. Geneva finally managed to wrench my arm away. In a blind flash of fury, she slapped me. “Look at you! What are you doing? You look like a maniac!” Tears finally breached my control. I had maintained the image of the perfect young executive for my entire life, and I hated looking like a screaming fool, but this was my grandfather! I couldn’t be rational. Geneva, seeing me broken for the first time, attempted to play the magnanimous peacemaker. “Let’s just end this now. No more fighting.” I stared at her, my voice sharp and disbelieving. “Geneva Pierce, don’t you forget that my grandfather saved your life once.” Andrew, breathing heavily, wasn’t satisfied either. “He beat me up! Why should he get away with it?” Geneva pulled out a black card and gave it to him as compensation. She finally looked at me, a flicker of genuine shame in her eyes. “Andrew’s sudden visit was wrong, but he had no bad intentions. And you still beat him. I will make amends for Grandpa, but I will not allow you to interrogate Andrew like this. You have no proof he did anything wrong.” I stumbled backward, the sting on my face burning. “Geneva Pierce, the biggest regret of my life is meeting you.” I would find the proof. I had just let my guard down today. I never thought Andrew was depraved enough to hurt an old, sick man. Geneva’s brow furrowed. The next second, her own face snapped sideways. I hit her back. My face was not a free-for-all for anyone. Just then, medical staff rushed out. “Who is the family member? The patient needs to speak to the family. Come quickly.”

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After the Sterling family fell, Uncle Julian was diagnosed with ALS. I resigned from my commission, borrowed from loan sharks, and shouldered the heavy burden of Uncle Julian’s remaining life alone. For five years, Beaten by debt collectors until my ribs cracked, I couldn’t bear to buy painkillers. Fainted from exhaustion on the way to work, I couldn’t bear to rest. Every penny was used to extend Uncle Julian’s life. Until I was working as a waitress in a five-star hotel, I saw Uncle Julian, who should have been sitting in a wheelchair waiting for me to come home, Wearing a crisp military uniform, epaulets shining, chatting and laughing leisurely with old subordinates. “General Sterling, you’ve been faking this ALS for five years. Sarah is almost drained dry trying to cure you. Is this punishment enough?” Uncle Julian scoffed lightly, “About enough. If Sarah hadn’t been so willful, unable to tolerate Lily, causing her depression, I wouldn’t have used faking bankruptcy and terminal illness to grind her temper.” “Lily transferred to the D.C. base to gild her resume, her mood is finally better, and she agreed to forgive Sarah.” “In a while, I’ll have the medical team arrange a ‘miracle recovery’. Sarah can return to the unit. having suffered enough, she should be sensible now.” The subordinate hesitated, “ALS is terminal, how can it recover? Will Sarah believe it?” Uncle Julian smiled confidently, “That silly girl, raised by me since childhood, which word of mine doesn’t she believe?” “Lily is a fallen hero’s orphan, sensitive. Sarah as the older sister should yield more. I’m doing this for her own good. Later… I will compensate her.” I lowered my head, tears falling silently. But Uncle, we have no “later.” Your terminal illness is fake. But mine, is real. Chapter 1 The cold wind outside the window scraped against my body, freezing. I was like a senseless puppet, fixed in place, enduring the slow slicing of my faith collapsing over five years. Every cut brought out dripping flesh and blood. Uncle’s comrade-in-arms Lincoln sighed: “I have to say, you are really cruel. That’s the child you raised yourself, the youngest ace sniper in the base. Resigned just because you said so, only in her early twenties, already worn out like an old woman. A few days ago, to scrape together money for your imported medicine, she was short eight hundred dollars and came to borrow from me.” Uncle’s face darkened immediately: “Did you lend it?” Lincoln shook his head helplessly: “You gave a death order, how would I dare? That girl stood at my dorm door all afternoon, fainted from low blood sugar, I didn’t dare help. Finally woke up, walked away holding the wall herself.” What Lincoln didn’t say was, that day, I put my service pistol to my temple. I said, Uncle Lincoln, there’s one bullet left in the chamber, if you don’t lend it, I’ll pull the trigger. Medicine cut off for seven days, Uncle coughed up blood foam from his lungs. But Lincoln just red-eyed, gritted his teeth and disarmed me, pushing me out like a plague god. Turns out, he didn’t want to lend, he couldn’t. Uncle snorted coldly: “Listen clearly. Before Lily returns from D.C. recuperation, no one is allowed to help Sarah. Whether she kneels, begs, or even dies in front of you, don’t look twice.” “Lily has a heavy heart, depression just improved. This five-year ‘punishment’ for Sarah cannot be one day less. Whoever upsets Lily, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Dead silence in the private room. Someone reminded awkwardly: “General, aren’t you afraid Sarah will be heartbroken if she knows the truth?” Voice just fell, Uncle sneered: “Heartbroken? I raised her, I gave her life, what is this little grievance? Lily is different, she has no kin, suffered so much, it’s only right I treat her well.” His gaze swept over the room: “Words today, if one sentence drifts to Sarah’s ears out of this door, don’t blame me for not considering old feelings.” I leaned against the cold wall, limbs numb. Turns out, the five years I risked my life for were just a carefully arranged punishment. My future, my honor, just needed Lily to frown slightly, to become a light “only right” in Uncle’s mouth. I wanted to laugh, but a rusty bloody taste surged in my throat. Phone rang in the private room, footsteps approached the door. I had no time to hide, turned in panic, and bumped into the manager delivering wine. The bottle of military special supply white liquor on the tray shattered. Manager’s face changed drastically, slapped my face. Door opened, Uncle walked out quickly, didn’t even look here, opened his arms directly, catching the pouncing Lily. “Why came back yourself? Didn’t we agree Uncle would pick you up?” Lily laughed crisply: “I missed Uncle! Giving you a surprise!” Wearing a mask, I knelt on the cold marble floor, less than a meter away from them. Red eyes stung by the brilliant diamonds on Lily’s watch. Any diamond on that circle was enough for Uncle’s imported medicine for three months. Manager stepped forward apologetically: “General Sterling, really sorry… this wine, broken by this idiot.” Black military boots stopped in front of me. Uncle frowned impatiently: “Enough.” He pointed at me: “Since you broke it, clean this carpet with your hands. If Lily steps on half a shard, you swallow them piece by piece.” I knelt down, palm pressing the carpet moving slowly. Broken glass pierced skin, leaving fine blood marks. Lily hissed lightly, holding Uncle’s arm: “Uncle, my feet are sore.” “Delicate. I’ll carry you out, it’s dirty here.” Black military boots stepped over the back of my hand, left without pausing. I knelt on the spot, looking at the bloody palm, suddenly laughed low. Tears mixed with warm liquid gushing from nose dropped together. Manager jumped: “What’s