Category: English

While video chatting with my boyfriend, his roommates started teasing him, clamoring to see me. I was smiling demurely when suddenly the phone was snatched away. A magnetic voice laced with laughter rang out: “Don’t be stingy, let the bros see what our sister-in-law looks like.” The next second, I was face to face with my ex-boyfriend, with whom I had an extremely messy breakup. The smile on his face gradually disappeared. After a long while, the corner of his mouth twitched: “Fuck.” 1 The moment that person bent down, the silver chain with a star pendant hanging from his collarbone brushed past the camera. And my breath stopped the second I clearly saw his brows and eyes. Sweat rolled down Caleb Vance’s sharp jawline into the open collar of his jersey. He stared at the screen, stunned for two seconds, pupils dilating violently! “…Fuck.” The next second, the phone was thrown somewhere unknown. The screen went black for a moment before being hurriedly picked up. Ethan Wells held the phone, dissatisfied: “What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?!” Caleb paused for a moment, then scoffed: “You have terrible taste.” Ethan, usually so gentle, rarely lost his temper, but now he said coldly: “My girlfriend is wonderful, don’t talk nonsense.” “Yeah, sister-in-law is so pretty. I think she’s even prettier than the beauty queen of the foreign language department. Caleb, what’s wrong with your eyes?” “If I could date someone like this, I’d be willing to eat instant noodles for three years!” “Get lost, I’d be willing to eat them for ten years—” His roommates started making noise, and Caleb didn’t speak again. Ethan picked up the phone: “Sorry Stella, he might have lost a basketball game today and is in a bad mood.” A gritted-teeth voice came from over there: “I won, won by 20 points!” Ethan didn’t change his expression: “Then he’s just brain-dead. Stella, I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight.” … After hanging up the video call, I lay back quietly on the bed. The midsummer sunlight was a bit dazzling, so I covered my eyes with my arm. It seems like I haven’t seen Caleb for three years. I didn’t expect him to still be wearing the star necklace I gave him. Such a cheap thing. I still remember the price tag was only $19.99, and the couple’s set was 50% off, so it was only ten bucks. Mine was thrown away somewhere by me long ago. He didn’t seem to have changed much, yet seemed to have changed a lot. Clearly still that face, but after maturing, his edge seemed sharper. Like a gem cut with angles, the unruly nature between his brows couldn’t be suppressed. I suddenly remembered three years ago, before we took the college entrance exam (SATs). Caleb was also wearing a jersey like this, standing downstairs at my place, begging me with red eyes. “From now on, I’ll listen to whatever you say. If you don’t like me contacting her, I’ll never interact with her again. “We agreed to go to the same university—” His voice became hoarse, a glint flashing in his eyes in the night: “As long as we don’t break up, I’ll agree to anything you say, okay?” He looked so pitiful, almost about to kneel and beg me. But I just looked at him expressionlessly for a while and whispered: “Caleb Vance, I changed my college application. “I’m not going to Tech U anymore.” 2 My romance with Caleb began with childhood sweethearts losing to a destined encounter, and ended with the destined encounter losing to childhood sweethearts. In my sophomore year of high school, I transferred and immediately became first in the grade. At that time, teachers liked to seat a good student with a poor student to help them improve, so I was arranged to sit next to Caleb. But Caleb had absolutely no interest in studying; instead, he was very interested in me. Either pulling my hair or taking my pen and holding it high, then looking down with a wicked smile. “Stella Cheng, you’re so short.” He passed me notes in class. I opened one to see a stick figure of me. Just as I wanted to scold him for being bored, the teacher saw the note, displayed it publicly, and then made us both stand outside as punishment. I was a standard good student back then and had never suffered such grievance. I pushed Caleb with red eyes. “Caleb Vance, are you sick!” He knew he was in the wrong and didn’t speak. After a while, he folded that note with the stick figure into a star and quietly stuffed it into my hand. I looked at that star and couldn’t help but smile through my tears. My relationship with Caleb gradually improved. I would force him to listen to my explanations until he understood, check his homework, and forbid him from copying answers. He would also wait downstairs every day to go to school and back home with me, and we would browse the accessory shop at the gate together. Ghost led me to buy two star chains and give him one. … Caleb was a popular figure in school—handsome, rich family, good at basketball. Who knows how many girls liked him. One of them blocked me and asked if I liked Caleb. Teenage pride and inexplicable annoyance made me subconsciously speak: “I won’t like someone whose grades are worse than mine.” The girl looked behind me. I turned around abruptly, only to find Caleb behind me. I don’t know how long he had been listening. He walked past me expressionlessly. After that, Caleb never actively sought me out again. He no longer talked to me in class, nor asked me to go to school together. We sat at the same desk, not saying an extra word every day. I wanted to explain to him, but he never gave me a chance. Until a year later, Caleb tied with me for first place with astonishing progress. That night he stopped me and said seriously: “Stella Cheng, my grades are no worse than yours now. Can you like me now?” To this day, the memories of that time are very blurry. I only remember the jacaranda flowers blooming like a sea in the school that day. When the petals were blown up by the wind, the boy’s eyes were brighter than a star explosion. The light crossed the vast universe of light years and fell straight into my heart. In that moment, I heard my own voice. “Okay.” We got together just like that. Young love was uncontrollable like a prairie fire. We stuck together every day. Caleb introduced me to all his brothers and even tattooed my name on his body. I said I wanted to test into Tech U, and he said he wanted to go to the same university as me. His mom was overjoyed at his sudden motivation. Fortunately, my grades didn’t drop either, so parents and teachers simply turned a blind eye. We became the only openly dating couple in the school. At that time, I really thought we would go on forever. Until I discovered there was always a girl more important than me in his heart. 3 Caleb had a childhood friend who grew up with him, named Gigi. Gigi’s father was a driver for Caleb’s father in the early years. In a car accident where the car fell into the sea, he risked his death to save Caleb’s dad but didn’t have the strength to get ashore himself and passed away just like that. Caleb’s dad was a very kind person. He immediately waved his hand and took in Gigi and her mother, saying he would treat Gigi as his own daughter and support them for life. Gigi and Caleb were inseparable since childhood. Even when we were dating, she didn’t restrain herself and followed us to and from school. Caleb and I fought a lot over this. Finally, Gigi stopped following us, but within two days, she suddenly appeared in front of me again, leaning on Caleb. “Sorry Stella, I know you don’t want to walk with me, but I sprained my ankle, and Caleb insisted on walking me home.” Caleb’s eyes were all on her, frowning and scolding her: “You didn’t tell me your foot was hurt. If I didn’t come to find you, did you plan to hop home on one foot?! Get on!” I still remember that day, Caleb carried Gigi on his back walking in front of me the whole time. Gigi lay on his back talking about funny things from their childhood, and I couldn’t interject a word. She acted coquettishly: “Caleb, my foot hurts so much!” I had never heard Caleb’s voice so gentle: “Foot hurts so much, what should we do?” “I want to eat the cake from the shop on the corner, the most expensive kind!” “Okay, I’ll take you home first and then go buy it for you.” “Caleb, can I walk with you in the future? When I walk alone, hooligans outside the school always stare at me, I’m so scared.” Caleb frowned: “Why didn’t you say so earlier? “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. In the future, if I’m not with you, you’re not allowed to walk alone.” Gigi laughed and looked back at me. “Okay.” … The setting sun stretched their shadows so long, inseparable. I fell further and further behind alone, but Caleb never looked back at me once. It wasn’t until he dropped Gigi home that he turned to me and said: “I have to go buy cake for Gigi, so I won’t walk you home today. “Stella, go home by yourself.” I looked at him for a long time, turned around, and left. 4 After that time, Caleb and I were in a cold war for a whole week. Caleb didn’t think he was wrong at first: “I always treat Gigi as a sister. How could I pretend not to see when her foot was injured?” I was expressionless: “Her foot was injured, she could call her mom to pick her up, she could call your family’s driver to pick her up. Why did she have to wait for you there?! “You treat her as a sister, does she treat you as a brother?! Dare you say you don’t know she likes you?!” Caleb’s eyes dodged, finally sighed and hugged me. “Stella, I really only like you. In the future, I will make it clear to her and keep a distance from her, okay?” I closed my eyes: “Okay.” After that, Caleb really went to find Gigi. Don’t know what he said to her, I only know Gigi cried out of the classroom and never looked for Caleb again. I thought this matter was resolved. Unexpectedly, one day Caleb suddenly frowned and found me, hesitatingly said: “Gigi said a guy from another school keeps pestering her. She rejected him several times but he still pesters her. Today he found a few of Gigi’s friends to hang out. She asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend to persuade that guy to back off.” Looking at my expression, he added: “Just one night, just let that guy retreat knowing the difficulty.” “Didn’t we agree before? Today sprained ankle needs you to carry home, tomorrow pestered needs you to pretend to be boyfriend, what about the day after tomorrow?!” Caleb’s temper wasn’t good, but when with me he always patiently coaxed me: “If it weren’t for saving my dad back then, Gigi’s dad wouldn’t have died, and she would have a father to protect her now. I really can’t ignore her. Just this once, if you’re worried, come with me, okay?” Words came to this, I knew arguing with Caleb further wouldn’t have any result, could only agree. “Only one day, I’ll go with you guys.” Caleb smiled, cupped my face and kissed me. “Wifey is really so understanding, love you the most!” 5 That night was my first time going to a bar. Sure enough, a very strong and tall boy was surrounding Gigi. Not ugly, just looked slippery, constantly trying to put his arm on her. Caleb stepped forward, pushed him away, pulled Gigi into his arms, and looked at the boy with pressed brows. “Keep your hands to yourself, she’s my girlfriend.” Caleb learned kickboxing since elementary school. When he had a cold face, his aura directly suppressed the boy into silence. Others quickly smoothed things over: “Want to play Truth or Dare? Zach is treating tonight, everyone order drinks, don’t be polite!” Zach was the boy pestering Gigi. Heard his family was involved in gangs, stores on this street had to pay protection money to his dad. He was a classmate of Gigi’s friend’s boyfriend, from a vocational high school. Started chasing Gigi after meeting her at a dinner with friends. Gigi rejected him many times but he didn’t give up. This gathering of a circle of friends for dinner was also to confirm if Gigi really had a boyfriend as she said. Caleb scoffed lightly, threw a Centurion Black Card on the table. “No need, I’ll pay for all expenses tonight.” Everyone’s eyes were attracted by that black card. A girl’s eyes lit up: “Is this the legendary black card? Gigi, you’re really not authentic, having such a handsome and rich boyfriend and not telling us!” Gigi smiled and leaned on Caleb. My fingers clenched slightly. Caleb looked at me subconsciously. I turned my head away not to meet his eyes. Zach’s face turned dark. His bro’s girlfriend might be afraid he and Caleb would fight, so she raised a wine bottle: “Let’s play Truth or Dare, whoever the bottle points to is it!” After a few rounds, everyone chose Truth, and no one asked any very outrageous questions. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking tonight would pass like this, the bottle suddenly stopped in front of Gigi. She smiled and tucked her bangs behind her ear: “I choose Dare.” My heart sank fiercely, a bad premonition floated up. Sure enough, the next second the girl beside her excitedly said: “Then choose a boy present to kiss, a French kiss!” Gigi blushed, gaze falling on Caleb. Caleb’s expression stiffened slightly, subconsciously frowning. “Then I choose—” Amidst Zach’s increasingly ugly face, Gigi pointed at Caleb without hesitation. Caleb kept a straight face. “Change the dare.” The girl raised an eyebrow: “Aren’t you boyfriend and girlfriend? What’s there to be embarrassed about? Kiss, kiss!” Everyone started chanting. Zach’s eyes became suspicious: “Are you really Gigi’s boyfriend?” Gigi raised a smile: “Of course.” Her beautiful eyes carried a trace of pleading, climbing onto Caleb’s forearm, red lips slightly parted: “Caleb…” My heart slowly turned cold. Caleb stiffly let Gigi approach him. Just a second before their lips touched, I stood up abruptly! His face turned slightly sideways, and Gigi’s kiss landed on the corner of his mouth. He reached out in panic to pull me, but was violently thrown off by me! Ignoring the surprised expressions of everyone present, I walked out the door quickly.

