Category: English

On the afternoon of my college graduation, I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw a post from a local wedding photographer. Ten years in the business, and this is a first! A couple skipping their college graduation to shoot their wedding portraits! Not only are they drop-dead gorgeous, but the bride was entirely focused on her groom’s comfort the whole time. She kept saying that marrying him was the greatest luck of her life. My camera’s memory card is maxed out, but capturing a love like this? Totally worth it. A dull ache throbbed behind my ribs. Earlier today, my girlfriend, Cecilia, had bailed on our graduation ceremony at the last minute. We hadn’t even taken a single photo together in our caps and gowns. Swallowing my disappointment, I tapped on the photo, expecting to see a stranger’s happy ending. My eyes landed on their faces. The air vanished from my lungs. One of them was Cecilia. The girl I had loved for four years. The girl who told me we would get married the second we both landed stable jobs. The other was Jace. My best friend. The golden boy of our graduating class. Just two hours ago, Jace had been texting me, telling me that there were plenty of fish in the sea, that if Cecilia couldn’t make time for my graduation, I should just dump her. And now, here he was. Fingers laced with my girlfriend’s, looking every bit the man about to step into his happily ever after. … 1 I stared at the screen until the edges of the photo blurred and doubled. My phone buzzed frantically. Our senior class group chat was exploding. Wait, since when are Cecilia and Jace a thing? Ngl, Jace looks incredibly hot in a tux. Cecilia looks gorgeous too, but isn’t she dating Gilbert? Love triangle much? A sharp, electric pain shot through my chest. My fingers trembled so violently I could barely type as I opened Jace’s chat. Are you with Cecilia? Read at 4:12 PM. No reply. I hit the call button on Cecilia’s contact. The dial tone stretched out—fifteen seconds that felt like a slow, agonizing century. Finally, a click. “Gilbert? What’s wrong?” I dug my nails into my palm, fighting to keep my voice from breaking. “Where are you? I need to ask you something.” I have chronic asthma, and whenever my emotions spike, my throat tightens, leaving my voice a raspy wreck. Cecilia always used to notice. She’d show up at my dorm with thermos cups of hot honey tea, rubbing my back until the tightness faded. Now, hearing the gravel in my voice, a note of panic slipped into hers. “What is it? Are you having trouble breathing again?” “Are you with Jace?” Before I could even finish the sentence, Cecilia let out a sharp gasp. Her breath hitched. “Gilbert, I—I’m tied up right now. I’ll call you later!” The line went dead. I stood frozen in the middle of my dorm room, the silence ringing in my ears. She had hung up fast. But not fast enough. In that split second before the call dropped, I heard it. A man’s low, breathless chuckle. Jace. The blood rushed to my head in a roaring wave. I dialed again. It went straight to voicemail. By the time my brain caught up with my body, I was already sprinting across campus. Jace lived off-campus in a luxury townhouse his parents had bought him freshman year. He had programmed my fingerprint into his smart lock himself. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the gesture, but he had just laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “Man, I know how easily you get played,” he had said. “Consider my place your safe haven. We’re brothers.” Now, I was standing in the foyer of my brother’s safe haven, tears blurring my vision. The rhythmic thud against the headboard upstairs. The muffled moans. It was like taking a baseball bat to the skull. I practically ripped the bedroom door off its hinges. Jace was standing by the bed, pulling up his slacks. He didn’t flinch. He just looked at me, an amused smirk playing on his lips, and raised an eyebrow. “Well. Busted.” On the bed, Cecilia frantically pulled the sheets up, her face pale with panic. “Gilbert, please, it’s not what you think—” But the roaring in my ears drowned her out. My eyes were fixed on the massive, framed engagement portrait already leaning against the wall. A year ago, we had watched a viral wedding video, and I had absentmindedly murmured that I couldn’t wait for us to have photos like that. Cecilia hadn’t said much. But the next day, she handed me a gift box containing a silk tie. “Gilbert, I can’t afford a whole custom suit for you right now,” she had said, her cheeks flushed. “But when I get my promotion, I promise I’m going to buy you the sharpest tuxedo in the city. You’re going to be the most handsome groom.” Now, I was nothing but a spectator to her actual wedding. The white tulle of her dress in that portrait looked like spun glass, sharp enough to bleed me out. I lunged forward, grabbed the heavy frame, and smashed it onto the hardwood floor. Glass shattered, biting deeply into my palms. Blood dripped onto the pristine white rug. Cecilia scrambled off the bed, grabbing my bleeding wrist, her voice shrill. “Are you crazy?! You’re hurting yourself!” I shoved her away, a visceral roar tearing from my throat. “Don’t touch me!” Jace, still shirtless, stepped between us. He looked at me with bored pity. Every ounce of heartbreak inside me crystallized into pure venom. I ground my teeth. “How does it feel, Jace? Fucking your best friend’s girl? Are you that pathetic that you have to take my leftovers?” Jace’s jaw clenched. He swung, his fist connecting squarely with my jaw. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. He let out a cold laugh. “Jesus, Gilbert. Stop being so dramatic.” “Don’t touch him!” Cecilia shoved Jace hard, turning frantically to check my bruised face. The strap of her silk slip fell from her shoulder, revealing a constellation of fresh, dark bruises blooming across her collarbone. Jace stumbled back, but he didn’t look mad. He just looked at me with utter contempt. “Cecilia and I are merging our families’ portfolios,” Jace said, brushing off his shoulder. “It’s a corporate marriage. It’s strictly business. You two can keep playing house for all I care. Honestly, I’m being the best friend you could ask for. I’m letting you sleep with my future wife, and you’re throwing a tantrum?” I stared at him, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Merging portfolios?” Jace came from new money—a flashy, affluent background that had everyone on campus eager to get into his orbit. But Cecilia? She came from a standard, middle-class family. She couldn’t even make our graduation today because she was supposedly working a double shift at her entry-level desk job. Just weeks ago, I had joked about when we were going to turn our dating anniversary into a wedding anniversary. She had buried her face in my chest, laughing. “Once they take me off probation at work! I need to save up my own money so I can walk down the aisle with my head held high. You just focus on your career, Gilbert. I’m going to be the most beautiful bride.” Seeing the sheer confusion on my face, Jace burst out laughing. “God, Gilbert, you are even dumber than I thought.” He pointed a finger at Cecilia, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “She’s Cecilia Whitmore. Sole heiress to Whitmore Enterprises.” The room spun. “The whole school knew by the end of freshman year,” Jace continued relentlessly. “She bought everyone’s silence. She wanted to play ‘poor little rich girl,’ and you were the perfect, clueless prop. The guy she lived with every day, and you didn’t suspect a thing. You’ve been playing the idiot for four years.” The tears finally broke, spilling hot and fast down my cheeks. I swiped at them, but they kept coming. “Stop it, Jace! That’s enough!” Cecilia yelled, her voice cracking. She reached up, desperate to wipe the tears from my face. I stumbled backward, putting as much space between us as the room allowed. I looked at her—really looked at her—and felt absolutely nothing but a hollow void. “Is it true? You’ve been lying to me since day one?” Cecilia fell silent. For a long moment, she just looked at the floor. Then, she let out a long, heavy exhale. “Jace is right. I am a Whitmore.” Her tone was apologetic, yet beneath it, I could hear the unmistakable relief of a burden lifted. “That necklace you bought me for my birthday last year? I told you I didn’t want to wear it because it was too precious. The truth is, it turned my skin green. It was cheap. I hid my identity because I didn’t want you to be like every other guy, looking at my trust fund instead of me. Gilbert… you couldn’t even recognize the designer labels I wore. How could I ever actually marry you? I’d be the laughingstock of my social circle.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. My entire chest went numb. For four years, I had worked myself to the bone. Every spare hour between classes was spent bussing tables or tutoring. Cecilia knew my mother was sick. She knew I needed the money for her medical bills. She would sneak twenty-dollar bills into my wallet, then delete the Venmo notifications so I wouldn’t feel emasculated. Once, during a brutal summer heatwave, I caught her handing out flyers in a heavy, sweltering mascot suit outside a car dealership. She was practically dizzy from dehydration. I was devastated, begging her to quit. But she had just smiled brightly, wiping sweat from her forehead. “I’m not doing this for you, dummy! I’m saving up my dowry!” For her birthday, I ate instant ramen for three months to afford a delicate, niche-brand necklace. I was poor, so I used the only currency I had: my absolute sincerity. She was rich. So she used her money to test mine. Jace looked at me with mock sympathy. “Gilbert, you need to know your place. The Whitmore family practically owns half this state. You really think they’d let her marry a guy who scrubs dishes for minimum wage? I tried to tell you to find someone in your own tax bracket. Too bad you never listened.” A memory flashed: Jace telling me I was too obsessed with my girlfriend, that I needed to remember the brotherhood. But he had always covered my tab when we went out. He’d slip me extra cash, claiming it was a “delivery fee” for picking up his packages. I thought it was brotherly love. It was just charity. A wave of profound humiliation washed over me, burning my skin. I lunged forward, shoving Cecilia away. “You’re both disgusting!” I roared. Cecilia stumbled but quickly recovered, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a tight, suffocating hug. She spoke in that gentle, soothing tone she always used when I was stressed. “Shh, Gilbert, don’t cry. You’re the Valedictorian. You have to give your speech tomorrow. Honestly, it works out perfectly. You and Jace are best friends. We’ll basically be a family. You’ll never have to worry about your mother’s hospital bills again.” Jace leaned lazily against the wall, snorting. “Honestly, if I thought some random guy marrying you would hurt Gilbert’s career later, I never would have agreed to this merger. Don’t worry, man. Our brotherhood comes first. You and Cecilia can keep dating. My marriage to her is just ink on paper.” I shoved Cecilia backward so hard she hit the mattress. Then I turned and drove my fist into Jace’s face with everything I had left. “Go to hell!” I ran. I sprinted out of the townhouse, out into the humid evening air. Cecilia didn’t follow me. The next morning, I walked into the university auditorium. My eyes were swollen shut, my face pale and haggard. Before I could even find my seat, someone in the aisle recognized me. “Holy shit. Is that the guy who got cucked by his own best friend?” Before I could process the words, a hand clamped onto my arm, dragging me into a quiet hallway. It was Cecilia. Her eyes were blazing. “Jace is your best friend. How could you do that to him?!” she hissed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” I yanked my arm away. Cecilia sneered, shoving her phone into my face. On the university’s anonymous Reddit forum, a post had thousands of upvotes. Someone had uploaded photos of Jace, claiming he had befriended a poor student just to sleep with his girlfriend. The comments were tearing Jace apart. Cecilia looked at me with sheer disgust. “Jace and I are just a corporate merger! Did you have to make this so incredibly ugly? He never looked down on you. He paid for half your meals! And this is how you repay him? You’re a parasite, Gilbert.” I told her I didn’t write the post. I didn’t care enough to write the post. But she just shook her head. Through the double doors, the Dean called my name to come to the stage. Cecilia took a step back, her voice dropping to a glacial whisper. “You’re going to regret this.” The commencement was being live-streamed to thousands of alumni. I forced myself to breathe, walking out to the center of the stage. I adjusted the microphone. I opened my mouth to speak. Suddenly, a voice roared from the back of the auditorium. “Get him off the stage! He’s a fraud!” “Expel him!” I flinched. Turning around, I looked at the massive projector screen behind me. Instead of my prepared slides, the screen displayed bank transfers, chat logs, and emails. They were entirely fabricated documents “proving” that I had hired ghostwriters for my senior thesis and bribed an administrator to secure the Valedictorian spot. The auditorium erupted into chaos. I gripped the podium. “This is a lie! I didn’t do this!” But the university administration panicked. The microphone was cut dead. Security guards marched onto the stage, grabbing me by the arms, dragging me off in front of a sea of booing parents and students. Backstage, Cecilia stood leaning against a brick wall, her arms crossed, watching me with dead eyes. I clenched my jaw, fighting the tears threatening to spill. “Is this what you wanted? To destroy my life?” Through the blur of my vision, I remembered the way she had looked at me when we found out my mother’s illness had returned. Her eyes had been so full of tears. “Gilbert, I’m going to work so hard. I’ll pay for Martha’s treatments. I just want you to marry me without any burdens.” Now, the woman standing in front of me was a stranger. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. “The best way to kill a PR crisis is to start a bigger one. If you hadn’t posted that hit piece about Jace, I wouldn’t have had to do this. You brought this on yourself, Gilbert.” By noon, my thesis was voided. My degree was officially revoked. I slumped against the wall of a campus alleyway, entirely broken. My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. Dozens of texts poured in. Backstabbing piece of shit. You framed Jace because you’re insecure. Kill yourself. I looked up. Jace was standing at the end of the alley, hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Gilbert, we’ve known each other for a decade. You know I don’t just sit back and take a hit.” When we were five, a group of older kids had cornered me in the sandbox. Jace had thrown rocks at them until they ran. When we were twelve, a convenience store owner accused me of stealing and locked me in the back room. Jace had thrown his heavy backpack at the man’s head, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me to safety. “Brothers for life,” he had panted, grinning. When we were eighteen, Jace gave up his lacrosse scholarship to spend six months studying with me, just so we could get into the same university. “You’re too soft, man,” he had joked. “Someone’s gotta watch your back.” Now, the boy who used to watch my back looked at me like I was a cockroach. “I’ve never been humiliated like this,” Jace said smoothly. “You stabbed me in the back on that forum. You got the whole school dragging my name. You had to pay the toll. It’s only fair.” It was Jace who had posted the rumors about himself. He played the victim, then released the “proof” that he and Cecilia had been engaged for months, painting me as the delusional, toxic ex who couldn’t let go. Seeing the dead, hollow look in my eyes, a flicker of hesitation crossed Cecilia’s face. She opened her mouth, stepping forward. Before she could speak, my phone rang. It was my mother. Her voice was thin, trembling like a leaf. “Gilbert… are you… did you ruin another man’s relationship?” The world stopped spinning. “Mom. No, I didn’t…” Before I could finish, a sharp, gasping wheeze came through the receiver, followed by the clattering sound of the phone hitting the floor. Then, nothing. Panic seized my chest. “Mom?! Mom!” Since the winter, my mother’s heart condition had deteriorated rapidly. She had been in the ICU three times. I had turned down a master’s program just to get a corporate job immediately, desperate for the health insurance to keep her alive. I sprinted to the hospital like a madman. By the time I reached her room, the monitors were screaming. Doctors were already running in. Through the chaos, she looked at me, her chest heaving violently. “Gilbert… tell me you didn’t do it…” Her eyes rolled back. The flatline tone pierced the air. “I didn’t! Mom, I swear I didn’t!” I screamed, dropping to my knees as the nurses shoved past me, wheeling her bed toward the surgical wing. I ran to the billing department, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I pulled out my debit card to authorize the emergency surgery deposit. The clerk swiped it. She frowned. She swiped it again. “Sir, this card is declining. The balance is zero.” “That’s impossible.” Every dime of my academic grants for the last four years was in that account. I had never touched it. I turned around. Jace was walking into the lobby, feigning surprise. “Oh, right. I forgot to mention,” Jace said lazily. “I had a chat with the financial aid office. Since you were expelled for academic fraud, they retroactively revoked your grants. Seized the funds. Best to leave that money for students who actually deserve it.” Tears streamed down my face. I pulled out my phone, dialing the HR director of the tech firm where I was supposed to start on Monday. I begged for an advance on my signing bonus. The response was glacial. “Mr. Joshua, we’ve received multiple reports regarding your disciplinary expulsion. Our offer of employment is formally rescinded.” The click of the phone hanging up felt like a bullet to the chest. I snapped. I lunged at Jace, grabbing him by the collar of his designer shirt, screaming, “What did I ever do to you?! Why are you doing this?!” Cecilia, having just walked through the sliding glass doors, saw me. She rushed over, tearing my hands off Jace and shoving me back. Her eyes blazed with fury. “I already had my assistant pay the hospital bill! Why the hell are you attacking Jace?!” I stumbled backward, the ground tilting beneath my feet. “Apologize to him,” Cecilia commanded, her voice cold and absolute. I looked up at her, the woman I had loved, entirely unrecognizable. She wrapped a protective arm around Jace. “He is my husband. You attacking him over and over is crossing a line I won’t tolerate. Apologize to him until he says it’s enough. Otherwise, I will walk over to that desk and withdraw the funding for your mother’s surgery right now.” Jace let out a soft, mocking laugh. “An apology is boring.” He looked down at me. “Remember our rule when we were kids, Gilbert? Whoever breaks the rules has to take a punishment. Get on your knees and beg. Then we’re square.” I thought of my mother. Her frail, hollowed-out face. Her gasping breath. I swallowed whatever pride I had left. I sank to my knees on the sterile linoleum floor. I bowed my head. My forehead hit the cold tile. Once. Twice. The dull thud echoed in the quiet lobby. Watching me completely shatter, a flash of something like guilt—or maybe just annoyance—crossed Cecilia’s face. “Alright, that’s enough. They just took your mom to the ward. Go see her.” Before walking away, Jace shot me a look so dark, so maliciously triumphant, that it sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t care. I scrambled to my feet and ran down the hallway toward the ICU. But as I rounded the corner, the doors swung open. A gurney was being pushed out. Covered entirely by a white sheet. The final thread of my sanity snapped. “You said she was going into surgery! Why is she—” The attending doctor looked at me, his face tight with regret. “Her vitals had stabilized. But a few minutes ago, a young man slipped into the room. We don’t know what he said to her, but her heart rate spiked massively. She suffered a massive cardiac rupture. I’m so sorry.” The memory of Jace’s dark, triumphant smile in the lobby hit me like a physical blow. My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, pulling the sheet back just enough to see her face, and I screamed until my vocal cords tore. I walked back onto campus with Jace, the afternoon sun feeling entirely too bright. Everywhere we went, people were whispering, pointing, eating up the drama of Gilbert’s spectacular fall from grace. The vulgar jokes and sneers grating against my ears made my stomach turn. I frowned, opening my mouth to tell a group of frat guys to shut up. Suddenly, the wail of sirens cut through the quad. Three squad cars screeched onto the lawn, boxing us in. Officers poured out. “Jace Harrington? Cecilia Whitmore? You’re coming with us. You’re suspects in a homicide.”