wrong with you? Bleeding so much?” I stood up stumbling, wiped my face randomly with sleeve. Cuff instantly dyed red. “Maybe… dying soon.” Ignoring his stunned expression, I turned around, letting blood drops drag into a broken red line behind me, moving out step by step. Chapter 2 Pushing open the house door, the sound of porcelain breaking came from the kitchen. Uncle was struggling to prop up his body with arms, trying to climb up from the overturned wheelchair. Seeing me, he paused, lowered his head, eyes quickly red: “Sarah… Uncle just wanted to warm a glass of milk for you… I’m so useless… just a cripple…” He spoke slurrinly, drool spilling from corner of mouth, matched with trembling hands and desperate eyes, looking exactly like an ALS patient tortured by pain for years. I suddenly remembered, before “diagnosis,” Uncle had severe mysophobia. He, who wiped his pistol three times a day, military uniform without a wrinkle, could act this sloppy painful drama for five years for Lily. At this moment, I almost wanted to cut open his chest to see if his heart was made of stone. Seeing me silent, he slumped his shoulders dejectedly: “Sarah… do you despise Uncle being dirty? You go… leave me alone…” I walked over silently, righted the wheelchair, helped him up. Turned to fetch warm water, wiping stains for him. He suddenly grabbed my wrist, gaze landing on my bloody palm: “How did this happen? Who hurt you?” I stared at the fake anxiety in his eyes: “Hurt by someone who looks very much like Uncle.” “At the Grand Hotel.” Uncle tightened his jawline abruptly. I smiled again: “But I know that wasn’t Uncle. Uncle would never lie to me, right?” Uncle dodged my gaze: “Of course. Sarah is the most important person to Uncle, I will never lie to you.” I suppressed the soreness in my eyes, turned to push him out of the kitchen. Served dinner, living room empty. Bedroom door ajar, low voice came from inside: “Lily be good, Uncle prepared a big surprise for you tomorrow, celebrating your birthday personally.” On the phone, Lily’s voice delicate: “But tomorrow… is also sister’s birthday. Uncle not accompanying her, will she be sad?” “Silly girl. You are Uncle’s most important treasure. Sarah stopped celebrating birthdays long ago, used to it.” Lily cheered: “I knew Uncle treats me best!” I stood at the door for a long time. Finally, silently untied the apron, turned and left. When Uncle pushed the wheelchair out, the room was empty. A bowl of noodle soup on the table, and an imported pill wrapped in foil. Usually at this time, I went out for night shift. My bloodless face flashed in his mind, the hideous wound on palm, and that spine so thin it seemed to snap at a touch… An inexplicable panic suddenly seized his heart. He picked up the phone, quickly dialed a number. Next day, military hospital. I took Uncle for re-examination. Attending doctor looked excited: “Ms. Song! A research institute in D.C. has a special drug, miraculous for ALS! I fought for a trial spot for General Sterling!” Compared to his excitement, I just asked calmly: “How high is recovery probability?” “Over eighty percent!” Uncle red-eyed cooperatively: “Sarah… Uncle can get better… can continue to accompany you…” I pulled corner of mouth, revealing a very faint smile: “If only one can live between me and Uncle. No matter when, I hope the one surviving, is you.” Uncle stunned, frowning tight: “What nonsense! We will both live well. When Uncle recovers, returns to unit, you are still the proudest sniper in the base—” But this “pride,” I don’t want anymore. Along with Uncle, don’t want anymore. Doctor asked me out of office with excuse “complex examination process.” I knew, this was just an excuse to send me away. I stood at the corridor corner, watching Uncle quickly change out of patient gown, walking steadily into elevator. Downstairs, that familiar black sedan with military plates waited long ago. I withdrew my gaze silently, turned into another clinic at the end of corridor. “Ms. Song, your brain tumor has compressed major nerves, lost surgery opportunity.” Doctor sighed heavily, “If half a month ago… maybe there was hope. Probably… just these two days. Say goodbye to family properly.” I sat quietly for a long time, then nodded slowly. “After I die, please cremate me directly. Ashes… please send to West Mountain military family compound, give to Major General Julian Sterling.” Leaving only money on me, I walked out of hospital. Phone screen lit up, a new message popped up: [Come to family compound to see.] Sender was Lily. I hailed a taxi to West Mountain family compound. Five years, the single-family villa in military compound I thought changed owner long ago, now brilliantly lit, decorated like a fairy tale castle. Guests filled the door, clothes fragrant shadows. Lily wore a small diamond crown, white haute couture gauze dress, holding Uncle’s arm tightly. Surrounded by crowd, they stood before a six-layer cake. She put palms together, voice sweet: “My wish is to become Uncle’s only little princess, forever and ever.” Uncle smiled, taking out a deep blue velvet square box from military uniform pocket. The moment box opened. My whole body’s blood, seemed to freeze instantly. That was a pair of emerald bracelets. Said to be handed down in Sterling family for generations, only for Sterling daughter-in-law. On my eighteenth birthday, Uncle put it in my palm: “Sarah, whether you willing to accept Uncle or not, you are always the most precious little princess in my heart.” I once valued it more than life. In hardest times, guarded it desperately. Now, that pair of gentle emerald bracelets, resized thinner, engraved with new name inside, Lily. Amidst applause of blessing, Uncle solemnly put them on Lily’s slender wrists. “My little princess, congratulations, wish came true.” Chapter 3 I don’t know how I left that dazzling light. Phone vibrated continuously in pocket. [Actually at Grand Hotel, I recognized you, Sister.] [Saw clearly? Bracelet is mine, Uncle is mine too.] [You look like… an unwanted wild dog, so pitiful.] [Living so failed, better die right? Heehee.] [By the way, I asked Uncle to prepare a ‘birthday gift’ for you, please… enjoy well.] I wandered on cold streets like a wandering ghost all day. When night fell, returned to the rented old tenement building. Then, I understood what Lily meant by “gift.” Door wide open. Room like swept by storm. Uncle was pressed on ground with hands tied back, brand new military uniform covered in dust. He struggled, neck veins bulging. “Little girl, long time no see.” Leader man chewing toothpick, “This month’s money, should be paid right?” My face pale: “All debts, I clearly paid off.” “Paid off?” Man sneered, stepping on Uncle’s back, “I say not paid off, then not paid off. What, don’t want to give? Then see your precious Uncle, how many sticks can he take?” “Sarah… don’t mind me! Go! Quick go! Let them beat me to death… anyway I’m a useless person…” Exact same words. These five years, I heard countless times. I closed eyes tiredly. They “forced debt” countless times, but never really hurt Uncle a bit. And I, to protect this person who deceived me deeply, broke ribs, lamed leg, almost hollowed out everything of myself. Throat tasted rusty sweet. I asked hoarsely: “You… what exactly do you want?” Man looked me up and down, eyes contemptuous: “You crawl under our crotches one by one, bark