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Seven years ago, Lucas Reed and I broke up because we were from different worlds. Seven years later, I’m a corporate executive earning a million a year. And Lucas, bankrupt, has become a delivery guy. Looking at the still handsome man in front of me, I casually handed him a bank card. “Five thousand a month. I’ll be your sugar mommy.” Lucas accepted the card with utter humiliation. The day after he moved into my place, I accidentally heard him on the phone: “I’m busy, don’t bother me with small projects worth five hundred million.” 1 I never thought my reunion with Lucas would be so dramatic. “Hello ma’am, your delivery.” Lucas held the bag with one hand, slowly putting away his impatient expression. He narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down several times before asking in disbelief: “Sophia?” I looked up at Lucas in a daze. Haven’t seen him for seven years, he’s still so handsome. The yellow delivery uniform worn on his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs looked like luxury haute couture. Earlier this year, I heard classmates chatting occasionally, saying Lucas’s family seemed to have gone bankrupt. I didn’t take it to heart at the time. A starved camel is still bigger than a horse. No matter what happened to the Reed family, they were much better off than us ordinary people, not my place to sympathize. But I never expected Lucas to be reduced to delivering food. Graduated from a prestigious school, looking like a supermodel, what job couldn’t he find? Why deliver food? Lucas, how have you been these years? Are you married? Do you have kids? A thousand words turned into one sentence on my lips: “You’re late.” Lucas was stunned, then chuckled, his eyes curved like crescents. “Sophia, haven’t seen you for years, you’re still so funny.” I just looked at him silently. I understand, I understand everything. The favored son of heaven fell to the mortal world, and was bumped into by his ex-girlfriend at his most down-and-out moment. Besides using jokes to alleviate embarrassment, he could do nothing. 2 “You have an order that is late, please deliver it as soon as possible.” The phone Lucas placed on his chest vibrated non-stop, interrupting my thoughts. He frowned, took out his phone, and chose to turn it off without hesitation. I was stunned by his willful operation. “I heard a late order deducts 20 bucks, you must be losing a lot of money.” “Can you afford to raise a wife and kids?” Lucas put the phone in his pocket nonchalantly. “One person full, the whole family not hungry.” Oh, so he is still single. My gaze slowly moved down from Lucas’s face, finally settling on his lower abdomen. Haven’t seen him for years, are his abs still as shaped as before? Last month I went to see a Chinese doctor for irregular periods, and the doctor suggested I find a boyfriend. He said it was endocrine disorders due to being single for too long. If I really didn’t have a boyfriend, looking at handsome guys more would also work. Handsome guy, isn’t he here? “Sophia, you’re drooling.” I flusteredly raised my sleeve to wipe the corner of my mouth, only to find Lucas was tricking me. He looked at my awkward and embarrassed appearance, chest vibrating, laughing until tears came out. “Sophia, you’re so cute.” Cute? Cute my ass! I turned angry from embarrassment, suddenly remembering our unpleasant breakup experience. 3 Lucas and I were college classmates. He was low-key and didn’t deliberately show off his wealth. And I didn’t know his family background was amazing until graduation. At that time, Lucas invited me to his house as a guest. I used my internship salary saved for several months to carefully prepare gifts. Lucas’s mom threw them to the nanny casually, saying these defective products wouldn’t even be eaten by their nanny, asking the nanny to give them to poor relatives in the countryside. Lucas’s sister even took out a photo, telling me their family planned to arrange a marriage with this girl. In another two months, the beautiful girl in the photo would become Lucas’s fiancée. “Oh, don’t worry, my brother is very generous.” “Before breaking up, he will definitely give you a breakup fee.” I was still very young then. Except for fragile pride and self-esteem, I had nothing. When Lucas chased out from the bathroom, I had already run far away and blocked all his contact information. After the breakup, I spent a dark time. My best friend couldn’t bear to see me washing my face with tears every day and went to question Lucas. But Lucas’s attitude was extremely cold, saying something like he misjudged me. I gave up completely and threw all my energy into work. Men will change their hearts, work won’t. All the time and energy you put in will be rewarded. Just like now. I remembered the humiliation his family once inflicted on me, and blood rushed up. That’s called anger rising from the heart, evil growing to the gall. I turned back into the room, and under Lucas’s surprised gaze, took out a bank card from my bag and handed it to him, with a slow and arrogant attitude. “Lucas, working hard delivering food, you can’t make much money a month, right?” “Why not follow me, I’ll give you a salary of 5,000 a month, how about it?” 4 Lucas didn’t speak, just stared at my slender and fair fingers. Just when my arm was getting sore, he suddenly lowered his head and responded softly, almost inaudibly. “Okay.” Looking at his sad and heartbroken appearance, fragile enough to shatter, I felt I was about to shatter too. 5,000! That’s 5,000 dollars a month! I just wanted to humiliate him, why did he agree? Shouldn’t he slap away my bank card, drop a sentence “Don’t bully the middle-aged poor” and then turn around and leave? Heaven knows what I paid for this million-dollar annual salary! Although my annual salary is a million, that’s pre-tax. After deducting various taxes and social security, I only get about 60,000 a month in hand. My hand holding the bank card was trembling slightly. Lucas tried to pull the card from my hand, failing three times. “Sophia, you don’t actually have money, do you?” Lucas looked teasingly, the corners of his thin and shaped lips turned up, pulling a mocking smile lightly. I really wanted to admit I was posturing. But my self-esteem didn’t allow it. So I let go, tossing my head arrogantly. “Work hard, serve me well, salary doubles.” Lucas left with my card with an extremely complicated expression. He didn’t take the card, but my heart. I decided, no matter how well he does, I will nitpick. A month later, fire him on the grounds of poor service. This way I only lose 5,000 dollars, okay okay, not too much. 5 “Where is he?” “Where is the person?!” Bestie Chloe rushed into my house with messy hair, wearing cartoon pajamas, mask not yet peeled off her face. I put down my phone and rolled my eyes at her. “You’re fast enough.” Just finished talking to her about Lucas, less than five minutes, she arrived. Her apartment complex isn’t close to mine, takes more than ten minutes to drive, at least half an hour if there’s traffic. “Cut the crap, where’s Lucas?!” “Left of course, won’t come until tomorrow night.” Chloe bounded in front of me like a rabbit, winking ambiguously at me. “Thought about how to humiliate him yet?” “Whip, candle, and handcuffs?” “Two sets of butler outfits?” Butler outfits? What butler outfits, the kind of sexy apron revealing eight-pack abs, or… Thinking of Lucas wearing an apron with that ascetic and cold face, I felt heat all over my body. Especially in the lower abdomen, besides heat, there was a familiar soreness. I pressed Chloe’s face and pushed her away, running quickly to the toilet. After a long time, a muffled groan came from the toilet. “Chloe, I got my period.” “Seems like there’s no pads at home, go buy some for me.” Chloe poked half a head from the door, looking amazed. “My god!” “If I remember correctly, you haven’t had a period for two months, right?” “Period that Chinese medicine couldn’t bring down, came after seeing Lucas once?” “Exciting!” I casually picked up the tissue beside me and threw it at her face. “Get out!” 6 The next morning I was woken up by the doorbell. With messy hair, I stared dumbfounded at the row of huge suitcases at the door. Lucas raised an eyebrow, revealing a brilliant smile at me. “Good morning, sugar mommy.” I grabbed his wrist, staring incredulously at the watch that looked very expensive. “It’s only six in the morning, bro!” “This watch is fake, high-end imitation,” Our voices sounded at the same time. Lucas withdrew his wrist, calmly took off the watch and stuffed it into his bag. “Didn’t you say perform well and salary doubles?” “Of course I have to be diligent.” Damn it! Actually having this kind of thought! Lucas pushed the suitcase and walked very naturally into my bedroom. Seeing he was about to hang clothes in my closet, I hurried to stop him. “What are you doing?” Lucas blinked innocently. “Didn’t you say serve you?” “How to serve you without living together?” The last few words, he leaned into my ear to say, deliberately using a vocal fry. “You, you you.” My face flushed red, feeling Lucas really fell. To make money, actually wanted to seduce me. Seems his life hasn’t been easy these years. The flower of the high mountains fell from the altar, finally knowing the value of money. “Your room is over there, I’m used to sleeping alone.” Lucas pushed the luggage and strode away, his back revealing a bit of disappointment. Disappointment? Must be me overthinking.

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It was three a.m. I’d just managed to settle the baby, my entire body aching, when I picked up my phone and scrolled past a post on a daddy-forum: [URGENT! Girlfriend is pushing hard. How to divorce my wife while she’s still breastfeeding?] A few jokers had commented below: [Tough luck, buddy. The law protects the ‘lactating liabilities’ until the milk dries up. You’d need her to file first.] The phrase lactating liabilities made my stomach clench with cold, physiological revulsion. I was about to close the app when I saw an unusually detailed reply. [Pro-tip: Take your paternity leave and go on a two-week trip with your parents. Wait for her to hit rock bottom from solo-parenting exhaustion. When you file, everyone will just assume she’s suffering from postpartum psychosis.] An ice-cold shiver crawled up my spine. Just hours ago, my husband, Adam, had finalized the tickets for a trip next week—a “paternity leave” vacation to The Caribbean to attend his sister’s ‘graduation.’ I turned my head to look at Adam, who was deeply asleep next to me, and in that instant, I made a decision. Later, I would recall this moment. Much later, when he was begging me on his knees. 1 Adam dropped the trip bombshell during dinner. The incision from my C-section was throbbing, a dull ache beneath the mesh maternity underwear. “Can’t we wait until I’ve finished the first six weeks?” I asked quietly. His face instantly clouded over. “Claire! How can you be so selfish! My parents have been looking forward to Madison’s ceremony for years!” I wanted to laugh. His sister, Madison, a twenty-something with no ambition, had used their parents’ retirement savings to get a vanity degree abroad. The one-year course had been creatively stretched into three. I took a deep breath, trying to be reasonable. “I just had major abdominal surgery. I was counting on you to take your paternity leave and help me.” “Then have your mother come help,” he waved a dismissive hand. “You’re an only child; it’s the least she can do.” My heart sank. My parents had bankrolled so much for our little family. They’d even put down the deposit for a swanky postpartum retreat for me, which Adam’s mom, Sharon, had insisted we cancel. She’d promised she could “handle the baby care,” and they took the cash instead. Now, they’d banked the money and still expected my mother to step in. The issue caused tension that night. When our daughter, Zoe, cried, Adam pretended to be asleep, pulling the covers over his head. When Zoe’s wails continued, Sharon, sleeping in the guest room, didn’t bother knocking before storming into our bedroom. “Claire! What are you doing?” I scrambled to pull the blanket higher over my chest. “Mom, I’m nursing Zoe. Could you knock next time, please?” Sharon glared at the baby in my arms and scoffed. “A girl, and you treat her like the Duchess of Cambridge! Just quiet her down, don’t wake my son! This household relies on his income, you know!” I scoffed internally. Adam made about eighty thousand a year, but half of it went straight to his sister’s upkeep. The rest was sunk into his car payment and eating out. I hadn’t seen a single cent go into the joint account. Whenever I dared ask him to buy diapers or formula, he’d lecture me about being financially irresponsible and frivolous. The sad irony? My own seventy-thousand salary covered the mortgage (which my parents gifted us the downpayment for), the utilities, and the $300 monthly allowance for his mom. Suppressing a surge of anger, I forced a question: “Mom, could you maybe pitch in and mix a bottle of formula for me?” Sharon instantly exploded. “Formula? What are you, made of money? Why aren’t you just breastfeeding? It’s free!” I inhaled slowly. “I’m not producing enough. Zoe is still hungry.” Sharon wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Fine. But I have to go pack for the trip.” As soon as she left, I reached for Adam’s phone on the nightstand. The passcode was still our wedding anniversary. I checked his main social media and messaging apps, finding nothing immediately incriminating. But the original poster mentioned his girlfriend was “pushing hard.” Maybe it wasn’t Adam? I changed tactics and searched for anything related to Madison. Madison’s Instagram was wide open: endless photos of parties, shopping sprees, and exotic trips. I scrolled through them one by one. Finally, three months back, in a set of photos from a beach vacation, I saw the flicker of something wrong. It was a casual shot of Madison and another girl, arms around each other, laughing at the camera. My eyes snagged on the other girl’s wrist. She was wearing a watch—the limited-edition automatic I’d saved up for a year to buy Adam for his birthday. He’d practically cried when I gave it to him. “Honey! I’m the luckiest man in the world!” Now, that watch was on a stranger’s arm. I zoomed in, carefully studying the girl’s face. She was beautiful, with the bright, carefree radiance of someone who had never had to worry about a thing. I saved the photo. 2 The next morning, Adam grimaced and rolled over at the sound of Zoe’s cries. “Claire, feed her.” In the past, I would have instantly pushed through the pain of my episiotomy stitches and felt a wave of guilt for disturbing his rest. But today, I just lay there, my expression calm. “My stitches are too sore, I can’t move. Go warm up the pumped milk in the fridge. The bottle sterilizer has a clean one.” Adam froze. He hadn’t expected me to delegate a task so directly. He paused for a few seconds before reluctantly dragging himself out of bed. “Why are your stitches suddenly bothering you? You were fine yesterday.” “Postpartum recovery is a roller coaster, darling,” I lowered my eyes, masking the cold steel in my gaze. “Thank you for helping, honey.” That last sentence seemed to appease him, easing the resentment in his movements. He fumbled clumsily through warming and feeding the milk. I watched him from the bed. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the blackout curtains, illuminating the dust motes in the air. Everything looked normal. But I knew: something had irrevocably shattered. After the feeding, Adam went back to scrolling on his phone. Holding a now quiet Zoe, I began my careful probing. “Is the Caribbean trip all sorted? Have Mom and Dad finished packing? Do you want me to look over their lists?” Adam didn’t look up, his thumb flying across the screen. “It’s all handled. Don’t worry about it, just focus on your recovery.” A faint smile played on his lips, and it was excruciatingly irritating. “What’s the exact address for Maddie’s ceremony? I’ll send her a care package—some nice treats from home. I bet she’s homesick,” I continued, my voice gentle. Adam’s scrolling finger paused for a fraction of a second. His tone, however, remained casual. “Don’t bother. She can buy anything she needs there. Besides, we’re taking her tons of stuff.” “Oh, really? Like what? I’m looking for ideas for later.” He sounded impatient now, finally looking up at me, a slight furrow in his brow. “Just some clothes, snacks, toiletries. Why the sudden interest in Maddie today?” I laughed inwardly. I used to genuinely treat his sister like my own. I never questioned the money transfers or the extravagant gifts. Now, I realized my foolishness. That money hadn’t been just for her. “No reason. We’re family. A little concern is appropriate.” I smiled, dropping the subject. Over the next few days, I became abnormally compliant and considerate, offering no further objections to the trip. The night before they left, Adam spent a very long time in the bathroom. The water rushed, drowning out any other sound. I stood outside the door with Zoe, seeing only his vague, shifting shape through the frosted glass. Hah. He was probably reporting the itinerary to the “girlfriend who’s pushing hard.” A dull ache settled in my chest, but mostly, I felt numb. I silently walked away and pulled the property deed and the pre-nuptial agreement from the back of the bedroom dresser. This apartment was bought outright by my parents with their life savings; it was my separate pre-marital property. Adam’s family had symbolically contributed some money toward renovation costs, but my name was the only one on the title. I traced the raised lettering on the cover. A plan, clean and sharp, crystallized in my mind. 3 The day they left, Adam dragged two enormous suitcases. His parents were dressed to the nines, their faces beaming with the undisguised euphoria of escaping childcare. “Okay, honey, we’re off. Take good care of yourself and the baby.” Adam gave me a perfunctory hug at the door. I resisted the urge to push him away instantly. Sharon also offered a hand-squeeze, an act of false comfort. “Claire, you’ve been a star. We’ll be back as soon as Madison’s ceremony is over.” I smiled and nodded. “Maddie’s graduation is a huge deal. I can handle things here. You all deserve a good vacation.” Adam looked at me, a flicker of something complicated in his eyes, quickly replaced by the relief of his impending freedom. He practically bolted out the door, not