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I had spent years grinding like a dog, and finally, it paid off. I was being promoted to head the new regional branch. And on that very same day, my lottery ticket hit a million-dollar jackpot. Just as I was preparing to share the incredible news with my wife, HR pulled me aside. They told me there was a red flag in my background check. That’s when I found out I had been “divorced” for months. When I got home and confronted her, my wife acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. Just so her high school sweetheart could secure a spot for his kid in an elite school district, she had filed for a quiet dissolution, forged my signature, and married him. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she said. “It’s just a piece of paper. We can get remarried next year.” I stared at her, ice water running through my veins. Wait. You’re telling me I’m already divorced? A massive promotion, a million-dollar jackpot, and I’m single? Dear God. It’s like you didn’t just throw me a bone—you handed me the keys to the kingdom. 1 The VP clapped me on the shoulder, his tone warmer than it had ever been. “Dan, the official transfer will be finalized in a few days. You’re going to be the director of the new facility in Ohio.” “Do a good job out there. That plant is our core project for the next five years. Your future is limitless.” I swallowed the surge of pure ecstasy, offering a polite, measured thank you. The moment I stepped out of his office, my first instinct was to call my wife, Gillian. I wanted to tell her that our long, exhausting grind was finally over. I could finally buy her that spacious suburban home she’d been obsessing over. I’d never have to listen to her parents complain about my lack of ambition ever again. But before I could even pull out my phone, Frank from HR intercepted me. “Dan, step into my office for a second. We have something we need to verify.” Frank’s expression was bizarre—a mix of awkwardness and a pity he was trying desperately to hide. I followed him into the records room. “For this promotion, we had to run a standard background and family background check.” Frank pointed to the marital status column on his screen, his brow furrowed. “Is everything okay at home? The system is flagging your marital status as ‘Divorced.’” I froze. I stared at the bold, red word—Divorced—completely blank. What? Divorced without my knowledge? Frank sighed. “Look, you need to get this sorted out quickly. If it’s a system glitch or a clerical error, we need proof. Otherwise, this background check won’t clear, and the promotion could be held up.” I walked out of the building in a daze. My mind was a chaotic static. We’d been married for three years, and I had poured my entire soul into Gillian. When her brother got into trouble, I was the one waking up at 2:00 AM to bail him out of jail. When her parents fell ill, I took unpaid leave to pull overnight shifts at the hospital. And now? I was divorced? I didn’t have a single memory of it. How could a divorce even happen without me being present, let alone signing a single document? Driving home, Frank’s pitying look burned in my mind. At a red light, I idly reached into the center console. Among the receipts was a Powerball scratch-off I’d bought on a whim at a gas station the day before. Mechanically, I pulled out my phone and checked the winning numbers. What the… A million dollars? Me—a guy whose greatest stroke of luck in thirty years was winning a free soda under a bottle cap—had suddenly hit the jackpot? A massive promotion, and now a million-dollar windfall? But the rush of joy was instantly chased by a bitter laugh. Yesterday, I would have sprinted home to celebrate with Gillian. Now, it just felt like a cruel joke. Upward mobility, wealth, and a burning house. I unlocked the front door. The house was cold and silent. A few minutes later, the lock clicked. Gillian walked in. When she saw me sitting on the couch in the dark, she startled slightly. “Home so early?” She tossed her designer bag onto the entryway table, kick-starting her shoes off. I looked at her face—still beautiful, still familiar—but a deep, icy chill settled in my chest. “Gillian, HR called me in today.” Her movements paused, though her voice remained breezy. “Oh? Is the promotion official?” I held her gaze, speaking deliberately. “They said my file shows I’m divorced.” “Gillian. Explain this to me.” She slipped into her house slippers and walked over. There wasn’t a shred of panic on her face—just a flicker of annoyance. “Your company seriously needs to mind its own business. Why are they digging into our personal lives?” I stood up, my voice cutting through the quiet room. “I’m asking you a question, Gillian! Don’t dodge it!” “When did we get divorced? How does the husband not know he’s divorced?” Gillian frowned, hanging up her coat. Her tone was as casual as if she were commenting on the weather forecast. “Well, since you found out, there’s no point in hiding it.” “I filed for an uncontested dissolution. I started the process six months ago, and the judge signed off on it recently.” My brain felt like it was detonating. I physically swayed. “Uncontested dissolution? Are you out of your mind?” “We’ve been married for three years! What did I ever do to deserve you secretly suing me for divorce?” Gillian sighed, stepping closer to me. “Dan, be reasonable. I didn’t have a choice.” “Damian was in a terrible bind. His daughter, Maisie, needs to get into that elite public school in Cherry Hills, but they strictly enforce residency. You have to own property in the district.” “But the deed has to be in a married couple’s name for the school board’s quick verification. He had no one else he could trust to help him.” My hands began to shake. The world felt entirely surreal. “So… to help his kid get into a better school, you divorced your husband and married him?” Gillian nodded, as if her logic was flawless. “Yes. Damian said it was the only way.” “I thought about talking to you first, but you’re so stubborn, and you’ve always had this irrational bias against Damian. You would have said no.” “I couldn’t let a child’s future be ruined just because of your insecurity. Filing the paperwork quietly was the fastest way.” I sank back onto the couch, a physical ache blooming in my chest. “And what about our assets?” Gillian pursed her lips, her tone light. “I told the court we had been living apart and our marriage was irretrievably broken. To speed up the process, I checked the box for an equal division of assets. I didn’t take a dime of your pre-marital savings or touch your name on this house. That’s why the judge signed off so quickly.” I let out a hollow laugh, tears stinging my eyes. For three years, I had worked eighty-hour weeks, skipping meals to save money for our future. I paid the mortgage. I did the chores. And she went behind my back, using the legal system to discard me like trash, all to play savior to another man’s child. “So, you two are officially married now?” Gillian nodded, a faint sigh of relief escaping her. “We signed the papers at the courthouse about a month ago. It’s almost fully processed.” “But Dan, don’t worry. Damian promised that as soon as Maisie’s school registration is fully locked in next year, he’ll divorce me. I’ll come right back, we’ll get remarried, and things will go right back to how they were.” She reached out, attempting to wrap her arms around my neck, just like she used to do whenever she wanted something. I flinched away, leaving her hands hanging in the air. Gillian’s face darkened instantly. “Dan, what is with this attitude?” “I already told you, it’s a paper marriage. It’s just administrative. Do you have to be this petty?” “Damian helped me so much back in college. Helping him out now is just being a decent human being. Don’t be so selfish.” I stared at her. It was like looking at a stranger. She had packaged her betrayal, her profound disrespect of our marriage, as an act of saintly charity. And I, the victim, was the “selfish” one. “Whatever. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Gillian stood up straight, smoothing down her shirt. “Get your head straight. Don’t let this ruin your work tomorrow.” Without another word, she headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Leaving me alone in the living room. I leaned my head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. From the bathroom, the sound of running water echoed. Sitting in the dim light, my mind began to run the numbers. I had thought this was the worst day of my life. But as I really looked at it… this was the day I hit the trifecta. First: I was being promoted. Regional Director. Absolute authority, limitless budget, and a career-defining trajectory. Second: I was rich. A million dollars after taxes isn’t “retire tomorrow” money, but it was an incredible safety net. And the most beautiful part? I bought that lottery ticket after the legal date of our divorce. Under the law, that money was entirely, indisputably mine. Gillian had zero claim to it. Third: the house. In her rush to get a quick default divorce, she had waived all rights to the property. This meant I kept the house, kept my money, and effectively cut loose the entire parasitic Reynolds family. I started to laugh. What on earth was I crying for? Promotion. Fortune. Single. Men spend decades and millions trying to buy this kind of freedom. And it had dropped into my lap in a single afternoon. I stood up, rolling my shoulders. The heavy, suffocating weight in my chest evaporated. When I pushed the bathroom door open, Gillian was standing in front of the mirror, wrapping a towel around her wet hair. She startled, her brow furrowing. “I’m in the shower. What are you doing?” I didn’t apologize like I usually did. Instead, I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, letting my voice sound thick and heavy. “Babe… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” “I calmed down and thought about it. You’ve always been so kind-hearted.” “Damian was in a tough spot, and you were just helping. I shouldn’t have let my jealousy get the better of me.” Feeling me yield, her posture relaxed completely. She let out a soft huff, her tone returning to its familiar, superior height. “I’m glad you finally understand. Damian really had no other options.” “It’s only for a year. Just be good this year and don’t make a scene.” I smiled into her shoulder, my grip tightening slightly. “Of course. You’re so good to me, I’ll do whatever you want.” “But you did keep me in the dark. Tonight… you owe me.” Gillian gave me a playful shove, a coquettish smirk playing on her lips. “Stop it. We aren’t legally married right now, you know. Watch yourself.” I ignored her weak resistance, lifting her up easily. “You said it yourself—our relationship isn’t broken. It’s just paperwork.” “Besides, you wouldn’t want me going to Damian’s place to make a scene and ruin Maisie’s school registration, right?” Gillian wrapped her arms around my neck, her eyes fluttering shut. “Fine, fine. You’re impossible.” That night, I didn’t hold back. I pulled out every stop, enjoying myself with an intensity I hadn’t felt in years. It was incredibly freeing. The next morning, the sun broke through the blinds. I woke up feeling lighter than air. I looked at Gillian, still fast asleep beside me. She was beautiful, sure. But incredibly, catastrophically foolish. I dressed quietly, feeling the stiff edge of the lottery ticket in my pocket. It was as if the universe had looked down at the three years of misery I’d endured with her family and decided it was time to balance the scales. I sat at the kitchen island, slowly sipping my coffee. My mind drifted back to the year we met. College seniors. We’d been in the same department for four years but barely spoke. Then we ended up at the same internship, and things naturally developed. Back then, Gillian didn’t have these calculating eyes. Her laugh was bright and genuine. I remembered the night our internship ended. We’d shared a cheap pitcher of beer at a college bar. She’d looked at me and said, “Dan, you’re so steady. Whoever marries you is going to feel so safe.” And I, riding a wave of liquid courage, had replied, “Why don’t you find out?” It was a natural progression from there. Graduation, the proposal, the wedding. Everything had followed a neat, uncomplicated script. I thought it was the kind of deep, quiet love people spent lifetimes searching for. Until Damian Ward re-entered the picture two years ago. Her high school sweetheart. They’d only dated for a few months back then, but those are the worst kind of men—like a stubborn burr stuck to your coat, impossible to shake off, constantly irritating. Damian had shown up with a little girl, playing the tragic role of the struggling single father. And the kid, Maisie, knew exactly how to play her part. She’d look at Gillian with wide eyes and whisper, “Miss Gillian, I miss my mommy.” And just like that, Gillian’s maternal instincts went into overdrive. I had tried to warn her early on. “Gillian, helping is one thing, but you’re crossing boundaries.” But she always dismissed me, claiming I was being overly sensitive. She was just visiting a lonely child. “Her mother abandoned her, Dan. How can you be so heartless?” Thinking back, I could only smile at my own stupidity. Once you let a boundary be crossed, it ceases to exist. I had been blinded by what I thought was love, believing that if I just took one step back, our home would remain intact. I hadn’t just taken a step back. I had backed myself right off a cliff. “Why didn’t you make me breakfast?” Gillian’s voice drifted from the bedroom door. She was leaning against the frame in her silk robe, her hair messy, rubbing her eyes. I looked at the empty coffee pot and the clean pans. “I figured you’d want to sleep in.” Gillian pulled out a stool and sat down, frowning when she saw only my dirty mug on the counter. She rolled her eyes, murmuring under her breath. “Well, whose fault is that after last night?” She looked at me expectantly. “I’m starving. Go fry me some eggs and heat up some milk.” A day ago, I would have already been at the stove, asking her exactly how she wanted her yolks. Instead, I sat perfectly still, swirling the last drop of coffee in my mug. “If you’re hungry, make it yourself. I have to get to the office.” Gillian blinked, clearly caught off guard by the refusal. I looked at her lovely face. I felt absolutely nothing. In fact, I wanted to laugh. Gillian, you really don’t get it, do you? You aren’t my wife anymore. Why on earth would I keep serving you? “I’ve got a busy day. Order some takeout and get some rest,” I said, my tone perfectly pleasant. I didn’t need to start a war. There was no point. But the days of me putting her on a pedestal were officially over. I sat in my car and shot a quick text to my VP, requesting a half-day for some personal errands. He replied instantly, telling me to take all the time I needed. He just wanted me ready for the transition. I drove straight to the state lottery headquarters downtown. I kept a low profile. The last thing I needed was the Reynolds family finding out. If they got wind of this money, they would drag me through every court in the state trying to claim a piece of it. The redemption process was surprisingly clinical. Paperwork, ID verification, tax forms. The clerks had seen it all; their faces didn’t even register a flicker of envy. Then, my phone buzzed in my hand. A direct deposit notification. Staring at the string of zeros in my bank account, I finally let out the breath I felt I’d been holding for three years.

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In my past life, I spent ten years turning Alexander from a broke nobody into a billionaire. In return, he teamed up with my adopted sister, drove my parents to their deaths, and threw me into the fire with his own hands. As I lay dying, a cold mechanical voice echoed in my mind: “Congratulations, Host, on completing the early angst arc. After rebirth, please use a gentler love to redeem him.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back — back to the day Alexander was pinned down in an underground casino, about to lose a hand. The system told me to step in and take the blade for him. I smiled and said yes. I grabbed the knife right out of the man’s hand — and brought it down myself. Alexander’s blood splattered all over my face. The underground casino reeked of cheap cigarettes and blood. “Hold him down! You think you can cheat at my table and walk away with both hands?!” The scarred man’s roar shook the walls. I stood in a dim corner, watching Alexander get slammed onto the gambling table with cold, detached eyes. That sharp, arrogant face of his was smeared with dust and cold sweat. His eyes — wild, like a cornered animal — were locked straight onto me. Beneath the surface churned desperation, humiliation, and the faintest flicker of a plea for help. This exact moment, in my past life, was when those eyes fooled me. I had thrown myself forward like a madwoman, taking that rusted cleaver for him. The tendon in my right hand was severed. I never held a paintbrush again. And he — he gave me one cold glance, then calmly reached over and took the check I’d brought to pay off his debt. 【Host! Step forward immediately and take the blade for the male lead!】 【Current blackening level: 90%. Redemption progress: 0%.】 【Please follow the original script and warm his cold heart with your selfless love!】 The sharp mechanical voice screeched inside my head. I picked up a half-finished glass of red wine from the bar and gave it a slow swirl. The deep crimson liquid spun inside the glass — just like the blood pooling around my parents when they died. My dear little sister Chloe had been curled up in Alexander’s arms at the time, smiling — sweet and cruel all at once. A tearing pain radiated from somewhere deep in my chest. I lowered my eyes, buried every emotion, and swallowed down the bitterness and hatred rising in my throat. Then I took a quiet sip of wine. 【Warning! Host behavior has critically deviated from the main storyline!】 The system blared an alarm. I ignored it. “Victoria! What are you doing standing all the way over there?! You here to watch me suffer?!” Alexander finally snapped. He ground his teeth, his voice rough and low as he snarled at me. He was always like this — demanding things from me like it was his birthright. As if I had been put on this earth to give him everything. I let out a soft laugh and drained the rest of my wine. “Yeah,” I said. My voice was quiet, but it carried clearly to his ears. “I’m here to watch you lose that hand.” Alexander’s pupils shrank. He stared at me like he didn’t recognize me anymore. “You think playing hard to get is going to make me grateful?” He let out a cold laugh. “Victoria, you’re disgusting.” I looked at his smug, superior expression — even now, with a blade about to come down on him — and thought: the version of me from my past life was a complete and utter fool. “What are you waiting for?” I glanced over at the scarred man. “Looks like he doesn’t want that hand anyway.” The scarred man blinked — then broke into a vicious grin. The blade came down. “AAAGH—!” A raw, agonized scream tore through the entire underground casino. Blood splattered across the green felt of the gambling table. It was a brutal sight. Alexander crumpled to the floor, clutching his bleeding right hand, his eyes burning into me — filled with hatred. I set the empty wine glass back on the bar and walked out. This time, I was going to watch him — every step of the way — as he fell into the abyss. The early autumn night breeze carried a faint chill. I pushed open the front door of the Astor family villa. The living room was bright and warm. Mom was arranging flowers. Dad sat in his reading glasses, watching the financial news. When they saw me walk in, Mom immediately set down her scissors and came toward me. “Vicky, why are you home so late? It’s windy out — are you cold?” Dad looked up too. He didn’t say anything, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to hide. The moment I saw their faces — alive, real, right in front of me — my eyes filled with tears. I stepped forward and pulled Mom into a tight hug. “Mom… Dad…” I breathed them in, almost desperately, like I was trying to hold onto the feeling forever.

