Category: English

To vet my wife’s competence, my father had arranged for me to conduct a surprise audit of the company she managed. I genuinely thought it would be a formality, a quiet walk-through. Instead, the moment I stepped onto the floor, I saw a baby-faced college guy staring, mesmerized, at the paper shredder. “Whoa, this thing is so cool,” he mumbled. He reached for a stack of documents on a nearby desk, looking ready to feed them into the machine. A colleague next to him went white as a ghost and lunged forward. “My God, my little prince, I thought you were playing video games in the CEO’s office! Why are you out here?” The guy just grinned. “Heh, I got thirsty.” As he spoke, his hand holding a full cup of water slipped, splashing the entire contents directly onto the main power switch. The entire office floor went black. A collective wail of despair rose from the workstations. I grabbed the nearest intern and quietly demanded to know who in God’s name had hired that imbecile. The intern immediately clamped a finger to his lips. “Lower your voice, man. He’s, like, our CEO Sloane Albright’s partner. Word is, this whole company is technically his.” “You must be new. You’ll get used to it. He usually just plays games in the CEO’s office and doesn’t bother us.” My temples began to throb. If he was the CEO’s partner, then what the hell was I? I pulled out my phone and called my father. “Dad, you can cancel the inspection. Tell Sloane Albright to come back here and bring the divorce papers.” 1 My father sent me to the branch to evaluate Sloane Albright. He said it was a routine check, nothing to stress about, just a chance to get an early feel for the operations. I assumed it was purely for show. I checked in with the front desk as a corporate reviewer from Headquarters, and the assistant politely swiped me through the secured access. The second I entered the main office, I saw him. He was dressed in an almost aggressively casual white button-down, a little too young for the setting, and was crouched in front of a heavy-duty shredder with an expression of pure, childlike fascination. “Wow, this machine is so cool. Can it eat anything?” He reached over and casually picked up a file from a nearby desk. I caught a glimpse of the cover: “MERGER AGREEMENT,” stamped in bright red. Without a second thought, he started to push the thick document toward the hungry teeth of the shredder. A bespectacled colleague next to him instantly turned a sickly shade of gray. He flew across the cubicle and nearly body-checked the younger man, snatching the contract out of his hands just in time. “My sweet Lord, weren’t you supposed to be in the office playing your games?” His voice was thin with terror. “Why did you come out? We need this contract for the presentation this afternoon!” The younger man was mildly annoyed by the collision, but didn’t seem angry. He just grinned, shaking an empty, disposable cup. “Got bored with the game. Got thirsty.” The colleague visibly sagged with relief, clutching the document to his chest as if it were his own beating heart. He lowered his voice, the tone almost a plea. “Then please, please, go get your water. I’m begging you. Go back and drink it in the office, okay? Doesn’t the CEO’s suite have its own dispenser?” The guy rubbed his nose. “The water in there tastes weird. I want the water out here.” He walked off toward the communal kitchen, completely ignoring the colleague’s near-sobbing expression. My temples were hammering. I caught the eye of a young intern standing near me. “Who is he?” The intern glanced at me, then quickly checked the guy’s retreating back, his eyes full of fear. He put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Keep it down, man.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s our CEO Sloane Albright’s partner. Name’s Brody Jennings.” My heart seized. Sloane’s recent abnormal behavior—the late nights, the sudden secretiveness—it all clicked into a terrifying explanation. The intern continued, his face etched with a maturity beyond his years. “I heard the company technically belongs to him, so he’s the real boss here.” “You just started, right? You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, an expression of crushing corporate exhaustion. “He usually stays locked in the CEO’s private office, playing games or watching TV. He doesn’t interact with us.” “Sloane must be away at a meeting today, and he got bored enough to come out and wander.” The buzzing in my head intensified. He was the CEO’s partner. So what am I? The intern saw the look on my face and asked with concern, “You alright, man? You look sick.” I shook my head, managing a tight smile. “No, I’m fine. Just… surprised.” “A company can have someone like that here. I’m truly… enlightened.” The intern shrugged bitterly. “Just live with it. He never actually does anything. We just keep our heads down and pray he gets tired and goes back inside.” I didn’t reply. Never actually does anything? If that contract had been shredded, a multi-million-dollar deal would have collapsed. Who would have taken the fall for that loss? I watched Brody Jennings emerge from the kitchen, humming a tune. I pulled out my phone, intending to call my father, but paused. No. Walking away now would be letting Sloane off too easily. My father sent me to evaluate her competence. Now I knew that her competence, and her character, were catastrophic failures. I needed to see just how far this branch had descended under her management. I straightened my jacket and walked back to the front desk. “Hi. I’m Cameron Montgomery, the Project Reviewer from Headquarters.” “Please set me up with a temporary workspace, preferably somewhere quiet. And this review is internal. I don’t want Ms. Albright to know I was here.” The receptionist nodded respectfully. I took a corner seat in the main office and fixed my gaze on Brody Jennings. He was now holding his cup of water and curiously inspecting the fire alarm on the wall, looking like he was debating whether or not to press the red button. 2 Sloane was out for the morning. Brody must have finally maxed out on video games. He drifted out of the executive suite again, a storm cloud of corporate disruption. He strolled the floor, idly poking at one colleague’s half-finished design sketch, then tapping on another’s keyboard, generating a stream of garbled code. Everyone held their breath when he approached, unable to speak, rushing to check their work for damage the moment he passed. He ambled to the water cooler, grabbed a paper cup, and filled it up. Whether from clumsiness or intention, his hand twitched. The entire cup of water, full to the brim, arced through the air and splashed precisely onto the wall next to the dispenser. That wall housed the main power switch for the entire floor. There was a loud sizzle and a spray of blue-white sparks. The overhead fluorescent lights died instantly. Every single computer monitor in the office went black, a silent, sickening wave of darkness. A few seconds later, the office exploded in a chorus of agony and curses of pure despair. “My code! All morning on this code! I didn’t save!” “My design draft! The client is waiting! The last, crucial step!” “My quarterly report! Due at two! I’m ruined, we’re all ruined!” The Head of Tech, Luke, sprinted out of his office. He saw the wreckage—and Brody Jennings standing there, looking perfectly innocent—and his face turned to stone. Luke’s lips tightened, his fist clenched and unclenched, and he finally swallowed whatever he was about to say. Brody, however, spoke first, his voice dripping with annoyance. “What’s the matter with this place?” “This switch is so cheap. It broke just from a little water. Why is everything in this company such low quality?” His talent for immediate and total blame deflection was truly astonishing. The Administrative Manager rushed over. He looked at the smoking power switch, then at Brody. Immediately, he adopted an overly obsequious smile. “Brody, are you hurt? Did that frighten you?” “It’s not your fault at all. It must be old wiring. We’ll fix it right away. I’m calling someone to replace it with a new, waterproof one!” “Please, go back to the office and rest. We’ll handle this.” Brody pouted, still dissatisfied, but finally turned and retreated to Sloane’s suite. The manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and began organizing the emergency repairs. As he walked past, I stopped him. “Sir, does this sort of thing happen often?” He recognized me as the guy from Headquarters, and a look of bitter defeat crossed his face. He pulled me into the stairwell of the fire escape, lowering his voice. “You’re the reviewer, right? There are things I shouldn’t say, but after today…” He sighed heavily. “The truth is, he’s Ms. Albright’s darling. We can’t touch him.” “Sloane is out of town today, so there’s no one to keep him in check.” “Normally, when she’s here, she at least keeps him locked up in her office…” His face was a mask of despair. “Last time, he ‘accidentally’ knocked over a cup of coffee.” “That coffee landed directly on our core server rack.” “All our company data was scrambled. The tech team worked nonstop for a full week to recover it. A week of everyone’s work, gone!” “And what happened then?” I asked. “Ms. Albright said the tech department was negligent, that the server was placed in a hazardous location. She docked our entire department’s quarterly bonus.” “She said it was a lesson for us to be more mindful.” My heart sank, inch by bitter inch. This was Sloane’s management. She enables an idiot to run rampant through a multi-million-dollar company, and then forces all the hardworking, diligent employees to pay the price for his stupidity. Sloane Albright, you are incredible. Just then, the door to the GM’s office creaked open. Brody poked his head out and yelled to the dark office. “I’m bored! Why is the power still out? My phone is almost dead! Are there any snacks in the kitchen?” No one answered. The only sound in the entire office was a suffocating, absolute silence. 3 The moment the engineers restored the power, my father called. He needed a core market data file. He said the Group Board needed the document that afternoon and that I must handle it personally, without any mistakes. I copied the data onto a drive from the Market Director and headed to the print room. I had just finished collating the document and clipped the pages together when the door burst open. Brody Jennings sauntered in, holding a can of Coke. His eyes lit up when he saw the heavy-duty stapler on the table next to my files. “Hey, let me borrow that. My chip bag tore open.” He reached out, his hand instinctively going for the stapler. I instinctively shielded the confidential documents and the stapler, pulling them back just out of his reach. His hand met empty air. His momentum sent him stumbling, and his foot caught on a power cord. The can of Coke slipped from his grip. The brown liquid flew in a perfect, precise arc, landing squarely on the stack of top-secret documents I had just printed. The thick pile of A4 paper was instantly soaked, turning the pages into a pulpy, ruined mess. Watching the destruction of the file, I finally lost my detached composure. I looked up, my gaze locking onto Brody’s face. He showed no remorse, only irritation that I hadn’t loaned him the stapler. My voice was flat and cold. “Can you cover the financial loss of this document?” Brody had probably never been questioned with such cold authority by a mere employee before. He paused, then his face flushed with rage. “How dare you talk to me like that?” “Do you even know who I am?” He puffed out his chest, his indignation righteous. “I’m the CEO’s husband!” I stared at him, feeling nothing but a profound, cold amusement. “Oh?” I asked calmly. “So the CEO’s partner is free to destroy company property? Free to ignore all our rules and regulations?” My retort clearly challenged his invented authority. He became frantic, pointing a finger directly at my chest. “Of course, I can!” “This company belongs to Sloane, which means it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” “Who the hell are you? Some new guy trying to lecture me?” Colleagues who had heard the commotion were now watching from the doorway, too terrified to move. A few administrative staff were tugging at my sleeve, their eyes pleading with me to just apologize and back down. I didn’t move. I simply held his gaze. Brody, feeling his public pride slip away, pulled out his phone, a sneer of triumph on his face. “Fine, you want to play tough? You think I can’t handle you?” “I’ll let your boss tell you exactly who I am and who you are!” He immediately video-called Sloane Albright. The call connected almost instantly. He turned the screen toward himself, waiting for his protector to appear. 4 The second the video connected, Brody’s voice became shrill and loud. He aimed the phone at his face, his voice full of manufactured indignation. “Sloane! What kind of company are you running? A new employee is trying to bully me!” “I just wanted to borrow a stapler, and he refused. Then he ruined the documents himself and tried to blame me, even threatening to hit me!” “If it wasn’t for you, I would have fought him already.” He twisted the truth completely, playing the victim of a colossal injustice. From the other end of the video, Sloane’s voice came, soothing and gentle. “Don’t be angry, sweetheart. Your wife is here. No one can bully you. I’ll handle it.” I could see her in a solemn conference room, the corporate logo prominent behind her. She was clearly at an industry summit crucial to the company’s future. But she had just stopped a critical meeting for this man. “Hand the phone over to him.” Sloane’s tone snapped from gentle to icy. She was speaking to the space behind Brody, toward all the employees, her voice a chilling command. “Who upset my Brody?” “Give the phone to him. I’ll speak to the person myself. I want to see who has the nerve.” Brody’s face broke into a triumphant smile. He shoved the phone at me, his chin raised high, his eyes full of provocation and victory. I calmly took the phone. My face came into sharp focus on the screen. Sloane saw me and her composure crumbled. A flicker of panic crossed her face. “Cameron? What are you doing there?” Her brows furrowed tightly, as if my presence was merely a bothersome complication. “Don’t get upset! Wait until I get back, and I’ll explain everything!” I looked at the familiar face on the screen, the face I had once believed would be mine forever. In that moment, she felt utterly alien and pitifully ridiculous. Seeing my cold silence, her tone grew impatient, bordering on a threat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cameron. I’m in a crucial meeting. The future of the company rests on this summit.” She had reduced everything to me being “ridiculous.” Her stupidity and moral bankruptcy finally broke my calm. I nearly laughed. I leaned into the camera and spoke, my voice sharp and cutting. “Perfect, Sloane.” “Your competence, your leadership—I’m done with the evaluation.” I didn’t wait for her response. I threw the phone back to the stunned Brody. Then I pulled out my own phone, dialed my father’s number, and hit call. The instant he picked up, I spoke. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clearly through the silence of the print room and echoed across the stunned office floor. “Dad, you can cancel the inspection.” “Tell Sloane Albright to come back here. And tell her to bring the divorce papers.”