even bothering to glance back at the stroller where Zoe lay. You won’t blame me, Adam. I thought. I gave you one last chance to say goodbye to your daughter. As soon as the door clicked shut, I called the real estate agent downstairs. “Whoa, Claire,” the agent, Mike, sounded surprised. “Didn’t your husband already have my contact info? Why are you calling me?” I froze. My eyes narrowed instantly. “What do you mean? What did my husband contact you about?” “Adam called a few days ago to ask for a rush-sale quote on the condo. I told him to hold off, the market’s flat right now.” My heart turned to ice. Adam wasn’t just planning to leave me; he was already trying to liquidate my assets. “Yes, it is a rush sale,” I said, my voice steady. “Arrange a viewing as soon as possible.” Mike glanced at the baby in my arms. “Got it. I’ll send the paperwork to Adam’s WhatsApp later.” I cut him off. “No. Text it to me. He’s traveling internationally with his parents right now, so he won’t be checking his phone.” Mike raised an eyebrow in shock. “He’s traveling internationally? He left you alone right after giving birth?” I gave a dry, self-mocking smile. The thing that shocked an outsider was utterly normal to his family. After Mike left, I called my best friend, Jenna, who was a sharp family lawyer. “I have a case for you. A slam dunk: A divorce during the post-recovery period.” Jenna was immediately confident. “Absolutely. Who in their right mind picks a fight with a woman who’s just had a baby?” Seeing my silence, she sensed the gravity of the situation. “Wait—is it you?” I gave a wry chuckle. “Yep. Adam cheated. And planned my isolation.” Jenna gasped and immediately ordered me to stay put while she raced over. I was exhausted from solo-parenting when she arrived. Seeing her familiar, trustworthy face, I finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Jenna simultaneously consoled me and cursed Adam’s entire lineage. “That pathetic loser! How dare he betray you! Did he forget the lengths he went to convince you to marry him?” Adam and I had been college sweethearts. I was the good student, from the affluent family, with a string of admirers. Adam was the most unremarkable of them all. But he was persistent and seemed so devoted. When I had the flu, he ran to a dozen pharmacies to find my specific medication. When I had appendicitis, he carried me to the hospital, running for over an hour. It was these small acts of devotion that ultimately won me over. Now, at my most vulnerable, he was plotting to discard me. I took a deep breath, pulling myself out of the crushing emotional tide. “Jenna, I need you to do two things for me.” 4 While I waited for Jenna’s investigation results, I was impossibly busy. On one hand, I was a single parent to a newborn—dealing with the agonizing pain of engorgement and fragmented sleep. On the other, I was a real estate shark—working closely with the agent, coordinating viewings, and negotiating with buyers. My price was significantly below market value, and the title was clean. I quickly secured multiple cash offers. Meanwhile, I began swiftly packing up Zoe’s things and mine. Laughably, everything Zoe and I owned fit into a single suitcase. When Zoe was born, I’d wanted to buy a simple changing table. Adam had called me high-maintenance. Sharon had chimed in, saying I had “princess airs but not the princess budget.” I was dumbfounded. I was an only child from an affluent family whose parents had bought us a million-dollar condo. How was that not a princess budget? As for Adam’s and his parents’ belongings, I called a professional moving company and had everything boxed, cataloged, and donated to Goodwill or hauled away as trash. Three days later, Jenna sent me an encrypted file. I opened it: clear flight manifests, hotel reservation records, credit card statements, and a series of photos. The flight destination was Bangkok, Thailand, with a connecting flight to Phuket. They had never set foot in the States. The hotel was a high-end resort in Phuket—a sea-view villa. The reservation was under Adam Adams and his parents and Madison. But on the check-in day, a fourth guest was added, with an extra charge. The consumption receipts showed couples’ spa treatments, romantic dinners, and even a chartered private snorkeling trip for two. The photos were slightly grainy but unmistakable. Adam, in a floral shirt, his arm around a girl’s waist, laughing as they shared a coconut. Another photo showed Sharon and Gary, Adam’s parents, sitting on beach chairs, smiling warmly at their son and the girl, who were playing on a jet ski nearby. They looked as close as a prospective daughter-in-law. Jenna’s summary: “Brooke Linton, 25, unemployed, friend of Madison’s from her overseas stint. Frequent contact with Adam for the past six months. Madison was the facilitator.” A violent wave of nausea hit me. I ran to the bathroom and retched until I was dizzy. It wasn’t morning sickness; it was pure, physiological disgust. Afterward, I splashed cold water on my face and looked at the woman in the mirror: pale, slightly swollen, dark circles under my eyes, clothing stained with breast milk. I wiped my face and went back to the living room. The best cash offer was accepted. The deed transfer was expedited. I signed all the paperwork. A week later, Adam and his parents returned, lugging huge shopping bags, their faces glowing from the vacation. They pushed open the door and found a strange couple standing in their living room. Adam was stunned. “Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?” The new owner held up the deed. “The previous owner sold the place to us.” Adam snatched the paper, saw the new name on the title, and his face instantly went white. Sharon shrieked. “This is impossible! This is our home!” Just then, the doorbell rang. “Delivery for Adam Adams.” Adam ripped open the envelope, pulling out a Divorce Petition. My phone instantly exploded with calls and messages from him: “Claire, where are you?” “What did you do with the apartment?” “I’m sorry, let me explain…” “Please, just give me one more chance…”

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The week before Christmas, I flew home early to surprise my boyfriend. I was planning to propose, so I stopped by the flower shop near his office to pick out the perfect roses. While I was choosing, the woman next to me was on the phone, gushing to her friend about her boyfriend’s prowess. “You just can’t beat a younger guy’s stamina. He insisted on getting it on right there in the weight room at the gym. We went eight rounds last night.” She giggled. “He’s even bought us a house at the Oakhaven Estates, says he wants to give me and the baby a proper home. He’s meeting my parents right after work today.” Her friend on the line must have been skeptical. “A guy that perfect? Pictures or it didn’t happen.” The woman laughed and unlocked her phone. I couldn’t help but glance over. The man in the photo had a stunning side profile. But… wasn’t that my boyfriend? 1. Thorns of Blood “Honey, what’s taking you so long? My legs are killing me from standing around,” the woman cooed into her phone, her voice sickly sweet as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. I froze, my hand clenched around the bouquet of red roses I hadn’t even paid for yet. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. My mind was a complete blank. With trembling fingers, I sent a message to Grant, clinging to one last, desperate thread of hope. [Hey, Grant. It’s the night before Christmas Eve. Are you still stuck working late?] The woman beside me was still whining into her phone. “Don’t rush me, I can see your car. I’m coming out now.” Grant’s reply was instant. [In a critical meeting. It’s a total lockdown, they’re about to collect our phones. Be good, baby. Get yourself something nice for dinner.] We’d been together for over twenty years, high school sweethearts. When he was struggling to launch his startup, I borrowed money from my father to help him through the roughest patch. Once the company was stable, he gave me his debit card, the PIN set to my birthday. “Scarlett,” he’d said, “everything I have is yours.” Just last week, during a video call, he was holding the blueprints for the home we’d designed together, dreaming about our future. “Once we’re married, I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives.” I tried to soothe myself. Maybe I was just seeing things. Grant was still at work. A similar profile didn’t mean it was him. The woman hung up, grabbed a large bag of imported cherries she’d just bought, and clicked her way out of the shop on high heels. I couldn’t let it go. I followed her out of the flower shop, hiding in a shadowy corner. A black Audi A6 was parked by the curb. Grant had bought the exact same model when he was starting out, a way to project success. I’d maxed out three of my credit cards for him. I remember that day, he’d spun me around in the dealership, dizzy with excitement, and sworn, “The passenger seat is reserved for my wife, for life.” Now, as the car window rolled down, I saw that a pink lumbar pillow was nestled cozily in that very seat. And then I saw the face, a profile etched into my soul. Grant. The face I had loved for my entire life. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, and I couldn’t breathe. On our video calls, his brow was always furrowed with exhaustion. He’d complain about work, about needing rest. But now, his face was lit with a smile, his eyes soft and tender. “Daddy!” A small, innocent voice shattered the last of my sanity. A little boy, maybe three or four years old, with a chubby, adorable face, darted out from behind the woman and ran straight for Grant. Grant opened the door, got out, and swept the child up into the air. “Hey there, champ! Did you miss me?” “Yes!” the boy giggled, wrapping his arms around Grant’s neck. I stared, my blood running cold. “Scarlett, childbirth is too painful. I could never bear to see you suffer,” he’d told me once. To prove his devotion, he’d even gotten a vasectomy right in front of me. This picture-perfect family scene was a knife in my eye, and tears welled up, blurring my vision. The woman walked over and linked her arm through Grant’s, chiding him gently. “It’s freezing out here. Don’t hold him up so high, you’ll give him a chill.” Grant immediately lowered the boy, taking the woman’s bare hands in his and blowing on them to warm them up. “You’re right, my bad. Let’s get in the car.” She stood on her toes to straighten the scarf around his neck, which had been ruffled by the wind. It was the scarf I had spent half a month knitting for him last winter, stitch by painstaking stitch. The three of them, a happy little family. They got into the car with a seamless, practiced grace. And there I stood, under a streetlamp in the falling snow, a ridiculous, pathetic clown. The thorns of the roses in my hand had long since pierced my palm. Crimson drops of blood fell from my fingertips, staining the white snow. My hand shaking, I dialed Grant’s number. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently busy…” 2. Betrayal on Video The car’s red taillights disappeared at the end of the street. My phone buzzed again. A new message from Grant: [Just got out of the meeting. I’m exhausted, still have to type up the minutes. Go to sleep, baby, don’t wait up for me. Love you.] The man who once told me, “I will never lie to you,” was now spinning falsehoods without a flicker of hesitation. After all these years, I had never truly known him at all. When I first moved abroad, I would buy the cheapest, most inconvenient flights just to come home and see him. I once sat upright for over twenty hours, my back aching so badly I could barely stand. When I arrived at his apartment building, I called and asked if he could come down and help me with my luggage. “I just got off work myself,” he’d said. “I’m dead tired. Just carry it up yourself. Think of it as a workout.” Back then, my heart ached for him, for how hard he was working. I actually hauled two massive suitcases up six flights of stairs by myself. Now, I see he can be thoughtful. I just wasn’t the one who deserved it. A bitter smile twisted my lips. I stood in the biting wind for a long time, until my legs were numb with cold. I hailed a cab and checked into the nearest hotel. The room was warm, but a deep, chilling cold radiated from my very bones. I grabbed my phone and created a new, anonymous social media account. Using the tidbits of information I’d overheard in the flower shop, I started searching. For two hours, I scoured local accounts. Finally, a profile named “Lynn’s Happy Days” caught my eye. Her banner photo was the back of a man cooking in a kitchen. The broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the brand of loungewear, even the tiny, inconspicuous mole on the back of his neck… it was identical to Grant. I clicked on her feed and my fingers began to scroll mechanically. The past year was a dense tapestry of their cozy family life. May 20th: [Hubby took us to Disneyland! The baby got scared by the fireworks for the first time, and my husband was so patient, calming him down the whole time.] That day, I had ordered his favorite mechanical keyboard and had it shipped to him as a surprise. I waited up until midnight, but he never replied. The next day, he said: “We had a project launch yesterday. Pulled an all-nighter. My phone died.” Turns out, he was pulling an all-nighter watching fireworks at Disneyland. August 15th: [Spent the weekend car shopping with my husband. He said all that matters is that the baby and I are comfortable. The passenger seat is my throne. <3.jpg] That day, I had video-called him, and it was noisy in the background. He said he was entertaining a client. I thought I heard a woman’s laugh and asked about it. He exploded. “I’m out here killing myself to build a future for us, and you have the nerve to doubt me?” November 11th: [Hubby’s back from his business trip! He brought me a full set of La Mer. Mwah, love you!] Around that time, he’d told me cash flow was tight and asked to borrow fifty thousand dollars. He said it was an emergency, to make payroll for his employees. As I transferred the money, I was so worried about him that I sent an extra ten thousand for his living expenses. And then there was today… My stomach churned violently. With a shaking hand, I sent her a private message. [Is Grant your husband? Are you aware he has a fiancée?] Her reply was instant. A six-second video. I tapped play. The room was instantly filled with the sounds of heavy, ragged breathing and the violent rocking of a bed frame, all under dim, moody lighting. The camera shook, and for a fleeting moment, I saw Grant’s bare torso. His back was covered in angry, red scratches, and sweat trickled down the tense lines of his muscles. The video cut off. My hands and feet turned to ice. In all the years we’d been together, Grant had always insisted on waiting until marriage to be intimate. I had been so moved by his principles, thinking he was a modern-day saint, a once-in-a-lifetime man. Now, watching the rapacious stranger in that video, I felt like I didn’t know him at all. Another message arrived. A photo. In it, Grant was asleep in the woman’s arms, his brow smooth, sleeping as peacefully as a baby. My stomach seized. I scrambled to the bathroom, barefoot, and collapsed in front of the toilet, dry-heaving until my throat was raw. 3. The Severing in the ER The relentless barrage of emotional trauma was too much for my body. Before I could even pull myself up from the bathroom floor, a searing pain ripped through my abdomen. I curled up on the cold tiles, a cold sweat instantly soaking through my clothes. It was an old problem. Acute gastroenteritis. I remember it happening once in college, in the middle of the night. Grant had sprinted two miles in his slippers to a 24-hour pharmacy, then climbed the wall of the women’s dorm to bring me the medicine. He stood outside in the freezing wind all night, texting me every hour to ask if I was feeling any better. Now, the pain was just a bitter mockery of his betrayal. Summoning my last ounce of strength, I managed to get a cab to the nearest hospital, City General. The emergency room was a cacophony of noise and chaos, but I felt completely alone, adrift on a desolate island. A doctor pressed on my stomach, his brow furrowed. “This looks serious,” he said. “It could be a precursor to a ruptured appendix. We need to operate immediately. Is your family here?” My family… On the verge of blacking out, I instinctively dialed the number that was etched into my very being. It rang. And rang. Just as I thought it would go to voicemail, he picked up. “Hello?” In the background, I could hear a child’s piercing cries and a woman’s soft, soothing voice. “Grant…” I whispered, my voice hoarse and weak. “I’m back in the country. I’m at City General, in the ER. The doctor says I need surgery…” His voice on the other end was frantic. “You’re back? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m out of town on a business trip right now, I can’t possibly make it back.” Lies. More lies. “Out of town.” I closed my eyes, a tear escaping and tracing a cold path into my hair. “Out of town? Where?” “I’m… I’m in the next city over. Look, I can’t talk right now, there’s an emergency with the project here.” Just then, the woman’s anxious voice cut through from his end. “Grant! Hurry up, the baby has a fever! We need to go, get the car started!” The voice was crystal clear, a slap across my face. It sounded like he covered the receiver. “I know, stop shouting!” Then, back to me. “Scarlett, I really can’t get away, it’s urgent. Just hire a nurse, or call your parents. I have to go.” The line went dead. I clutched the phone, listening to the monotonous dial tone as my tears finally broke free. When I was five, I fell off a swing and gashed my knee. Grant carried me on his back for two miles to the clinic, crying the whole way. “Don’t be scared, Scarlett,” he’d sobbed. “I’ll protect you for the rest of our lives.” That promise had been my anchor through countless lonely nights in a foreign country. Now, it was nothing but a cruel joke. The doctor returned with the consent forms. “Miss, were you able to reach your family? If not, you can sign yourself, but there are risks with this surgery…” I wiped the tears from my face and took the pen. My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold it, but I scrawled my name in the signature box. “I’ll sign.” As they wheeled me into the operating room, I hit send on one last message. [Grant, we’re over.]