In my past life, this house had burned to ash. And my parents — they had been driven to jump from the rooftop. “Hey, what’s all this? Who upset my little princess?” Mom rubbed my back gently, her voice full of tenderness. I shook my head and forced the tears back down. “Nothing. I just missed you guys.” I made a silent vow: in this life, anyone who dared to touch the Astor family — even slightly — I would make them pay with everything they had. I had barely steadied myself when hurried footsteps sounded just outside the door. Chloe walked in supporting Alexander, whose face was deathly pale and whose right hand was wrapped in thick bandages. Chloe’s eyes were red and swollen, looking utterly pitiful. “Victoria, you’re back,” she said, glancing at me timidly. “I was passing by that off-the-books clinic on the south side of town and found Alexander badly hurt.” “I always thought you cared about him more than anyone. How could you just leave him there alone?” “I couldn’t bear to, so I brought him home. Please don’t be upset with me for taking matters into my own hands.” In just a few sentences, she’d painted me as a cold-blooded, heartless woman who’d let someone die without lifting a finger. And she was the kind, pure-hearted savior. In my previous life, I fell for that fake-innocent act of hers. I thought she was a sweet, well-behaved little sister. I had no idea she’d already been secretly involved with Alexander, the two of them plotting to strip the Astor family of everything. Alexander leaned weakly against the doorframe, cold sweat soaking through his shirt. He looked past Chloe, his gaze cutting straight toward me. There was a hidden challenge in his eyes. He was waiting for me to lose it — waiting for me to rush over and fuss over him with worried questions. After all, in the past, even if he got the tiniest scratch, I’d be too anxious to sleep for the entire night. Dad frowned. “Chloe, why are you bringing strangers home? What happened to his hand?” Chloe’s tears came tumbling down. “Dad, Alexander is in such a bad way — someone slashed his hand. If I hadn’t helped him, he could’ve bled out.” As she cried, she snuck glances at me, watching my reaction. I sat on the sofa, picked up the cup of black tea the housekeeper had just brewed, and blew on it gently. Alexander’s brow furrowed deeply. My calm was making him inexplicably irritated. “Victoria.” He finally couldn’t hold back anymore. His voice was weak but laced with suppressed anger. “Are you done with your little tantrum?” I set down my teacup and looked up at him. “Alexander, who the hell do you think you are? You’re not worth throwing a tantrum over.” My tone was completely flat, without a single ripple of emotion. “If Chloe likes picking up strays, let her. The Astor estate is big enough — we can afford to feed one more.” Alexander’s face turned ashen instantly. He stared at me, his chest heaving violently. The movement pulled at his wound, and he sucked in a sharp breath from the pain. Chloe was stunned too. “Victoria, how could you say something like that about Alexander…” “Shut up.” I cut her off coldly. “You brought him here, so you pay his medical bills. Don’t expect the Astor family to spend a single dime. And don’t let him stain the Persian rugs — they’re expensive.” With that, I stood up and walked straight toward the stairs. As I passed Alexander, he suddenly shot out his left hand and tried to grab my wrist. “Victoria, what the hell is wrong with you today!” he growled through gritted teeth. I stepped aside and brushed off my sleeve with distaste. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” In the days that followed, Alexander naturally settled into one of the Astor family’s guest rooms. Chloe used looking after him as an excuse to hover around him all day long. The two of them went everywhere together, exchanging glances and secret smiles.

At dinner, Chloe even made a show of coyly serving food onto Alexander’s plate right in front of me. Dad couldn’t stand it. He dropped hints more than once that Alexander should move out. Each time, Chloe threw a massive fit — crying, screaming, threatening that if they kicked Alexander out while his hand wasn’t healed, it was the same as sending him to his death. Everyone expected me to be jealous. Everyone expected me to snap. But I didn’t. Every day, I followed Dad to the office, learning the core business operations, and handled several important documents with swift, decisive action. When I came home, I didn’t spare either of them a single glance. That total indifference sent Alexander into a panic. He was used to me chasing after him. He was used to me making him the center of my entire world. Now that his prey had suddenly slipped out of his control, his pathetic ego took a massive hit. On Saturday evening, I had just stepped out of the shower when there was a knock at my door. Alexander pushed it open and walked in. He was wearing a clean shirt. The bandages on his right hand were already gone, leaving behind a jagged scar. He was holding a neatly packaged dessert box. “Vicky.” He softened his voice and walked toward me. “Chloe’s been working so hard taking care of me these past few days. I spent a little extra time with her — don’t give me the silent treatment anymore.” He set the box on the table, his tone carrying the air of someone bestowing a favor. “These are the mango mille crepe cakes from your favorite place. I stood in line for two hours to get them.” This is Alexander. Every time he hurts me, he tries to make it up to me with some cheap gesture like this. In my past life, the tiniest bit of sweetness from him was enough to move me to tears. Even though I’m severely allergic to mangoes. To avoid putting a damper on his mood, I’d force myself to swallow every bite, endure the agony of my swollen throat in silence, then sneak antihistamines in the middle of the night. I stared at the beautifully wrapped box and let out a cold laugh. “Take it away.” I didn’t even glance at him. I went back to flipping through the proposal in my hands. Alexander’s expression darkened. “Victoria, how long are you going to keep this up?” His patience had run out. “I already swallowed my pride to come and smooth things over, and you’re still going to push me like this? Do you have any idea how unreasonable you’re being right now?” I finally closed the proposal and looked up at him. Staring at the face I once loved with every fiber of my being, all I felt was nausea. “Alexander, do you think all you have to do is snap your fingers, and I’ll come crawling to you like a dog wagging its tail?” I stood up, grabbed the dessert box, and walked over to the trash can. Let go. With a thud, the delicate mango mille crepe hit the bottom and turned into a pile of mush. “I’m allergic to mangoes. Did you not know that?” I watched his expression freeze, and said each word slowly. “When you bought this — was it actually to make me feel better, or just to make yourself feel good about the gesture?” Alexander’s face twisted. He stared hard at the ruined cake in the trash, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Victoria, my patience has limits!” I smiled. “Funny. Mine just hit its limit too.” I pointed at the door. “Now get out of my room. First thing tomorrow morning, pack your things and get out of the Astor family home.” Alexander went completely still. He finally realized — I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was genuinely done with him. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by something darker. Just then, Chloe’s timid voice drifted in from outside the door. “Victoria, please don’t kick Alexander out.” Chloe pushed the door open and walked in, her eyes red. “Alexander’s hand may be injured, but he’s really talented. Dad already agreed to let him intern in Astor Group’s R&D department.” I narrowed my eyes, looking at the two of them. So that’s what this is about. Couldn’t even wait a little longer before trying to sink their hands into the core of Astor Group, could they? Alexander met my gaze, his chin lifting slightly, that familiar air of cold arrogance settling back over him. “Victoria, I’ll prove to you that I’m not some deadweight who needs to leech off you.”

Alexander got exactly what he wanted — a spot in Astor Group’s R&D department. With his genuine talent and his relentless, almost obsessive drive, he carved out a solid position for himself in the department within just one month. He was desperate to prove himself to me. He pushed himself hard every single day, staying at the office late into the night. Rumors started circulating around the company — that he was the future son-in-law of the Astor family, a rare tech prodigy. Every time we crossed paths in the hallway, he’d look at me with that pointed, meaningful gaze. He thought it would make me feel threatened. That I’d come running back to him. What he didn’t know was that every move he’d made was exactly what I had planned for. Because Astor Group was about to launch the development of its “Deep Sea” AI medical chip. In my past life, it was this very project that became the spark that burned the Astor family to the ground. Alexander had used his position in the R&D department to quietly steal the core source code for “Deep Sea.” He then handed it over to a shell tech company that Chloe had secretly registered under a fake name. In the end, Astor Group didn’t just miss its window in the market — the massive R&D funds poured into the project couldn’t be recovered, and the cash flow collapsed entirely. My father had scrambled to save the company, borrowing from every direction he could, until they finally maneuvered him into a corner with no way out. This time, I was the one who made the first move. I granted the senior researchers in the R&D department access to the core code repository for “Deep Sea.” Of course, that code had been carefully… dressed up by a top-tier hacker I’d hired. On the day of the Annual Tech Summit, every seat in the venue was taken. Alexander stood at the entrance in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit. He radiated the sharp, hungry energy of someone who was absolutely certain he was about to win — nothing left of the disheveled wreck I’d seen at that casino. When he spotted me walking toward him, he stepped forward to meet me. “Vicky,” he said, lowering his voice with the condescending air of someone doing her a favor. “All you have to do is swallow your pride right now, apologize to Chloe, and promise to stop going after her. In return, I’ll hand over a core piece of technology I hold to Astor Group—free of charge—and protect Astor Group’s standing in the industry.” He thought he had Astor Group by the throat. He thought he’d finally found a way to crush me under his heel and force me to submit. I looked at him standing there, so full of himself, and almost laughed. “Alexander, are you out of your mind?” I shot back without an ounce of courtesy. His expression darkened. He reached out to grab my shoulder. “Victoria, don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be. You have no idea what you’re walking into. Don’t make me be the one to tear that pride of yours apart.” I stepped aside, avoiding his hand, and stared at him coldly. “Go ahead. I’d love to see you try.” The summit officially began. Tech companies took the stage one by one to showcase their latest innovations. When the host announced “Starlight Tech”—the name of Chloe’s shell company—a wave of murmurs rippled through the room. After all, it was a brand-new company that no one had ever heard of. But when Alexander walked onto the stage as Starlight Tech Chief Technology Officer and unveiled their AI medical chip called “Nova” the entire room went silent. Because Nova’s specifications and architecture were nearly identical to Astor Group’s “Deep Sea” chip—matching it almost point for point, and even edging it out slightly in certain processing speeds. Alexander stood beneath the spotlight, his gaze burning as he looked down at me from the stage. He was waiting for me to look shocked. Desperate. Shattered. Waiting for me to crawl to him and beg. Chloe sat nearby, the satisfaction on her face impossible to hide. The investors in the audience were buzzing, throwing offers at Starlight Tech left and right. The host announced with barely contained excitement, “Starlight Technologies’ Nova chip is, without a doubt, a landmark breakthrough in medical technology!” Thunderous applause. Alexander looked at me through the crowd, his eyes gleaming with the arrogance of a man who thought he’d already won. “Victoria,” he mouthed slowly. “I told you you’d regret this.” I ignored him. Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out a slim laptop. I stood up and walked straight toward the stage. I grabbed the microphone right out of the host’s hand. “Congratulations to Starlight Tech,” I said, my voice steady and clear, “for successfully unveiling a ticking time bomb that could blow up the entire global healthcare system.”

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I was forced into a marriage with my sworn enemy, Liam Hartwell. We’d barely stepped out of City Hall when he shoved a contract in my face, his expression ice-cold. “Don’t touch me. Don’t cross the line. Whoever falls first walks away with nothing.” I was about to have cold laugh — when a voice suddenly exploded inside my head: 【OH MY GOD SHE’S SO BEAUTIFUL. The marriage certificate literally smells so good. I want to kiss her, hold her, pull her so close she becomes part of me — Liam, keep it TOGETHER. Do NOT let her underestimate you!】 My eyes went wide. I stared at the man in front of me — perfectly tailored suit, blank expression, not a single emotion on his face. Oh, really? If he wanted to play games, fine. I’d play along — and I’d tear that fragile self-control of his apart piece by piece. He had less than a month before he’d be on his knees, eyes red, begging me to love him. “Sign it, Ruby Valentine. Let’s get one thing straight — this marriage exists for one reason: to keep both our companies’ stock prices from tanking. Don’t touch me. Don’t cross the line. Whoever falls first walks away with nothing.” In the backseat of the Rolls-Royce parked outside City Hall, Liam tossed a prenuptial agreement onto my lap without so much as glancing at me. He was wearing a perfectly fitted custom suit, and behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were as cold as ice. I looked down at the contract and laughed inwardly. Liam and I — Boston’s most notorious rivals. We’d been competing our whole lives. I ranked first in our grade, so he went and won a national math olympiad. I launched a startup in college, so he turned his family’s company into a publicly traded corporation. And even today — getting married — was only happening because a joint overseas investment project had blown up in scandal, and to stop our stock prices from free-falling, our families had decided to tie us together. I reached for the pen to sign — and then the car slammed to a sudden stop. “Ugh—” I hadn’t buckled my seatbelt. I lurched forward, completely out of control, and my forehead crashed straight into Liam’s chest. The faint scent of dark sandalwood wrapped around me instantly. I was about to snap at him — when a deafening voice exploded in my head: 【HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. She just fell into my arms. She’s so soft. She smells so good. Oh my GOD — did she do that on purpose? She’s definitely doing this on purpose. She’s trying to seduce me. Hold it together! Liam, you are a cold, powerful CEO. Do NOT blow your cover!】 I froze completely. I jerked my head up and stared at him like I’d seen a ghost. He still had that same frigid, unapproachable expression — if anything, he looked annoyed. He pushed me away with one hand and brushed off his jacket with the other. “Ruby Valentine. Rule number one: don’t touch me. And you’re already throwing yourself at me?” But inside my head, that voice was still screaming: 【HELP. The way she just looked up at me — those eyes — I want to kiss her. I want to pin her against this seat and kiss her until she can’t breathe. But I can’t. If I do that now, she’ll laugh at me forever. I have to stay cold. I have to make HER fall first.】 I swallowed hard and pointed at him in disbelief. “You — what did you just say?” Liam let out a cold scoff. “I said wipe your mouth. Don’t get drool on my custom suit.” I took a slow, deep breath. Okay. So I’d somehow developed a superpower. I could hear this insufferable man’s inner thoughts. I looked at his perfectly composed, completely fake expression — and felt a wicked little thrill rise up inside me. Playing hard to get, are we? Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep this up. Instead of snapping back at him like I normally would, I let myself sink lazily against the seat. I tugged my neckline down just slightly, letting my collarbone catch the light, and said in the sweetest voice I could manage, “honey~ That hurts, you know. Aren’t you going to rub a little for me?” Liam’s entire body visibly stiffened. 【honey?! She called me honey?! She actually just called me HONEY. Is this real life? How is this free? oh no, I’m going to have a nosebleed. 】 【CALM DOWN. Have a deep breaths. This is obviously a trap. Ruby is trying to get me to fall first so she can take my shares. Do not fall for it. Do NOT fall for it.】 He clenched his jaw so hard I could almost hear it, and forced out each word like it cost him something. “Ruby. Did you mess up with your head?” I burst out laughing, grabbed the contract, and scrawled my signature across it in one dramatic sweep. “Sure, Mr. Hartwell.” I smiled at him. “Let’s see who begs first.”

On my first night in Liam’s house, I decided to “hit “him hard. We were rivals. We’d signed a contract saying whoever fell first would lose everything. So naturally, I was going to win — by whatever means necessary. After my shower, I skipped my own pajamas entirely and dug through his closet until I found an oversized white dress shirt. I pulled it on. It just barely covered the tops of my thighs — enough to cover everything, not enough to leave much to the imagination. My legs dangled bare in the cool air. I ran a towel through my half-damp hair, pushed open the door to his study, and walked in. Liam was sitting at his desk, in the middle of an international video call. His English was flawless — sharp, cold, and completely professional. He heard me come in and turned his head. The moment his eyes landed on me, his voice cut off mid-sentence. 【Thump thump! Thump thump!】 I could practically hear his heart slamming against his ribs. 【Oh my God. Why is she dressed like that?! Those legs… that waist… wait — that’s MY shirt! She’s wearing MY shirt! She’s doing this on purpose. Is she trying to kill me tonight?!】 I was dying laughing on the inside, but I kept my face perfectly innocent. I picked up a glass of warm milk, walked over to him, and leaned down slowly. The neckline of the shirt fell open just enough. “Honey, it’s so late — you should take a break.” I let my breath brush right against his ear, warm and soft. “I brought you some milk.” Liam’s throat moved in a hard swallow. He snapped his laptop shut — cutting off the video call entirely — and his expression darkened into something dangerous. “Ruby.” His voice came out rough, like he was grinding the words between his teeth. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 【Don’t lean that close! I’m losing my mind! One more inch and I swear I won’t be able to control myself. Does she know? Has she figured me out? No — impossible. I’ve been so careful.】 I blinked at him, all wide eyes and innocence. “I just wanted to take care of you. What’s wrong?” I glanced down at the shirt and smiled. “This smells so good, by the way. I didn’t bring any pajamas, Mind if I borrow yours? You’re not being stingy, are you, Mr. Hartwell?” As I said it, I reached out and traced a slow circle on his chest with one finger. Liam’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was startlingly strong. His eyes burned dark, locked onto mine. “Take it off.” I held his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t?” 【Don’t take it off! Please, for the love of — just keep it on! AHHHH I can’t take this anymore, someone save me! How does she always know exactly how to drive me insane?!】 Watching him scream internally while keeping his face completely blank on the outside — I almost lost it. I nearly burst out laughing right then and there. I let my foot slip on purpose. I stumbled forward and fell straight into his arms. Liam’s body always told the truth, even when his mouth wouldn’t. His arms came up on instinct and caught me, pulling me firmly against him. His muscles were rigid as stone. His heart was pounding so hard I could feel it. 【She’s so soft… she smells so good… I’m done. I am completely done.】 【She’s moving again — if she does that one more time I’m going to lose all self-control! No. No, Liam. You have to hold it . If you give in now, you’ll never have the upper hand in this relationship again. Not once. Ever.】 He pushed me back — firmly, but carefully, like he was afraid of hurting me. “Stay away from me. Go back to your own room.” Then he turned and bolted like he’d seen a ghost, making a beeline straight for the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of rushing water came through the door. Cold water. I leaned against the doorframe and listened to him fall apart on the inside: 【Cold shower. I need a cold shower. Okay. Clear your mind. Think of nothing. Think of anything else… God, she has an incredible figure… ugh, this is so unfair. I’m a married man taking cold showers in my own house. oh no.】