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1 My husband Allen often hiked in the mountains for weeks, several times a year. His trips always worried me. So when my company—which never sent office staff into the field—assigned me to host a “Happy Families” hiking tour, I felt a secret thrill. Allen had left for the mountains three days earlier; maybe I’d run into him. My colleague handed me the tour list. “Stop grinning and check it. No mistakes.” I flipped through the names, then froze. There it was: Allen Bennett. Next to his name, a clear note:【Traveling with wife, Sophia, and 8-year-old son】 My colleague pointed. “He’s a regular. Comes twice a year with his family, like clockwork. See—’Family suite required.’ They’re so devoted, right?” Cold disbelief hit me. We’d been married eight years. A doctor had said Allen was infertile. He always said he hated kids, that we’d be child-free forever. But there he was, kneeling to tie a shoelace for a stranger, while a little boy—his spitting image—bounced beside him. This was the same man who wouldn’t wash a dish at home, now gently wiping sweat from the boy’s forehead. It wasn’t that he hated children. He just hated having them with me. My colleague waved the group flag. “Snap out of it! Go welcome Mr. Bennett and his wife!” … “Anna?!” The color drained from Allen’s face. He yanked his hand away from the woman’s, the movement so violent that the metal buckle on his backpack clanged loudly. But the woman, Sophia, was perfectly composed. She smoothed her cuff, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face as she extended a hand to me. “I’ve heard so much about you, Anna.” A diamond bracelet on her wrist flashed with a cold light in the sun. It was the matching piece to the one I’d given Allen last year. My gaze fell to the wedding band on her ring finger, identical to mine, and my throat tightened. The eight-year-old boy tugged on Allen’s jacket, his almond-shaped eyes, a perfect copy of his father’s, filled with confusion. “Dad, who is this lady?” That one word, “lady,” pierced my heart like a poisoned arrow. I suddenly remembered our anniversary last month. Allen, wearing the silk pajamas I’d just bought him, had twirled a lock of my hair and whispered, “It’s you and me forever. No kids, just us.” Ten years together. Eight years of marriage. I had worked myself to the bone all these years, just to prove I wasn’t after his family’s money. Now I understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child; he just didn’t want my child. The way he frantically tried to hide the boy behind him was more cutting than any words could ever be. I looked at him, a bitter laugh stuck in my throat, but he couldn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he turned to my colleague, his voice sharp. “Is this the kind of rude staff your company sends? Can’t she even shake a hand?” My colleague shot me a glare, grabbed my rigid hand, and forced it into Sophia’s. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bennett. Anna’s new to this. Please forgive her.” Sophia’s grip tightened, her nails digging into my skin, the sharp pain jolting me back to reality. “Allen talks about you all the time. It’s so nice to finally meet.” Her eyes held a familiar, triumphant hostility. In that instant, I knew. This “coincidental” work assignment was no coincidence at all. It was a scene she had carefully orchestrated. “Mr. Bennett, your wife and son’s gear is all checked and ready,” my colleague said from behind me, his voice oozing with eagerness to please. “Will you be taking your usual family suite?” “Of course,” Sophia said, a victorious smirk playing on her lips. “And remember to stock it with extra protection. The usual arrangement.” “Right away!” my colleague fawned. “Double the amount, just like always?” Allen said nothing. He just stared at the ground, his eyelashes fluttering wildly. I knew him too well. After ten years, I knew his every twitch. That’s what he always did when he was lying. His right eye would blink three times, and his left hand would start unconsciously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. A dull ache spread through my chest. I stood there, numb, until my colleague led us into the mountain resort. The receptionist greeted Allen like an old friend. “Welcome back, Mr. Bennett. Your favorite family suite is ready, complete with the rose petal service.” She handed over three key cards. “I hope you and your family have a wonderful stay.” Sophia’s hand rested possessively on Allen’s waist while the boy chattered excitedly about going to the hot springs. And I stood in the corner, clutching my staff ID, a ridiculous, pathetic outsider. “Anna,” my colleague nudged me with his elbow. “Go help Mr. Bennett with his luggage.” He lowered his voice. “He’s a major client. What’s wrong with you? Been in the office so long you’ve forgotten how to do your job?” I silently pushed the luggage cart into their room. As I was closing the door, I heard a soft click. Allen was waiting for me inside, sitting alone by the floor-to-ceiling window. “Mr. Bennett,” I heard my own voice, raw and rusted. “When did we get a divorce?” His head snapped up, but his expression was calm, almost practiced. “Anna, you have to know, you’re the only one I love.” He stood up, walking toward me. “The child… he was an accident. You have to believe me.” 2 Listening to Allen’s self-righteous tone, I wanted to laugh. I remembered the medical report from before we were married. The words “blocked vas deferens” had made my heart ache so much I couldn’t sleep all night. I told him it didn’t matter, that having him was enough. And now? He had a child with another woman behind my back and still had the audacity to act like he was the victim. Ten years together. Eight years of marriage. Maybe he still had some affection for me, but it was nothing more than habit. The love had died long ago, replaced by the weary routine of just getting by. “So,” my voice was ice, “because you love me, you had a child with someone else, and I’m just supposed to be a happy stepmom?” The moment the words left my mouth, I froze. That bitter, sarcastic tone… it was exactly how he sounded when he was losing patience with me. It turns out that when you live with someone long enough, you start to become them. The difference was, I had only ever spoken to him with kindness, never daring to say a harsh word. He shoved me out of the room. “You’re being irrational! You sound like a crazy person!” A bitter smile touched my lips. All these years, I had forgiven him for being late, for forgetting anniversaries, for his temper tantrums. But this… this was like him slapping me across the face and then demanding I smile and offer my other cheek. “Anna,” his voice came through the crack in the door, still dripping with entitlement, “we’ve been together for so long. It was just one kid with someone else. Can’t you be as understanding as you used to be?” I stared at him in silence, my heart a gaping wound. How ironic. He’d made a fool of me for eight years, and he still thought he held the moral high ground. “Fine,” his voice turned cold. “If you won’t listen to reason, then you can talk to my parents.” Before I could react, the door slammed shut with a bang, the force of it making the wedding photo locket I wore press, suddenly hot, against my chest. Numbly, I pulled out my phone. The name on the screen, “Dad,” felt like a splinter in my eye. “Anna! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My father-in-law’s roar exploded from the phone. “A man as good as our Allen married you. What more could you possibly want?” I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white. The reflection in the window showed a pathetic, broken woman. “Dad…” My throat was tight. “You knew… you knew Allen had someone else!” “Knew? Of course, we knew! It’s just Sophia, what’s the big deal?” My mother-in-law snatched the phone, her voice shrill. “You’ve been married to Allen for eight years and couldn’t even lay a single egg! So what if he found someone who could? It’s better than being stuck with a useless woman like you who can’t even get pregnant!” The hallway lights suddenly seemed blindingly bright, making spots dance in my vision. I thought of all the times I’d gone to their house, arriving three hours early to buy the freshest ingredients from the market. I thought of last year when my father-in-law had surgery, and I stayed outside the ICU for seven straight days. I thought of how, every payday, the first thing I did was buy them expensive imported health supplements. I had supported myself completely, yet I had to grovel in their home like the hired help, all because Allen’s family was wealthier than mine. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re a quiet, simple girl,” my mother-in-law rambled on, “we would have made Allen divorce you years ago! And now you have the nerve to blame my son? You should be thanking your lucky stars for getting a son for free!” “Sophia’s family is better than yours, she’s younger than you… and you? You’ve gotten older, but not any smarter! You’re not even worthy of polishing her shoes!” Her voice was a relentless torrent of insults. “At least Sophia could give Allen a child! Look at you!” Suddenly, the trembling in my hand stopped. So that was it. Everyone knew about this father and son. Everyone except me, the fool who had been kept in the dark for eight years. Eight years. I had slaved away for them, served them tea, waited on them by their sickbeds like a real daughter. And for what? In their eyes, I would always be the poor girl who married up. “I’ve had enough of this life. Let’s get a divorce.” I cut her off calmly and ended the call. The hallway light felt sharp now, illuminating the pathetic joke my life had been for the past eight years. 3 I took a deep, shuddering breath. So this is what it felt like to finally say “no” to my mother-in-law. Composing myself, I called my lawyer. My voice was so hoarse it didn’t sound like my own. “I need you to draw up divorce papers. As soon as possible.” The morning sun was piercing. Eight years of marriage flashed before my eyes: the coffee stain in the library when we first met, the tear on his cheek at our wedding, the eventual slide into perfunctory goodnight kisses, and the anniversaries he was always “out of town” for. The perfect match I thought we were had only ever existed in my head. I fled the mountain retreat, getting on the first bus back to the city. As the bus pulled away, I saw Sophia through the window, boarding with the child in her arms. The boy was asleep on her shoulder, his features so much like Allen’s. The engine rumbled, but Sophia walked straight down the aisle and took the empty seat next to me. “Anna. Fancy seeing you again.” I didn’t even look at her, a cold sneer on my face. “What, feeling proud of being the other woman?” “You’re wrong, Anna.” Sophia calmly adjusted her cuff, the identical wedding band on her finger glinting mockingly. “In love, there’s no first-come, first-served. The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel.” My nails dug into my palms, the metallic taste of blood spreading in my mouth. “Do you know why Allen put up with you all these years, even though you’re useless in bed? It’s because he said you’d die without him. He’d rather suffer through the disgust of being with you than divorce you.” “You’re a disgrace to women! How long has it been since you and Allen even slept together? A year? Two? Three?!” She shoved her phone in my face. The intimate photos on the screen were like razors scraping against my retinas. Allen was wearing the suit I’d bought him for our third anniversary, the one he’d never even opened, posed in ways I had never seen in our entire marriage. “Take a good look,” she said, her fingertip maliciously tracing the flush on Allen’s face. “See how your husband, the one who wouldn’t even touch you, begs me to take him.” The date on the photos was a glaring stab to the heart. It was the day of my mother’s funeral. He’d told me he had to entertain a client and couldn’t be there for me. My vision blurred, the images twisting and distorting. He looked so handsome in that black suit I’d given him, the one he’d tossed into the back of the closet with the tags still on. Sophia kept swiping, each new photo a branding iron on my nerves. It wasn’t that he had no libido; he just had none for me. He wasn’t physically incapable; his body had just instinctively rejected me. Just like his parents did. “This one’s the best.” She zoomed in on a close-up. Allen was wearing the jade pendant from our wedding. “He loves to clutch this when he climaxes. Says it feels like he’s laughing at how pathetic you are.” That pendant. I had spent three days kneeling and sorting through stones at the jade market to find the perfect piece for him. He had promised to wear it for a lifetime. The scenery outside the window blurred past, a perfect metaphor for my ridiculous eight-year marriage. I remembered our wedding day, how he’d stood on his toes to whisper in my ear, “I’m all yours for the rest of my life.” It turned out I was the one who had been taken for a ride all along. The worst part wasn’t the betrayal. It was realizing that every sweet memory was laced with poison. Every frown, every excuse, every time he was “too tired”—it all made sense now. Eight years. Over two thousand days and nights, I had been living inside an elaborate lie. The bus entered a tunnel, and darkness swallowed everything. Good. This way, Sophia wouldn’t see the woman she called a “disgrace” crying like a pathetic joke.

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

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

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

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One in the morning, and I was scrolling through a local community board when I saw an SOS post. [S]: Help me. I’m on the metro and I can’t get off. A few replies had already trickled in. [User774]: Pro tip: the train has to stop before you can get off. [NightOwl21]: Sounds like someone’s half asleep. Then the original poster, S, replied again. [S]: I’m not asleep! I know how a metro works! But this train has been moving nonstop for ten minutes! The trip between these two stations is only supposed to take four minutes! [User774]: Whoa, okay, stay calm. Maybe it’s a malfunction. Which line are you on? I can try to contact transit control for you. [S]: Riverton Metro, Line 2. I stared at the last reply, and my blood ran cold. I was on that train. 1. I glanced at the time on my phone: 1:11 AM. It had been exactly eleven minutes since I boarded. Line 2 was Riverton’s main commuter line. The trains were frequent, the stops close together. Running this long without stopping was definitely not right. If I hadn’t stumbled upon that post, lost in the endless scroll, I might not have even noticed. My fingers flew across the screen as I replied. [Ava91]: Which car are you in? I think I’m on the same train. He replied almost instantly. [S]: The last one. It’s just a habit. [Ava91]: Don’t move. I’m coming to find you. 2. Three minutes later, I found him in the rear car. He introduced himself as Sam, a sophomore in college. “Thank God,” he breathed, clutching his chest in relief. “Another living person.” “You have no idea,” he rambled, his words spilling out in a rush. “When I realized the train wasn’t stopping, especially after one in the morning… I was terrified. For a second, I thought I’d stepped into some creepypasta story, you know? Like I was in another dimension.” He looked at me, his eyes wide. “So, uh… what do we do now?” Looking into his wide, earnest eyes, I had no doubt he was just a college kid. He had the presence of mind to post on a forum but hadn’t thought to make a simple call for help. “Let’s start with the emergency line,” I suggested. A few more minutes had crawled by, and the train showed no signs of slowing down. A malfunction seemed like the most logical explanation. I dialed the six-digit number printed on a sticker by the door. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service.” The automated voice made me freeze. Did I misdial? It was only six digits. I hung up, double-checked the number, and carefully punched it in again. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service.” Again. And again. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” After several failed attempts, the same robotic response echoed in the quiet car. Sam swallowed hard. “Ma’am… are you sure you’re dialing it right?” “I don’t think I’d get it wrong four times in a row,” I said, though a seed of doubt was planted. “Maybe it’s your phone,” Sam said, slapping his forehead as if struck by a brilliant idea. He pulled out his own phone. “Let me try.” “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in—” “NOT! IN! SERVICE!” a piercing shriek suddenly screamed from his phone, so loud and distorted that Sam nearly dropped it. His face went pale. “Ma’am… is my phone broken too?” At this point, my own composure was starting to fray. I was only three years older than him, just another corporate drone who’d been working for a year. I gripped a handrail, my knuckles white. “Why don’t you… check the post again? See what people are saying.” Sam fumbled with his phone, his hands shaking slightly. The thread had a dozen new replies. [CommuterDude]: Wow, another unlucky soul on board? [SleeplessInRiverton]: Hold on, does the metro even run this late? I thought they shut down at midnight. [CityDweller]: That’s only for the suburban lines. The main city lines in Riverton run until 2:30 AM. … [WorriedMom]: OP? Other commenter? Are you two okay? It’s been a while. [ScaryStoriesFan]: I’ve read enough of these online stories to know what happens next! They’ve crossed into a mysterious parallel dimension. Right now, they’re probably hiding from zombies or a vengeful ghost! Sam pointed a trembling finger at that last comment. “You don’t think he’s right, do you?” he whispered. “Probably not,” I said, pointing to another reply further down. “Look, this person says they called the emergency line for us.” Sam scrolled down. Sure enough, a user named SturdyCarrot had posted a few comments below. [SturdyCarrot]: Don’t panic, you two. I’ve already called it in. The staff said they’re running a system diagnostic now. [S]: Thank you so much! By the way, what’s the number you called? We keep trying, but it says it’s not in service. [SturdyCarrot]: It’s 618-999. “Son of a…” Sam swore under his breath. “The sticker on the wall here says 619-888.” “So we couldn’t get through because of a typo.” I sighed, shaking my head. “This whole world is held together with duct tape and a prayer.” Just like my boss, making me, a marketing specialist, write a technical grant proposal. That’s why I was on this damn train at one in the morning to begin with. A wave of relief washed over us. Knowing that help was on the way, we both relaxed, subconsciously pushing aside the memory of that bizarre shriek and one other, more fatal, inconsistency. 3. “Hello? Can you hear me?” A voice, crackling and distant, suddenly came through the train’s intercom. “Are there two passengers currently stranded on the train?” Sam, who had been dozing off, snapped awake. “Yes! Yes, that’s us! You finally found us!” “We sincerely apologize for this distressing experience,” the voice continued. “I will be performing an emergency stop shortly. After you disembark, you’ll need to walk approximately 600 yards down the track. You’ll see the next platform from there.” That sounded odd. “Why can’t you stop at the platform?” I asked. “I’m afraid the train’s system is completely compromised,” the voice replied. “A normal station stop is impossible.” “Whatever, man. As long as I can get off this thing and go home to bed, I don’t care where we stop,” Sam muttered, clearly done with the whole ordeal. “Understood. The train is now commencing an emergency stop. Please hold on tight.” The moment the words left the speaker, the train gave a violent, metallic lurch. And the lights went out. “Holy crap!” When the lights flickered back on, Sam and I were sprawled on the floor. “Ugh, a little warning would’ve been nice,” I grumbled, pushing myself up and dusting off my clothes. The train was still. A soft ding announced that the doors were open. “You may now exit the vehicle. Remember, the platform is straight ahead,” the voice said one last time, then fell silent. “Let’s go, let’s get out of here,” Sam said, eagerly jumping from the car onto the track bed. I looked out. The tunnel was a pitch-black maw, stretching into an endless void. There was no air movement, no sound. Something felt wrong, a cold knot tightening in my stomach, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Hey, Sam,” I called out. “Check your post. Has anyone else replied?” “Huh? Right now?” He looked back at me, confused. “We’re saved. Can’t it wait?” “Just let everyone know we’re okay.” “Fine, I’ll start a new thread,” he said, already typing. “But you should get off the train. We can walk and post at the same time.” He had a point. What if the train suddenly started moving again? I took a deep breath and swung one leg out of the car. The instant my foot left the train, a jolt like an electric current shot through my body. “I know what’s wrong!” I yelled. “Oh god, this is wrong!” Sam screamed at the exact same time. 4. In the next second, we scrambled back onto the train, shoving our way through the doors just as they began to slide shut. “You figured something out, didn’t you?” we asked each other in unison. I spoke first, my voice trembling slightly. “I just remembered something we completely overlooked.” “This train has been running for over half an hour. Not only have we not stopped at a station…” “We haven’t even seen a station,” Sam finished, his face ashen. Thirty minutes. Not a single glimpse of a platform, not even a flash of station lights in the darkness. Was this place still the city we knew? I had no idea what lay waiting for us in that dark tunnel, but my gut screamed that it was infinitely worse than staying on this train. Sam was shaking, his eyes wide with terror. He shoved his phone in my face. “That person, SturdyCarrot… they sent me a private message three minutes ago.” His finger pointed to a single, chilling line of text. “She said Line 2 was shut down for maintenance at 11 PM tonight.” “This train… it shouldn’t exist.” 5. The lights inside the car flickered violently, casting Sam’s face in a ghastly, greenish glow. The doors hissed shut, sealing us in. The intercom crackled back to life, but this time, it was the cold, automated voice from the phone call. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” Sam’s voice was a choked whisper. “Are we… still alive?” A cold sweat trickled down my spine, but I forced myself to stay calm, for his sake as much as my own. “We’re alive,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “But I think… I think we’re in another timeline. Or something like it.” My mind raced. An idea sparked. “Wait! Your phone!” My phone had lost its signal ages ago, but Sam’s could still connect to that one community board. “Try to post again! Tell them what’s happened!” If we were trapped in some isolated space, two ordinary people like us stood no chance. But if an outside force could somehow “open” this space for us, maybe, just maybe, we had a shot. Sam’s eyes lit up with a sliver of hope. He scrambled to open the app. “It’s working! It’s really still working!” he exclaimed. “That’s so weird. No other apps connect, just this one.” “Don’t worry about weird. Just post,” I urged him. The train began to move again, pulling us deeper into the unknown darkness. [HELP! Experts needed! We’re trapped in another dimension!] Replies flooded in almost immediately. [User101]: Is this some kind of viral marketing stunt? [ScaryStoriesFan]: I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU SO! This is a legit paranormal event! [SturdyCarrot]: Oh my god, thank goodness you’re okay! You vanished for a while, I was starting to think… [Writer wannabe]: This is a fascinating premise. OP, would you be willing to grant me the rights to write a novel based on your experience? [GoodGuyGreg]: Dude, really? Not the time. [SkepticSam]: You guys actually believe this? Come on. Amidst the noise of useless sympathy and outright disbelief, we found a beacon of hope. [Finn_Helps]: You’re on Metro Line 2? [Finn_Helps]: I studied this stuff with my uncle for a few years. I might be able to help. Tell me which station you got on at. I pointed at the screen, simultaneously slapping Sam’s thigh in excitement. “Him! Contact him, now!” “Ow, ow, okay! I’m typing!” Sam yelped. [S]: I got on at Willow Creek Station. He paused, then looked at me. “Where did you get on?” I met his gaze. “Willow Creek.” What a coincidence. It seemed the problem started right at the station. A new message from Finn appeared. [Finn_Helps]: Just as I thought. The problem is with the station itself. Willow Creek isn’t far from me. I’m on my way. Be there in five! 6. Five minutes later, as promised, Finn messaged us again. [Finn_Helps]: I’m here. And you were right. Something is definitely wrong with this place. [Finn_Helps]: But don’t worry. My uncle and I have dealt with something like this before. I can get you out. Finn’s words were a powerful sedative, calming our frayed nerves. The train was still speeding through the dark, but the suffocating panic had subsided. Sam let out a long, shuddering breath. “To be honest,” he admitted, “for a minute there, I thought maybe you weren’t human. This crazy stuff is happening, but you’ve been so calm.” I managed a weak smile. “I’m faking it. But maybe you should consider working on your own nerves, kid.” “At least we’re almost out of this,” I added. The truth was, I’d had my own suspicions about Sam. That he wasn’t human, or that something was wearing his skin. And I still did. Because a few minutes ago, I had glanced at our reflection in the dark train window. In the glass, Sam’s face was a complete blank. 7. I watched Sam closely, but his every move, every gesture, was perfectly normal. If I hadn’t seen that horrifying reflection, I would have just thought he was a fellow victim, another unlucky soul trapped with me. But what did it want? I didn’t know. All I could do was wait and see. For now, at least, it didn’t seem to want to harm me. “Hey, Finn says we need to go to the front of the train and find something,” Sam said, breaking the silence. To prove it, he held out his phone for me to see the messages. [Finn_Helps]: I’ve dealt with the anomaly at Willow Creek. Now you need to go to the operator’s cabin at the very front of the train. Find a specific object and destroy it. That will break the loop and return you to the real world. [S]: What is it? What does it look like? [Finn_Helps]: It’s hard to explain. But you’ll know it when you see it. It’s… obvious. Trust no one and nothing that tries to stop you. It’s all part of the illusion. Sam and I exchanged a look. “Let’s go,” I said. 8. We started from the last car, moving through the eight empty carriages. With every window we passed, our reflections ran alongside us. But out of the corner of my eye, Sam’s reflection was always just a fraction of a second behind his actual movements. Thankfully, our journey was unimpeded. No strange creatures, no ghostly apparitions. We made it all the way to the operator’s cabin without incident. “That was… too easy,” Sam panted, leaning against the wall. “I thought something was supposed to try and stop us.” I pulled my hand away from his, pretending to be annoyed. “Can you even pass a basic fitness test?” “A fitness test?” he asked, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Oh… uh, yeah. Yeah, I passed.” That momentary hesitation didn’t escape me. My heart hammered against my ribs. The cabin door was right in front of us. What was behind it? And what would the thing standing next to me do? My hand slipped into my pocket, fingers closing around the small eyebrow razor I’d forgotten to take out of my purse. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was all I had. “How do we open this?” Sam asked, fiddling with the locked door. On a whim, I stepped forward and knocked four times. The door clicked open. “Let’s go. Find ‘it’,” I said, starting to step inside. But Sam didn’t move. He grabbed my arm, his eyes fixed on me. “Wait,” he said. I spun around, the razor already in my hand, its tiny blade tracing a line across his neck. “What are you doing?!” he yelped. I kept my eyes locked on his. “Finn said to trust nothing that tries to stop us.” “What are you stopping me from?”

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I spent years chasing after my legal guardian, putting my heart on the line. Finally, on my nineteenth birthday, I summoned the courage to confess my love. But Julian looked at me with cold fury. “Hazel, don’t forget your place in this family.” Yet, clearly, three years ago at that gala, he was the one who pulled me into his arms. With the scent of whiskey on his breath, he whispered in my ear: “When you grow up, let’s get engaged, okay?” I took his drunken promise as gospel. He treated it like a forgotten dream. The day he publicly announced his engagement to his long-lost “one that got away,” I showed up with my suitcase. People scanned us with amused eyes, asking how I felt. For the first time, I didn’t cause a scene. “I wish Julian all the happiness in the world. As for me, I’m leaving the country to study.” He crushed the champagne flute in his hand, his eyes darkening for the first time. Later, he canceled the engagement. He stopped me on a snowy street in a foreign city, lowering his head in defeat for the first time. “I was wrong. Please, Hazel… come home with me.” 1 “Thank you, Professor Miller, but I won’t be joining the exchange program. Please give the spot to someone who needs it more.” After hitting send, I exhaled a shaky breath. A heavy weight lifted off my chest. This year, the university had a prestigious dance program in Europe. Professor Miller had been pushing for me to go. But my body… it could no longer support the dream of being a dancer. A cold wind cut through the air, and I couldn’t stop coughing. When I pulled the tissue away, it was stained crimson. Before stepping into the elevator, I crumpled the tissue and tossed it into the trash. Today was my nineteenth birthday. I couldn’t let Julian see this. Three years ago, he held my hand and told me to wait until I grew up. I had waited long enough. My phone buzzed. It was Julian. “Hazel, are you home yet?” Julian was my guardian. The man who raised me. I smiled involuntarily, my voice lightening. “Not yet, I’m just unlocking the door.” His voice sounded unusually exhausted. “Happy Birthday. Something came up tonight. I’ll be back before midnight.” I understood. I looked down and opened the door. The lights flickered on, revealing a room filled with pink flowers and blue balloons. On the table sat a velvet box containing the blue agate necklace I had begged him for last month. It was exactly what I expected. My mood soared, and my courage swelled. “Julian, I… I want to tell you something.” “Something I’ve kept buried in my heart for a long time.” Before I could spill my secret, the line went dead. Beep. I lowered my eyes, quickly composing myself. I placed the necklace back in the box, still hopeful, waiting for him to come back and clasp it around my neck himself. Midnight came. The clock struck twelve. Julian didn’t show up. This was the first time he had completely missed my birthday. I felt dazed. He must be too tired. That’s why he didn’t make it. Calculating it now, this was my tenth year living with Julian. When my parents passed away in a suspicious accident, rumors swirled that they had crossed the wrong people in the underworld. They left no bodies to bury. I went from being the pampered princess of the Cloud family to a girl standing in the mud. My father’s legacy was devoured by his so-called “best friends” and business partners over drinks and laughter. Red-eyed, I went from door to door, begging for help. But nobody in the city dared to take in an orphaned girl with a mountain of debt. On the day of the funeral, only one man in black arrived to pay his respects. Julian. I had never met him. Rumor had it he was a dangerous man, a fixer from the shadows who had lost all his own kin. He reached out his hand to me, his lashes lowering. “If you’re willing… you can come with me.” That was ten years ago. 2 The coughing fit returned. I swallowed a handful of pills with warm water and let the medicine drag me into a fitful sleep. When the sky began to lighten, a rustling sound woke me. “Hazel. Long time no see.” A woman stood in the kitchen, wearing Julian’s oversized shirt, busy plating food. Her shoulder was exposed, pale and marked with red hickeys. I froze, my hands clenching my sleeves. Vanessa. The woman Julian had placed in his heart years ago. Seven years ago, when Julian was in deep trouble, she left without a word. Why was she back now? My gaze shifted, and my breath hitched. She was wearing the necklace. The blue agate necklace Julian gave me for my birthday yesterday. I pointed at her neck, my voice trembling. “That belongs to me.” Vanessa looked at me with amusement. She wasn’t surprised. Instead, she yanked the necklace hard. Snap. “Ah!” She screamed dramatically and lunged toward me, whispering in my ear as she fell: “Hazel, you haven’t improved a bit in all these years.” Before I could react, she threw herself onto the floor. The necklace skidded across the tiles. “Hazel, I didn’t mean to wear your necklace! I’m sorry!” I narrowed my eyes. I walked over, picked up the necklace, and dusted it off. I suddenly remembered how many traps she had set for me seven years ago. How many fights she caused between me and Julian. I stood over her, my voice cold. “It’s been seven years. You still love framing people? There’s no one else here, Vanessa. Who are you acting for?” The next second, I was shoved aside. Julian stormed past me, helping the weeping Vanessa up from the floor. “Hazel, where are your manners?” I stood there, stunned. “She did it herself…” Vanessa cut me off, looking up with red, teary eyes. She looked fragile, like glass about to shatter. “I know… you blame me for leaving Julian seven years ago. You blame me for abandoning him when he needed me most.” “But I had my reasons!” She sobbed, collapsing into Julian’s arms, looking at me like I was a monster. But I caught the glint of victory in her eyes. I stood frozen. Since living with Julian, I had never been treated like this. I sneered. “Miss Vanessa, save the acting for the stage. Do you think this soap opera routine still works?” The air turned deadly silent. Only Vanessa’s soft sobbing remained. Julian looked up, his sharp gaze sweeping over Vanessa. His expression was unreadable. I stood my ground, watching their eyes meet, gripping the necklace in my hand until it hurt. 3 Vanessa wiped a tear, her eyes darting between Julian and me. Her tone was aggrieved, pivoting away from our confrontation to something sharper. “If I had known you and Hazel were together… maybe I shouldn’t have come back to disturb you.” My secret was out in the open. I forced myself to stay calm. It wasn’t a secret that I loved my guardian anyway. Julian raised an eyebrow, his gaze turning cold. “What nonsense are you talking about?” Vanessa let huge tears roll down her face. She tried to take off the apron and leave, but Julian grabbed her wrist. A stack of photos spilled out of the apron pocket. When I saw what they were, I froze. They were photos I had secretly taken of Julian. Candid shots that revealed my hidden admiration, my secret love. I had hidden these deep in my bookshelf. No one knew about them. A wave of shame washed over me. I looked at Julian. He stared at the photos scattered on the floor, his brow furrowing deeply. A moment later, he picked one up and tossed it into the lit fireplace. “These are just a child’s games. They don’t count.” I panicked, grabbing his sleeve. “How can this be a game? I’m nineteen, Julian! I’m not a child anymore!” “Do you remember… three years ago at the gala at the Royal Hotel? I came to pick you up. You said… you said when I grew up…” “Impossible.” Julian cut me off coldly, his eyes darkening into an abyss. “Hazel, I’ve indulged you too much.” “I have always seen you as a child. You shouldn’t have such disgusting thoughts.” I closed my eyes. My face went pale. I had anticipated the worst outcome, but hearing it broke me. He had spoken casually while drunk. I was the fool who took it seriously. Julian’s voice came from above, leaving no room for argument. “I bought a condo in the suburbs. The deed is in your name. Pack your things. You move out tomorrow.” I heard myself give a soft, defeated “Okay.” He was angry. I always thought I was special to Julian. That maybe, just maybe, he loved me too. The kitchen window was open. The wind blew the photos across the floor. I sniffled, squatting down to pick them up one by one. The cold air hit my lungs like razor blades. I couldn’t suppress the violent coughing. I felt the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. I panicked, searching my pockets for a tissue, turning my back to wipe the blood and tears from my face. Julian glanced at me coldly, then walked around me. “If you’re sick, go to the hospital. The Sterling family isn’t so poor that we can’t afford a doctor.” Vanessa followed him closely. I stood up. “Julian.” I refused to give up. “You said last time you’d go to the hospital with me. I want to go tomorrow.” Julian stopped walking. I stared at his back, stubbornness fueling my voice. “I’ll wait for you tomorrow.” 4 The weather in the city turned bleak. Heavy rain poured down. I waited alone at the hospital for a long time. I waited until the storm turned into a drizzle. My heart sank. Finally, only Wes, his assistant, showed up. “Mr. Sterling said he’s accompanying Miss Vanessa shopping today. Here is a card. Buy whatever you need.” I pulled my coat tighter, asking the question I didn’t want the answer to. “Did he say anything else?” Wes lowered his head, hesitating. “Say it,” I urged. “Mr. Sterling said… he hopes you remember your position.” “In one month, he will be engaged to Miss Vanessa.” Engaged? I took the card expressionlessly. I finally realized that my relationship with him was gone. He was eager to start a new life. My feelings were a stain he wanted to wipe away. He was reminding me, every second, to remember who I was. In that moment, I felt foolish. Holding onto a drunken sentence for years? Pathetic. Fortunately, the test results came back. Not cancer yet, but I needed surgery. The doctor suggested I go north, or even abroad, for treatment. After hesitating, I decided to tell Julian everything one last time. When I arrived at the company, it was late. The light was still on in Julian’s office. Just as I was about to walk in, a woman stepped out of the shadows. It was Vanessa. She was sneakily arranging her clothes, hiding a file behind her back after snapping photos of it. Her phone screen lit up. She hurried to a quiet corner to make a call. The office was empty. I followed her to the stairwell. Her voice was light and triumphant. “Don’t worry, I got it. This data is enough to bring down Sterling Corp.” “Of course. He loves me so much, getting the key to his safe was easy.” My hands shook. I pressed the record button on my phone. Vanessa turned abruptly. The clicking of her heels got closer. She was coming towards me. I backed away, trying to keep my breathing steady. I retreated out of the stairwell, my heart pounding. Vanessa was dangerous. I had to tell Julian immediately. As I backed up, I bumped into a broad, warm chest. “You’re looking for me?” Julian was behind me. He took a deliberate step back to create distance. I was so panicked I almost cried. I played the recording. “Julian! I saw Vanessa stealing documents in your office! She’s on the phone with someone planning to destroy the company…” Julian’s face went rigid. To my shock, he snatched the phone from my hand. His expression was pitch black. Without hesitation, he pressed delete. “Since I’ve chosen to marry her, she will be your sister-in-law. I don’t want to see you doing this again.” “When did you become like this? Using such underhanded tactics?” I looked at him in disbelief. It felt like I was meeting a stranger. Julian was supposed to be sharp. Calculating. Ruthless to his enemies. Could a man like that lose all judgment over love? I fought back the tears, looking straight into his eyes. “Is that really how you see me, Julian?” He turned his back to me and lit a cigarette. I took a deep breath, wiped the corner of my eye, and let my heart die. “I came here to clear things up. I was immature before. I had feelings I shouldn’t have had.” “From now on, I wish you and Vanessa a long, happy life.” I did as he asked. Overnight, I moved everything out. I waited in the small condo for two weeks, confirming my surgery date abroad for the end of the month. While packing, there was a knock on the door. “Delivery.” I opened the package. It was a gold-embossed engagement invitation. Julian Sterling & Vanessa Li. Inside was a photo of them. Vanessa holding Julian’s arm, smiling brightly. I realized today was the engagement party. After packing the last of my life into a suitcase, I went to the venue. Before I even entered the hall, I heard the cheers. “Congratulations!” “What a perfect couple!” “Kiss her! Kiss her!” The moment I stepped through the doors, the room fell silent. All eyes fixed on me.

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The fake heiress, Veronica, was a mess of tears and mascara on the day I officially came back to the manor. Her drama queen moment? Mom and Dad were forcing her to marry Gideon Kessler—the notorious, ill-tempered playboy of the city’s elite, who also happened to be confined to a wheelchair. My mother, Elaine Ashton, glanced at my own rough hands, the skin calloused and scarred from years of manual labor, and let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “Since you’ve decided to show up, Maisie, you can take the contract. It’s not like you’ve seen the inside of a decent restaurant, let alone the world. You’ll be lucky to have it.” Veronica sat beside her, barely concealing a smirk, waiting for me to throw a fit, to beg, to refuse. Instead, I simply took a calm sip of the cheap coffee I’d been given and asked in my unpolished, direct way: “What’s the actual money we’re talkin’ here? Is the dowry stock options or cold, hard cash? And does the monthly allowance come on time?” The entire family froze. My mother, visibly stunned, stammered that the monthly allowance would be two million. I couldn’t help it—I laughed out loud, slapping my thigh. “Two million a month? You serious? Shoot, give me the money, and he can have the temper of a psycho. If he’s rich enough to pay, I’ll sponge-bathe him, flip him like a pancake, and tuck him in until he kicks the bucket!” “Where I come from, survival is the only virtue. What’s a little hardship, huh? Piece of cake!” My grand declaration landed with a thud. My birth mother stared at me as if I were a lunatic, before finally digging into her Birkin bag and tossing a bank card onto the coffee table. “Here’s a million. Your severance, so to speak. You’re the elder, but this marriage was always… well, never mind. Once you’re married, stay gone. Don’t come back and embarrass Veronica.” My hand shot out, pressing down on the card before it could slide off the polished wood. One million dollars. Back home in the country, my step-parents were ready to sell me to the village simpleton for a five-thousand-dollar bride price. To pay for my little brother’s school fees, I’d prick my hands bloody clipping thousands of threads a day at the factory just to earn fifty bucks. Now, I get a monthly salary and a one-million-dollar bonus just to play nursemaid to a rich cripple? This wasn’t a punishment. This was the lottery. “What’s the PIN?” I pulled out my beat-up phone—the screen spiderwebbed with cracks—and opened my notepad to write it down. Veronica, sitting primly across from me, covered her mouth, a sneer flashing in her eyes. “Sister, you’re just… going to check your dignity at the door? That’s the Kesslers. It’s a literal death trap. You might get the money, but you’ll never live to spend it.” I didn’t even lift my head. I jotted down the password, then carefully slipped the card into my inner pocket, patting it securely. Then I looked up. “Dignity, little sister? How much is that going for a pound these days? Does it buy dinner?” “Back home, I spent winters hauling a hundred-pound sack of feed to the pigs, with my little brother strapped to my back. If I was a minute late, I got hit. Now all I have to do is look after one guy for two million? Only an idiot like you would call this a death trap.” Veronica rolled her eyes, deciding I was clearly a lost cause, a peasant too poor to be reasoned with. My father, Robert Ashton, waved his hand dismissively from the head of the table. “Fine. Since you have no objections, pack your things and go. The Kessler car is waiting outside.” “You got it, Boss… I mean, Dad.” I agreed instantly, turned, and walked back to the cramped guest room where I’d left my belongings. I came out carrying one thing: a battered, bright red-and-blue utility tote. It held my entire life: two sets of faded clothes, a pack of my frozen pasta, and a few bottles of medical muscle rub. When I reached the front door carrying that ratty bag, Elaine’s face went pale green. “You’re going to show up at the Kesslers with that? Are you trying to make the Ashton name a joke in this city?” I looked down at the sturdy, synthetic canvas. “It’s durable. It holds a lot and it’s waterproof. We always used this kind for travel.” “Just go! Get out!” Elaine shooed me away, unable to look at me a moment longer. I shrugged, unbothered, and climbed into the stretch limo sent by the Kesslers. As the door closed, I looked through the tinted window. The three of them were huddled together: Veronica clinging to Elaine’s arm, whining, and Elaine stroking her hair. A perfect, intimate family tableau. I touched the bank card in my pocket, and a genuine, private smile stretched my face. If they knew this wasn’t punishment, but a rescue, a genuine opportunity for me, I wondered if they’d be furious enough to demand that million back. The car made a smooth climb into the exclusive hillside community. The Kessler estate loomed on the hillside like a silent, black beast. It was late, and only a few dim ground lights were on. The man who’d picked me up, the butler, stopped the car. His eyes held a mixture of pity and contempt as he opened my door. “Miss Ashton,” he said, using the wrong name as a deliberate slight. “We’re here. Mr. Gideon’s temper is… challenging. Especially at night. Good luck to you.” I grabbed my utility tote and stepped out, looking up at the obscenely large house. I took a deep breath. “Show me the way,” I said, straightening my spine. My gaze was steady, as firm as a rock. “I’m clocking in.” The butler led me to a door at the end of the second-floor hallway. He dumped me with a curt, “The master doesn’t want visitors. Take care of yourself,” and vanished, as if a ghost were chasing him. I held my bag and reached for the knob. The moment my hand touched the brass, a heavy, metallic scent of medicine wafted out of the crack in the door. “Get out!” The door was barely ajar when a black shadow accompanied by a furious, primal roar flew at the opening. The years of endless farm work and factory shifts had trained my reflexes better than any boxing class. I sidestepped, and a delicate porcelain cup shattered against the doorframe. The shrapnel grazed my cheek, leaving a stinging trail. The room inside was pitch black. The legendary crippled husband was hidden in the shadows, his voice a gravelly snarl. “Are the Ashtons that desperate for cash? Sending me this?” I touched my cheek, feeling the warm bead of blood, but I wasn’t angry. I was relieved. He could still throw things. That meant he wasn’t dead. My long-term meal ticket was secure. Instead of retreating, I pushed the door open, walked in, and flipped the main light switch. The sudden glare made the man in the wheelchair throw an arm up to shield his eyes. I took him in: gaunt, too thin, with a pale face and sunken eye sockets. But nothing could hide the sharp, exquisite bone structure of his face, or the dark, bloodshot fury in his eyes. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Gideon Kessler saw my cheap clothes and the ratty utility tote and his disgust intensified. He snatched a black Amex from the bedside table and threw it. It hit my collarbone—sharp, painful—but the crisp sound it made as it hit the marble floor was music to my ears. My eyes lit up. I bent to snatch the card faster than a gambler seizing a winning hand. “Boss, what’s the PIN?” I pulled out my phone, opening my banking app. Time to verify the goods. Gideon choked on his anger, clearly not used to someone so mercenary. He gritted his teeth. “Six eights! Now get out!” I typed it in. Search. Seeing the dizzying string of zeros on the screen, my breath hitched. Hundreds, thousands, millions… Two million. It was real. Back home, I cooked, fed the livestock, washed clothes for ten people, and still had to bring piecework home from the factory—all for barely three thousand dollars a month, tops. Now, I take one hit, and I get two million? “Thank you, Boss!” I tucked the card into my inner pocket, patting it firmly, afraid it would somehow fly away. My sheer, naked greed made Gideon laugh—a weak, humorless sound. He pointed at the door. “You have the money. Can you leave now?” “Oh, no can do.” I put down my utility tote, rolled up my sleeves, and walked to the corner, where I expertly located a broom and mop. “I’ve accepted the money. And where I come from, we honor a deal. The money’s taken, the job’s getting done.” I knelt down and began to silently sweep up the shards of porcelain. The work was second nature, quick and efficient. I wasn’t kidding; this felt like a break. In the old village, I spent winters washing ten people’s clothes in the icy river, my hands covered in cracked, weeping chilblains. I endured that soul-deep, burning pain for twenty-three years. Standing here now, in an air-conditioned mansion with the thermostat set to a comfortable seventy-eight degrees, and getting paid two million to sweep a floor? What reason did I have to leave? Gideon stared at me, as if I were a madwoman. “Are you deaf, or just trying to get yourself killed?” I finished mopping the floor until it gleamed, even wiping a smudge of dirt from his wheelchair tire, before standing up. I gave him a standard, deferential smile. “I’m Maisie Shaw. And from now on, I’m your full-time everything. You can have the worst temper in the world. As long as the checks clear, you can tear the roof off the house, and I’ll stack the bricks back up for you.” “Also, that cup looked expensive. Next time you need to vent, just smash the stainless-steel thermos. It won’t break, it’s loud, and it’s way cheaper.” My “dead pig doesn’t fear boiling water” attitude seemed to completely baffle Gideon. He stared at me, then slammed his finger onto the call button on his wheelchair armrest. Ten minutes passed. The massive mansion remained utterly silent. No one came. “Do you see now?” Gideon slowly lifted his finger, a self-mocking sneer on his lips. “In this house, I’m less than a dog. Follow me, and you’ll get those numbers, but you’ll get nothing else.” I ignored his cynicism, my attention snagging on the untouched food tray on his bedside table. It was a bowl of congealed pastas, topped with sickly yellow, rotting greens. The oil had solidified into white grease. I walked over and touched the bowl. Ice cold. Hard as a rock. “You’re supposed to eat this?” I frowned. Gideon turned his head away, utterly jaded. “It’s fine. Just go. Stop playing the martyr.” I didn’t say another word. I picked up the bowl and walked out. “Where are you going?” “To file a complaint.” Carrying that bowl of slop—worse than pig feed—I marched downstairs. As I approached the kitchen door on the first floor, I heard laughter, the sharp click of cards, and the rich, pungent scent of a catered hot meal wafting out. Unbelievable. The master eats cold slop while the staff hosts a party? I kicked the kitchen door open. The three housekeepers huddled around the table, their mouths slick with grease, nearly jumped out of their skin. The head cook, Doris, saw me and snorted, spitting a grape skin. “Well, look at the new Mrs. Kessler. Hungry? There’s some leftover dishwater in the pot. You can serve yourself—” “Splat!” I didn’t wait for her to finish. I backhanded the bowl of cold pastas onto the center of the poker table. Broth splattered everywhere. A long, yellow piece of congealed vegetable clung to Doris’s cheek. The room went dead silent. “Are you crazy?!” Doris shrieked, jumping up. “You backwoods—” “I am backwoods, but I know this much: you take the money, you do the job,” I cut her off. I grabbed the heavy meat cleaver off the cutting board and brought it down hard onto the corner of the table. It sank deep into the wood. The handle still vibrated. All three faces drained of color. Doris swallowed her next insult. I yanked the cleaver out, my voice flat and cold. “I don’t care what the old rules were here. I’m here now, and the rules change.” “That man upstairs? He’s my money tree. You feed him trash, you’re trying to starve my future.” “And messing with my money… is worse than killing my family. Got it?” My eyes were hard, the reflected light off the cleaver’s blade glinting. The sheer, unrefined menace I’d learned from decades of living under the threat of violence was now fully deployed. No one spoke. Doris’s legs were shaking. “Make him a pot of rice congee, slow-cooked. The best shrimp and dried scallops you have. It needs to be upstairs in half an hour,” I tossed the cleaver back onto the board. “Do it wrong, and I’ll make you taste that cold pasta slop.” Without another glance at the three bullies, I turned and went back upstairs. Returning to the room, Gideon was in the same position. Seeing me empty-handed, his eyes were full of scorn. “Get chased off already?” I didn’t answer. I walked over, bent down, and crossed my arms beneath his armpits and under his knees. Gideon’s eyes widened. “What are you doing? Don’t touch me!” “Ah!” Following his startled shout, I inhaled, centered my weight, and—with the strength of a woman who’d spent two decades hauling pig feed and firewood—lifted him, blanket and all, off the wheelchair. “Let go of me! Maisie Shaw! I will kill you!” Gideon’s face was crimson with rage as he struggled violently in my arms.

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On New Year’s Eve, I ran into Steven Constantini at an upscale restaurant near the office. I was there late, closing a deal. He was there with his secretary, enjoying a candlelight dinner. Our eyes met across the room. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deep frown—a silent warning. As I choked down glass after glass of wine I couldn’t refuse, enduring the predatory gaze of my client, the night sky outside suddenly exploded with the New Year’s fireworks he’d arranged just for her. The brilliant flashes reflected in my eyes, searing my heart. After finally securing the last contract of the year, I calmly made a phone call. “Mom, I’ve agreed to break up with him. Please arrange for me to go abroad next week.” 1 I walked aimlessly down the street, still on the phone. The last night of the year was exceptionally cold. A freezing rain fell, and the wind cut straight to the bone. The midnight bells began to chime, followed by cheers from the passersby. I looked up and saw a line of text scrolling across the massive screen of the Constantini Industries headquarters. “To the most beautiful and capable rising star at Constantini Industries, Lyla. Happy New Year.” Even on the first day of the new year, her name was inescapable. The envious murmurs of the crowd carried through the phone. My mother’s voice was laced with fury. “That’s outrageous! I’m going to have a word with Arthur.” “Don’t bother, Mom. I’m leaving anyway.” I ended the call, my voice flat. The crushing weight in my chest wasn’t as suffocating as it used to be. But seeing the two-hour wait time on the rideshare app sent a spike of irritation through me. A jarring honk broke the night’s quiet. Steven’s car was shadowing me, keeping a steady, close distance. Lyla leaned out from the passenger seat, waving enthusiastically. “Josie! Are you heading home?” “Yes,” I answered evenly. She let out an exaggerated sigh of pity, practically melting against Steven. “Oh, the wait for a ride tonight is going to be ages. We’re going your way, but it’s such a shame Steven bought me so many gifts. The back seat is completely full, otherwise we could have given you a lift.” I stopped and peered through the car window. I could just make out a massive bouquet of flowers occupying most of the back seat. Before I could get a better look, a suit jacket was thrown hard against my face. I caught it instinctively as Steven’s sneer cut through the air. “Cover up that reek of alcohol. It’s disgusting. I don’t want you getting a complaint filed against the company because you stunk up someone’s car.” The heavy fabric of the jacket stung my cheek. I watched his taillights disappear down the street. Then, I took the jacket—the one I had personally ironed for him, now carrying the scent of another woman—and tossed it into a nearby clothing donation bin. It was three hours later when I finally got home. The house was brightly lit but empty. He must have gone out again. I thought I was used to it. But when the steam from the hot shower fogged up the bathroom mirror, revealing the ghost of two handprints, pressed intimately together, the alcohol in my stomach churned violently. I retched, a bitter mix of bile and tears. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, the sky was beginning to lighten. Two unread messages were on my phone. One was a flight confirmation. The other was from Steven. 【Something came up. Not coming home.】 I scrolled up. Our conversations over the past year were practically nonexistent. Mostly just his terse, two-word reply of “I’m busy” after I’d left a storm of hysterical, unanswered calls. I opened Lyla’s social media, a familiar, masochistic ritual. As always, a perfectly curated nine-photo grid greeted me. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses, the New Year’s fireworks… and in the center, a mirror selfie of her and Steven in a tight embrace. I recognized the place. It was Steven’s property on the west side of the city. In the corner of the mirror, I could see the Zootopia sticker we’d brought back from a movie date. It was now soaked through, a limp, pathetic smear against the glass. Utterly sickening. Steven didn’t come home for the next few days. The housekeeper was on holiday, leaving me to drift through the vast, empty house like a ghost. Only the timely arrival of takeout deliveries reminded me that time was still passing. Cajun shrimp, Szechuan noodles, ghost pepper wings… When the fifth spicy takeout box appeared on the table, I finally snapped. I swept everything into the trash, took a picture, and sent it to Steven. 【Stop ordering. I’m not the one who likes spicy food.】 His call came almost immediately. His voice was a husky, post-coital rasp, laced with annoyance. “Are you pulling that hunger strike nonsense again? Fine. Just don’t call me when you end up back in the hospital.” Lyla’s playful, conciliatory voice chirped in the background. “You should just try it, Josie! Steven and I tasted them all, they’re super delicious!” “Ignore her,” Steven grumbled. “She can eat it or not.” I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to ask the humiliating question. Steven, you remember I have stomach problems and need to eat regular meals. Do you also remember it was spicy food that put me in the hospital in the first place? The words died in my throat. All I managed to say was, “I’ll order my own food.” “Hah, order your own?” he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain before he scoffed. “Josie, you don’t want food. You just want money, don’t you?” 2 “Josie, you and your mother are only after my family’s money, aren’t you?” The mocking voice from a year ago merged with the present, hitting me with the same devastating force. A tear splashed onto the dining table. When I came back to myself, the line was dead. A bank notification showed a transfer of fifteen thousand dollars. It was followed by a voice message from Steven. “Five thousand for food, ten thousand for your trouble. Lyla’s bra strap fell into the sofa cushion. Find it and bring it to her at work on Monday.” I moved the couple’s throw pillows from the sofa and found the black strap tucked deep in the crevice. Steven and I had picked out this sofa together at a furniture store. I had fallen in love with it the moment I saw it. He had tested its firmness and grinned in agreement. “Perfect size. We should get a couple of throw pillows, too. Make it a little more… comfortable for us.” The words of lovers in their honeymoon phase, always tinged with a playful heat. I had playfully scolded him, and he had just laughed. We went on like that, picking out one piece after another, building the home of our dreams. But now, looking at the things I had so carefully chosen, sharing the same space with him and another woman… all I felt was a deep, nauseating revulsion. Since I was leaving, I might as well throw it all away. I worked from dawn until dusk. Eight years of a relationship, reduced to five boxes of junk and a single suitcase. After confirming that not a single trace of me was left in the house, the knot in my stomach finally began to loosen. Only one thing remained. I took a photo album from the bedside drawer. Inside were two hundred and seventy-nine pictures, each one torn to pieces and then painstakingly taped back together. From our high school graduation, through college, to moving in together and starting our careers, the photos chronicled our entire youth together. The last picture was from New Year’s Eve last year. We were raising our glasses under a sky full of fireworks, celebrating our seventh anniversary. Three days after that photo was taken, at a family dinner, my widowed mother and Steven’s divorced father announced they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Steven’s expression never changed. He agreed. I was happy for them. But when we got back to our apartment, he tore that last photo to shreds and threw it in my face. “Josie, you and your mother are just alike. You’re parasites, just after our money. ‘Bringing the families closer’? Don’t make me sick.” I stood there, stunned and helpless, as he unleashed his fury. We had both learned the news at the same time. I thought he had genuinely accepted it. I took out every single photo. Along the carefully taped seams, I tore them apart again. Then I threw them all into the boxes of junk. 3 The next time I saw Steven was at the first morning meeting after the holiday break. He sat at the head of the table, with Lyla perched beside him, whispering and laughing intimately in his ear. Our relationship was a secret at the office. In the past, to avoid suspicion, the most intimate we ever got was a shared, knowing smile across the room. My gaze fell on his hands, resting on the table. On the middle finger of his left hand, where a simple silver band—the match to my necklace—should have been, was now a gold ring set with a green diamond. A brilliant, flashy couple’s ring, identical to the one on Lyla’s hand. A gentle nudge from my colleague brought me back. “Don’t feel bad, Josie,” she whispered sympathetically. “We all know what kind of tricks she used to get where she is. You’re the real top seller in our hearts.” Her words made me look up at the screen in a daze. Today’s meeting was the annual review. The number one spot for sales performance was proudly displayed with Lyla’s name—someone who wasn’t even in our department. A single project had knocked my twenty-seven deals down to second place. Steven’s explanation was that the profit from that one project far exceeded the others. But that was the project I had stayed late on New Year’s Eve to close. The contract I had placed on his desk this morning, along with the bra strap. He had seen it with his own eyes. He knew exactly what I’d had to endure to get that signature. My pen slipped, tearing a gash across the paper. The sound was jarringly loud in the tense silence of the room. After the meeting, Steven called me into his office. We stood in stubborn silence, neither of us willing to speak first. Steven’s face grew darker by the second. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, the ring on his finger flashing, making my eyes ache. I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Is there something you need?” “Don’t you have anything to ask me?” Our voices overlapped. I paused, then laughed. Ask him what? Why he stayed out all night on our anniversary? Why he gave my project to someone else? Or how much longer he intended for us to torture each other? None of it mattered to me anymore. My resignation letter, submitted to HR yesterday, had been specially approved by his father, bypassing him completely. My last day was today. My luggage was already packed in the trunk of my car. I could drive straight to the airport after work. I continued calmly, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” Steven stared at me, his expression grim. “Where’s my gift?” It took me a second to realize he was talking about my anniversary gift. We always made each other something by hand. With the way things had been, I assumed it was an unspoken agreement to skip it this year. “I forgot,” I said, offering a weak excuse. His face hardened, and he yanked at his tie in frustration. “Josie, can’t you have a little empathy? Isn’t the money I give you enough? Do you really have to make a scene over this?” “Lyla is all alone in this city. I spent New Year’s with her out of basic human decency from the company. And she needs that bonus more than you do.” He paused, then added awkwardly, “If you really want the bonus that badly, I can just give it to you.” With one sentence, he invalidated all my hard work. After our fight last year, I had thrown myself into my job, working insane hours, pulling six-figure commissions for months on end. I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t after his family’s money, that I could make more than enough on my own. But I still remembered the condescending look on his face back then. “That money,” he had said, “didn’t it all come from my family in the end?” Afraid of seeing that same contemptuous expression again, I just shook my head. “No, thank you. Is there anything else?” He made a frustrated sound, almost a growl. “No.” 4 As I was about to leave, a red string bracelet was tossed from behind the desk, landing by my feet. “If you don’t like it, just throw it away.” Steven’s voice was flat, a strange mix of offering and command. I looked down. The red string was clumsily woven, not particularly attractive, with a single, rather stingy-looking gold bead strung on it. It really wasn’t something to like. But I didn’t want any more complications. I bent down and picked it up. “Got it.” Tossing it in the trash outside would be just as easy. The moment I opened the door, I saw Lyla pretending to be busy but secretly watching the office. She greeted me with a sweet smile. “Josie, did you and Steven fight because of me? I’m so sorry. I just mentioned offhandedly that I wanted that project, I never thought he’d actually give it to me.” Her eyes flickered to the bracelet in my hand. Her smile froze for a split second before returning. “I was wondering why Steven was being so cheap, taking back the little gold bead that came with our rings. So it was a peace offering for you.” “When we bought the rings, the salesgirl said this little bead was a part of our love story. I guess it’s fitting that he gave it to you.” “Lyla!” Steven’s flustered voice came from inside before I could say a word. Lyla fluffed her hair, casually revealing her own large gold ring. “Steven’s calling me. I’ve got to go!” As the door clicked shut, I took the simple silver-band necklace from around my neck and threw it, along with the red string bracelet, into the nearest trash can. When I got back to my department, the acrid smell of spicy food hit me. An HR representative was awkwardly handing out afternoon snacks, and everyone looked less than thrilled. “What’s going on?” My team members swarmed me, finally having someone to complain to. “Josie, isn’t she just trying to piss us off?” I followed her gaze to the snacks on the table: extra-spicy snacks and double-sugar milk tea. And then I saw Lyla’s message in the group chat. “Mr. Constantini said the top seller gets to choose the celebration snacks, so I just ordered what I like. Don’t be so bland, everyone. Life is better with a little extra spice and sweetness.” No wonder everyone looked miserable. Our department worked the most overtime. A few bites of this, and half the team would be sick. “Throw it all out,” I announced. “Whatever you guys want for an afternoon snack, it’s on me.” “Josie for president!” I smiled as they cheered. I was going to miss my colleagues more than I would ever miss Steven. We had worked together for five or six years. I couldn’t tell them I was leaving, so this would have to be my farewell. As soon as the workday ended, my mother called. She asked if I had told Steven I was leaving. I said no and made her promise that if he asked where I was, she would say she didn’t know. I could hear Arthur’s apologetic voice in the background. “Josie, my dear, it’s Steven who has wronged you. I apologize on his behalf. Please don’t blame him. The boy is not having an easy time either.” Don’t blame him? I couldn’t. Steven and I were in the same class for all three years of high school. My mother was our homeroom teacher. Back then, the Constantini family wasn’t wealthy yet. Arthur was always busy chasing deals, and Steven was a problem student at the bottom of the class. I remember after a parent-teacher conference in our first year, Steven had a huge fight with his mother in the hallway. “To Dad, all you say is ‘take care of yourself.’ To me, it’s just ‘study hard.’ What else do you do besides laundry and cooking? You’re useless! If you can’t help, can you just shut up with all your pointless nagging?” Later that day, on her way home, his mother was in a car accident. She died at the scene. My mother, afraid he would spiral, took him into our home to live with us. I could understand Steven’s guilt and his inability to accept his mother’s death. But this past year… who had it been easy for? When Arthur and my mother decided to separate because of his cold ridicule, he sent them off to live abroad. When I tried to break up with him, he pointed his finger in my face and sneered, “What? Your mom took your place gold-digging in my family, so now you get to walk away scot-free? Don’t think it’s that easy.” Over the past year, any sympathy I had for him had been worn down to nothing. Tap, tap, tap. A knocking on my car window startled me. I turned to see Steven, his mouth moving. His voice was muffled through the glass. “My car’s in the shop. We’ll ride home together for the next few days.” 5 I rolled down the window, frowning at him. In the past, we would carefully avoid our colleagues every day, meeting in the parking garage to drive home together. But this past year, let alone driving together, he had barely even come home. Seeing my lack of response, Steven leaned on the window frame, his eyes meeting mine. “I said, we’re going home together for the next few days.” “You have more than one car.” My refusal was instinctive. My flight was at ten, my luggage was in the trunk. I had no time to play games with him. “Is it out of your way?” Steven’s brow furrowed, a questioning look in his eyes. “Or are you not going home? Where else would you be going?” Defeated, I unlocked the doors. “Let’s get something to eat first.” “I’m starving too. How about that hot pot place near the old campus?” His casual suggestion surprised me, but it worked in my favor. It was close to the airport, making my escape easier. The drive was silent, except for the rhythmic drumming of the rain. I was plotting my getaway while Steven, in the passenger seat, seemed to start and stop several sentences. Finally, he said carefully, “About the gold bead on the bracelet, that’s not what I meant. It was—” A flurry of message notifications interrupted him, followed by a shrill ringtone. The moment I saw the caller ID, I flicked on my hazard lights. Boldly displayed on his screen were the words “Little Josie.” He answered, and Lyla’s tearful voice came through the phone. “Steven, sniff, the elevators in the building are broken, and now I’m all alone in the office. I’m so scared.” It was just past seven. Most of our department was still at work. And the elevators at Constantini Industries had weekly maintenance checks. But of course, Steven believed her ridiculously flimsy lie. “It’s okay, don’t worry. Wait for me in the office, I’m coming back to get you right now.” By the time Steven hung up, I had already thoughtfully pulled over and unlocked the doors. “You should go.” “What do you mean? You’re not coming with me?” His eyes flashed with anger. We were already almost in the suburbs. If I went back to the city with him, I would definitely miss my flight. “I’m hungry.” “Fine, Josie! You’re really something else!” With a slam of the door, Steven was out of the car and yanking open the driver’s side. “Lyla’s in a real panic. I need the car. You can grab a ride home after you eat, or wait for me to come pick you up after I’m done.” The airport was only ten minutes away. The only downside was the rain. I quickly ran through the contents of my suitcase in my head—just clothes, all my important documents were in my purse. I let him take the car. As my flight was about to take off, my phone buzzed incessantly. “Are you home?” “Did you eat? Want me to bring you back a takeout box?” “I was hungry, so I got my own.” Attached was a picture of two takeout containers of hot pot. Just as the phone started ringing, the flight attendant announced that all electronic devices needed to be turned off. I blocked his number, switched to airplane mode, put on my eye mask, and slept soundly all the way to a new country. … 6 Meanwhile, Steven stared at the unanswered call, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

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After overtime, my boyfriend drove me home. But his little assistant walked right past me and sat directly in the passenger seat. “Director Tessa, I adjusted this seat to my height. I was afraid you wouldn’t be used to it.” She apologized while buckling herself in. I didn’t speak, just glanced lightly at the back seat, piled high with a young girl’s bags and clothes. Sensing the atmosphere was off, Lucas tried to smooth things over. “She’s a new intern, just a kid. Don’t be petty with her.” I nodded thoughtfully, a hint of realization in my tone. “How can a child come out to work? Go to HR tomorrow and process her resignation.” Chapter 1 As soon as these words came out, both of them looked at me in unison. The little assistant huffed and got out of the passenger seat. “Director Tessa, I’m a Management Trainee officially hired this year. What right do you have to fire me just like that?” “It’s just sitting in the passenger seat. Are you that petty?” Looking at her flustered appearance, I couldn’t help but find it funny. “So you do know the passenger seat isn’t where you should be. I thought you were really just a child who didn’t know anything.” Indeed, she had a child’s temper. Blowing up after just two sentences, face flushing red, unable to squeeze out a word of rebuttal for a long time. Lucas finally reacted, smiling and putting his arm around my shoulder to mediate. “Mia is just my assistant, a kid fresh out of college. She can’t understand when you’re joking.” When he hugged me, there was a smell of very cheap perfume on him. I guessed the owner of the perfume was Mia, who was currently clenching her hands tightly, staring at us through the rearview mirror. I leaned against Lucas with a smile, but my eyes scanned Mia up and down. “But I wasn’t joking. Do you really need an assistant like this? No wonder you work overtime every day.” Hearing this, Lucas’s body stiffened for a moment, and his smile faltered. “Tessa, Mia is a bit rash, but if you fire her directly, people will say we treat new employees harshly. It doesn’t sound good.” Saying that, he signaled Mia with his eyes. Mia, who was still puffing up with anger, immediately softened her attitude and apologized to me pitifully. “Sorry Director Tessa, I’ve been with Brother Lucas for so long, I got too relaxed. I’ll give the seat back to you, please don’t mind.” She even stuck out her tongue playfully. Director Tessa, Brother Lucas. Tsk. Seeing no reaction from me, Mia seemed possessed by a drama queen. “Director Tessa, I will definitely, definitely, definitely pay attention next time~” Every sentence addressed “Director Tessa,” but her eyes only revolved around Lucas. I withdrew from Lucas’s arm and looked at Mia. “Next time? What do you want to pay attention to next time? Tell me.” Chapter 2 “Tessa, it’s late. Let me take you home.” Lucas spoke again. Every time he opened his mouth tonight, it was to defend Mia. This made me very unhappy. It’s true we agreed to have our own fun in this arranged marriage, but who allowed you to dance in front of me with your little lover and use me as a shield? Mia didn’t notice the undercurrent between us and spoke again. “Brother Lucas, I’ll go with you to drop Director Tessa off. It’s too late, I’m afraid you’ll be tired driving at night. I can keep you company.” “Keep him company? Miss Mia is such a thoughtful assistant. Brother Lucas, don’t you think?” I smiled and pulled Lucas’s tie. Caught off guard, he staggered towards me. He held my wrist pulling his tie, not too hard nor too light, with a hint of helplessness. “Mia, take a taxi back tonight, okay? Tessa and I have something to handle.” Mia caught the gentleness in Lucas’s tone and saw the seemingly intimate but actually confrontational posture between us. She bit her lip. “Is Director Tessa unhappy because of me? If so, I can apologize until she cools down.” I interrupted her performance, pointing to the pile of personal items in the back seat. “Save the apology for HR tomorrow. Now, pick up all your stuff, or wait to find them in the trash tomorrow.” “Hey! Aren’t you deliberately making things difficult for me? How can I take all these things?” Angry now, not even calling me Director Tessa anymore. I ignored her, picking up those clothes with two fingers and throwing them out one by one. Mia couldn’t pick them up in time and screamed in breakdown: “What do you want!” “I should be asking you that, right? Don’t you have a closet at home? Need to keep everything in your boss’s car?” “Don’t overthink it! I just left them temporarily when I was out on field work with Brother Lucas and forgot to take them.” She was a bit guilty, lacking confidence in her speech. I couldn’t be bothered to expose her, just smiling at her. “Perfect then. Today is the last day of ‘temporary’.” Mia’s eyes turned red instantly. She glared at me fiercely, almost diving into the back seat, scrambling to hug those bags and clothes, stuffing them into her arms. Too many things, she couldn’t hold them steady. A shiny hair clip fell to the ground. She squatted to pick it up, hair falling to cover her face, but I could see her shoulders trembling gently. After picking up her things, she left without looking back. Chapter 3 As Mia’s figure faded into the distance, only the two of us remained in the car. Silence reigned for a long time until Lucas finally couldn’t help but speak. “Mia is just a young girl after all, thin-skinned. You went a bit too far today.” I was leaning back with my eyes closed, resting. Hearing this, I sneered. “Her face matters, but my rules don’t?” Lucas tugged at his tie irritably. “Don’t push your luck. You know we…” He didn’t finish, but I knew what he meant. We were in a commercial marriage, the kind where we hadn’t even met before the engagement. No feelings whatsoever. Both our families’ companies had been declining in recent years and urgently needed transformation. Marriage meant we would prosper or decline together. We were the closest partners. The first time Lucas saw me, he said that for a commercial marriage, keeping up appearances was enough. I nodded lightly and stated my bottom line: “Since we’re married, we must maximize the value of this engagement. I accept playing separately, but if you make outsiders laugh because of private affairs, don’t blame me for turning hostile.” Lucas laughed indifferently: “As long as you have this awareness. Don’t worry, no matter how many flags flutter outside, they won’t be an eyesore to you.” Guessing he remembered his bold words back then, he spoke dryly after a long while. “I will make it clear to Mia.” “Good.” I closed my eyes again. “But my patience is like this passenger seat. There is only one. You’d better remember that.” Chapter 4 Our communication wasn’t pleasant, and coupled with busy work, we hadn’t seen each other for over half a month. Tonight there was a meeting with Mr. Sterling, the Chairman. Lucas sent someone to deliver a gown matching his suit. Mr. Sterling was a key figure both our companies wanted to win over. Half of the commercial value of this marriage depended on this. Lucas and I stood side by side, exchanging pleasantries with Mr. Sterling. Just as the conversation cut to the main topic, a figure inserted itself abruptly. It was Mia. Perhaps it was her first time attending such a cocktail party. exquisite makeup couldn’t hide the forced composure. The ill-fitting white dress made her look like a little girl stealing adult clothes. I narrowed my eyes slightly. In her glass, it seemed to be… juice? She trotted over in high heels, target clear: Mr. Sterling. “Hello Chairman Sterling! I’m Mia, a Management Trainee specially recruited this year. Just joined Mr. Lucas’s team not long ago. Please guide me in the future!” Mia held the cup with both hands, squeezing out what she thought was the most decent and obedient smile. I could clearly feel she emphasized “Mr. Lucas” and “Specially Recruited,” tone rising slightly, with undetectable showing off. In such an occasion, an intern introducing herself so abruptly and trying to chat was simply rude. The scene quieted for a second. Mia was oblivious, perhaps taking the silence as encouragement. She raised the orange juice in her hand, smile sweeter, voice crisp: “Chairman Sterling, I’m young and can’t drink, so I’ll toast you with this juice! Wishing you good health and prosperous business!” This time, even the surrounding conversations seemed to lower. The gazes of several nearby guests swept over subtly. I had no time to care about Lucas’s expression. I was so angry I wanted to kick Mia myself. What is your status? What is Mr. Sterling’s status? Toasting with juice? Do you deserve it? Lucas pulled Mia, who was still naively waiting for Mr. Sterling to clink glasses, behind him. He picked up a glass of champagne, squeezing out a near-fawning smile. “Sorry Chairman Sterling, I didn’t discipline my subordinate well. I apologize on her behalf with this glass.” He drank the champagne in one gulp, but Mr. Sterling didn’t even lift his eyelids. “Let’s talk about the cooperation another day. I have something to do.” Mia simply slapped his face in front of everyone. Mr. Sterling left the venue with his subordinates without even saying goodbye, leaving only his back to us. Lucas’s arm holding the glass froze in mid-air, face turning from green to white, then flushing with embarrassment.

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