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When Caleb Thorne and I broke up, it was ugly. He, the proud, untouchable prodigy, knelt on the ground and begged me not to go. I only hesitated for a second before pulling my hand away and leaving without looking back. Four years later, I saw Caleb again. It was at a business dinner to sign the rights for my novel. He was the CEO, sitting at the head of the table, waiting for people to toast him. I was the small-time author sitting at the far end, waiting for him to greenlight the movie deal. He looked at me, his eyes calm and devoid of emotion, a cold smirk playing on his lips. “Drink three shots, and I’ll consider signing the contract.” 1 “Drink three shots, and I’ll consider signing the contract.” As Caleb’s words fell, the room went dead silent. Every eye at the table turned to me. Those gazes felt like needles. I stiffened. Sitting next to me was my editor, Sarah. She quickly stood up, holding her wine glass with a slight bow. “Our Lana isn’t much of a drinker, Mr. Thorne. Can I drink this one for her?” Caleb didn’t speak. Sarah froze, caught in an awkward limbo. The tension was palpable. Caleb was openly putting me on the spot. The original investor had been arrested for fraud, and now the entire production crew was praying Caleb would take over. If he walked, the project was dead. I exhaled slowly. “It’s okay, Sarah.” I looked at Caleb, trying to find a trace of the boy I once knew in his sharp, defined features. “If I drink, you’ll sign?” “If you drink, I’ll sign.” His gaze held a cold mockery that ignited a spark of anger in my chest. I reached across the table for a glass of pink sparkling wine. Before I could touch it, a large hand covered the rim. Caleb nodded toward a bottle of high-proof whiskey next to it, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Drink that.” I paused. “What do you mean, Mr. Thorne?” “When you’re begging for something, you should show the proper attitude…” He tapped the table with his knuckle. “You taught me that.” Humiliation burned my cheeks. I gritted my teeth and grabbed the whiskey glass. One shot. Two shots. The burning liquid exploded in my throat. I couldn’t help but cough violently. As I raised the third glass to my lips, Caleb suddenly stood up and snatched it from my hand. “Forget it.” He tossed the glass aside. It hit the carpet with a dull thud, a dark stain spreading across the fabric. He didn’t even look at it, his voice cold. “Ms. Lane is coughing so much, people might think I’m bullying her.” The atmosphere relaxed slightly. The assistant director jumped in to smooth things over. “Mr. Thorne, technically Ms. Lane isn’t part of the crew. “Mr. Thorne, on behalf of the entire production team, I’ll drink to you.” The assistant director poured a full glass and downed it. He looked at Caleb, ready to pour another. But Caleb looked bored. He stared at me for a long moment, then scoffed. “Sit down.” 2 Halfway through the dinner, I finally found a chance to escape to the restroom. Cold water splashed on my burning face. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked pathetic. It was a complete reversal of our positions four years ago. Four years. It felt like a lifetime. Back then, his roommate called me, begging me to come see him. I couldn’t resist. I went. Caleb was drinking at a street stall, surrounded by seven or eight empty bottles. When he saw me, he instinctively smiled, then realized what was happening and grabbed my arm. “Lana.” He buried his face in my palm. His tears were hot, burning my skin. His voice was hoarse, begging. “Please don’t go. Don’t break up with me, okay?” I only hesitated for a second before pulling my hand away firmly. “No.” I remember exactly what I said. “Caleb, I’m tired. “I can’t pretend to like you for even one more second.” I stared blankly at the mirror, suddenly hearing voices from the stalls. “What’s the deal with Mr. Thorne and that Lana girl? Is he really going to drop the investment because of her?” “So annoying. She’s just a small-time author. She sold the rights, got her money, why did she have to come to this dinner? Was she aiming for Mr. Thorne?” “Maybe Mr. Thorne hates her because she tried to sleep her way to the top and failed. Hehe.” It was two production assistants. They seemed to be just touching up their makeup. Their voices faded as they left. A second later, their laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by nervous stammering. “Mr… Mr. Thorne.” Silence. Two seconds later, one of them gathered the courage to speak. “Mr. Thorne, we’ll head back now.” Caleb’s voice was low, laced with ice. “Don’t bother. “I’ll have HR contact you later.” The implication was clear. The two girls, who had been laughing a moment ago, started begging quietly, like chickens with their necks wrung. Caleb didn’t say another word, true to his reputation in the business world. The Midas touch. Cold and heartless. 3 A few minutes later, the voices outside finally died down. I walked out. A tall figure was leaning against the hallway wall. Head down, unlit cigarette between his fingers. Caleb hadn’t left. I pretended not to see him and tried to walk past, but he grabbed my arm. Not hard, but enough to make me stumble in my tipsy state and crash into his chest. Caleb didn’t push me away. He let me lean against him for support. He curled his lip. “Pretending you didn’t see me?” “Don’t move.” Dizziness washed over me like a tide. I gripped his sleeve, looking up with a frown. “…I’m gonna be sick.” Caleb’s muscles tensed, as if afraid I’d actually vomit on him. “You smell like smoke.” Caleb let out a scoff of disbelief. “Lana, are you for real? “I didn’t even light it.” “Oh.” The dizziness faded slightly. I let go and stood straight. Caleb was silent for a moment, then spoke suddenly. “I’m the CEO of Zenith Capital now. If I loosen my grip just a little, the investment amount could add a zero. “I heard from Director Shen that you went to Star Media before this. Begging people isn’t fun, is it?” The hint of ambiguity that had lingered vanished instantly. Four years later, Caleb still knew exactly how to hurt me. I had been writing for years without much success, but I clung to my pride. He wanted to break that pride. He wanted me to beg. I looked at Caleb and laughed. “Caleb, what do you want? “You want me to wag my tail and beg for mercy? You want me to regret breaking up with you? “Sorry. I already sold the rights. Even if the movie doesn’t get made, I did my part. “Sign the contract if you want. Burn it if you don’t.” I looked down at my phone and sent a message to Sarah. In the dim light, Caleb’s profile looked cold and rakish. He pressed his thin lips together and said nothing. Finally, I looked up and smiled. “Someone’s here to pick me up. Goodbye, Mr. Thorne.” 4 I got into Evan’s car. As we drove away, I saw Caleb still standing at the door. The alcohol made my temples throb. I looked away. “Thanks for picking me up, Evan.” The window rolled down, the night breeze blowing away the tension of the evening. Silence stretched until the car stopped at my apartment. Evan turned to me. “Did the signing not go well? The guy at the door… he looked familiar.” “Really? You probably saw wrong.” I was distracted. Despite my brave words, I was worried Sarah would text me saying Caleb had flipped the table and walked. Evan sighed. “Was that Caleb Thorne?” “Uh… what?” I froze. “You know him?” Evan’s voice was calm. “I remember he was your ex-boyfriend. Is that why you’re upset tonight?” I smiled awkwardly. “You remember that…” It made sense. In college, Caleb was a star. Finance department hunk, gold medal debater, scholarship winner. When people mentioned me, it was always just, “Oh, Caleb’s girlfriend. She’s kinda plain.” Out of some strange pride, I rarely let Caleb come to my department. I didn’t think Evan would remember. My phone pinged, saving me from the awkwardness. Sarah: 【Are you okay? Mr. Thorne said you weren’t feeling well and left early. Good news: Mr. Thorne said we’ll sign tomorrow.】 As I read it, another message popped up. An unsaved number, but I recognized it instantly. Unknown: 【The movie is shooting. You’re the on-set screenwriter. I’ll have someone bring you the contract tomorrow.】 I paused. This was actually good for me. Many authors lose control of the plot after selling the rights. Being a screenwriter meant I could protect my story. Caleb letting me participate was surprisingly decent. Thinking of this, I said goodbye to Evan in a better mood, missing the hesitant look on his face. Evan smiled. “If you need anything, call me anytime.” 5 I dreamed of Caleb for the first time in ages. In the dream, we were sophomores. I was a substitute debater for the Literature department because the original member got sick. The opposing fourth debater was Caleb. He was famous for his aggressive style and sharp tongue. We lost, predictably. During the awards ceremony, a judge joked, “Mr. Thorne didn’t seem to be fighting at full strength today?” Caleb glanced at me with a half-smile. “Mhm… it was enough. Otherwise, I’d have to comfort her myself later.” Before I could react, the camera clicked. In the photo, Caleb and I stood side by side. He tilted his head slightly, looking at me, the corners of his mouth turned up. A second after that photo was taken, Caleb leaned down and whispered in my ear: “Girlfriend, you look beautiful today.” I blinked, dragged out of the old dream by my alarm. The same unknown number had sent several more messages. Unknown (23:25): 【Home yet? Reply.】 Unknown (23:31): 【Did Evan take you home?】 Unknown (23:49): 【Lana, if you don’t reply by midnight, the contract offer expires.】 Unknown (3:02): 【It’s Caleb.】 I almost laughed. I texted Sarah first to say I’d be at the set today. Then I replied to Caleb: 【Got it. I’ll join the crew.】 Caleb: 【1】 Caleb: 【Accept my friend request on WeChat. I’ll send the digital contract.】 I opened my friend requests. The familiar avatar lay there quietly. Blocked for four years. Same avatar, same nickname. It was like he had been waiting there stubbornly. I watched the “Typing…” status at the top of the chat flicker and disappear. After an unknown amount of time, he sent a message. Caleb: 【Lana, it’s Caleb.】 It felt like time reversed. When I first met Caleb, I hesitated for a long time before stopping him. I wiped the sweat from my palms. “Caleb, I’m Lana.”

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I am the brainless, busty “villainess” in a high school romance novel. My only hobbies? Trying to seduce the male lead and framing the female lead. Unfortunately, I failed at both. In the end, my true colors were exposed, and I was expelled. To prevent this tragic ending, I decided to find a new target and avoid the male lead like the plague. But the male lead, who was supposed to be a perfect gentleman in the original story, pinned me against the wall like a madman. My uniform skirt wrinkled under his grip as his hand tightened around my waist. His voice was low and bewitching, laced with an imperceptible madness: “Sophie, didn’t you say you liked me the most?” 1 The third time I used “delivering milk” as an excuse to seduce Caleb Vance, I awakened my memories. I realized I was the villainess in a novel. In the original story, I was the daughter of the housekeeper working for the Vance family. Since childhood, my mother instilled in me the twisted idea of climbing the social ladder. Living under the same roof, Caleb was the best target I could find. Unfortunately, he had no interest in a beautiful idiot like me. Instead, he favored the resilient, “white lotus” female lead, Lily Hart. Jealous, I made things difficult for Lily at every turn. But my schemes were clumsy and always exposed. In the end, I was expelled and kicked out of the Vance estate with my mother, never to be heard from again. Expelled? That means no high school diploma! In this economy, without a diploma, I wouldn’t even be able to get a job shaking bubble tea. So, “never to be heard from again” probably meant starving to death in a rental apartment. The thought made me shiver. I dared not covet Caleb anymore. But just then, the door in front of me opened. Caleb looked down, seemingly tired of my clumsy tricks. “What is it?” Startled, my hand shook. The glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor with a crisp sound. I didn’t care about the milk splashing onto my nightgown. I immediately squatted down. Just as my fingers were about to touch the shards, Caleb grabbed my wrist. “Do you want to lose your hand?” His voice was cold. I tried to pull my hand back timidly. But Caleb didn’t let go. Confused, I looked up at him. I found his gaze landing squarely on my chest. Wait! Tonight, to seduce Caleb, I had chosen a sheer nightgown. Now, soaked in milk, the already translucent fabric became even more revealing. What Caleb was seeing… was self-evident. I yanked my hand back from his grip. Covering my chest in panic, I stammered, “I, I… I’ll clean it up later!” I ran back to my room and changed. Long sleeves, long pants, plaid pajamas. Covered up tight. Then, ignoring my mother’s disappointed look, I obediently cleaned up the glass shards and milk stains. After finishing, I looked up at his closed door. I swore in my heart: Stay away from Caleb Vance. Stay safe. 2 I had nightmares and didn’t sleep well. The next morning, unsurprisingly, I woke up late. Yawning, I stuffed a piece of blueberry toast in my mouth, put on my shoes, and ran out. Unexpectedly, I bumped into Caleb at the gate of the estate. The standard school uniform looked different on him. The crisp collar and the metal emblem on his blazer reflected the blinding sunlight, making him look noble and upright. Seeing me, Caleb didn’t say much. “Get in.” I took half a step back. Wait, this wasn’t what I planned. I grew up in the Vance household with my mom. While I wasn’t family, Mrs. Vance took care of me because I was young and sweet-talking. Thanks to her, I could attend the same elite private high school as Caleb. My mom even pushed her luck, asking for me to share a car with him to and from school, creating opportunities for me to seduce him. Unfortunately, Caleb was an unmelting block of ice. No matter what I did, he was unmoved. I wanted to use being late as an excuse to start going to school separately. I didn’t expect him to wait for me. I hesitated, wanting to refuse, but swallowed my words under Caleb’s gaze. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late.” “…Okay.” I dared not disobey and got into the car. Throughout the ride, I pressed myself against the window, trying my best not to touch Caleb. Almost there! Almost at school! I clenched my fists, cheering myself on. Suddenly, the car lurched. Caught off guard, I lost my balance and fell toward Caleb. My forehead slammed into his shoulder. Pain blinded me, and I almost cried. Covering my forehead with one hand, I searched for a support point with the other to push myself back. But my hand slipped, and I fell onto Caleb again. This time, I saw clearly. My palm wasn’t pressing on the leather seat, but on Caleb’s thigh. 3 This was fatal. If the driver hadn’t stopped the car right then, my escape would have counted as jumping from a moving vehicle. I didn’t dare look at Caleb’s expression and bolted toward the classroom. Maybe shame buffed my speed. I wasn’t late. Caleb, on the other hand, walked in unhurriedly just as the bell rang. I rejoiced. Thankfully, Caleb had refused my request to be desk mates, citing he wasn’t used to having people next to him. Otherwise, I would be sitting on pins and needles, preferring to drop out. That morning, contrary to my usual behavior, I didn’t pester Caleb. Not even eye contact. The second to last period was PE. The noon sun was blinding. I leaned against the only tree on the field providing shade, slacking off. No special reason. My mom was afraid I’d get tanned. She once said: “Men are visual creatures. If you’re fair and your skin is tender, they’ll worship you without you even smiling. If you’re dark and ugly, they won’t appreciate you even if you die for them.” Is that true? I don’t know. But I was happy not to sweat on the field. PE ended quickly. I followed the crowd back to the classroom. Looking down, I saw my jewelry box open under the desk. It was empty. I froze. This scene felt familiar. Before I could think, a hand picked up the box. It was my desk mate, Bella. “Sophie, did you lose something?” Her voice was loud, attracting attention. I remembered. This was my first confrontation with the female lead in the novel! I had stuffed my necklace into Lily’s bag during PE to frame her. But I failed, and my necklace was exposed as a fake. In reality, I bought it with real money! I wanted to cry. But right now, my necklace was still around my neck. What was missing was the bracelet Caleb gave me. He tossed it to me on my seventeenth birthday, saying it wasn’t worth much. I wore it happily. But yesterday, I decided to distance myself from him. If Lily misunderstood my feelings because of a bracelet, I’d never clear my name. Better to put it away. I waved my hand to stop Bella. “It’s nothing, just a bracelet… not worth much.” Unexpectedly, Bella got excited. “You mean the bracelet you always wear? That’s Sugilite! Ice-grade cherry blossom pink! It’s worth at least twenty grand!” Twenty grand?! I jumped up in shock. That’s my mom’s annual salary! Is this what rich people mean by “not worth much”? I blinked in confusion. Bella said indignantly, “Who is shameless enough to steal Sophie’s stuff? Return it now, or I’ll search your bags!” Whispers started. Someone mentioned Lily. “Besides Lily, who else is poor enough to steal? No wonder her parents sold everything to send her here. Stealing a bracelet would cover the tuition.” Mocking laughter erupted. Lily’s eyes turned red, holding back tears. Bella rushed to search Lily’s bag. Seeing things spiral out of control, I hugged Bella’s waist to stop her. “Wait! We can’t accuse her without evidence! Being poor doesn’t mean having bad character!” In the book, Lily was the epitome of integrity and resilience. But maybe too resilient. Lily slammed her bag on the desk and dumped it out. Contents scattered. Clatter. Caleb’s bracelet lay there conspicuously. Silence fell. Lily’s face changed. She seemed confused about why it was there. Then, she looked at me coldly. “Did you frame me?” Me? Me? The study representative added, “I saw Sophie return to the classroom during PE.” Everyone’s suspicious gaze fell on me again. I opened my mouth to explain but couldn’t say a word. A sense of powerlessness washed over me. What does this mean? I have to take the blame? My reaction looked like guilt. Plus, I had been hostile to Lily because she was close to Caleb. Framing her seemed logical. “Check the surveillance, then call the police.” Caleb, sitting by the window and silent until now, looked up. His gaze swept over me briefly. I felt uncomfortable. Someone asked, “Wasn’t the camera broken?” “I had it fixed,” Caleb said, looking indifferent, then lowered his eyes again. A voice broke the deadlock. A boy picked up the bracelet and sneered, “Just a joke. Lily is always so cold and aloof, so I borrowed Sophie’s stuff to prank her. No need for police, right?” He handed the bracelet back to me. I held the pink bracelet. And did something unexpected. I slapped him across the face. “It’s not funny at all!” 4 The framing incident passed without disaster. I was relieved. In the car home with Caleb, I fidgeted with my skirt and tentatively spoke: “Caleb.” He turned, his dark pupils like bottomless whirlpools. I handed over the bracelet. “Here, take this back.” He didn’t take it. I swallowed and explained, “I didn’t know your gift was so expensive. I feel uneasy wearing it. Please take it back.” After a moment, Caleb reached out. He picked up the bracelet. His hand was slender and well-proportioned. The cherry blossom pink bracelet hung on his knuckles. I noticed him looking at a bead cracked by Lily. “Sorry, I didn’t take good care of your gift.” Caleb didn’t respond. He deftly disassembled the bracelet, removed the cracked bead, and replaced it with a wooden bead from his own bracelet. The crystal pink bead and the wooden one looked mismatched. I didn’t understand his intention. Caught off guard, he grabbed my wrist. His temperature was cool, making me shiver. He methodically put the bracelet back on my wrist. His movements were serious, like putting a collar on a pet. “Wear it.” Caleb repeated what he said on my birthday. “It suits you.”