three times like a dog for each. Today’s money, treat as us watching a show.” “No! Sarah! Cannot crawl!” Uncle roared, eyes red, struggling to get up, but pressed dead. I pulled corner of mouth numbly. Last weak flame in heart, poof, extinguished. “Okay.” I heard my own voice, terribly calm, “Since this is what you wish, consider it even.” Words clearly said to those men, but Uncle looked up sharply, a trace of unexpected panic掠過 eyes. But immediately, he remembered his promise to Lily. This is the last “lesson.” As long as Sarah survives, he takes her home, compensate double from now on. He still has a long life to make up. So, he moved gaze away, even, borrowing struggling action, secretly used micro camera hidden in cuff, took picture of me kneeling before men. Sent out. Crowd dispersed. I lay on ground long time before having strength to stand up. Uncle crawled over red-eyed, wanted to sell misery a few words, but after seeing my dead ash eyes, all muted in throat. Next day, doctor came to pick Uncle to D.C. for “special drug” treatment. Before getting in car, he held my hand tight, looking back three times a step: “Sarah, wait for Uncle back. Uncle definitely let you pick up sniper rifle again, be the most dazzling soldier in base. Never let anyone… bully you again.” I smiled, didn’t answer. Just quietly watched vehicle disappear at street end. Then, I bent violently, covering mouth, large amount of blood spilling from fingers. Doctor said, tumor rupture, is death date. Strange. Moment falling, I actually had no fear. Flashbacks in mind, all mottled but warm old times. It was Uncle taking me home from cold martyr cemetery, clumsily tying braids for me; It was my first live fire shooting missing target, he scolded with stern face, turned to stuff milk candy in my pocket secretly; It was when I high fever coma, he stayed by bed all night sleepless, holding my hand, saying over and over “Sarah don’t fear, Uncle here”. He said: “Our Sarah, deserves best of everything in world.” Warm liquid slid over cheek. I trembled fingers covered in blood, clicked phone screen. Used last strength, typed word by word: [Uncle, I’m not waiting for you.] [This life, compensating Sterling family’s raising grace, and Lily’s ‘grievance’. Bury me… beside my parents.] Message sent. I closed eyes weakly. At this time, phone on ground, vibrated crazily. Chapter 4 Just boarded private jet, Lily waiting in cabin pounced like happy bird. “Uncle! Finally can accompany me travel!” She pulled out a thick travel journal, every page pasted photos and ticket stubs, densely stamped with memorial stamps from all over world. That was Lily’s route of “recuperation” past five years. Every place, Uncle arranged top security team, most comfortable itinerary, most luxurious accommodation for her. He gave her reserved doting. But to deceive me, acted five years of dying patient by my side. Squeezed in cramped simple rental with me, eating cheapest food. Watching me take off military uniform personally, for his sky-high “medicine,” running in countless late nights, boiling myself into a skeleton. Now, just because Lily said “want to travel with Uncle,” he wove lies again, leaving me alone in that cold suffocating old house. These five years, He told too many lies, deception seemed instinct. But at this moment, before cabin door closed, that figure he glimpsed last unexpectedly crashed into heart. Heart suddenly pricked. Sharp pain. “Uncle? Why ignoring me?” Lily pouted, eyes red instantly, “If reluctant to leave sister, you can go back now… anyway I’m latecomer, sister hates me, you… you dislike me too, all should be…” Such words, Julian heard countless times. Every time, would make him feel pity, compensate double. But this time, brows locked tight, unprecedentedly didn’t comfort gently immediately. Lily is late subordinate’s daughter, grew up in military compound with us. Father died on duty, mother died of illness soon, Uncle saw her lonely, processed adoption. Raising two girls same time, burden on Uncle heavier. To not distract Uncle, I forced myself to limit, training, studying, only want to be his pride, not burden. But Lily at that time, fearing losing this hard-won “reliance,” actually secretly photographed draft of confidential document involving exercise adjustment in Uncle’s study, sent to competitor eyeing his position. That day, I caught in act outside study, blood rushed up, raised hand to hit. Slap not fallen, wrist grabbed tight by hurried back Uncle. He only saw my face twisted by anger, and Lily shrinking shoulders, crying like pear blossom in rain: “Sister… I know Uncle loves me you uncomfortable… but this document really not moved by me… if you insist wronging me, I… I willing accept any investigation, even military court…” That unfallen slap, finally turned into a crisp slap on my face by Uncle. Coldness and disappointment in his eyes, like ice pick quenched in poison. “Song Sarah, look at yourself, any look of soldier family left? You make me too cold hearted.” That was first time he hit me. Also from that time, scale tilted completely. Lily cried, it’s me narrow minded, can’t tolerate people. Lily emotional left home, it’s me crowding forcing. Lily “depression” attack, it’s me verbal stimulation. Later Sterling family “fell,” Lily sent abroad “recuperation” first time. At that time me, still naively thought, ten years interdependent feelings indestructible. I even secretly rejoiced, as long as no Lily across middle, me and Uncle can always return to past. But reality is head-on cold water, splashing people bone chilling. Lily wasn’t sent away, but properly settled by Uncle, to enjoy freedom and luxury I couldn’t imagine. When I was human sandbag in boxing club for few hundred medicine money, beaten vomiting blood refusing to fall; She complained private coach not professional enough in Alps ski resort. Julian silenced for long time. Only engine low roar in cabin. Many scenes deliberately ignored by him, now uncontrollably surged up— Remembering my eyes shining looking back at him after hundred hits in shooting range; Remembering I saved allowance, secretly buying canned food for stray retired army dogs at compound gate; Remembering me from small to big, except that time to Lily, never showed malice to anyone… And every time my “evil” to Lily, seemed only from Lily’s unilateral accusation. He tugged military uniform collar irritably, Lily’s thin sobbing in ear, only made him feel inexplicable restless now. “No one dislikes you.” He finally spoke, voice a bit dry, “Aren’t I accompanying you out? Later… don’t say such words.” Finally girl loved in heart tip for years, he eased face, preparing to get up, “I get you juice.” Just then, military encrypted phone on side seat, screen lit up suddenly. Phone just picked up, Lily reached snatching over. She pouted, shaking his arm: “Uncle, I’m hungry, you get me some fruit first okay?” Julian thought military affairs temporarily transferred, medical matters arranged properly, should be no urgent matter, nodded, turned to front cabin dining area. When he came back with fruit plate, phone screen already dark. Lily smiled sweetly, handing back phone: “It’s Uncle’s staff sending itinerary confirmation, I helped you reply ‘Received’.” Julian didn’t suspect, gaze cast to boundless cloud sea outside window. Bottom of heart somewhere, inexplicably empty, like missing a piece.