The next morning, I slept in on purpose. By the time I came downstairs, Liam was already sitting at the dining table with his coffee. He looked absolutely dreadful, sporting heavy bags under his eyes and a stormy expression, surrounded by a palpable ‘keep your distance’ energy. Clearly, the cold shower hadn’t done much for his sleep. I walked over, pulled out the chair right next to him, sat down, and propped my chin in my hand. “Rough night, honey? Can’t sleep without me holding you right?” Liam’s coffee cup jerked in his hand. He nearly spilled it. 【Here she goes again! She’s doing it again! This is absolutely on purpose — she wants to watch me embarrass myself!】 He set the cup down and gave me a flat, cold look. “Ruby. Drop the act. I’m not interested.” Just then, the front doorbell rang. The housekeeper had barely opened the door before a voice floated in — soft, trembling, soaked in tears. “Liam!” A woman in a white dress came rushing inside, her expression fragile and pitiful. It was Liam’s cousin, Lily Ward. Lily had been attached to Liam since they were kids. She’d never bothered to hide how much she disliked me. Everyone in Boston knew Lily followed Liam around like a little tail. She didn’t even glance in my direction. She went straight to Liam, eyes red and glistening. “Liam, I heard you and Ruby got married ?How could you marry her ! You always said you couldn’t stand women like her — pushy, mean, manipulative. You said she was exactly the type you hated most!” The whole room went still. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Liam with a slow, amused smile. Oh? The type he hated most? The color drained from Liam’s face — and then it went completely, furiously dark. 【Bullsh*t! When did I ever say that?! My wife isn’t vicious — she’s fierce! She’s a queen! Who the hell do you think you are, talking about my wife like that?!】 【Oh no, oh no — what if Ruby misunderstood? What if she gets so mad she files for divorce on the spot? Lily, you idiot, are you trying to get me killed!】 I took a slow, unhurried sip of my milk and watched quietly to see how he’d handle it. Liam drew a deep breath, shot to his feet, and fixed Lily with an ice-cold stare. “Lily, first — call me Mr. Hartwell.” “Second, Ruby is my legal wife and the rightful lady of the Hartwell family. I can barely keep up with how much I love her. Dislike her? Where would that even come from?” “Third — who gave you the nerve to walk into my home and speak to my wife like that? Get out.” The rapid-fire words hit Lily like a slap. She stood there, stunned. Her eyes went wide with disbelief, tears streaming down her face. “Liam… you said you love her?” She wasn’t the only one caught off guard. I blinked too. Liam seemed to realize he’d let something slip. A flicker of panic crossed his face. 【Oh sh*t. That just came out! Does that count as me fall first? No — no, it doesn’t! I was just putting on a show for the outsider! Right, it was all an act! Ruby’s smart enough to know I didn’t mean it. She won’t take it seriously.】 Watching him scramble internally, clearly losing his mind, I nearly burst out laughing. I stood up, walked over to Liam, and slipped my arm through his. I leaned my head against his shoulder and gave Lily my best winner’s smile. “Miss Ward — did you catch that? My husband just said he loves me. So please, do us a favor and stop interrupting our time together from now on. The door’s right over there. show yourself out.” Lily trembled with rage, jabbing a finger at us. “You two… you’ll regret this!” With that, she pressed a hand over her face and ran out sobbing. Liam watched her go and let out a long, quiet breath. 【Thank God. I thought I was screwed — good thing Ruby played along. But that woman Lily is a trouble. I’m never letting her through that door again.】 He turned his head and noticed my arm was still linked through his. His body went stiff all over again. 【She’s still holding on to me. This feels so good… I don’t want her to let go…】 I wasn’t about to give him what he wanted. I pulled my arm free, smoothed out the wrinkles in my sleeve, and said coolly, “Not bad acting, Mr. Hartwell. You almost had me fooled for a second.” Liam’s expression dimmed. He let out a cold scoff. “Same to you. It was just a performance, Mrs. Hartwell. Don’t buy it.” 【She really didn’t take it seriously. When am I ever going to get to hold her without hiding it…】

A few days later, on the weekend, the Hartwell family held their monthly dinner at the old estate. As newlyweds, Liam and I were expected to attend together. The Hartwell family had deep, murky waters beneath the surface. Liam’s parents had passed away when he was young, and he had been raised entirely by his grandmother Elizabeth Hartwell. And then there is his uncle, William Hartwell. Always hungry for the CEO seat of The Hartwell Group, he has always viewed Liam as a thorn in his side. The moment we walked in, Elizabeth Hartwell’s face lit up and she waved me over warmly. “Ruby, sweetheart, come sit with me. I’ve been waiting for long long time — and you’re finally part of our family.” She took my hands in hers, beaming from ear to ear. “You two have been bickering since you were kids — I always knew it was just that classic love-hate thing. If Liam ever gives you a hard time, you come straight to me. I’ll sort him out.” I smiled and nodded sweetly. “Thank you, Grandmother Hartwell.” Nearby, Lily watched the exchange, a flash of cold resentment crossing her eyes. She was here too, standing beside William. Before long, Lily walked over carrying a steaming cup of herbal tea, a syrupy smile plastered on her face. “Mrs. Hartwell, don’t let us keep you from your tea. I made this especially for you — please have it.” I was standing close enough that the moment she brought the cup over, I caught it — a scent. Faint. Almost imperceptible. But unmistakably off. My brow furrowed sharply. I recognized that smell. It was a byproduct from a targeted drug my family’s pharmaceutical company was currently developing. The compound itself was colorless and odorless — but when heated, it released a very specific scent. And it was lethal. Only someone who had personally overseen the development of that compound would recognize the smell. Lily was trying to poison Elizabeth Hartwell — and frame me for it it. That drug only existed in my family’s lab. I had just married into this family. If Elizabeth died, William would have every reason to seize control. What a vicious, airtight setup. I watched Elizabeth smile and lift the teacup toward her lips. There was no time to think. I lunged forward and slapped the cup out of her hand. Crack. Scalding tea splattered across the floor. The fine porcelain cup shattered into pieces. Dead silence fell over the room. Elizabeth flinched, staring at me in shock. Lily screamed first. “Ruby! Have you lost your mind?! You just knocked the cup out of Grandmother Hartwell’s hands — what is wrong with you?!” William shot to his feet, his voice sharp as a blade. “How dare you! Ruby, you just stepped through the door and already you dare to cause trouble in this old estate? Someone grab her — now!” Several bodyguards closed in immediately, their expressions dark and threatening. Liam’s face went pale. He tried to push through to reach me, but William’s men blocked him hard. [Let go of me! Any of you dare touch her! Ruby is not the kind of person who cause trouble without reason — something is wrong with that tea!] Hearing him defend me without a single doubt, I felt a quiet warmth move through my chest. I fixed my eyes on Lily’s smug face and snapped, “Nobody move. There’s poison in that tea.” The room erupted. Lily went white — then immediately fired back. “That’s insane! I brewed that tea myself. How could it be poisoned?! Ruby, you’re making things up!” “Am I?” I pressed forward, step by step. “Then prove it. Lick the tea off the floor.” At that moment, one of the servants suddenly dropped to her knees, pointing at me and sobbing. “Elizabeth Hartwell — Mr. William Hartwell — I saw it myself. I watched her sneak something into the teapot. A white powder. I saw it with my own eyes!” A witness. Physical evidence. A perfectly constructed frame-up. Elizabeth already had a weak heart. The shock of it all was too much. She clutched her chest, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. “Grandmother Hartwell!” Liam’s eyes went red. He tore free from the bodyguards and rushed to catch her. The entire hall descended into chaos. I stood where I was, watching the cold smile creeping at the corner of William’s mouth — and the gleam of satisfaction in Lily’s eyes. This had stopped being a game of love and loyalty. It was a fight with blood on the line.

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Christian Farnese gripped my chin with his own hands and forced that glass of arsenical wine down my throat. He hated me for taking what was never mine to take — for taking credit for what my older sister had done, for playing him like a fool for five whole years. What he didn’t know was that the cup of arsenical wine didn’t take my life. On the contrary, it used poison to counter poison, curing the five years of mental sluggishness that had left me dull and slow. The moment my mind cleared, I left without looking back. And when he realized I was truly gone — Christian lost his mind. “Drink it.” Christian Farnese’s voice was colder than ice in the dead of winter. His long fingers locked around my chin, squeezing so hard I thought my bones might shatter. Forced to tilt my head back, I looked up at the man I had depended on for five long years. His eyes were shot through with red, swirling with undisguised disgust and the desire to kill. He poured that crimson liquid down my throat without a shred of mercy. “Urk— ghk—” I tried to spit it out. Though he clamped his hand over my mouth. “Swallow it!” he said through gritted teeth. “Charlotte Lacy — you owe me this!” It felt like I’d swallowed a red-hot blade. The burning pain exploded from my stomach and tore through every inch of my body. I convulsed, and tears fell in heavy drops onto the back of his hand. “Christian… it hurts… it hurts…” I cried out in a broken voice, the way I had so many times over the past five years, hoping to stir even a flicker of pity in him. But this time, he didn’t pull me into his arms and soothe me like he used to. He shoved me away — like he was throwing out something filthy — and I crashed hard onto the floor. “Don’t say my name. You don’t deserve to.” He stood over me, watching me writhe and curl up on the ground, his eyes as cold as if he were looking at a corpse. “You stole Margaret’s place and lived in the Farnese Palace for five years, draped in luxury.” “You sat back and watched me act like a fool — treating you, the real fool, like you were something precious.” “Charlotte Lacy, you’ve put me through hell.” The pain was too much for me to speak. All I could do was shake my head over and over. I never deceived him. I was dull and slow, and my brain was foggy — with the mind of a five-year-old child. Five years ago, my older sister Margaret Lacy had carried him — badly wounded — up from the bottom of a cliff on her back. But the effort drained her completely, and the medicine she’d tested on herself left her unconscious. My parents, desperate to latch onto the powerfu, grabbed my hand and pointed at Christian Farnese lying in the bed. “Remember,” they told me, “you’re the one who saved him.” I didn’t understand what saving someone meant. All I knew was that my sister wouldn’t wake up. When Christian came back to consciousness, my parents pushed me in front of him. He took my hands that are covered in cuts from the herbs and branches — and promised he would take care of me for the rest of his life. He brought me back to the royal capital. He dressed me in the softest silks and fed me the sweetest pastries. He taught me to write, holding my hand and guiding it stroke by stroke through “Charlotte” and “Christian.” I hated bitter things, and he never once lost patience coaxing me to drink those awful medicines that were supposed to heal my mind. I thought it would always be like this. Then, three days ago, my sister Margaret Lacy came to the door. She had woken up. She stood at the foot of the Farnese Palace steps in a plain white dress and said only two words: “Your Grace.” Christian trembled. His eyes went red as he rushed toward her. The truth came out. And I became the shameless thief who had stolen someone else’s place out of greed. “In your next life,” Christian said coldly, tossing the words over his shoulder as he walked away, “don’t ever try to lie to anyone again.” The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, cutting off the last sliver of light. I lay curled on the cold, damp floor as the pain about to tear my very soul apart. For five years, Christian had fed me those bitter medicines meant to heal my mind. Now, in this moment, they collided with the poison from the arsenical wine like a thunderbolt splitting open the sky. The fog that had clouded my thoughts for five years began — through that searing, unbearable pain — to slowly lift. Blurry, broken memories came rushing in like a tide. I finally remembered the purple Arisaema flowers at the bottom of that cliff. I remembered the dark blood my sister coughed up when she tested the medicine to save him. I remembered the greed on my parents’ faces — and the condescending charity in Christian Farnese’s eyes. The pain gradually went numb, replaced by a clarity I had never known before. I was not dead. The arsenical wine hadn’t killed me. Instead, it had done the opposite — poison fought poison, breaking through the clot that had clouded my mind for years. I, Charlotte Lacy, was no longer the silly Lottie with the mind of a five-year-old. I pressed my hands against the ice-cold wall and pulled myself to my feet, unsteady but standing. Through the gap in the woodshed door, I could see snow falling thick and heavy outside. This absurd dream that had lasted five years — I had finally woken from it.

The lock rattled. Pale daylight stung my eyes. Christian Farnese stood in the doorway, backlit, holding a candlestick in his hand. He had come to collect my body. When he saw me — leaning against the wall in the corner, watching him in silence — his pupils shrank. “You… didn’t die?” His voice was laced with disbelief, and beneath it, a tremor he could barely conceal. I looked at him calmly. I didn’t throw myself at his legs the way I used to. I didn’t cry or wail about the pain. I simply stood up straight and smoothed out the wrinkles in my disheveled skirt. “Sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace.” My voice was soft, but every word came out clear. Christian froze where he stood. He stared at me, and the chamber candlestick in his hand tilted slightly. A drop of wax fell into the snow with a faint hiss. “What did you just call me?” He stepped forward, his eyes sharp with suspicion. “You… you’re not the silly girl anymore?” “Thanks to that poisoned wine of yours, it all came back to me.” I met his gaze and didn’t look away. “I remember how my parents pushed me to take the blame. I remember how my sister was the one who tested your medicine and fell into a coma. And I remember…” I paused. A cold smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “I remember how, for five years, Your Grace kept me in this manor like a pet.” The color drained from Christian Farnese’s face. He seemed unable to reconcile the woman standing before him — clear-eyed, composed, every word deliberate — with the silly Lottie who used to trail after him begging for sweets. “If you recovered your senses long ago, why did you keep pretending?” he asked through gritted teeth, anger rekindling behind his eyes. “And if I told you I only just came to my senses — would you believe me?” I looked at him and almost laughed. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter either way.” I stepped past him and walked straight toward the door. “Stop.” He grabbed my wrist, his grip was iron-tight. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Away from the Farnese Palace.” I pulled against his hold. He didn’t let go. “Away?” A cold laugh escaped him. “You deceived me for five years. You lived in luxury for five years. And now you think you can walk out with a single word?” I stopped. I turned to look at him. “What do you want for me then? Another cup of poisoned wine?” His breath caught. The hand gripping my wrist loosened, just slightly, without him seeming to notice. “Christian Farnese, I don’t owe you anything.” I said it slowly, one word at a time. “Back then, I had the mind of a child. My parents told me to go along with it, so I did. For five years, you gave me every comfort and luxury, and I gave you everything I had in return. You made me drink those bitter medicines — even though I would I gag, I swallowed them down anyway because you said it was for my own good.” “And what did you do?” I held his gaze and forced him to see the coldness in mine. “The moment you learned the truth, you didn’t ask for any explanation. You just tried to kill me.” “The moment that the arsenical wine went down my throat, whatever was between us was even.” His lips trembled. He looked like he was trying to say something, but no words came. A flash of panic crossed his eyes — and then he buried it. “Even? It’s not that simple.” His face stayed cold. “Your sister is recovering here at the Palace. If you leave, what will she think? She would believe that I drove you out.” “That’s your problem.” I wrenched my hand free. “Christian, don’t use my sister against me anymore. If you truly care for her, make it right with her. As for me… from this day on, I want nothing to do with you or the Farneses. Nothing at all.” I walked out into the wind and snow without looking back. Behind me, Christian stood motionless for a long moment. The candlestick slipped from his hand and fell into the snow. The flame struggled against the wind — and then eventually went out.

I didn’t leave the royal capital right away. My elder sister Margaret was still in the Farnese Palace. She had been unconscious for five years, and her body was weak to the point of breaking. I had to see her. I rented a modest room at an inn in the back alley of the Farnese Palace, using the only piece of silver jewelry I had left to exchange for a few copper coins. It was something Christian Farnese had casually given me five years ago. Now it served as travel money — fitting, I suppose. On the third day, my sister’s personal maid found me in secret. “Miss Charlotte Lacy, Miss Margaret wishes to see you.” I followed the maid and slipped into the Farnese Palace through the side gate. My sister was staying in the most secluded courtyard of the Palace. Christian Farnese had brought her into the estate, but had given her a legit identity — only calling her his “benefactor.” When I pushed open the door, my sister was leaning against the bed, coughing. She was gaunt, emaciated, her face as pale as paper. Only her eyes remained the same — gentle as ever. “Charlotte…” Her eyes reddened the moment she saw me, and she struggled to sit up. I hurried forward and pressed her back down. “Margaret, don’t move.” She grabbed my hand tightly, her eyes sweeping over me from head to toe, tears streaming down her face. “Your illness… are you all better now?” I nodded. “Yes. I remember everything now.” Margaret sobbed, unable to hold back her tears. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t fallen unconscious, Mother and Father never would have put you in this situation. These five years… you’ve suffered so much.” “I didn’t suffer.” I wiped her tears away. “You’re the one who truly suffered. You nearly gave your own life to save him.” Margaret let out a bitter smile, her gaze dimming. “Saving him — I did that willingly. I just never imagined he would treat you like that…” She paused, didn’t say the word “poison” out loud. “He thought you had deceived him, and his anger got the better of him. But he’s not a bad person at heart, Charlotte. Don’t blame him.” I looked at my sister’s sickly face — still making excuses for Christian — and felt a dull ache in my chest. She loves him. She had loved him ever since the moment she carried him up from the bottom of that cliff five years ago. “I don’t blame him,” I said calmly. “Margaret, I came today to say goodbye.” Margaret froze. “You’re leaving? Where to?” “Leaving the royal capital. Southward, to Napoli.” “But—” Margaret’s voice turned anxious. “You’re a young woman, all alone, with no one to rely on. Where can you go? Stay. I’ll plead with Duke Farnese to arrange a proper place for you.” “Margaret.” I cut her off, my voice was firm. “I can’t stay.” “If I stay here, I’ll only remind Christian Farnese every day that he was once made a fool of. And it will put you in an impossible position between us.” “I’m clear-headed now. I am perfectly able bodied. I can support myself.” Margaret looked at me, reluctant and worried. She knew my nature. Once I’d made up my mind, nothing could change it. “Then… will you ever come back?” “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Maybe. Maybe not. Margaret, take care of yourself. Christian Farnese owes you. Demand what you’re owed. Don’t sell yourself short.” Margaret nodded, tears still flowing. I stood up, ready to leave. Just then, a commotion erupted from outside the door. “Let us in! We want to see Duke Farnese! We’re his father-in-law and mother-in-law!” My brow furrowed. It was my parents.

I pushed open the door and walked into the courtyard. My parents were wearing worn-out cotton coats, struggling with several of the guards. When they saw me, they froze for a moment, then broke into wide grins. “Charlotte! You wretched girl, so this is where you’ve been hiding!” My father George Lacy rushed forward, raising his hand to hit me. “You ungrateful daughter! Now that you are living a fancy life, you’ve forgotten your parents, haven’t you? Five years, and you haven’t sent a single coin back home!” I stepped aside and dodged, looking at him coldly. “This is the Farnese Palace, not a place for you to cause trouble.” My mother Tavira Lacy’s eyes darted around, and she quickly plastered on a fawning smile. “Charlotte, sweetheart, I know you resent us. But if we hadn’t set you up with Duke Farnese back then, would you have lived like this all these years?” “And now that your sister is awake too — you two sisters sharing one husband — what a blessing that would be!” “Where’s Duke Farnese? Tell him to come out and see us. We traveled all this way — the least he could do is gift us a thousand gold coins or so, right?” I looked at their greedy faces and felt sick to my stomach. Five years ago, they sold me — simple-minded as I was — to Christian Farnese as a scapegoat, all for a handful of silver coins. Now that my elder sister had woken up, they came swarming back like flies drawn to blood, hoping to squeeze every last drop of value out of the two of us. “He won’t see you,” I said coldly. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting, you ungrateful girl!” George Lacy flew into a rage. “I’m his father-in-law! He wouldn’t dare refuse me!” “Father-in-law?” A cold voice drifted in from beyond the courtyard gate. Christian Farnese strode inside, a squad of armed guards following close behind him. He was dressed in a black brocade robe today, his expression sharp and severe — commanding without even trying. George and Tavira Lacy’s legs buckled with fear, and they dropped to their knees with a thud. “We… we greet Your Grace.” Christian Farnese looked down at them, his eyes filled with contempt. “So it was you two who pushed her to deceive me all those years ago?” George Lacy trembled from head to toe, stammering, “Y-Your Grace, please understand — we were foolish then… but this girl did serve you for five years. Surely that counts for something…” “Counts for something?” Christian Farnese let out a cold laugh. “If it weren’t for your greed, why would Margaret have suffered so much? Guards — drag these two out of the royal capital and make sure they never set foot here again!” “Please, Your Grace, have mercy! Your Grace!” My parents were hauled away by the guards, wailing and shrieking. The courtyard fell into a dead silence. Christian turned his head, his gaze landing on me. “Are you satisfied?” There was a faint note of expectation in his voice — as if he was waiting for my gratitude. I looked at him calmly. “Your Grace was simply upholding the law. What does that have to do with me?” His expression darkened. “Charlotte Lacy, do you have to speak to me in that tone?” “Then how should I speak to you?” I shot back. “Like before — kneeling on the ground to thank Your Grace for the generosity?” Christian Farnese was left speechless. He drew a slow breath and forced down his anger. “Your parents have been dealt with. From now on… just stay here at Farnese Palace. Margaret needs someone to look after her. Stay and keep her company.” The words came out stiff and hollow, like he was tossing me a scrap. I laughed. “Your Grace, I think you’ve gotten something wrong.” “I came here today to say goodbye to my sister.” Christian Farnese’s pupils shrank sharply. “You’re leaving?” “Yes.” “Where?” “To the ends of the earth. It’s none of your concern.” I turned and walked toward the gate. “Stop right there!” Christian stepped forward in an instant, planting himself in my path. His chest heaved, and his eyes churned with emotions I couldn’t understand. “Charlotte, do you think the Farnese Palace is somewhere you can just come and go as you please?” “I am a Duke. Without my permission, you won’t even make it past the city gates of the royal capital!” He finally let his authority show — the full weight of a powerful noble bearing down on me. Looking at him like this, flustered and furious, it was pathetic. Slowly, I reached into my coat and pulled out the jeweled pin I had been planning to sell. It was the same one he had once placed in my hair with his own hands. I pressed the sharp end of the pin against my own throat. “Duke Farnese, your power is truly beyond measure.” “But if I truly want to die, even you can’t stop me.” The pin broke the skin. A thin line of blood trickled down my pale neck. The color drained from Christian’s face instantly. He stared at the blood on my throat, his voice trembling.

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That night, in that cramped, damp little rental room, I took Audrey like a man losing his mind—trying to use the heat of our bodies to fight off the coldness of the world outside. But before the high had even faded, her mother kicked open the already-flimsy wooden door and brought people in with her. Icy camera flashes. Cutting insults. They tore apart the last shreds of dignity we had left. “A filthy construction worker thinks he’s good enough to sleep with my daughter? You can’t even give her a roof over her head. Tomorrow, I’m marrying her off to Mr. Silas Draven!” For that three hundred thousand dollars, I pushed myself to the breaking point—and as I lay there, barely clinging to life, I watched her toss three years of our hard-earned savings onto the hospital bed and say coldly, “We’re even now.” Three years later, I came back with a fortune worth billions, ready to make her pay for what she’d done. But in a dark basement, I found her—skin and bones—and beside her, a child whose eyes looked exactly like mine… 0

August in the South felt like being sealed inside a pressure cooker with no way out. In this run-down studio apartment in the old part of the city, even the air felt thick and heavy. The ancient ceiling fan overhead let out a slow, dying creak, creak, but it couldn’t push away even a hint of the heat. I had Audrey pinned hard against that iron-frame bed—the kind that rattled violently at the slightest movement—like a desperate, caged animal, taking in every inch of warmth her body had to give. Sweat poured down my dark back and dripped onto her pale collarbones, leaving flushed, raw marks across her skin. “Kyle… easy… the bed’s going to break…” Audrey’s long legs were locked tight around my waist. Her voice was breathless—caught somewhere between moans she couldn’t hold back and sobs she was trying to swallow. Her nails sank deep into the muscles of my back, dragging red lines through my skin. I didn’t stop. I pushed harder. I hated this world. I hated this goddamn poverty. And this—raw, rough, and desperate—was the only way I knew how to claim what little power I had. On her. With her. “You’re mine… Audrey Brooks, you’re mine*!”* I bit down on her earlobe, my voice ground down to something raw, like sandpaper dragged across wood. “I’m yours… always…” She tilted her head back. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, mixing with sweat, catching the dim light like broken fragments of glass. We rolled across that narrow bed, the sounds of our bodies colliding sharp and unmistakable in the dead silence of the night. There was something destructive about it—we both knew how cold the world outside that door was, so we burned into each other with everything we had, in this tiny room that was all we had left. And then, just as we both reached the edge—minds going completely blank— BANG. One violent crash. The wooden door, which had barely been holding together to begin with, was kicked in from the outside. It slammed hard into the wall, the impact thundering through the room. The hallway’s motion-sensor light snapped on instantly. The harsh white glare cut through the doorway like a blade, slicing into the dark, heat-soaked room. “Ah—!” Audrey let out a terrified scream. She shoved me away and snatched the thin, faded blanket, yanking it around her naked body as she scrambled into the corner of the bed, shaking violently. I froze. Blood rushed to my head. On instinct, I grabbed a pair of pants and pulled them on, spinning around with eyes burning red. Standing in the doorway was Audrey’s mother. Behind her stood two thick-built families. One of them had his phone raised, the camera flash firing in rapid bursts—click, click, click—freezing our most humiliating, most wretched moment in photographs. “Put that down!” I roared, lunging forward like an enraged animal, tearing the phone out of his hand and smashing it against the floor. The crack of the screen shattering rang out sharp and clean in the silent room. SMACK. Before I could even straighten up, Audrey’s mother had already closed the distance. She wound her arm back with full force and slapped me hard across the face. She hit me with everything she had. My eardrum rang. My mouth filled with the taste of blood. “Kyle Hill, you disgusting piece of trash! Have you no shame?!” Gloria Brooks jabbed a finger in my face, her voice sharp enough to cut through the ceiling. “A filthy construction worker who can barely scrape together enough to feed himself—what gives you the right to ruin my daughter?!” I pressed my hand to my burning cheek, jaw clenched so tight it ached. I said nothing. What was there to say? I was shirtless. I reeked of sour sweat and construction dust that cheap soap couldn’t wash out. And Gloria stood there in a silk dress, a designer bag hanging from her wrist. The gap between our worlds had just become a physical thing—a slap across the face—and whatever dignity I had as a man shattered with it. “Mom! What are you doing?! Get out!” Audrey scrambled off the bed, the blanket still wrapped around her, and threw herself in front of me, screaming at her mother through her tears. “Shut your mouth! I have no daughter as shameless as you!” Gloria grabbed Audrey by the hair and dragged her toward the door. “Look at yourself! Living in this pigsty with this broke loser, you can’t even afford decent clothes! Mr. Draven has already made it clear — one word from you, and tomorrow he’ll buy you a Porsche. A luxury penthouse downtown, your pick. Are you out of your mind, putting yourself through this with a deadbeat like him?” “I won’t go! I’d rather die than marry that old man! I love Kyle!” Audrey fought back with everything she had. Her pale arms slammed against the iron bed frame, leaving a wide, dark bruise. “Love? Can love afford food on the table? Can love cover a down payment?” Gloria spun around and looked at me like I was a pile of garbage — her eyes filled with a suffocating contempt. “Kyle, I’m going to say this once. You want to marry my daughter? Fine. One month. Bring me five hundred thousand dollars for a down payment and buy an apartment downtown. If you can’t, get the hell out of her life. And if you ever touch her again, I’ll have your legs broken.” With that, she reached into her purse, pulled out a stack of photos, and hurled them at my face. The photos scattered across the floor. There I was — hauling bags of cement on a construction site, eating a five-dollar meal in the scorching sun, kneeling in front of the foreman just to beg for the wages I was owed. “Look at yourself. What could you possibly give my daughter? Do you really think you deserve her?” Gloria let out a cold laugh, then dragged a screaming, sobbing Audrey out the door. Bang. The door slammed shut. The tiny rented room fell silent again. The air still carried the faint, lingering warmth from the intimacy we’d shared, but my heart had plunged into a bottomless pit of ice. I slowly crouched down and picked up the photo of me kneeling. My fingers trembled, completely out of my control. Five hundred thousand dollars. Those words hit me like a mountain caving in on my spine — crushing me completely. 0

I didn’t sleep that night. I sat there shirtless on the cold cement floor and smoked an entire pack of cheap cigarettes. The embers glowed and faded in the dark, like my crumbling self-worth. Just before dawn, I heard the lock turn. My head snapped up. Audrey stood in the doorway. Her hair was tangled, her left cheek badly swollen, her thin T-shirt torn at the collar, revealing a bruised shoulder underneath. She had escaped. The moment she saw me, her tears broke loose. She threw herself into my arms like a wounded animal, clinging to the back of my neck with both hands. “Kyle… Kyle, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know they were following me…” She was shaking as she cried, her tears falling heavy and hot onto my shoulder. I raised my rough, callused hand, held it there in the air for a moment, then finally pulled her close. “Does it hurt?” I touched her swollen cheek, my voice so hoarse it barely sounded like mine. “No.” She shook her head hard and buried her face against my chest. “Kyle, let’s run away together. Let’s leave and go somewhere no one knows us. I don’t need a house. I just need you.” Run away together. Such a romantic, naive idea. But the reality was that my bank account held less than thirty thousand dollars — every cent Audrey and I had scraped together over three years, set aside for a down payment. In a city where even a modest apartment cost two million dollars, thirty thousand couldn’t buy you a bathroom. I looked into Audrey’s eyes, so full of hope, and felt an invisible hand squeeze my heart until I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t run away with her. I couldn’t let her spend her life hiding with me, slowly falling apart in the shadows of this city. She had once been the most radiant girl on campus. It was because of me that she had cut ties with her family and fallen into all of this. “Audrey… give me one month.” I took a deep breath, pushed down the ache rising in my chest, cupped her face in my hands, and said it slowly, word by word: “Five hundred thousand. I’ll figure it out. I promise I’ll buy us our own place downtown.” Audrey went still. She stared at me, a flicker of panic crossing her face. “Kyle, don’t do anything stupid. We can save up slowly. I’m not in a rush…” “I am!” I raised my voice, my eyes red as I held her gaze. “I’m done with the way your mother looks at me. I’m done letting you live somewhere the door won’t even close all the way. I’m a man, Audrey. I won’t let everyone look down on you because of me.” The look in my eyes scared her. She opened her mouth but said nothing. She just held me tighter and cried even harder — with a kind of despair that broke something deep inside me. 0

The next day, I went back to the construction site. The sun was merciless, like it wanted to peel the skin right off you. I was wearing a hard hat, weaving through a jungle of steel and concrete. I’m a civil engineer — sounds like a respectable white-collar job, but on the job site, I was basically a glorified errand boy. “Kyle, this rebar shipment has the wrong grade!” “Kyle, the inspector is holding up the paperwork again!” “Kyle, Mr. Smith wants you in his office!” I spun like a top, never stopping. Sweat dripped into my eyes and burned like hell. But I didn’t even have time to wipe my face. Only one thought was running through my head: make money. At noon, I knocked on the project manager’s office door. A wave of cold air hit me the moment I stepped inside, enough to make me shiver. Mr. Smith was kicked back in his leather executive chair, smoking an expensive cigarette, eyes fixed on the stock charts on his screen. “Kyle.” He didn’t look up. “What do you want?” I swallowed hard and kept my voice low. “Mr. Smith, I’d like to request a six-month advance on my salary.” His fingers stopped on the keyboard. He turned and looked me up and down, then let out a laugh. “Six months in advance? Kyle, you think this company runs a charity? You make $8,000 a month — that’s $48,000. What are you putting up as collateral?” “I… I can work overtime. I can do the work of two people. Mr. Smith, I really need this money, please.” I was sweating through everything I had on, practically ready to get down on my knees. Mr. Smith flicked his ash and gave me a look full of contempt. “Kyle, having ambition is a fine thing in a young man. But you’ve got to crawl before you can walk. You think $500,000 is easy to come by? Don’t think I don’t know about the pressure Audrey’s mother is putting on you. Let me give you some advice — don’t bite off more than you can chew. That girl Audrey is a beautiful woman. She’s wasting her time with you. Mr. Draven drives a Range Rover. How do you even think you compare?” His words were like a dull blade, carving into me piece by piece. I don’t know how I made it out of that office. The heat outside swallowed me whole again. I stood on an unfinished floor dozens of stories up and stared down at the city below me. Traffic flowed endlessly through the streets below, and towers of glass and steel stretched as far as the eye could see. This city held endless wealth and endless opportunity — but not a single inch of it belonged to me, Kyle. After work, I dragged my lead-heavy legs back to our rental apartment. Audrey had already made dinner. Nothing fancy. She was wearing that old faded T-shirt, her hair loosely pulled back, a bandage stuck to her forehead. “You’re home! come on” She smiled at me — sweet and warm — but I could see the exhaustion hiding behind her eyes. I sat down, picked up my fork, and dug in. The food wasn’t great, but I ate every bite like it was a feast. “Kyle, I went to look at an apartment today.” Audrey spoke up suddenly, her voice soft and careful. My fork froze mid-air. She pulled a crumpled flyer from her pocket and spread it flat on the table. “Look — it’s out in the west suburbs. Yeah, it’s old and rough, thirty years old, top floor, no elevator. But the price is low — only $600,000! The down payment is just $180,000. We already have $30,000 saved. If I borrow a little from some friends and you pull together a bit more, we can make it work!” Her eyes were shining. She pointed at the blurry floor plan on the flyer, excitedly laying out our future. “It’s only about 430 square feet, I know — but we could enclose the balcony to get more space, paint the walls that soft gray you like, find a nice second-hand couch on eBay…” I watched her go on and on, my vision slowly blurring. A run-down low-rise in the suburbs. This was the bottom of the bottom — what she had settled for, just to make up for my failures. She could have been sipping afternoon tea in a luxury downtown high-rise. Instead, she was ready to go beg and borrow from people, all for a 430-square-foot apartment. “Stop.” I cut her off. “Kyle…” Audrey froze. “I said stop!” I shoved back from the table and stood up, grabbed the flyer, tore it apart, and threw the pieces to the floor. “I’d rather sell my blood, work myself into the ground — but I will never let you live in a dump like that. $500,000, not a cent less. I will buy us a place right in the downtown of this city!” Audrey stared at the scraps of paper scattered across the floor, her eyes turning red. She didn’t argue. She just quietly crouched down and picked up the pieces one by one, her voice breaking: “Kyle, I just don’t want you wearing yourself out… I really don’t care where we live…” “But I do!” I screamed at her like a wild animal. “I care what people think of you! I care what your mom says about me behind her back! Do you get that?!” Audrey went silent. Her tears hit the floor, one drop after another. I watched her shoulders tremble and wanted to slap myself. I slammed the door and walked out into the thick black night. 0

When you have nowhere left to turn, desperation turns you into a monster. I reached out to a contractor I knew from the construction site — a guy named Marcus Stone. Marcus didn’t do legitimate work. He only handles off-the-books dirty work. Things like illegal demolition runs in condemned neighborhoods in the dead of night, or blasting in underground mines with zero safety measures. “Five hundred thousand?” Marcus blew out a long puff of smoke in the hazy pool hall and squinted at me. “Kyle, you’ve got some nerve. A job worth five hundred grand is the kind you pay for with your life.” “As long as I get the money, my life doesn’t matter.” I stared him down, my eyes shot through with red. Marcus smiled, showing a row of yellowed teeth. “Alright, I can see you’re the real deal. There’s an abandoned chemical plant on the south side of town that needs to be torn down. Inside, there are a few large tanks still holding residual toxic gas. Legitimate demolition companies won’t touch it — too risky, not enough profit. The owner is putting up eight hundred thousand, with a three-day deadline. You take a few guys in, cut those tanks open. When it’s done, I’ll give you five hundred thousand.” I knew exactly what that meant. No protective suits. No gas masks. Just a cutting machine, going at iron tanks that once held deadly chemicals. One wrong spark. One explosion. One breath too many of toxic gas — and there’d be nothing left of you to bury. “Fine. I’ll take it.” I didn’t hesitate for a second. For those three days, I told Audrey the construction site was on a tight deadline — strict on-site management, no going home. I took three men who had nothing to lose, and we crept into that chemical plant like rats, into the sharp, stinging smell that hit you the moment you stepped inside. The temperature was over forty degrees. The air was thick with a suffocating yellowish-green haze. Sparks flew from the cutting machine with every pass. Each cut felt like dancing on the edge of Death’s blade. On the first day, one of the workers inhaled too much toxic gas and collapsed inside one of the tanks, foaming at the mouth. We dragged him out. He was already gone. Marcus tossed his family twenty thousand dollars and called it settled. On the second day, my lungs felt like they were on fire. Every breath tasted like blood. My vision started blurring, and my hands shook so badly I could barely hold the cutting machine. But there was only one thought in my head: five hundred thousand dollars. With five hundred thousand, I could throw the down payment right in Gloria’s face. I could let Audrey walk down the aisle with her head held high. On the third night, the last tank finally came crashing down. I collapsed onto the ground, covered in oil and toxic sludge, and stared up at the black sky. Then I started laughing — loud, uncontrollable laughter. I’d made it out alive. I’d earned the five hundred thousand. Marcus tossed a heavy black plastic bag in front of me. “Kyle, you’ve got the luck of the devil. Money’s in there. Count it.” I didn’t count it. I clutched that bag like it was my life. I dragged my wrecked body back to our apartment that same night. When I pushed the door open, Audrey was slumped over the table, fast asleep. There was a bowl of oatmeal on the table, long gone cold. The noise woke her up with a jolt. The moment she saw me, she screamed. I was covered head to toe in black grime. My clothes were in shreds. My face was slashed with cuts. My eyes were so red they looked like they could bleed. My whole body reeked of chemicals that turned your stomach. “Kyle! What happened to you?! Don’t scare me like this!” Audrey rushed at me and threw her arms around me, not caring about the filth covering every inch of my body. I grinned, teeth showing, and shoved the black plastic bag into her arms. “Audrey… I got it… five hundred thousand… we’ve got the down payment…” The moment those words left my mouth, everything went dark. I blacked out.

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Three years of marriage, and Declan Shaw never once looked at me like I was a woman. I danced around a pole in a maid costume right in front of him. All he said was, “Don’t catch a cold.” I told myself he simply had no feelings for me—and handed him the divorce papers. He didn’t even glance up. He just picked up the pen and signed without a moment’s hesitation. But the instant the ink hit the page, I saw it. Golden words—glowing and bold—scrolling across the air above his head: [She’s actually going through with it?!] [This pen is terrible. Can it just run out of ink already?] [Is it too late for me to fake passing out?] My name is Daisy Robinson. Twenty-six years old. Married for three years. Getting divorced today. Declan Shaw and I were sitting across from each other in the VIP conference room of a law firm downtown. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Typhoon Mitag was tearing through the city. Rain lashed the glass, wind howled through the streets—like something was trying to swallow the whole city whole. The atmosphere inside was quieter than the eye of the storm. “Mr. Shaw, Mrs. Robinson—this is the final version of the divorce agreement. If there are no objections, please sign on the last page.” The attorney slid a copy in front of each of us. I looked down at those few thin sheets of paper. My fingertips were cold. Three years ago, I married Declan. When the Robinson family and Shaw Group announced the union, all of Hollywood said I was punching well above my weight. Declan was the head of Shaw Group out of Los Angeles—ruthless, unreadable, never letting a flicker of emotion cross his face. He was the kind of man no one dared to dream of. And I was just the overlooked eldest daughter of the Robinson family. My mother died when I was young. My father eventually brought home his new wife, Veronica Croft, and her daughter. After that, I became invisible in my own home. The only person I truly cared about was my younger brother, Leo Robinson. Three years ago, Leo got caught up in a hit-and-run. The evidence was overwhelming. He was looking at ten years or more behind bars. I had nowhere to turn—and my father pushed me right in front of Declan. “Daisy,” he said, “you marry into Shaw Group, and Leo walks free.” I didn’t have a choice. But on my wedding day, I’d let myself hope, just a little. Declan stepped in when people kept pushing drinks on me. He reached down and straightened my dress. When Veronica tried to remind me to show her proper respect as an elder, he cut her off with a single cold look and said, “She’s Mrs. Shaw now. I’d like to see anyone try to give her a hard time?” I thought—at the very least—he must have had some feelings for me. Then came our wedding night. His phone rang. He answered it, didn’t even change out of his suit, and walked out the door. At five in the morning, he came back reeking of cold air and something metallic, like blood. I was still sitting on the bed waiting for him. I looked up and asked, “Where did you go? Are you hurt?” He glanced at me—just once—and said two words: “Something came up.” Two words. Like a bucket of ice water poured over every foolish hope I’d let myself hold. For the next three years, we were the most perfectly civil strangers who ever shared a last name. We lived under the same roof but slept in separate rooms. We went back to the family estate together for holidays and played the part of a happy couple in front of his family. When people asked about me, he’d say flatly, “She’s fine.” But in private—he never held me. Never kissed me. Never explained anything. Never crossed the line. Once, I looked at him with tears burning in my eyes and asked, “Declan, do you hate me?” He didn’t look up from the papers in his hand. “Stop overthinking it.” After that, I stopped asking. Some people are just stone cold. You can press your hands against them until you’re numb and they’ll never warm up. I was done trying. A week ago, I left the divorce agreement on his desk. Declan stared at it for a long time. Long enough that I started to think he might actually ask me why. But in the end, he just picked up a pen and said one word: “Fine.” Three years of marriage. And that’s all it was worth in the end—one word. Now the attorney set the pen down in front of him. Declan picked it up, expression blank, like he’d just wrapped up some unremarkable business acquisition. He uncapped it, gripped the barrel between steady, long-fingered hands, and signed his name in one clean, unhesitating stroke. I watched him finish. Took a slow breath. Reached for my own pen. The moment the tip was about to touch the paper— Golden words burst into the air above Declan’s head, bold and glowing: [She’s actually signing?!] My hand jerked. The pen dragged a long black line across the page. I froze. More words came scrolling through: [This pen is terrible—can it just run out of ink already?] [Is it too late for me to fake passing out?] [Declan. Pull it together. You’re the ex-husband here. Don’t make it weird.] I stared wide-eyed at the top of his head. I figured I must be hallucinating — I hadn’t slept well these past few days, not with the divorce weighing on me. I closed my eyes. Three seconds later, I opened them. The floating messages above Declan’s head were still there, scrolling even faster than before. 【Why does she keep staring at me?】 【Does she regret it?】 【No way. The way she grabbed that pen was more decisive than me signing billion-dollar contracts.】 【Is she really not even a little sad? Three years — you’d still get attached to a dog after three years!】 Chapter 2### “Mrs. Robinson?” The lawyer looked puzzled when I still hadn’t signed. I snapped back to the present and glanced at Declan. He sat perfectly composed — suit crisp, jaw tight, eyes cold and unreadable. But the floating messages above his head were already crawling all the way up to the ceiling. 【Don’t sign it.】 【Please. Don’t sign it.】 【Who gets divorced during a typhoon? That’s terrible luck.】 【If she just puts the pen down, I’ll hand over every share I own. All of it.】 I fought to keep the corners of my mouth from twitching and deliberately slowed my hand, writing “Daisy Robinson” in careful, deliberate strokes. The moment the last stroke landed, the messages above Declan’s head erupted into a wall of gray static. Like a system crash. The lawyer collected the agreement and smiled. “Well, the paperwork is all signed. However, there’s a red typhoon warning in effect outside, and the entire building has been locked down. I’m afraid neither of you will be able to leave for now — we’ll need to ask you to spend the night in our firm’s lounge. We apologize for the inconvenience.” I nodded. “That’s fine.” Declan gave a composed nod as well. “Understood.” The next second, massive red text erupted above his head: 【THANK GOD!!!】 【Bless this typhoon. Bless the universe.】 【Mitag, you’re my hero. I love you!!!】 I nearly burst out laughing right there. The lawyer led us up to the VIP lounge on the top floor. The room was spacious, with a large leather sofa. Just one sofa. The lawyer gave an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Robinson — we have more guests staying over than expected tonight, and this is the only lounge we have left.” Declan said coolly, “It’s fine.” The door clicked shut, leaving the two of us alone. The silence turned awkward immediately. I walked to the window and watched the wind howl outside. “Once the typhoon passes, I’ll move out.” I spoke to the window, keeping my voice steady. Declan’s low, flat voice came from behind me. “Do whatever you want.” Those words again. I’d heard them countless times over the past three years. I said I wanted to visit my family. Do whatever you want. I said I wouldn’t be home for dinner. Do whatever you want. I said I wanted a divorce. Do whatever you want. He never tried to stop me. Never lost his composure. Never let a single thing I did get under his skin. But right at that moment, I used to think he would never hold me back, never lose control, never show any emotion because of me. But at that exact moment, a line of black text suddenly appeared above his head. 【Whatever the hell you want.】 I turned around and looked at him. He was sitting on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine, not even sparing me a glance. But the words above his head kept coming. 【She’s really leaving?】 【Where’s she even going? Does she think she can go back to that mess of a Robinson family? Veronica and her mother would eat her alive.】 【No, I can’t ask where she’s moving.】 【If I ask, it’ll look like I care.】 【I do care.】 【But she wants a divorce. What right do I even have to say anything?】 I stared at those words, and something indescribable twisted in my chest. For three years, I had always thought he was cold and indifferent, that I meant nothing to him. Turns out, there was a whole storm raging inside his head. I walked over and stood in front of him, looking down at him. “I don’t have much stuff. I’ll go back tomorrow, pack it up — should be done in half a day.” Declan’s fingers paused for just a moment as he turned a page, his voice as flat as ever. “Do you need me to send someone to help?” He said it like he was asking if I needed a housekeeping  service. But the words above his head were going crazy. 【Yes.】 【I need to.】 【Why send someone else — I’ll help her myself.】 【No, wait. I can’t help. If I help, she’ll be gone even faster.】 【Can I get someone to change the locks on the house? Or just burn all her luggage?】 I looked up at him and deliberately drew out my words. “No need. I’ll manage on my own. After all, we’re basically exes now — better to keep things at a distance.” Declan’s eyes darkened slightly. “Suit yourself.” 【Nothing about this is fine.】 【Not even a little.】 【Who said I want to be your ex?】 I moved to the other end of the couch and pulled out my phone, deliberately opening a dating site right in front of him. I wasn’t actually planning to use it — I just wanted to see how long he could keep up the act. “Oh, by the way,” I said, keeping my tone light, “now that we’re getting divorced, I should probably start thinking about my next chapter. Mr. Shaw, you’ve seen a lot of the world — do you think blind dates are worth a shot?” The air went completely still. Declan snapped the magazine shut and looked up. Those dark eyes locked onto me. His expression didn’t change. But the feed above his head exploded — exclamation marks flooding in from every direction. 【A blind date?】 【She just signed the divorce papers ten minutes ago and she’s already thinking about dating?】 【Am I dead to her? Does she think I no longer exist?】 【Which guy dares to go on a blind date with her? I’ll ruin him before the night is over.】 Chapter 3### I pretended not to notice, scrolling through my phone at my own unhurried pace. “This one looks nice,” I murmured to myself. “He’s a doctor. Gentle, refined.” Declan put the magazine down. His voice was ice-cold: “Daisy.” “Hmm?” I looked up. “We signed the divorce agreement, but we haven’t filed at City Hall yet. Legally, you’re still my wife.” He stared at me, every word deliberate. “Going on dates while still legally married makes you the at-fault party.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that legal advice, Mr. Shaw?” His tone stayed level. “I’m just reminding you. Watch how this looks.” The feed: 【Because I’ll lose my mind.】 【Because I can’t stand the thought of you smiling at another man.】 【Because I haven’t learned how to lose you yet.】 【Please. Don’t look at anyone else.】 The last line appeared slowly. Like it was rising from somewhere deep inside him, surfacing bit by bit — carrying a barely perceptible trace of desperation. I found I couldn’t smile anymore. I set my phone down and looked at him steadily. “Declan, do you not want the divorce?” He went rigid. The feed went blank. Three full seconds. Then a flood of scrambled text. 【She asked.】 【Say you don’t want it.】 【Say something, Declan — what’s your mouth for, just breathing?】 【But… if I say it, will she even believe me? She’ll just think I feel sorry for her.】 Declan’s throat shifted as he swallowed. He finally spoke. “If you’ve already made your decision, I respect it.” The feed: 【Pathetic.】 【Declan, you’re absolutely pathetic.】 I lowered my gaze. That small, fragile softness that had just begun to stir inside me was pushed back down — hard — by those words. I respect that. Always, always I respect that. But what I’d always wanted from him was never his dignity or his respect. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” I got up, walked to the far end of the couch, and lay down with my back to him. The couch was wide, but two people was still a tight fit. Declan didn’t move. After a long while, I heard him get up. He took off his suit jacket and draped it quietly over me. The jacket carried his scent — that cool, crisp cedar-and-fir fragrance — wrapping around me all at once. I kept my eyes shut and stayed still. A faint sigh drifted down from above. The feed flickered with a dim glow in the dark: 【I’m sorry.】 【But Dais, I really don’t know how to love you.】 By the next morning, the typhoon had finally passed. We left the law office and drove back to the Shaw Group estate. The moment I walked through the door, I started packing. There wasn’t much to pack, honestly. Three years, and I’d always lived like someone who might leave at any moment — never letting myself treat this place as home. Declan stood in the bedroom doorway, watching as I folded my clothes into the suitcase, one piece at a time. He didn’t say anything. But the feed was nearly swallowing the whole room. 【She’s really leaving.】 【Three years — why does she have so little?】 【All the jewelry I bought her, all the haute couture — why isn’t she taking any of it?】 【Has she never once thought of this place as home?】 That last line made my hands stop for just a moment. Right. Because I’d never once felt loved here. How could I have called it home? I pulled the zipper closed on my suitcase. The sound tore through the quiet bedroom like a blade. “All done.” I turned and looked at him. Declan’s expression shifted — a subtle darkness crossing his face. His lips moved. In the end, he only said: “I’ll have the driver take you.” The feed: 【Don’t go.】 【Please.】 Chapter 4### I took a slow breath and pulled a black card from the drawer. I held it out to him. “Here — this is yours. I never touched the money.” Declan looked at the card. His expression sank, slowly. “Why?” “It’s not mine.” His voice went slightly cold. “It’s marital property. You have every right to use it.” I smiled faintly. “Declan, we’ve been married three years and we barely even felt like a real couple. Doesn’t talking about marital property feel a little ridiculous?” He went silent. But the feed kept coming, line after line. 【She doesn’t even want the money.】 【She really left herself no way back at all.】 【For these three years, just how insecure have I made her feel?】 Declan didn’t take the card. Instead, he reached out and grabbed my wrist. His palm was burning hot — so hot I flinched. “Keep it.” His voice was low and rough. “Even after the divorce, you’re still a daughter of the Robinson family. Don’t put yourself through hardship.” [Feed:] 【Just take it.】 【At least don’t let me worry about you suffering.】 I looked at him, about to pull free, when I suddenly felt something rough and uneven against my skin. I grabbed his hand and flipped it over. There was a deep, old scar carved across his palm. And it didn’t stop there — the scar stretched up his wrist and disappeared beneath his sleeve. I froze. “What is this?” Declan’s expression shifted instantly. He yanked his hand back. “Nothing. I cut myself by accident a long time ago.” He moved his hand behind his back. I kept staring at him. His feed erupted in blinding red. 【Don’t look.】 【She can’t know.】 【That knife wound from the underground market three years ago — it went too deep. What if it scares her?】 【If she finds out I nearly died in that underground parking garage trying to get Leo’s dashcam back, what would she think?】 【She’d feel guilty.】 【I don’t want her guilt.】 My mind went blank. Something detonated inside my skull. Three years ago? The underground market? Leo’s dashcam? My whole body was shaking. I stared at Declan. “You’re lying. On our wedding night three years ago — where did you really go?” Declan’s face was stone cold. “I told you. I went to handle something for the company.” “You lied to me!” I lunged forward and grabbed his collar, tearing it open. Buttons snapped off and scattered across the floor. Declan didn’t move. Across his broad chest was a massive scar — stretching from his left shoulder all the way down to his right side. It looked like something monstrous had been carved into him. Grotesque. Terrifying. I gasped, and tears burst from my eyes before I could stop them. How brutal had that blow been, to leave a scar like this? “This is from handling company business?” My voice shook. The tears wouldn’t stop. Declan panicked. He fumbled forward, desperate to wipe my tears away — but couldn’t bring himself to touch me. The red feed flashed wildly: 【Don’t cry.】 【Daisy, don’t cry.】 【I can’t stand it when you cry.】 【I never should have let her see.】 I shoved his hand away, sobbing. “Declan, how much have you been hiding from me? Leo’s case back then — was it you who—” “No.” He cut me off, sharp and final. “He got lucky. The police found new evidence on their own.” [Feed:] 【It was me.】 【Ryder Sinclair paid people on the underground market to destroy that dashcam footage.】 【I had no choice but to go get it back myself.】 【That knife nearly hit my spine. But I got it.】 【Not that it matters. I don’t want her staying with me out of gratitude.】

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To scrape together the money for my sister’s treatment, I became Vivian Grant’s contracted lover for three years. For three years, I came whenever she called and threw away every last shred of dignity. I thought that as long as I was obedient enough and knew my place, I would eventually warm her heart. Until that charity gala, when I heard her chatting with her best friend, her voice full of contempt. “Liam Reed?” “He’s just a little toy I keep around with money, nothing more. He’s very obedient. Give him some cash and he’ll go away.” “The Sullivan family can help me secure the land in South Bay. Next month, I’ll get engaged to Ethan Sullivan, and when the time comes, I’ll kick Liam out.” At that moment, the last bit of love in my heart went out completely. In front of a room full of elites, I smashed the million-dollar watch she had just bought for me back into her arms, then walked into the pouring rain without looking back. A year later, I became a rising star in the business world, holding a project worth hundreds of billions, with admirers lined up all the way to France. But that once-arrogant heiress of New York’s elite knelt outside my door on a stormy night, soaked to the bone, crying in a hoarse voice. “Liam, I was wrong. Please, look back at me…” I looked at her through the floor-to-ceiling window and calmly instructed my assistant, “Call the police. Someone is harassing me.”

Late autumn in New York was cold enough to cut into the bones. But the charity gala on the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel was filled with elegant gowns and polished guests, warm as spring. I sat in the corner of the lounge, looking down at the balance on my phone. Mia’s medical funds were almost drained again. Vivian brought me here tonight, saying she was going to bid on something for me as a gift for our third anniversary. To be honest, I had been looking forward to it. It had been three years, and she had never brought me to a public event before. This was the first time. Footsteps and teasing laughter came from outside the door. “Vivian, that was a huge move. Thirty million for a limited-edition Patek Philippe, and you didn’t even blink.” It was Vivian’s best friend, Zoe Carter. “Ethan likes it, so what’s thirty million?” Vivian’s voice was lazy and careless. My heart sank hard. Ethan? That heir of the Sullivan family who had just come back from overseas? “But what about the one in your lounge? He’s been with you for three years. Even if he hasn’t contributed much, he’s at least put in the effort, right?” Zoe lowered her voice, her tone teasing. Vivian let out a soft laugh. That laugh, separated from me by a thin door, stabbed into my heart like a knife. “Liam Reed?” Her tone was indifferent, as if she were talking about some irrelevant object. “He’s just a pastime I can dismiss with money. His sister’s life is still in my hands. He wouldn’t dare make trouble.” “True. The Sullivan family has the core technology for the South Bay project, and you’re getting engaged next month, so it’s time to clean up those messy relationships.” I sat on the sofa, my whole body ice-cold. It felt like I had fallen into an ice cellar. Engaged? Three days ago, she had held me in her arms and murmured in my ear, saying that after Mia’s surgery, we would go to Iceland to see the northern lights. So it had all been a lie. I thought time had turned into love, but it was only charity after she weighed the benefits and losses. The door was pushed open. Vivian walked in wearing a couture gown, holding the velvet box with the luxury watch inside. When she saw my dark expression, she frowned slightly. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” She walked over and instinctively reached out to touch my face. I turned my head and avoided her hand. Her hand froze in midair, and her eyes darkened. “Why are you throwing a tantrum?” Her tone carried a trace of impatience. I stood up and looked straight into her eyes. “You’re getting engaged?” I heard my own voice, calm in a terrifying way. Vivian froze for a moment. Then she tossed the box onto the coffee table and crossed her arms. “You heard?” She showed no panic at being exposed and instead looked perfectly entitled. “The Sullivan family can help me secure the land in South Bay. A marriage alliance with them benefits the company.” She looked at me like she was soothing a clueless subordinate. “Be good. This watch is yours, and your monthly allowance will double from now on. Aside from status, you won’t be missing anything.” I looked at the watch gleaming with a metallic shine. Suddenly, I found it unbearably disgusting. “Vivian Grant,” I called her name. “Do you think my spine is made of money?” She sneered. “What else would it be? Have you paid your sister’s dialysis fee for tomorrow? Without me, you two would have starved to death on the streets long ago.” She was certain I could not leave her. Because I was poor, and because I had a sick little sister dragging me down. I took a deep breath. Then I picked up the velvet box on the table. A mocking curve appeared at the corner of Vivian’s mouth, as if she thought I had finally compromised. The next second. I threw the box back into her arms. Bang! The box hit her arm, bounced to the floor, and the watch slid out, rolling deep into the carpet. Vivian’s expression changed instantly. She glared at me in disbelief. “Liam Reed! Are you insane?” “Yes, I’m insane.” I looked at her coldly. “These three years, just consider them my wishful thinking. We’re done.” After I said that, I turned without hesitation, pushed the door open, and walked into the cold wind of the hallway.

“Stop!” Vivian shouted behind me. I did not stop. The elevator at the end of the hallway happened to open, and I strode in, pressing the close button. The elevator doors slowly shut, cutting off Vivian’s furious face. When I walked out of the hotel entrance, cold wind and fine rain hit me head-on. I wrapped my thin coat tighter around myself and stepped into the rain. My phone vibrated crazily in my pocket. They were all calls from Vivian. I turned it off, pulled out the SIM card, and threw it into a trash can by the road. I returned to the large apartment in the city center. Everywhere there was filled with Vivian’s presence. The walk-in closet was full of custom suits she had bought for me, and the shelves were lined with expensive skincare products in matching sets. I found an old suitcase. I only packed a few of my old clothes, several professional books, and a broken laptop I had used for five years. I did not touch a single one of those glittering luxury watches or designer bags. I neatly placed the black card, car keys, and access card Vivian had given me on the shoe cabinet in the entryway. Then I took one last look at the “golden cage” I had lived in for three years. With a bang, I closed the door. Dragging my suitcase, I took the last night bus. I arrived in the city’s poorest neighborhood. This place was the gutter of this glamorous city. The alleys were cramped, sewage covered the ground, and the air was filled with the sour stench of cheap takeout mixed with drains. I knocked on the door of a rental agency with a red light on. “What’s the cheapest room you have?” The landlady looked me up and down, then spat out a sunflower seed shell. “Top floor, no AC, shared bathroom, six hundred a month, three months up front plus one month deposit.” “Fine.” I paid the money and got the key. The room was only ten square meters. There was a wooden plank bed and a wobbly wardrobe. The wall paint was peeling, and there was a yellow water stain on the ceiling. I sat on the hard bed board, listening to the snoring and a baby’s crying from next door. It was very noisy. But I felt freer than I ever had before. Early the next morning. I went to the hospital. Mia Reed lay on the hospital bed, her face as pale as a sheet of paper. When she saw me, she forced out a smile. “Liam, you didn’t come see me yesterday.” “Yesterday… I had overtime.” I walked over and tucked the blanket around her. “Liam, where’s Vivian? She hasn’t come in a long time.” Mia asked innocently. My heart stung. “Mia,” I looked into her eyes and said seriously, “don’t mention her again from now on. We have nothing to do with her anymore.” Mia froze. Although she was sick, she was not stupid. She looked at my tightly furrowed brows and seemed to understand something. “Liam, is it because of me…” Her eyes reddened. “Am I dragging you down?” “Nonsense.” I held her ice-cold hand. “You’re my only family in this world. As long as you’re okay, I’m not afraid of anything.” After I left the ward, the head nurse at the nurses’ station stopped me. “Liam, the money in your sister’s account is only enough for three more days. Her targeted medication afterward costs fifty thousand per injection, so you need to find a way quickly.” “I understand. Thank you.” I walked out of the hospital and stood on the busy street. The sunlight was harsh. I touched the jade pendant hanging around my neck. It was the only thing my father had left me. I gritted my teeth, turned around, and walked into a pawnshop on the corner. “Final sale, one hundred thousand.” The owner studied it with a magnifying glass for a long time before naming a price. “This is high-grade glass jade!” I said in a suppressed voice. “Young man, the market isn’t good right now. The quality of this pendant is average, so that’s the price. Take it or leave it.” The owner looked like he knew he had me cornered. I closed my eyes. Mia’s pale face flashed through my mind. “Fine. I’ll pawn it.” With the one hundred thousand in hand, I immediately deposited it into the hospital account. That one hundred thousand would only last half a month. I had to find a job as soon as possible.

I thought that with my degree from a top university, finding a job would not be hard. But I underestimated Vivian’s methods. In one week, I sent out over a hundred resumes. Either they disappeared without a reply, or after I passed the interview, I would get a call the next day saying I was not a good fit. Then I went to a fairly decent internet company. HR handed my resume directly back to me. “Mr. Reed, if you offended someone you shouldn’t have, then don’t try to make it in New York. Go back to your hometown.” I clenched the resume, my knuckles turning white. Vivian Grant. She was trying to force me into a dead end and make me go back to beg her. I stood under the blazing sun, looking at the Grant Group building in the distance. It towered into the clouds, arrogant and untouchable. “Vivian Grant, don’t even dream of it,” I said through gritted teeth, one word at a time. If I could not get into a big company, then I would go to a small one. I would go somewhere that did not require connections, did not care about education, and only looked at performance. In the end, I joined a newly established real estate agency. The base salary was fifteen hundred, and the commission depended entirely on my own hustle. The office had no AC, the electric scooter was old, and every day I handed out flyers on the street under heat close to forty degrees Celsius. “Hi, are you looking to buy a house? There’s a new development in the South District, right by good schools!” I stopped a passing middle-aged woman and handed her a thick flyer. The woman waved me away in disgust, as if shooing a fly. “Go away, go away. It’s too hot!” The flyers scattered all over the ground. I crouched down and picked them up one by one. Sweat flowed into my eyes, stinging sharply. My white shirt was already soaked through with sweat and stuck tightly to my back. But I had no time to complain. After half a month, I was tanned and had lost ten pounds. But I had also closed three small deals and earned over ten thousand in commission. On payday, I bought a roast chicken and brought it to the hospital to eat with Mia. Mia ate until her mouth was greasy, smiling happily. Looking at her, I felt everything was worth it. Just when I thought life was finally getting back on track. Trouble came to my door. That afternoon, the manager suddenly called me into his office. “Liam, there’s a big client tonight who specifically wants to see that villa at Nanshan Manor. Come with me.” The manager rubbed his hands together, his face full of excitement. “Nanshan Manor? That’s a mansion worth over a hundred million!” “Exactly! If this deal closes, the commission alone will be over a million! You’re lucky, kid!” A faint unease rose in my heart. How could such a huge deal fall into the lap of a newcomer like me? But a million in commission was too tempting. With that money, Mia’s surgery and follow-up recovery fees would all be covered. I pushed down my doubts and followed the manager to Nanshan Manor. The moment I pushed open the door to the luxury private room. All the blood in my body seemed to freeze. On the leather sofa. Vivian sat with her legs crossed, holding a glass of red wine and looking at me with a half-smile. Ethan sat beside her in a custom suit, his face full of superiority. There were also several rich heirs from their circle in the room, all staring at me like they were waiting for a good show. “Ms. Grant, I brought him.” The manager nodded and bowed as he hurried over. I turned to leave. “Stop.” Vivian spoke coldly. Two bodyguards immediately blocked the door. I turned back and looked at her coldly. “Ms. Grant, if you want to buy a house, then look at the house. If not, I still need to get off work.” Ethan burst out laughing. “Vivian, this is the man you said had such a backbone? How did he end up like this?” He looked me up and down, taking in my cheap work clothes and sun-roughened skin, his eyes full of contempt. “I heard you’re selling houses? Fine.” Ethan took a stack of cash from his bag and threw it onto the table. “Drink these three bottles of liquor on the table, and I’ll sign the contract for this hundred-million-dollar villa with you.” On the table sat three bottles of strong liquor. The manager kept desperately winking at me from the side. “Liam, drink it! Ms. Grant and Mr. Sullivan are giving you respect!” I looked at the three bottles of liquor. I was allergic to alcohol, and if I drank that much, I could die. Vivian looked at me, her gaze carrying the charity of someone high above me. “Liam, as long as you drink it, this deal will be yours. Not only that, I’ll pay for all of your sister’s follow-up treatment overseas.” She was certain I would compromise. Just like every time over the past three years when she had used Mia to threaten me. I walked to the table. Ethan’s smile grew even more smug. “A loser really is a loser. For money, he doesn’t even care about his life.” I picked up a bottle of liquor. I twisted off the cap. Then. I flipped my wrist. Splash! The entire bottle of liquor landed precisely on Ethan’s custom suit worth hundreds of thousands.

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Only right before I died did I see the screen full of floating comments: 【I’m dying laughing. This male supporting character is so stupid. He spent five years as a blood bank and still thought it was love.】 【Once he dies, Vivian and Julian will inherit his fortune and officially announce their marriage.】 【A pure ATM plus a walking blood bank. This tool man is seriously miserable.】 I looked at Vivian, who was holding her first love in her arms while letting me bleed to death, and I finally understood. I was living inside a tragic romance novel, and I was the stupidest tool man in it. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the car accident. Vivian was holding Julian, who had only scraped a little skin, and fussing over him, then she turned around and was about to scold me for driving carelessly. I ignored her and called my lawyer directly. “Freeze all of Vivian’s assets, pull funding from every project, and also get back every cent I’ve spent on her over the past five years, principal and interest included.” The comments exploded. 【Holy shit! He awakened!!】 【The living devil is online! This trash couple is done for!】

The violent crash tore through the night sky. My body rolled with the car, and my forehead slammed hard against the window as warm liquid slid down my cheek and blurred my vision. “Ethan! Ethan, how are you?!” Vivian’s panicked voice echoed inside the cramped car. She kicked open the twisted car door and desperately shielded Julian, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, in her arms before helping him out with extreme care. From beginning to end, she never once looked at me, trapped in the back seat with both legs pinned tightly beneath the seat. “Vivian…” I struggled to open my mouth, my voice as faint as a thread. “Save me…” Vivian’s footsteps paused. She turned back, her cold gaze sweeping over my mangled, bloody legs as her brows drew tight. “Ethan, Julian has a clotting disorder, and he scraped his skin, so the bleeding has to be stopped immediately.” “You’re just stuck, and you won’t die, so be good and wait in the car for the ambulance.” After she said that, she supported Julian and rushed toward a taxi she had stopped by the roadside without looking back. They sped away in a cloud of dust. I watched the taillights disappear into the rainy night, and my heart felt like it had been crushed by an invisible hand. Just then, a blinding red light suddenly flashed before my eyes. Immediately after, lines of strange floating comments abruptly appeared in midair. 【Sigh, the tool-man male lead is about to be abused again.】 【He doesn’t know that he’s just the “walking blood bank” for the Oscar-winning actress’s true love. Vivian is with him just so Julian can get blood transfusions anytime.】 【Once both his legs are crippled, Vivian will naturally bring up breaking up, then turn around and get together with Julian. The two of them will use the male lead’s money and resources to become the model couple of the industry.】 【Poor thing. Before his mom died, she gave him all her shares, but he dumped everything onto that trash woman and ended up being drained of blood alive.】 I stared hard at those red words, my mind completely blank. A walking blood bank? An ATM? Drained of blood alive? It turned out that my years of devotion had only been an elaborate pig-butchering scam. Agony, mixed with extreme rage, spread wildly through every inch of my body. I bit through my lip and tasted the strong tang of blood. I was not dead. I, Ethan Hale, would never die just like this at the hands of a trash woman. Using the last bit of strength in my entire body, I pulled my phone from my bag and called my private lawyer. “Attorney Miller.” “Cancel all resources and financial support under my name for Vivian’s studio.” “Yes, all of it.” “Do not leave her a single cent.”

The smell of disinfectant in the hospital was sharp. I lay in the hospital bed with my right leg in a thick cast. The doctor said that if I had been brought in half an hour later, my leg would have been completely ruined. The door to the ward was shoved open. Julian rushed in wearing an oversized hospital gown, his eyes red. “Ethan, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.” He rushed to my bedside, his voice choked. “If Vivian hadn’t been trying to protect me, she wouldn’t have left you alone…” “Please don’t blame her. If you have to blame someone, blame me.” Behind him stood Vivian, her face dark. She looked at my casted leg, and there was not the slightest trace of pain in her eyes, only impatience. “Ethan, are you done making a scene?” “Julian was so worried about you that he came running over before his own wound was even bandaged, so who are you trying to impress with that cold face?” “I’ve already had the company release a statement saying the accident was an accident and won’t affect Julian’s reputation, so cooperate and repost it later.” I looked at the two of them playing off each other and almost laughed out loud. 【I’m dying laughing. A cat crying over a mouse. Such fake mercy.】 【This woman is still thinking about burying the trending topic. She has no idea the male lead has already pulled the rug out from under her.】 【Julian is such a drama queen. His acting is more convincing than Vivian’s, and she’s the Oscar winner.】 I raised my hand, avoided Julian’s outstretched hand, picked up the wet wipe by the bed, and wiped my fingers one by one as if they had been stained with something dirty. “There’s no need to apologize.” “After all, I don’t plan to forgive you.” Julian’s crying froze, and he looked at me in disbelief. Vivian frowned, her tone thick with warning. “Ethan, Julian didn’t do it on purpose, so don’t be so unreasonable when you already have the upper hand.” “He has been in poor health since childhood, so it’s only right for you to give way to him.” It was this same speech again. Ever since we were kids, whenever Julian and I had any conflict, everyone told me to give way to him. Because he had a clotting disorder, and because he was the weak one who needed care. And I was the soil that provided nutrients for him, so I deserved to be sacrificed. I threw the used wet wipe accurately into the trash can and looked up at her coldly. “Vivian, have you forgotten that I am your fiancé?” “At the scene of the accident, you abandoned your fiancé whose legs were pinned down and went to take care of a man who had only scraped his skin.” “Now you even want me to cooperate with your statement and cover up your shamelessness?” “Who the hell do you think you are?” Vivian’s face instantly turned livid. She stared hard at me as if she no longer recognized me. In the past, as long as she frowned, Ethan would rush over in distress to ask if she was okay. He would never look at her with eyes that seemed to be looking at garbage. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you?” She gritted her teeth and stepped closer. “Do you know that because you threw a tantrum and froze my cards, several projects at my studio have all been shut down?” “Call the bank immediately and unfreeze them. Otherwise, our engagement ceremony will be postponed indefinitely.” She thought that if she threatened me with the engagement, I would compromise like I used to. I looked at that self-righteous face and suddenly felt utterly sick. “There’s no need to postpone it.” I pressed the call button beside the bed. “Vivian, we’re breaking off the engagement.”

The ward fell into deathly silence. Vivian froze in place, a trace of panic flashing through her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by contempt. “Ethan, what kind of hard-to-get game are you playing now?” “Breaking off the engagement? Can you bear to do that?” “Everyone in New York high society knows that you, Ethan Hale, love me so much that you don’t even want your dignity.” “Now you’re using the engagement to threaten me? Do you think I’ll believe you?” Julian quickly spoke too, timidly saying, “Ethan, don’t be angry with Vivian.” “I know you’re mad because of me, so at worst… at worst, I’ll never see Vivian again.” As he spoke, his eyes reddened again, as if he had suffered some huge injustice. Vivian immediately stood in front of him in distress and glared at me. “Ethan, look at what you’ve become.” “Julian thinks of you in everything, but you make things difficult for him at every turn.” “I’m telling you, if you don’t unfreeze the cards and apologize to Julian today, then I won’t marry you.” I coldly watched this man and woman perform, and not a single ripple stirred in my heart. There was only disgust. “Nurse.” I looked at the nurse who had just pushed the door open and come in. “These two are disturbing my rest, so please ask them to leave.” “Also, notify security that from now on, without my permission, these two are not allowed to step into my ward.” The nurse looked at me, then at Vivian’s livid face, and politely issued the order to leave. “You two, the patient needs quiet rest, so please leave.” Vivian’s face completely lost its composure. She pointed at me, her finger trembling slightly. “Fine. Ethan, don’t regret this.” “When you come crying to beg me, I’ll see how you clean up this mess.” After saying that, she dragged Julian with her and slammed the door in a rage as she left. The ward finally quieted down. I took out my phone and called my assistant, Josh. “Josh, help me prepare a press conference, and set it for tomorrow afternoon.” “Also, bring me the recording pen from my safe.” There were some surprises saved in there. Since we were going to tear things apart, then we might as well tear them apart completely.

The next afternoon. The tags “Ethan Hale Seriously Injured in Car Accident” and “Vivian Abandons Fiancé” stayed on the trending list all night. Vivian’s PR team desperately tried to suppress the trending topics, but my team spent ten times the money and pinned the heat firmly at the top. At the press conference, camera flashes fell like snow, dazzling enough to make people dizzy. I sat in a wheelchair with my right leg in a cast, my face pale but my eyes firm. Vivian actually came too. She was probably afraid I would say something reckless in front of the media, so she had rushed over specifically to “control the scene.” She walked to my side and tried to hold my hand like usual, but I coldly avoided her. Her hand froze in midair, and a trace of darkness flashed through her eyes, but facing the cameras, she still forced out an affectionate smile. “Thank you for your concern, friends from the media. Ethan’s body is still recovering, so I hope everyone will not disturb him too much.” “As for last night’s accident, it was only a small incident. The situation was urgent at the time, and I simply sent Julian, who was more seriously injured, to seek medical treatment first. I did not abandon Ethan.” “My relationship with Ethan is very stable, and the engagement ceremony will proceed as scheduled.” She spoke in such a dignified way, as if she really were the best woman in the world. I looked at her hypocritical face, picked up the microphone in front of me, and gave a soft laugh. “Miss Vivian, it’s truly a shame your acting never won you an Oscar.” The entire room erupted. Every camera instantly turned toward me. Vivian’s face changed, and she lowered her voice to warn me. “Ethan, are you crazy?” I ignored her, swept my gaze over the reporters below the stage, and slowly spoke. “I invited everyone here today because I want to announce something.” “I, Ethan Hale, am officially breaking off my engagement with Miss Vivian Shaw starting today.” The flashes went wild. “Mr. Hale, is the engagement being broken off because of last night’s car accident?” “Is it because Miss Shaw showed favoritism toward Mr. Julian Grant?” Vivian panicked completely. She shot to her feet and tried to snatch my microphone. “Ethan is just throwing a tantrum with me. Please don’t misunderstand…” “Throwing a tantrum?” I sneered, took the recording pen from my assistant, and pressed the play button. “Vivian, are you really going to marry that man?” It was Julian’s voice, carrying a hint of coquettishness. “Be good. If I don’t get close to him, how can I take his money to promote you? How can I make him willingly become your walking blood bank?” “When I’ve squeezed his money and usefulness dry, I’ll break off the engagement with him and be with you openly and gloriously.” “By then, all of the Hale family’s business will be ours.” It was Vivian’s calm and cruel voice. The recording was very long, filled with countless moments of them coveting my property, plotting against my body, and mocking me as a “tool man.” Every sentence was like a sharp blade, cutting their hypocritical masks to pieces. When the recording finished, the whole venue fell into deathly silence. Every camera was aimed at Vivian’s deathly pale face. I looked at her, the corner of my mouth curving slightly. “Miss Shaw, are you satisfied with this recording?” “Oh, right, I forgot to tell you.” “The company shares my mom left me automatically took effect the day I came of age.” “In other words, the villa you live in now, the sports car you drive, and even the studio you’re so proud of were all bought for you with my money.” “Now, I don’t want to play anymore.” “So please pack your things and get the hell out of my world.”

As soon as I finished speaking, the reporters at the scene were like sharks smelling blood, and the room instantly boiled over. Countless microphones were shoved into Vivian’s face. “Miss Shaw, is the content of the recording true?” “Did you approach Mr. Hale only for his money and blood?” “What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Grant? Were you conspiring to commit fraud?” Vivian was blocked in place, her face changing colors more dramatically than a paint palette. She opened her mouth, but she could not say a single word. 【Hahahaha, public humiliation scene. So satisfying, too satisfying.】 【Look at that woman’s expression. She looks like she swallowed a fly.】 【The male lead is awesome. This counterattack is fast, accurate, and ruthless.】 I watched the floating comments, turned my wheelchair, and left the venue under the protection of bodyguards. The clamor and curses behind me became the background music of my victory. That night, tags like #VivianShawGetOutOfHollywood, #JulianGrantDramaQueen, and #FeelBadForEthanHale took turns dominating the top of the trending list. All of Vivian’s endorsements, film and television resources, and variety shows terminated their contracts with her overnight. The “serious award-winning actress” persona she had worked so hard to build over the years collapsed completely. What awaited her would be astronomical breach-of-contract penalties worth hundreds of millions. Julian was not doing much better. The lead roles in several major IP projects he had originally been in talks for were all recast. Netizens even dug up his old history of bullying classmates and demanded that he get out of Hollywood. Just when I thought I could finally catch my breath for a moment, my phone rang. Caller ID: Father. Richard Hale. I looked at the name flashing on the screen, and a hint of coldness flashed through my eyes. When I answered the call, Richard’s roar, suppressed with anger, immediately came from the other end. “Ethan, are you done making trouble?” “Release a statement immediately saying that recording was forged. Otherwise, I’ll freeze all your cards.” I leaned against the headboard and casually pinched my fingers. “Oh? So you still know I’m your son?” “I thought your only son was Julian.” The other end of the phone went silent. After a long while, he finally spoke coldly. “Don’t forget that Hale blood runs through your veins, and everything you enjoy was given to you by the Hale family.” “I had you get together with Vivian for the company’s interests, and it was also for your own good.” “Now that you’ve made such a mess, do you know how much the company is going to lose?” I laughed, and my throat tightened from it. “The company’s interests? For my own good?” “Dad, put your hand on your heart and tell me, did you really have me get together with Vivian for the company?” “Wasn’t it because Julian needed a walking blood bank who would come whenever he called, and Vivian was the most suitable ‘blood bag keeper’ you had chosen?” On the other end of the phone, there was deathly silence. Just when I thought he had nothing to say, he suddenly let out a sinister laugh. “Ethan, do you think you’ve won?” “Do you think that once you get rid of Vivian, you can get rid of your fate?” “I’m telling you, it’s not that easy.” “Julian is my son, and as long as I’m alive, you must serve him.” “Back then, your mother was willing to donate bone marrow to Julian for my sake. Why can’t you learn from her?” All the blood in my body froze instantly at that moment. My mom… didn’t she die in an accident?

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My father is the Don of Marchetti family and tonight, seven of his men walked out of my mother’s bedroom. He’s standing in the doorway with his new whore on his arm. They both stare at my mother lying motionless on the bed. And he smiles like she’s the entertainment. “You used to look down on Bianca, Isabella. And look at you now, the great Moretti princess, not so high and mighty anymore.” His voice makes me want to throw up. “I think it’s time you let me make Bianca my second wife.” My mother doesn’t scream or cry. She forces herself up off the bed, every movement shaking. This time, she pulls the diamond pendant off her neck—the one he gave her the night he proposed—and drops it into the fire. The next morning, my father throws a wedding. Bigger than the one he gave my mother fifteen years ago. Three hundred guests from every family on the East Coast, all here to watch my father make his mistress official. I’m wearing a black dress. Nobody notices. Halfway through dinner, the lights flicker. The big screen behind the head table turns on by itself. It’s my mother. Naked. On her own bed. Seven men taking turns. The video is high-definition. Someone wanted us to see every detail. I lunge for the screen, trying to block it with my own body. “What the fuck is this?! Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!” The guests are laughing. Some of them are filming. Some of them are pointing at the men in the video and naming them out loud, like it’s a party game. My father’s face goes purple. “You like showing off so much, Isabella?” He’s on his feet, champagne flute shaking in his hand. “Fine. I’ll give the whole family a turn.” He snaps his fingers. “Take her to the Room.” I scream and throw myself at him. The housekeeper catches me from behind, one hand clamps over my mouth, and drags me out of the ballroom while my mother is hauled in the opposite direction. The guests’ laughter follows me into the hallway. “Once a woman’s been in the Room—passed around to every man in the family—she doesn’t walk right again. Wears diapers the rest of her life. Might as well bury her.” “Generous of the Don, though. Sharing his own wife with the boys.” “A Moretti princess. Soft hands, soft skin. Bet she moans prettier than the club girls…” The housekeeper drops me in my bedroom and locks the door from the outside. I sit on the floor in my black dress and ask her, “What’s the Room?” She whispers, through the door, “The worst thing the Marchetti family does to a woman, Cleo.” … I don’t sleep. By noon the next day, they let me see my mom. The smell hits me before I’m through the doorway. Blood. Sweat. Strangers. My mom is on the bed. Eyes open. Not blinking. Under the thin white nightgown they put on her, every inch of her skin is bruised. “Mama—” My voice cracks. My fingers hover over her arm; I can’t bring myself to touch her. I turn to the door to scream for the family doctor— The door swings open first. My father walks in with Bianca on his arm, both of them in fresh silk, both of them perfumed. Bianca makes a tiny gagging sound and covers her nose. My father looks at my mother the way you look at a stain on the carpet. “Isabella. Drop the act.” I freeze. “I gave the men orders. Nobody actually touched you.” He’s bored. “Stop performing.” I open my mouth and want to shout—she’s bruised, she’s bleeding! But my mother’s hand closes around my wrist to stop me, and she reaches under her pillow. It’s divorce papers. Already signed. “Dante.” Her voice is a husk of itself. “Sign them. I don’t want the money. I don’t want the house. I don’t want the name.” “I just want Cleo.” My father’s eyebrow lifts like he’s heard a child threaten to run away from home. “Don’t be stupid, Bella. Your father’s dead. Your brother’s dead. Your mother’s been dead for ten years. Where the hell are you gonna go?” I stare at him. So he remembers. He remembers that Uncle Rafael took six bullets covering his retreat in the northern territory war. That Rafael’s body is still buried under a warehouse floor in Buffalo because we never got it back. He remembers that my grandfather—the old Don Moretti—put a gun to his own temple in front of the Commission to force them to back my father up. He remembers kneeling in front of the Moretti family crest the day he married my mother, swearing on his blood and his bones: I, Dante Marchetti, will protect Isabella Moretti until the day I die. One wife. One love. No exceptions. But “until the day I die” is a long time. Three years into the marriage, he came home from a job up north with Bianca Costa. Said she’d saved his life. Said my mother needed to be understanding. When my mother grew tulips in the garden, Bianca said the pollen made her sneeze. My father had every flower torn up by the roots. When my mother got pregnant with my baby brother, Bianca cried and said that something terrible would happen to her if my mother kept the baby. That night, my father held my mother down himself and forced the pills down her throat. She bled through her dress and onto the rug. She screamed for six hours. While he was three rooms away, listening to Bianca sing. I bet he heard every second of it. But He didn’t move. That was the night I understood: my father—the man who used to lift me onto his shoulders to watch the fireworks— was already dead.

Like he’s afraid she’ll say the word divorce again, my father snatches the papers out of her hand and throws them in the fireplace. The paper curls. Blackens. Gone in three seconds. He sighs—soft, the way he used to sigh when I was little and skinned my knee—and reaches out to smooth my mother’s hair. She turns her face away. His hand hangs in the air for a long, ugly second. Then he yanks it back and his jaw locks. “Tonight,” he says, voice flat, “I’m taking Bianca to the Commission’s annual gala. Give her your Bulgari set.” “No.” I’m already in front of the bed before my mother can speak. “That’s my grandma’s. She left it to my mom. Nobody touches it.” Bianca’s eyes well up on cue. The tears actually slide down her cheeks; I have to give her credit, she’s good. “Dante, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m not worthy of the Moretti family heirlooms.” She presses a hand to her mouth. “It’s okay. Just let them laugh at me. I’m used to it…” My father’s face goes to stone. “Isabella. This is how you raised our daughter? Mouthing off, no manners, no respect for Bianca?” His voice drops. “Maybe Cleo should move in with Bianca. Learn some respect.” My mother’s face goes white. She pushes herself upright on the bed and puts herself between me and him. “Take the jewelry. Take all of it. Don’t touch my daughter.” Bianca’s mouth twitches. For half a second, I see the smile she’s trying to hide. Then she wipes her tears and says, very softly, “Dante, I’m scared I’ll embarrass you tonight. I’m just a club girl. I don’t know how to act around those people.” She squeezes his arm. “What if Isabella came with us? As my maid? Just so I don’t make a fool of myself.” The Don’s wife. A maid. To his mistress. In front of every family on the East Coast. My father doesn’t even hesitate. “Done.” … At sunset, they throw a grey servant’s dress through the door. I watch my mother peel off her silk slip and pull the cheap dress on. There’s not a clean inch of skin on her back. I’m crying before I know I’ve started. She wipes my face with her thumb. Then she pulls something out from under her pillow and presses it into my palm. A small gold cross on a thin chain. “Cleo, baby. Listen to me.” Her eyes are clear for the first time in months. “I’m not going to be here much longer. I need you to listen.” “Mama, don’t—” “Listen. When I’m gone, you take this cross. You get on a plane. You fly to Los Angeles. You go to Luca Moretti.” I know the name. The Don of the West Coast. The man who spoiled me rotten when I was little, who treated me like his own kid—until he and my father started hating each other for reasons nobody would explain, and he stopped coming around. “Show him this cross. He’ll know what it means.” Her voice catches. “He’ll keep you safe. He’ll do it for me.” “I’m sorry I won’t see you grow up, baby.” I close my fist around the cross so hard the edges cut my palm. I know exactly how worn down she is. She fought. God, she fought. When Bianca first arrived, my mother put her in an apartment across town—a nice one, paid for, just not in our house. The next morning, my father called it jealousy. He made her walk barefoot down Fifth Avenue in a silk robe to bring Bianca home herself. Six months ago, after the miscarriage, my mother came at Bianca with a kitchen knife. My father dragged her to the cemetery, stood her in front of my grandmother’s grave, and told her if she touched Bianca again, he’d dig the body up and dump it in the East River himself. Three days ago, somebody leaked Bianca’s old videos from her stripper days to half the families on the coast. My father decided my mother did it. That same night, he had her drugged and locked in the basement with a dozen men who’d broken family code, and he let them have her until morning. After that night, she stopped fighting. I lean my forehead against her bony shoulder. I can feel every rib through her cheap dress, and I choke on a sob. “Mama.”

Bianca isn’t done with us. At the gala, she makes a show of it. Snaps her fingers at my mother to refill her champagne. Drops a napkin and waits, smiling, until my mother kneels on the marble to pick it up. Every woman in that room watches the Moretti princess serve drinks to a stripper Dante picked up in a back-alley club in Atlantic City. When Bianca’s had enough sport with the crowd, she walks us out to the gardens behind the venue. There’s a pond. No witnesses. She tugs off one of her diamond earrings and flicks it into the water. “Go get it.” My mother doesn’t move. Bianca’s face goes ugly so fast I almost laugh. “Isabella. You’re my maid tonight. I tell you to do something, you do it. Go get it.” My mother looks at her for a long, quiet second. “A ring won’t change what you are, Bianca. You’re a mistress. You’ll die a mistress.” Bianca’s hand flies up to slap her. I get there first. I shove Bianca hard in the chest—she stumbles back two steps in her heels—and I plant myself in front of my mother. “Get the fuck away from her.” “You little bitch—” She swings on me. My mother yanks me into her arms a half-second before her nails connect; instead of my cheek, Bianca’s nails rake down my mother’s throat. Four red lines well up instantly. And for one beat—one single beat—my mother’s eyes flash with something I haven’t seen in three years. The old Moretti fire. The look she had in the photos from before she married him. Bianca actually flinches back. Then she remembers where she is, and she sneers. “You’re all bark, Isabella. No bite.” She turns to me. “Fine. Don’t get it. But Cleo’s marriage contract is sitting on Dante’s desk right now, and I get a say. Want me to recommend the Falcone man? Or the Romano heir?” The Falcone man is forty-three and on his fourth wife. The Romano heir is nineteen and beat a maid to death last summer for serving cold coffee. His father paid it off. My mother’s hand jerks against my shoulder. “I’ll get the earring,” she whispers. The water is freezing. My mother walks down the stone steps into the pond fully dressed. Her lips are blue inside of two minutes. “Mama!” Bianca slaps me. Hard. Then again, backhand. “Shut your mouth, you spoiled little bitch—” “What the hell is going on?” Dante’s voice. Bianca reacts in a heartbeat. She grabs my hand—drives my palm into her own chest—and throws herself backwards over the low railing into the pond. The splash is theatrical. Then Dante is in the water before his jacket is off, and he hauls Bianca out cradled against his chest like she’s made of glass. My mother is twenty feet away, drowning. A waiter from the gala—not family, not blood, just a kid trying to keep his job—is the one who jumps in and drags her to the edge. Bianca clings to Dante’s lapels and shakes. “I’m sorry, Dante, I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have come tonight—” She sees me and screams, hides her face against his shoulder. “Don’t let her hit me again, please, please—” “I didn’t touch you!” I’m shaking. My cheek is on fire from her slap. “She made my mother get in the water for an earring! She called me a bitch! She’s been hitting me, look at my face, look—” Dante looks at my mother instead. Bruised, half-drowned, lips blue, barely breathing on the wet stones. For one second, something flickers behind his eyes. Something that almost looks like he still loves her. Then Bianca sobs against him. “Dante, please—I know she hates me. Fine. But to drag Cleo into it? To make a child lie for her?” She lifts her tear-streaked face. “I admit it. I slapped Cleo. Because she called me a bitch. She said I spread my legs for every man and insulted my dead mother.” Bianca’s voice climbs. “I was nobody before you, Dante, but I have pride. I’d rather drown than be treated like that—” She lunges for the railing like she’s going to throw herself in again. “Enough.” Dante’s voice is ice. “Take her to the basement. Twenty with the belt.” “No!” My mother throws herself in front of me before the guards drag me. “She’s mine. I raised her. Whatever she did—do it to me.” Dante looks down at her. Cold as hell. “Forty.” … The basement is cold. Concrete floor. One bare bulb swinging from the ceiling. My mother kneels on the floor. By the tenth, I’m sobbing so hard I can’t breathe. By the twentieth, my mom can’t even hold her head up. And I taste blood where I’ve bitten through my lip. I’m on my knees outside, screaming at the men, screaming at Dante, screaming at God— “Please. Please! She’s my MOM! Please stop!” By the end, she coughs up blood and collapses face-down on the concrete. I get her back to her room. I pay the family doctor double to come at midnight. Until dawn, I can’t hold it anymore and pass out beside her. I wake up again because someone is in the room. Dante. He’s kneeling beside the bed. He lifts the back of her nightgown with hands that are actually shaking, and a tear lands on her shoulder blade. He cleans the wounds himself. He whispers to her, voice broken. “Bella. Bella, why do you have to be so stubborn.” “Bianca’s a good girl. She saved my life. You don’t know what she did for me. You don’t know.” “Just let her have a baby. Once she gives me a baby, I’ll send her away. You and me and Cleo. Back to how we were. Like before.” I shut my eyes quietly. There is no “how we were.”

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