Category: English

My last life ended with my wife’s lie. She painted me as a serial killer, and no matter how I screamed my innocence, the world wouldn’t listen. The victims’ families took their revenge on my own, an eye for an eye, their methods brutal and absolute. Some were tortured, others vanished without a trace. And I was trapped behind bars, powerless to stop any of it. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the day my wife was supposed to walk into the police station and ruin my life. After calling in an anonymous tip to the police that someone would die today, I tried to investigate why my wife would frame me, only to find she had vanished into thin air. But on my way home, I saw it: a bank, surrounded, a robbery in progress. And a spark of an idea lit up my mind. “That’s right,” I said to the officer. “I’m volunteering. I’ll take the pregnant woman’s place as a hostage.” … The police negotiator stared at me for a few seconds, his mind catching up. “You know the guy in there has a makeshift gun, right? This is real. You could actually die!” There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by genuine concern. He was worried I didn’t grasp the stakes, that I’d back down once reality hit. I just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If I die, just give me a ‘Good Samaritan’ award or something.” I’d already died once, a humiliating, suffocating end. This time, I wasn’t asking for a blaze of glory. I just wanted a death—if it came to that—that wasn’t tied to the label of a monster. An end that wouldn’t drag my family down into hell with me. That was enough. “Alright. We’ll make the most of this opportunity. Please, try not to be nervous.” The negotiator spoke with grave intensity as he strapped a bulletproof vest onto me. It was my first time wearing one; the novelty of it was so strange I almost felt like I was at a cosplay convention. While the police team radioed the robber inside the bank, I waited in the wings. “No way! If it’s a woman, you send in another woman to swap!” the robber’s voice crackled through their speaker. “This guy’s obviously one of your undercover cops!” I had to roll my eyes. Seriously? With my slender build, you could hardly compare me to a trained officer. “Quit wasting time,” I yelled, stepping past the line of police and into the open space between them and the bank. “Watch closely!” Then, I started shedding clothes, one piece at a time. My jacket, the vest, my wool sweater, my pants, my socks, even my leather shoes hit the pavement until I was standing there in nothing but a pair of boxers. “Is this good enough for you, buddy?” I shouted, then turned to the nearest officer and presented my wrists. “Cuff me.” The move left everyone—robbers and cops alike—speechless. “That woman is about to give birth,” I projected my voice towards the bank. “Think about it. Why would she be at a bank instead of a hospital? Because she’s got no one to help her. Her life is already hard enough, and she’s been fighting for that baby. Are you really going to be the ones who let her die because you won’t make a simple trade?” I took two steps forward. The robber inside didn’t react. Dressed like this, who could possibly suspect me of being a threat? “I’m carrying nothing. The cuffs are real and they’re tight. And hey, if I were an undercover cop, you should be happy! That would mean you have a cop as a hostage. They’d have to be even more careful with you then, right?” I kept pushing, the tension in the air so thick you could taste it. Everyone was holding their breath. If this didn’t work, nothing would. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, the robber’s voice came back. “Get in here. Hands up. No funny business!” A wave of relief washed over me so powerful I could have sprinted inside. In just a few more hours, the murder from my past life would be committed. And soon after, my dear wife, Eliza, would go to the police with her web of lies. They would find the supposed murder weapon in my home, covered in my DNA. They would find a witness who swore they saw me near the crime scene. They would even produce a seamless chain of security footage tracking my every move from my front door to the alley where the body was found. This time, I was going to forge an alibi so ironclad it would shatter every single one of those lies. As I entered the bank, they were letting the pregnant woman go. She was trembling, but she kept looking back at me, whispering her thanks. “You’re a good man. Thank you!” “If you really want to thank me,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “then help me out after this is all over.” She froze, confused. She had no idea what I was asking for. But I knew that soon enough, she would. “Get in here, you!” The robber was cautious, keeping to the blind spots where the snipers outside couldn’t get a clean shot. The moment I was dragged inside, something hard slammed against the back of my head. “You’re really not a cop?” I could feel the cold, dark barrel of the gun pressed against my spine. “Really. Check the cuffs yourself, see how real they are.” I struggled against the restraints, and the steel only bit deeper into my wrists. Satisfied, he moved around to face me. He didn’t look like a hardened killer, just a desperate man. He sized me up. “You’re not scared of dying, kid?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “What’s the point? I’d be scared of a meaningless death, but dying to save someone? That’s not meaningless at all.” I shrugged, looking him straight in the eye. He stared at me, dumbfounded. “You talk like you’ve died before,” he finally managed to say. “Let’s see how tough you are when you’re really about to bite it.” “You’re right about one thing,” I said with a long sigh. “I have died once before.” The memory of it, the searing injustice of being executed as the most monstrous serial killer of the century, sent a fresh wave of bitterness through me. “What are you, a lunatic?” he muttered, looking at me strangely. “Get over there and sit down.” I didn’t bother explaining. All I had to do was stay right here, in this bank, until morning. Then, it wouldn’t matter who died tonight. It wouldn’t have anything to do with me. This time, I’d have an army of witnesses. The hours crawled by. Outside, the sky bled from blue to orange to black. The negotiations grew more heated, the standoff stretching to its breaking point. “Cut the crap!” the robber screamed into his phone. “You give me what I want, or I’ll kill one of them right now just to show you I’m not playing!” His nerves were fraying. He was alone, but the other three hostages—all women—were bound together, completely helpless. “Hey, take it easy, man,” I said casually from my corner. “You don’t seem like a bad guy. No need to burn it all down, right?” His eyes snapped to me. He grabbed me by the arm, dragged me to the glass doors of the bank, and shoved me into view of the police and the news cameras. “Listen up!” he bellowed. “I want an armored SUV! You’ve got five minutes to decide. For every minute you’re late, I’m taking one of his legs!” The scene was already being broadcast live by a dozen livestreamers and news crews. The story had gone viral; there was no containing it now. “Wait a second… isn’t that guy in his underwear Leo Shaw? The chairman of Shaw Corp’s son?” “Holy crap, I think it is! I interviewed him once for a business channel!” Hearing the murmurs ripple through the crowd, I finally allowed myself a small smile. That’s right, I thought. Come on, get a good shot of me. Make sure you get my good side. The news spread like wildfire across the internet. The kidnapper, overhearing the commotion, pieced it together. His eyes went wide with a mixture of shock and terror. “You… you’re the son of that billionaire?” He was excited, but also afraid. This could mean a much bigger payday, but it also meant bringing down a whole new level of hell upon himself. I shrugged, feigning indifference. “My name doesn’t change a thing.” Meanwhile, my father had gotten the news. He arrived in a screech of tires, leaping from his car before it had even fully stopped and charging the police cordon. Officers rushed to intercept him. “Sir, you can’t go in there! It’s too dangerous!” a few of them shouted, physically restraining him. “My company pays millions in taxes! We’ve built half this city!” my father roared, his voice raw with panic. “And you let my son walk in there to die? What the hell kind of police work is this?” The officers, understanding his anguish, patiently tried to explain. “Mr. Shaw, your son went in voluntarily. He said he wanted to help. We are doing everything we can to ensure his safety.” My father froze. He knew me, my personality. He couldn’t fathom why I would ever do something like this. Shaking his head, he grabbed a megaphone from a nearby officer and raised it to his lips. “You in the bank, listen to me! Whatever you want, however much money, I’ll give it to you!” he boomed. “Just don’t hurt my son! In fact, let me take his place! I’ll trade myself for him!” A warmth pricked my eyes. In my last life, he was always the first one there, my shield against every storm. This time, I wouldn’t let him suffer for me. Not again. I turned to the robber. “Don’t listen to him!” I said sharply. “Think about it. A father will always save his son. But what son saves his father? You let me out, and I’ll let you do whatever you want with the old man. Then all that inheritance is mine, right?” The robbers exchanged confused glances, stunned by my cold-blooded logic. But the more they thought about it, the more it seemed to make a twisted kind of sense. They refused my father’s offer. Their curiosity got the better of them. Why would a rich kid, who could have anything he wanted, throw himself into a situation like this? It didn’t make sense from any angle. “Are you actually crazy?” one of them finally asked. I couldn’t help but laugh at their expressions. “Not crazy. Just wanted to experience a different kind of life. Look, you’re not here to kill anyone, you just want money. I get it. I’ll cooperate. I’ll even help you get paid.” They looked at each other, still unable to grasp my motives, but they dropped the subject. By now, dozens of online influencers had set up their gear, broadcasting the standoff to hundreds of thousands of viewers. The internet was buzzing with speculation. Why would the heir to the Shaw fortune volunteer as a hostage? Some thought it was a publicity stunt, others a sign of some hidden agenda. But most people saw a hero, someone willing to sacrifice himself for a stranger. Then my mother arrived. When she understood what was happening, she collapsed into tears, her pleas echoing from beyond the police tape. “Please, don’t hurt my boy! We’ll give you anything you want, I’m begging you!” Hearing her voice sent a pang of grief through me. I remembered her horrific death in my past life, a direct result of my conviction, and my resolve hardened. I had to protect her. The police presence outside had swelled, sealing off the entire block. The robber, seeing the growing army of uniforms, started to panic. He made his demand: five million dollars in cash, within the hour, or he’d start shooting. An hour? That wasn’t nearly enough time. I needed to stay here all night. “No!” I shouted. “Don’t give it to them!” The robbers, enraged, moved towards me, ready to strike. “Wait, calm down,” I said quickly. “I’m on your side. Trust me.” They paused, watching me with suspicion as I explained. “You can’t ask for that much cash in an hour. The only way they can get it that fast is with brand new, consecutively numbered bills from the vault. The second you try to spend that money, you’ll be caught. It’s a waste of time.” The robbers looked at each other. He had a point. “Damn, the rich kid is smart,” one of them muttered. “We didn’t think of that. So what do we do?” I pretended to think for a moment. “You need old, used bills. Untraceable. But that takes time to gather. Give them more time. Tell them you want used cash, and you’re willing to wait.” It made perfect sense to them. The leader turned and yelled his new demand to the police outside. “You have three hours! And I want used bills only! If the money’s not here by then, we’re done talking!” I let out a silent breath of relief. Three hours. That should be enough to get me past the critical time frame. Outside, my father comforted my mother. “I’ve already got people getting the cash ready. Don’t worry.” He pulled the lead officer aside. “Do you have a plan?” The officer nodded grimly. “We have an asset on the inside, Mr. Shaw. We can resolve this. And even if that fails, we have contingencies. They aren’t getting away. Our primary job is to ensure the safety of the hostages.” My father’s shoulders sagged with relief. Inside, my cooperation had earned me some trust. The robbers left me untied, telling me to just sit in a corner and stay out of the way. That’s when one of the other hostages, a young woman, crept closer to me. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “I’m going to help you.” I was startled, wondering who she was. But then I saw her hand tense, ready to make a move. “Don’t do it!” I hissed, my voice sharp. My sudden warning made her flinch and pull back, missing her chance to take down the robber nearest to her. When he had moved away, she turned to me, her eyes flashing with anger. “What was that?” For her, it had been a perfect opening. “Just wait for the ransom,” I said, putting on a thoughtful expression. “If you make a move in here, the other hostages could get hurt, right?” My calm reasoning threw her off. She hesitated, unsure. Reluctantly, she settled back to wait. The three hours passed in agonizing slowness. Finally, my father appeared, carrying two large suitcases, escorted by police. The robbers’ eyes lit up, their greed overriding their caution.

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The day before my wedding, I dropped my best man off at his hotel and saw my fiancée, Isabella, checking into a room with her ex-boyfriend. Just ten minutes earlier, she had texted me: “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, my love. Come and take me home.” I swallowed my rage and filmed the video of them kissing in the hallway. The next day, at our wedding, I played it for everyone to see. 1 The moment the video played, the reception hall erupted. Isabella’s younger brother was the first to react, pointing at the event staff and screaming. “What the hell are you people doing? Why would you play a video like this at a wedding?” “How dare you embarrass the Thorne family! Is your company trying to go out of business?” “Where’s your manager? Get them out here…” His voice trailed off as he, along with every other guest, became glued to the screen. I nodded, satisfied. “Everyone,” I announced, “welcome to my breakup party with Isabella Thorne. From this day forward, we are finished. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy.” Realizing she was the star of the show, Isabella rushed toward me, desperate to explain. But I had already dropped the microphone and walked out. The second I stepped outside the hotel, my father’s call came through. I let my phone’s AI assistant handle it. When I’d first told him I was marrying Isabella, he’d been so ecstatic he stayed drunk for three days, bragging to anyone who would listen about how his brilliant son was marrying a wealthy heiress. He would be the last person to accept this wedding being called off. Back at my apartment, the calls from my father were relentless. Annoyed, I finally just pulled the SIM card out of my phone. I tossed my wedding suit in the trash and found the nearest bar. My social media, anything that connected me to Isabella, was blowing up with notifications. But I had a new phone now. I couldn’t see their chaos even if I wanted to. The bar owner saw me and strolled over, a friendly grin on his face. “Flying solo tonight, Leo? Where’s your fiancée?” I glanced over my shoulder, a wry smile on my face. “She’ll be here soon.” A second later, a familiar figure appeared. 2 Isabella was frantically pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes glued to her phone as she scanned the room. A man who had been watching me from a distance a moment before moved toward her. She fought him off, shoving him away. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it left a look of pure resentment on her face as she pushed him aside again and continued her search. The man watched her go, his posture radiating a deep, lonely pain. The bar’s flashing lights obscured his features, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. I assumed he was a friend of Isabella’s who had spotted me and tipped her off. Yet, racking my brain, I couldn’t place him. It was the bar owner who broke my train of thought. “Leo, your fiancée is calling my phone now.” “Your phone’s on, isn’t it? What’s going on? You two have a fight?” I looked up, and he, thinking I wanted to answer, accepted the call. He even helpfully turned it on speaker. Isabella’s voice, frantic and loud, came through the phone. “Leo, honey, I know you’re at a bar. Please just tell me where you are. Give me a chance to explain.” I hung up. The owner stared at me, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to find her? Aren’t you worried about her being out alone?” I glanced back at the spot where the mysterious man had been. He had already vanished back into the crowd. “She’s not my fiancée anymore,” I murmured, my voice hollow. “She doesn’t need me.” 3 It was past two in the morning when I finally stumbled home. I looked up and saw her, Isabella, huddled by my front door. It was always her move after she’d done something wrong. “Leo, I couldn’t find you at the bar, and your phone was off.” “You’ve had so much to drink. You can barely stand.” “Come on, let’s get you inside.” She greeted me with a bright, relieved smile, fussing over me as if nothing had happened. I shoved her away. “Get off me. Don’t touch me!” She froze, her eyes filled with a wounded look. “Honey, it was the wedding company. They were trying to mess with us. The video was a deepfake.” “I’ve already called my lawyer. I’ll find the proof, I promise…” “I filmed it.” My voice was cold as I looked at her. “You couldn’t even wait to get into the room. You were so into that kiss, it’s no surprise you didn’t see me standing right there.” The color drained from her face. She stood rooted to the spot, lost. The alcohol in my stomach churned. I pushed past her, ran to the bathroom, and collapsed over the toilet, heaving until tears streamed from my eyes. Isabella followed me, silently tending to me. She handed me tissues, found the hangover pills, and went to the kitchen to cook me noodles. She didn’t say a word. But every second, the image of her and her ex, desperate for each other outside that hotel room, played on a loop in my head. Seeing her now, so full of care and concern, felt surreal and absurd. “Isabella, I don’t want to see you again. Get out of my apartment.” Suddenly, there was a crash from the kitchen—the sound of a bowl shattering. She was silent for a long moment. Then, she brought out the noodles and the pills, placed them on the table in front of me, and quietly cleaned up the broken porcelain. “Leo, just… take some time to cool off. I’ll come back in a few days, and we can talk.” I was slumped on the sofa, my hand covering my eyes. “Get out.” 4 I didn’t touch the food. I spent the night on the sofa, wrapped in my own arms. Early the next morning, a loud banging rattled the front door. I opened it, and my father stormed in, nearly knocking me over. “Leo! Have you lost your mind?” “Isabella is from a wealthy family! Of course she’s had boyfriends! Once you were married, you would have had everything! You’re going to throw all that away over one little thing?” “All our friends and family were there! How could you humiliate me like that?” My head was pounding. “Dad,” I said weakly, “did you not see the video? She was with her ex, the day before our wedding…” He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t talk to me about that! She’s a fourth-generation heiress! Men are lining up to marry her. This only happened because you couldn’t keep her satisfied! If you were man enough to keep her focused on you, this never would have happened. You were about to marry up, to enter a whole new world, and you just walk away? You’re thirty years old, Leo! Where are you going to find another woman who can do more for you than Isabella?” Hearing those words come from him was no surprise. His greed knew no bounds, especially when it came to rich women. But I had my limits. “Dad, if you love her so much, why don’t you ask her to adopt you?” He sputtered with rage, his hand flying up to slap me. I’d been drinking all night on an empty stomach, and the stress sent a sharp, cramping pain through my gut. I shoved him aside and ran for the bathroom again. Even then, he didn’t stop yelling, telling me I was inflexible, that my lifestyle was unhealthy. But every sentence somehow circled back to Isabella. “She’s beautiful, she’s sophisticated, and her family is top-tier! You couldn’t hold on to her, and now she’ll find someone better looking, more successful, and more open-minded than you! You’ll be left with nothing!” His words echoed down the hall and drilled into my ears. I thought of the heartbroken man at the bar last night. The delayed realization hit me like a sledgehammer, pounding against my chest. “You’re a grown man, and you can’t even clean up after yourself! What are these drops of blood on the floor?” “Only Isabella would put up with you. Any other woman would have burned this place to the ground by now.” I slammed the bathroom door shut and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over my head. I curled into a ball, cocooned in the darkness, and finally let myself sob. 5 My relationship with Isabella didn’t start the way my father thought—me climbing the social ladder, her being a convenient, docile rich girl. We had been together for ten years. We fell in love during a time when my father’s control over my life was at its most suffocating. In our tenth year together, through my own hard work, I had finally bought an apartment and a car in the city where her family lived. I had teased her, “Apartment and car are paid in full. I’ve saved for the wedding, and I even bought you your favorite style of ring. How much longer do I have to wait before you’ll marry me?” She had cupped my face in her hands and kissed me, her love enveloping me. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining. “This year. Let’s get married this year.” “Leo, do you still want to marry me?” I didn’t. I should have said no right then. Isabella, you said I was your present and your future. I was the one who healed your past, the one who brought you peace. I was the one you were supposed to walk down the aisle with. So why? Why, when I was closer to happiness than I had ever been, did you have to go back to him? 6 My father harassed me for days, a cycle of threats and pleading, all aimed at getting me to reconcile with Isabella. When he realized I wasn’t going to budge, he slammed the door and left in a huff. I locked myself in my apartment. No one called. My phone was off. I heard nothing. I lay on my bed like a corpse, utterly lifeless. On Monday, I went back to the office. My colleagues immediately started congratulating me. “The wedding didn’t happen. Sorry,” I said flatly. Their faces shifted from cheerful to awkward. “Oh. That’s… sudden. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Let me buy you a coffee, man, I’m really sorry…” I cut them off with a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over.” The busy morning was a welcome distraction. I went to the breakroom to get some water and overheard a few people whispering. “Why didn’t Leo get married?” “His fiancée is gorgeous and comes from a great family. You think she got cold feet?” “No way. She was crazy about him. She used to bring him different kinds of homemade soup every week to help his stomach problems. When he was hospitalized for that ulcer, she never left his side. She even drove him to and from work for a while after he was discharged. She was completely devoted to him.” “Then what could it be? You don’t think Leo was cheating on her, do you?” “Get out of here! We’ve worked with him for years. He’s capable, responsible, has a great sense of humor but always knows the line. He’s a solid guy.” I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I bought a coffee from the vending machine and went back to my desk. As soon as I sat down, my father called. I ignored it, but then the texts started. “How could you block Isabella? Are you a child?” “Can’t you two just sit down and talk this out like adults?” I read the messages with a detached numbness. I didn’t know how to respond. My entire being felt hollow. By the time I snapped out of it, my father’s number was in my block list. 7 A thunderstorm raged outside, the wind howling. Flashes of lightning illuminated the faces of my colleagues as they rushed to get home. I waited until the office was empty before heading down. I opened my bag and remembered: I never carried an umbrella. For ten years, Isabella had always been the one to remind me. Before I left, she would give me a playful, insistent look until I finally grabbed it. I had gotten so used to following her lead. I trusted her unconditionally. That kind of blind trust is a terrifying thing. I held my briefcase over my head and dashed into the parking garage, only to find my car wouldn’t start. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel in frustration. It had been working fine. In the end, I had no choice but to brave the storm and head for the subway. The moment I stepped out of the garage, I saw her. Isabella, standing in the pouring rain. She saw me and ran over, her voice filled with worry. “Leo, you’re getting soaked! Let’s just go home and we can talk…” “Let go of me!” I ripped my arm from her grasp and stormed off into the downpour. She ran after me, calling my name, trying to shield me from the rain with her small hands. “Leo, I drove here! Please, let me give you a ride!” “You have stomach problems! You’ll get sick if you catch a cold!” “If you won’t get in the car, at least take my umbrella! I’ll worry about you…” “Leave me alone! Stop following me!” I stopped dead in my tracks and screamed at her, all my pent-up frustration and pain exploding out of me. “Just get away from me! GO!” “I never want to see you again! I don’t want to hear another word from you! Do you hear me?” “I will never, ever trust you again! Get out of my life! GET OUT!” I was shaking, my face a mess of rain and tears. My throat was raw, as if I had screamed myself bloody. Why? The day had been so normal. I had closed a deal with a client, I had eaten properly. I had even decided to finally schedule a check-up for my long-neglected stomach issues. I thought I was moving on. Why did the sight of her make me fall apart all over again? The only umbrella we had was knocked from my hand, snatched by the wind and sent tumbling down the street. Isabella’s elegant dress was ruined, plastered to her skin by the rain. We stood there, two pathetic, drenched figures. Despite my furious rejection, she stood as still as a statue, just staring at me. Her lips moved, soundlessly forming my name. Seeing her so broken and lost brought me no relief. It only made the weight on my chest heavier. A few passersby were staring. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wiped the water from my face and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the storm. Back home, after a hot shower, I could already feel a cold coming on, and a dull ache in my stomach. I took some medicine and was about to lie down when my phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. “Leo, you bastard! You blocked your own father?” “I’ve been going out of my mind! Isabella tried to kill herself! She cut her wrists!” “Downtown General, third floor, emergency room! Get your ass over here now!”

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The System finally caught on. I hadn’t broken the male lead. I hadn’t tortured him. Instead, I’d fallen in love with him, and we’d had a child. For that, I was forcibly ejected from the mission world. But now, it’s back. 【Your son is a violent, twisted mess, and he’s blocking the heroine from taking her rightful place.】 The System’s voice echoed in my mind, cold and synthetic. 【You have to fix him. Straighten him out so the main storyline can proceed.】 When I returned, my sweet little boy was gone. In his place stood a cool, defiant teenager. I watched him from a distance, laughing and joking with a classmate. Lying piece of junk, I cursed the System silently. My son is just as sweet as I remember. Then, in a flash, I saw him grab the other boy’s head and slam it into the graffiti-covered wall. Before I could even process the shock, he was standing in front of me, a lazy, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “Hey, beautiful. Can I get your number?” My jaw dropped. Brawling and hitting on girls? I grabbed his ear and twisted. “You little monster! I’m your mother!” 1 It had been three years in the real world since I was torn away. I never thought the System would contact me again. It told me my son, Liam, had become unhinged and violent. Not only was he preventing the designated heroine from taking my place, but he had also hurt her multiple times. I believed the part about him hating her—that I could understand. But hurting her? I had my doubts. When I left, he was only five. A tiny, sweet-faced boy. The heroine had already made her appearance back then. What could a five-year-old possibly do to a grown woman? “I’ll go back,” I told the System, my voice firm. “But on one condition. I get to stay there. Permanently.” A long, crackling silence followed before it finally conceded, with a single, unbending rule: I was forbidden from interfering with the love story between the male and female leads. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Twelve years had passed in this world. A stack of high school textbooks sat on the desk in front of me. I fumbled inside the desk, my fingers closing around a small compact mirror. The face staring back was young, fresh, and completely unfamiliar. I forced a smile. “System, can’t you just make me a teacher? It would be so much easier to get the mission done.” The System’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 【Oh, I’m sure. Easier to complete the mission, or easier to seduce the male lead again?】 【I’m warning you,】 it continued, 【Don’t even think about it. Ethan belongs to the heroine.】 I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to remind me. I’m over him.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He’d only married me back then because of our son, out of a stubborn sense of duty. He’d never once said he loved me. Whatever fledgling feelings might have been there were surely eroded by twelve years of absence. My only focus now was my son. The System informed me he was on the basketball court, and my heart hammered with excitement as I rushed over. I couldn’t wait to see what my clingy, adorable little boy had grown into. I spotted him before I even set foot on the court, a tall, impossibly cool teenager who commanded attention without trying. His handsome face was a perfect echo of my own, especially his eyes. Recognition hit me like a tidal wave. A swell of pride filled my chest. “See, System? Look how gorgeous my son is. I make good-looking kids.” I watched him walk over to a classmate, gently adjusting the boy’s collar. “And he’s so kind to his friends. You see? He’s not violent at all.” The next second, I watched Liam grab that same classmate by the back of the head and smash his face into the graffiti-splattered wall. The System’s voice was dry. 【Right. So very ‘kind.’】 2 I stood frozen, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me. By the time I snapped out of it, Liam was standing right in front of me, radiating pure bad-boy energy. “Hey, beautiful. Can I get your number?” My mind short-circuited. Fistfights and now flirting? Without a second thought, I grabbed his ear and gave it a sharp twist. “You little monster! I’m your mother!” His face contorted in a pained grimace as he wrenched his ear free. “You’re crazy. Get help.” “Speaking of help,” I shot back, undeterred, “you’ve got a little birthmark on your left butt cheek. I used to draw a flower around it and take pictures. I’m sure you’ve seen them.” Liam’s expression shifted from annoyance to stunned disbelief. “Who the hell are you?” I sighed, letting my shoulders slump. “I really am your mom. Ever hear of time travel? That’s me. I’ve jumped forward from the past.” I held up my hands. “I know it sounds insane, but I’m not lying.” His eyes, a complex storm of emotions, stared at me for a long moment before he turned and walked away. I reached for him. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped, batting my hand away. The rejection stung. I stood motionless, watching his retreating back. He might believe me, but my sudden disappearance all those years ago had clearly left a deep wound. But time was on my side now. I would spend the rest of my life healing that wound. I made my way to the nurse’s office and found the student Liam had assaulted. His forehead was freshly bandaged. I took the opportunity to ask him what the fight was about. It turned out he’d accidentally knocked a cheap, childish-looking watch out of Liam’s hand and stepped on it. My breath caught. It had to be the Disney watch I’d given him for his fifth birthday. It was the last gift I ever gave him. To think he’d treasured it for over a decade… a lump formed in my throat. I paid for the student’s medical expenses and apologized profusely on Liam’s behalf. Once I was sure he wasn’t seriously hurt and wouldn’t press charges, I headed back to class. 3 The System had assigned me the identity of a new transfer student in her senior year, in a different class from Liam. After talking to a few classmates, I quickly learned that my son was the school’s reigning bad boy. Skipping class and getting into fights were his trademarks, and even the teachers were too scared to rein him in. “What about his father? Doesn’t he do anything?” I asked a girl sitting near me. “Ethan? Rumor is, he spoils Liam rotten. Lets him do whatever he wants.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I also heard Ethan has this woman he’s been seeing for over ten years, his old flame or something. But because Liam can’t stand her, they’ve never made it official.” Spoils him? That didn’t sound like Ethan at all. The Ethan I knew was a strict, almost unyielding father. He’d started Liam on multilingual lessons and all sorts of skill-based training courses before he was even in kindergarten. Whenever Liam came crying to me, begging for a break, Ethan would just lecture him. We fought constantly over how to raise our son. Well, I fought. He would just listen quietly and then do exactly what he’d planned anyway. A few times, I got so fed up I packed a bag for myself and Liam and stormed out. He’d just assume we were out for a little trip and come pick us up a day later without a hint of remorse. Had my disappearance changed him that much? If so, I was going to give him a piece of my mind. Veering from one extreme of parenting to the other—from iron-fisted discipline to total neglect—was just reckless. After school, I went to the mall and picked out a new, sleek watch for Liam. I spent all of the next day at school looking for him, but he never showed up. That evening, the System finally informed me that he’d gone off with a group of street racers to ride motorcycles. My head spun. He didn’t even have a driver’s license! What was he thinking? I rushed to the spot they used for their races, a winding mountain road, and arrived just as one race was ending. A chorus of cheers erupted as Liam was swarmed by a celebratory crowd. He pulled out a wad of cash and threw it into the air, sending everyone scrambling. I nearly ground my teeth to dust. Little brat. Then, a girl with a face full of filler slinked up to him, pressing the cigarette she’d been smoking to his lips. Liam, without a hint of disgust, leaned in to take a drag from her hand. 4 I finally pushed my way through the crowd and smacked the cigarette from the girl’s hand. “This isn’t for you,” I said, grabbing Liam’s wrist. “We’re going home.” He seemed dazed for a moment, letting me pull him a few steps before he came to his senses. “What are you doing here?” “Trying to keep you from getting yourself killed,” I hissed. The System had warned me about this group. A few of them had criminal records, including a heavily tattooed guy named Marco who had it out for Liam. He’d already tampered with Liam’s bike, planning to make him crash tonight. On these treacherous mountain roads, a crash like that would be fatal. Thankfully, I’d arrived before his race with Marco was scheduled to start. We’d barely taken another step when Marco himself blocked our path. “Win one race and you think you can just leave?” he sneered, his face a mask of aggression. “That’s not how it works.” He looked dangerous. I tried to de-escalate. “Sorry, we have a family emergency. He really can’t stay.” I tried to step around him, but one of his cronies moved to block me, his hand reaching out to shove me. In a flash, Liam yanked me behind him. He tossed a bank card at Marco’s feet. “Keep the winnings from the last race. Now tell your guys to get out of the way.” Marco let out a cold laugh, his eyes raking over me with a slimy gaze. “You want to leave? Fine. But first, she’s gotta make me happy.” Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Liam’s fist connected with his face. The scene exploded into chaos. The guys who were friendly with Liam jumped into the fray, and a full-on brawl erupted. “I’ve already called the cops! Stop fighting!” I screamed, my voice lost in the pandemonium. Seeing he was losing the fight, Marco pulled a knife and lunged at Liam. Without thinking, I grabbed a heavy rock from the side of the road and slammed it against the back of Marco’s head. The wail of sirens cut through the night. Marco’s eyes widened as he stared at me, then he collapsed. I looked down at the blood on the rock and dropped it with a clatter. 5 I grabbed Liam’s arm, my voice trembling. “Is he… is he dead?” “Can I still run? Will they catch me?” “Liam, if I go to jail, will you visit me?” “It’s okay if you don’t. Just… just take care of yourself.” “And stop skipping school and fighting, okay? You have to study hard.” My rambling came to a halt, and I looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Can you… can you call me Mom?” Liam shot me a look that was pure, unadulterated exasperation. Then he turned and kicked the unconscious man on the ground. Marco, who had been utterly still a second ago, yelped and clutched his leg in pain. I blinked. This brat. He’d completely lost his childhood charm. The little boy I knew would have been crying and asking for a hug by now. This new version was just… a jerk. At the police station, a dozen or so of them were lined up against the wall, waiting for their parents to come bail them out. A few of the guys standing across from me started chatting. “You look like a good girl, but you’ve got guts,” one of them said with a grin. “You guys are pretty brave too,” I replied, trying to sound friendly. “Thanks for having my Liam’s back. I’ll treat you all to dinner sometime.” Their expressions immediately turned to ones of nosy curiosity. “So what’s the deal between you and Liam?” “I’m his…” “Sister,” Liam cut in before I could finish. My eyes lit up. Did that “sister” mean he was starting to accept me? I smiled and nudged his arm. “Liam, give me your hand.” He frowned. “What for?” “I have some candy for you. Want some?” He turned his head away, his voice cold. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t eat candy.” “Okay, fine. I’ll ask someone else then…” 6 I made a show of turning toward the other boys, and Liam immediately thrust his hand out in front of me. I couldn’t help but chuckle. This stubborn, awkward teenager was so much like his father. I took his hand, turned it palm-down, and gently fastened the new watch I’d bought around his wrist. “Do you like it?” He had turned back to face me at some point, his gaze fixed on the watch. For a split second, his eyes reddened. He pressed his lips together, and after a long moment, he held out his hand again. “Where’s my candy?” He really wants it? I thought, surprised. But he just said he didn’t eat candy. Feeling a pang of guilt, I gently closed his fingers into a fist. “I’ll buy you some as soon as we get out of here.” Just then, an officer called out our names. “You two can go. Your guardian is here to pick you up.” A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I leaned closer to Liam and whispered, “You didn’t tell your dad who I am, did you?” “No. He just thinks you’re a classmate.” I let out a breath of relief. “Good. Keep it that way. Don’t tell him.” Liam gave me a questioning look, the word why practically written across his face. I avoided his gaze and blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “I’m still young. I’m not into older men.” He nodded thoughtfully, seeming to accept it. I followed him out of the station, my heart pounding a nervous rhythm against my ribs. Standing by the curb was Ethan, dressed in a tailored black suit. Even from behind, his tall, powerful frame was as captivating as a magazine cover. My pulse quickened. Get a grip, I scolded myself. You can’t fall apart over a silhouette. Liam stopped and called out in a lazy tone, “Dad.” Ethan turned, and I immediately dropped my gaze to the pavement.

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My wife, obsessed with Botox and Bergdorf’s, suddenly took up fishing last month. She bombarded me with questions about gear and techniques, claiming she wanted to join my trips—yet always declined when I suggested going. Then I spotted a million-dollar custom fishing rod order on her phone, engraved “JC.” I assumed it was for me. But my birthday passed. Our anniversary came and went. The rod was delivered—yet never appeared. Today, my fishing group shared a screenshot: “Cameron Young scored a rich sugar mama! Check out this $4M rod!” There was my wife in a cocktail dress, laughing with a stranger, holding matching rods. Her comment: “Happy to share your passions.” So “JC” didn’t stand for Jason Chen. It was for Jason Cameron. I called our family conglomerate: “Withdraw all investments from the Pei Group. Bankrupt them.” 1 I hung up, but the messages in the group chat kept flooding in. “Four million dollars for a rod! And his sugar mama is that beautiful? The guy’s living the dream!” Every compliment was a poisoned needle, making my eyes burn. I forwarded the screenshot to Clara, followed by a simple text: “Explain this.” Silence. My brow furrowed. Just as I was about to call her directly, a link appeared in the chat. “Check it out! Cameron’s live-streaming! And the sugar mama is with him!” Some dark impulse made me tap the link. The live feed instantly filled my screen. At the center was Cameron, decked out in brand-new, professional fishing gear, grinning like a fool. Beside him was Clara. She was wearing that same sexy, curve-hugging dress, her head tilted as she gazed at him. Her eyes were filled with a focused, tender adoration—the way one looks at a priceless treasure. “Hey everyone! Thanks for tuning in!” Cameron waved at the camera, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Today, I’m showing my girl here the joys of deep-sea fishing!” The casual intimacy, the blatant flirtation, hit me like a physical blow. A dull roar filled my ears. The comment section exploded. “OMG! I ship them so hard!” Then, a single question floated past: “Are you two a couple?” Cameron’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. He paused, then turned his intense gaze on Clara. His voice was low, but the microphone picked it up clearly. “She’s the most important person in my life.” Hearing this, Clara lowered her head, a shy blush creeping up her neck. The live chat went into a frenzy. I watched the spectacle, my fingers flying across the keyboard. “Honey, I thought you were shopping with your friends today? Why are you fishing?” “What kind of relationship is worth a four-million-dollar fishing rod? Is he your new boyfriend?” My username, my real name, scrolled across the screen, a stark and jarring intrusion amidst the flurry of gushing comments. The live stream fell silent for a beat. Then, all hell broke loose. “WTF?? HONEY? That’s a lot to unpack!” “HOLY SHIT! Major drama! The sugar mama is married and cheating???” “Is this for real?!” Cameron clearly saw the comments. Panic flashed across his face before he forced a stiff smile. “Guys, let’s not joke around like that. You’ll upset her.” He tried to play it off, but the terror in his eyes was unmistakable. Clara’s expression had turned to stone. She struggled to control her composure, her voice tight with panic. “It’s… it’s fine. I’m honored to have so many admirers.” She forced one last, brittle smile for the camera. “Alright, that’s all for today’s stream! See you all next time!” The screen went black. I tossed the phone onto the desk. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes, pressing my knuckles into my throbbing temples. A moment later, my phone rang. The name “Clara” flashed on the screen. “Julian…” The second I answered, her panicked, frantic voice spilled out. “You… you have to let me explain… It’s not what you think… I swear it’s not… I can explain everything…” My voice was ice. “You have thirty minutes. Come home and explain.” I paused. “And bring your little friend Cameron with you.” Before she could respond, I ended the call. 2 Thirty minutes later, the smart lock chimed. The door opened. Clara stood there, alone. My eyes swept past her to the empty entryway. “Where is he?” She froze, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. Her voice was laced with a carefully crafted vulnerability. “Julian… this is between us. Cameron… he’s just a kid, he just graduated.” “This has nothing to do with him! Please, don’t drag him into this. Please?” I walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Fine.” I looked up, catching the flicker of guilt in her eyes. “You have five minutes. Explain.” “I want to hear why you spent the last month begging me to teach you how to fish, if not to entertain your new boy toy.” Clara sat across from me, her words a desperate scramble. “Last month, I was in a fender bender in the parking garage. Some guy was trying to scam me. Cameron was just walking by, and he helped me out.” “The gift was just a thank you. That’s all it was. I swear.” The lie was so pathetic, I almost laughed. “A thank you? Clara, if you’re going to lie, at least put some effort into it.” She quickly rolled up her sleeve, revealing a faint scratch on her forearm. “I’m not lying! Look! I was even hurt!” “The guy scraped my car, and while I was arguing with him, Cameron called the police and got the security footage for me.” A cold, humorless smile touched my lips. “Look at what you’re wearing today. You were practically draped all over him. And the initials on the rod? Both of your initials.” “What, he helps you with a minor car issue and you decide to offer him your body in return?” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean for it to look like that.” “I was in a rush when I left the house, I just threw something on.” “And the initials on the rod… it was just a token of my gratitude, nothing more.” “The fishing… you taught me everything, and in the moment, I just…” “I was wrong… I’ll never do it again.” She wept, her face a mask of profound, theatrical sorrow, as if she were the one who had been wronged. I clenched my jaw, fighting back a wave of disgust. My voice was glacial. “You have two choices.” “One: you cut off all contact with this Cameron kid. Completely and forever.” “Two,” I said, pointing to the divorce papers I had already prepared, “we get a divorce.” “Divorce?!” The word seemed to scald her. She shrieked and lunged at me, grabbing my arm with a desperate strength. “No! I won’t sign it! I’ll die before I sign it!” “Julian, I know I was wrong! I’ll never speak to him again, I swear!” Fumbling, she pulled out her phone and, without a moment’s hesitation, deleted every trace of him—his number, his social media, everything. When she was done, she looked at me, her eyes wide with fear. “It’s done. He’s gone.” I stood up and walked over to her. “Clara,” I said, my voice low and heavy with a weariness I didn’t recognize in myself. “You know I love you.” Her body tensed in my arms, then she clung to me tighter. “But you also know,” my fingers tightened unconsciously, “that when it comes to my marriage, my tolerance for this kind of betrayal is zero. That is my bottom line.” “You can be dramatic. You can throw tantrums. You can have your moods. I can handle all of that.” “But I expect you to know the difference between right and wrong. I expect you to remember where the line is.” “I know… Julian, I know…” she sobbed into my chest, her tear-streaked face turned up to mine. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen… Please, just forgive me this one time…” 3 For a full week after our confrontation, she was the model of a perfect wife. She canceled all her social engagements and even insisted on joining me for a night of fishing by the river. To mark the occasion, she presented me with a brand-new fishing rod. It was a handcrafted masterpiece from a world-renowned artisan, its price tag even higher than Cameron’s. She linked her arm through mine, her smile bright. “Julian, I’ve been so foolish. From now on, I’ll be right here with you.” Holding the heavy, expensive rod, watching her act so docile and dependent, I felt the storm clouds in my mind begin to part. That afternoon, while I was reviewing some documents, my phone rang. It was Ryan, my executive assistant at Chen Conglomerate. “Mr. Chen,” Ryan’s voice was as calm and professional as ever. “As per your instructions, all procedures to sever ties with the Pei Group are… ready to go.” “Shall I execute the final withdrawal command now?” His words hung in the air. I thought about the changes in Clara over the past week. A flicker of doubt entered my mind. After a long silence, I spoke. “Wait.” One last chance. I would give her one last chance. I thought she might actually pass the test. I overestimated her. Two weeks later, Clara called to tell me she was going out of town for a few days to work on a deal. She was informing me, not asking. But I was swamped with a major project of my own, so I simply told her to be safe. Three days passed without a single call from her. After wrapping up my work, I called her. No answer. I tried her assistant, Lena. “Lena, how are the negotiations going with OmniCorp?” Lena sounded confused. “Mr. Chen, Ms. Pei went on the trip alone. I didn’t accompany her.” “I see. Thank you.” I hung up and found the private number for the CEO of OmniCorp in my contacts. He answered quickly. I didn’t waste any time. “Mr. Davies, is my wife, Clara Pei, there meeting with you?” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. “Clara? No. Julian, I think you have the wrong information,” he said, puzzled. “I’m in Bali right now, sunbathing. Why would I be in a meeting with her?” My heart stopped. My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles were white. “I understand. My apologies for disturbing you, Mr. Davies.” My throat was dry as I ended the call. Just then, a notification popped up from my angler’s group chat. “Another great day of sea fishing with my sugar mama.” The photo was taken on a private island. Clara, in a revealing swimsuit, was pressed tightly against Cameron. They were sharing a single fishing rod. Blood rushed to my head. With trembling hands, I pulled up the security feed from my private island. A familiar face appeared on the screen. For the past three days, Clara hadn’t been on a business trip. She had been on vacation with Cameron. On my island. I clutched the phone, my knuckles white, and sent a friend request to Cameron’s profile from the group chat. I sent it twice. He didn’t accept. Suddenly, a video call request appeared at the top of my screen. It was Clara. I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage, and answered. Her face filled the screen. The background was a bathroom. She was perfectly made-up, her expression a practiced blend of exhaustion and apology. “Julian! I’m so sorry, honey. I just got out of a meeting, my phone was on silent!” “There are some technical issues with the deal here. It looks like I’ll be stuck for another two days. The day after tomorrow, I promise! I’ll fly right back!” Just as she finished speaking, I heard a sound from her end. It was faint, but unmistakable: a low, masculine groan, thick with a certain… intimacy. “What was that noise?” A flash of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it. “Oh! Nothing! I just… I bumped into the vanity. Hit my back…” As the words left her mouth, my security feed showed a crystal-clear image of Cameron standing behind her, massaging her shoulders. I stared at the two screens, the inferno inside me barely contained. “Is that so? Well, be careful. You should put some ointment on it.” She nodded. I looked her directly in the eye. “Clara. You haven’t had any contact with that Cameron kid, have you?” On the screen, her eyes darted away for a second. Her smile became brittle. “Of… of course not! Julian, why are you bringing him up again? I deleted everything! I promise!” “Good.” A humorless smile stretched my lips. “Then… you close that deal. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

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My husband is hopelessly in love—with his little girlfriend. Lately, she’s been giving him the silent treatment, and he’s been a nervous wreck, a fresh crop of stress sores blooming at the corner of his mouth. I cover my mouth to hide a smile. It’s a good thing my own little boyfriend would never do that to me. Until Valentine’s Day. The boy’s handsome face is tight with tension. “I don’t care. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.” “If you don’t make it official, I’m going to volunteer for a relief mission in Africa. I’ll let the sun ruin my face, so you’ll never see this face you love so much again.” I’m hopelessly in love, too. And I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Panicked, I march to my husband and lay my cards on the table. “We need to get a divorce, now. If we don’t, the boy I’m keeping is going to get ugly.” The man, who rarely shows any emotion, suddenly crushes the teacup in his hand, his voice raspy. “You swore you’d love me for a lifetime.” “Jennifer,” he chokes out, “how could you fall out of love so fast?” 1 On Valentine’s afternoon, the streets are teeming with couples. I find Adrian on the city’s luxury shopping avenue. He’s leaning down, murmuring to a crying girl, his voice softer than I’ve heard it in years. “Don’t cry, okay? It was my fault. I won’t do it again.” “Come on, sweetheart. You’ll smudge your makeup.” After a bit more coaxing, the pretty girl finally cracks a smile and says playfully, “If you make me mad again, I’m really going to ignore you. You can’t keep treating me like this, Adrian.” They hug, then start kissing, right there on the street. It’s a passionate, lingering kiss. If you were close enough, you could probably hear the wet smacking sounds. A few passersby turn to stare. Even on Valentine’s Day, a full-on public make-out session is a bit much. I cover my face and quietly back away. If only the man wasn’t my husband of five years. I’d be munching on popcorn, watching to see how long they’d keep it up, how big of a crowd they’d attract. But the man is Adrian. My childhood friend, the man I dated for three years and have been married to for five. 2 I have the divorce papers in my purse. But they’re so engrossed, I figure it’s probably not a good time to interrupt. What if he gets mad and drags out the divorce? The man waiting for me at home wouldn’t get his divorce certificate, and then he’d be crying and taking it out on me in bed all night. Just as I’m about to slip away, the girl, Skylar, spots me. She gives Adrian a little push. Her wide, watery eyes are full of challenge, her voice sickly sweet. “Ma’am, are you stalking me and my Adrian?” “You have no shame. Adrian loves me, but you’re still clinging to your title as his wife and won’t let go.” I frown. Are all mistresses this self-righteous now? When Skylar first came into the picture, my marriage with Adrian wasn’t completely broken. When I heard he was spoiling some new girl, I threw a fit. I screamed, I yelled, I smashed things in our house. Then, I collapsed and begged him to come home. I swallowed all my pride, promising to forgive him if he just broke it off with her and came back to me. Remembering her past provocations, my first instinct is to fire back a sarcastic comment. But then I think of the divorce papers in my bag, and the beautiful boy waiting for me at home. I force a pleasant smile. “Actually, I’m here to talk to Mr. Thorne about our divorce.” I pull the papers from my purse and hand them to him. “Here. The assets will be divided according to our prenup. My lawyer will be in touch.” “I’ve already signed. Just let me know when you’re free, and we can go get the certificate.” Skylar’s face lights up with unconcealed joy. She tugs on his sleeve, her voice a purr. “Adrian…” But for some reason, Adrian’s pleasant expression darkens. “A divorce? Is this some new trick to get me to come home?” “It’s Valentine’s Day. Skylar is young, I have to be with her. Jennifer, be a good girl. I’ll come home and see you tomorrow.” Skylar looks triumphant, leaning intimately against him and mouthing the words, “Old hag. I told you your husband loves me.” How pathetic. I, the wife, am being treated like the secret mistress. “No, thank you,” I say, my voice cold. “From now on, you don’t have to come home at all.” I toss the divorce papers at his face and walk away. 3 I drive back to the apartment I share with Philip. He’s in the kitchen, cooking. The scent of my favorite braised pork belly fills the air. My gloomy mood vanishes instantly. I skip into the kitchen. “Philip, I talked to Adrian about the divorce today. Don’t worry, we’ll be divorced soon.” Then I see him. And I have to swallow. Philip is a boxer, and he’s in perfect shape. A chiseled eight-pack, sharp V-lines. He’s ruggedly handsome, with a wild edge. And right now, he’s shirtless, wearing the small pink apron I bought him, his abs flexing with each breath as he meticulously chops vegetables. He looks like a perfect, domesticated house-husband. My brain is screaming. Whose domestic god is this? I want to press my face against his chest, kiss him, bite him. “You’re finally home, my lady?” His captivating eyes crinkle with a smile. He expertly flips a fish in the pan, then turns off the heat. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.” Suddenly, I’m not that hungry anymore. I put on my most virtuous expression. “Let’s not eat just yet.” A playful glint appears in his eyes. His voice drops to a husky murmur. “Want to eat me first?” … It was Valentine’s Day. But I spent the entire night in bed. It isn’t until the sky begins to lighten the next day that I finally get to eat my braised pork belly, my back aching. Something glitters around my neck. I look down. It’s the new serpent necklace from Bulgari. A piece that costs a fortune. Philip doesn’t come from money. When I first met him, he was fighting in illegal underground matches. I don’t know how long he had to save up to buy me a multi-million dollar necklace. He sees me looking at him, and his ears turn red. He keeps feeding me spoonfuls of fish soup, his actions steady despite his blush. His warm breath tickles my ear as he says, his voice full of sincerity, “I know it’s not much. It’s not good enough for you.” “Jennifer, I’ll work harder. I’ll buy you a better Valentine’s gift next year.” I hadn’t received a Valentine’s gift since my falling out with Adrian. A warmth spreads through my chest. I throw my arms around him. “I believe in you.” 4 The divorce proceedings are officially underway. But every time I send the papers, his secretary sends them back. He doesn’t believe I’m serious. And why would he? I used to be crazy about him. We were childhood sweethearts. My parents were always busy, so they’d leave me at his house for him to look after. When kids bullied me, he was the one who stood up for me. When I was so sick I was about to pass out, he was the one who climbed over my fence in the middle of the night to take me to the hospital. When I got my first period and was crying in the bathroom, not knowing what to do, he was the one who, red-faced, went to buy me pads and taught me how to use them. I fell for him, hard. At our high school graduation party, I got drunk and confessed my feelings. He gently stroked my head. “That’s my line,” he’d said. “Jennifer, I’ve liked you for a long time, too.” After three years of dating, we got married. I thought we’d be happy forever. Then I found out he was seeing other women. I saw him with a new intern from his company, kissing her in a private room at a club. I was standing right outside the door. I heard him, drunk, complaining to his friends: “You guys have no idea. Jennifer and I have known each other for over twenty years. Sex with her is like my left hand touching my right. I have to take a pill just to get it up for her.” “I never should have rushed into marrying her. The thought of going home to her makes me want to puke from boredom.” Adrian had many lovers. Skylar was just the one who stuck around the longest. Everyone said he was serious about her. He showered her with gifts, took her to exclusive parties, and introduced her to his friends as his “girl.” When she came to our house to taunt me, he immediately defended her and blamed me. I was a mess, crying my eyes out. The man who used to comfort me at the slightest frown now just sat there, smoking, watching me have a complete breakdown and destroy our home. When I was finally exhausted, he took a drag from his cigarette and said with a smirk, “Quite the crier, aren’t you?” “Jennifer, I’m just tired of our relationship. But I still see you as a sister. If you need a man, I don’t mind if you find someone on the side. Just don’t you dare touch Skylar. If you do, I’ll really be done with you.” I sat on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage, and realized I didn’t recognize the man in front of me. But even then, I didn’t agree to a divorce. Everyone in our social circle said I was pathetic, so in love with him I’d tolerate anything. Now, I truly regret not taking him up on his offer. 5 The divorce papers are returned again. I have no choice but to go to his office and confront him. But I’m stopped at the entrance by Skylar and her entourage. She’s holding a sign that reads: NO DOGS OR JENNIFER THORNE ALLOWED. The people around her start to snicker. “So that’s Adrian’s wife? She’s not all that. Not nearly as sweet as Skylar.” “If it wasn’t for her being his childhood friend, Skylar would be the one with the ring…” Skylar, basking in the attention, holds her head high. “Old hag, aren’t you going to leave? You’re not welcome here.” I look at them like they’re a bunch of idiots. If they know I’m his childhood friend, they should also know that my family is just as powerful as his. I’ve never bothered with Skylar before because I felt the problem in my marriage was with Adrian. But my restraint has clearly made her bold. I raise my hand to slap her, but Adrian appears out of nowhere and catches my wrist. “Jennifer, she’s young and doesn’t know any better. Let it go.” He looks at me with disapproval. “Are you really going to hit her? When did you become so vicious?” If I back down now, the story of how Jennifer Thorne was barred from her husband’s company by his mistress will be all over the elite circles. I’ll be a laughingstock. He’s so concerned with protecting Skylar, he hasn’t given a single thought to my own predicament. A dull ache starts in my chest. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I’m here to talk about the divorce…” “I’m not signing,” he cuts me off. “Jennifer, stop this, okay? Skylar is no threat to you. I’m just… keeping her around.” 6 I look at Skylar. Spoiled by Adrian, her eyes immediately fill with tears. She reaches for his hand. “Honey…” He shakes her off. For all his philandering, he knows Skylar is not wife material. And he knows his family adores me. He reaches out to stroke my hair. “Look, I know you’re doing all this to get me to come home. I’ll come home tonight. Just be good and stop making a scene.” I step back, avoiding his touch. The last bit of pain in my heart dissipates. He clearly hasn’t been back to our marital home in the last six months, or he would have noticed that all my things are gone. Moved to my apartment with Philip. I take a deep breath. Just as he thinks I’m about to back down, I slap him, hard, across the face. The sound is crisp and loud. A red handprint blooms on his handsome face. Skylar, her eyes wide with horror, screams at me, “You old bitch! How dare you hit my husband? You’re just jealous that he loves me! A venomous shrew like you doesn’t deserve to be loved!” I slap her too, my face impassive. In the stunned silence, I pull the divorce papers from my bag again. “How many more of these do I have to send before you’ll sign?” “And don’t act so high and mighty, you impotent old man. You think I still love you? That’s hilarious. You’re old, and you’ve got a thick skin.” Adrian is two years older than me. If Skylar thinks I’m an old hag, what does that make him? A fossil? Adrian’s face is a thundercloud. But when he sees the clear disgust in my eyes, he starts to tremble. The color drains from his face. “You really want a divorce? This isn’t just a tactic to get me home?” “What else would it be?” Before I leave, I say, my voice low and dangerous, “You know my family is not to be trifled with. If you don’t sign, bed photos of you and every single one of your little girlfriends will be trending online by tomorrow.” 7 Back at our apartment, Philip is at his desk, typing away. But the moment I walk in, he senses my mood. He drops what he’s doing and pulls me into his arms. “What’s wrong, my lady? Who upset you? I’ll go beat them up tomorrow.” Philip is usually a man of few words. Even in bed, I’m the one doing most of the talking. But now, seeing my pout, he’s in a fluster, trying to think of jokes to cheer me up. When that doesn’t work, he lifts me, red-faced, and sets me on his lap. “Look, baby, a bouncy castle,” he says, flexing his abs. I actually laugh. Seeing that it’s working, he gently lays me on the sofa, takes off his shirt, and ties a black silk scarf around his eyes. The afternoon sun streams in, glinting off his bronze skin. He looks like a Greek god. He makes his pecs dance. “Look, baby. They can dance for you.” “…” I have to admit, the view has significantly improved my mood. Without hesitation, I tug at the waistband of his gray sweatpants. He gets the message and eagerly gets to work. As I’m reaching my peak, I hear him panting in my ear, whispering that he loves me, his voice a low, sexy growl, full of adoration. 8 Young men have stamina. I got home at two, and by the time we were done, it was dark outside. Philip cleaned me up, tucked me into bed, and even adjusted the air conditioning to the perfect temperature before he left the room. But I can’t sleep. Skylar’s words echo in my mind. A venomous shrew like you doesn’t deserve to be loved. Before, I would have brushed it off. But I’ve just been through a failed marriage. My husband of five years, my childhood sweetheart, cheated on me and complained to his friends that I was boring and frigid. I get out of bed and walk to the living room. Philip is in the kitchen again, chopping vegetables. Ever since we got together, he’s been determined to fatten me up. Adrian used to pinch the soft flesh on my stomach, his eyes full of disgust. “Jennifer, you haven’t even had kids, and your stomach is already flabby. Your waist is so thick. Looking at you just kills my libido.” His words had humiliated me. I wasn’t fat. I’m 5’5″ and weigh 118 pounds. But after his comments, I started dieting, starving myself until I was anemic and weak, until I ended up in the hospital with low blood sugar. It was only later that I found out he was seeing a model at the time. She had a tiny waist, so he found fault with mine. Philip has never been like that. When I told him I was worried about gaining weight, he cupped my face in his hands, his eyes serious. “Why would you need to lose weight? You’re not fat at all. You’re so thin, you need to eat more to be healthy.” “Adrian said I was fat…” I’d mumbled. “Then why didn’t you tell him he was small?” he’d muttered under his breath. “He’s probably insecure, so he has to insult you. What a pathetic asshole.” As I enter the kitchen, Philip’s sharp eyes spot me. He frowns. “Baby, why aren’t you wearing slippers? You’ll catch a cold.” He quickly washes his hands and lifts me into his arms. But I have something to ask him. “Philip,” I begin hesitantly. “Do you think… I’m a bad person? That I don’t deserve to be loved?” In the quiet kitchen, I can hear my own anxious heartbeat. He looks at me, stunned. “How could you not deserve to be loved?” he blurts out. “You’re amazing.” The cooking fumes must be getting to me, because my eyes start to water. Philip is still talking, his voice a soothing murmur in my ear. “Don’t listen to those people. You deserve to be loved more than anyone. Adrian cheated because he’s blind and a piece of trash. He doesn’t know how to appreciate what he has.” A weight lifts from my chest. He’s right. Why am I letting two awful people make me doubt myself? I signal for him to put me down, then grab his apron and pull him down for a kiss. “Baby, again? Aren’t you hungry? Maybe we should eat first.” Little Philip is already at attention, but he’s trying to hold back, his eyes red with effort. I stroke his face. “I’m not hungry. I’d rather eat you.” Neither of us notices the phone in the living room, ringing off the hook. All the calls are from Adrian.

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It was the third year of my brother’s cruel obsession with the scholarship girl. And her brother had finally come for him. The man who stepped out of the sleek black luxury sedan was young, with a cold, chiseled face. The live comments scrolling across my vision went wild. 【OMG, RODRIGO… WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.】 【You finally made it. Back with a vengeance.】 【These two psycho siblings are about to get what they deserve.】 【I’ve hated them for so long.】 【And so begins the epic revenge arc for our main characters.】 The comments were a victory parade. But as I looked at the man in the severe black suit standing before me, my own expression was… unnatural. Because my brother, Leo, learned his brand of coercive love from me. And three years ago, I was the one who had held this man captive. 1 I never thought I would see Rodrigo Vincent again. I certainly never imagined he was Iris Vincent’s brother. Three years ago, at the university’s opening ceremony, my brother saw student representative Iris Vincent and fell for her, hard. He became completely obsessed. But Iris didn’t like him at all. My brother, Leo, was used to getting his way. He was arrogant, reckless, and spoiled. When Iris rejected him, he used the fact that she was a poor orphan with no one to protect her to force her into a relationship. Of course, I tried to stop his tyrannical behavior. But Leo shut me down with a single sentence. “Phoebe, your little affair with that scholarship kid back in the day was the talk of the town, remember?” He sneered. “You bought him a car, a condo, threw money at him, and even hired guards to make sure he couldn’t escape.” “Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma… they all tried to talk you out of it, but no one could control you.” He muttered under his breath, “I learned everything from you.” 2 As he spoke, something shifted. This was the same Leo who never shed a tear or begged for mercy, even when our father beat him as a child. But now, his eyes were suddenly red. “I’ll listen to you on anything else,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But not this, Phoebe. I’m really in love with her.” His hair was a stylish, chaotic mess, but the look on his face was one of rare, desperate sincerity. I looked at him and saw a ghost of myself. I, too, had once pursued a hopeless love for a man, so desperately that I resorted to every possible means to keep him. And in the end, I still couldn’t make him stay. He still escaped. Seeing the raw vulnerability on my brother’s face, I turned away. “You can keep her with you,” I said, my back to him. “But you are not to harm her in any other way. If you do, I’ll cut off every single one of your cards.” 3 What happened with Rodrigo Vincent all those years ago had indeed been a massive, ugly scandal. So ugly that to this day, no one dared to even mention his name in my presence. So, at this moment, watching him step out of a black Bugatti, I felt a surreal sense of dislocation, as if I were looking across a chasm of time. He wore a severe black suit, an expensive steel watch gleaming on his wrist. His assistant walked beside him, bowing slightly, guiding his path. He seemed taller, I thought. When I held him captive, it was right after our high school graduation. He was only eighteen then. Poor, thin, always in the same faded, threadbare button-down. He always kept his face turned away from me, a mask of cold indifference. He could go an entire day without meeting my eyes once. 4 “This is Ms. Phoebe Chen,” his assistant said, introducing me. The man’s eyelids fluttered, and he finally deigned to look at me. The instant my gaze met Rodrigo Vincent’s dark, fathomless eyes, a stream of white text scrolled rapidly across my vision— 【FUCK YES! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT.】 【The male lead is finally back.】 【And this time he’s not the beautiful, tragic boy he used to be. He’s a god-tier powerhouse.】 【No more humiliation, no more suffering. From now on, it’s all ruthless, satisfying revenge.】 【These two psycho siblings are the first pieces of cannon fodder he’s going to crush.】 【He’ll stomp them into the ground and rescue his sister. It’ll be easier than squashing two ants.】 【They bullied his sister for years.】 【I can’t WAIT to see them groveling.】 【Go get ‘em, Rodrigo. Make them pay.】 5 I stared at the intensely charged words scrolling past. …Male lead? Was that Rodrigo? For a moment, I wasn’t even surprised. His qualifications were perfect for any protagonist: an impeccably handsome face, a brilliant mind, a stoic and reserved personality. Even his difficult, impoverished background fit the trope. “Ms. Chen?” the assistant prompted again. I snapped back to the present, met with Rodrigo’s cold, impatient glare. I suppressed the turmoil inside me, looked him in the eye, and spoke with calm sincerity. “I will have Iris sent back to you tonight.” 6 His assistant, probably expecting a fight, seemed prepared with a list of arguments and conditions. My straightforward statement left him speechless. His words died in his throat. He glanced at me, bewildered, then instinctively turned to Rodrigo, who hadn’t said a word. Time had certainly left its mark on Rodrigo Vincent. Dressed in black, his expression was unreadable, but every subtle movement radiated a powerful, mature masculinity. He was no longer the thin, trapped boy I had once kept locked away. “And what about the years of harm Leo inflicted on my sister?” Rodrigo finally spoke. His voice was low, with a magnetic timbre. “How do we settle that?” “However you see fit,” I replied instantly. “The Chen family will not protect him.” With that, I picked up my bag and started to leave. “I’ll have Iris returned to you on time tonight.” But his next words stopped me in my tracks. His voice echoed softly in the cavernous lobby. “And you?” he asked. “How do we settle the score for what you did to me?” 7 I never thought Rodrigo would bring it up so openly. It had been nearly five years. Seeing him again tonight, his eyes were full of nothing but coldness and the distance of a stranger. I had almost convinced myself he’d forgotten me. After all, he had despised me so much. After all, he had escaped from me in such a state of desperation. That had to have been the most humiliating period of his life. And yet, he was the one bringing it up. The glass window reflected the sharp, icy silhouette of the man behind me. He was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. He wasn’t looking at me, but his words, spoken in a slow, deliberate drawl, had frozen me in place. The live comments probably didn’t know about my history with Rodrigo—that part of the story that deviated from the main plot. So, after he spoke, the screen was flooded with question marks. 【Who is she?】 【What did Rodrigo just say? Did I mishear…?】 【WTF did this cannon fodder bitch do to him?】 【It must have been bad if it needs a reckoning…】 【Cannon fodder needs to learn its place.】 【Wait… I don’t even remember this chick’s name. How is she connected to the male lead?】 8 “Settle it however you want,” I said, turning my head slightly to face him. I had taken advantage of his weakness back then. So now, if he wanted to make me pay, it was only right that I accept it. Besides, the comments made it perfectly clear. He was the hero, back for his revenge. I was just the cannon fodder he was meant to crush. I had no power to fight him. So I stood there, waiting for his retribution. But after I spoke, a frown creased his brow. For the first time, Rodrigo truly looked at me. In the dark pools of his eyes, I saw the reflection of my own impassive profile. “What does that mean?” he asked, the question almost reflexive. “It means that no matter how you decide to settle this, I will cooperate.” I paused, then added, “But please, leave the rest of my family out of it. Just my brother.” My expression faltered for a second. “Back then, everyone tried to stop me. It was my own stubbornness that made me keep you.” A sudden, cold smile touched Rodrigo’s lips. “Phoebe,” he asked, his voice dripping with ice, “what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate with me?” He was right. I had no position, no leverage. I gave him one last, calm look, then turned to leave again. From behind me, Rodrigo called my name again, his voice sharp, trying to force me to stop. But I didn’t pause this time. As I pressed the down button for the elevator, I thought I saw a flicker of movement in the lobby behind me. Rodrigo Vincent, surging to his feet. 9 I didn’t hesitate. I got in my car and drove straight out of the city, toward the suburbs. Leo was dangerously attached to Iris. He kept her hidden away, guarded her like a hawk. He’d never even introduced her to his closest friends or family. He was terrified she’d run away. He had multiple safe houses, all for her. But no matter how cunning he was, he was still my little brother. I knew all of his hiding spots. That was why I could so confidently promise Rodrigo I’d have Iris back to him tonight. Because I knew that Leo was out of town for the next two days for a competition he couldn’t miss. And Iris wasn’t with him. 10 As I approached the cozy-looking villa in the suburbs, I paused, struck by the garden. The entire yard was filled with flowers. A stone path, illuminated by ground lights, led to the front door. I used my key to unlock the double bolts. Iris, sitting on the living room sofa, turned her head at the sound. Her expression was cool, but I saw a flash of surprise and eager hope in her eyes. The moment she saw it was me, that hope vanished, replaced by a chilling disappointment. Before I could get a better look, she had already turned her head away. I closed the door and got straight to the point. “Pack your important things. You’re leaving with me.” Iris looked at me, confused. “…What are you talking about?” 11 “Your brother is back,” I told her. “He’s here to take you home.” Leo had tormented her for three years. Even the live comments knew she was desperate to escape his grasp. But at my words, Iris’s brow furrowed. There was no joy on her face, only confusion and distress. I heard her whisper, “Why so soon…” I didn’t catch the rest of it. When I leaned in to ask, she hugged her knees and turned away. “He locked all my documents in his safe.” Her posture was defensive. “I don’t know the combination.” She wouldn’t even say his name. “I might know Leo’s password.” But my words didn’t bring her any relief. Instead, the last bit of color drained from her face. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go upstairs and try.” 12 We stood in front of the safe in the second-floor study. I typed in the date Leo and Iris first met. The safe beeped, signaling an error. I looked back at the silent Iris. “Your birthday?” She bit her lip, frowning, before slowly reciting the numbers. I typed them in one by one. After the sixth digit, there was a soft click. The safe door swung open. It was such a simple password. I looked at Iris, puzzled. “Have you never tried?” I gestured to the safe, which was sitting in plain sight. But there was no surprise on her face. She just lowered her gaze and changed the subject. “Why the rush? Aren’t you afraid of what he’ll do when he comes back and finds me gone?” I pulled her documents out of the safe. “Let’s go,” I said. “His rage is better than his death.” 13 I drove away from the villa with Iris in the back seat. As we were leaving, she stood in the yard for a long time, looking back at the house. “He tormented you for so long. Why would you be reluctant to leave?” I asked her. My question seemed to startle her. Her expression immediately became guarded. She quickly got into the car. A moment later, her muffled voice came from the back. “I’m not.” I watched her in the rearview mirror. Her departure felt both decisive and strangely hesitant. She’d even brought her phone. The screen kept lighting up with an endless stream of messages and notifications. She stared at it, her eyes fixed, but never picked it up. Instead, her fingers gently caressed the thin band of the watch on her wrist. When I stopped the car in front of the downtown skyscraper that now bore the Vincent family name, I turned around and apologized to her sincerely. “I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything my brother did to you these past years.” 14 The moment the words left my mouth, the live comments appeared. 【LMAO, the cannon fodder bitch is apologizing now?】 【Where was she when her psycho brother was torturing Iris for the past two years? Playing dead?】 【She knows the reckoning is here. Now she’s scared.】 【Serves her right.】 【But begging won’t save you, Phoebe.】 【You and your brother are both going down.】 The comments scrolled past, a chorus of gleeful anticipation. Remembering what triggered their appearance, my heart skipped a beat. I instinctively looked out the car window. And there he was. Standing under a streetlamp in front of the building. Rodrigo Vincent. Dressed only in a black shirt, leaning against the lamppost, his gaze fixed on us. He stood in the shadows, his expression obscured, but his stare felt tangible, pinning me in place. There was nothing more to say to Iris. “Your brother is over there, waiting for you,” I urged. Iris got out. The moment her door clicked shut, I drove away, leaving the glittering city block behind me. 15 About ten minutes later, my assistant called, his voice frantic. “I think Leo found out. He didn’t even finish his competition. He’s on his way back tonight. We can’t stop him. No one dares to try.” I glanced at the back seat, at the phone and watch lying there. The phone had been buzzing with messages and calls the entire ride. Its battery finally died, the screen going dark. “Let him come back,” I sighed. “Just stay with him. I’ll meet him at the airport when he lands.” At five o’clock that morning, I met a storm-faced Leo at the arrivals gate. His eyes were bloodshot. The first words out of his mouth were an accusation. “You sent her away?” “You need to understand, Leo. Iris is not your property.” I tried to reason with him. But he was too far gone, lashing out, looking for any way to hurt me back. “Property?” His eyes were wild. “Then what about you?” he roared. “When you locked that scholarship kid up, cut him off from the world, made him disappear from everyone’s lives? Why the hell didn’t you know that he wasn’t your property?”

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Everyone in our circle knew I loved Seraphina Winer to the point of madness. For years, I had quietly given her everything. When her mother fell ill, I secretly brought in the country’s top specialists to treat her. When she launched her company, I poured a fortune into clearing her path to success. Whenever I found something beautiful or rare, my first instinct was to lay it at her feet. After twelve years of marriage, I held onto the belief that my devotion would one day win her heart. I never imagined she was sleeping with her male secretary behind my back. The sonogram, the endless, blindingly intimate photos he sent me—they were enough to turn my heart to ash. I didn’t scream or break things. I calmly called a meeting of the board and had Seraphina removed from her position as CEO. I would make her understand. Without me, she was nothing. 1. On my birthday, I treated myself to a prime-grade steak and my favorite matcha mousse cake. I sat in the cavernous living room, savoring the solitude. Seraphina walked in after settling a filthy stray dog she’d brought home, her expression grim. “Why isn’t dinner made?” she demanded, her gaze sweeping over my plate. “You know I don’t eat steak, and I can’t stand matcha. What am I supposed to eat?” I didn’t look up. “There’s instant ramen in the cabinet. Just add hot water.” Her face tightened with anger. “I flew back from out of town specifically to celebrate your birthday, and this is the attitude I get?” she snapped. “So I was delayed by work, so what? I even brought you a gift. What more could you possibly want?” “Was it really my birthday you came back for?” I countered, my voice sharp, finally meeting her gaze. A small, cold smile touched my lips. “I saw the pictures. You and Leo Archer, taking a leisurely stroll in the park this afternoon.” While I was at home, my heart filled with anticipation, planning a surprise for us, she was basking in the afternoon sun with her secretary, looking for all the world like a pair of lovers. It would have been a beautiful picture, if she weren’t already married to me. And my birthday “gift”? The dirty stray dog she’d impulsively rescued during her little walk with Leo. Seraphina’s face went rigid before her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Yes, I got back this morning. Leo was having a rough day, so I took him to the park to clear his head. As his boss, isn’t it my job to care about my employees’ well-being?” She sat beside me, her tone still devoid of any warmth or guilt. “Eddy, I know what this is really about. Don’t take your obsession with having a baby out on Leo.” “I told you before, I’m just starting to build my empire. My work takes all my energy. I simply don’t have time for a child.” “You’re thirty-five,” she added coolly. “Do you really think you’re still young enough to have a healthy child?” I may be thirty-five now, but I was in my early twenties when I married her. For twelve long years, I’d yearned for a child, and for twelve years, she’d put me off with the excuse of her career. I had always supported her, respected her, acting as the silent, unshakeable foundation she stood on. Her pride was immense. To help her conquer the business world, I secretly leveraged my family’s resources, paving every inch of her road to success. I had given everything to walk this path with her. And now that she was a titan of industry, a celebrated name, she had the audacity to tell me I was too old, unworthy of fathering her child. Sensing the shift in my mood, Seraphina moved to embrace me, her voice softening into a placating purr. “Darling, I really don’t have the time. And you don’t have the energy to raise a child alone. I’m thinking of you.” She gestured toward the dog. “This little guy might not be perfect, but all creatures have a soul. We can raise him as our child, okay?” I caught the faint, cloying scent of another man’s cologne on her, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I pulled away from her, my face a mask of indifference. “If all creatures have a soul, why didn’t you give the dog to Leo? What, is it not as good as the limited-edition sports car you bought him this afternoon? He gets a priceless car, and I get a stray dog?” Her expression soured instantly. “Did the paparazzi snap that too? Eddy Cole, are you investigating me? How can we be a couple if there’s no privacy or trust between us!” She scrambled for an excuse. “I bought him the car because he’s been with me for years, from obscurity to success. Don’t I owe him a thank you?” I stared at her, a bitter taste filling my mouth. It felt like a hand was squeezing my throat, like I’d been slapped across the face. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice strained, “he’s been your secretary for three years. I’ve been your husband for twelve. And you used our money to buy him a priceless car as a ‘thank you’?” Twelve years, and she still didn’t understand. It wasn’t about the dog, or the car. It was about her contempt for me. Her face flushed with rage. “Why have you become so petty? A little money and you’ve completely lost your head. You’re a house husband. What would you do with a sports car, drive it to the grocery store?” She waved a dismissive hand. “I can’t be bothered to argue with you. Keep up this nonsense and this marriage is over!” Just then, her phone rang. The anger vanished from her face, replaced by a gentle concern as she answered. “Leo? What’s wrong? Don’t worry, I’m home. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done here.” Leo’s shaky voice crackled through the phone. “Sera… I was in an accident. I think my leg is hurt…” “Okay, just wait for me, I’m on my way!” Seraphina’s face was pale with worry. Without another word or a single glance back at me, she bolted out the door. A moment later, a text from an unknown number buzzed on my phone. It was a sonogram report. Seraphina Winer, three months pregnant. Below it, a neatly typed message. “This is our first child. To celebrate, Seraphina bought me a sports car and a new villa.” “Tonight, she’s all mine, Eddy. Happy birthday. Enjoy the dog.” 2. My world tilted. My eyes were glued to the sonogram, a blade twisting in my chest. The strength drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the floor. Soon after, a text from Seraphina arrived. “Something came up at the office, meeting a partner. Won’t be home tonight. I owe you for your birthday, I’ll make it up to you with a gift at the business event tomorrow.” She added one last line. “Don’t be angry. Get some sleep.” I stared at the two messages, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping my lips. Seraphina and I met in college. It was love at first sight for me; she couldn’t have been less interested. She was raised by a single mother who was later diagnosed with a severe brain tumor. They were desperate for money to cover the treatment. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer. I paid for everything, anonymously, and arranged for the nation’s top neurosurgeon to perform the operation. The surgery was a success. To protect her pride, I told her the money came from a charity fund. She was at her lowest point, but her pride was unyielding. “Eddy Cole,” she had demanded, “what do you want from me?” I laid my heart bare. “I love you.” She was silent for a long moment. “You want to be my boyfriend,” she said, her brow furrowed, “but my career is just starting. We’d have to keep it a secret. Wouldn’t that hurt you? Eddy, you’re a good man, but I have nothing to give you…” The love of a young man is pure and fearless. “I’ll endure anything, as long as I can be with you,” I promised her. “Seraphina, I will help you achieve your dreams, and I will wait for you to love me back. Please, just give me a chance.” The sun was setting that day, painting the sky in shades of rose. The young woman stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the young man’s cheek. “Okay.” And so we began. To open the doors of the business world for her, I used my family’s influence behind her back, smoothing her path. She became an overnight sensation, a rising star lauded for a brilliant investment. In the beginning, even if our love wasn’t deep, she treated me with respect, understanding, and care. As she fought her way up, I was always by her side. I took drinks for her at networking events until I was vomiting in the streets, once so violently I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding stomach. She held my hand then, her voice full of pain. “Eddy, let’s get married. I will make something of myself. And even if I can never truly love you, I swear I will never, ever hurt you.” Twelve years had passed. We saw each other less and less. Now, when she looked at me, all I saw was irritation. Her endless stream of cruel words had become a thousand tiny cuts. The sonogram was the final, fatal blow, plunging straight through my scarred and broken heart. Tears streamed down my face as I smiled. I typed back a single message. “Seraphina, let’s get a divorce.” The next morning, there was still no reply. I suspected she hadn’t even bothered to read my message. But Leo Archer’s Instagram had been updated. A new post showed him with perfectly styled hair revealing the elegant line of his neck. He wore a custom-tailored black suit, and on his wrist, an emerald watch caught the light with a cold, green fire. I knew that watch. It was my mother’s only legacy, my most precious treasure. My heart plummeted. I rushed to the safe. The watch was gone. An icy dread washed over me. Besides me, only one other person knew the combination. Seraphina. I grabbed my keys and sped to the location of that night’s business gala. When I arrived, Seraphina was in her element, laughing with a group of industry titans. She didn’t even notice me. But Leo did. He sauntered over, deliberately flashing the watch. “Well, well, Eddy. You really came dressed like that? A bit pathetic, don’t you think?” His voice dripped with contempt. “The only reason you married her is because you met her a few years before I did. Dumb luck. But look at you now. Just an old man, wasting away. You don’t belong in a place like this. You should leave before you embarrass yourself further.” Rage, white-hot and uncontrollable, surged through me. Seeing him treat my mother’s memory so flippantly, I snapped. I swung my hand, slapping him hard across the face. “Give. Me. My. Watch.” “Ah!” Leo cried out, clutching his face and stumbling theatrically to the ground. Seraphina cut through the crowd, her eyes wide. Seeing Leo on the floor, she rushed to his side, shielding him with her body. Her glare was glacial. “Eddy, are you insane?!” “Who gave you permission to touch him?” she hissed. “He provoked me,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “He had it coming. Seraphina, why is my mother’s watch on his wrist?” Leo feigned innocence. “It’s all my fault. I couldn’t find the right accessory for this suit. I heard Eddy had an emerald watch, and Sera said it would look perfect on me, so she let me borrow it…” I stared at Seraphina, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. “You gave him my mother’s legacy to curry his favor?” Even after learning of her affair, of their child, I never thought she could be this cruel. I had once confided in her, against my grandmother’s advice not to reveal my family background, that my mother had died protecting me, and that this watch was the only thing I had left of her. How could she give it away so carelessly? Seraphina shielded Leo, her voice trembling with fury. “Is this watch that valuable? Once it’s in our house, it’s our property. I can give it to whomever I please. Do I need your permission?” “Eddy, the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the roof over your head—I gave you all of it! How dare you question me?” Before she could finish, I raised my hand again. This time, the slap was for her. She didn’t flinch, taking the full force of the blow. Leo shrieked, rushing to her side. “Are you crazy? You hit her over a watch? She’s a giant of the industry! Do you have any idea who she is?” “Enough! Stop embarrassing yourselves!” Seraphina roared. She ripped the emerald watch from Leo’s wrist and hurled it at me. “Take it! Take the piece of junk your pathetic, dead mother left you! I wouldn’t have even touched it if Leo didn’t like it!” “Now take your watch and get out!” she screamed. The watch hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. The emeralds skittered across the floor, the watch face cracked—a perfect mirror of our broken marriage. Something inside me finally shattered. I grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table and threw it in her direction. “Seraphina,” I yelled, my voice breaking, “you are the biggest disappointment of my life!” Security guards quickly subdued me. Seraphina’s face was contorted with rage. “Eddy, I am powerful now! I am influential! I am still offering you the position of my husband, so don’t be so ungrateful!” How laughable. Everything she was, I had built. I stared at her, my voice cold and steady. “I don’t need your pity. We’re getting a divorce. And I will show you what it means to have nothing.”

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The call came, and just like that, my sister-in-law, Linda, was gone. A firestorm of screaming matches with my husband’s brother, Mark, and then… nothing. She’d walked out, leaving her twin daughters behind like a pair of old shoes. And now, here was my mother-in-law, Eleanor, standing on my doorstep, the girls flanking her like sullen bodyguards. They were high school sophomores, all sharp angles and simmering resentment. “Clara, honey,” Eleanor pleaded, her voice a practiced quaver. “An aunt has to be a mother now. You have to pity them. Two girls, without a mom…” In another life, I’d listened. In another life, my heart had been a bleeding, foolish thing. I’d taken them in. I’d poured my soul into those girls, bled my bank account dry for tutors and art camps, all to see them accepted into top-tier universities. And at their graduation party, a celebration I had thrown for them, they had repaid me with a spectacular, tear-streaked performance. Hailey had sobbed to our relatives that I’d treated them like household help. Kayla added that I’d even let my son, Leo, watch them, that he would come into their room. “Just because our mom left doesn’t mean we don’t have any dignity!” she’d cried. Then Linda, as if on cue, materialized from the crowd to reclaim her wronged children. She’d swept them into her arms, and they’d sworn they would never set foot in my toxic home again. My husband’s family turned on me, their whispers like venom. How could she? Those poor, motherless girls. Lost in a fog of disbelief, I felt two pairs of hands on my back. A hard shove. The world tilted, the city lights a dizzying smear as I tumbled from the 28th-floor balcony. My last sensation was a shattering impact. I blinked. The scent of Eleanor’s cloying perfume. The identical, resentful faces of the twins. I was back. This time, I would be so much better to them. I would be the aunt they deserved. And the first thing I’d do? Buy them each the brand-new iPhone they’d been begging for. 1 “Clara, you’re their mother now, you have to be,” Eleanor’s wheedling voice burrowed into my ear, pulling me from the daze. Yes. It was real. I was back on that very day. Before I could even speak, Eleanor was pushing the girls forward. “Hailey, Kayla, get on your knees. Thank your aunt. From now on, you treat her like your own mother, you hear me?” Hailey bristled. “We have a mom, Grandma.” “A mom?” Eleanor scoffed, her voice dripping with righteous indignation. “That woman isn’t fit to be called a mother! Leaving you at the most important time of your lives, just to run off and remarry. Let me tell you, from this day forward, Clara is the only mother you have. Your future, your college, everything depends on her now. So you show her some respect!” Reluctantly, Hailey and Kayla knelt before me, their voices a mumbled chorus. “Aunt Clara.” “Call her ‘Mom’!” Eleanor commanded. “Listen to your grandmother. Forget that witch. She threw you away. Why would you even think of her?” Last time, I’d fought it. I’d insisted I wasn’t trying to replace their mother, which only made them resent me more when Eleanor’s slaps finally forced the word “Mom” from their lips. That single word became a grudge they nursed for years. But Eleanor’s goal was never about family; it was about shifting financial responsibility squarely onto my shoulders. This time, I rushed forward, pulling them to their feet. “Oh, no, please don’t,” I said, my voice soft with understanding. “An aunt is an aunt. I could never take your mother’s place. You two just focus on your studies. As long as you work hard and stay on the right path, you won’t want for anything here. I promise, whatever my Leo has, you’ll have too.” Their eyes, previously guarded, lit up with a spark of surprise. “For real?” Kayla whispered. I gave them my most reassuring smile. “Absolutely. I’m a mother. I know how it is. You just make yourselves at home.” 2 Eleanor looked stunned by my easy acceptance. Even my husband, Robert, seemed taken aback. He pulled me aside. “Two teenage girls… that’s a lot to handle, Clara. Are you sure you’re up for this?” I was. Oh, I was. In my first life, my hesitation had earned me a lecture from Robert about my lack of compassion. “You’re a mother, how can you be so cold-hearted? They’re family, not strangers. You’ve known them since they were babies.” This time, I threw his own words back at him with a serene smile. “Don’t worry, darling. I will take the best possible care of them.” Refusing would only make me the villain from day one. This way was so much better. I started immediately. The master bedroom, the king-sized bed Robert and I had shared for twenty years, was cleared out. We crammed our lives into the cramped study, a space barely big enough for a mattress. I carried the twins’ suitcases into their new room myself. I bought them fresh, coastal-blue bedding and even changed the heavy drapes to light, airy curtains in a shade of seafoam green they’d once admired. I set up two new desks for their schoolwork. Robert and Eleanor were thoroughly impressed, praising my generosity. I just smiled. This was only the beginning. Next, a trip to the supermarket. “Get whatever you want,” I told them, gesturing to the aisles. “Anything at all.” Hailey’s eyes widened. “Like… Cheetos? And Coke? And Ben & Jerry’s?” “Of course!” “But… Mom said that’s all junk food. She never let us have it.” I laughed, a warm, conspiratorial sound, as I piled their cart high. “Oh, honey. If it were really poison, they wouldn’t be allowed to sell it. Your mom was just trying to save a few bucks. Don’t you worry about that anymore.” They attacked the aisles like it was Christmas morning, their cart overflowing. When we got home, Robert frowned at the mountain of snacks covering the kitchen island. “They’re teenagers, Clara. Especially girls… all this junk isn’t good for their skin. Or their weight.” I smiled placidly, offering no argument. But every day, the snack hoard was magically replenished. I started snapping photos of them, faces smeared with chocolate, laughing as they guzzled soda. I posted them on Facebook with carefully crafted captions. 【So happy to see these poor girls finally enjoying themselves. They’ve been through so much. In my house, they’ll never be denied the simple joys of being a kid.】 The comments from the family flooded in. 【Clara, you’re a saint! A better mother than their own.】 【Seriously. What kind of woman is Linda? To walk out right before their SATs? She couldn’t wait three more years?】 【Trash. Thank God she’s gone, so Clara can step in and show them what a real home is like.】 The digital applause was still ringing when my phone buzzed. It was Linda. I put her on speakerphone, right as Hailey and Kayla walked into the room. “Clara, what the hell do you think you’re doing, feeding my daughters that garbage?” Linda’s voice was a shrill saw. “It’s full of chemicals! It’s terrible for them! I swear you’re doing this on purpose. From now on, I want you making them bone broth and salads. Five courses, one soup, every meal. And you’ll send me pictures to prove it!” I let a tear roll down my cheek, my voice trembling for the twins to hear. “Linda… how can you say that? I just… they looked so happy, I couldn’t bear to say no. If you’re really this worried about my care, you should come get them. You’re their mother, after all. I would never stand in your way.” 3 At my words, a flicker of hope ignited in the twins’ eyes. They were still just kids. Of course they wanted their mom. But Linda extinguished that hope with a single, brutal sentence. “Are you insane? I’m getting remarried. I can’t show up with two teenage burdens in tow. My fiancé has two sons of his own to think about! They are your responsibility now, so stop trying to dump them back on me.” The light in their eyes vanished. They stared at the floor, two identical statues of disappointment. I was a good person. I couldn’t stand to see children so unhappy. “Come on, girls,” I said, pulling them close. “Let’s get you something to cheer you up.” Standing in the bright, sterile light of the Apple Store, their eyes were like saucers. “Aunt Clara… are you serious?” Hailey breathed, stroking the sleek glass of the latest iPhone. “Mom said we couldn’t have phones until after we graduated,” Kayla added. “She said they’d be a distraction.” I looked from one hopeful face to the other. “Forget what she said. Do you want them?” They nodded so hard I thought their heads might fall off. A moment later, two new phones were paid for, and they were shrieking with joy. Another photo went up on Facebook. 【The girls need to do research for school, and I’m too old to help with their newfangled homework! Guess I’ll have to rely on technology to lend a hand. 】 The likes poured in. A cousin commented almost immediately: 【Clara, that’s so generous! Those are the newest models, that’s almost two grand right there!】 【Wow. You really do love them. Linda would never. She’s always dripping in gold jewelry, but she’d never spend that kind of money on her own kids.】 I refreshed the comments, waiting. Two minutes later, my phone rang. It was Linda. “Clara, you’ve gone too far!” 4 Again, I hit the speakerphone button. “Linda, what is it now? I was just afraid of them falling behind in school, so I got them a tool to help them study. What’s so wrong with that?” She was practically screaming. “Don’t play dumb with me! What do high schoolers need a phone for? It’s a one-way ticket to failing! Adults can’t even handle the addiction, how do you expect kids to?” They can’t, I thought. And that’s exactly the point. I needed to see if Linda would finally crack, if she would come and rescue her precious daughters from my “terrible” influence. In my first life, I truly believed she had abandoned them. But I was wrong. She had only outsourced the hardest three years. The moment I had single-handedly dragged the twins into a prestigious university, she had reappeared, weeping about how I’d stolen her children and prevented her from seeing them. I remembered the sting of their palms against my cheeks as they’d each slapped me. “We will never see you again for the rest of our lives,” they had vowed in front of all our relatives. “You vile old woman who kept us from our mother.” The irony had been crushing. It was Linda who had refused to visit, yet I was the one who paid the price. Now, I spoke into the phone, my voice full of feigned reasonableness. “Linda, you’re their mother. You know best. Like I said, if you think I’m doing a bad job, you are welcome to take them back at any time.” The twins held their breath, waiting. And again, their mother let them down. “Get lost! I told you, I have sons now. Don’t let them bother me! But as their mother, I can’t stand by and watch you ruin them. Take away their phones. Do you hear me?” I looked at the twins, my face a mask of conflict. “Well… what do we do? She’s your mom, and she’s forbidden it. I’m just your aunt, I don’t have the final say. Maybe you should give them to me.” They shook their heads frantically, clutching the phones to their chests. Hailey grabbed my phone and spoke into it. “Mom, it’s okay! Aunt Clara is great to us. We’ll only use the phones for homework, we promise!” “You girls…” Before Linda could finish, I ended the call. Watching them, heads bent, fingers flying across their new screens, I smiled. 5 The girls’ grades plummeted. They’d always been average students, B-minus kids at best. Last time, I had poured a fortune into their education. Tutors at $100 an hour. A forty-thousand-dollar intensive art program their senior year just to get their portfolios strong enough for a top-tier school. And at their graduation party, they’d complained that I’d turned them into study-machines, that I’d stolen their youth just so I could brag about them. So be it. This time, I gave them all the freedom in the world. All the fun. And none of the discipline. Let’s see what they had to complain about now. A call came from their guidance counselor. She wanted me to come into the school. I knew why. Their grades had crashed from the middle of the pack to dead last. Last time, I’d rushed over, panicked. After a long talk with the counselor, I’d concluded their mother’s abandonment had wounded their sensitive teenage souls. This time, I took a long, leisurely shower. I did my hair. I arrived just as the counselor was packing up for the day. The twins stood beside her desk, staring at their shoes. The counselor, clearly annoyed by my tardiness, tried to remain professional. “Mrs. Miller, do you have any idea how much your nieces’ schoolwork has declined? We need to have a serious talk about your home environment. High school is a critical time. Some students blossom, others… they fall off a cliff. You need to go home and have a very firm talk with them. They have potential.” I nodded earnestly. “You’re absolutely right, Ms. Davis.” “It’s not enough to agree with me, you need to act. You are their primary guardian. The responsibility falls on you.” Last time, I’d protected their fragile egos, saying nothing of their family situation. I’d gone home, hired tutors, and implemented a strict study schedule—for which I was later branded a tyrant. This time, I corrected her gently. “Actually, Ms. Davis, I’m not their guardian. I’m just their aunt. More like an unpaid nanny, really, just looking after their basic needs. When it comes to their academics, I’m afraid I’m out of my depth. I can’t force them. You see, I’m just their aunt. There are some lines I can’t cross. Perhaps you should call their mother? A word from a biological parent might carry more weight.” The counselor’s expression softened into pity. An aunt, struggling with two teenage nieces. How difficult. She immediately called Linda. Linda didn’t even let her finish before cutting her off. “My ex-husband and I are divorced. They’re not my problem anymore. Don’t call me again.” Click. Fuming, the counselor then called Mark. His response was even worse. “They’re living with their aunt now. From now on, you talk to her about everything. That includes school fees, by the way.” The counselor looked like she wanted to throw her phone against the wall. I glanced at the twins. Their faces were a mixture of shame, anger, and a profound, bottomless sadness. The sadness of children who have been truly abandoned. As I led them out of the school, I put a comforting arm around each of them. “Don’t you worry,” I said softly. “Even if no one else in the world wants you, your aunt will always be here for you.” Their eyes, which had always held a flicker of disdain for me, were now filled with a desperate gratitude. We walked in the door at home, and my son, Leo, was there. He was back from his first year of college. I knew, with a cold dread, that the nightmare from my past life was about to begin again. 6 Leo was home for spring break. Last time, he hadn’t known the girls were staying with us. He’d walked out of the bathroom after a shower wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, toweling his hair dry. That single moment became the cornerstone of their accusation at the graduation party—the day my son began molesting them. This time, I had warned him. I told him his cousins were here and to be mindful. He walked in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a book in his hand. He greeted Hailey and Kayla warmly; they’d grown up together, after all, with him being only three years their senior. Leo was a student at a top university, a fact I made sure to leverage. “You girls should ask your cousin for advice,” I said brightly. “He can give you all the tips for getting into a great school.” They nodded eagerly and were soon deep in conversation with him. I took the opportunity to snap another picture for my collection. 【A full house! So happy to have all my children under one roof. Feeling blessed!】 The family’s likes and heart emojis were immediate. I set my phone on the coffee table, expecting a call from Linda at any moment. But it didn’t come. I’d overlooked one crucial detail: in this life, the twins had phones of their own. I saw Kayla’s phone light up with a text. She and Hailey exchanged a look, then whispered as they scurried off to their bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Minutes later, a text message appeared on my own screen. It was from Linda. 【You bitch. You will not steal my daughters.】 My reply was the same as it always was. 【Linda, if you want them back, you only have to come and get them. I would never stop you.】 A few quiet days passed. I began to hope that maybe, just maybe, I had dodged the bullet this time. But on the morning Leo was scheduled to return to campus, the screaming started. Hailey and Kayla burst out of their room, hysterical, claiming my son had molested them. They swore he had snuck into their room during the night, that he had climbed into their bed. They were shaking, sobbing, invoking God as their witness. In my first life, I had been horrified. I’d screamed at Leo, who denied everything, his face a mask of shocked betrayal. Robert, hearing the accusation, had beaten our son senseless. Leo had left for school that day and hadn’t come home for three years. And still, after all that, the twins brought it up again at the party, cementing my son’s reputation as a predator and shattering our family for good. This time, I looked them dead in the eye, my voice dangerously calm. “Is that what really happened? Aunt Clara doesn’t like it when children lie.”

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My relationship with Bob Croft started in college. We were together for eight years, and with our wedding just around the corner, he dropped a bombshell. He wanted his one true love, Monica Bell, to marry him as well. He wanted two wives. I fought back a surge of rage. “Are you telling me you want to make the love of your life your mistress?” Bob just shook his head. “She wouldn’t be the mistress,” he said softly. “You would be.” I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. Had he lost his mind? Did he really think he could make the sole heiress to the Crestwood fortune his mistress? … Seeing my silence, Bob must have thought I was considering it. His voice softened, turning persuasive. “Monica is just so gentle, and her family is… modest. If she were the one on the side, she’d be miserable.” “So you’re suggesting I take that position?” The fury was a jackhammer against my temples, but my voice came out eerily calm. Bob frowned, clearly annoyed by my question. “Vivian, I don’t want it to be this way. But Monica… she doesn’t have anyone. I have to look out for her. Don’t worry, you’ll both be my women. I’ll treat you both equally. Monica is incredibly kind; she’d never make things difficult for you.” When he first pursued me, he swore he would marry no one else, that his heart had room only for me. Now, on the eve of our wedding, he was dreaming of having us both, a perfect little harem. What a joke. A mistress is a secret, a lover hidden in the shadows. I took a step back, my disgust for him a physical thing. “Mr. Croft, please leave. Since you’ve found love elsewhere, our engagement is off. There’s nothing more to discuss.” He sighed, a look of weary frustration on his face, as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. “Vivian, the invitations have been sent. The venue is booked. If you call it off now, what will happen to your reputation? Don’t say things you don’t mean.” I trembled with rage. So that was their game. Monica and he had been carrying on for years, but she chose to make her move now, right before the wedding, because she knew I was backed into a corner. “So, by your logic, I should be thanking you for not just bringing her to the wedding as a surprise?” Bob’s face darkened. “It’s just a title! You’re Vivian Vance. Who would dare look down on you? Why are you being so petty?” “Besides,” he continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “what successful man has only one woman? I know you’re better than this. I know you love me. Show me the gentle, understanding woman I know, and don’t act like some bitter shrew.” I closed my eyes, trying to contain the inferno inside me. I couldn’t. I slapped him. Hard. I put all my strength into it, and the imprint of my hand immediately bloomed red on his cheek. Bob clutched his face, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Vivian! Are you insane?” “The invitations are out! Everyone in Crestwood knows you’re marrying me! If you back out now, who do you think will ever want you?” he snarled. “I’m telling you, you’re marrying me whether you like it or not! And if you want any standing in the Croft family, you’ll go home and tell your parents you’re voluntarily giving up the position of wife!” My expression was glacial. So that was it. He’d come today because he knew my parents were out of the country on business. He thought he could force me to submit, keep his own hands clean, and get everything he wanted. A thought struck me. “What’s my name?” I asked suddenly. Bob blinked. “Vivian Vance? Has the anger scrambled your brain?” I waved my hand, and the security team that was always stationed discreetly nearby came jogging over. “When we were dating, I didn’t mind you calling me Vivian,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as I remembered his outrageous words. “But now, I’d like you to address me with the respect I’m due. Call me Miss Vance.” “Throw him out.” Two towering guards grabbed him by the arms and began dragging him away. Bob stared at me in shock. “You can’t do this! I’m your family’s future son-in-law!” I scoffed. “Can’t I? If I wanted to, the line of eligible bachelors willing to marry me would stretch from here to Paris. Who the hell do you think you are, Bob Croft?” “Today, you’re going to get a very clear lesson on why Vivian Vance does whatever she wants in this city.” I raised an eyebrow at the guards and added, “Throw. Him. Out.” … Bob, seething, arrived home just in time to run into his mother, who had heard the news and rushed over. Seeing the furious look on his face, Mrs. Croft was about to ask what happened when Bob burst out, “This is all your fault! You’re the one who insisted I marry Monica! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been humiliated at the Vance estate today!” After hearing the whole story, Mrs. Croft’s simmering dislike for me boiled over. She secretly vowed to put me in my place once I was married into the family, but for now, she soothed her son. “That Vivian is just spoiled, not at all like our sweet, sensible Monica. Everyone in Crestwood knows what a temper she has. She’s lucky to be marrying into our family.” “She’s just young and foolish. In a few days, I’ll personally invite her over and explain the benefits of having Monica join the family. Once she understands, she’ll come crawling back to you, begging for forgiveness.” … After having Bob thrown out, I immediately had my assistant place an overseas call to my parents in Europe. Still fuming, I then had my driver take me to my grandfather’s estate on the hillside to vent. I assumed that would be the end of my dealings with the Crofts, but a few days later, an invitation to a party at their home arrived. My secretary and assistant both advised me not to go. But I wasn’t having it. “I’m not the one who did something wrong. Why should I be the one to hide?” When I arrived at the Croft manor, I had barely stepped out of my car when a woman in a delicate white dress approached me. It was Monica. She looked the picture of fragile beauty. Her brow was furrowed with concern as she glided towards me. Her voice was soft, but her words were laced with venom. “Miss Vance, everyone who’s anyone in Crestwood is here tonight. Why would you come dressed so… casually?” “Even if you’re upset with me, you shouldn’t embarrass Bob and the Croft family like this.” I gave her a single, dismissive glance and ignored her. In Crestwood, I wear what I want. No one but my own family would ever dare to comment on my attire. With a cold smirk, I pulled my phone from my clutch and made a call. “Manager Wallace? I believe the venue for the Croft’s party tonight is one of my family’s hotels, is it not?” “Clear the room. Immediately. Bill all losses to my personal account.” The color drained from Monica’s face. Bob rushed out from inside just in time to hear me. He shot a pained look at the teary-eyed Monica before turning his glare on me. “Vivian! Monica was just trying to welcome you! How can you treat her kindness like this?” I glanced at the growing crowd of guests, who were now pointing and whispering. I let out a chilling laugh and looked between the two of them. “Welcome me? In what capacity? As the future Mrs. Croft? Anyone who didn’t know better would think he’s already married her.” A murmur went through the crowd as faces shifted with intrigue. “Isn’t that the Miss Bell who’s always with Mr. Croft? When did things become official?” “Even if she’s his girlfriend, it’s not her place to greet guests. That’s against all protocol…” “His actual fiancée is standing right there, and she’s already playing the lady of the house?” Bob’s expression turned grim. He reached for my hand, but I snatched it away. “That’s enough, Vivian!” he hissed under his breath. “Do you have to be so aggressive? Are you trying to ruin Monica’s reputation?” Just then, Mrs. Croft bustled out, ever the peacemaker. “Goodness, whatever misunderstanding has occurred, can’t we discuss it inside? Must we make a scene at the front door for everyone to gossip about?” She then turned and made a show of scolding Monica. “And you! Vivian can wear whatever she pleases. It’s not your place to comment.” A flicker of resentment crossed Monica’s face, but she maintained her gentle facade and curtsied to me. “It was my mistake, Miss Vance. Please, forgive me. Don’t be angry with Bob.” Her performance of a long-suffering victim made Bob’s heart ache for her, and his anger toward me intensified. He decided then and there that after the wedding, he would give me the cold shoulder to teach me a lesson. Mrs. Croft was trying to frame the entire conflict as a simple lover’s quarrel. Some of the guests started to chime in. “Come now, Miss Vance, let it go. For my sake, let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill.” Another, a woman with a sanctimonious air, clucked her tongue at me. “Miss Vance, one must know when to be merciful. A young lady should be more magnanimous.”

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Three years. That’s how long it had been. Stepping off the plane at JFK, the crisp New York air was a shock to the system. The first thing I did was call Leo. Then I called him again. And again. A dozen calls, each one swallowed by the dead air of his voicemail. Then, something impossible happened. Shimmering, translucent text began to scroll across my vision, like a glitch in reality itself. 【Oh, hell no. The villainess is back early. This is going to derail everything.】 【The timing couldn’t be worse. Chloe just had the baby. Leo needs to be focused on winning her back, not dealing with this obsessive ex.】 【Don’t worry, it’s part of the plan. He’s going to trick her into finding the baby and raising it as her own. She’s about to become the world’s most bitter nanny.】 I blinked, shaking my head as if to clear it. Just then, my phone buzzed to life. Leo. “Stella,” he said, his voice rushed, clipped. “Something’s come up. I’m at the old lodge upstate. Just meet me there tonight.” 【Here we go. The setup. The lodge is completely deserted. She’ll have no choice but to take the baby.】 Before I could reply, the line went dead. In that split second of silence, I could have sworn I heard the soft sigh of a woman in the background. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel of the rental. For a long moment, I stared at the GPS, its cheerful line pointing me north toward the Catskills. Then, with a decisive twist, I spun the car around and merged onto the highway, heading in the exact opposite direction. 1 【Wait… what? She’s not going?】 【That’s not right. She’s his lapdog. He says jump, she asks how high. Why isn’t she obeying?】 【What about the baby?! Is she just going to let it die? A newborn, left alone in that empty lodge… it’ll freeze to death!】 Fat, heavy snowflakes began to drift down, blanketing the world in white. I watched the frantic text scroll past my eyes, my heart a cold, hard knot in my chest. So, that was it. I was the designated villain in some twisted romance novel. The plot, as laid out by my phantom commentators, was sickeningly simple. Leo, my Leo, gets drugged at a business meeting and has a one-night stand with a doe-eyed waitress, Chloe. She, of course, gets pregnant and vanishes. What follows is a dramatic cat-and-mouse game. He pursues her, she flees, their passion reignited with every clandestine meeting. Once the child is born, there’s just one inconvenient obstacle: me. His fiancée. So, he concocts a plan to leave the baby on a remote doorstep for me to find, saddling me with his illegitimate child. In this story, we would marry, but he would vow never to touch me, remaining faithful to his one true love. I would live out my days as a barren wife, pouring all my love into a child that wasn’t mine. A son who would grow up to despise me. The ghostly text had shown me the finale: me, paralyzed by a sudden illness, helpless in my bed. My adopted son, the boy I raised, would be the one to poison me slowly, torturing me until my last breath. His revenge for the crime of standing between his parents. After my death, Leo and Chloe would finally unite their perfect family. Chloe, the story’s benevolent heroine, would look at my portrait with pity, forgiving me for “hoarding” her husband and child, and wishing that in my next life, I would be reborn as a beast of burden to atone for my sins. My hands trembled on the wheel, not with sorrow, but with a white-hot rage. I had defied my family for him. Turned my back on a strategic marriage alliance to sponsor a brilliant, destitute student I’d met in the city. When I found Leo, he was half-dead in an alley, beaten bloody by loan sharks. I paid for his recovery. I settled his family’s debts. I funded his mother’s life-saving surgery. I remember him looking up at me, his eyes wet with devotion. “Stella,” he’d whispered, “I’m yours for life.” When my own parents fell ill and I had to move overseas to manage the family’s international affairs, he held my hands, his gaze earnest and true. “Go take care of them, Stella. I’ll be here. This will always be your home. When you come back, we’ll get married.” I handed him the keys to my domestic operations, my entire portfolio of companies. I leveraged my connections abroad to secure him funding, to build his name. In three short years, he had become a titan of industry. And the first thing he did with that power was become the protagonist of a trashy novel—cheating, fathering a child, and plotting to ruin my life to complete his perfect little family. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. All those years of love, of support, of sacrifice… to him, they were just chains he was desperate to break. Fine, Leo. You want your freedom? You can have it. The Uber turned through the gates of my estate on Long Island. I hadn’t been back in years, but even in the dead of night, the place was ablaze with light. My father had commissioned it for me, a masterpiece of modern architecture completed just before the New Year. This was the first chance I’d had to see it. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand hall, I saw the custom-made, eight-hundred-thousand-dollar crystal chandelier I’d designed, its light scattered like a captured galaxy. Ornate decorations draped from the vaulted ceiling, all centered on a massive birthday portrait. The girl in the photo, beaming like a princess, was not me. 【Chloe’s birthday party is stunning! So magical.】 【I heard Leo spent a fortune on this, flew in the world’s best chefs!】 【Forget the chefs, he’s giving her this entire estate! Talk about devoted…】 My estate. He was giving my estate to his mistress. Leo, you audacious bastard. There she was, Chloe, standing at the entrance like she owned the place. She was wearing one of my couture gowns and, around her neck, the emerald necklace that had belonged to my grandmother. “What is this? Do you know where you are?” she sneered, her eyes raking over the simple black car I’d arrived in. “You probably can’t even afford to replace the grass you’re standing on. Security! Get this trash out of here.” Her friends giggled, pointing at my Uber. I had told Leo I’d arrange my own transport, never imagining he’d stand me up so completely. To them, I was just some hired driver, an insect to be flicked away. I walked forward, my steps silent on the heated stone. Before she could react, I snatched the necklace from her throat and struck her across the face. The sound of the slap was sharp, clean, and utterly satisfying. “The only one getting out,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “is you.” Chloe stared, her hand flying to her reddening cheek. The shimmering text in the air went haywire. 【HOLY SHIT! The villain just snapped! She hit the heroine at her own birthday party!】 【Where are the bodyguards?! Throw her out!】 【Uh… guys? Isn’t this technically… her house?】 That last comment was lost in the flood. Chloe let out a piercing shriek. Her friends swarmed around her, one of them pointing a trembling finger at me. “Do you have any idea who she is? How dare you touch her!” I just smiled, weighing the heavy emerald in my palm. The friend grew bolder. “You couldn’t afford a single stone in that necklace if you sold your pathetic life! Get on your knees and apologize to Chloe right now!” “What’s going on here?!” A figure burst through the doorway, shaking snow from his designer coat as he rushed to Chloe’s side, pulling her into a protective embrace. It was Leo. My boyfriend of three years, who I hadn’t laid eyes on until this very moment. He looked from Chloe’s tear-streaked face to me, and the anger in his eyes morphed into stunned disbelief. “Stella? What are you doing here?” At the sound of my name, Chloe stiffened. She gripped Leo’s arm, and they exchanged a look—a flicker of shared conspiracy. So, the little ingenue knew exactly who I was. How cold-blooded do you have to be to plan on handing your own child over to the woman you’re betraying? A security guard approached nervously. “Mr. Blackwood, do you know this woman?” Leo nodded, his eyes darting past me, scanning the car I’d arrived in. I knew what he was looking for. Chloe, ever the performer, composed herself. “It’s alright,” she announced to the crowd, her voice trembling gracefully. “She’s… an old neighbor of Leo’s. She’s always been a little obsessed with him. I heard she just got dumped. It must have unhinged her.” A wave of understanding rippled through the guests. Their expressions shifted from confusion to contempt. “A stalker? How pathetic.” “Chloe is too kind, honestly. Being so gracious to a desperate hanger-on.” “Leo and Chloe built their success together from nothing. This woman needs to accept that she lost and crawl back into whatever hole she came from.” I let out a short, sharp laugh that cut through the murmurs. “From nothing?” I locked eyes with Leo. He flinched, looking away. He knew. Without the money I’d poured into his education, his mother’s health, his first business venture, he wouldn’t have a penny to his name. He’s be a bloody smear in a back alley. He had sworn to make something of himself, and I had handed him every resource, every connection, every opportunity to do so. Even from halfway across the world, my support had never wavered. But his guilt was fleeting. “Chloe was the one by my side these last three years,” he snarled, his voice regaining its strength. “What have you done?” My face hardened. He took a step toward my car, his voice rising for the benefit of the audience. “Look, Chloe and I aren’t cruel people. We won’t abandon you. Even if you’re coming back with a kid, we’ll help you take care of it…” His words trailed off. His bravado crumbled into confusion, then raw anxiety. He had wrenched open the front door, then the back. He even popped the trunk. There was nothing. Only my suitcase. No baby. Leo’s face went chalk-white. He spun around, grabbing my shoulders, his grip bruising. “You didn’t go to the lodge, did you?” he whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of fear and rage. The pain was sharp, and I shoved him away in disgust. “It’s a derelict building in the middle of nowhere. Why on earth would I go there on a night like this?” “I told you to go there!” he roared, his control finally shattering. “Why don’t you ever just listen! If something… if something happened, I will never forgive you!” Chloe’s eyes widened in horror. In an instant, she understood. Her face contorted into a mask of pure hatred, and she lunged at me. “You bitch! I’ll kill you!” I sidestepped her easily. Hampered by the tight gown, she tumbled down the short flight of stairs, landing in a heap. A dark stain began to spread across the pale fabric of her dress. She let out a guttural scream of pain. Leo’s head snapped toward me. He strode forward and slapped me, hard. My head rang, and a fiery pain exploded across my cheek. “If anything happens to Chloe or the baby, you’re dead,” he hissed, his face inches from mine, his eyes promising murder. He jabbed a finger at my chest, as if marking his sworn enemy. He scrambled for his phone, barking orders for an ambulance and sending his assistant racing to the lodge. I touched my tongue to the inside of my swollen cheek. It seemed a dog that won’t learn to heel must be put down. 【What’s happening? Isn’t the villain supposed to find the baby with him? Am I reading a bootleg copy?】 【OMG, their poor baby! Please be okay, please be okay! If the baby dies, that bitch deserves to burn!】 【Hold on… They’re the ones who left their own kid in the middle of nowhere and expected their rival to play babysitter. Are we sure they’re the heroes here?】 A fierce debate erupted in the shimmering text. I spat a wad of blood onto the pristine snow. Suddenly, a team of black-suited security guards swarmed me, pinning my arms behind my back. “You hurt Chloe, and now you think you can just walk away?” I struggled, trying to see who was speaking. A familiar silhouette stepped out of the light. “Julian?” I whispered. The text feed went wild. 【It’s the second male lead! The tortured one who loves the heroine from afar! He’s finally stepping up for her!】 【Yes! Get the villainess out of here! I’m ready for the love triangle drama!】 【Don’t worry, guys. The more arrogant she is now, the more pathetic she’ll be later.】 Julian? The second male lead? My parents were always working when I was young. I grew up with Julian, my father’s much younger half-brother. He was my uncle, but with only a few years between us, he was more like a best friend, a brother. I had always believed his affection was real. “You’re my guiding star, Stella,” he used to say, his eyes full of adoration. The man standing before me now, his face a mask of cold fury, was a stranger. The realization was a dull ache in my chest. He crouched in front of me, his fingers digging into my jaw, forcing my head up. His eyes widened for a second. “Stella?” Chloe, sobbing, threw herself into his arms. Seeing the blood on her dress, a wave of anguish washed over Julian’s face. He turned and kicked me hard in the stomach. “I can’t believe you’ve become this monstrous,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “You want to hurt people? Let’s see how you like it.” The blow had been delivered with full force. It felt like my insides were shattering. I collapsed, coughing up a mouthful of blood. My fingers fumbled for the emerald necklace I still clutched in my hand. “Julian… do you remember this?” It was from our grandmother, the woman who had raised us both. My initials were engraved on the back. He hesitated. Chloe’s weeping intensified. “I was just borrowing it! She attacked me, she ripped it from my neck!” she cried, pointing to a scratch on her skin. Julian’s face hardened again. “It’s a thing, Stella. Grandma would never forgive you for hurting someone over a piece of metal.” Whispers erupted from the crowd. “She’s a Vance? I thought she was a stalker.” “The Stella Vance? She wouldn’t act this unhinged… would she?” “Wait, if Chloe is so worried about a baby… whose baby is it?” Someone’s voice cut through the noise. “Hang on, isn’t this the Vance estate?” Chloe’s face paled. In the next instant, she feigned a stumble, her heel coming down hard on my outstretched fingers. I cried out in pain as she let out a theatrical gasp and fell backward. Julian caught her instantly. And I watched, helpless, as her foot kicked the necklace from my grasp. It skittered across the stone and disappeared with a soft splash into the ornamental pond. “Call the police!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet. “This is my house! I want every single one of these bastards thrown out!” Hearing that I was, in fact, the lady of the house, the guards hesitated. I pulled out my phone, but Julian slapped it from my hand, sending it skittering across the floor. “Think carefully,” he hissed at the guards, his voice low and menacing. “Who holds the power at Vance Industries right now?” The ghostly text flared. 【Damn, he’s so protective! I’m officially shipping him and Chloe!】 【Too bad he’s just an adopted son. Otherwise, the villainess wouldn’t dare challenge him.】 【LOL who cares if he’s adopted? Once Stella’s dead, he’ll inherit half the Vance fortune anyway. It’ll all go to Chloe in the end!】 Of course. More than one snake in the nest. “Lock her up,” Julian commanded. “For disgracing the Vance name, she’ll be confined for forty-eight hours.” The guards looked at each other, then moved toward me. I pulled a small, folding knife from my belt—a gift from my father. “Stay back,” I warned, my voice shaking with rage and pain. “I’ll kill the first person who touches me.” They paused, wary of the desperation in my eyes. But then a blur of motion—Leo. He kicked the knife from my hand. His face was a thundercloud of grief and fury. “You killed my son,” he choked out. Chloe’s eyes fluttered open, wide with horror. “Leo… what did you say?”

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