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My husband has always had a female “best bro,” a classic “Pick Me Girl.” From the first moment we met, I knew she didn’t like me. When we traveled together, she was in charge of booking tickets but “forgot” mine. She cried and apologized, and my husband persuaded me to forgive her. At our wedding, she deliberately led the groomsmen to smear cake on my face. She said it was a “tradition,” and my husband told me not to be petty. After our new house was renovated, under the banner of a housewarming party, she and “The Boys” trashed the place. I couldn’t bear it anymore and exploded. My husband told me to calm down: “She flipped a table at someone else’s wedding last month. We are all bros, don’t hold a grudge, okay?” I touched my pregnant belly and helplessly threatened: “Next time, divorce!” After that warning, the “female bro” settled down for a while. Until my daughter’s first birthday party, she looked at my daughter’s face with a conflicted expression. “Why does the baby look less and less like my bro? Bro, is this really your kid?” The other bros chimed in. My face went cold on the spot. My husband was also furious and kicked them out. “It was fine before, but now you say my daughter isn’t mine? We are done being bros!” Unexpectedly, that night, I saw a hot thread on Reddit. [My daughter is one year old. My bros say she doesn’t look like me. I suspect my wife cucked me. What should I do?] Chapter 1 [If you don’t do a paternity test, just accept raising another man’s child with a green hat on.] The OP replied: [I thought about doing a paternity test, but if my wife finds out, she will divorce me. I don’t want a divorce.] Many comments below mocked him for being a coward and a cuckold. Some also condemned him for believing his bros instead of his wife. [Calling them bros, do you really think they wish you well? They are miserable and wish your family would fall apart!] OP replied: [No way, we grew up together. Why do you speculate maliciously about my bros like my wife?] Someone gave him an idea. [Steal your daughter’s hair for a test. If it’s yours, pretend nothing happened. If not, just divorce.] At my daughter’s first birthday party, my husband Julian’s female bro Mia just instigated that the daughter wasn’t his. This thread appeared at night, and the OP’s daughter is also one year old. Similarly, every time I said Julian’s “Frat Pack,” especially Mia, targeted me and sowed discord. Julian also said I thought his bros were too vicious. The OP even had the same IP address as us. I highly suspected the OP was Julian himself. Looking at Julian sleeping next to me, about to talk in his sleep, a wave of grievance and anger surged in my heart. I took his phone and unlocked it, but searched through his phone and couldn’t find the Reddit app. The chat history with his bros also stopped yesterday. Scrolling up, there was nothing excessive. Could it be that the thread wasn’t posted by him? I felt my anger subside a bit. Early the next morning, Julian got up early as usual to take care of our daughter, loving her very much. I breathed a sigh of relief, starting to feel that the thread might really be a coincidence. But unexpectedly, when I came out of the kitchen with baby food, I saw Julian pulling my daughter’s hair. “What are you doing!” I rushed over, pushed him away violently, and hugged my daughter. Julian looked shocked: “Wifey, what’s wrong?” I questioned him with red eyes: “Why are you pulling our daughter’s hair?” “You mean this?” He reached out and showed me what was in his hand. It was a flying insect. “Don’t know where the bug came from, it flew onto baby’s head. I was just catching the bug.” He was very aggrieved: “Wifey, why would you think I was pulling baby’s hair? And why are you so agitated?” Seeing I misunderstood him, I felt a burst of guilt. “Sorry, I was afraid you would hurt her.” Hearing this, Julian didn’t pursue it further. After coaxing my daughter to sleep at noon, I opened Reddit and found that the thread had been updated. [I almost got caught by my wife pulling my daughter’s hair today. Luckily I pretended to be calm and fooled her. Give me another idea.] Chapter 2 I felt my head explode, vision went black, almost couldn’t stand steady. Now I’m sure, the person who posted this thread is Julian! Otherwise, how could there be so many coincidences! At this moment, I didn’t want to care about anything. I frantically wanted to rush to him and hold this thread in front of his face. Then drag him and our daughter to do a paternity test, then divorce. But the next second, I saw the OP reply to a comment. [Bro, I see you are also from State J. Which city? I have a friend working in a private testing center who can get expedited results. DM me, I’ll hook you up. Don’t raise another man’s child.] OP replied: [Bro, I’m from City S. DM’d you.] My home is in City H. This OP is only in the same state as me, not the same city. I almost wrongly blamed Julian again. Luckily I saw this reply in time. Otherwise, if I really asked him, our relationship would definitely deteriorate because of this distrust. When we were dating, Julian said the most important thing between us was mutual trust. In college, he agreed with Mia and the others to go on a beach vacation behind my back. Notified me to go together only when they were about to leave. I already couldn’t stand him and Mia always having no boundaries. Many things were only told to Mia and not me, as if I, the girlfriend, was the outsider. Now I was even more angry. Went to the airport with him only to find Mia didn’t buy my ticket at all. She cried and apologized to me: “Sorry sister-in-law, I’m used to buying tickets for six people, didn’t realize there was one less person.” But I knew she did it on purpose. My face was ugly. Julian’s bros started accusing me of being petty. Julian also persuaded me: “She’s just careless. Don’t be angry. I won’t go, I’ll stay with you.” His bros were unhappy, calling him prioritizing hoes over bros. Julian was in a dilemma. I sneered in my heart, but my face returned to calm. “You go, I’m not angry.” Until boarding, Julian was making sure I wasn’t really angry. After confirming the plane took off, I blocked him and all his bros’ contact information directly. Leaving a sentence: “You and Mia go ahead.” That night, Julian took a red-eye flight back to school, begging for my forgiveness like crazy. I ignored him. Finally, he had no choice but to threaten suicide by jumping into the river. I went to the hospital to see him. He explained to me that not telling me about the island trip was to surprise me. “Mia said you girls like surprises.” He promised to keep a distance from Mia in the future, so I got back together with him. The day we got back together, he hugged me and cried: “No matter what happens, you have to trust me. If you don’t trust me, I feel worse than death.” After that, he really avoided suspicion with Mia, otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. I felt fortunate. The trust between me and Julian was almost destroyed. Out of guilt, I decided to leave the child to the nanny today and go on a date with Julian. After sending him the date message, I picked clothes in the cloakroom. Picked mine, then Julian’s. As a result, I found a phone I had never seen before at the bottom of his sock drawer. Chapter 3 The phone password hadn’t changed. After unlocking, I subconsciously looked for the Reddit app. Found it, clicked into the account, saw that familiar thread, familiar ID. My brain buzzed. Before I could react, tears started to fall. I tried hard to hold back tears, clicked on the DM on the homepage. Saw his private chat with the person who said he could expedite results. [Bro, I’m actually from City H. How fast can I get the results?] I closed Reddit expressionlessly and turned this phone upside down. Turns out, he has so many alt accounts I didn’t know about. In WeChat, his alt account and his bro group had a chat group called “Mia is Best”. Mia kept explaining: [Bro, I really didn’t mean to say it in front of so many people. Help me explain to sister-in-law.] [Sister-in-law never liked me, now she misunderstood even more.] Other bros were also persuading Julian not to blame Mia. Julian didn’t speak. Finally, Mia said: [But Bro, we’ve been bros for so many years, I genuinely wish you well. Baby really doesn’t look like you.] [I’m afraid you really became a sucker. When the child grows up, neither wife nor child is yours.] Julian replied with two words “Shut up” and ignored anyone. After that, Julian went to Reddit to post. Scrolling up, there were photos of them going to bars together, Julian surrounded by women. So many times Julian said the company was busy, he was busy playing with women in bars with Mia. Seeing this, I actually laughed inexplicably. It was really too ridiculous. Opened his TikTok again. Mia shared a few thirst trap videos with him. [Isn’t this body more exciting than my sister-in-law’s?] [Bro, I dug out the best stuff for you, are you still angry?] Julian replied “Get lost”, and Mia immediately messaged him to chat. Scrolling up, Mia shared thirst trap videos with him almost every day. Every one showed he had watched it. These things were like countless slaps on my face. Putting down the phone, I slumped on the ground, face white as a dead person. Chest hurt so much I could hardly breathe. Turns out, Julian has been acting in front of me with Mia all along. Their intimate relationship never broke. The love Julian talked about, the trust, the no deception. All lies to me! These years, he and Mia watched me being fooled like a fool. Nausea in stomach churned with pain. I climbed up from the ground. Outside came the nanny’s voice. “Madam is in the room.” Click. Door opened. Julian walked towards me with a happy face. “Wifey, I’m not going to work today. Where do you want to go for a date?” Gaze fell on my face and froze: “What’s wrong?” He walked over to wipe my tears, dodged by me. I looked at him with disgust. Picked up that phone, opened that thread, held it in front of him. “Paternity test done?” Chapter 4 Julian panicked in an instant. “Wifey, what paternity test? I didn’t.” I sneered: “Didn’t you make an appointment with a netizen, and took our daughter’s toothbrush for a test this afternoon?” Julian hurriedly denied: “I didn’t, wifey. I just posted that thread because I was confused for a moment.” I was too lazy to listen to his explanation, reached out my hand to him. “Show me the results.” “Is the daughter yours? It would be bad if I gave you a green hat.” My cold calmness scared Julian. He shook his head: “I really didn’t go, Jessica. Believe me, okay?” “Don’t be like this.” I looked through his phone, mouth curling into a mocking arc. “You didn’t go?” Julian nodded vigorously. I threw the phone into his arms. “Then let’s take our daughter for a paternity test together, so you don’t have to worry and ask around online.” Julian’s face turned whiter. I hugged my daughter directly, dragged him, and walked to the underground garage. “Notify your good bros to come too. Let them see if my daughter is your seed.” Julian almost cried. “Wifey, let’s not go, okay? I was wrong, I really know I was wrong.” I stuffed him into the car, snatched his phone, and notified them in the “Mia is Best” group chat. Mia replied first: [Bro, you finally figured it out!] [Don’t be afraid, bros are here for big things!] [Women are like clothes, bros are like limbs. Bros never betray you!] Mia and others arrived at the hospital, seeing me there too. All stunned. Then Mia smiled and patted Julian: “Bro, you are finally not henpecked, tough for once!” Smiled at me again: “Sister-in-law, don’t blame my bro. After all, which man can tolerate raising someone else’s child?” “Now doing a paternity test while the child is small, confirming the bloodline, my bro can be at ease too. Please understand.” I nodded indifferently: “Mm, I understand.” Soon the doctor asked me, Julian, and our daughter to draw blood. When drawing my daughter’s blood, she didn’t understand why the needle pricked into her vein. When she reacted, she cried loudly. I looked at her pouting mouth, eyes almost drowned by tears, heartbroken. All disguised indifference shattered at this moment. I hugged my daughter, apologizing to her constantly. “I’m sorry.” Sorry for finding the wrong dad for her, letting her suffer such things at a young age. Waiting in the hospital for a few hours, the paternity test results came out. Doctor came out with the report. Mia snatched it fastest. After reading the result, she covered her mouth in shock at Julian. “Bro, the child really isn’t yours. Jessica cheated on you!”

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The night before my wedding, I found my sister in bed with my fiancé. In her panic, she fell and miscarried. And just like that, I was painted as the cruel, heartless villain. “You’ve done wrong, and now you must be punished.” My husband-to-be, in league with my own parents, forced me to sign away our marriage and then personally drove me to a psychiatric facility. When I finally got out, it was just in time for their wedding. I didn’t crash the reception and cause a scene, as everyone expected. Instead, I boarded a plane and vanished from their lives completely. … Eight years later. I saw Ashton Blackwood again, standing outside the emergency room. A sudden, jarring reunion. He was in a frantic rush, getting his pregnant wife checked in. The moment I looked up to begin the consultation, our eyes met. “Nora?” He froze, his gaze instinctively dropping to my wrist, to the jagged, faded scar that marred the skin. “Your scar…” he started, his voice catching in his throat. He seemed desperate to say more, but the icy wall in my expression made him swallow the words. “Unauthorized personnel, please step aside.” My tone was flat, clinical, as if we were complete strangers. After the procedure, I calmly explained the restrictions for her recovery and medication. Ashton pretended to listen, but his eyes were adrift, constantly returning to me. Finally, he asked a question that was miles over the line. “Why didn’t you ever come back home? We searched for you for a long time.” Just then, a small, clear voice cut through the tension. “Mommy, when are we eating? Andy is hungry.” Ashton’s head snapped toward the sound, his eyes landing on a small face that was a startling echo of his own. “That child… is he…?” A nurse came over just then, asking for my signature on a chart. I gave Ashton a curt nod, took my son’s hand, and turned to leave without another word. “Mommy, who was that man?” my son asked, tilting his head back to look up at me with curious eyes. My voice was devoid of any emotion. “A patient’s family.” “But… it looked like he was about to cry. He just kept staring at us.” I didn’t break my stride. “You saw wrong.” My neighbor, Mrs. Gable, who usually watched Andy for me, had an emergency, which is why I’d had to bring him to work. Thankfully, she had just called to say she was on her way. That night, a soft autumn rain began to fall outside my window. I finished my work, my body aching with exhaustion, and walked back to my office. I never expected to find Ashton waiting there. My brow furrowed. “Mr. Blackwood. Is there something you need?” My cold formality seemed to catch him off guard. “There’s no need for concern, Mr. Blackwood. Your wife’s condition is not serious. Just ensure she attends her follow-up appointments.” I spoke to him as I would any other stranger. Perhaps the words “your wife” stung him. I could see a tempest of emotions swirling behind his gaze. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a dry, raspy, “…Thank you.” “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving. The doctor on call can assist you with any further questions.” I gave him a slight nod and walked away. As I passed the security desk, the guard, a friendly man I knew well, leaned out. “Nora, wasn’t that Mr. Blackwood? The one with the fancy car? He looks like a real big shot.” I nodded. “Yes.” “Making that kind of money so young, must be nice,” he mused. “I hear he and his wife are inseparable. Someone said they came to the coast to pray for the health of their unborn baby.” His voice was filled with the average person’s fascination with the lives of the wealthy. I didn’t respond. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood were inseparable now. And his wife, Lila, had a husband who adored her, parents who doted on her, and a child on the way. She had everything that was once supposed to be mine. And almost no one remembered how she got it. My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts. [Sorry, something came up with a project. I’ll be a little late to pick you up.] A small smile touched my lips as my fingers danced across the screen. [Focus on your work. I can get home myself.] The reply was almost instant. [Be safe. Text me when you get home.] Tucking my phone away, I noticed the rain was coming down harder, with no sign of letting up. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but the ride-share app just kept spinning, no cars available. Honk. A car horn blared behind me. A black Bentley Mulsanne pulled up to the curb. I knew that car. The license plate was Lila’s birthday. Mine was the very next day. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Ashton’s profile. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” Glancing at the still-loading icon on my phone, I hesitated for only a second before pulling open the back door and sliding in, giving him the address of my apartment complex. I was bone-tired, and the damp weather was making the old injuries in my wrist and abdomen ache with a dull, persistent throb. A free ride was a free ride. No point in refusing. Ashton was a creature of habit, almost obsessively so. In our time together, I wasn’t even allowed to place a new air freshener in the car without his permission. But now… The car was filled with the cool, woody scent of sandalwood, Lila’s favorite. A minimalist Nordic figurine, her preferred style, sat on the dashboard. Seeing me in the back seat, Ashton gave a bitter smile. “So you’re really treating me like a chauffeur?” “I just don’t want to give your wife the wrong idea,” I said, my voice cool. The phrase “your wife” acted like a kill switch, strangling any words he might have been about to say. The air in the car grew heavy and suffocating. I turned my head to watch the city lights blur past the window, letting the silence hang. The streaking lights pulled my mind back eight years, to the darkest day of my life. It was the day before Ashton and I were supposed to get married. I was brimming with excitement, dreaming of becoming his wife. I never imagined that when I pushed open the door to our home, I would walk in on him and my sister, Lila. Entangled. In our wedding suite. On our wedding bed. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t notice me standing in the doorway for a long, silent moment. Not until Lila’s eyes finally found mine. “Nora!” she shrieked, her eyes wide with shock. I thought that being caught red-handed would make Ashton panic, or at least show a flicker of shame. He did neither. The very first thing he did was pull the blanket up, covering the incriminating marks on Lila’s body. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice laced with the annoyance of someone whose private moment had been interrupted. Back then, I had no tolerance for betrayal. In that single instant, humiliation and rage consumed me. I became a screaming madwoman, hurling every vicious word I could think of at them, swiping everything I could reach off the dressers and tables. The room was a disaster. Lila cowered behind Ashton, trembling. “Nora, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen. Ashton and I… we’re in love.” Her voice was a choked sob, her eyes glistening like a white lily beaten down by a storm, the picture of pitiable innocence. A far cry from the seductive woman with bedroom eyes I had seen moments before. Ashton shielded her with his body, his glare a condemnation. “You’re scaring her! Look at yourself, you’re acting like a shrew!” He was right. I felt like a monster. I took their picture and blasted it across social media and our family group chat. I wanted everyone to see their disgusting, ugly truth. The photo had barely been up for a minute before my parents called. “Nora, have you lost your mind?!” “Take that down right now! If that gets out, how is Lila supposed to face anyone?” My parents had always favored Lila. She was sickly as a child, in and out of hospitals, so they gave her everything she ever wanted, spoiling her rotten. And I, as the older sister, was expected to put her first, to yield to her in everything, without question. My birthday was only a day after hers, so my parents forced me to celebrate mine early, combining it with hers. But at every party, Lila was always the star. I just never imagined their favoritism would extend to something as sordid as this. “You and Ashton should get a divorce.” My sister was sleeping with my fiancé. And instead of reprimanding her, my parents were telling me to step aside and let them be together. “Why?!” I screamed, the injustice a physical weight on my chest. It was her mistake, so why was I the one who had to give up my life? Their hearts were hopelessly biased. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, each breath a new wave of pain. “Lila is your sister. As the older one, you should give way to her,” my father said, his voice thick with annoyance, as if my defiance was a personal inconvenience. I instinctively looked at Ashton, the man who had sworn he loved me more than life itself. He just stood there, watching it all unfold with a cold detachment, offering no explanation. Lila was nestled safely in his arms. “Nora, he doesn’t love you anymore,” she whimpered. “We’re the ones in love. Please, just let us be together, okay?” “You still have the nerve to call him your ‘brother-in-law’?” I spat. “Have you no shame?” Blinded by rage, I lunged forward and slapped her across the face. In the ensuing chaos, Lila lost her footing and fell to the floor with a sharp cry. “Ah!” She let out a pained gasp, her face turning chalk-white as she clutched her stomach. “Lila!” Ashton’s expression changed instantly. “My stomach… it hurts so much,” she moaned, her voice trembling as the color drained from her face. Ashton swept her into his arms and raced for the hospital, pausing only to throw a look of pure hatred over his shoulder at me. But I saw it clearly. She had lost her balance on her own. It was only then that I understood. They hadn’t just started. They had been sneaking around for a long time, long enough for a child to have been conceived. A few hours later, the doctors confirmed the baby was lost. “Are you happy now?” my mother hissed, her body shaking with rage as she slapped me hard across the face. My cheek went numb, a loud ringing filling my ears. But no physical pain could compare to the agony tearing my heart apart. Everyone blamed me for Lila losing her baby. They demanded I get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. Of course, I refused. The price of my defiance was steep. Ashton and my parents conspired, claiming I was “emotionally unstable with violent tendencies,” and had me forcibly committed to a remote psychiatric facility. “You did wrong, so you must be punished,” Ashton had said. “When you’ve had time to think about what you did and realize your mistake, we’ll come get you.” A cold, bitter laugh rose in my throat. Come back? Where was there to come back to? The moment I saw them together, I had already lost my place in the world. The days in that facility were a sunless blur. By the time my body was a wreck and my spirit was shattered, I was rushed to a hospital on the brink of death. While I was fighting for my life, my husband and my parents were on a vacation abroad with my sister, helping her “relax and recover.” It took a grueling eight-hour surgery to pull me back from the edge. When Ashton and my parents finally arrived at the hospital, I was already in a regular room. But as he looked at my skeletal frame, at the hollowed-out stranger in the hospital bed, the first words out of Ashton’s mouth were: “Do you know what you did wrong now?” His voice was as cold and hard as stone. “And don’t forget you still owe Lila an apology. You made her lose her child, and she’s still not over it, she almost fell into a depression. You should use this time to think about how you’re going to make it up to her.” Sorrow deeper than death washed over me. If my heart had died when they sent me to that facility, Ashton’s words now ground it into dust. In that moment, I didn’t even have the strength left to argue. My voice was an empty whisper, devoid of any feeling. “I know. I was wrong.” I was wrong. Wrong to have been so blind, to have loved a man as cruel and heartless as Ashton. Wrong to have foolishly hoped for affection from parents who so clearly played favorites. Ashton kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, opening his mouth to speak several times, then closing it again. The silence stretched until the car came to a smooth stop in front of my building. I got out and offered a polite, detached thank you. “Thanks for the ride.” Just as I turned to leave, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Nora!” I turned back, waiting. “Why are you living in a place like this?” he asked, his eyes scanning the run-down complex. “These past years… have they been hard for you?” The streetlights were dim, casting long shadows on the peeling paint of the old buildings. Everything looked worn and tired. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice hoarse. “If you need help…” “That won’t be necessary. I’m doing very well, but thank you for your concern.” I didn’t understand. How could the man who so callously threw me into the abyss now put on this act of deep, heartfelt concern? Ashton didn’t believe me, convinced I was just being stubborn. “Nora, you don’t have to lie to me. I can see it.” “I know you resent me,” he continued, “but even if we’re not together, we’re still family.” A small, humorless laugh escaped my lips. My expression was distant, almost bored. “You must be joking, Mr. Blackwood.” From the day I chose to leave, I no longer had a family. I would never forget those lonely days recovering in the hospital. After that first day, no one ever came to visit again. It was through the news on my phone that I learned the Blackwood and Miller families were busy planning a lavish wedding for Ashton and Lila. My parents, to prevent me from causing any trouble, had even instructed the hospital to keep me under strict watch. But they all underestimated me. On their wedding day, I didn’t show up to make a scene. I simply boarded a plane and flew away. As the plane took off, the night sky over the entire city of Crestwood was lit up by a spectacular fireworks display, celebrating their union. I thought I would never have to cross paths with those people again. But life is unpredictable. Fate, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor. “Nora, do you really hate me that much? Between us…” Ashton’s voice was urgent, his emotions fraying. I cut him off before he could finish. “There is no ‘us.’ That ended eight years ago.” Hate? In the beginning, right after I left, of course I hated him. But eight years is a long time. People change. The entanglements with Ashton and my family were burdens I had long since set down. Ashton’s voice was raw. “But that boy…” I knew it. I knew that after seeing Andy, his mind would start racing. “Andy has nothing to do with you.” Ashton and I… we were supposed to have a child. I had planned to tell him on our wedding day, a joyful surprise. Instead, he gave me a much bigger, much more horrifying “surprise.” The stay in the facility left me with a permanent scar on my wrist. The nerve damage was so severe that for a time, I couldn’t even use my right hand properly. But far more devastating was the internal trauma, the damage to my abdomen. It cost me my child. “Impossible! Don’t lie to me, he looks so much like me…” Ashton was convinced, refusing to believe my words. I cut him off again, my voice sharp. “Believe what you want, but the child is not yours. So please, stay out of our lives.” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with a pain he could no longer suppress. “Back then… I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” He was about to say more when a warm, kind voice called out from behind me. “Nora, dear, why are you just standing out here? Come on up.” It was Mrs. Gable. She’d gotten worried when I didn’t come home and had come down to check on me. She looked at the emotionally overwrought Ashton with a puzzled expression. “And who is this?” “A patient’s family member. He gave me a ride home.” I turned back to him. “Thank you for the lift. I have a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight.” I gave a slight nod, then went to Mrs. Gable, linking my arm through hers as we walked into the building. “What kept you so late again today?” she chided gently. “I told you, I’m perfectly fine. You don’t need to keep checking on me.” “I worry about you living alone, especially since you won’t move in with me,” I said, leaning my head on her shoulder like a child. This playful, carefree version of me was something Ashton hadn’t seen in eight long years. A deep, agonizing pain flickered in his eyes. Eight years ago, when I fled Crestwood, I arrived in this small coastal city, Port Blossom, a broken woman. Mrs. Gable took me in when I was at my lowest. She gave me a warmth and kindness I hadn’t felt in years, and with it, the courage to start living again. I don’t know when Ashton finally left. Frankly, I didn’t care. I only knew that when I left for work the next morning, the spot where his car had been parked was littered with cigarette butts.

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Back from holiday, our longtime nanny Audrey brought me a dark fertility tonic she’d prepared. As I took the first sip, a child’s giggle echoed in my mind: “Hehe, once this idiot drinks this, her mansion will be mine!” A week later, I was pregnant. Audrey became especially attentive, even whispering to my belly. I was so moved, I doubled her salary and gave her gifts. But after ten months of care, I hemorrhaged during childbirth. Dying, I heard that voice again: “Stupid woman. My mom planned this. When I grow up, she’ll get all your family’s money!” My heart burned with rage as everything faded. Then I opened my eyes—I was back. And the first thing I did was pour that tonic out for our golden retriever. … Watching the dog lick the bowl clean, the burning hatred from my past life finally found an outlet. Before I could even stand up straight, the fetus’s shriek pierced my thoughts. No! Mom! That idiot didn’t drink the potion! You have to make her drink it! I’m not going to be poor with you for my whole life! My body went rigid. I turned my head. Just as I expected, the nanny, Audrey, was standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at me intently. A cold sweat prickled my skin. Thankfully, the windowsill blocked her view; she hadn’t seen me feed the tonic to the dog. I steadied myself, set down the empty bowl, and walked straight to my bedroom. This time around, I would never let this venomous mother and son use my body as their vessel. The moment I sat down, Audrey appeared with another bowl of the dark liquid. I immediately frowned. “That last bowl was disgusting. I’m not having any more.” She froze for a second before her usual sweet smile returned. “Vivian, honey, the remedy only works if you drink both bowls. I promise, this will get you the son you’ve been wishing for.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I had to carry this all the way from my hometown. Just pinch your nose and drink up.” Her soft-spoken persistence made my blood boil. In my last life, I had been completely fooled by her meek, honest facade. My father-in-law’s liver cancer diagnosis had only made things worse; he was desperate to see a grandchild before his time was up, pressuring me and my husband, Marcus, every single day. So, I had gratefully drunk her tonic. And when I got pregnant, I had rewarded her for her “tender care” with raises and gifts, only to bleed out on an operating table. The memory was so vivid it felt like fire. I swatted the bowl from her hand. “I said I’m not drinking it!” The potion splattered across the floor, releasing a sickeningly strange odor. Audrey’s eyes instantly welled with tears as she carefully picked up the broken pieces of the bowl. “Vivian, this is precious stuff. Why would you do that…?” Before she could finish, the fetus’s voice chimed in again. This bitch deserves to die, just like that old hag! If that suspicious old woman hadn’t insisted on a paternity test in our last life, I wouldn’t have ended up in an orphanage! Mom! You have to make this bitch drink the potion, and you have to get rid of the old woman before she gets suspicious again! I saw a flash of pure venom in Audrey’s eyes and a chill went down my spine. This woman had to go. “I said no. Don’t you understand English?” My harsh tone made her lip tremble. “Vivian, I’m only trying to help…” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it away.” She looked so pitiful, as if I had deeply wounded her. A knot of frustration tightened in my chest. I knew Audrey was behind this evil plot, but I couldn’t just fire her. Her mother had been my mother-in-law’s caregiver for most of her life. Out of respect for that long-standing relationship, my in-laws treated Audrey’s family with exceptional kindness. I needed a reason, a damn good one, to get her out of this house for good. I unclenched my fists. Even though the dog drank the tonic, I couldn’t relax. I told our housekeeper that Marcus wanted to switch to a lighter diet, so Audrey shouldn’t cook for a while. Then I spent the next few days making her do all the heavy lifting, hoping the physical strain might take care of the evil seed in her womb. But day after day, she remained perfectly fine, though the glares she shot me grew darker and more menacing. Then, the day my in-laws returned from their trip, she placed that same bowl of black tonic on the dining table. Right in front of me. “Mrs. Collins,” she said sweetly to my mother-in-law, “my mother sent this special remedy from our hometown. It’s for Vivian. It’s one hundred percent guaranteed to work!” At her words, my in-laws, who were desperate for a grandchild, beamed. They praised Audrey for being so thoughtful and urged me to drink it while it was hot. Seeing no way out, I pulled out a prescription I’d gotten from the doctor just for this occasion. “Mom, Dad, Marcus and I are already following a treatment plan from our doctor. I can’t mix it with other remedies.” Marcus looked confused but nodded along with me. Before my in-laws could respond, Audrey interrupted, her voice sharp with urgency. “Those doctors are just scammers! They take your money, but their treatments are useless!” As if to prove her point, she lifted her shirt to reveal a slightly rounded belly. “Look,” she said, a shy blush on her cheeks. “I was only home for the holidays and drank it for a few days, and now I’m pregnant.” She lowered her voice, her words hitting their mark. “Vivian has been trying for five years. If the doctors were any good, she’d have a child running around by now!” Her words struck a chord with my mother-in-law. My father-in-law sealed my fate. “If my daughter-in-law drinks this and it works, Audrey, I’ll let you pick any one of our properties as a gift!” I was about to refuse again when Audrey picked up the bowl and shoved it toward my lips. The fetus’s voice exploded in my head. Just one sip, Mom! If she swallows just one sip, I can transfer into her womb! We’ll be rich and famous for the rest of our lives! A wave of nausea washed over me. I shoved her arm away. “I’m not drinking it.” The bowl clattered to the floor. Audrey clutched her hand, which was now red from the hot liquid, tears glistening in her eyes. The atmosphere turned glacial. My mother-in-law frowned. “Vivian, Audrey was just trying to help. Was there any need for that?” Marcus squeezed my hand, his expression pained. “Mom, Dad, if Vivian doesn’t want to drink it, let’s just drop it. Or maybe I should drink it?” “It’s all your fault for spoiling her!” my mother-in-law snapped. “Whose wife is still childless after five years of marriage? I’m the laughingstock of my social circle!” On the verge of a full-blown argument, I claimed I was feeling unwell and escaped to my room. I drifted into an uneasy sleep, only to be jolted awake by a voice that chilled me to the bone. Yes! It worked, Mom! She drank it! My eyes flew open. Audrey’s face loomed over me. She was holding a dropper, squeezing the foul liquid into my mouth! My mind went blank. I scrambled to the bathroom, jamming my fingers down my throat, trying to vomit. The taste of that cursed potion was unbearable. The commotion brought everyone running. Audrey looked nervous. “Don’t throw it up, Vivian! I swear, there’s nothing wrong with it!” she pleaded. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll drink it myself!” And right there, in front of everyone, she drank the remaining contents of the bowl. But the fetus’s voice rang out once more, smug and triumphant. Don’t worry, Mom. I can only transfer to the first person who drinks the potion! My heart leaped. The first one? That was Rusty. I stopped trying to throw up. A cold, hard glare fixed on her. “You sneak into my room at night to force-feed me a potion. What’s next, trying to murder me for my money?” I turned to my husband. “Audrey is fired.” “You can collect your final paycheck tomorrow and leave,” Marcus added, his voice firm. Audrey’s eyes filled with tears as she turned to my mother-in-law. “Mrs. Collins… I was only trying to help.” My mother-in-law looked torn. “Her mother was with me for so many years,” she murmured. “We can’t just throw her out.” As they stood in a stalemate, the fetus’s voice chirped excitedly. Mom! The transfer was a success! A triumphant smile almost broke through Audrey’s pitiful facade. She quickly suppressed it and swore, “Please, just give me one more chance. If Vivian isn’t pregnant this time, I’ll leave immediately!” Seeing that my mother-in-law was about to plead her case again, I waved a tired hand. Fine. Let her stay. The dog was pregnant, not me. Audrey would be gone soon enough. With that settled, I finally felt a sense of relief. As an apology for the family drama, Marcus bought me a new designer handbag. I was in a good mood, so I dragged him to the grocery store. As we passed the seafood section, a wave of intense nausea hit me, and I threw up right there on the floor. A kind employee handed me a paper towel. “Oh, honey, looks like you’ve got a case of morning sickness.” Morning sickness? Impossible. I rushed to the nearest pharmacy and bought three pregnancy tests. Back home, the three minutes it took for the results to appear felt like an eternity. The first test: two pink lines. The second: two pink lines. The third: still two pink lines. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Rusty drank the potion. Why was I pregnant? Marcus burst through the bathroom door. He saw the tests, let out a whoop of joy, and pulled me into a kiss. “Vivian! We’re pregnant!” He spread the news to the whole family. I couldn’t even manage a smile. The house was filled with joy as they discussed what to buy, while Rusty wagged his tail and trotted around my feet. I stared at him, watching him jump and play. His belly wasn’t swollen at all. Could it be? The potion didn’t work on dogs? My last sliver of hope crumbled. I wanted to pound on my own stomach. Was I doomed to die at the hands of Audrey and her demonic offspring all over again? No! Absolutely not! The room started to spin. Nausea churned in my stomach. I turned to my family and shouted, “We can’t keep this baby! We have to get rid of it!” I grabbed Marcus’s sleeve, my voice frantic. “Take me to the hospital, now! We can’t keep this child!” Marcus pulled away, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Vivian! This is the baby we’ve been waiting for!” Tears streamed down my face. I was desperate. I grabbed the car keys and made a run for the door. My mother-in-law reacted instantly, wrapping her arms around me with surprising strength. “Vivian! Don’t do something foolish! This is a life! This is your baby!” Seeing the confusion and hurt on their faces, the last thread of my composure snapped. “This baby has to be aborted,” I screamed, “or it will kill us all!” They all stared at me, then at each other. “Vivian, did you have a nightmare?” “How can an unborn baby kill an entire family?” Seeing their disbelief, the fetus gloated inside me. You want to abort me? Not a chance! My mom has everything planned. Just then, Audrey rushed in, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. “I found this when I was doing the laundry…” she announced, holding up a medical report. “It says Vivian has an anxiety disorder! She must be having an episode, that’s why she wants to get rid of the baby!” Her words were like gasoline on a fire. My father-in-law’s face turned purple with rage, his finger jabbing at my nose. “This is a Collins baby! Who are you to say we should get rid of it?!” “Henry, don’t you dare!” my mother-in-law cried, jumping between us. She turned to me, her voice pleading. “Vivian, we’ve waited so long for this baby. Whatever you’re worried about, I’ll fix it, okay?” Tears blurred my vision. I knew how much this meant to her, how much it meant to me. But the agony of my last death was a fresh wound. I couldn’t go through that again. “Marcus,” I said, my voice shaking but firm, “either we terminate this pregnancy, or we get a divorce.” The color drained from his face. He held up a hand to quiet his parents and finally relented. “Okay, Vivian. Whatever you want.” Audrey rushed forward, her face a mask of concern. “She’s not in her right mind! If you let her do this, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life!” I slapped her hard across the face. “This is none of your business! You’re fired!” This time, I saw it. The undisguised hatred in her eyes. She looked at me as if I were already dead. No matter what my mother-in-law said, Marcus personally wrote Audrey’s termination letter. She cried a river of tears. My mother-in-law insisted on one last dinner, to part on good terms. Audrey stopped protesting. She was silent through the meal, through the cleanup. As she walked out the door, she looked up at me on the second-floor landing, her eyes burning with resentment. Somehow, even though I had an appointment for the abortion the next day, a deep sense of unease settled over me. That night, a commotion woke me up. My mother-in-law had collapsed in the bathroom from a sudden heart palpitation. The ambulance rushed her to the hospital. After emergency open-heart surgery, the doctor delivered the grave news. “She has idiopathic malignant arrhythmia. She can’t handle any stress, or her heart could fail. She needs 24/7 monitoring.” Looking at my mother-in-law’s pale, still face, my heart sank. She’d had a heart condition for years, but it had been stable. Why would it suddenly become so severe? Just then, two figures burst into the room. “Mrs. Collins! What happened?!” It was Audrey and her mother. Their grief seemed so genuine, but alarm bells were screaming in my head. Sure enough, they immediately offered to take over her care. “She can’t be left alone! Let me and Audrey stay with her! No one knows how to take care of her better than we do!” Despite my objections, my father-in-law agreed. Outside the room, Marcus stood in silence for a long time. Finally, he turned to me, his voice quiet. “Vivian. Let’s keep the baby.” I stared at him, incredulous. “We agreed to go tomorrow!” “My mother is in this state! And you still want to put her through more stress?!” It was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such coldness. I trembled, and his face crumpled in despair. “Do you really not want to have our child?” I couldn’t speak. A sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. A vicious threat echoed in my head. You bitch! My mom already took care of the old hag. If you still try to get rid of me, I’ll kick you to death from the inside! It was him. He was doing this. I looked at Marcus, my voice a desperate plea. “This baby has to go. We can have other children, later…” My father-in-law suddenly clutched his chest and fell to his knees before me. “Vivian, I’m an old man with liver cancer. I’m begging you. Please, just grant me and your mother this one wish!” “Enough!” Marcus roared, his eyes red. He scooped me up and carried me out of the hospital. I was a prisoner in my own home. The bedroom door was locked. Bars were installed on the windows. The balcony door was sealed shut. And Audrey was back, under the guise of being my caretaker. She doted on me just like in my previous life, while the thing in my belly cursed me day and night. No matter how much I fought, it was useless. Marcus was torn with guilt and pain, but he just kept repeating the same plea. “Vivian, please. For me. Just have this baby.” I couldn’t bear to see him like this. It wasn’t his fault, or his parents’. The source of all this evil was Audrey and the thing she had put inside me. Once I calmed down, I called the most famous private investigator in our social circle. “Money is no object. I need it done fast.” I was certain that if Audrey was using poison, she must have left a trail. The days that followed felt like a death march. My hope dwindled. I even started to think that killing myself would be better than letting them kill me. Two months later, I was at my breaking point. Then, the evidence arrived.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390206”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel