My five-year-old daughter jumped to her death at school. While her teacher frantically called and texted, I calmly turned off my phone and watched a movie.
In my past life, I’d rushed there in panic—only to find her lifeless body. The teacher claimed my daughter confessed to enduring long-term beatings before jumping. Even my husband accused me of abuse.
Yet I’d cherished her, never raising a hand or voice. When the medical examiner revealed her body—covered in years of bruises—I became society’s monster. My parents were driven to suicide after online harassment bankrupted them. I died in prison, beaten by inmates.
I never understood: how could my pampered child have those injuries?
Now reborn on the day of her death, I’ll uncover the truth.
1
“Honey, come have breakfast. I learned to make this just for you.”
Markus, ever the gentle and attentive husband, brought a tray of breakfast and placed it in front of me.
Looking at his familiar, soft smile, a shiver ran down my spine.
Markus had married into my family. Since our wedding day, he had been a stay-at-home dad, taking care of me and our daughter, Lily. For years, he had been meticulous and thoughtful, attending to our every need. My friends all said I had found the perfect man, a man as gentle as water. I had believed them.
If only, in my last life, he hadn’t stood before a crowd, his eyes blazing with fury, and accused me of being a monster who abused her own child. I never would have known that this mild-mannered man had such a twisted side.
“Honey, what are you daydreaming about? Come on, eat up.”
Markus waved a hand in front of my face.
Suppressing the storm of confusion and rage in my heart, I sat down at the table.
Across from me, my daughter was taking small sips of her milk.
My eyes instantly turned red.
Today was the day.
After she finished breakfast and went to school, she would jump from the building.
When I arrived, all I would see was her body. I would hold her cold form, crying until I nearly passed out. But her teacher would point at me, telling me to stop my fake tears.
I wouldn’t understand.
She would declare, with righteous indignation, that my daughter had jumped because of my long-term domestic abuse. That my daughter had even confessed she would rather die than go home.
As I was arguing with the teacher, Markus would arrive.
I would be filled with hope, expecting him to clear my name.
But he would stand before the crowd, his eyes red, and roar at me.
“From the day I married into your family, you’ve done nothing but beat and curse me! You never treated me like a human being!”
“For Lily’s sake, I endured it all.”
“I told you, you can do whatever you want to me, but why did you have to do this to our daughter?”
“I begged you countless times! Why did you have to push her to her death?!”
His words were daggers, his voice thick with tears. He would list my supposed “atrocities” for all to hear, painting me as a sadistic monster who reveled in cruelty.
My desperate explanations would be drowned out by the jeers and curses of the crowd.
Then the medical examiner would arrive. He would reveal the dense network of scars covering my daughter’s body. Old injuries and new, a testament to long-term abuse.
“Even a tiger won’t eat its own cub! This woman is worse than an animal!”
“Someone like her doesn’t deserve a husband or a child! She doesn’t deserve to live!”
“Her poor daughter, stuck with such an inhuman monster!”
“Letting her live another second is a pollution to the earth!”
With the “irrefutable evidence” before them, the insults would rain down. Some people in the crowd would even throw trash and rocks at me, wishing they could kill me on the spot.
Amidst the storm of hatred, I would be handcuffed and taken away.
In an instant, hashtags like #EvilMother, #VenomousWoman, and #PoorFatherAndDaughter would dominate the internet. I would be subjected to the most vicious online abuse and curses imaginable.
My parents, too, would be doxxed. Their company would go bankrupt. They would be trapped in their home, unable to leave without being pelted with filth and screamed at. Eventually, they would die in their home, their bodies left to rot.
And I would be tortured to death by my fellow inmates.
Even as I died, I never understood. Why would my pampered daughter have a body covered in scars and jump to her death?
The pain of my past life was still vivid.
This time, I would uncover the truth.
2
I ate my breakfast as usual. When Markus was about to take our daughter to school, I stopped him.
“Lily’s hair is a bit messy. Let me brush it for her.”
I led my daughter into the bathroom and closed the door.
Without a word, I lifted her shirt.
Her skin was smooth as jade, without a single bruise. It was a world away from the scarred body of my last life.
So, what went wrong?
Why, in just a few hours, would her body be covered in injuries, both new and old?
“Honey, are you done yet? Lily’s going to be late.”
Markus’s voice, accompanied by a knock on the door, pulled me from my thoughts.
I opened the door and looked at him. “I’ll take her to school today.”
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by a gentle smile. “Okay, honey. Thank you for doing that.”
He turned and began clearing the table without another word. His reaction was so normal, so unremarkable, that it was chilling. The more normal he acted, the more desperate I was to find the truth.
On the way to school, I couldn’t help but ask my daughter, “Lily, has anyone at school been bullying you?”
She smiled sweetly. “No, Mommy. I’m very popular at school. Everyone likes to play with me.”
I paused. “What about your teachers? Are they nice to you?”
“My teachers are all very nice! My homeroom teacher even tells me stories and gives me little presents.”
Her answers were natural and cheerful, her young face a picture of happiness.
I pulled the car over and looked at her seriously. “And what about me? How do you think Mommy treats you?”
She looked at me with her clear, wide eyes and answered without hesitation. “Mommy is very nice to me too.”
Then she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Lily loves Mommy the most!”
I hugged her, saying nothing more, and drove her to the kindergarten.
Her teacher was waiting at the gate.
“Lily’s mom! What a nice surprise to see you bringing her to school today.” The teacher greeted me with a warm smile, taking Lily’s hand.
“It’s a slow day at the office,” I replied, smiling back while subtly observing her.
She crouched down, still smiling, and playfully tapped Lily’s nose. “See, Lily? Your mommy loves you so much. She’s so busy with work, but she still made time to bring you to school.”
The teacher’s demeanor was friendly and natural. Even the way she looked at my daughter seemed genuine and full of affection. She didn’t seem like a two-faced hypocrite at all.
But that only made me more confused.
In my last life, I had a decent relationship with this teacher. She was kind, treated my daughter well, and was always smiling. The kids in her class adored her. I had tried to treat her to dinner several times to thank her for taking such good care of Lily, but she always refused, saying it was just her duty as a teacher. In my mind, she was a dedicated, fair, and excellent educator.
Yet this same upright and easygoing woman, in just a few hours, would publicly accuse me of being a monster who abused her child.
I couldn’t figure out where it all went wrong.
3
There were three hours until my daughter was supposed to jump.
But I was still completely in the dark.
The thought of my vibrant daughter suddenly becoming a cold corpse made me break out in a cold sweat. In my last life, everything happened so suddenly that I was powerless to stop it. This time, I would not let the tragedy repeat itself.
After a brief chat with the teacher, I left.
But I didn’t go far. I parked nearby and continued to watch. I stayed in my car even after the school gates closed and classes began, my mind racing.
Why, when I had done nothing wrong, did I become a universally condemned monster?
Why was my daughter perfectly fine when she left the house, only to be covered in years of old injuries and jump to her death after just a few hours at school?
Why did my thoughtful husband and the kind, upright teacher both turn on me at the same time, accusing me of crimes I didn’t commit?
The questions swirled in my head, leaving me more and more confused. I knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I forced myself to replay the events of my past life, searching for any clue, any thread that might unravel this mystery.
After forty minutes of intense concentration, it hit me. A flash of insight.
I immediately called my secretary. “I need you to find something out for me. Quickly.”
After giving my instructions, I waited in the car, my heart pounding in my chest. I desperately needed to know if I was finally close to the truth.
Ten minutes later, he called back with his findings.
Listening to his report, my hand holding the phone began to shake uncontrollably.
It was just as I suspected.
“I need you to do something for me,” I said, my voice firm. “As fast as possible. Spare no expense. And remember, don’t tell anyone.”
After hanging up, I drove away from the school.
Two hours later, the teacher’s calls began. One after another, frantic and insistent. When I didn’t answer, she started sending texts.
“Lily’s mom, something terrible has happened! Your daughter jumped from the school building! You need to get here right away!”
“Lily’s mom, why aren’t you answering your phone? Please come to the school as soon as you see this!”
The urgent messages kept coming.
I simply turned off my phone and went back to watching the movie I had started in the company lounge.
Half an hour later, the movie ended. I turned my phone back on to find every major social media platform flooded with curses and insults directed at me. Many people were live-streaming.
From the kindergarten.
In the video, Lily’s teacher was weeping, her voice thick with heartbreak.
“Lily was always such a good girl. All the kids and teachers at school loved her. I just don’t understand how her mother could do this to her, beat her so badly.”
“Once, Lily cried to me, saying she would rather die than go home. I thought she was joking. I never thought she would actually jump.”
“She was only five years old! How much suffering must she have endured to choose this path?”
“I’ve called her mother a dozen times, and she won’t answer. She won’t reply to my texts. It’s as if her daughter’s death means nothing to her. How can there be such a cold, heartless mother in this world?”
The teacher then played a video on her phone.
In the video, my daughter spoke in a small, timid voice. “Miss Davis, you can have all the candy in my backpack. Please, just don’t make me go home. My mommy hits me every day. I’m so scared of her. I don’t want to go home.”
Her eyes were filled with tears, her face a mask of terror. The sight made the teacher herself break down, covering her face as she sobbed.
The live-stream’s popularity skyrocketed. The comments were a torrent of grief for my daughter and vile hatred for me.
Markus was there too, clutching our daughter’s body, wailing for the cameras.
“Sophia’s family is rich, and she always looked down on me for marrying into it! At home, she was a tyrant! The slightest thing would set her off, and she would beat me and Lily! She never treated us like human beings!”
He rolled up his sleeves, showing the bruises on his arms to the camera.
“I tried to divorce her, but she threatened that I would never see Lily again. I couldn’t bear to leave my daughter, so I endured it. But I never imagined she would drive Lily to suicide! I regret it so much! Why did I ever marry such a venomous, cold-hearted monster!”
Just like in my past life, Markus delivered a heart-wrenching performance, his pain and grief palpable. The audience was enraged.
“Oh my god, how can such a disgusting woman exist?”
“She doesn’t even deserve to be called human! Her parents must be trash too, to raise a monster like her! I hope they all die a horrible death!”
“I’m shaking with anger! Someone please do us all a favor and get rid of her! My keyboard can’t do enough damage!”
The internet mob was in a frenzy, all of them seemingly desperate to see me destroyed. The power of public condemnation was terrifying. In my last life, faced with my daughter’s body, my husband’s betrayal, and the entire internet’s hatred, my spirit had been crushed. I was defenseless, unjustly imprisoned, and tortured to death. Even my parents had been dragged down with me.
But this time, as the same scene played out, as the curses and insults flooded my screen, I felt no turmoil.
Instead, I felt a thrilling sense of vengeance.
I put away my phone and drove to the kindergarten.
Seeing the massive crowd surrounding the scene, a small smile played on my lips.
The show was about to begin.
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I flew home early to surprise my sister Nikki, but found our villa empty. Then I spotted fabric peeking from a locked dog kennel. Inside, Nikki was curled in a crate too small for a beagle.
“Nikki?” I whispered, offering her favorite cream cakes. She shook violently. “No! Cakes are for Master. Dogs only eat kibble.”
Melissa’s sickly-sweet voice came behind me: “Nikki prefers being a dog.” My pregnant stepmother wore the Dragon Seal – our family’s power symbol that Mom split between Nikki and me.
Smugly patting her belly, Melissa said, “It’s a boy. Both seal halves will be mine.” I smiled darkly. She didn’t know Dad married into our family’s power… and became sterile after Nikki’s birth accident.
1
The cherished youngest daughter of the Shen family, now chained up in the yard like an animal.
The sight of the iron collar around Nikki’s neck sent a blade of agony through my heart. No wonder I hadn’t heard from her in the three years I’d been abroad. Every time I asked my father, he’d brush me off, saying she was buried in her studies.
Her bedroom had been taken over. The villa’s decor was completely changed, erasing every last trace of my mother’s presence.
I pulled Nikki from the kennel, trying to brush the dust from her clothes. The dress she wore was one I’d given her three years ago. Now it was little more than tattered rags, barely covering her. I took off my own coat and wrapped it around her frail shoulders.
“Melissa,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “How dare you treat a daughter of this family this way. You’ve got a death wish.”
“Is that any way to talk to your mother!”
My father, Mark, appeared behind Melissa, flanked by a group of men I didn’t recognize. Their eyes raked over me with open hostility.
“My mother is dead,” I snapped. “This woman is nothing.”
“Sarah! Melissa is my wife, which makes her your mother and the lady of this house! You will apologize to her this instant, or you are no longer my daughter!”
“A gold-digging maid from the countryside who slept her way into this family is not my mother. And you, Mark, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed to this house?”
My mother was the 75th heir of the Dragon Syndicate, a titan who straddled the worlds of legitimate business and the underworld. She commanded the Dragon Seal, giving her authority over eight thousand branches across the continent. A woman of immense power, who had somehow fallen for a man from nothing like my father. She had threatened to end her own life just to get her family to agree to let him marry in.
Nikki and I were our mother’s daughters. We both carried her blood. Before she died, she split her Dragon Seal in two, giving each of us a half and warning us never to use its power unless it was a matter of life and death.
Then, a sudden illness took her from us. My father claimed a young Nikki couldn’t be without a mother figure and brought Melissa, his supposed childhood sweetheart, into our home.
“When I agreed to let her in this house, it was as a maid,” I seethed. “Not as its mistress!”
Mark’s hand flew, slapping me hard across the face. “I’m the man of this house now! If you don’t like it, you can get out!”
I cupped my stinging cheek. “Don’t you forget, you’re living in a villa my mother bought before you ever entered the picture. This is our property. If anyone’s getting out, it’s you and her!”
“You ungrateful little—”
He raised his hand again, but Melissa stopped him, a picture of false sincerity. “That’s enough, dear. She’s just a child, she doesn’t know any better. I won’t hold it against her.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Sarah, darling, it’s not what you think. I haven’t been cruel to your sister. She’s the one who hates studying. She said she’d rather live like a dog.”
“I tried to stop her from moving into the kennel, of course. She threw terrible tantrums. When I refused, she went on a hunger strike. I was at my wit’s end, so I finally gave in. If you don’t believe me, ask your father. Or ask Nikki herself.”
Mark snorted. “Nikki’s a lost cause. She’d rather be a dog than go to school. A child that pathetic isn’t worthy of being my daughter.”
Nikki tugged on my sleeve, her voice a rough whisper. “It’s true, Sarah. I don’t like school. I like being a dog. I like the kennel.” She let out two sharp barks. “Woof, woof.”
“You are not a dog! You’re a person!” I cried, my heart breaking.
I scanned the grounds and realized with a jolt that none of the old staff were here. The butler, the maids, the bodyguards—all replaced by these hostile strangers staring at me.
“I don’t care what happened before,” I declared, my voice ringing with authority. “But I’m back now. And my sister will not be treated like an animal in her own home!”
Melissa’s smile was a venomous mask. “Of course, Sarah. From now on, you can be the one to discipline her. Clearly, we can’t.” She picked up a tennis ball from the ground and tossed it across the lawn.
Instantly, Nikki dropped to all fours and scrambled after it. She clamped the ball in her teeth and trotted back, dropping it into Melissa’s outstretched hand.
Melissa threw it again. As Nikki started to chase it, I grabbed her, pulling her upright.
“Nikki! You are a person, not a dog! You walk on two legs and hold things with your hands! Promise me, please, promise me you’ll stop this.”
She just shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, I’m a dog. I like being a dog.”
Melissa laughed, a loud, ugly sound, dangling the ball. “Want to play some more?”
Nikki’s tongue lolled out, and she panted excitedly. “Yes! Yes!”
“Enough!” I roared, turning on Mark. “Mom begged you on her deathbed to take care of Nikki! This is how you do it?”
He shrugged, completely indifferent. “If she wants to throw her life away, there’s nothing I can do.”
“The key,” I demanded. “Unlock the chain around her neck.”
No one moved.
I glared at the staff. “Are you all deaf?”
“Get the key,” Melissa finally said, and only then did one of the men move. So, they answered to her, not to me.
The moment the chain was removed, a wave of panic washed over Nikki. She ducked her head, trying to crawl back into the kennel. “I don’t want to be in the house! I’m a dog! I have to stay in my kennel!”
I swept her into my arms. “Shh, Nikki, it’s okay. I’m going to take you to a doctor.”
There was no time to clean her up. I drove her straight to the hospital.
The examination revealed a horror story. It wasn’t just severe psychological trauma; her body was a roadmap of abuse. Clusters of scars and bruises covered her chest and back, conveniently hidden by her clothes. The doctor told me she had been whipped and beaten with rods. There were large patches of burn scars from scalding water. She had multiple healed rib fractures. There was even damage to her skull.
Listening to the doctor’s clinical description, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. These people weren’t human. They were monsters.
I held Nikki tight. “Don’t be afraid, Nikki. I’m here now. I’ll protect you. No one will ever hurt you again.”
When we returned to the villa, Melissa was waiting for us, cradling her pregnant belly. “Sarah, dear. Your half of the Dragon Seal. It’s on you, isn’t it?”
My luggage was in the living room, torn open and its contents strewn everywhere.
“Who gave you permission to go through my things?”
“Sarah,” Mark said, his tone impatient. “Just give your mother the seal. The baby she’s carrying is your brother. From now on, all of our family’s assets will be his to inherit.”
I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “The Dragon Syndicate values bloodline above all else. Only those of my mother’s line can lead it to prosperity. You really think the bastard in her stomach is worthy of even being considered as the heir?”
Mark’s face turned a sickly green. “How dare you! That’s your brother, not some bastard!”
“She knows the truth,” I said, looking directly at Melissa.
She buried her face in Mark’s chest, sobbing theatrically. “I’ve only ever been with your father. How could you say something so vile about me?”
“Apologize to your mother!” Mark roared.
I ignored his tantrum, pulling Nikki with me towards my old room.
He kept shouting at my back. “Your mother spent all day getting your room ready! She even bought your favorite fruits! Is this how you repay her kindness?”
I slammed the door in his face, locking it. I could hear him yelling for his thugs to break it down, but Melissa’s saccharine voice eventually calmed him.
After giving Nikki a bath and changing her into fresh clothes, I watched her fall into an exhausted sleep before finally lying down myself. Tomorrow, my own people would arrive. And then, we would settle this.
I drifted into a restless sleep around midnight. When I opened my eyes again, the space beside me was empty. Nikki was gone.
Adrenaline shot through me. I leaped out of bed and ran out of the room.
I found her in the dining room. She was on her knees, serving breakfast to Melissa’s nephew, Gary.
Gary saw me and sneered. “My aunt said Nikki is going to be my wife. She was born to serve me.” He looked down at my sister. “Good dog. You did a good job today. Here’s a treat.”
He spat a half-chewed piece of bread onto the floor. Nikki immediately bent down and licked it up.
Gary roared with laughter. “You’ll even eat my leftovers! You really are a dog!” He then climbed onto her back like a horse. “Giddy-up! If you run fast, I’ll give you another treat!”
And so, my sister crawled around the room on all fours, with that vile boy riding her.
“Faster! Are you trying to starve? If you don’t speed up, you won’t even get kibble later!”
Nikki tried to crawl faster. Gary pulled a few pieces of dog food from his pocket and threw them on the floor ahead of her. She scrambled to eat them.
“Stupid mutt! All you care about is food!”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I launched myself forward and kicked Gary clean off my sister’s back.
He hit the floor with a heavy thud and scrambled up, screaming at me. “You bitch! You hit me!” He yelled for the guards. “Get her! Tie her up!”
“Who dares!” I roared, pulling Nikki into my arms and shielding her. “Gary, if you get on your knees and apologize to my sister right now, I might consider letting you live. Otherwise, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”
“Oh, listen to you!” he scoffed. “You think this is still your mother’s house? This family is run by Mark now! The Dragon Syndicate belongs to Mark! My uncle is in charge! Who the hell are you to yell at me?” He gestured to the guards. “Grab her!”
The bodyguards surged forward, seizing me and Nikki.
Melissa rushed over, playing the peacemaker. “Sarah, please. I’ve spoiled my nephew rotten, I know. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just playing with Nikki.” She gave me a sly look. “Tell you what. You give me your half of the seal, and I’ll make him apologize to you both.”
“You want the seal? In your dreams!”
Melissa’s face contorted with rage. The mask was gone. “You ungrateful bitch! Fine! Search her! The seal has to be on her!”
“So, the act is finally over,” I said with a sneer. “Watching you pretend to be nice was making me sick.”
“Hmph. You little tramp. If you were as obedient as your sister, I might have let you stay on as one of my pets. But you’re too wild. I can’t train you. I guess I’ll just have to have you sent away to be taught a lesson.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Once I have the complete seal, the entire Dragon Syndicate will be mine. What wouldn’t I dare?”
“Ma’am, I found it!” a guard announced.
He handed my half of the seal to Melissa. Her eyes gleamed with triumph. She took her own half from around her neck and clicked the two pieces together. “Perfect! The Dragon Syndicate is finally mine! An empire that spans a continent, endless wealth… it’s all mine!”
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1
At the university’s centennial gala, I ran into my first love, Seraphina Gilbert.
After giving her speech as the alumni representative, she turned to me in front of everyone and held up a diamond ring.
“You once said you would make me a wedding ring from a thorned rose. Now, it’s my turn to propose.
“Evan, will you marry me?”
The auditorium erupted.
Everyone was waiting for me to nod tearfully, to say yes. After all, my pursuit of her back in the day had been the stuff of campus legend.
But they seemed to have forgotten.
They forgot that my senior thesis project had been exposed for plagiarizing Julian Croft.
They forgot that Seraphina, who knew the truth, had publicly accused me of being the plagiarist.
At the press conference, as the representative for the brand that was sponsoring my project, she had announced the termination of our contract and called for me to be blacklisted by the entire industry.
The day my name was dragged through the mud, I fled the country.
Now that I was back, her friends were all trying to persuade me.
“Sera has been waiting for you all these years. Even after you humiliated her, you were still the only one in her heart. She even stormed the dean’s office, fighting to get you your diploma. Evan, she truly loves you.”
“Can you put your phone down and give me an answer?”
Seeing that I was completely unfazed by her words, Seraphina’s friend, Summer, was getting annoyed.
I calmly set my phone down and met her gaze.
“Sera may come from a wealthy family, but she hates it when people treat her differently because of it. Even though her father is on the Board of Trustees, she never used his position for her own gain. But for your diploma, she raised hell in the dean’s office! She almost got a formal demerit on her record!
“Evan, do you even have a heart? Do you feel nothing at all?”
Summer spoke with a righteous indignation, as if my lack of emotion was a cardinal sin.
I frowned slightly, glancing around. The other alumni who had been watching the spectacle quickly looked away, pretending to be busy, but their ears were clearly still tuned in.
The plagiarism scandal had been huge. So huge that even seven years later, I could still see the disdain and mockery on the faces of these onlookers.
Today was no different. I had just been heading backstage to prepare for the gala when Summer intercepted me with this barrage of nonsense. I didn’t know if she was doing this out of loyalty to her friend, angry that I had disappeared without a word seven years ago, or if she had been sent on a mission.
But to me, none of it mattered anymore.
I sighed softly. “What am I supposed to feel? It’s all in the past.”
My answer clearly wasn’t the one Summer was expecting. Her brow furrowed as she stared at me, completely baffled.
I understood her confusion. During our freshman year, my three-month, all-out pursuit of Seraphina had been the talk of the entire university.
When I found out she loved watching the stars from the observatory, I went to incredible lengths to find a meteorite fragment and personally craft it into a star-shaped necklace for her.
To spend more time with her, I risked disciplinary action for breaking curfew, camping out at the law library for three straight months, just so I could “coincidentally” run into her and walk her home after her late-night study sessions.
One stormy night, I heard she had a fever. I scaled the campus wall to buy her medicine and ended up fracturing my right hand. When she asked about it, I just laughed and said I was testing the limits of human endurance. Seraphina knew exactly why my hand was in a cast, but she quietly listened to my ridiculous lies.
That was the day she agreed to be my girlfriend.
After we got together, she gave me a matching moon bracelet, saying we were a perfect pair, destined for each other. To stop my “coincidental” late-night encounters, she gave up her habit of studying at the library after dark. And to make sure I, with my broken hand, could still eat my favorite sweet and sour ribs, this heiress who never set foot in the cafeteria, braved the greasy, crowded hall to wait in line for me.
Each of these small gestures took root in my heart, growing into a towering tree.
I thought this tree of love would blossom and bear fruit.
But the appearance of Julian Croft caused it to wither and die.
At first, Seraphina was clear: Julian was just a business arrangement, an arranged marriage prospect forced on her by her father. She told me I was the only one in her heart. As the sole heiress to her family’s fortune, she had the power to refuse anything she didn’t want, and she told me not to worry.
I believed her. I never saw Julian as a threat.
But then, she started being late for our dates. She started forgetting our anniversaries. After she began to take over her family’s business, she was frequently seen with Julian at high-profile events, completely unconcerned by the suggestive headlines in the news.
After I protested, she pulled back a little. But then I saw a new report: a photo of her adjusting Julian’s shirt backstage at a jewelry exhibition.
On Valentine’s Day, she promised to make it up to me, but then she stood me up for an “emergency meeting.” I waited at the revolving restaurant until closing time, only to see Julian post a photo on his Instagram story. It was a selfie of him and Seraphina, sitting side-by-side in business class, smiling for the camera.
Looking at the flood of congratulatory comments beneath the picture, I lost all courage to even confront her.
The next day, Seraphina came to the design department with my favorite mint milk. Seeing my red, swollen eyes, she showed no concern. Instead, she slammed the bottle down on the table, her patience gone.
“Evan, I have promised you so many times that you’re the one in my heart. Julian and I are just compatible business partners. Is it really necessary for you to cry over this endlessly? Don’t you understand? When you’re like this, I can’t breathe!”
Tears welled in my eyes. I looked down and asked, “I never even said why I was crying. Are you admitting you’ve been getting close to Julian?”
Seraphina froze, her brow tightening.
“You’re being impossible!”
2
That fight was ugly. All the students who had never supported us took the opportunity to kick me while I was down. Gold digger, social climber, manipulator—every nasty label they could think of was thrown at me. I was worthless.
For the next week, I didn’t contact Seraphina.
In the end, it was Summer who played peacemaker, telling each of us a different story to get us in the same room.
The moment I saw Seraphina, my first instinct was to leave. But it seemed she had composed herself over the past week. She blocked my path with a wide smile, and before I could protest, she pulled me into a hug in front of all her friends.
“Don’t be angry anymore. I know I was wrong.”
I tried to pull away, but a cold chain settled around my neck.
“A belated Valentine’s gift,” she whispered. “I made it myself. It’s a set with the star necklace you gave me.”
Her gentle voice, the exquisite gift—it soothed my wounded heart. As my anger subsided, I was willing to talk. I pulled out my phone, showing her the news articles, Julian’s Instagram story.
“You said you were just business partners. Do business partners need to be so physically intimate?”
With one arm still around my waist, she took my phone. “Oh, that was a huge misunderstanding! He said he thought there was a stain on his shirt and asked me to check so he wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of the reporters. I didn’t even touch him! You know I have bad eyesight, honey. I just leaned in a little to see.”
A smile was already forming on my face, but I pressed on. “And the Instagram post? You lied about a meeting and went to dinner with him. How do you explain that?”
Seraphina turned me to face her, cupping my face in her hands and placing a soft, reverent kiss on my lips.
“Honey, I swear, the client changed the meeting time at the last minute. It was Julian who insisted we go to dinner. He said his stomach hurt because he hadn’t eaten all day.”
I playfully slapped her hands away, but I couldn’t hold back my smile any longer. I was about to let it go with a light warning when the door opened and Julian walked in.
He came straight towards me, his eyes already red.
“Summer told me you two were fighting because of me, so I rushed right over. Evan, I know Sera and I have a marriage arrangement, but we’re just friends. If it really bothers you that much, I can ask my father to speak with Mr. Gilbert. We can call off the engagement. I’ll even leave the country so I’m not in your way.”
It must have been raining hard outside, because he was soaked. After his dramatic speech, he shed a few tears and turned to leave.
I clearly saw a flash of pity in Seraphina’s eyes. She let go of me and hurried after him. Right there, in front of me, she used her bare hands to wipe the water from his face.
Her friends, seeing me standing there with a dark expression, started whispering among themselves, their words dripping with criticism for me, accusing me of being a bully.
Julian shot a timid glance in my direction.
In that moment, I felt like I was the one who should be leaving.
That night, I barely ate two bites before saying I felt unwell and leaving. I thought Seraphina would stay to comfort Julian, but she ran out into the rain after me, grabbing my arm.
She pulled me into the nearest coffee shop, placed a hot drink in my hands, then ran back out into the storm to buy a towel to wrap around me.
“Evan, don’t be mad at me. Julian’s family is extremely strict. If I really let him go home and ask his father to break off the engagement, he would face severe punishment. I only see him as a friend, that’s why I’m a little more protective of him. Don’t overthink it. My heart and my eyes are only for you.”
Seeing me shiver, she sat closer, hugging me tightly and rubbing my hands to warm them.
Even as my heart wrestled with doubt, her meticulous care convinced me to quell my fears and trust her again.
But in the end, she betrayed that trust.
After that day, Julian became a constant, blatant presence by her side. They discussed business strategies, jewelry exhibitions—they were so in sync they looked like a perfect couple. It wasn’t just the other students; even I started to believe they were dating.
Julian certainly acted the part. He came to me with the swagger of a victor.
“Evan, Sera sees me as a friend now. Soon, she’ll see me as a lover. Just you wait.”
I couldn’t find the words to argue back. I just watched him walk away, a triumphant smirk on his face.
3
It was a weekend. Seraphina had told me she was going to play badminton with her friends to relax.
I called her last minute and asked her to come see me.
She was furious. “Didn’t I tell you I was playing badminton? Now I have to flake on my friends. It makes me look so bad!”
I was full of anger myself. My voice was sharp as I told her everything Julian had said.
Hearing this only made her attitude worse.
“You dragged me all the way over here for this? How many times do I have to promise you that Julian and I are just friends? Evan, do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be in a relationship with you? At this point, should I just get your permission before I even breathe? Would that make you happy?”
“You don’t believe me?”
Her words cut deep. I bit my lip, my eyes filling with tears.
Seraphina met my gaze, and after a long moment, she sighed.
“Okay, look. I get it. Insecurity is a common problem for guys. If you don’t like Julian, I’ll find a chance to make things clear with him. But Evan, I’m begging you, can you please stop tormenting me over this? The pressure from my dad is already immense. I finally get a little time to relax. Can you please just give me a break?”
It was almost graduation. Her father was forcing her to give up her passion for law and take over the family’s jewelry business. The two of them were in a cold war over it. Her father already disliked me, so I couldn’t offer much advice. All I could do was give her space.
“I’m going to be very busy with graduation coming up,” she said. “Let’s not talk for a while.”
Then, she turned and walked away.
Watching her back retreat, a chill spread through me. For the first time, I had the thought: she wasn’t worth it.
For a long time after that, she didn’t contact me. But I would often see her and Julian studying together late at night in the library. I even found out from Summer that she had decided to give up law and go abroad to study jewelry design.
The next time I saw her was when my senior thesis project was selected by Elysian Jewels. They wanted to sign a contract with me for mass production. But as we were about to sign, a mob of reporters suddenly surrounded me, cameras shoved in my face.
“Mr. Fang, we’ve received a tip that your graduation project is a plagiarism of Julian Croft’s work. Is this true?”
I was stunned. I backed away, trying to explain. “No, I didn’t! You’re slandering me!”
Just then, Julian appeared, his eyes red-rimmed as he accused me.
“Evan, you’ve copied my designs for your homework before, and I let it slide. But this project… the ‘Thorned Rose’ collection… I designed it specifically for Sera’s birthday. She even helped me revise it. How can you still lie and say you didn’t copy it?”
Instantly, all the cameras turned to Seraphina, waiting for her answer.
I looked at her too.
Seraphina avoided my gaze. She spoke to the cameras, her voice clear. “The ‘Thorned Rose’ was indeed Julian’s idea. I saw him drawing the designs with my own eyes when we were studying together at night.”
I was frozen solid. I walked toward her through the blinding flashes, stared into her eyes, and asked, “Are you sure I’m the one who plagiarized?”
🌟 Continue the story here
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On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, Julian Hart, defying his own family, arrived with his true love in tow to break our engagement.
“Eva may be of humble birth,” he declared, “but she is the love of my life. Do not cling to this, Seraphina. You’ll only tarnish your own name.”
Fearing I would fall into despair, my parents sent me away to the city of Lyria for three years.
When I finally returned to the capital, Julian and Eva had been married for two years.
And at my own welcome banquet, Julian Hart—the man who had been willing to cast his family aside for Eva—pointed at his wife with a look of utter disgust and snarled.
“Who allowed you to come out and embarrass me? Get back to the estate, now!”
1
Upon learning of my return to the capital, my dearest friend, Princess Isabelle, insisted on throwing a grand banquet in my honor. She was a royal princess, and we had been close for many years. When Julian had broken our engagement, she was the first to stand up for me.
So, my carriage didn’t even stop at my own family’s estate; it drove straight through the gates of the princess’s manor.
Isabelle grasped my hands, turning them over and over, her brow furrowed with concern.
“Seraphina, you know Julian is the Marquis of Blackwood’s only son. As audacious as his actions were back then, he was still destined to inherit the title.”
I had heard as much in Lyria. The old Marquis had forgiven Julian, and he was once again the celebrated and respected heir.
“Are you still…” Isabelle began, her voice trailing off. She was worried I still held a grudge.
With tensions rising on the border, the Emperor was relying heavily on the Marquis of Blackwood to maintain peace. For me to remain at odds with Julian was not a wise move.
I simply smiled and shook my head.
It no longer mattered to me. Besides, I had returned to the capital for a different reason entirely—my own betrothal.
Many guests attended the banquet. Among them were the ladies of the court I was friendly with, and of course, those who came only to spectate and gossip. Everyone wore a pleasant smile, and on the surface, the atmosphere was one of harmonious celebration.
Halfway through the feast, a servant’s voice rang out from the entrance.
Julian Hart, the heir of Blackwood, had arrived.
A sudden silence fell over the hall. Every head turned in my direction.
I took a slow, deliberate sip of my tea, my face a mask of indifference, and glanced at the man stepping into the hall. He shrugged the snow from his shoulders, and a maidservant immediately scurried forward to remove his heavy cloak. When he looked up, his cool, distant eyes met mine.
For a moment, we were both lost in the past.
Three years ago, for the sake of the humbly-born Eva, he had caused a terrible scene, demanding our engagement be dissolved. I, a daughter of the most respected house in the capital, was to be cast aside.
I remember trying to reason with him, aware of the prying eyes and wagging tongues. “An engagement is an alliance between families, arranged by our parents,” I had counseled him. “This is a matter for them to decide.”
But Eva, hiding in Julian’s arms, had interjected, her voice laced with false vulnerability. “Sister, must you use my lack of parents to shame me? It is clear you have no intention of letting us go. You only use your parents as an excuse.”
Eva was an orphan, living at the mercy of her brother and his wife. She was a commoner, a girl who could be trampled on by the daughter of a mere county bailiff. Marrying into a marquis’s house was a fantasy beyond her wildest dreams.
Julian, of course, believed her. He was convinced I was merely feigning reason to prevent him from pursuing his one true love.
“Seraphina de Valois, drop the hypocritical act,” he had sneered, his face a mask of disgust. “You say that only because you know my father will never agree!”
His words grew uglier, designed to humiliate. “Even a beaten dog knows when to flee. Seraphina, have you no shame? Must I spell it out for you?”
“Eva may be of humble birth, but she is the love of my life. Don’t think your noble status gives you the right to act so high and mighty!”
As if that wasn’t enough, he looked me up and down and let out a cold, cruel laugh. “And you call yourself a highborn lady. This desperate, clinging act… you’re no better than a common harlot.”
His words sent shockwaves through the assembly. And with them, he shattered the decades-long bond between the House of Blackwood and my own, the House of de Valois.
On that day, he destroyed my coming-of-age ceremony and turned me into the laughingstock of the capital.
2
The Marquis of Blackwood himself had seized a ceremonial cane and, in front of everyone, had Julian held down and beaten twenty times to appease my family’s honor. Julian’s back was a bloody mess, but he clenched his teeth and didn’t make a sound. The hatred in his eyes, however, burned hot enough to turn me to ash.
As if I were the one he should hate.
In the end, it was Eva who fell to her knees at my feet, weeping. “It is my fault, my lady, all my fault! I will leave Lord Julian. From this day forward, I will never appear before you again!” she cried. “I beg you, Lady Seraphina, in your great mercy, please spare him!”
She was always skilled at such theatrics.
It was how she’d first truly caught his eye. Dressed in a simple white dress, looking fragile and helpless, she had appeared on the main road. Julian’s horse, moving at a gallop, could not stop in time. He had played the hero, leaping down to sweep her small, slender form into his arms. She had gazed up at him, her eyes wide and full of adoration, tears streaming down her face, before fainting. I saw it all. And through her pale, tear-streaked face, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of a smile.
She was an expert at using her pitiable act to put me in an impossible position.
Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I maintained the dignity of a highborn lady and bowed to the Marquis. “I understand now that I am not worthy of the House of Blackwood. I am willing to step aside and allow the heir to find his own happiness.”
Ultimately, our parents agreed to cancel the engagement.
I didn’t want our families to become mortal enemies, and I still held onto some sliver of our past affection. So I brought healing salves to see Julian. He was lying face-down on his bed, a wretched sight, but when he looked at me, his eyes were filled with triumphant satisfaction.
“You’re smarter than you look, Seraphina,” he rasped. “If you had dared to harm Eva then, I would have pursued you to the ends of the earth.”
With that final, crushing humiliation, the bond of our childhood friendship was torn to shreds.
My grace and composure had saved my family’s honor, but my own reputation was still damaged by Julian’s actions. His cronies even placed bets on how long it would be before I swallowed my pride and begged for the engagement to be reinstated.
I stopped attending any banquets. I shut myself in my room for days on end, refusing invitations for spring outings and my friends’ birthday feasts. My parents saw my pain, and their hearts broke for me. Fearing I would succumb to melancholy, they sent me to my maternal grandparents’ home in the city of Lyria.
I was gone for three years.
3
Looking at Julian now, he had lost the wild arrogance of his youth. The black brocade of his tunic made his handsome face seem almost pale, like carved jade. He didn’t resemble the gruff, burly Marquis; he favored his late mother.
There was a time when I, too, had been captivated by his good looks, secretly thrilled by our betrothal.
But that was a lifetime ago.
Julian faltered for a second under my gaze, then a smile touched his lips. He strode towards me.
I turned to Isabelle, whose expression was grim. I knew then that no invitation had been sent to the House of Blackwood. To arrive uninvited was a serious breach of etiquette.
Julian first bowed to Isabelle, then turned to me, his tone intimate. “You’ve returned, and didn’t send a word? I would have ridden out to meet you. The snows have been heavy in the capital; the roads are treacherous.”
He spoke with a familiar, complaining air, as if we were back in the old days, before a third person had ever come between us.
I narrowed my eyes, a flicker of irritation rising within me. Julian knew better than anyone how crucial a lady’s reputation was. A woman whose engagement had been broken, even through no fault of her own, was subject to endless gossip and ridicule. For him to act now as if nothing had happened… I couldn’t help but question his motives.
Seeing my prolonged silence, Julian gave a wry smile and cut to the chase.
“I was too young then, too reckless. I hurt you, and it was all my fault.”
“That is why I have shamelessly come here today. I only wish to beg for your forgiveness.”
He waved a hand, and a servant hurried forward with a box containing a pair of magnificent Eastern pearls. They were a special reward from the Emperor to the Marquis for quelling a rebellion. As a gift, their value was immense.
Julian held the pearls up, his eyes filled with hope. “Seraphina, we grew up together. All those years of affection… you will forgive me, won’t you?”
I glanced around. People were beginning to whisper.
A few young nobles, eager to curry favor with the House of Blackwood, stood up.
“Lady Seraphina is hardly one to hold a grudge. The young Lord worries for nothing.”
“Lord Julian is a man of talent and virtue, unrivaled in the capital. For him to humble himself so… surely Lady Seraphina’s anger has subsided.”
“It’s been three years! Let bygones be bygones! Lady Seraphina, be generous and forgive our young lord.”
Hearing the chorus of agreement, a smirk played on Julian’s lips.
My eyes swept over each person who had spoken up for him. These were the same faces, the same mouths, that had mocked me for being jilted, that had laughed at my family for failing to raise a proper daughter, that had placed bets on when I would break down and storm the Blackwood estate…
And now they were telling me to be generous!
Why should I be generous? Why should I forgive?
I suppressed the rage simmering in my heart and, meeting Julian’s expectant gaze, I bloomed into a radiant smile.
“I thank the young Lord for his concern. I have heard that you and Lady Eva have been married for two years now, your greatest wish fulfilled. I was unable to send a gift for your wedding, so please, take these pearls back. Consider them a wedding present from me, by way of your own generosity.”
4
The smile froze on Julian’s face.
At the mention of Eva’s name, he instinctively turned his head away, his breathing suddenly heavy. This reluctance to speak of her surprised me. She was supposed to be the woman he cherished above all else. For her, he had ruined his reputation, lost a powerful alliance, and even defied his own family. Why was he now so unwilling to even mention her name?
I glanced at the group who had spoken up for him. They had all sunk back into their seats, their faces showing awkward, half-formed smiles. Isabelle gestured for a servant to lead Julian to an empty seat.
He sat in silence, then raised his cup and drained it in one go.
Isabelle snorted. “A little late for regrets.”
I didn’t reply. Julian was a faded memory, no longer worthy of my attention.
I turned to my friends and began talking about my time in Lyria. While not as grand as the capital, it possessed a freedom and vibrancy all its own. There was no nightly curfew; the markets remained open and alive all night, illuminated by thousands of lanterns.
As I spoke with a smile, I noticed Julian listening intently. Suddenly, he cut in.
“The southern air certainly suits you, Seraphina. You’re far more radiant and lively than before.”
“In all those years we were together, you always maintained that prim and proper facade. It made a man want to tease you.”
The undisguised intimacy in his tone brought the lively atmosphere to a halt once again.
Under the weight of everyone’s speculative gazes, Julian seemed oblivious to his impropriety and continued reminiscing. “One year, on a spring outing, your kite got caught in a tree in my family’s garden. You could have reached it on your tiptoes, but instead you came running to me in tears…”
Everyone’s eyes darted between Julian and me.
I looked up and met his smiling gaze.
A cold smirk touched my lips. I had no time for his sentimental recollections. “These are old stories, my lord. I’m afraid I don’t recall them. If you enjoy flying kites so much, perhaps you and your wife could go on an outing together. You could fly kites and whisper sweet nothings to each other.”
I paused, letting the sting hang in the air. “Oh? Why didn’t you bring your lady wife today? You insisted on bringing her to my coming-of-age ceremony, yet now that you’re married, you hide her away? Are you afraid someone might steal her from you?”
With that, I covered my mouth with my hand in a gesture of light laughter and turned to Isabelle. “What has the Lady of Blackwood become like? After captivating the young lord so completely three years ago, I imagine she must be even more beautiful and charming now.”
Julian’s once-gentle expression instantly turned to ice. A chill fell over the room. But Isabelle, a royal princess, had no reason to fear him. She was clearly enjoying his discomfort.
“Oh, she is quite a vision!” Isabelle declared. “It’s as if she’s tried to wear every last piece of gold and silver from the Blackwood vaults all at once.”
A few of the ladies, remembering something, couldn’t help but let out a snicker.
5
At the mention of Eva, the gazes directed at Julian were no longer filled with envy and flattery, but with mockery and a hint of schadenfreude.
Julian’s face darkened further. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain a nonchalant expression. “She… dislikes crowds. She is at the estate, practicing her embroidery…”
He clearly wanted to change the subject, but he did so by once again aiming his words at me.
“Speaking of embroidery, Seraphina, do you remember the sachet you gave me?”
“‘A maiden’s hands weave threads of love, a fragrant pouch for her heart’s desire…’” he quoted, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, designed to spark imaginations. “I remember the depth of our feelings back then.”
This time, he had truly infuriated me.
A sachet was not a casual gift. After our engagement was set, he had pestered me relentlessly, begging me to embroider one for him so he could wear it every day. I had thought, since we were to be married, that making a sachet for my fiancé was only proper. When the engagement was broken, that sachet became a symbol of a promise that never was.
What I couldn’t understand was why Julian was now so desperately trying to re-establish a connection with me.
Naturally, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to admit to it in public.
I slammed my teacup down on the table with a sharp crack. “Has the young Lord misremembered? The only one who would embroider a sachet for you is your wife. Or do you think my family is so easily bullied that you can provoke me time and time again?”
The threat in my voice was unmistakable. Even a fool could see I was angry.
But Julian seemed oblivious. He shot to his feet, pulled the sachet from his belt, and displayed it for all to see.
“Look, Seraphina! Surely you recognize this? I’ve carried it with me always! The bamboo on it, you stitched it needle by needle. You said you hoped I would rise high and remain resilient—”
Just as I was about to lose my temper completely, a wave of laughter erupted from the crowd.
I looked closely at the sachet, and even I couldn’t suppress a smirk.
There, stitched in fine red thread, were two crooked, clumsy characters spelling out the word: “Eva.”
It was obvious who the artist was. Eva had spent her life under the thumb of her brother and his wife, doing hard, rough labor from dawn till dusk. She would have had no time for delicate work like embroidery. She must have learned those two characters after entering the Blackwood estate.
Julian, still unaware of the mocking stares, was stroking the sachet, his gaze fixed on me with deep and focused affection.
“Seraphina, now that you’re back, you won’t leave again, will you? All those years we had together… the truth is…”
To prevent him from saying something even more compromising, I quickly cut him off.
“The young Lord is mistaken. While I was taught needlework by my mother from a young age, in the face of such a masterpiece, I must concede defeat.”
Isabelle was the first to clap, letting out a peal of laughter. Many others quickly joined in, creating a chorus of amusement. Even those who relied on the Blackwood’s patronage let out short, choked chuckles.
Julian’s intimate words died in his throat. He looked around at the laughing crowd in confusion.
Isabelle’s voice was just loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear. “The young Lord of Blackwood certainly has… unique taste. A sachet like that is truly not something an ordinary person could create. No wonder he is so devoted to his wife. It must be her particular… talent!”
Someone immediately chimed in. “They say Lord Julian dotes on his wife. It seems the rumors are true.”
“The stitchwork is certainly one-of-a-kind. Not something we common folk can appreciate.”
“He must adore it, otherwise why would he wear it so proudly? My own wife’s embroidery is merely average, and I certainly don’t have the courage to display it for all to see. I am not as devoted a husband as the young lord, it seems.”
The realization finally dawned on Julian. He brought the sachet up to his eyes.
In an instant, his face went from red to ashen, then to a deep, dark fury. The hand holding the sachet began to tremble.
“No, not this one. The one I always wore… it was clearly…”
Clutching the sachet, Julian’s mouth opened, as if to explain. But before he could speak, another servant announced a new arrival.
“The Lady of Blackwood has arrived—”
The laughter died instantly. All eyes turned to the doorway.
Even I felt a flicker of curiosity.
A few moments later, a woman dripping in jewels and pearls, supported by a maidservant, walked in.
6
Eva’s head was a thicket of gold hairpins and gemstone ornaments. They flashed so brightly under the light that it was hard to keep one’s eyes open. It was as if a golden idol from the royal temple had come to life and walked into the room.
I turned to Isabelle, finally understanding the strange amusement in her earlier smile. Eva was from a humble background, and having suddenly come into immense wealth, she seemed determined to wear every single piece of it on her body at once.
She took a few steps forward, the ornaments on her head chiming with every move. The sheer weight of them made her shoulders tremble.
Isabelle leaned in and whispered, “She made a fool of herself just like this at the Queen’s birthday banquet. And she’s wearing even more today than she did then. She must have done it specifically to show off for you!”
I curled my lips into a slight smile, my gaze shifting to Julian. He was crushing the sachet in his fist, his eyes fixed on Eva with a look of pure loathing and fury.
Eva didn’t dare meet his gaze. She gave her clanking gold and jade ornaments a little shake, offered Isabelle a stiff curtsy, and then turned to me with a forced smile.
“Sister, you’ve returned! It’s been so long. You must come visit me at the Blackwood estate sometime.”
At the mention of her new home, a flash of pride crossed her wide eyes.
Looking at her now, the last vestiges of my own resentment melted away. This garish, insecure woman was not worth a moment of my anguish.
I smiled and nodded at her, but my tone was anything but friendly. “The House of de Valois has but one daughter. I was not aware I had gained a sister.”
“Has the etiquette tutor at the marquis’s estate been slacking? How could she allow the lady of the house to appear in public dressed in such a fashion?”
A wave of muffled laughter rippled through the room.
Eva bit her lip, retorting defensively, “The young lord favored me and caused you to lose face, sister. It is only right that you hold it against me now…”
Before she could finish, Julian stormed over and seized her by the wrist. Eva cried out in pain, but instead of letting go, he squeezed harder. Veins bulged on his forehead as he fought to control his rage, a stark contrast to the calm composure he had shown upon entering.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to stay at the estate?”
Eva was in too much pain to speak, tears welling in her eyes. I cut in, my voice cold. “This is a banquet hosted by the princess in my honor. If Lord Julian wishes to display his authority or discipline his wife, he should do so in the privacy of his own home.”
Julian immediately released Eva and muttered an apology in my direction.
But Eva was not grateful. She shot me a glare, then gently tugged on Julian’s sleeve, her voice placating. “I heard sister Seraphina had returned, and you were all here to welcome her. As it happens, the hot spring villa sent over some fresh pomegranates this morning. I thought I would bring some for everyone to try.”
She held up a small, simple basket as if presenting a great treasure, a jarring contrast to her own opulent attire.
“My brother said that pomegranates symbolize fertility and good fortune. He said we should hurry and have a little heir!”
7
At the mention of an “heir,” Eva shot another glance at me, her chin held high. But her triumph was short-lived. Julian snatched the basket from her hand and slammed it to the floor.
The pomegranates rolled across the marble, and a few guests couldn’t contain their laughter. The heir to the Marquis of Blackwood, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, and his wife was parading around with a basket of fruit as if it were a rare delicacy.
It was clear from the reactions that this kind of social blunder had happened many times in the three years I was gone.
Julian, no longer caring about his image, finally exploded. “I told you not to leave the estate today! Are you deaf? Why must you always come out and embarrass me?”
Eva looked utterly bewildered, as if she couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. She clutched at her dress, trying to defend herself. “I… I heard that husbands and wives could attend banquets together…”
I remembered that after the marquis’s wife passed away, the estate had been managed by her former head lady-in-waiting. The lack of a new marchioness and the well-ordered household was one of the reasons my parents had approved of my match with Julian. But from the looks of it, Eva was now in charge. Had no one taught her how to manage such a responsibility?
Listening to the open disdain and mockery directed at Eva, I glanced at Julian. He was completely unmoved by her distress and fear, as if the woman being ridiculed wasn’t the one he had fought so hard to marry. His eyes were filled with nothing but impatience and disgust.
His face a thundercloud, Julian shoved Eva’s hand away and strode towards the door. After a few steps, he turned back, holding up the misshapen sachet, and demanded, “Where is my old sachet? Where did you hide it? Give it back to me!”
Eva began to sob quietly. “I… I’ve been practicing my embroidery. If you don’t like this one, I can make you a better one.”
A storm was brewing in Julian’s eyes. “I’m asking you about the old one!”
Eva’s voice became a whisper. “It was so old… I… I burned it…”
The sachet flew through the air and hit Eva in the face. Without another word, Julian turned and stormed out of the banquet hall.
8
After the banquet, I returned to my family’s estate. My parents were overjoyed to see me. Watching them secretly wipe away tears, my own animosity toward Julian resurfaced. If not for him, I would not have been separated from them for three years, causing them so much worry.
After asking about my life with my grandparents, my mother dismissed my father and pulled me aside, her voice low and cautious.
“My dearest, do you still think of that boy from the Blackwood estate?”
I was so shocked my head nearly shook off my shoulders. “Mother, how could you ask such a thing? After the humiliation he put me through? My heart is not so vast as to forgive such an insult.”
My mother hesitated, then finally told me what had happened after I left.
After our engagement was broken, the Marquis had refused to allow Eva into the family. He had even threatened to disown Julian if he married her. But Julian, blinded by love, not only moved out of the estate but also swore he would never return until he could marry Eva.
The rift between father and son was deep.
Less than a month later, the Marquis was dispatched to the northern frontier. Although he won the battle, he was gravely injured. Upon his return to the capital, he and Julian finally sat down for a long talk. In the end, the Marquis relented and allowed Eva to marry into the family, on one condition: they must produce an heir as soon as possible.
Julian thought his dream had come true, but he never imagined his wedding day would become the biggest joke in the capital.
As she recounted this, even my impeccably mannered mother couldn’t hide a smirk of satisfaction.
“Eva’s brother and sister-in-law, knowing their little sister had married into high society, brought their children and a whole horde of other relatives to the wedding feast.”
Before the ceremony could even begin, they started demanding a larger betrothal gift. Julian had been generous, even giving Eva a priceless jade bracelet that had belonged to his late mother. The Marquis promised them a large three-courtyard house and a thousand silver pieces after the ceremony.
But Eva’s greedy family wanted more, and they feared the Marquis would go back on his word. So, in front of all the guests, they threw themselves on the floor, wailing and rolling around.
The wedding of the Blackwood heir was attended by the highest nobility in the land. None of them had ever witnessed such a spectacle. The Minister of Revenue’s youngest daughter was so frightened she fainted on the spot. The scene was utter chaos.
And it didn’t end there.
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1
On my wedding day, compromising photos were leaked. My fiancée Maya took my stepbrother Brent’s hand and switched grooms.
Then her sister Lindsay offered me $10 million to marry her—despite my disgrace. Moved, I agreed.
It was all a lie.
After a crash left me near-paralyzed, Lindsay arrived with a property transfer, not consent forms. “Sign your company over to Brent, or stay on that table,” she hissed. Trembling, I obeyed.
Her love? A calculated act.
Years later, she fell to her knees, slapping herself. “You swore to love only me! Why do you have a child with another?!”
…
When I opened my eyes, Lindsay was gently moistening my dry lips with a cotton swab.
I turned my head away. She simply leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Darling,” she murmured, “I wasn’t trying to force you to sign just now.”
“Brent is your family’s stepson. Without any real assets to his name, it’s hard for him to find his footing in our world. He just called me, said Maya’s mother was screaming at him again. I was just so worried, I rushed you. With the company, he can finally hold his head high.”
Her eyes were filled with that deep, convincing affection. It would have been so easy to drown in it.
But this time, a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach.
The searing pain tearing through my body was a constant, brutal reminder of what had just happened in that operating room.
I’d been hit by a drunk driver. The doctors at the hospital said my spine was severely damaged; without immediate surgery, I’d be paralyzed for life. After more than ten hours of emergency procedures, they needed to use a new, adKinsmand technology—an artificial spinal implantation.
My wife, the one who should have been signing the consent form without a moment’s hesitation, showed no panic, no fear.
Instead, she forced me to sign away my company. The business my mother had bled for, her life’s work, was now in the hands of my stepbrother, Brent.
The memory of teetering on the edge of death was still a fresh terror. The woman who had cherished and protected me had used my future, my health, my very ability to walk as a bargaining chip.
Lindsay was still tucking the corners of my blanket in, her touch gentle and caring, as if she wasn’t the same woman who had threatened me for another man just moments before.
A bitter, acidic feeling rose in my throat.
Sensing my despair, she sighed. “Leo, you just had surgery. Getting angry isn’t good for your recovery.”
“The company is no use to you now; it would only drain your energy. But for Brent, it’s a lifeline. You’re his brother. Be the bigger person.”
“Besides,” she added, a perfect picture of loving concern, “I earn more than enough for both of us. What more could you want?”
Her words, meant to sound so considerate, sent a chill through my heart.
I lowered my gaze. “What did the police say?” I asked softly. “Did they catch the driver?”
A flicker of guilt. She touched her ear, a nervous habit. “Not yet. But don’t you worry, Leo. I will make the person who did this to you wish they were never born.”
Not a shred of remorse in her voice.
But I’d heard her. In the hazy moments before I lost consciousness, I’d heard her on the phone with Brent.
“Brent, you’re saying your friend was the one who hit him?” A pause. “He’s hurt this badly… I can’t just let this go.”
But after a few wheedling pleas from Brent, she had relented with a sigh.
“Don’t worry about Leo. He’s so in love with me, he’ll believe anything I say. I’ll just make up some excuse to placate him. Besides, he’s fine now. The surgery was a success, so what’s the big deal?”
Just because the man who nearly crippled me was Brent’s friend, she was willing to ignore my suffering and let the perpetrator walk free.
A numbing pain spread from my heart through my entire body, and I couldn’t stop shaking.
Later, my vision blurred with unshed tears, I wheeled myself to the doctor’s office to discuss my prognosis. On my way back, I saw Lindsay by the window, on the phone.
“Maya, don’t worry. No one in the family will dare look down on Brent now.”
“Don’t thank me. We both did it for him. He just chose you back then, so all I could do was watch over him from a distance.”
“And remember,” her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “the night you got Leo drunk, and I arranged for those photos to be taken… we have to keep that a secret forever.”
2
“As long as I’m here, Leo won’t be able to make any trouble.”
I took a deep breath, my eyes closing as I slumped in the cold wheelchair. The chilling words brought me back to my senses with a jolt.
The company was the last thing my mother left me before she died.
Less than three months after her funeral, my father brought Brent and his mother into our home. For years, my father had tried to wrestle the company from me, but as a man who had married into my mother’s wealth, he had no legal standing. He always failed.
Lindsay knew how much the company meant to me. And still, she had ruthlessly torn it from my hands and given it to Brent.
I had been a fool. Trapped in a scheme orchestrated by her entire family, a scheme that had almost cost me my life.
When the scandal broke, everyone saw me as a disgusting, cheating scumbag. Only Lindsay had accepted me, stayed by my side. During the two years of my deep depression, she never gave up on me.
But what I thought was my salvation was just her strategy to control me.
From the very beginning, her goal was to seize my company and ensure I would never interfere with Brent’s happiness. The life I thought we were building was nothing but a dream woven from lies.
I pulled out my phone and sent a text to a number my mother had given me years ago, one I had never used.
[Uncle Marcus, it’s time. Please come get me. I want to come to Emeria.]
The doctor who had come to change my bandages found me frozen outside my room. “Mr. Kinsman? You’re still weak. It’s cold in the hallway. You should be in bed.”
The door to my room flew open.
Lindsay stood there, her expression unreadable, but a flash of anxiety crossed her eyes. “Leo, when did you get back? Why didn’t you call me to come get you?”
I forced a smile as she wrapped her arm around me and guided me back to bed. “Darling, the wheelchair does all the work. I’m not tired.”
“I just ran into the doctor. He said I have a long road of physical therapy ahead of me.”
As the doctor changed the dressing on my back, cold sweat beaded on my forehead. The pain was so intense I couldn’t stop trembling.
Lindsay offered her arm to me. “Leo, if it hurts, bite me,” she said, her voice thick with pity. “Don’t just suffer in silence.”
She played the part of the doting wife so perfectly. If I hadn’t already seen her true face, I might have been foolishly moved. Now, I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. I just bit down on the corner of the blanket, ignoring her.
She looked at me, startled, and was about to say something when her phone rang, interrupting her.
“Brent? Don’t worry, I’m on my way now. Yes, I can handle it.”
She hung up, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Leo, something urgent came up. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”
“You be a good boy and listen to the doctor. I’ll bring you back some seafood bisque.”
She rushed out, completely oblivious to the fact that the doctor had just strictly forbidden any rich or spicy foods near my wound.
Her superficial concern was nauseating. The tragic joke was that I had mistaken all her past deceptions for love. A woman whose phone password was my birthday had been acting for eight long years.
Suddenly, a nurse rushed in. “Mr. Kinsman, great news! The hospital has secured a top-of-the-line artificial spine for you. We just need your signature to confirm.”
My heart leaped. The quality of the implant would determine my future mobility, my control over the lower half of my body. This was a miracle.
I hurried to the nurse’s station to sign, but the administrator looked up from her records, a confused expression on her face. “Mr. Kinsman, I’m sorry, but your wife has already authorized the transfer of this implant to another patient.”
Her words fell, and my heart plunged into an icy abyss.
I fumbled for my phone, trying to call Lindsay, but my fingers were shaking so violently I couldn’t even press the dial button.
The nurse looked at me with pity and held the phone for me.
Lindsay answered quickly. “Darling, missing me already…?”
I had no patience for her act. My voice was sharp, desperate. “Where is my artificial spine?”
There was a pause. She recovered quickly, her tone soothing. “Oh, that. Darling, one of Brent’s old university classmates has been paralyzed for years. She just wants a chance to stand again.”
My voice shattered with rage. “That implant was specifically requested for me! Do you want me to be like this for the rest of my life? Bring it back. Now.”
Lindsay sighed, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. “Leo, you’re usually so kind. What’s wrong with you today?”
3
“You’ve always disliked Brent, I know that. But you can’t be so cruel as to gamble with someone else’s health just to spite him!”
She hung up before I could even respond.
I called back dozens of times. Finally, she just turned her phone off.
The pain in my chest was suffocating. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.
For Brent, for a complete stranger, Lindsay had cast aside my health without a second thought. Her love was truly great. It was just a shame that the one she loved was Brent, and the one left broken was me.
The doctor took off his mask, his eyes full of sympathy as he looked at my bloodshot gaze. “Mr. Kinsman, in all my years, you are the strongest patient I have ever seen. Your spine was almost completely destroyed, yet you had such a powerful will to live.”
“The top-tier implant is difficult to get, but I promise you, I will do everything in my power.”
I let out a shuddering breath. As I reached out to thank him, I realized that blood-tinged tears were streaming down my face. My grief, my rage, my agony—it all poured out.
My heartless wife? I was done with her.
If she loved Brent so much that she would sacrifice her own marriage for him, then I would grant her wish. Let them have their great love story.
I spent another two weeks in the hospital. Lindsay came every day. She brought books to keep me from getting bored and massaged my numb legs for hours. She acted as if she wasn’t the one who had forgiven the man who crippled me, as if she wasn’t the one who had given away my chance at a normal life. The despair I’d felt when she refused my calls still threatened to swallow me whole. But now, looking at her hypocritical face, I was too tired to even scream at her.
During that time, my uncle Marcus arranged to have my official records wiped. Before sending his people to get me, he called one last time to confirm. “Leo, are you absolutely sure you want to come to Emeria?”
“I’ve thought it over,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m sure.”
I hung up the phone and turned to see Lindsay standing behind me.
“Darling, where are you going?” she asked, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
I curved my lips into a smile. “Remember we talked about seeing the Northern Lights in Iceland? I was just contacting a guide I know.”
She visibly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over her. She kissed my forehead, her voice full of affection. “Anywhere you want to go, darling, I’ll be right there with you.”
Her performance was so convincing it almost made me dizzy.
But one night, while she was asleep, I secretly opened her phone. She had a special folder of notes, all dedicated to Brent.
[Took Brent skydiving in New Zealand today. He was so happy.]
[Brent and Maya had a fight. To cheer him up, I bought him a small private island. He loved it.]
[Brent came over today and was frightened by the chihuahua Leo raised. Can’t keep an animal that doesn’t know its true master.]
Every entry was a fresh stab to the heart. She had meticulously documented Brent’s every mood, every preference. Yet when I had asked her to ride the Ferris wheel with me, she’d refused, claiming she was afraid of heights. When I was burning up with a fever, delirious, she was out of the country shopping with Brent. And my beloved dog, the one I had raised for three years, the one I had cried inconsolably over when it was poisoned—the culprit was her.
I scrolled, a self-loathing masochist, reading about how she had memorized Brent’s shoe size, his favorite brands. A bitter smile twisted my lips. It must have been so painful for her, suppressing her love for Brent all those years while pretending to care for me.
The day I was discharged from the hospital happened to be my father’s birthday. I didn’t want to go.
But Lindsay insisted. “Leo, your mother’s ashes are still in the family shrine at the villa. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
She had a point. I agreed.
She buried her face in my chest, her voice soft. “Leo, I knew you’d be reasonable. This is the perfect opportunity. We can announce the company transfer at the party, introduce Brent to the shareholders. It will make things easier for him going forward.”
“Darling, you always worked so hard you forgot everything else. From now on, you just rest. I’ll take care of you.”
Her words were sweet, but her mind was entirely focused on paving Brent’s way into the company.
The Kinsman family home was no longer my home. My life had become a living hell the day Brent and his mother moved in. Their schemes for favor and torment were endless. My own father, though alive and well, looked at me with nothing but disgust. My mother’s death had taken the man who used to give me piggyback rides with her. I had no expectations left for him.
And yet, when he saw me in the wheelchair, his stern expression softened, just for a moment.
4
Brent approached, with Maya on his arm. “Little brother, you finally decided to come home! You have no idea how happy Dad is.”
“I know he yelled at you back then, calling you shameless, but he was just worried about you. Afraid you’d catch some disease from your… flings.”
“I heard you were in an accident,” he continued, his voice dripping with false concern. “Don’t tell me one of your old flames came back for revenge.” He covered his mouth in a parody of shock that made my stomach turn.
“My health is fine,” I said coolly. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you… coming to a birthday party with a hickey on your neck? Didn’t you think to cover that up?”
His lips tightened. He awkwardly tried to hide his neck with his hair as Maya shot him a suspicious look.
“Don’t listen to my brother,” Brent stammered. “It’s a mosquito bite. He’s always loved slandering me.”
Maya, seemingly satisfied, drifted off to mingle. The moment she was gone, Brent leaned in close, his voice a triumphant whisper.
“Dear brother, do you know how many times Lindsay cried out my name while I was trying on this suit today? You can barely even stand now. I doubt you’ll ever be able to perform your duties as a husband again. You certainly can’t satisfy her anymore.”
I looked down, hiding the bitterness in my eyes. Lindsay’s excuse about buying me new clothes—she had been with Brent. So much for her silent devotion. In the end, she couldn’t resist temptation.
I ignored his taunts and turned my wheelchair toward the restroom.
When I came out, I saw him. Brent was holding a small urn.
My mother’s ashes.
He was tossing it up and down in his hands like a toy.
My vision went red. I wheeled myself forward, charging at him. “Are you insane?! Put my mother’s urn down!”
“Brent, I know you’re ruthless, but I never thought you’d stoop to disrespecting the dead!”
I shoved him. He stumbled, spilling his drink on his pants.
He leaned in again, his voice a vicious hiss in my ear. “Leo, your bitch of a mother gave birth to a bastard like you. Even in death, she’s nothing but a plaything.”
“Oh, are you angry now? That’s not all. I even pissed in the urn.”
Hearing him insult my mother, I finally snapped. I raised my hand and swung, slapping him hard across his smirking face.
The next second, I was shoved violently to the ground.
I lay there, helpless, my legs pinned beneath the heavy wheelchair, pain shooting through me.
“Leo, how dare you raise a hand to your own brother!”
Lindsay’s voice was sharp, all pretense of the doting wife gone. Her beautiful face was tight with rage, veins pulsing at her temples. Clearly, my slapping Brent had enraged her.
Brent, his eyes red, buried his face in her arms. “Sera, my brother didn’t mean it. Don’t blame him. He’s just jealous that my legs are fine. I provoked him.”
“You’re lying!” I spat, gritting my teeth. “He was going to smash our mother’s urn! Brent, I’ve put up with your schemes and your bullying, but I will not let you insult my mother!”
My father strode over, his brow furrowed. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was going to defend me.
Instead, he kicked me squarely in the chest.
“You’re just like your mother! A troublemaker, the both of you! Did you deliberately cause a scene at my birthday party? What are you trying to do, you little bastard?”
“Leo, let me tell you something! If Lindsay hadn’t begged me to let you in the door, I wouldn’t have ever wanted to see a degenerate piece of trash like you again!”
My own father, using the vilest words to humiliate me. The surrounding guests stared, their eyes filled with scorn. Brent’s face was a mask of smug triumph.
It was Lindsay who finally pulled me up and put me back in my wheelchair, diffusing the situation. “It’s just a family matter. Please, everyone, continue enjoying the party.”
She pushed me into a quiet corner, her grip on the chair handles tight. “Leo, you were in the wrong today. In a little while, when I announce the company transfer, you will apologize to Brent. You’re brothers, after all. Don’t make things too ugly.”
“You’re always so obedient, aren’t you, darling?” she whispered, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. There was no affection in her eyes.
She led Brent to the stage, ready to make her grand announcement.
I looked at her one last time, my heart a barren wasteland of grief.
Then, without looking back, I let the foreign bodyguards who had come for me wheel me out of the ballroom.
Lindsay, enjoy my final gift to you.
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1
“This woman is bleeding out after childbirth. Isn’t her husband supposed to be watching her? Where is he?”
I was about to make an excuse for my husband, Robert, to say he was a doctor and had an emergency at the hospital he couldn’t get away from.
Just then, I received a wedding photo from Robert’s best friend, Anna.
“Thanks for lending me Robert, sis-in-law,” the text read. “I had a great 30th birthday. Don’t worry, we won’t be consummating the marriage, lol.”
In the photo, Robert was kissing Anna’s cheek. Their entire circle of friends surrounded them, their faces beaming with happiness.
Meanwhile, I was hemorrhaging so severely that I needed a family member’s signature for emergency surgery, but Robert was unreachable.
When I finally managed to get through to him, his only words were, “The baby’s already born. Can’t you just give me a break?”
“It’s Anna’s 30th birthday. It’s important. Everyone is here; I can’t leave.”
“I promised her I’d be with her for her 30th.”
“Why do you have to be such a buzzkill?”
Right before I lost consciousness, Anna sent another photo.
It was a picture of a large bed. Robert and she were lying on it, surrounded by their friends, who were raucously celebrating their “wedding night.”
…“Oxygen levels are dropping. The patient is showing signs of shock. Get blood from another hospital’s bank, now! Notify all specialists to report to the OR immediately!”
The hospital’s emergency code, “999,” blared through the halls.
Doctors and nurses rushed into my room. I could feel my life slipping away, my body so light it felt like it could float off the bed at any moment.
Through the haze, I could hear a nurse’s gentle voice.
“You have to fight. Your baby was just born. He’s in the incubator. You haven’t even held him yet.”
“Don’t give up on yourself. Please, don’t give up. We’re doing everything we can to save you.”
Her voice was urgent, laced with a choked sob.
I had no strength to respond, but my mind kept repeating, That’s right, I have my baby. I can’t die, I can’t…
The hospital was pulling out all the stops, gathering the city’s top OB-GYN specialists for an emergency consultation, rapidly sourcing blood from every available bank.
“We still can’t reach the patient’s family. What do we do?”
“What is her husband doing at a time like this? His phone is off?”
“The patient’s… parents passed away a few years ago. She only has her husband. If we have to, we’ll proceed with the surgery. The patient’s life is the priority.”
The voices around me faded in and out. The silence was terrifying. Are they going to give up on me? Am I going to die on this operating table? Will I ever see my child? No, I can’t die. Robert won’t take care of my baby. If I die, my child’s life will be ruined.
I wished I could just be well again.
But all I heard were the frantic shouts of the medical staff. “Where is that blood? The patient is fading!”
“Have you contacted Dr. Robert from Central Hospital? He’s the top authority in OB-GYN. With him here, the success rate would be much higher.”
Dr. Robert? I wanted so badly to speak. To tell them that Dr. Robert, my Robert, was the husband they couldn’t reach.
But I had no chance.
Someone said with a sigh, “Dr. Robert probably won’t come. He took a special seven-day leave. Said he was getting married to his childhood friend and going on a honeymoon.”
“I thought Dr. Robert was going to be a bachelor forever. Whenever we asked if he was married or dating, he always said he didn’t need to. Turns out he was in love with his best friend all along.”
So, he had never told his colleagues he was married. No wonder he never let me go to his hospital for my check-ups. He said it would be an inconvenience for his coworkers, but the truth was he didn’t want them to know he had a wife of seven years.
“Forget Dr. Robert. He’s probably celebrating his wedding night right now. Let’s just focus on saving this patient!”
Their words were so clear, yet I couldn’t react. The anesthesia seemed to dull the pain but didn’t put me completely under. It was torture. I could feel the cold steel of their instruments, sense their tension, and feel the creeping cold in my own body.
Just when I thought I was done for, the head nurse shouted, “Dr. Robert answered his phone!”
2
But the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Robert’s.
It was Anna’s.
Her voice grated on my nerves, making the already ineffective anesthesia even more useless. I could feel my chest heaving, the pain unbearable.
“Robert, you should thank me. If I hadn’t made you keep your work phone on, you would have missed this call.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Robert’s voice was full of affection. “You’re the best, the smartest.”
When he took the phone, his tone became serious. “I saw the patient’s chart you sent over. With her rare blood type and gestational hypertension, it’s a very difficult case. You need to contact the family as soon as possible and get their consent.”
“Dr. Robert, we can’t reach her family. We’ve been trying, but his phone is off.”
Robert sounded angry. “His wife is giving birth, and he won’t even answer his phone? What kind of animal is he?”
“Dr. Robert, can you come over now?”
Anna’s complaining voice drifted through the phone. “Go on then… Just leave me here to celebrate my birthday all by myself.”
“No way, I’m not going.”
After comforting her, Robert spoke into the phone again. “I’m sorry, I can’t make it. We’re about to board a flight for a little getaway. I can connect you with someone else, though.”
Then he hung up, as if afraid they would try to persuade him further.
And that’s when I realized he had a separate work phone, a phone I had never even seen.
A nurse standing beside me, monitoring my vitals, murmured, “For a second there, when Dr. Robert was talking, I thought it was this patient’s husband. Their voices are identical.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. His wife was right there with him, you heard her.”
At that moment, the blood from the other hospitals arrived.
Along with the plasma came another doctor. I heard a chorus of excited voices calling him “Professor.” He immediately had the anesthesiologist check my dosage and increase it.
I drifted into a deep sleep and endured a long, life-saving surgery.
When I woke up, a nursing intern was sitting by my bed, recording my vitals. When she saw my eyes open, she immediately called in a team of doctors and nurses.
“Are you feeling any discomfort?”
I shook my head.
The lead doctor examined my incision and my chart, then looked at me. “Chloe Shaw, how long has it been since you graduated? Have you forgotten everything you learned?”
I looked up at him closely. It was Aaron, the senior student who had supervised our lab work back in grad school. He seemed even more serious than I remembered.
He studied me for a moment. “Your husband just sent a message to your phone. Do you want me to open it for you?”
I managed a weak nod.
He unlocked my phone with my face ID, and a notification popped up instantly. It was a charge alert from my bank account. A nineteen-thousand-dollar expense at a seaside resort for a honeymoon package.
Then, a message from Robert. “On a business trip. Be back in a week. Sorry, babe, just been so busy.”
But right after he sent that, a message from Anna came through.
[Sis-in-law, this ocean-view room is gorgeous! I had to share it with you.]
The accompanying photo was of her and Robert in a bathtub, looking out at the sea. There were even hickeys on her neck.
[Don’t you think it’s beautiful, sis-in-law? Robert said he’ll bring you here for your anniversary. Same room, same bed.]
3
Everyone in the room saw that message. A heavy, awkward silence fell.
Aaron didn’t say anything. He just turned off my phone and instructed the intern to monitor me closely. The nurse nodded and said something I couldn’t quite hear. I only saw everyone else trying to hide their smiles. Aaron’s face turned red, and he quickly left the room.
I was alone in that private room most of the time, with only the beeping machines for company, even on my birthday. On my birthday, my condition worsened, and I was rushed back into surgery. Robert sent a red envelope with a simple “Happy Birthday” in the morning and then disappeared. His social media profile was a blank line.
I spent my entire birthday in the ICU. Aaron came to see me constantly, looking more and more exhausted each time. When I was a little more lucid, I saw him standing outside the glass window, holding up a small cake. He mouthed the words, “When you’re better, you can have your birthday cake. Happy birthday, Chloe!”
He paused after each word, making sure I could understand. I managed a small smile and a weak nod.
Finally, just before midnight, my condition stabilized, and I was moved out of the ICU. Aaron was there with the cake, the candle lit. He asked me what my wish was.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I mouthed, “A divorce.”
Aaron paused for a second, then blew out the candle for me. “The heavens say your wish will come true,” he told me.
I didn’t get to eat the cake, but the fact that he remembered was enough.
The next day, feeling a little better, I was about to call my office to request leave when I saw a birthday message from Anna.
It was a video. A spectacular fireworks display over the ocean, with drones spelling out “Happy Birthday to You.”
The caption read: “Oops, wrong person, sis-in-law. This was from when Robert celebrated my birthday. Isn’t it beautiful?”
She then sent a series of photos. They were private maternity photos she had taken of me when I was pregnant. Robert had convinced me it was to capture a beautiful memory, that the body was something to be celebrated, not hidden. So I had agreed.
But Anna had taken those photos and entered them into a photography competition. And she hadn’t chosen the tasteful, discreet ones. She used the ones where my face was clearly visible.
“Sis-in-law, your photos won an award! Though a lot of people said your stretch marks are disgusting. They just don’t have an eye for art.”
After sending that, she pretended to hit the wrong button and sent a voice message.
It was Robert’s voice. “They’re not wrong, you know. Sometimes when I see all those stretch marks, I feel disgusted too.”
Anna not only won an award with those photos but also a hefty cash prize. Robert, who had been absent from social media for days, suddenly reappeared. Everyone in their little group was congratulating Anna, sharing my photos without blurring my face.
After I ‘liked’ one of the posts, Robert finally contacted me. He said he was coming back soon to see me and the baby, then casually ordered, “You should be getting discharged soon. Perfect timing, you can go home and look after Anna’s cat for a few days.”
I simply replied, “Okay.”
After a few more days of recovery, I contacted a divorce lawyer, had the papers drawn up, and sold the house that was in my name, along with everything Robert had ever given me.
I started a short-form video account, using the persona of the woman from Anna’s controversial maternity photos. It quickly gained traction. The photography association even contacted me, inviting me to be a special guest at Anna’s award ceremony.
Robert never came to see me, not even on the day I was discharged. His excuse was that he was too busy at the hospital. But Anna had already told me the truth: he was with her, helping her prepare for the ceremony.
The day of the awards was a grand affair. My photos were projected on a giant screen, cycling on a loop. Robert sat in the family section, his eyes full of adoration for Anna. He was even wearing the tie I had given him.
Anna held up her trophy, beaming. “I want to thank my dearest, most beloved friend, Robert. Without his constant care and support, I wouldn’t have achieved this today.”
Robert walked onto the stage with a bouquet of flowers. They embraced deeply. Just as Robert leaned in to kiss the corner of Anna’s mouth, the doors burst open. It was the police.
“Mr. Robert, Ms. Anna, please come with us.”
4
They stared at the police, stunned. They had no idea what they could have done wrong. Anna shrank into Robert’s arms, looking wronged.
“Robert, I didn’t do anything. Why are the police here? It wasn’t Chloe, was it?”
“She’s still in the hospital. And what could she possibly report us for?”
At that moment, I stood up.
The video on the screen had just switched to one of my more revealing maternity photos. This wasn’t one of the angles she had taken with my permission. It was clearly a candid shot, taken while I was changing. I hadn’t even known she was taking a picture.
But she had used this photo for the competition. Her motive was crystal clear. She wanted to humiliate me, to show everyone that I, with my imperfect body and stretch marks, was unworthy of a genius doctor like Robert. That she was the one who truly deserved him.
This was the photo that everyone in their friend group had shared. It proved they all knew what Anna was doing and supported her. Robert had probably given them some subtle encouragement, confident that I would just take it, that I wouldn’t make a fuss, especially now that I had his child. So they had all felt free to bully me, to share my private photos, some even posting them on public platforms, leading to a barrage of hateful comments. I had screenshots of it all from the backend of my own video account.
All of this was evidence for my police report.
The moment I received the invitation to this ceremony, I knew what I had to do.
I looked at Robert. “What could I report you for? This photo alone is enough. And even without it, I have other things. Do you want to hear them?”
Robert was shocked to see me. I had lost a lot of weight and looked much more haggard than a new mother should.
“You… what are you doing here?”
He started to walk towards me, but Anna held him back. He didn’t push her away, just kept asking me what was wrong, why I was so thin.
“Where’s the baby? Why are you alone? Is the baby okay?”
I let out a cold laugh. “So you do remember you have a child? You remember you have a child, yet you were shacked up with Anna in another city while I was hemorrhaging after childbirth!”
The moment the words left my mouth, the media outlets covering the event swiveled their cameras towards me. This was much more interesting than an awards ceremony. With the heat I’d already generated online, they weren’t about to miss this opportunity.
Robert and his little group of five immediately turned on me.
“Don’t you dare make things up! You know we can sue you for slander!”
“That’s right! Robert was just celebrating Anna’s birthday with her. We’ve been doing that for years. Why should he stop just because he’s married to you? Anna buys you makeup, and gifts, she’s so good to you! Why are you so petty?”
“Yeah!”
After the chorus of accusations, Robert turned to the police. “I’m so sorry about this. My wife just gave birth, she probably has some postpartum depression. This is all just a domestic dispute. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
But the police officer was firm. “Your wife has provided a complete chain of evidence. It strongly suggests that you and Ms. Anna have illegally recorded and used another person’s image for profit.”
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My father, upon hearing that his first love had passed away, was overcome with grief. He immediately donated his entire million-dollar fortune and became a monk.
He left my mother to fend for herself and her two children on the streets, where we nearly starved to death.
But my mother, through sheer will, started by picking through trash cans and then selling barbecue from a street cart. She not only fed my brother and me but eventually opened a restaurant and bought a house.
On the very day we moved into our new home, my father, who had been gone for ten years, returned.
He had cancer and wanted us to pay for his treatment.
1
I was at work when my aunt suddenly called.
“Minnie, I have some great news! Your father is back! Aren’t you happy?”
Hearing her cheerful voice, I froze. That man… ten years ago, for the sake of his first love, he abandoned his wife and children to join a monastery. Why was he suddenly back now?
My throat tightened. “Where is he?”
“He’s almost at your house! You must have missed him so much after all these years.”
Her voice was bright and chipper. “Don’t worry, he’s back for good this time. Your family can finally be whole again. You should hurry home, Minnie!”
I hung up, a knot of panic forming in my stomach. Did my mother know? She was the kindest, most soft-hearted person I knew. It had taken her years to recover after my father left. Our lives were finally on track, and I couldn’t bear to see her hurt again.
I immediately called her. On the other end of the line, I could hear her haggling at the market, her voice full of life and laughter.
“Minnie, honey, Mom’s busy stocking up right now. What’s up?”
Hearing her voice, I felt a wave of relief. It seemed she didn’t know he was back yet. There was still time. I had to get that man out of there before she came home.
“Mom,” I said, trying to sound casual, “I’m craving crawfish for dinner. After you’re done with your shopping, could you pick some up? The big ones.”
“Oh, crawfish? They’re not easy to find this time of year. But don’t worry, I’ll see what I can find after I’m done here.”
“Great. No rush. Take your time.”
I hung up, took a half-day off from work, and rushed home in a cab.
2
Standing in front of our townhouse were a man and a woman. I had no idea how they’d gotten into the gated community.
The middle-aged man was dressed in simple, worn clothes and a wool cap. He stared at the house, his expression impatient.
“Didn’t you call her? Why isn’t she back yet? This is ridiculous.”
He had aged. His once-handsome face was now sallow and sagging, but he still carried himself with the same self-important air, as if the world owed him its attention. Looking at his pathetic figure, I felt a twinge of bitter irony.
Years ago, he’d prided himself on being a literature major from a prestigious university and constantly looked down on my mother, calling her an uncultured housewife. He shamelessly carried a photo of his first love with him, writing poems and painting portraits of her.
When he heard that woman had died, he spent the entire night on the balcony, chain-smoking. I was young then, but I remember him clutching her photo, sobbing, “Rose, my love, I’m coming to join you!”
The next day, he sold our house, donated his entire million-dollar fortune, and had his head shaved. While the media praised their “heaven-shaking, earth-moving love,” my mother and I were thrown out onto the street. No one cared if we lived or died.
I truly didn’t know how he had the gall to come back.
“Minnie! You’re back!”
My aunt saw me and waved excitedly. “Come over here! What’s wrong with this child? Are you just stunned with happiness to see your father?”
My father followed her gaze and looked at me. His face darkened. “What took you so long? Do you know how long we’ve been waiting?”
I ignored him and asked coldly, “What are you doing here?”
My lack of enthusiasm clearly annoyed him. “What do you mean, ‘what are we doing here’? Who are ‘we’? Have you forgotten how to address your elders? You have no manners at all. What has that idiot Sarah been teaching you?”
Hearing him insult my mother sent a surge of fury through me. Did he still think he was the emperor of this household? Who was going to put up with that crap?
“Who’s the idiot calling someone an idiot?”
“I’m calling your mother an id— wait, you little brat, how dare you talk back to your own father!”
He finally realized what I’d said. Shocked and enraged, he raised his hand to strike me, but my aunt quickly intervened.
“No, no! Don’t fight! You’ve just been reunited after so long!”
She held him back, giving him a pointed look, then turned to me with a strained smile. “Minnie, don’t be like that. I know you’ve missed your father all these years and you’re feeling hurt. But he’s missed you, too. He’s back now to make things right…”
“Make things right?” I said sharply. “When he donated all our money and left us homeless, did he ever think about what would happen to Mom, to me, to my brother? And now he wants to ‘make things right’? Who needs it!”
My father stared at me, aghast. “What do you mean, I ‘left you homeless’? I earned every penny of that money. Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own property?”
He grew more indignant. “Besides, I was grieving. As my daughter, why couldn’t you have a little empathy for me? Is money more important to you than feelings?”
I had thought, hoped, that he might feel a shred of guilt for what he did. But he was so utterly self-righteous. I almost laughed out loud. I was done wasting my breath on him.
“I’m not going to argue with you. Please leave. You’re not welcome here.”
Sensing the situation was escalating, my aunt quickly tried to mediate. “Minnie, your father didn’t mean it like that. Why don’t we go inside and talk? We can all calm down. Arguing out here will just make us a laughingstock.”
“There is no way I’m letting you inside today. If you have any shame, leave now. Don’t make me call security.”
“How dare you speak to me like that! I’m your father!” He tried to hit me again, but my aunt held him back, shooting him meaningful glances.
He finally calmed down and lowered his hand, a cold sneer on his face. “Fine. Fine. I see you’ve become a heartless, ungrateful wolf in my absence. I won’t waste my time with you. We’ll see if your mother dares to keep me out when she gets home.”
I clenched my fists. His confidence wasn’t entirely baseless. Years ago, it was my mother who had pursued him, chasing after him for years before he finally, reluctantly, agreed to be with her. Throughout their marriage, she had been submissive, catering to his every whim. She forgave his affairs and never once raised her voice to him. If she saw him now, she might just soften and forgive him all over again.
I couldn’t let that happen.
“I said you’re not welcome here! Get out! Security! Security! There are intruders! Help!” I shrieked, grabbing a nearby broom and swinging it wildly, like I was shooing away stray dogs. If they wouldn’t leave, I would drive them away.
My father’s face was scratched and bruised. He retreated, yelling, “Minnie, are you insane? How dare you treat your own father like this! You’ll be struck by lightning for this!”
“I’m not your Minnie! My last name is Thorne, same as my mother’s!” I dipped the broom into a pile of dog crap on the curb and jabbed it at their faces. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
In the midst of the chaos, I heard my mother’s voice. “Minnie?”
I froze. There she was, at the end of the street, holding a bag of groceries, staring at us in shock.
How did she get back so early?
3
I tried to block my father from her view, but it was too late. Her eyes had already fallen on him.
He stood there, stunned for a moment. The woman before him was wearing an elegant silk dress, her makeup subtle, her posture graceful. She was a world away from the frumpy housewife he remembered.
He looked awkward, wiping the filth from his face and forcing a stiff smile. “Sarah, I’m back. And this time, I’m not leaving.”
I looked at my mother anxiously, terrified she would be hurt all over again by this man.
But she just smiled faintly. “Oh, it’s you, Arthur.”
Her smile confused me. I rushed to her side. “Mom, let’s call security and have them thrown out!”
But she gently chided me. “Minnie! What are you saying? That’s so rude. He is, after all, your father.”
Hearing my mother defend him, my father visibly relaxed. He had been worried she would resent him, that he would have to work to win her over. But it seemed his fears were unfounded. This woman was probably just thrilled to have him back.
A smug expression crept onto his face, and he reverted to his old, domineering self. He pointed at me, his tone disapproving. “Look at the daughter you raised. She’s a real handful.”
My mother glanced at me and shook her head with a smile. “That’s just Minnie’s way. Don’t mind her.”
Not wanting to be seen arguing in public, my father forced a laugh. “Why would I mind her?” He started to reach for my mother’s hand. “Sarah, these past few years…”
But she sidestepped him smoothly and smiled at me. “Minnie, open the door. Let your father in.”
“Mom! Why should we let him in?”
“Open the door. Are you going to disobey me now?”
I bit my lip and, reluctantly, took out my keys and opened the door.
My father watched my mother’s retreating back. He was slightly annoyed by her avoidance, but then he figured it was normal for her to be a little standoffish after all this time. He decided not to make a big deal out of it. His earlier anger vanished, and without waiting for an invitation, he strode into the house.
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I paid $200,000 to get my mother the best doctor for her chronic heart condition, only to discover that when it was time for her surgery, someone else was on the operating table.
And on my official city records, I suddenly had a new mother.
I tracked down this imposter. She was completely unapologetic. “Look, I’m already in the hospital bed,” she said. “They’re using all this fancy imported equipment on me. What’s done is done. Why don’t you just accept me as your new mom?”
I fought back a tidal wave of fury.
Using my legal status as her official guardian, I had this “mother” transferred to a women’s health clinic for a full mastectomy.
Then I prepared the lawsuit that would put her and her entire family behind bars.
This time, it was her son who went insane.
He stormed over to my house, furious. I just shrugged. “She’s listed as my mother on the official documents. What’s my mom got to do with you?”
1
My mom’s heart blockages were a chronic problem. I’d spent years working myself to the bone, saving up a little money, all with one goal: to get her the best doctor and cure this illness for good.
I paid $200,000 for a top surgeon and a procedure using state-of-the-art imported technology.
But when I arrived at the hospital to handle the admission paperwork, the administrator told me her scheduled surgery slot had already been used.
I thought it was a mistake. My mother was right beside me, weak and frail. How could her slot have been used?
“According to our system,” the administrator insisted, “the patient registered under your guardianship has already been admitted and is currently occupying the pre-paid room.”
I looked at my own mother, her face gaunt and pale from the constant strain on her heart, and I nearly lunged across the desk. I’d paid the full $200,000 upfront to expedite everything. Now they were telling me it was all gone? This had to be some kind of corruption, someone in the hospital stealing my money.
“Sir, this is a reputable institution,” the administrator said stiffly. “We would never touch a patient’s funds.”
I forced myself to calm down and demanded to see the records.
They were right. The records showed my mother’s slot had been taken. The patient was currently in the very room I had booked.
I stormed to the cardiac wing and burst into the room. Just as the records showed, a strange old woman was lying in the bed.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage. “What are you doing in my mother’s bed?”
She slowly lifted her heavy-lidded eyes. “This is the bed my son booked for me. What do you mean, your bed?”
I dragged the administrator back to the room to sort this out. He checked his tablet, then looked at me. “Sir, the records are correct. Her son completed her admission. Please stop causing a disturbance.”
I shoved my payment receipts in his face—the surgeon’s fee, the equipment fee, the room fee. Everything.
He glanced at them, then back at the woman in the bed. “Yes, that all seems to be in order. Your mother is right here.”
I thought I was going to lose my mind. My real mother was downstairs, exhausted and struggling to breathe. Who the hell was this woman?
The administrator was confused now, too. He cross-referenced the files. “Is your mother’s name Martha?” he asked me.
I shook my head.
“And you are Leo, correct?”
I nodded. Yes, I was Leo, but my mother’s name was Diane, not Martha.
He threw his hands up. “Our system doesn’t make mistakes, sir. Martha’s admission followed all correct procedures. Whatever personal issues you have, you need to sort them out yourselves and not interfere with our patients.”
I was stunned. If the hospital system was correct, that meant this woman, Martha, was legally my mother. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
I turned to the woman in the bed. “What is going on here?” I yelled.
She gave me a pitying look. “Son, are you upset that I used your money? Has it affected your mind? We’re in a hospital, you know. Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.”
The administrator nodded. “He might have a point.”
I wanted to scream. Seeing I was getting nowhere, I went back downstairs, took my real mother home, and drove straight to the city records office.
I’d gone there expecting to find a typo. What I found sent a chill down my spine.
My official family file had been altered. It wasn’t a typo. It was a complete replacement.
On the official record, under the line for “Mother,” it no longer read Diane.
It read: Martha.
2
I lost it right there in the records office, screaming at the clerks, demanding to know how this could happen. How could someone just change a legal family record?
To their credit, the officers there were patient. They understood my fury but warned me that if I didn’t calm down, they’d have to detain me for disturbing the peace.
Realizing they were right, I took a deep breath and apologized.
But when I asked how this happened, they could only guess that a new clerk on the night shift must have made a mistake. They said a woman named Martha and her son had come in and, somehow, her details were entered into my file.
“Fine,” I said. “Then just change it back.”
The lead officer shook his head. “We can’t just alter official records on your word alone. For all we know, the current record is the correct one.”
I was speechless. They could make a mistake without any proof, but to correct it, they suddenly needed to follow the letter of the law. It felt like they were deliberately targeting me.
I asked for the identity of the person who filed the change, but they cited privacy laws and refused.
Fine. If they wouldn’t help me, I’d figure it out myself.
When I got home, my mother didn’t know the full extent of the problem yet. Seeing my dark mood, she tried to comfort me. “Son, this illness is a burden on you. I’m an old woman. It doesn’t matter if I get the surgery or not. My time is short. Don’t waste your money.”
She thought I’d run into financial trouble. Her selflessness just twisted the knife in my gut. I told her everything and swore that no matter what, I would get her the treatment she deserved. Tears welled in her eyes.
My father, who had been listening, slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle. “Son of a bitch! I’ve been on this earth for sixty years, and I have never seen such shameless thievery! Stealing a surgery!”
“Dad, don’t worry,” I said, trying to calm him. “I’ll handle this. Mom’s treatment won’t be delayed.”
He looked at my determined face and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good boy. The first thing is to find that family and get our money back. Your mother’s health is what matters.”
I nodded, my resolve hardening into steel.
“Just get the money back,” my mother whispered. “That’s all that matters.”
I told them to rest. I would make that family pay for what they did. In blood, if necessary.
3
I immediately called a lawyer friend and explained the situation—the altered records, the stolen surgery slot. I wanted to know what crime they had committed.
“It’s tricky,” he said. “From the hospital’s perspective, the procedure was done correctly. The real crime is the records tampering. If you can prove they did that fraudulently, we can get them for felony fraud.”
With that, I drove back to the hospital.
Martha was propped up in bed, casually eating grapes and spitting the skins onto the floor. When she saw me, she grinned. “Ah, my son is here! Did you bring me a treat?”
“I am not your son,” I said through gritted teeth.
She sat up, looking surprisingly energetic for someone who’d just had major heart surgery. “The official records say you are. Are you trying to disown your own mother now?”
“Cut the crap,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Who is your real son? And how did you change my family records?”
The old woman just sat there, a smug, contemptuous look in her eyes.
That look sent a jolt of pure rage through me, and I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell me! My real mother needs this surgery. How can you be so cruel?”
To my shock, she threw her head back and started screaming. “He’s hitting his mother! Help! My son is beating me! Is there no justice in this world?”
Leo is being publicly shamed and framed, but he may have just found a crucial lead. Do you wish to continue reading to see how he turns the tables?
Her cries instantly drew a crowd of nurses and other patients, who began pointing and whispering. The head nurse rushed over and got in my face.
“I don’t care who your mother is! The name on the chart is Martha, and she is under your legal guardianship. You will not cause a scene in my hospital!”
“I didn’t touch her!” I yelled, exasperated. “She’s lying!”
Martha, adding fuel to the fire, lifted her arm. “Look! He left a bruise!”
It was clearly just a smudge of dirt from her own unwashed hands, but the crowd didn’t see that. They saw an old woman being abused by her son. People started taking out their phones to record me.
“She’s not my mother!” I shouted desperately. “She’s an imposter!”
This only made Martha more dramatic. “I raised a monster,” she wailed, dabbing at her dry eyes with a tissue. “My own son won’t even acknowledge me.”
A woman from the next bed chimed in. “It’s true. He never visits. There’s some other man, a stranger, who comes to see her all the time. Tsk, tsk. Poor Martha.”
My ears perked up. A stranger who visits her. That had to be her real son.
I pushed through the crowd to the woman. “You said a stranger comes to visit her?”
“That’s right,” the woman said. “Brings her fruit and things. If you ask me, he acts more like her real son.”
“Do you know where he lives?” I pressed.
Before she could answer, Martha cut in sharply. “Son, stop bothering people! It’s kind of him to visit, but why are you asking for his address? Are you planning to go threaten him?”
The crowd murmured in agreement, their glares intensifying.
“This woman is not my mother!” I pleaded one last time. “She stole my mother’s surgery slot, and now my real mom is at home, getting sicker by the day!”
Martha’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know you don’t want to pay for my treatment! You’re just angry I spent so much of your money! Fine! I’ll go home! I won’t get any more treatment!”
She made a show of trying to climb out of bed, and the nurses rushed to stop her, scolding me for upsetting a sick old woman.
I knew I couldn’t win here. I slipped out of the hospital, defeated but with a new plan.
4
On the drive home, I put the pieces together. Her real son visits her at the hospital. All I had to do was wait.
Meanwhile, my mom’s condition was deteriorating. She was barely strong enough to speak, and she could only manage a few bites of food. Seeing her frail body and sallow face felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Every day she got worse was because of Martha. If she didn’t get treatment soon, I was going to lose her.
I staked out the hospital for three days straight. Finally, one evening, I saw him. A short, grimy-looking man I would later learn was named Caleb. He was carrying a bag of browning, overripe bananas, probably scavenged from a market stall. He had the smug look of someone who thought he’d pulled off the heist of the century, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d committed a serious crime.
I crept to the door of Martha’s room and listened.
“Mom, has that guy been back?” he whispered. “You don’t think he’ll cause any trouble, do you?”
Martha laughed. “Don’t worry, son. He’s a total pushover. We yelled at him, and he ran away with his tail between his legs. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Great,” Caleb said. “So after all this, we’ve cleared a good $160,000.”
I frowned. The surgery cost $200,000. Why 160? Did it cost them forty thousand to get the records changed?
After a few more minutes, Caleb left. I followed him at a distance, all the way back to his home in a run-down apartment complex.
I knocked on the door.
A stout, hostile woman answered. “Who are you? What do you want?” she snapped.
5
I told her the whole story, pleading with her. I explained that we were just normal working people, that I had saved for years, that it was my parents’ life savings, all for my mother’s surgery. I begged her to understand the mistake they’d made and to return the money.
She didn’t listen to a word. She just muttered a curse and tried to slam the door in my face.
I jammed my foot in the doorway.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
This woman was clearly not one to back down. Her voice shot up to a piercing shriek, like a boiling kettle. “Get the hell out of here! Don’t you dare cause trouble at my home!”
The screaming brought another person out of the back room, a bowl of rice still in his hand. It was Martha’s son, Caleb. They were a couple.
“What’s going on?” he asked, seeing me.
I used the distraction to shove the door open. “I’m Diane’s son. Your mother stole my mother’s surgery.”
The color drained from his face. He dropped his bowl and tried to shove the door closed. “I don’t know you! Get out of my house!”
I pushed back with all my strength. “Have you no humanity?” I roared. “My mother is dying because of what you did!”
Caleb was clearly terrified, his only goal to get me away from his door. “Go away, or I’ll call the cops for trespassing!”
“Go ahead!” I shot back. “Call them! Let’s see who they believe!”
He was losing the battle for the door. It was slowly inching open. “I’m not here to make trouble,” I said, trying a different tack. “Just give me the money back. My mother’s life is on the line.”
“I don’t have any money!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “And I don’t give a damn if your mother dies!”
That was it. That was the line.
“Your mother’s life matters, but mine doesn’t?” I bellowed. “You think I don’t know you forged the records? This isn’t the dark ages. Everything is computerized. There’s a digital trail for everything!”
As we were locked in our struggle, the woman suddenly disappeared and reappeared with a kitchen knife, swinging it right at my head.
I jerked back just in time for the blade to miss my face, but it sliced a deep gash across my shoulder.
The woman screamed, her face contorted with rage. “If you ever come back here again, I’ll take your head off!”
She was insane. The wound wasn’t life-threatening, but I knew if I stayed, I might not walk away at all. I backed away slowly.
Before I left, I looked them both in the eye. “You wanted to play dirty,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
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After marrying my childhood friend, we were like polite strangers.
He was a man of few words, and I was cold by nature. Our marriage bed remained untouched.
What I didn’t know was that he could hear my every thought.
In the bedroom, I watched him, fresh from the shower, with a placid, emotionless expression.
But inside, my mind was racing: Would making love to him send me into a dead faint?
1
He’d probably rock my world. What was it that book Marcia showed me said…? Something about your vision blurring…
About your mind going completely blank.
James’s foot slipped on the wet floor, and he nearly crashed to the ground.
I lunged forward to steady him. “Are you okay?”
Why won’t that towel just fall? What’s he hiding under there? It’s not like a quick peek is going to make anything fall off.
God, those muscles are perfect. His fingers are so long, too.
“I’m fine.”
James’s words tumbled out, fast and clipped, as if he were trying to stop a runaway train.
He clutched the towel tightly around his waist. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my bathrobe, only this…”
Of course you couldn’t.
I threw it out.
It’s probably been shredded at the dump by now.
Tomorrow, the towel goes, too.
I released my grip on him and said coolly, “Be more careful next time.”
“…Right.”
2
James changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed.
I pretended to flip through a book, my eyes darting towards him from the corner of my vision. He was wearing a dark, long-sleeved pajama set.
An old, worn-out tee would be better. Easier for a little late-night groping. A shame I’d only ever dare to touch him while he’s asleep. I’m too scared he’d wake up.
God, I’m tempted to slip him a sleeping pill.
Then I could have my way with him.
I stared blankly at the words on the page.
James, who had just settled in, suddenly threw back the covers and got out of bed.
I feigned surprise. “Not sleeping?”
“Been having trouble sleeping lately. Going to take a sleeping pill.”
I didn’t think much of it and went back to my book.
When James returned, he was wearing a different shirt. It was that old, worn-out tee.
“It’s too hot,” he explained.
I gave a faint, “Mm,” in response.
He lay down, and perhaps it really was too hot for him. He only pulled the covers up to his navel. One arm was bent behind his head, displaying a broad chest with muscle contours so defined it was hard to look away.
He looked better than any of the heroes in my romance comics.
He fell asleep quickly.
I thoughtfully turned the AC down a few degrees.
After reading for a little while longer, I turned off the light and went to sleep.
In the suffocating darkness, James’s eyes slowly opened. He turned to look at me, his expression a complicated mess.
I was fast asleep, breathing softly, my eyes shut tight.
There was no groping. No mind-melting climax.
Only James, lying awake, staring into the darkness until dawn.
The next morning, I stumbled out of the bedroom, still half-asleep.
The delicious aroma of breakfast being cooked by our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, wafted from the kitchen, instantly waking my appetite. I obediently took a seat at the table.
Today, it was thin sweet potato crepes and a freshly made smoothie.
Mrs. Gable beamed at me. “How is it, dear?”
My mouth was too full to answer, so I just nodded enthusiastically.
“Don’t choke, now,” she chuckled, placing the smoothie in front of me. “My own sons won’t even touch my cooking anymore.” She sighed, a familiar lament whenever she spoke of her children.
“They don’t know what they’re missing,” I mumbled through a mouthful of crepe.
Mrs. Gable was genuinely fond of me. Though I appeared cold on the surface, my eyes would light up like a firework display whenever I tasted something delicious. It gave her a real sense of accomplishment.
“By the way, where’s James? He’s not usually up this late.”
“He took a sleeping pill last night.”
A sleeping pill?
Mrs. Gable thought back to her morning cleaning routine. The bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet had looked untouched.
The lid on the instant coffee, however, hadn’t been screwed on tight.
3
I hadn’t expected James to sleep all the way until the afternoon.
Even after all that rest, he still had dark circles under his eyes.
His sleep quality must be terrible. Good thing I kept my hands to myself last night, or he’d be even worse off. I should probably behave myself from now on.
James, who had his back to me, suddenly spun around. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I slept great.”
“?”
And what does that have to do with me?
He turned away again, ignoring me.
Men. So moody. Annoying.
The bedroom door slammed shut with a sharp crack.
That evening, the high school group chat lit up. The class president was organizing a reunion.
My best friend, Marcia, called me. “Lynn! You’re going, right?”
“Yeah, I’m free.”
Marcia and I met in high school and, by a stroke of luck, ended up at the same university. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
“What about your husband? Is he coming?”
Her voice was loud enough to carry. I glanced up at James, who was sitting across from me.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Don’t you dare say yes. The last thing I want is to bring him.
James closed his mouth.
He gave a slight shake of his head.
Satisfied, I told Marcia, “He’s not coming.”
Marcia sounded relieved on the other end. “Oh, good. Because Jason will be there. You know, your old high school flame? Remember him? He’s been single ever since you two broke up. I heard he still wears that beaded bracelet you gave him.”
Her voice was crystal clear.
“…I see.” I replied, my own voice suddenly feeling dry.
“Okay, well, great! Next Tuesday, 7 PM. Don’t be late!”
The call ended.
Seeing how calm and composed James looked, the flicker of unease in my heart vanished.
What am I worried about? He wouldn’t care if I actually cheated on him, let alone over something so small…
“No!”
James’s expression turned icy in an instant.
I jumped, startled, and stared at him, bewildered.
What is his problem?!
His eyes met mine, and his brow twitched. The tension in his face relaxed. “I meant… I don’t think Mrs. Gable’s cooking is any good.”
Mrs. Gable, who had rushed in with a spatula in hand, stood frozen. “?”
4
Before I left on Tuesday, James spent an eternity in front of the mirror.
From head to toe, every detail was perfect.
He was already handsome, with a body like a clothing mannequin. All this primping just made him even more eye-catching.
Marcia always says a man who dolls himself up like that is probably looking for a mistress.
James’s hand, poised to spray his hair, froze mid-air.
He sheepishly put the can of hairspray down.
Turning, his gaze landed softly on my shoulders. “It’ll be cold tonight. You should take a shawl.”
“It’s going to be eighty-five degrees.”
“…Drive safe.”
When I arrived at the reunion, the private room was already packed.
Marcia waved me over.
I sat down next to her. She nudged me, whispering, “Look at his hand.”
Jason had shed some of his boyishness, replaced by a confident ease as he chatted with others. He held a glass in his right hand, and as his sleeve slid back, it revealed a faded, old beaded bracelet.
A cheap trinket I’d bought him from a street vendor across from our high school.
In high school, James was in the class next to mine. We weren’t close, our bond barely held together by the thread of having grown up together. We hardly spoke at school. But his mom was always asking him to bring me things, and he’d wait for me by my classroom door every day after school. Over time, everyone just assumed we were a thing.
Then they started to misunderstand what kind of “thing” we were.
I tried to explain a few times, but no one listened, so I gave up.
Then, one day, the rumors just stopped.
Because of Jason.
He took every opportunity to set the record straight for me, more fervently than I ever had. Under his relentless campaign, our classmates grew bored of the gossip and finally left us alone.
To thank him, I treated him to a milkshake at the shop across the street after school.
It was the first time I hadn’t walked home with James.
When I told him, James didn’t say much. He just nodded once and left.
Jason was James’s complete opposite. He was warm and bright, his heart always on his sleeve. If he was happy, you knew it. If he was upset, you knew that too.
On his eighteenth birthday, he confessed his feelings for me.
I didn’t really understand what it meant to like someone or not. But on the thirty-fifth time he asked me to be his girlfriend, I finally agreed.
He pestered me relentlessly, begging me to say I liked him.
Worn down, I finally gave in. “Fine. I like you.”
As the words left my mouth, I saw him.
James.
He was standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, his handsome features cast in shadow. The setting sun made his dark hair look soft and fluffy, rimmed with a golden halo.
His expression was distant, impossible to read.
I felt a pang of embarrassment.
Jason, one hand in his pocket, the other holding my backpack—which still had the little rabbit keychain James had given me—smiled with a wild, triumphant grin. “Hey, James. Lynn and I are together now. I’ll be walking her home from now on. Thanks for all your help before. I’ll buy you dinner sometime.”
James stared at Jason, his lips pressed into a thin, straight line.
Even someone as dense as me could feel the tension crackling in the air.
I walked over and tugged on Jason’s arm, turning to James. “James, I’ll be home late. Can you let my parents know?”
“…Sure.”
After that day, I never walked home with James again.
5
Everyone in our class knew about my history with Jason.
But they also knew I was married, and they tactfully avoided bringing up the past.
One classmate, who wasn’t in on the gossip, noticed the bracelet on Jason’s wrist. “Man, Jay, you’re doing so well for yourself. Why are you still wearing a cheap thing like that?”
The room fell silent for a beat.
All eyes flickered between me and Jason.
“It was a gift from someone important,” Jason said, his voice smooth. “It’s priceless.”
The classmate nodded, understanding. “Ah, well, then you gotta treasure it.”
Jason rubbed the red bead on the bracelet, his gaze drifting over to me, a little too casually.
Halfway through the night, I slipped out to use the restroom.
When I came out, Jason was there, waiting.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, the top button of his shirt undone. “Long time no see.”
I glanced at the sinks. “This isn’t the best place to catch up.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else.”
“We’re not exactly on ‘catching up’ terms.”
Jason didn’t seem surprised by my response. “Lynn, you haven’t changed a bit. Just as calm and direct as when you broke up with me. You’re just like him, your precious childhood friend.”
My relationship with Jason ended the summer after our senior year. There was no dramatic reason. He was going to study abroad, a decision made by his family.
When I suggested we break up, he was incredulous. “I’m not going to be gone forever. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done with school. Why do we have to break up?”
“The future is too unpredictable. I don’t like it.”
His brow furrowed, a hint of resentment in his voice. “We have something great. We should be able to face the future’s uncertainties together. Lynn, why won’t you sacrifice a little for me?”
I calmly retorted, “Why shouldn’t you be the one to sacrifice for me?”
He was speechless.
We both chose our own paths. We went our separate ways and never saw each other again.
“You married James, didn’t you?” Jason asked, following me down the hall.
I nodded.
“Why? You didn’t even like him in high school. You thanked me for clearing up those rumors about you two.”
“I don’t dislike him.”
Jason seemed unwilling to let it go, his eyes boring into me. “But a quiet, withdrawn guy like James is all wrong for you. He’s cold, and you’re cold. How does that even work for a married couple?”
My footsteps faltered.
It was James.
He stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, clean forearms.
His gaze lingered on Jason for a moment, his eyes darkening.
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The front door of my house is a portal through time.
One moment, I open it and see my husband as he was seven years ago, newly married and full of reckless passion. The next, he’s the man he is today: mature, composed, a master of his craft.
I found myself with both a hot-headed boy-toy and a sophisticated, worldly Daddy. And when you stumble upon something this good, you keep it to yourself.
I thought I had my secret perfectly under wraps, until I overheard my husband, Liam, talking to his secretary.
“Why haven’t you found him yet? The other man.”
“Does she hide him so well because she loves him more?”
“Is it because he’s younger?”
“Find him,” Liam’s voice commanded, strained with a desperate edge. “I don’t care what it costs, find that bastard.”
The secretary had almost reached the door when Liam called him back. His voice was a raw mix of despair and surrender.
“And don’t let my wife know.”
1
I stumbled home after a business trip, so exhausted I collapsed onto the sofa the moment I walked through the door.
When I woke up, the sky was dark. Liam was curled around me, his arm draped protectively over my waist. I studied his face in the dim light. I didn’t know when it had started, but Liam had become busier, more serious, more… distant. We rarely did silly things like fall asleep together on the sofa anymore.
The idea that love deepens with time? Maybe that was always a lie.
A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You’re awake. Let’s get some dinner.”
I tilted my head back and met his gaze. His eyes were burning with an intensity that was almost… unfamiliar. My hand instinctively went to his hair, smoothing it down. He leaned into my touch like a contented puppy.
But wait. I’d only been gone for a week. How could his hair have grown this long?
Before I could puzzle it out, his lips were on mine, kissing me with a raw hunger that felt like he wanted to devour me whole. When I finally managed to gasp for breath, I pushed him away and sat up.
That’s when I saw it. The room.
This was our first apartment. The one we lived in seven years ago. The painting by the door was one we’d hung right after our wedding, and it had only stayed up for a few months. The appliances, the furniture—it was all from that time.
I lifted Liam’s shirt. The skin on his right side was smooth, unblemished. The jagged scar he’d gotten saving me from that car accident wasn’t there.
I had actually traveled back in time.
I turned back to him, and he was already taking off his pants.
My first instinct was to run.
Liam grabbed my ankle, pulling me back into his arms. “Liam, wait. I need to ask you something.”
“Nope,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “You were just touching me, teasing me. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“I just lifted your shirt! How is that teasing?”
His mouth was closing in again. I pressed my hand against his lips, my voice firm. “No, you have to answer. How many days have we been married?”
A look of delighted surprise lit up his eyes. “Ninety-nine. Is there a reward?”
I met his hopeful gaze and swallowed the words I was about to say. “I guess you could say that.”
…
The next morning, I woke up staring at the ceiling, my body aching in places I’d forgotten could ache. Now I understood the true meaning of “youthful vigor.”
It took another nap before I could finally drag myself out of bed. I wandered through the apartment, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. So many of these things were gone in seven years.
I wasn’t in a hurry to go back. I was here now. Might as well enjoy it.
The twenty-three-year-old Liam was so much easier to handle than his thirty-year-old counterpart. I could get him to agree to almost anything with a little sweet talk and a pout. The older Liam was a fortress of logic and suspicion, his mind a complex honeycomb of defenses.
Youth was so much better. Full of energy, and so delightfully gullible.
With a young, sweet husband to dote on me, who needed the old man at home?
2
I came home laden with shopping bags, a spring in my step. A young, pliable husband was the perfect subject for a few… experiments.
I opened the door and saw him sitting on the sofa.
My heart sank. It was the thirty-year-old Liam.
The smile froze on my face. “What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
Liam’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here’?”
I panicked and slammed the door shut. Wrong way to open it. I closed my eyes, picturing the younger Liam. I opened the door again.
Still the older one.
I tried again. And again. After several failed attempts, I gave up. Liam was already at the door.
He pulled me inside, pinning me against the wall. “Explain yourself. What did you mean by that?”
I looked down, playing dumb. “Nothing. You misheard me. I meant, ‘what are you doing home so early’.”
He didn’t look convinced. I stood on my toes and peppered his face with kisses. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat~”
Liam gave me a long, searching look, but decided to let it go. For now. He reached for the bags in my hands.
My body moved faster than my brain. I clutched the bags and took a step back. The contents were for the younger Liam. If the older one saw them, I was done for.
“I can get it. Just move.”
He stood his ground, his eyes fixed on me. My heart hammered against my ribs. Just when I thought I was going to have a heart attack, he stepped aside. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
When I came out of the shower, Liam was on the balcony, reading through some documents. I toweled my hair as I approached. “Why aren’t you working in the study?”
He put the documents down, and I saw that his bathrobe was hanging open. A step closer and I could smell that unique, crisp scent of his. He must have showered in the guest bathroom while I was in the master.
If the younger Liam was overtly seductive, the older one was a master of subtle temptation. He wanted to conquer not just your body, but your mind as well.
And while I was a sucker for it, I was determined not to be so easily swayed this time.
Seeing my lack of reaction, Liam slowly took off his gold-rimmed glasses. The simple gesture sent a jolt of electricity through me. He took my wrist and pulled me into his lap.
I wasn’t as good at pretending as he was. I couldn’t resist. I grabbed his head and kissed him, a desperate, hungry kiss. He just wrapped his arms around my waist, letting me do as I pleased.
When I finally pulled away, breathless, I could have sworn I heard him sigh in relief.
He shifted me in his lap so I was facing him directly. I looked at him, confused. He smiled, and from behind his back, he produced two shopping bags.
The ones I had brought home.
I swallowed hard. “What are you doing with those?”
His hand tightened on my waist. There was no escape.
He ignored my question and started pulling things out of the bag. He held up a small, lacy piece of fabric. “What’s this? Is it for me?”
“If you li—” I caught myself and shook my head violently, grabbing his hand. “That’s not for you.”
Are you kidding me? The thirty-year-old Liam in that? I wasn’t suicidal.
His face fell. He ground his teeth, forcing out the words. “If it’s not for me, then who is it for?”
3
A chill ran down my spine. “It’s for me. It’s a matching set. The salesclerk must have given me the wrong one.”
The lie hung in the air. Liam’s face was still a mask of cold fury. He scrutinized me, his eyes sharp and piercing. In a different context, that look would have been incredibly hot. A real daddy vibe.
I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him. “That’s the look. It’s so hot. I’ve got inspiration. I have to go draw.”
The mention of work made him instinctively loosen his grip. But then he caught my waist again. “Tomorrow night, I want to see this ‘mistake’.”
I mumbled an agreement and ran to the study. Inspiration was fleeting.
Seven hours later, I finally looked up from my drawing. It was a masterpiece, if I did say so myself. I tweaked a few details, pulling an all-nighter without even realizing it. I don’t remember how I got to bed, but when I woke up, it was already afternoon.
Liam would be home in three hours. I threw on some clothes and rushed out, finally finding a store that sold a similar women’s version of the lingerie.
I got home just before he did. The moment I opened the door, he pulled me into his arms. “Honey, you’re finally back.”
The word “honey” told me everything. It was the twenty-three-year-old Liam. I almost cried with relief. Evasion was cowardly, but it was also effective.
I hugged him tightly. “Oh, Liam, you’re so much better.”
He stiffened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but I was too relieved to notice. He shifted, and his foot knocked over one of the shopping bags. The contents spilled out.
Liam quickly picked it up. He stared at the flimsy piece of fabric, stunned. “Honey, why did you buy this?” A slow smile spread across his face. “Is this my hundred-day anniversary present?”
“Yes,” I lied, my heart weeping silently. This was supposed to be my present.
I looked at his beautiful, youthful face. The gambler in me took over. I pulled away from him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Will you… be back tonight?”
“I’ll try,” I said distractedly, my mind already mapping out the quickest route to another store.
Behind me, the color drained from Liam’s face. He pulled out his phone. The anniversary counter on his wallpaper had already ticked over to 101 days.
I had forgotten I was in the past. It took me hours to find something suitable. When I finally got back, I took a deep breath before opening the door. But it swung open before I could touch it.
Liam was there, looking like a wounded puppy. He bent down, burying his face in my shoulder. I sighed in relief. It was the younger Liam.
He didn’t say anything, just held me tighter.
“What’s wrong? Did I make you wait too long? It’s because…”
He cut me off with a kiss. “I don’t want to hear it…”
4
Before Liam went into the bathroom, I handed him the paper bag. “Baby, can you wear this for me?”
He peeked inside and agreed without hesitation. “Of course. Anything for you.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as I pushed him into the bathroom. Young guys were so easy.
When he came out, he was a little shy, fidgeting awkwardly. God, I loved it. I circled him, admiring the view.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed.
I sometimes drew risqué original characters for my online portfolio. There was always one comment that got a lot of likes: “Hey, draw something dirtier.”
I had. More than one. I couldn’t post them, but I could admire them in private. And I had clearly, subconsciously, used Liam as my model. His body was more perfect than any 2D character.
After admiring him from every angle, I realized his expression was blank. He seemed to have zoned out. He must have misunderstood.
“I mean, you look just like my drawing.”
The light returned to his eyes. “Just a drawing? Can I see it?”
I refused instantly. There was no way I was showing him those. I barely dared to look at them myself, and only as a reward after a long day of work.
“I drew them a long time ago. I deleted them.”
His eyelashes fluttered. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Oh. Okay.”
I stood on my toes and kissed him. “Baby, shouldn’t we be getting down to business?”
He seemed rooted to the spot. “Am I… not mature enough sometimes?”
He must have had a bad day at work.
I shook my head. “Don’t think like that. Being young has its advantages.”
“You might not have the money, the experience, or the social skills yet, but you have youth. And trust me, you’ll grow into all of that. You’ll be amazing. And hey,” I whispered, “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Your company is going to go public in five years.”
He didn’t look comforted. “And you? Do you prefer the mature type?”
My hands wandered to the lace trim on his new outfit. “Not at all. I like you just the way you are. When you’re all mature and serious, you won’t play these little games with me anymore.”
A look of understanding dawned on his face. He pressed his forehead against mine. “Okay. I get it. Whatever you want me to be, I can be.”
…
For a week, I avoided the front door, terrified of being thrown back into the future. On the eighth day, I couldn’t resist ordering a small cake.
The moment I opened the door to get the delivery, I was back. Seven years in the future.
5
I ran to the mirror. Thankfully, no marks. Still, a strange sense of guilt washed over me.
It was almost time for Liam to get home from work. I changed my clothes and decided to go pick him up. The top floor of his office building was silent, everyone hunched over their desks, trying to be invisible. I walked all the way to his office without anyone noticing me.
“Why haven’t you found him yet? The other man.”
It was Liam’s voice. My hand froze on the doorknob. I ducked into a nearby alcove and listened.
“He’s probably younger than me. My wife has a thing for good-looking men. We can rule out anyone ugly.”
His secretary’s voice trembled. “Sir, these are all the people your wife has been in contact with recently. The man you’re describing isn’t on the list. Are you sure you’re not just… under a lot of pressure lately?”
Liam’s voice was tight with suppressed rage. “Impossible. I know her. Her eyes used to only be on me. Now, there’s someone else in them.”
“Do you think she hides him so well because he’s younger? Am I old?” His voice cracked. “That’s right. I’m thirty. I can’t turn back time.”
The secretary, though timid, had a sharp tongue. “Sir, have you seen a doctor? These symptoms sound like… early-onset menopause.”
A loud thud. Liam had thrown something. “He exists. Find him. I don’t care what it costs.”
The secretary turned to leave, but Liam called him back. He closed his eyes, his voice a mix of despair and surrender. “Don’t let my wife know.”
I saw the secretary coming and quickly moved to the door, pretending I had just arrived. He looked surprised to see me, then followed me to open the door, knocking first. “Sir, your wife is here.” He smiled at me and left.
Inside, Liam was back to his usual dapper self. If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I would have thought I’d imagined the whole thing.
He stood up. “I came to pick you up,” I explained.
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “A sudden burst of concern, born from guilt.”
He was too far away for me to read his lips. “What did you say?”
He quickly composed himself. “Nothing. I still have work to do. You can wait in the lounge.”
I didn’t argue. I needed a moment to process everything.
Lying on the lounge sofa, my mind was a mess. Liam thought I was cheating on him. After all these years, he was the only man I had ever loved. If it weren’t for him, I probably would have never gotten married.
He had crashed into my life when I was at my lowest point. I was lying on the ground after a car accident, and he appeared, a silhouette against the blinding light.
The first thing he said to me was: “I’m in the middle of starting a business, and I’m millions in debt to the bank. If you try to blackmail me, I’ll take you down with me.”
Maybe it was the concussion, but I thought I saw stars around him. The image was burned into my memory. As soon as I recovered, I painted the picture that launched my career. From then on, it was like a switch had been flipped. My career took off.
You don’t betray your muse. I could never betray him.
Of course, falling for the twenty-three-year-old version of him didn’t count. That was just human nature.
I replayed some of our recent conversations in my head. I must have said something careless that made him suspicious. I decided to apologize to him tonight.
But would he believe me if I told him I had been traveling back in time?
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