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The blizzard had sealed us in and cut the power for four days, and the indoor temperature had dropped below zero. My five-year-old daughter, Maisie, was shivering in my arms, wearing only a thin sweater. My husband, Gary Miller, was outside. He had taken the last of our emergency heating briquettes and arranged them in a giant heart shape in the snow. He did it because the woman living next door had texted him, saying she wished she could see some fireworks. He lit the briquettes. The firelight reflected, warm and satisfied, on his face. He waved enthusiastically toward the woman’s second-story window. I pulled my gaze back and touched Maisie’s forehead. It was already burning up. Gary burst through the door, tracking snow. He was beaming as he told me, “She smiled, Audra. Sherry actually smiled.” He added, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “We have parkas and blankets. We’ll tough it out.” I held my now semiconscious daughter closer and pushed away the hand he reached out to me. “Get out of my way.” He was right. From this moment on, I wasn’t going to “tough it out” anymore. I was going to take my daughter to a spring he would never be a part of. … Gary Miller pushed open the door, letting in a gust of frigid air and the faint, cloying scent of gardenia, his signature cologne. I tightened my hold on five-year-old Maisie. She was tucked deep into a sleeping bag, and her breath misted in the cold air. The power had been out for two days. Our only remaining heat source was the few boxes of coal briquettes stored in the utility closet. Gary walked straight to the closet, hauled out two full boxes, and started for the door. I slid off the bed and blocked his path, my eyes locked on the boxes. “What are you doing? That is the last of the fuel.” He looked at me with an expression of weary martyrdom. “Sherry Kinsley lives next door. She’s alone, the power’s out, and she’s already complaining about the cold. She’s delicate. What if she freezes? Neighbors help neighbors, Audra.” I grabbed the edge of a cardboard box. “Maisie has a fever. The temperature in this house is dropping fast.” I kept my voice low, but it vibrated with cold fury. “If you give her the coal, how are we supposed to survive? Are you trying to let your own wife and daughter freeze to death?” Gary easily yanked the boxes free. My hand scraped against the rough cardboard. I stumbled backward, hitting the coat rack. He smoothed the collar of his thermal shirt, giving me a quick, disdainful glance. “Audra Price, when did you become so selfish? We have down coats and blankets. We can tough this out. Sherry doesn’t even have proper winter gear.” He paused, his lip curling. “You can’t just think about yourself. Be generous. Don’t make me think you’re nothing but a bitter nag.” The front door slammed shut, letting a blast of wind and snow into the hall. I scrambled up and pressed my face to the windowpane, looking through the ice-frosted glass. In the backyard, Gary dumped the boxes of fuel onto the snow, meticulously arranging the black briquettes into a massive heart shape. He pulled out a lighter and ignited them. Flames shot up, bathing his face in an unnatural, satisfied red glow. He tilted his head back, waving up toward the second-floor window next door, where a single candlelight flickered. The curtain moved. A silhouette appeared—a slender figure in what looked like a thin slip dress, holding a wineglass. Gary pulled out his phone and sent a voice message. I could hear the tinny sound through the wall. “Sherry, honey, this fire might not be as pretty as fireworks, but it’ll warm your little heart. See how the flame looks exactly like my heart for you?” I turned away. Maisie whimpered in the sleeping bag. Her forehead was like a furnace. I picked up the old tablet, hoping to put on a show to distract her, but a message popped up: “Subscription Expired.” Gary came in humming, brushing snow off his coat. He was sending another voice message as he kicked off his boots. “Alright, alright, stop pouting. I already renewed your Platinum VIP account. Watch whatever you want. Don’t worry about data, I put you on an unlimited plan.” I shoved the tablet at him. “Maisie wants to watch Paw Patrol. Can you renew the account for the house?” Gary pushed my hand away. “Renew it? Are you kidding? We have no cash to spare right now. Besides, too much screen time is bad for a kid’s eyes. It’s good the power’s out; maybe she’ll break the habit.” I stared into his eyes. “You just spent hundreds of dollars on a Platinum VIP account for Sherry Kinsley.” Gary’s face hardened. He quickly locked his phone and jammed it into his coat pocket. “Were you spying on my phone? Audra, where is the basic trust between a husband and wife? Don’t I deserve privacy?” I pointed to the bedroom. “Maisie’s fever is spiking at 102 degrees. Go get the Motrin. It’s on the top shelf of the utility closet.” Gary shook his head, already turning for the door. “It’s just a fever. Bundle her up; she’ll sweat it out. Stop being so dramatic. Sherry’s water pipes might have burst. I need to go help her fix them.” He snatched his toolbox. “She’s a single woman living alone. If I don’t help her, who will? Can’t you be reasonable for once?” He charged out into the storm. I held the limp Maisie in my arms, listening to the faint sound of laughter drifting over from the next house. Around 3 AM, I checked my phone and saw a new post on Sherry’s social media feed. The photo showed two shadows cozied up in front of a blazing hearth. The caption read: “Snowy night, warm company. So glad to have you.” The fuel in that hearth was the last of the coal from my house. I put the phone down and began systematically searching the house, packing every usable supply into my old hiking backpacks. The next morning, Gary returned, a tell-tale hickey visible on his neck. He collapsed onto the sofa. “Honey, do we have any food? I’m starving.” He groaned, rubbing his back. “I was up all night fixing pipes. My back is killing me. Make me a big bowl of hot soup noodles. Put two eggs in it.” I was in the kitchen, carefully feeding warm water to Maisie. I glanced at him. The pot on the stove held a small amount of thin rice porridge—all that was left, and it was reserved for Maisie. I picked up the pot. In front of him, I slowly, deliberately poured the entire contents into the trash can. Gary shot upright. “Are you insane?! That’s food! Do you have any idea what the situation is outside? And you just dump it? Are you sick in the head?” I tossed the empty pot into the sink. “I’d feed it to the dog before I gave it to you.” Gary pointed a shaky finger at me. “Audra Price, what the hell is your problem? I just went to help a neighbor fix a leaky pipe! Why are you being so passive-aggressive? Your heart is the size of a pinprick! Why can’t you be understanding, like Sherry?” I turned toward a cabinet, searching for a piece of hidden chocolate Maisie had stashed months ago. Gary spotted it, snatched the candy bar from my hand, and shoved it into his pocket. “This is mine. Sherry has low blood sugar; she woke up dizzy this morning. She needs this for an emergency boost.” I reached out to grab it back. “That’s for Maisie! She hasn’t eaten anything solid in a day!” Gary shoved me hard. I stumbled and hit the wall. He protected his pocket. “Kids shouldn’t eat too much candy, it ruins their teeth! Sherry needs this for survival!” He paused, straightening his coat. “Besides, I’m just cultivating a good relationship with her. She can help us out later if we need it.” He hurried toward the neighbor’s house. Through the window, I saw Sherry standing at the second-floor sill, wearing my expensive, delicate lace thermal undershirt. The neckline was pulled low. She bent over to smile at him, the garment hanging loosely on her. Gary reached out, pinching her waist through the windowpane, and they shared a long, private smile. Thirty minutes later, Gary was back. I pointed to his phone, which he’d left charging on the nightstand. “Sherry is wearing my clothes.” Gary’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Her clothes got wet, she didn’t have a spare. I just lent her a set for an emergency. You have so many clothes, it’s not like you’ll miss one thermal set.” He scoffed. “Look at you. Why is your mind always in the gutter? She borrowed a shirt, and you’re already spinning a sordid story. You are utterly irrational.” I didn’t argue further. I walked into the bedroom. Seeing my silence, Gary just huffed. “That’s right. It’s normal for a man to have a little fun. As long as you behave and stop being so suspicious, this house is still yours.” He went into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. I picked up his phone, which was plugged in on the nightstand. I typed in Sherry’s birthday as the password. I opened his banking app and transferred every liquid cent from his primary account. Then, I opened his insurance folder and purchased a massive accidental death and dismemberment policy, listing Maisie as the sole beneficiary. I deleted the confirmation texts and placed the phone back on the nightstand. From under the bed, I dragged out a signal booster. The screen flickered a few times and finally connected to a faint satellite signal. I sent my coordinates and a short message to a former contact: “Coordinates confirmed. Awaiting extraction.” The reply came back instantly: “Received. Blizzard too heavy for rotary. ETA: Three days.” Gary emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair. He saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. “Honey, make a pot roast tonight, okay? Sherry said she’s craving home cooking. I’ll take a plate over to her.” I avoided his hand and gave him a faint, chillingly calm smile. “Of course. I’ll start preparing right now.” Gary paused, then grinned, relieved. “That’s my girl. A woman who knows how to be supportive. Don’t worry, I’ll be nicer to you now. As long as you don’t make a fuss.” I touched the small folding knife concealed in my pocket. Deep in the night, Maisie began to convulse beneath the blanket. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes rolled back, and a horrible rattling sound came from her throat. I frantically searched the medical kit, finding only half a bottle of liquid Motrin. As I struggled to twist the cap off, Gary’s phone chirped. It was a voice message from Sherry, her voice laced with a dramatic sniffle. “Gary, my head hurts so much. I think I’m coming down with something.” Gary, who had been playing a video game, instantly bolted up. He lunged across the bed and snatched at the medicine bottle in my hand. “Give it to me! Sherry isn’t feeling well!” I held the bottle in a death grip. “Maisie is having a seizure! This is life-saving medicine!” My voice was a desperate hiss. “Sherry only has a headache! Maisie could die! Are you even human? She’s your daughter!” He brutally wrenched my fingers apart. “Kids get fevers all the time! She’ll shake it off!” He was shouting now. “Sherry is delicate! What if she gets a high fever and damages her brain? Can you pay for that? Give me the damn medicine!” In the struggle, his elbow slammed into my cheekbone. Smash. The bottle flew from my hand, shattering against the stone floor. The pink liquid mixed with shards of glass, splattering everywhere. The silence was broken only by Maisie’s shallow, ragged gasps. Gary froze, then his face went purple with rage. He hauled back and slapped me across the face. “You crazy bitch! If neither of us can have it, then no one can!” He didn’t even glance down at his daughter. “You couldn’t even handle this one simple task! You ruined Sherry’s medicine! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He shoved the door open. “God, you’re toxic! I’m going to check on Sherry. You stay here and reflect on what you’ve done!” The door slammed. I threw myself over Maisie. I rushed to the yard, scooped a basin full of snow, mixed it with what little cold water was left in the pitcher, and created a slush bath. I soaked a towel and began relentlessly wiping Maisie’s forehead, armpits, and the palms of her hands. The water was icy, and my hands quickly swelled and reddened, but I didn’t dare stop. By three in the morning, Maisie’s temperature finally dropped, and the convulsions ceased. A video call came in. It was Gary’s mother, Maureen. On the screen, Gary sat beside her, peeling an apple. Maureen glared at me from the screen. “I heard you wouldn’t give that nice Sherry woman the medicine she needed?” Her voice was harsh and self-righteous. “Audra, you need to have foresight. Miss Kinsley’s family owns factories! They have money!” She leaned closer to the phone. “Gary is at a critical point in his career! He needs people like her to back him up. What do you do besides raise a child? You’re useless! Don’t get in Gary’s way!” She gave me a severe look. “If you take care of Miss Kinsley, you’ll be rewarded. If you cross her, you’ll be out of the Miller family!” Gary took a bite of the apple. “Mom’s right. Sherry can elevate my career. Just be a good wife, and your place as the main one is secure.” He smiled mockingly. “I won’t be home tonight. Sherry was upset and needs company.” I stared at the mother and son on the screen. I ended the video call and circled the next day’s date on the kitchen calendar. That was the final confirmed date for my extraction. I looked at Maisie sleeping peacefully in my arms and kissed her forehead. “Just a little longer, baby.” The fifth day. The blizzard had passed, but the temperature had plunged even lower. Early in the morning, the front door was kicked open. Gary supported Sherry, who walked in, looking rosy-cheeked and wearing the down parka he’d obviously taken from my closet. She pinched her nose. “Gary, what is that smell? It’s awful in here.” Gary gave a weak, appeasing laugh. “That’ll be my wife, the sour-faced hag. She hasn’t bathed in days. I’ll make her scrub up later.” He looked at me, his face turning cold. “The heating pipe next door burst completely. It’s uninhabitable. Sherry will be staying here from now on. Clear out the master bedroom. Change the sheets, she likes things spotless.” He threw me a blanket. “Take Maisie to the utility closet. It has no windows, so it will hold heat better. You can stay there.” Sherry walked over to the sofa and picked up Maisie’s favorite bunny stuffed animal. “Oh, this is disgusting. So many germs.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the bunny straight into the cold, empty fireplace. “No!” I lunged forward, but Gary grabbed my arm. Flames quickly consumed the rabbit. Maisie cried and tried to fight past Gary to save it, but he kicked her legs out of the way. “Stop crying! It’s better this way! Out with the old, in with the new!” He looked at Sherry. “Sherry is doing this for your health, you ungrateful child. You might have gotten a bacterial infection.” I stared at the ashes in the hearth. I looked up at Gary. “You’re absolutely right. Out with the old, in with the new.” Gary frowned at my tone. “Why are you smiling? Go make dinner! Sherry is hungry. Get out the best food we have. I’m going to have a couple of drinks tonight.” I nodded. “Fine. I’ll get ready. I’ll make you both a feast tonight.” I went to the kitchen and gathered the last of the preserved meats, canned goods, and dry provisions. Into the bottle of expensive red wine, I crushed ten sleeping pills. Ground to a fine powder, and shaken well. At dinner, Gary’s cheeks were flushed. Under the table, one hand rested intimately on Sherry’s thigh. “See, Audra? This is perfect. You can handle the cooking and cleaning, and Sherry can handle my social engagements and business networking.” He grinned. “The three of us, happy and successful. How perfect is that?” Sherry leaned into his embrace and smiled a saccharine smile at me. “Thanks for doing all the hard work, older sister. I’ll make sure Gary takes good care of you.” I refilled their glasses. “Drink up. It’s cold outside. You need to keep warm.” I watched them drink glass after glass until they finally slumped, unconscious, over the table. The smile instantly dropped from my face. I dragged their limp bodies into the master bedroom and dumped them on the bed. I stripped them both naked and arranged their limbs into a compromising embrace. I took out my phone, snapped a dozen photos, and recorded a short video. Then, I began to move. I emptied the house of every staple: the last of the rice, the flour, the oil, the clothes, the blankets, the remaining medicine, the hand warmers. I went to the emergency generator shed. I unscrewed the spark plug and dropped it into the sewer drain. Without that single part, the generator would be inert. Finally, I strapped the unconscious Maisie to my chest, threw the two heavy hiking packs over my shoulders, and opened the front door. In the blizzard night, a heavily modified off-road vehicle waited at the curb. I settled Maisie into the back seat, then glanced back at the house. The light was still on in the master bedroom, where two bodies were asleep. I shut the car door. “Let’s go.” The tires ground against the packed snow and sped away. The next afternoon. Gary woke up, shivering violently. He groaned, reaching for the blanket, but his hand hit a cold, naked body. He opened his eyes, saw a nude Sherry beside him, and a flood of last night’s memories rushed in. He grinned weakly and called out, “Honey, turn the heat up. Why is it so damn cold?” No response. Silence. He crawled out of bed, finding only his own shirt covering his body. The bedding was gone. He stumbled out of the bedroom, yelling “Audra Price!” The sound echoed in the empty house. On the living room table was a single sheet of A4 paper, weighed down by the signed divorce papers. Pasted onto the paper was the picture of him and Sherry, naked and intertwined. Below the photo, written in stark red ink, were four words:

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The ninth time my husband’s mistress had the audacity to change the locks on our front door, a flicker of genuine annoyance finally crossed his face. I, on the other hand, was the one to calmly soothe him. “She’s just a kid, Alastair. She doesn’t know any better. Don’t get worked up.” Alastair’s hand, poised to smash the lock, froze mid-air. He turned and stared at me, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re not angry?” I was almost at a loss for words. After five years of marriage, this kind of chaos was routine. If I got angry every time, I’d have died of a stroke long ago. Besides, my own young boyfriend could be a real handful himself. All I felt for my husband was a strange sort of commiseration. “No, not angry.” … I thought he’d be relieved, but his expression turned uglier. He grabbed my arm, his grip almost brutal, and pulled me inside. He stared at me for a long moment before lighting a cigarette. “I already told you, it’s over between us. You don’t have to act like this.” I watched the glowing tip of his cigarette pulse in the dim light and gave a weary nod, turning to change into my slippers. I’d heard those words a hundred times. Fought about it a hundred times. The worst was on our wedding anniversary. We were celebrating with family and friends when his little lover, sporting a prosthetic baby bump, burst in and turned our home into a war zone. In that moment, the mask I wore shattered completely. I lunged at her like a madwoman, ready to tear her apart. But Alastair pulled me back too hard, and I fell. A warm gush of blood pooled beneath me. In the end, her pregnancy was a lie, but my child was gone. My life had become a sick joke. “What are you smiling about?” Alastair straightened up, his hand clamping around my wrist. “You don’t believe me?” His mood was volatile, and to avoid an endless argument, I gave him a placating lie. “I believe you. Of course, I believe you.” I’d spent the whole day managing a temperamental young man; I had no energy left to deal with him. I just wanted peace. But my compliance only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest. He let out a cold laugh and suddenly seized my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re trying to piss me off. I hate that dead look on your face, so don’t even think you can manipulate me.” I wrenched my face from his grasp, about to spit back a sarcastic retort, when my phone vibrated. I glanced down. It was another photo from his mistress, Sierra. This time, a barely-there thong bikini. Doesn’t this look better on me than it does on you, Rowan? Alastair says he loves how young I am… he can never control himself when I dress like this… I wasn’t angry. I almost wanted to laugh. Her little tricks were child’s play compared to his first conquest. That one had made her debut at our wedding. A year of planning, our friends and family waiting, and Alastair was nowhere to be found. After a frantic search, I finally found him in a dressing room. Beneath him, a naked woman. Seeing my ashen face, Alastair calmly pushed her away. He straightened his own clothes before reaching out to wipe the tears streaming down my face. “She seduced me,” he’d said. “I promise, it won’t happen again.” For the rest of the day, he held me, a hollow doll, and we went through the motions. I thought it was a one-time mistake. I never imagined it was the beginning of my own personal hell. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Alastair frowned and peered at my phone screen. A second later, he snatched it from my hand and deleted the message. “That girl is asking for it! I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget!” With that, he gave my cheek an apologetic caress and stormed out. It was one of his mistress’s classic moves. With Alastair gone, I knew he wouldn’t be back tonight. So I washed up and went to bed alone. But in the middle of the night, a pair of hot hands began to roam my body. Alastair’s lips were on me, his kisses urgent, but his voice was laced with complaint. “Why didn’t you wait for me? You used to always wait up, no matter how late I was.” I stiffened. The drowsiness I felt curdled into a wave of nausea. He reminded me of how pathetic I used to be. Soon after we were married, he started coming home late. I’d wait from ten to one, from midnight to dawn. He hated it when I called to check on him, so I’d just pace the house like a caged animal. On the lucky nights, he’d come home, bringing the scent and marks of other women with him. On the unlucky ones, I’d watch the sun rise alone. I had cried. I had thrown fits. He’d just watch me with cold eyes until I was exhausted, then drop a single, icy line. “Stop acting like a lunatic.” Annoyed by my distraction, Alastair pinched my cheek, his tone self-congratulatory. “I taught her a lesson. Canceled her credit cards. She’ll be here to apologize to you tomorrow.” I frowned, pushing away his wandering hands. I got out of bed and started for the guest room. “I’m on my period. It’s not a good time.” Alastair’s face tightened, a fire igniting in his chest. He stared at me, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were on your period last week, and you’re on it again this week? Rowan, are you taking me for a fool?” I ignored him and tried to close the door, but he lunged forward, blocking it. “I know I was a bastard before, but I’ve changed, Rowan. Can’t you see that?” His voice was pleading. He took my hand and pressed it against his chest, over the tattoo there. Rowan. My name. For a moment, I was lost in a memory. We were eighteen, and we got them together. His family wanted him to go to a military academy, but all he wanted was to study abroad with me. In an act of rebellion, he went and got my name inked over his heart. When I found him, I burst into tears. He hadn’t used any anesthetic. His face was pale with pain, but his eyes were blazing. He touched my face, his voice full of a beautiful, wild arrogance. “No one is ever going to take you away from me.” Back then, I was naive enough to believe that was forever. So when another woman sent me a photo of her lips pressed against that same tattoo, I completely dissociated. I couldn’t feel sadness, couldn’t feel pain. The only thing that brought a sliver of relief, a gasp of air in the suffocating darkness, was the sight of my own blood. My fingers curled into a fist. I forced a gentle, understanding smile onto my face. “You’re overthinking it. I really don’t feel well. Let’s just forget the past. We don’t need to talk about it anymore.” Alastair faltered, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Really…?” The silence stretched for a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice laced with disappointment. “Alright, then. Get some rest. If you’re not feeling better, you should see a doctor.” I nodded, ignoring the desperate longing in his eyes as I shut the door in his face. The moment it clicked shut, my phone lit up. A picture from Nico, showing off the championship trophy from his baseball game. He was like a proud puppy waiting for praise. Funnily enough, I had Alastair to thank for meeting him. Three years ago, Alastair was having a passionate affair with a college student. I tracked them down at her campus, ready for a confrontation. Instead, he shielded her, slapped me so hard I fell to the ground, and then walked away with his arm around her. A crowd of students gathered around me, their eyes filled with pity. That was the day something in me finally broke. I walked to the tallest building on campus and climbed to the roof. Just as I was about to jump, someone tackled me, slamming me back onto the concrete. Nico’s arms were like steel bands around my waist, his warm breath ghosting across my face. He seemed to be searching for the right words of comfort. After a long moment, he came up with a line, delivered with a reckless grin. “He can cheat, so why can’t you?” He was right. Why the hell couldn’t I? A young, athletic body, the clean, fresh scent of youth… wasn’t that a hundred times better than an old, stale man? From that day on, we began our secret affair. Amazing. Keep it up. After praising my puppy, I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of laughter and playful whispers. I walked out of the guest room, a headache already forming, and saw Sierra pressed up against Alastair at the door of the master bedroom. “Don’t worry, Alastair,” she cooed. “I’ll be on my best behavior and apologize to Rowan.” While Sierra was a picture of nonchalance, Alastair seemed distracted, his brow furrowed. “Just stop causing trouble. And don’t do anything to make her angry.” “I know, I know. Now, can you kiss me?” Sierra stood on her toes, and Alastair didn’t pull away. The moment our eyes met, I thoughtfully closed their bedroom door for them. “Rowan!” I heard frantic footsteps behind me, and then Alastair’s hand was on my arm, gripping it tightly. A vein throbbed in his forehead; he was barely containing his rage. “What the hell was that?” His question baffled me. “What was what?” His grip tightened, and I winced, my face paling. “Are you crazy? Let go!” He didn’t loosen his hold, his face dark. “Are you blind? Didn’t you see her kissing me?” The words that had been simmering inside him for days finally boiled over. “Rowan, stop playing the part of the dutiful wife! I’d rather you scream and shout and tell me everything you’re feeling than look at me with that dead face!” Sierra’s eyes welled with tears. She approached me, her voice small and timid. “Rowan, it’s all my fault. I’m the one who won’t leave him alone. It has nothing to do with Alastair. Please don’t be angry with him.” She sounded so sincere, so heartbroken, as if she wasn’t the one who sent me photos from their bed, as if I was the one making a scene for no reason. I slowly turned to Alastair, my eyes filled with an exhaustion that went bone-deep. “What do you want from me?” You want me to fight with you, like before? To watch your every move, like before? To lose myself completely, turning into a ghost of a person, like before? Alastair was so damn selfish. Looking at his thunderous expression, I suddenly didn’t want to pretend anymore. “Let’s get a divorce.” The room fell into a dead, shocking silence. The sound of Alastair grinding his teeth was audible. A horrifying laugh escaped his throat. “A divorce?” He shook his head slowly. “In your dreams.” He studied me, a calculating look on his face, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Rowan, I was wondering what your next move would be. So this is it? Trying to threaten me with a divorce? You picked the wrong guy.” With that, he shoved me away, wrapped his arm around Sierra, and slammed the door behind them. I rubbed my reddened wrist and, as if nothing had happened, got ready for work. After that day, Alastair resumed his old habit of staying out all night. It was as if he was deliberately trying to provoke me, with new rumors of his affairs popping up constantly. The mocking whispers from those around me started up again. “Mrs. Vance? Please. She’s just clinging on. It won’t be long before she’s kicked to the curb, hahaha…” “She was always a social climber. Now that she’s older and lost her looks, she can’t keep her man on a leash. It’s pathetic, really.” … I pretended not to hear any of it. At the office, I focused on my work. After work, I’d go to the secret apartment I shared with Nico. I thought we could continue in this quiet stalemate. But then Sierra had to go and drag my mother, whose health was already fragile, into her games. She sent my mother the intimate photos of her and Alastair. The shock sent her into a coma. Shaking with rage, I stormed over to Sierra’s apartment. She answered the door in a bathrobe, fresh from the shower. Seeing me, she flashed a triumphant smile. “Ms. Vance, what brings you here?” She covered her mouth in a parody of surprise, her eyes glinting with malice. “Oh, don’t tell me your mother passed away and you need Alastair to come home for the fun—AH!” My fury exploded. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and slapped her across the face with all my strength. “You bitch!” Sierra’s shriek quickly brought Alastair running. He yanked me off her, throwing me to the floor. “Rowan, have you lost your mind?” A dull ache spread through my limbs, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I fought back a surge of tears and pointed a trembling finger at Sierra, who was now playing the victim. “She sent our bed photos to my mother! My mom is in the ICU right now, in a coma!” Alastair froze, his gaze snapping to Sierra. Sierra was sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. “My phone was hacked! I don’t know who sent them! Rowan, if you’re still angry, just hit me! Blame it all on me, I’ll take it!” She started slapping her own face, sharp, stinging sounds filling the air. Her cheeks were red in seconds. “That’s enough!” Alastair roared. He grabbed her hands, then turned to me. “What’s the point of bullying her? She’s with me all the time. When would she have had the time to bother your mother?” I struggled to control my shaking body and lunged for her. “If you have nothing to hide, then come with me to the police station.” “Ah!” Sierra cried out in pain as I grabbed her. CRACK. Alastair’s hand connected with my cheek. Time seemed to stop. My head buzzed. I slowly turned back to him, cupping my swollen face. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes. The hand that had struck me curled into a fist. But all he did was scoff, his voice laced with scorn. “If you weren’t so damn aggressive, I wouldn’t have had to hit you! You’re just jealous, so you’re looking for any excuse to blame Sierra.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat. “Are you going to let me take her or not?” His voice was ice. “Never.” My fingernails dug into my palms. I smiled, though tears threatened to spill. All these years, whenever it came to his mistresses, I was always the one to be sacrificed. My child, my reputation, my dignity. All of it, gone. How many times had I gotten into fights with his lovers, only for him to pull me away, holding me back while their fists and nails rained down on my face? He would turn a blind eye to it all, only showing a flicker of concern when I spat blood. Then he would offer a few half-hearted rebukes. But now, I was done. I was so utterly sick of this disgusting relationship. Alastair was still lecturing me, his tone self-righteous. “Rowan, if you apologize nicely and stop giving me this attitude, maybe I’ll find it in my heart to take pity on you—” “Let’s get a divorce.” I cut him off coldly, throwing the divorce papers I’d had prepared onto his face. The smile on his face vanished. He stared at the documents scattered on the floor, then advanced, trapping me against the wall. “I told you, this little game of yours won’t work on me.” He looked so sure of himself, so certain that I was still the same Rowan who couldn’t live without him.

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The day of the fire, they carried Lila, who only had a few superficial scrapes, down the stairs. They left me for dead, pinned beneath a burning rafter in the collapsing ruin. It was a miracle the firemen dug me out. I woke up three days later in the ICU. The day I was discharged, I had nowhere to go but back home. The moment I stepped through the front door, I saw my parents, Robert and Penelope Winters, and my sister, Delilah, gathered around a lavish, buttercream cake—a “Survival Celebration.” My mother, Penny, saw me, immediately shifted her body to shield the cake, and said, “Your sister is still shaken up. Don’t you dare cause a scene or ask for a piece.” Normally, I would have combusted. I would have screamed, thrown something, demanded to know why they hadn’t even checked the hospital’s discharge time. But this time, I just pulled the ghost of a smile across my face. I walked over and spoke in a tone of meek obedience they had never heard from me. “Mom, you worry too much,” I said. “I would never fight Lila for a piece. I’m just happy she’s safe.” I even picked up the silver cake knife myself, cut the largest slice, and offered it to Delilah with both hands. “Here, Sis. Eat this. You need to calm your nerves.” They all froze. My father, Rob, slowly lifted his head, his face a mask of suspicion. “You… you’re really not going to make a scene?” I nodded gently. “No. I won’t make a scene. From now on, I’ll do whatever you ask.” 1 Mom took the knife, her hand trembling. She stared at me for a long time, her eyes wide with a strange kind of panic. “Did the fire… did it fry your brain?” I shook my head, my smile a rigid, unsettling arc. “No. The doctors said my recovery was excellent.” My sister, Delilah, took a bite of the cake, then peered at me over the frosting. “Cassidy, you’re… you’re really not angry?” “Not at all.” My smile grew even softer, and I let my gaze linger on the faint scrape across her cheek. “I was so scared when I saw the blood on your face. I’m just relieved you’re okay.” The “blood” had been a tiny scrape she got from tripping on the lawn. I, on the other hand, had nearly been reduced to ash. At my words, Lila’s eyes immediately welled up. She dropped the fork and launched herself across the counter, throwing her arms around me. “Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry! It was all my fault, I was just so scared…” Her warm, sweet-smelling body pressed against me, and I felt a chill of absolute revulsion. I lifted a hand and gave her a light, measured pat on the back. “It’s okay, Sis. Really.” My father stood nearby, his brows furrowed. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He finally settled on a strained, “Just… good to have you home. Go up and rest.” I nodded, turning toward the stairs. I had only taken two steps when he called out. “Cassidy, wait.” I turned back. He shuffled his feet, his gaze darting away, unable to meet my eyes. “Your sister is having nightmares since the trauma. Your south-facing room… it gets the most sun. Could you let her use it? We fixed up the utility closet for you. It’s small, but… you won’t die in there.” You won’t die in there. What a perfect phrase. Before, I would have thrown a fit. I would have cried and demanded to know why. Now, I simply nodded again, my voice flat, without a single ripple of emotion. “Of course. I’ll go pack up my things right now.” My father froze. My mother froze. Even Delilah’s tear-filled eyes widened in disbelief. I ignored their reactions and walked upstairs. My old room was exactly as I had left it in high school: concert posters on the walls, and a desk covered in academic awards—every single one brighter, more numerous, than Lila’s. In this house, they were worthless. I folded my clothes, piece by piece, and packed them into a single suitcase. Lila followed me, standing silently in the doorway. I turned to her. “Come in, Sis. Sit down. This is your room now.” She bit her lip. “Cassidy… do you… do you hate me?” “No.” I tucked the last shirt into the case. “You’re fragile. You deserve the best room.” Lila’s tears fell. “But…” “No buts.” I dragged the suitcase out, past her. As I brushed by, I could smell the cloying, sweet vanilla buttercream of the cake on her sweater, a scent that already felt alien to me. “I’m heading to the utility closet. Get some rest.” As I hauled the suitcase downstairs, I heard my parents’ low, worried whispers from the living room. “She’s really changed,” Mom’s voice was laced with a strange, sick awe. “Good,” Dad’s was tinged with relief. “That fire in her, that constant arguing—it was exhausting.” “But… I don’t know. There’s something wrong. I feel… cold when she looks at me.” I didn’t stop. I dragged the suitcase straight into the utility closet. It was smaller and grimmer than I’d imagined. Mold stained the corner walls, the window was the size of a paperback book, and the ancient cot creaked with every shift of weight. The air was a stale mix of dust and rot. I sat on the cot and stared at the spiderwebs stretching across the low ceiling. My phone rang. It was my grandmother, Patsy. “Cassidy, I heard you were discharged? Why aren’t you here with me?” My throat tightened, but the tears wouldn’t come—they seemed to have been incinerated on the day of the fire. “Grandma, I’m fine at home.” “Fine my ass! I heard everything!” Patsy’s voice instantly rose, furious. “You wait right there, I’m coming over now! I’m going to tear them limb from limb!” The line went dead. I lay back and quietly listened to the fine, tight aches radiating from my injuries. The doctor said I needed at least three months of physical recovery. But I knew I couldn’t wait three months. Bang! Bang! Bang! The front door suddenly rattled under a furious, drumming assault, followed by Grandma Patsy’s strong, angry voice echoing through the entire house. “Robert Winters! Open this door! What did you do to my granddaughter?!” 2 Grandma Patsy arrived with the speed of a cyclone. She marched in, carrying a thermal food container, and launched immediately into an attack. “What in God’s name kind of parents are you? Your daughter just got out of the hospital and you put her in a storage closet?! Are your hearts made of granite!” Mom gave a nervous, forced smile. “Mom, please don’t be angry. Cassidy volunteered for it.” “Volunteered my foot!” Grandma shoved past her and charged straight into the utility closet. When she saw me on the cot, her eyes immediately filled. “My sweet girl, why are you being such a fool?” I sat up. “Grandma, I’m okay.” She placed the thermal container by my head and pulled a thick wad of crumpled bills from her pocket. “This is my emergency savings. You take it. Don’t you dare stay here and let them make you suffer.” I looked at the wrinkled cash, feeling a sharp twist of pain in my chest. This was all she had in the world, and she wanted to give it to me. But I gently pushed the money back. “Grandma, I really am fine. Dad, Mom, and Lila are fine, too. You shouldn’t worry.” Patsy’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared at me as if she were seeing a stranger. “Cassidy, you…” “I really am okay.” I offered a small, unsettling smile. “You’re getting older. You need to keep that money for yourself.” Grandma Patsy’s tears flowed harder. She reached out a trembling hand to touch my cheek, and I instinctively flinched away. The small, involuntary movement utterly broke her. She whirled around and stormed back into the living room, screaming at my parents. “What have you done to my girl? She won’t even let me touch her! You’ve turned my good, fiery granddaughter into this… this ghost!” Mom whispered, “Mom, Cassidy is just growing up. She’s being mature…” “Mature?” Grandma scoffed. “This is a heart that’s dead!” She pointed a finger directly at Dad’s face. “Robert, do you remember when Cassidy was a child and you promised her the world? And now? You give the world to Delilah and treat Cassidy like… like garbage!” Dad’s face flushed a deep red. “Mom, don’t listen to gossip. I treat both my daughters equally.” “Equally?” Patsy shook with rage. “The moment the fire broke out, you grabbed Delilah and ran! You left Cassidy trapped in the flames! You call that equal?” The living room fell silent. I heard Lila’s soft, whimpering cries. “Grandma, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” “You shut your mouth!” Patsy roared at her. “How many things have you stolen from Cassidy since you were a toddler? And now you wanted her life, too?” Lila’s sobs grew louder. Mom quickly put her arm around her. “Mom, watch what you say. Lila is your granddaughter too.” “I don’t recognize that one as mine,” Grandma said, her face cold. “I only claim Cassidy.” She came back into the utility closet and grabbed my hand. “Cassidy, you’re coming with me. You are not staying here to be insulted.” I gently pulled my hand back. “Grandma, I’m not going.” “You—” “I really am fine.” I cut her off. “Please go home. I need to rest.” Grandma looked at me, the devastation in her eyes nearly overwhelming. In the end, she said nothing more, just tucked the wad of cash under my pillow, and left. The moment the door closed, I heard her crying outside. It was a choked, desolate sound. I closed my eyes and pulled the blanket over my head. Good. Now, the only person who had ever loved me had been pushed away by my own hands. No more weak spots. 3 In the days that followed, I became the most agreeable person in the Winters house. Mom asked me to do the dishes; I did them. Dad told me to mop the floor; I mopped it. Lila saw a dress of mine she liked; I took it off and gave it to her. She rooted through my jewelry box; I told her to take whatever she wanted. One afternoon, Lila took my favorite necklace. It was a delicate silver chain Grandma Patsy had given me for my eighteenth birthday. Mom saw it and quietly said, “Lila, that’s your sister’s birthday gift…” “It’s okay,” I said with a light, airy laugh. “If Sis likes it, she should wear it. I barely use it anyway.” Lila held the necklace, struggling to suppress a triumphant smile. But quickly, she dropped her eyes and put on her usual mask of practiced guilt. “Cassidy, are you… are you really sure you don’t mind?” “Not at all.” She hesitated for a beat, then fastened the necklace around her neck. That evening, I heard my parents talking in their room. “Cassidy has been completely abnormal lately,” Mom said. “Abnormal how? I think it’s great,” Dad scoffed, relieved. “The old Cassidy, fighting with Lila every day. Now we finally have peace.” “But…” Mom paused. “The way she looks at us… it’s strange. There’s no warmth, no daughterly affection. She looks at us like we’re absolute strangers.” “You’re imagining things.” The next day, Lila took my design portfolio to her school. It was the result of a month’s work—a complete collection I’d planned to submit to the prestigious Juniper Design Fellowship. She’d found it while rummaging through my things, and her eyes had lit up. “Cassidy, did you draw this? It’s incredible!” I nodded. “Can I… can I borrow it? My school has a portfolio deadline, and I’ve been completely blocked…” “Take it.” Lila paused, stunned. “Really? I can?” “Yes.” She grabbed the portfolio and ran. Mom had watched from the side, looking utterly conflicted. “Cassidy, that was your submission…” “It’s fine. I can draw another one.” Mom opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing. A week later, Delilah won first place in her school’s design competition. She came home clutching the certificate, bursting with excitement as she showed it to our parents. “Mom, Dad, look! I won!” Dad was ecstatic. “That’s my girl! So talented!” Mom also smiled, relieved. “Lila, you’re so wonderful.” Lila then looked over at me, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “Cassidy, thank you…” “Don’t mention it,” I said. “I’m happy you won, Sis.” She bit her lip, then suddenly rushed over and hugged me. “You’re so good to me, little sister.” I said nothing, just patted her back gently. But in my mind, I thought, Don’t worry, Sis. I have so much more ‘goodness’ coming your way. That night, my school principal called. Someone had reported Lila’s winning design as plagiarism. My parents’ faces immediately went white. They dragged Lila into the living room and tore into her. “How could you copy someone?!” “You’ve ruined the Winters name!” Lila was sobbing hysterically. “I didn’t copy! It was Cassidy who gave it to me…” Both my parents turned to me. I stood up. “I gave it to her.” “Why?” Dad demanded. “Because I helped her create it,” I said calmly. “That’s what I told the Principal when they called.” The Principal had indeed called me earlier. I had admitted, in front of the entire class, that the work was an assignment I had completed on behalf of my sister. I’d heard the cruel sneers behind me: “The plagiarist’s little helper is just as trashy.” Everyone looked at me with contempt. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore. My parents sighed in a collective relief. “You scared us to death. We thought it was real plagiarism.” Lila wiped her tears, looking at me. The guilt in her eyes had just deepened into something heavier, and more agonizing. 4 The turning point came without warning. My school offered me a special, early admission scholarship. It was the Presidential Scholarship to the Parsons School of Design, the best design program in the country, and there was only one awarded each year. The Principal called while I was mopping the floor in the kitchen. “Cassidy Winters, congratulations. You’ve been selected.” I stood there, gripping the mop handle, frozen for a long moment. “Thank you, Principal.” I hung up and went back to scrubbing. The stains on the tile, like the dirt on my life for the last twenty years, just wouldn’t scrub out. Lila was standing on the stairs. She’d heard everything. Her face turned pale, her nails digging into her palms. But quickly, she dropped her gaze and loosened her grip. That evening, she started to panic. She slammed doors in her room, crying and yelling that it wasn’t fair. “Why her? Why not me?!” Mom rushed in to comfort her. “Lila, honey, don’t cry…” “I don’t care! I want to go to that school! Mom, you have to help me…” Mom came out, finding me standing outside the utility closet, her expression complicated. “Cassidy, honey, you’ve always been the sensible one. Your sister has her heart set on that school. I was wondering… could you… give her your scholarship spot?” I set the book I was holding down on the cot. “Sure.” Mom’s breath hitched. “You… you agree?” “Mm-hmm.” I nodded. “If Lila wants it, she should have it. I don’t care either way.” Mom’s eyes lit up, but then a shadow of doubt crossed her face. “Cassidy, are you certain? It’s a full scholarship, to Parsons…” “I’m certain.” The next day, I went to school and signed the waiver. The Principal was stunned. “Cassidy, do you understand what you’re doing? This opportunity is one in a million…” “I understand.” I held the pen, signing my name across the official document. “But my sister needs it more than I do.” The Principal watched me, his expression heavy with disappointment. “You will regret this.” I smiled faintly. “No, I won’t.” When I got home, Dad called me over. He was sitting on the sofa, his posture rigid. “Cassidy, come here.” I walked toward him. He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly asked: “Your sister said she wants you to drop out, get a job at the warehouse, and give her the $3,000 a month you’d make to pay for her four years of college. Are you… also willing to do that?” The air froze for a few seconds. I nodded. “Yes.” My voice was as calm and still as stagnant water. “If you ask it of me, I’ll go.” My father’s face instantly drained of color. He shot up from the sofa, his hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes bloodshot with sudden, raw terror. He roared, his voice thick with a guttural rasp: “Cassidy Winters, goddammit, go back to how you were! You cry! You scream! Where is the old you?!” I looked up at him. I stared at him calmly. “Dad, did you forget?” My voice was a quiet whisper. “Three years ago, I argued with Lila over a cupcake, and you slapped me and said: ‘If you could just be sensible and easy like your sister, this house would have peace.’” My father’s hands fell away. All the color had fled his face, leaving him utterly white. I continued: “I’m sensible now. I’m doing exactly what you wished. Why… why do you look so upset?” Dad stumbled backward two steps. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. He stared at me, his breathing shallow and frantic, his eyes full of absolute dread. Mom rushed out of the kitchen. “What’s wrong? What happened?” She looked at Dad’s terrified face, then at me. “Cassidy, what did you say to your father?” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked back into the utility closet. Behind me, I heard my mother’s rising shriek of panic. “Rob! What is it? Don’t scare me like this…”

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My sister, Phoebe, was always frail, but viciously defiant. To guide her—to shock her into compliance without laying a hand on her—my mother, Elaine, turned me into her living, breathing Control Group. Phoebe snuck out, chasing trouble in cheap clubs and coming home smelling of stale smoke and bad decisions. So, my mother sent me out. Dressed in a skirt barely wider than a belt, walking home at 3 AM through the worst stretch of the city. When Phoebe saw me the next morning—my clothes ripped, a map of cheap, purple bruises marking my neck—she was so terrified, she stopped seeing those low-life punks for good. Phoebe got pregnant and still drank like it was spring break. So, in my eighth month of pregnancy—my pregnancy—Mom forced me to drink. Not just a glass, but bottle after bottle of cheap beer. Phoebe watched me hemorrhage. She watched me lose my son. My son, Micah. The sight, the absolute visceral terror of it, kept her sober for the rest of her term. She delivered a perfect, healthy baby boy. Beside the hospital bed, Mom squeezed Phoebe’s hand. “If you’d kept drinking, you would have ended up just like your sister, Jade. Lost the baby. Maybe lost your chance to have any more.” Phoebe looked at me, her eyes wet with gratitude. “Thank you, Jade. You saved me from myself.” “You’re welcome.” I wrapped my arm around Mom’s throat. A single needle, deep into her neck. “This is your final lesson, little sister. See what happens when you spend twenty-seven years turning a daughter into a monster.” 1 A bead of blood splattered across Phoebe’s cheek. Her scream ripped through the sterile air. I dragged Mom backward, away from the delivery bed, backing slowly toward the door. She slumped to the floor, her body still weak from giving birth, and there was no way she could catch me. By the time her crying brought the rest of the family and the nurses running, I was long gone. While everyone scrambled, a live stream was tearing through every social media platform. On the screen, a chilling, metallic sound filled the air: the blade of a heavy hunting knife being pulled across a whetstone. Behind me, Mom, Elaine Tanner, was zip-tied to a heavy armchair, her eyes wide with terror. [? Isn’t that Elaine Tanner, the woman who just went missing? Why is she here? And tied up by her eldest daughter!] [OMG, is this a live murder?] “Jade!” In a second window, Phoebe had started her own broadcast. “Jade, what are you doing! Stop it right now!” I admired the razor-sharp edge of the blade, then gave the camera a cold, flat look. “Sister! I’m begging you!” She dropped to her knees with a desperate, sickening thud. Her post-delivery body looked impossibly fragile. “Mom raised us for twenty years! She’s done so much! If you have a problem, take it out on me! I’ll take her place! Please, just let her go!” The comment section exploded. [Are you insane? That’s your mother! What kind of hate is this?!] [A live-streamed patricide! This is sickening! She needs to be arrested! This woman clearly has violent genes!] The police warning popped up on my screen. [We are currently tracking your location. Surrender now, and you can still save the situation.] I smiled. “Welcome to the chase.” [!!! Too arrogant! Lock her up and throw away the key!] [Just shoot her on sight. She’s too dangerous.] I didn’t speak. I simply turned toward my mother. She trembled. “Jade. Please, surrender. I’ll write a letter of leniency for you.” [Poor dear, the unconditional love of a mother.] [It’s true, even after all this, a mother would still forgive her daughter.] [Jade is a monster!] I chuckled. “No need.” The blade dragged across the floor, sparking as it scraped the cement. I approached my mother. [!! Stop! Don’t touch your mother!] [Police! Where are you! Stop her!] “Sister!” Phoebe’s voice was a ragged shriek. I pressed the knife against Mom’s throat. She shook uncontrollably. “Jade, are you really going to kill your mother?” I looked down at her. “Tell me. Where is Micah?” Mom froze. 2 Not just Mom. Everyone watching the live stream paused. Phoebe’s tears finally overflowed. “Jade, he died! We all grieved for him!” “No!” I whirled around, my eyes burning. The knife in my hand trembled. I ground my teeth. “He’s not dead! I know he’s not dead!” “Jade! I know you’re hurting because of the miscarriage, we all are! But you have to move on!” My father, whom I had not seen in months, roared through the stream. I just smiled. I looked at my mother. “Mom, you know if my baby was truly miscarried, don’t you?” Her eyes darted away. I looked back at the camera. “Ladies and gentlemen! I did not start this stream to commit murder. I started it to find my child—the son my mother hid from me!” [What is she talking about?] [She had a miscarriage, but she thinks the baby is alive?] I stared hard at the lens. “What you might not know is that my ‘miscarriage’ was no accident. It was the direct result of my sister’s drinking while pregnant, and my mother—to make her realize the danger—forcing me to drink bottle after bottle of beer in my eighth month!” [What? Is that… an actual sentence?] [I can understand the words, but not when they’re put together like that.] [The mother forced the older daughter to miscarry just to teach the younger one a lesson about drinking while pregnant?] [If that is true, I would go absolutely insane!] I smiled at my mother. “Right, Mom? Tell them the truth.” “Lies!” Mom raged. “You were reckless! You wouldn’t listen to anyone! Why would I force you to miscarry? He was my grandchild too!” [Hmm… I think the mother makes sense. A mother’s love is complex, but no one would do that to a grandchild.] [I have two daughters too. Even if I favor one sometimes, they are still my children.] [She must have had a breakdown after the miscarriage, a delusion that her mother forced her to drink and hid the baby.] [Definitely. No sane person would live-stream a murder attempt.] I knelt in front of Mom. “I know exactly why you did it, Mom. I’ve been Phoebe’s Control Group for over twenty years. And my Micah? He was going to live on to be your perfect grandson’s next control group, wasn’t he?” “You’re talking nonsense!” Mom shrieked. But I saw it. Her breathing was uneven. The panic of being exposed. I placed my hand on her knee. “Mom, why did you do this to me? Am I not your daughter, too?” “You’re crazy!” She twisted her head away, unable to meet my eyes. I gave a bitter laugh. I stood up, my expression turning icy. “I know the police are tracing this. Don’t worry, you won’t find me. But I promise you this: As soon as you bring me my son, Micah, I will walk out and surrender. If you fail to…” I pointed the machete at Mom. “Every ten minutes, I take a piece of her.” [A torture-murder?] [She’s completely deranged!] I ignored the furious scrolling of the comments and Phoebe’s desperate, heart-wrenching sobs. I hit the timer. The police were stalled. They had no choice but to follow my instructions. A unit was sent to question the family about Micah. Without exception, they all maintained the same story: “He was stillborn.” My father, wiping away performative tears, claimed, “If Jade hadn’t been so reckless with alcohol, Micah wouldn’t have died in utero! Now that she’s lost him, she blames her mother!” I scoffed. I just watched the timer. “Ten minutes is up.” I stood. Phoebe rushed toward her camera. “Sister! Don’t do anything crazy! You’re just talking, right? That’s Mom! We’ll find Micah together when you get out, okay?” I stood behind Mom. I grabbed her ear. A sharp, downward strike. Mom’s scream was pure, animal agony. I held the severed ear up to the webcam. In Phoebe’s horrified gaze, I let it drop. The small, wet slap as it hit the desktop. Phoebe’s eyes rolled back; she collapsed into the arms of her husband, Dr. Adam Fitch. Adam, furious, stepped in front of the camera and slapped a stack of papers onto the table. “Jade, wake up!” There, stark and irrefutable… was Micah’s death certificate. 3 I stared at the report for a long time, unable to speak. Adam was breathing heavily. “It’s signed, sealed, and stamped by the hospital! What more proof do you need?” The comments went ballistic. [Confirmed. Jade is officially crazy!] [Witnesses and evidence are all here. She really must be psychotic, hallucinating the baby was hidden.] [Poor Mom, this is a nightmare she never deserved.] “Jade!” Adam glared at me through the lens, a hint of desperation in his eyes. I picked up the printed death certificate and flipped through it. Then, I turned and reset the timer. “Jade!” Adam shrieked at the camera like a maniac, as if trying to reach through the screen to strangle me. I simply sat back, composed, watching the countdown. “You’re insane! Absolutely insane!” Adam paced, then pointed directly at the camera. “What is it going to take for you to believe us? Micah’s ashes are already buried! If you don’t trust a death certificate, what do you trust?” “I don’t distrust the death certificate.” I looked coldly at the screen. “I distrust the death certificate you provided.” He froze. I stood up, leaning my hands on the table. “Dr. Fitch, if anyone else had signed this, it would be one thing. But it has your signature.” His face went pale. I smiled sardonically. “All those years Mom was using me as Phoebe’s control group, you never once objected. In fact, you probably encouraged her, telling her all the bad habits you wanted Phoebe to drop, so Mom could experiment on me instead, giving your wife a ‘painless’ lesson!” Adam deliberately looked away. I leaned closer to the camera, my smile widening. “You just wanted your son to learn his life lessons the easy way, didn’t you? Well, I’m telling you, Dr. Fitch, that will never happen. My son will never be the control group for yours!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Adam’s breathing was fast and shallow. I chuckled and sat back in the chair. “You don’t? Fine. You certified him as stillborn. Are you willing to bring in the obstetrician and the entire delivery team who were on duty that night, to confront me?” “I—” Adam choked. He couldn’t get a word out. The comments immediately shifted. [Wait, something’s wrong. Is the death certificate fake?] [If it’s real, why can’t he answer? Did the baby live?] [They wouldn’t really use someone else’s child as a control group, would they? That’s pure evil!] The police officers who were questioning Phoebe and Adam saw the change in their faces. “Sir, we need your full cooperation.” “No! Wait, don’t listen to her! I didn’t fake anything, it’s all real!” Adam was panicking. The police were composed. “We will contact your colleagues for verification, including everyone on the delivery team that night. Rest assured, we won’t wrongly accuse you.” “Wh-What?” Adam’s face went white. Phoebe rushed to his side. “Don’t bother, Officers! My sister is lying! You should be finding her location, not suspecting innocent people here!” [This is suspicious. Why are they so desperate?] [The attitude shift is too sudden. They are definitely hiding something.] [Could Jade’s baby really have been hidden by them?] The viewers could see it, and the police saw it instantly. With the timer showing less than a minute remaining, the officer’s face hardened. “Mr. Fitch, this is a matter of life and death. If you are concealing the child’s condition, you can still gain leniency by confessing now. And Mrs. Tanner can be spared further harm.” “I… I…” Adam was buckling. “The baby died!” The door was pushed open. A man walked in, calm and assured, and faced the officers. “Officers, please don’t believe any of Jade’s accusations.” I stood up. “Neil!” He looked at me. “Jade, stop this farce.” 4 I knew this wouldn’t be easy. But I never thought the person to stop me would be my own husband. “What are you doing here?” My fists were clenched tight. His expression was cold and aloof. “Stopping you from making an even bigger mistake.” “Micah isn’t dead!” “He is dead!” In three years of marriage, this was the first time he had ever yelled at me. The comments were a mess of question marks. [What is happening now?] [Her own husband is confirming the baby is dead?] [But Jade seemed genuine, didn’t she? Is Neil Everett taking his sister-in-law’s side? That’s his son!] “No, everyone, Jade is lying.” Neil Everett turned to the camera with a heavy sigh. “My wife is suffering from postpartum psychosis.” I froze. The comments were still confused. “After we lost the baby, she developed severe postpartum depression, which eventually led to this. She can’t accept that Micah is gone, and has even fabricated this delusion that she was Phoebe’s control group. As her husband, I understand and feel tremendous sympathy for her.” He looked at me, his eyes softening with the gentle concern that had won me over years ago. “Jade, please, stop this. We can have another baby.” “I’m not making a farce!” My eyes stung. “You know Micah is alive! You know better than anyone! Why are you lying to protect them?” “Micah is dead!” He tossed a folder onto the table in front of the camera. The title was clear and chilling: [AUTOPSY REPORT] 5 The report was detailed and complete. Every step had a photograph. Though my baby had been rushed away the moment he was born, I had caught a brief, half-conscious glimpse of him. The baby’s face in the autopsy photos—it was my Micah. Acute intrauterine asphyxia. He was born blue, without any life signs… Looking at his tiny, suffocated face as he took his first and final breath, my legs gave out. I sank to the floor, clutching the report to my chest, my tears blurring the text. “How could this be… I heard him cry… I know I did…” Neil sighed softly. “You must have heard the woman next door, sweetie…” “Ah!!” A guttural cry tore from my throat. I pressed the autopsy report to my chest and cried, letting out all the grief and pain that had been trapped inside me. At the same time, Phoebe rushed to Neil, collapsing against him, as if to kneel. Neil caught her instantly. “Thank you, Neil. You’ve always helped me, since college. Now you’re married to my sister, and you’re still looking out for me. I can never repay this kindness. Please, let me thank you on my knees.” “Stop it!” Neil gripped her arms tightly. His throat bobbed as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. “We’re family. This is what I’m supposed to do.” Phoebe sniffled and returned to Adam’s side. Neil’s eyes followed her, lingering for a moment, before he regained his cool composure and looked at the camera. “Jade, stop this. It’s not too late.” I stumbled to my feet. Mom looked at me with deep concern. “Jade.” My expression was blank. “Jade, Mom has been a little biased, I admit, but I would never harm my own grandchild!” I watched her tears fall. She wouldn’t, would she? No matter how much she favored Phoebe, she wouldn’t conspire to kill her own grandchild… I walked toward her, my hands shaking as I reached for the zip-ties on her wrist. “Jade, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I kept untying the knot. Just as it was about to come undone, a small detail flashed in my mind. “No!” I pulled the knot tight again. “Jade?!” Mom’s eyes widened. The ten-minute timer went off. I pointed the machete directly at her. “The autopsy report is fake!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390152”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel