Category: English

The notification dinged, and I saw the client name pop up on my Amazon app. Brandon Cole. My husband. The address was one of those exclusive, glass-and-steel complexes: The Presidio Residences. I called him. It rang far too long before he answered. “Where are you?” “At the office, babe… why?” His voice was thin and shaky, and I could hear a distinct, hollow echo in the background. “No reason. Just checking in.” As soon as I hung up, Brandon updated his social media: [Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a mid-day spousal check-in. Blessed.] Attached was a blurry selfie of him at a desk, looking smug. I casually tapped “Like,” then followed the GPS to his location. I rode my e-bike through the complex gates, pulling up to the exact building. A small boy was standing by the door, impatiently kicking the ground. “Hurry up, delivery person. You’re taking me to soccer practice.” His tone was demanding. I stared at his face—eyes, chin, and brow, a mirror image of Brandon’s—and forced a pleasant smile. “Hey there, buddy. For a scheduled drop-off, I just need to confirm with a parent in person.” “Where is your mom or dad?” 1 “Ugh, this is so annoying!” The boy, Chase, rolled his eyes at me, a theatrical gesture Brandon himself had mastered, and stormed back inside. A woman in silk loungewear, the LV logo subtle on the lapel, appeared in the doorway. I squinted at her face, and a sudden, cold jolt hit me. It was Tinsley Bell. She was a realtor I’d met years ago when Brandon had been obsessed with “just looking” at this very building. We couldn’t afford it, but he insisted on the tour. When Tinsley, the agent, tried to add Brandon on social media afterward, he pushed her contact onto my phone, claiming, “Gotta let my wife handle the logistics.” Tinsley Bell was still languishing in my friend list. Her posts had evolved from listings to a relentless feed of luxury travel and designer bags. She’d clearly married into money. “I’m the mother. You can take him now.” Tinsley’s hand rested on the doorframe, flashing a heavy, layered golden manicure that I knew started at ten thousand dollars—I’d picked up supplies for that salon before. Everything about this place, from the trim to the fabric, screamed old money. Brandon, meanwhile, was a $4,000-a-month accountant. My gaze locked onto a quilted down jacket hanging on a hook by the entrance. It was the exact model I’d bought Brandon last winter. Even the small cigarette burn on the cuff—the one I’d patched myself—was in the same place. I took a slow, deep breath, tasting the dry air of the hallway. “What is your relationship with Brandon Cole?” Tinsley looked at me, a flicker of suspicion in her expensive eyes. “Brandon Cole is my husband. Does your delivery service run background checks now?” A suffocating wave of nausea hit my chest. I fought to keep the smile plastered on my face. “You misunderstand, ma’am. New platform rule for child transport: both guardians must confirm the drop-off.” “That’s ridiculous. There was no rule like that before. You know what? I’ll just cancel the ride.” Tinsley pulled up the app, ready to hit cancel. Chase wrapped his arms around her legs, whining dramatically. “Chase needs to go to practice! I want to play with Summer!” Tinsley sighed, clearly exasperated, and called into the back of the apartment, “Honey! Can you come here? The delivery guy is being difficult!” She walked further in to find him. I could barely make out the wedding portrait hanging far down the hall. I knelt beside Chase. “How old are you, sweetie?” “Five. Ugh—” Chase recoiled, clamping a hand over his nose and quickly pulling a surgical mask out of his Spider-Man backpack. “You smell gross. No wonder Daddy always complains about how much delivery people stink.” I felt the last thread of my composure snap. “What the hell is the hold-up? This is insane just to drop off a kid.” “Who the hell took this order?” Brandon, dressed in matching silk loungewear, stomped out of the bedroom, cursing under his breath. When he saw me, the rage drained from his face. His expression froze into a mask of pure terror. 2 “Laney… what are you doing here?” “I’m here to take your son to soccer practice, obviously.” I hooked an arm around Chase and moved toward the door. Brandon lunged forward, grabbing Chase back. He ignored the boy’s immediate tantrum, canceling the lesson with a quick text. Tinsley grabbed my arm, her manicured nails digging into my skin. “Wait a minute. I knew you looked familiar. You’re Brandon’s ex-wife.” “We divorced years ago. Are you really going to make a scene? Do you have no shame?” Brandon pulled Tinsley closer, his voice saccharine. “I’ll handle this, baby. Don’t stress yourself out; it’s bad for the pregnancy.” He dragged me just outside the apartment, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t look at me for a long time. Finally, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and mumbled, “Look, I messed up.” “When did we divorce, Brandon? You want to start there? What is your explanation?” I demanded. Brandon quickly put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Tinsley’s just pregnant with number two, Laney. We can’t upset her. You didn’t give her any trouble, did you?” I didn’t answer. I just stared, letting the silence hang heavy between us. He sighed, the theatrical weariness I knew so well. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. The kind of mistake every man makes at least once.” He confessed to the affair. On our first wedding anniversary, while I thought he was working late, he had been here, in this building, with Tinsley. She was pregnant right away. “Tinsley is different from you, Laney. She’s pure. I had to give her a home.” “And this apartment? I’m just renting it. I wanted a peaceful, high-end environment for her while she was expecting.” Listening to his soft, self-pitying confession, I felt only a chilling, intense mockery. The first year we were married, I was in a terrible car accident on my way to work. Brandon had saved my life, literally giving me his blood. He’d told me I was his life. The accident left me unable to have children. He swore he loved me more because of it. But he had been cheating on me back when he claimed to love me most. When he failed at a startup and racked up debt, when his mother, Veronica, got her cancer diagnosis, I worked every grueling Amazon gig I could find to keep us afloat. I’d worked until I was coughing up blood, only for him to spend that money supporting this second life. Brandon reached for my hand. “Even with Tinsley, I still love you, Laney. I do.” “After the baby is born, I’ll figure out a way for all of you to just… get along.” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and snatched my hand away. “Brandon Cole, we’re done. I want a divorce.” He shrugged, completely dismissive. “It’s just cheating, Laney. Do you have to be so dramatic?” He genuinely seemed to think I was just threatening him. But this time, I had no interest in continuing the performance. “Daddy! Mommy’s belly hurts!” Chase ran out, clutching Tinsley’s arm. Brandon’s expression darkened. He shot me a venomous look and scrambled back inside to his pregnant mistress. Before he disappeared, my phone buzzed with a text from him. [Glad Tinsley is okay. As the older sister in this situation, you need to stop doing things that disrupt our family harmony.] [Go think about what you did. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the D-word.] I wanted to vomit. I deleted the message without a second thought. I called the Amazon dispatcher, taking the next day off. It was time to prepare for the divorce. Back at our tired, old apartment, I pulled out a dusty cardboard box. It was filled with cheap trinkets: the handwritten notes, the folded paper “promise stars.” He’d never given me another gift, and I’d always excused him, believing he was struggling. Now I knew the truth: he wasn’t struggling. He just thought I was a fool. I dumped the entire box into the trash bin. While packing up his few belongings, I found a real estate deed tucked into an old suit jacket. The owner’s name was clearly written: Brandon Cole. I smiled. The money trail was suddenly very clear. I quietly slipped the deed into my pocket. Then, I tossed all of Brandon’s other things out the front door. As for Veronica, his mother, I didn’t want a scene with a cancer patient, so I called her to come get her own items. I was met with a screaming torrent of abuse. 3 “Laney Shaw, you barren animal! You can’t have children, so you’re trying to harm Tinsley? Are you a monster?” “You want a divorce? Not until you sign over the apartment to Brandon! Never!” It turned out Veronica had known about Tinsley the entire time. They had been working together to bleed me dry. I didn’t bother arguing. I just hung up. The apartment was mine; I had paid the mortgage and just made the final payment this month. Brandon hadn’t contributed a dime, and he was an adulterer. He had no claim. I changed the locks to a new fingerprint system and installed a security camera. Neither of them would ever step foot in my home again. I mailed Brandon the divorce papers. Before I went to sleep, Tinsley sent me a video call request. I answered. The camera was pointed directly at Brandon’s face. He was working hard, his body straining above Tinsley. “Honey, who do you love more? Me or Laney Shaw?” Tinsley asked in a simpering voice, holding the phone up. “You, of course! Laney is a slug! Stale and dry, like sleeping with a dead fish!” The sounds of their cheap, crude lovemaking continued until it was over. Tinsley followed up with a slew of taunting texts. [Your anniversary? He was in my bed. Your birthday? Still in my bed.] [He even sabotaged your e-bike motor to make me laugh. He was watching you struggle in the rain via a drone feed.] [While you were pushing your bike to the repair shop, he and I were having car sex in his Mercedes-Benz.] … [Laney, you are pathetic.] The dense stream of words crashed against me like a wave. But my heart, already like cold ash, did not stir. Satisfied, I stopped the screen recording. I had all the evidence I needed for the coming fight. The next day, I picked up my usual route. My first order was documents. The second, a bouquet of flowers. When I handed the flowers to the customer, he recoiled, giving them a suspicious sniff. His expression turned grim. “Do I have a problem with you?” he asked coldly. I shook my head, confused. Before I could speak, he threw the bouquet directly at my face. “You don’t, but some bastard certainly does! Did you seriously piss all over my order?” The foul, acrid smell of urine, mixed with shredded petals, clung to my skin and clothes. I apologized profusely, promising to call the police and offering a ten-fold cash refund. Only then did the man let it go. “Ha ha ha! The stinky delivery girl got what she deserved!” I turned and saw Chase, doubled over laughing. Veronica, Brandon’s mother, patted the boy’s head approvingly. “Chase, that was brilliant! A little payback for Mommy and Daddy!” I flew into a rage. I charged at them and shoved Chase hard. He tried to swing at me, but I kicked his legs out from under him. He hit the ground and started screaming. Veronica leaped forward, putting herself between me and the boy, ready to fight. “Laney Shaw! Have you no shame, fighting a child?” I grabbed her wrist and called the police. “No one is going anywhere until the officers arrive.” Veronica struggled but couldn’t break my grip. She scoffed. “The police? Chase is a minor. They won’t do a thing to a little boy.” Then she leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Let me tell you something else, you fool. I don’t have cancer. I faked the whole thing.” She threw her head back and laughed into the wind. I reached into my pocket, touching the wrinkled diagnosis report I’d kept. Veronica hadn’t had cancer when she first claimed it. But her checkup last month confirmed it—late-stage, terminal. I didn’t need to tell her. The police arrived quickly. Brandon, winded, showed up moments later. 4 Veronica, as the present guardian, was held responsible. Brandon grudgingly paid for the damage. After the officers left and his mother and son were gone, Brandon glowered at me. “It was just a harmless prank, Laney. Did you really have to call the police?” “You’re getting completely out of line.” “Besides, it’s just kid pee. It’s cleaner than water. Why are you making a fuss?” I picked up the remaining half of the ruined bouquet and thrust it toward his mouth. “Not dirty, you say? Then drink it.” Brandon recoiled instantly, clearing his throat. “Wife, I love you very much. I won’t sign the divorce papers.” “I honestly think the three of us could live under the same roof. Maybe even share the same bed.” He casually slid his hand onto my lower back. “And listen, Tinsley is indisposed for a few days. Could you register your fingerprint on the lock at the Presidio for me? You could help me out.” His sheer audacity made me physically ill. When he leaned in for a kiss, I slapped him across the face, hard. Brandon stared at me, dumbfounded. “You… you just hit me?” In his memory, I was still the obedient wife, the one who took his abuse like a whipped dog. My voice was ice. “You have three days to sign the agreement. If not, I’m filing a lawsuit for divorce.” My unexpected resolve stunned him into instant fury. “Laney Shaw, don’t be ridiculous! You’re a trashy delivery girl! Who the hell else would have you?” “You want a divorce? Fine! Give me the house! You haven’t even finished paying off the mortgage you promised to cover, and I have a wife and a child to support now. You owe me!” His shameless greed only fueled my disgust. I kept my emotions in check, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Zero assets, zero support, and marital infidelity. According to the agreement, you’ll be leaving with nothing.” “Also, Brandon? I know you bought the house at The Presidio.” His pupils dilated in shock. He quickly tried to deny it. “What are you talking about? Who bought a house… What the hell are you implying?” “Are you threatening me, Laney Shaw?” He stared at me, eyes burning with a desperate, sudden fear. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Then, realizing something, his face went ashen. He bolted toward his Mercedes-Benz and frantically made a call. By the time he came back out, I was already gone on my e-bike. That night, my phone was bombarded with texts from Brandon. [Laney Shaw, return what you stole from me immediately!] [Sign the deed for the old apartment over to my name, and wire me $10,000 for living expenses!] [I might let this slide if you do it!] [Don’t make me get nasty!] 5 Dozens of calls followed. I could picture him on the other end of the screen, panicked and enraged, his biggest secret now in my hand. I touched the crisp, crimson-colored real estate deed tucked safely away. The mansion that was once an impossible dream for us was now his. Not only had he bought it, but he had bought the realtor too. A ten million dollar condo was not something a $4,000-a-month accountant could buy. There was only one possible conclusion: the money was dirty. [Still playing dead?] [I swear, I will make sure you can’t even deliver a package! I will ruin your life!] [I have ways to make you surrender!] I smiled at the stream of threats. I packaged the deed and all the other evidence. Then, I set a timed email to send to Brandon’s company’s compliance department. Let’s see what “ways” he had. Three days passed. Brandon had not signed the divorce papers. I called my lawyer and prepared the lawsuit. Later, I headed to the Annual Rider Awards Gala. As the reigning “Top Runner,” I was about to receive my award. Suddenly, Brandon and Tinsley stormed the venue, unfurling a huge, hand-painted banner. “I’m reporting this fraud! My wife, Laney Shaw, is using the Amazon platform as a cover for sex work!” “She infected me, and she’s maliciously spreading a virus while she knows she has a dirty disease!” “The company needs to investigate! Everyone needs to be warned!” Brandon waved a printed copy of my old medical report. Tinsley started a loop of security footage showing me frequently entering and exiting a run-down, low-income apartment block. The other runners started buzzing. “Laney doesn’t look like that kind of person… I can’t believe it.” “You might have eaten takeout delivered by her.” “So that’s the secret to thirty thousand a month! She’s not the Top Runner; she’s the Hooker Queen!” The most vicious attack came from Cody Evans, a young rider I had personally mentored. I’d helped him clear his debts and earn a steady income. Now, he leaped onto a banquet table, his eyes full of pure hatred. Brandon leaned in, his voice low and menacing. “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laney.” “Return the property and agree to a net-zero divorce, and I’ll clear your name. Otherwise, I have physical evidence and witnesses.” I met his triumphant gaze, and a chilling smile touched my lips.

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After breaking up with my ex-boyfriend, Julian Cross, we kept sleeping together because our physical chemistry was off the charts. After one intimate session, he threw half a box of ultra-thin condoms at me: “I’m getting married, trying for a baby, won’t need these anymore.” “I found you a blind date, go see him.” “Don’t always cling to me, find a man to take over.” I picked up my clothes, dressed silently, and left. I didn’t go to the blind date. After all, my white moonlight (first love) was back in town. He had no idea I found someone to “take over” behind his back. 1 After a hearty session of intimacy. I calmed my breathing, picked up my change of clothes, and walked into the bathroom. Julian used to clean me up afterwards when we were together. When I came out drying my hair, he was leaning against the headboard. He picked up the half-used box of strawberry-flavored ultra-thin condoms and casually threw them into my arms. When we were dating, he casually mentioned he liked strawberry flavor. Since then, I prepared them every time. I caught the box, slightly stunned. “I’m getting married for business, trying for a baby, won’t need these anymore.” He explained casually. Biting an unlit cigarette, the spark flickered in the dim light. Even after buckling his belt, he exuded a careless sexiness. Seeing me staring blankly. He smiled loosely. His voice still husky from indulgence: “I found you a blind date, go see him.” He blew a smoke ring at me. I couldn’t help coughing. He laughed frivolously: “Choking? You little girls are so delicate.” “My wife can’t stand the smell either, so I can only smoke in front of you and the boys.” We’ve known each other for years, but really got close at a gathering last year. He was exactly my type. I heard he changed girlfriends frequently. I privately checked his medical report, confirmed he was clean, then bravely pursued him. Everyone said he was easy, but I chased him for half a year. Even mingled into his circle of bros, acted as a bro for half a year before catching him. But after dating for half a year, he said: “Better to be friends.” We broke up. Just because our bodies were compatible, we maintained a friends-with-benefits relationship for a year. Back then, I frowned and said countless times I hated the smell of smoke. He always passed the smoke to me while kissing, smiling wickedly: “Can’t quit, get used to it. Anyway… you’ll always be with me.” Now he’s willing to change for someone else. He buckled his watch, lips curving carelessly: “Don’t always cling to me, find a man to take over. This half box of ultra-thins, you guys can use.” I pinched the box, throat dry: “You said in bed just now… use it again tonight.” He flicked the ash, “Gotta save energy for tonight, pay the public grain (marital duty) at home. My wife is young, very clingy.” “Don’t know why you little girls have so much energy.” My brain buzzed, stuffed the half box of ultra-thins into my pocket. “Okay.” “I know.” Regret is definitely there. Originally felt our bodies were compatible, wanted to play with him for a while longer. But he has a fiancée. Can only let it go. 2 I’m probably the cleanest break among Julian’s group of female companions. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and handed me a card. “This is compensation, same old rules.” “I asked Sean to send you the blind date’s contact card, don’t forget the appointment.” Sean is his best friend. When I couldn’t reach him usually, I looked for Sean. I quietly accepted the card. He casually put out the cigarette. When he looked up, that usual laziness revealed a warning: “Don’t cause trouble in front of my wife, you know my methods.” Of course I know. The Cross family’s assets are intertwined, and the Cross family members are cold-blooded and ruthless. But I never said I would cause trouble. He likes that girl that much? I lowered my eyes: “Understood.” His expression relaxed, considered satisfied. After packing up, he left first. Half an hour later, I left. This was our tacit agreement. Even during our relationship, it was this process. Back at my place, my phone screen lit up. The contact card pushed by Sean arrived as promised. At the same time, an entertainment news popped up: [The eldest son of the Cross family appears publicly with his fiancée, Cross and Xu families will join forces] I clicked in. In the photo, Julian held the girl’s waist, his gaze following her every smile and frown. His eyes were extraordinarily focused, a gentleness I had never seen. Netizens commented one after another: [What is Young Master Cross staring at his fiancée’s mouth for? This eye contact is full of sexual tension, making the fiancée shy!] [A friend saw them at the banquet, said Young Master Cross didn’t look at his phone the whole time. Fiancée got dessert on her mouth, he wiped it directly with his hand, then licked it off naturally… Who understands, this natural intimacy!] [Did anyone notice the ring on his ring finger? It’s said he designed it himself, with the fiancée’s initials engraved inside. When did he ever wear these before?] [Exactly! Thought he was a scum before, now just think he’s charming. Turns out it’s not a character collapse, it’s just that all previous people couldn’t make the prodigal son turn back!] If netizens hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t even have noticed these details. Once I also asked Julian to wear couple rings with me. He scoffed “Childish, not getting married, what’s the point of wearing these fake things?” I said nothing. After all— These little couple interests were all learned from my ex-ex-boyfriend. I didn’t add the blind date. Even closed the webpage. Silenced the phone, fell asleep. Slept for a whole day. Woke up to see many messages on WeChat. Bestie sent many in shock: [Holy crap! Chloe, your white moonlight is back!] [Check WeChat quickly!!!] [Answer the phone!! He got off the plane!] My heart stopped. I wasn’t afraid maintaining a relationship with Julian for a year. But at this moment. I was really scared. 3 The white moonlight’s name is Ethan Perry, my ex-ex. We were college classmates. He was handsome, and number one in his major. I admire the strong. Not surprisingly. I was moved. And took action. But he was like a precise machine, only data and formulas in his life. I took classes with him when free, sat next to him for a whole month, he still didn’t know me. I could only use a little trick. That day, I threw my pen into his desk hole, gently poked his shoulder: “Classmate, my pen seems to be with you.” He turned his head, stared at me for three seconds, frowned slightly. “Last Tuesday, you also used this reason to ask me to get a pen, and last month on the 26th, 18th, 12th…” Even I didn’t remember. He could count them clearly. I was so happy. Later I added his WeChat, asked him out in various ways every day. Although always rejected, after all, I liked him, always had to beg him. When he agreed to date, it was exactly half a year. Before him, I was straight as an arrow, didn’t know how to chase people at all. Many techniques were figured out when dating him. As for chasing Julian, I had experience. The title “white moonlight” was also given by my bestie to tease me. Because Ethan was always demanding insatiably. Like a machine, knew where my limit was. I couldn’t stand his frequency. Those words of his surfaced in my mind again. “Chloe, don’t hide.” “Chloe, I know your limit is here, hold on for another two minutes and eighteen seconds.” “Broke the record again, Chloe, you are great.” He never stingy with praise, voice calm and approving. Often made me collapse. Later, he was selected by a top research institute abroad. I didn’t want to delay him, nor did I want to wait, so I proposed breaking up. Felt relieved in my heart. Then later, met Julian. He was also handsome. Heard his ex revealed he was the MAC type (make-up brand, implies short duration/for show), ten times with him felt nothing. No feeling? That’s perfect! That kind of thing is tiring. After dating him, I found it was true! I could even fall asleep in the process. He would even ask me “Am I awesome”. Of course awesome! In the two years dating Ethan, I never slept so comfortably! Thoughts retracted, I sped up packing. After all, Ethan didn’t agree to break up back then. Red eyes in front of me for the first time. To stabilize him, let him go abroad quickly. I promised him a fake breakup, promised to wait for him to return. Result as soon as he left. I changed my phone card and moved immediately. And met Julian. 4 I took clothes out of the closet while dialing my bestie. “How did you know he was coming back? I asked around, his project takes at least five years.” I stuffed clothes into the suitcase randomly, “It’s only been three years, why is he back?” Bestie: “I’m wondering too!” “Luckily my boyfriend is in that circle, mentioned it to me.” “But—I heard Ethan is now a tech upstart, momentum is strong…” I zipped up the suitcase, didn’t reply. “What are you doing? Rustling sounds.” “Packing,” I stood the suitcase up, “Hiding out for a few days.” Silence on the other end. “Avoid what? Can he eat you…” She paused. —Seems he really can. “Then you never thought about… getting back together with him?” I shivered in fear: “But I lied to him, and found Julian…” “So what? Who told him to be so fierce and tire you out! Besides, you are single now.” What does she know? Ethan, once he sets his mind on something, calculates all variables. I’ll avoid him first. When he confirms I’ve disappeared, maybe he’ll give up. Carrying the suitcase, I went to open the door— Closed again. A hand crossed over, firmly holding the door panel. Ethan lowered his eyes, looking at my suitcase. Voice smiling: “Chloe, where are you planning to go?” He opened the door, stepping into the room. The entryway suddenly seemed cramped. I stepped back. The door closed behind him. The cashmere coat carried cold air, but not as cold as his face. “Before returning, I calculated your possible reactions.” “Emotion told me, you would wait for me, like before.” “Reason told me, you would run, and would act within 1 hour of confirming my return.” “Looking at it now, reason won.”

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My boyfriend’s sister posted a photo in her friend circle, joining the trend of sharing post-coital selfies. Her caption read: [A veteran of the game, but I’ve never experienced the feeling of my pupils losing focus.] I thought it was hilarious and shared the gossip with my boyfriend, Liam. But Liam stared at the phone, his eyes turning red. That night, Liam left home using overtime as an excuse. A few hours later, his sister updated her post-coital selfie again. [First time experiencing pupil defocus, complete!] The man in this photo had a distinct red mole on his collarbone. Just like my boyfriend, Liam. 1 I used to be the kind of person who would sulk silently, so I called Liam immediately. But after a few rings, the call was disconnected. I tried a few more times, refusing to give up, but each time it was instantly declined. I sent Liam a message on WeChat, demanding he contact me immediately to explain. But the next moment, I refreshed and saw two new updates from his sister, Tara. [So annoying, do some spoiled wives have any self-awareness? Don’t call and disturb people’s dreams!!] [Called over a dozen times, really scared me. Is the spoiled wife going to kneel downstairs at the apartment begging her husband to come home later? (Covering mouth laughing)] These two posts were obviously directed at me. At this point, I didn’t need to seek confirmation from Liam anymore. So I announced the breakup directly in my friend circle. [Called my boyfriend, accidentally woke up his bed partner. I felt really bad, so I had to turn my boyfriend into an ex-boyfriend to help his bed partner cool off.] Then I sent a private message to Liam: [Unilateral breakup, take care of yourself.] Although I sent the breakup text, I still hoped deep down that Liam could give me a reasonable explanation. We’ve known each other for over twenty years, childhood sweethearts. I didn’t want this relationship to end so unclearly. A minute after the message was sent, Liam called me back. “Xia, sorry, the boss was dragging us into a meeting just now, so I could only keep declining your calls.” “Do you know you scared me with that breakup message? Did you misunderstand something?” I didn’t answer, instead, I listened carefully to the background noise on Liam’s end. There was the sound of typing on keyboards, and I could vaguely hear a male voice pumping up subordinates. “Xia, listen if you don’t believe me. Colleagues are all working overtime now. If I call you back, they’ll think I’m slacking off.” Seeing I didn’t reply, Liam immediately held the phone to the side. The sound of typing coming from the phone became clearer, mixed with a few complaints from working drones. Could it be that I really misunderstood? But Tara’s posts were too coincidental. Liam softly pleaded a few more times on the other end, sounding like he was indeed being urged by colleagues with killer looks. After thinking about it, I decided to wait for Liam to come back and clarify things. 2 Early the next morning, Liam returned home looking exhausted. He had faint dark circles under his eyes, as if he really had worked overtime all night. But when he saw me, he still forced himself to cheer up and gave me a smile. He lifted the bag in his hand and said, “Xia, haven’t you always wanted to try the crab roe soup dumplings from that shop? I lined up specially to buy them for you. Hurry and taste them while they’re hot.” The bag contained soup dumplings from that internet-famous shop. It’s said that you have to queue for an hour to buy their buns. My mood eased a bit. Maybe I really was overthinking everything. But after opening the takeout box, I was slightly stunned again. I remembered the shop’s promotional pictures showed eight soup dumplings, but there were only six inside. The buns were no longer hot, and there was even some solidified grease stuck to them. They looked like leftovers. Liam saw my confusion and explained, “The shop might have been too busy and put the wrong number. Also, I rushed back all the way, and the soup from the buns leaked a bit, so they look like this.” “Sorry, I didn’t let my baby Xia eat the best-looking soup dumplings. It’s my fault.” Liam used his cute act again, trying to coax me. But after the events of last night, the radar in my heart kept beeping. I didn’t avoid Liam, directly took out my phone and checked Tara’s updates. Sure enough, fifteen minutes ago, Tara uploaded a few breakfast photos on another platform. [The man who left his love-brained wife to sleep with me, this morning queued for an hour to buy me soup dumplings again. It’s said to be the shop his wife always wanted to eat at but hasn’t yet~] Inside were the hot new product soup dumplings from that shop. Used tissues and two pairs of chopsticks were on the table, and there were exactly six soup dumplings left in the takeout box. For a moment, I didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh bitterly. Liam was willing to queue for an hour for Tara, but wasn’t willing to buy an extra steamer of buns to fool me. I put the phone in front of Liam to see how he would act. Liam’s face looked ugly, then he reached out frantically trying to pull me, but I dodged. “Xia, I know what you’re thinking. You suspect I have something with that kind of woman, but I really haven’t had any contact with her!” “I was really working overtime last night, until early this morning. If you don’t believe me, you should believe my colleagues, right? You’ve met Chris, Mike before, they can testify for me!” Saying that, Liam called Chris. The call was connected quickly. Chris knew what happened and kept vouching for Liam. “Sister-in-law, you have to believe brother Liam. We bunch of colleague brothers all know how much he loves you. How could he cheat?” “We worked overtime all night yesterday. There’s video evidence. If you don’t believe it, I can send you the video.” Liam also looked at me sincerely, eyes wet like a puppy afraid of being abandoned. I received the video sent by Chris. Everything looked normal in the video; they were indeed working overtime. But Liam, who flashed past in the video, was not wearing the clothes he wore last night. I asked Chris: “The date this video was shot is probably not yesterday, right? Are you really going to use your own integrity to cover up this lie for Liam?” Chris still tried to quibble, but was gagged by my sentence: “My mom just prayed to God for me yesterday. The lot said that those who lie to me will be unlucky for a year.” Chris, who came from Fujian (known for superstition), instantly lost his voice. 3 Liam kept explaining to me. And I only focused on one thing—packing all of Liam’s clothes into a suitcase and throwing them out the door. I stood at the door, gesturing for Liam to get out of the apartment with his things. Seeing me so heartless, Liam also started to get angry. “Feng Xia, do you have to be like this? I’ve explained it all. I have nothing to do with that crazy woman, but you won’t listen to my explanation, living in your own fantasy!” “How many times do you want me to say it? I am innocent, I have never betrayed you!” Facing his quibbling, I only said one word. “Scram—” 4 I officially separated from Liam. Friends around me assumed I was single again. Someone even pushed a few high-quality guys’ WeChat contacts to me, telling me to relax well. I wasn’t in a rush to start the next relationship. I’ve known Liam for over twenty years and loved him for ten. The impact of this relationship won’t dissipate in a short while. Moreover, Liam kept harassing me like a lingering ghost, making me have no mood to love someone else. Seeing I was stubborn, Liam carried big and small bags of gifts to visit my parents. He put on a low profile and cried to my parents for a long time. He also said other women wanted to seduce him and were rejected by him, so they framed him. Back and forth, my dad was actually moved by him and persuaded me to reconcile with him. “Dad heard what Xiao Lin said. It was that woman who wanted to seduce him, so she deliberately tried to destroy your relationship. You should trust Xiao Lin more. You are a couple who are about to get married in the future. How can you always be suspicious of your husband like this?” I was too lazy to listen to my dad’s crooked theories about the three obediences and four virtues. I hastily responded with a few sentences and hung up the phone. Then I pulled Liam out of the blacklist, sent him a middle finger emoji, and then dragged him back to the blacklist. Probably thinking that going to the parents was effective, Liam went to my house to drink with my dad for several days in a row. As time went on, even my mom believed his nonsense and persuaded me to give him another chance. I was annoyed and decided to find Liam to talk face to face. I was afraid Liam would pull some candlelight dinner kneeling begging for reconciliation trick, so I didn’t make an appointment in advance, but went directly to Liam’s apartment to wait for him after work. Who knew that not long after arriving, I bumped into a big surprise. Liam walked in front with a cold face. A long-haired woman trotted behind him and hugged him. “Tara, I told you not to come find me again!” Liam looked very angry. He struggled a few times but didn’t break free from Tara’s embrace. Tara buried her face in his back and laughed heartily: “Liam, stop pretending. Who said they wished they could die on me? How come you forgot what you said after just a few days?” Her slender fingers stroked Liam’s face and blew into his ear. “I’m on my safe period today, and I just happen to haven’t eaten dinner. Do you want to take me to your house to sit for a while?” Liam’s face was still ugly, but he didn’t make any struggling moves anymore. Seeing this, Tara walked directly in front of him and kissed him. The two kissed for a long time. They kissed until I finished recording two long videos before stopping their mouths. Liam cursed: “Are you just this desperate for men? Is it that any random man can take you home?” Tara giggled: “No, it has to be a man I fancy.” Liam said fiercely: “Are you a bus?” Tara said: “Isn’t what you love exactly this bus?” The two were entangled for a long time, stunned that they didn’t find me, a big living person standing nearby. Just right, I don’t need to talk to Liam about anything anymore. The material just recorded into the phone is already enough to shut everyone’s mouth. After returning home, I posted the unedited version to my friend circle with the text: [Two buses illegally drove into xx apartment. Is it a distortion of human nature or a loss of morality?] 5 In the following hours, people kept sending me WeChat messages and calling me, all wanting to get some new gossip from my mouth. A few good friends also created a group chat to angrily scold Liam. Even Liam wetting his pants when he was a child was regarded as a sign of a scumbag. My mom also called to ask me: “Did Xiao Lin really do such a thing?” I sighed: “It’s genuine. I originally listened to your advice and wanted to tackle him to talk properly, but when I went downstairs to his house again, I bumped into this kind of thing.” “Sigh, Mom, I feel so tired inside, I don’t want to love anymore…” I deliberately put on a depressed tone, making my mom anxious enough to shout at my dad a few times, telling him not to treat Liam the scumbag as a son-in-law again. In the following days, the heat of this matter remained unabated, and it was even spread to the alumni group of my former school. Because of this, Liam, who had been kept in the dark by mutual friends, learned about this matter. He called, trying to get me to delete the video and help him clarify. “Xia, I don’t know when you arrived downstairs at my apartment, but that day I was really rejecting Tara all the time. She came over and forcibly kissed me. I was the one being molested.” Relying on the blurred sound in the video, Liam suspected that I didn’t hear their unbearable flirting, so he fooled me like a pig’s head. “Liam, don’t always treat others as idiots. You are a young man with a height of 185cm and a weight of 70kg. You actually said that you had no power to fight back when facing the molestation of a thin woman?” “You might as well admit openly that you enjoyed it. This way at least I won’t make another note for you in my heart.” “Xia!” Liam’s tone was very impatient. “Do you know that because of this video, I have been interviewed by the company leaders, and former colleagues are also laughing at me behind my back. This is obviously a misunderstanding. Why did you post it online to ruin me?” “Be good, Xia. You quickly delete those videos and help me clarify with my colleagues.” “Just say that I was drunk that day, unconscious, so I was forcibly kissed by Tara. I promise I won’t do this kind of thing again in the future. We will be good in the future, okay?” I sneered: “Liam, did you also accidentally fall in when you Slept with Tara? Stop being hypocritical here. A dog barking twice is more credible than you.” When words reached this point, Liam stopped pretending to be affectionate and roared fiercely: “Feng Xia! We have been dating for ten years anyway. Are you backstabbing me like this?” Across the screen, I could feel Liam’s anger. Yes, everything I did was indeed meant to disgust him. He thought I didn’t consider our past friendship, but when he was messing around with Tara, did he ever consider my feelings? If I were love-brained, I would definitely be in extreme pain now. “Liam, I’m just telling everyone the truth. This counts as backstabbing?” “Let me tell you what backstabbing is. Backstabbing is you cheating on me to fool around with Tara. Backstabbing is you disregarding our friendship of over twenty years, riding a bus on one side, and wanting me to be the pick-up-artist to marry you on the other side.” Because of a guilty conscience, Liam unconsciously raised his volume: “Feng Xia! I just made a mistake that all men in the world might make. Why are you so heartless? Do you have to completely ruin me?” “It’s not me trying to ruin you, it’s you ruining yourself. However, don’t think too much. Things like AIDS and syphilis shouldn’t be so unfortunate to infect you. The probability is probably gonorrhea.” After speaking, I wanted to hang up directly, but I didn’t expect Liam to say another harsh word at the end. “Fine, Feng Xia, don’t regret it! Aren’t you just jealous that Tara attracts men’s love? Then I’ll be with her, making you tomboy appear more like a failure!” Liam obviously didn’t realize that his threat had no effect on me. Losing the love of this man is like a shark losing a chicken wishbone. For a period of time afterwards, to anger me, Liam showed off his love with Tara in various ways every day. He not only posted intimate photos and gift photos of the two, but also posted the ultra-thin 001 they used. To prevent me from missing it, Liam specially registered a new account and bought traffic. Tara also made bold statements in her friend circle: [It’s the year 6202, didn’t expect there are still such old-fashioned “old nun” spoiled wives existing. Got dumped by a man, and takes anger out on another beauty (rolling eyes) (rolling eyes)] [This old lady is a thousand-man slayer, so what? Just say if you’re jealous, don’t peek and sneak shot behind the back like a cockroach. But now it’s good~ The little cockroach’s dear hubby has become this old lady’s forty-ninth boyfriend. Spoiled wife must be crying faintly in the WC~ (smile) (fireworks)] Causing several mutual friends to come to me with screenshots one after another asking: Are the two of them crazy? I replied: Probably cauliflower grew into their brains!

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I married my former best friend’s brother, a man who would become both my decades-long tormentor and my deepest savior. At the wedding reception, Tessa Reed wore a smirk that was razor-sharp. “I can’t believe, after everything that happened at The Haven—you being framed and losing your adoption slot—you still found a way to climb into a Nash bed,” she drawled, her voice loud enough to carry. Then she leaned close, her breath smelling of champagne and something cheaper. “Too bad you were a little late to the party.” “Just a little tip from one woman to another,” she whispered into my ear. “Callum Nash only likes red lingerie.” Before I could process the petty cruelty, someone bumped me, sending me straight into Callum’s arms. As the crowd cheered, I looked up. Callum, already drunk, was looking past me, straight at Tessa. His gaze—ardent, burning, and utterly possessive—was a secret I instantly understood, a silent promise I spent the next fifteen years paying for. Despite my suspicions, I pressed down on every dark thought and we became the perfect warring couple. He ruined our child to protect Tessa; I orchestrated a scheme so he missed his parents’ final moments. He lost the use of his legs saving me from a fire; I single-handedly averted his family’s financial ruin when they were on the brink of collapse. It was a tumultuous, heartbreaking dance that lasted for over a decade. Then, Tessa died in a sudden car crash. Callum, in his wedding tuxedo, took his own life the next day. He left a note saying he would spend his next life making amends to me, yet he willed his entire estate to Tessa’s orphaned son. I ended up broken, destitute, and dying alone on the streets. But I woke up. I was back in The Haven Children’s Home. A handsome, clear-eyed boy strode in with his parents. He pointed right at me, excited. 1 “Mom, Dad, if you’re getting me a sister, pick her! She looks tough and smart. She’ll be the perfect addition to the family legacy.” The moment those words left his mouth, I knew. Callum had come back too. I recalled the words of his suicide note, and a soft, bitter laugh escaped me. He was certainly trying to “keep his promise.” In my previous life, driven by a desperate hunger to escape the poverty and abuse of The Haven, I had been ruthlessly ambitious. I worked tirelessly to catch the eye of the affluent. My calculation had succeeded: Callum’s parents were ready to adopt me. But the day before my rescue, Callum walked in with Tessa. Believing Tessa’s manufactured tears and her accusations—that I had been manipulative, had flirted with a staff member, and was simply a congenital liar—he had ripped my dream apart. That day, as he led Tessa away, he made sure to shout a warning to the entire room: “Amanda Lane is a curse. Stay away from her if you want any luck.” In that instant, I fell from a hellhole into an abyss, and I endured another five years of relentless suffering. Tessa, meanwhile, was adopted by the Nashes and became their cherished heiress. Now, I stood before Mr. and Mrs. Nash. Callum, speaking to me, said, “This time, you’ll be my sister. I’ll take care of you. You won’t have to envy anyone… and you won’t have to suffer another five years alone.” I understood. He was trying to atone for the guilt of his previous life. He knew Tessa had lied. He was tortured by his decades of regret and those five extra years I spent in misery. Mr. and Mrs. Nash nodded, their eyes, just like before, already fond of me. I was about to refuse—I wanted no part of his atonement—when a young Tessa ran in, sobbing. Her clothes were torn. She had a bloody gash on her arm. “Tessa! Are you… are you alright?” She glanced at me, a flicker of warning in her eyes, before collapsing at the Nashes’ feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, please tell me you’re here to save me! I don’t want to die! Please, I’m begging you!” She was imitating me. That desperate act was how I had once saved myself from the director, a true monster. Tessa, always the lucky one, always the darling of fate, had never been targeted by him. In my past life, seeing my self-rescue tactic used against me had sent me into a destructive fit of outrage, leading the Nashes to immediately dislike me. Now, Callum knew she was lying, yet he couldn’t help the flicker of pure, agonizing concern. “Who hurt you? I swear I’ll make them pay.” Tessa didn’t dare risk not being adopted and incurring the director’s wrath. I blinked, stepped forward, and spoke in a cool, rational voice. “It was the director. He preys on the prettiest girls. Tessa is the prettiest one here.” “What? That animal!” Mr. Nash clenched his fist. “Oh, darling, don’t cry,” Mrs. Nash murmured, her compassion immediate. Callum stood beside them, his lips tight, his gaze lowered. I knew him too well. He had changed his mind. “Mom, Dad, let’s adopt Tessa.” “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, you should adopt Tessa.” Callum and I spoke in unison. 2 “Amanda, why?” Callum looked at me, utterly bewildered. He knew that at this exact moment in the previous life, I would have fought like a cornered animal to be saved, desperate to leave this pit. But now I was… giving up the chance. I ignored the complexity and guilt in his eyes, maintaining a cool, detached composure. “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, I want to try being an only child for once. I’d prefer a family without any other children. Thank you for the offer.” The Nashes looked disappointed but accepting. As Tessa was being led away, she deliberately came over to me. She tilted her head up, a look of pampered arrogance and triumph washing over her face. “I told you, Amanda Lane, you can’t beat me. I’m going to be a rich man’s daughter now. As for you? Stay here and suffer. You only have yourself to blame for being too stupid to call out my lie!” Tessa laughed and walked away. After she left, a shaken, slender figure emerged from the shadows. Callum looked utterly lost, his face a portrait of suspicion. He hadn’t expected Tessa to be anything less than a pure, innocent victim; he hadn’t expected her to utter such… despicable words. He looked at me with a desperate, complicated expression, his eyes seeking my help. He was reaching for me, depending on me to offer him solace and perspective. I chose to ignore him. I turned my back and walked away. “Amanda.” I paused. “You came back, too, didn’t you?” I didn’t answer. “Amanda, I’m sorry. You know how it is, Tessa is still young. She’ll change.” “Oh, right.” I smiled. Why should I care? I had no intention of ever being involved with either of them again. “Amanda!” Callum panicked, darted forward, and grabbed my arm. He pulled out the meager cash he had. “Take this for now. I failed you again. I owe you this. Within half a month… no, five days. Three days. I promise I’ll find a way to get you out.” “Don’t bother.” “Amanda, I will save you. Wait for me!” Callum had to rush off, not because I had refused him, but because Tessa had stumbled nearby and cried out. I simply smiled. Of course. Thank goodness I hadn’t let a single ounce of hope latch onto Callum Nash this time. After Tessa was gone, I don’t know what she told the director, but this life’s version of him was crueler, his methods more vicious. The threat of immediate danger became overwhelming. Three days passed. Five days passed. A half a month… a month passed… Callum never came. I, risking the possibility of a broken arm, managed to record video evidence of the director’s crimes, successfully contacting the police and the media. As the police led the director away, the boys who were usually favored by him surrounded me. “Amanda Lane, this was you, wasn’t it, you ungrateful bitch!” “I’ll kill you! The director is gone, what are we supposed to do now? Starve?” “Kill her! Kill Amanda Lane, the lying little tramp!” “Beat her!” I struggled to protect my head and already-injured arm, utterly overwhelmed by the pain. I had expected this. The five boys attacking me were the director’s own biological sons. They were defending their father. Suddenly, the ringleader picked up a rock and aimed it at my head. In a flash, a figure leaped in front of me. The rock struck. “Ah!” A cry of pain. Callum Nash had been hit while shielding me. 3 My pupils contracted. “Callum! Are you okay?” A stream of bright red blood ran down his forehead, obscuring his vision. Callum wiped the blood from his face. He looked frail, yet he laughed, euphoric. “I finally saved you this time! Amanda, I was on time this time!” At his words, the immediate concern and guilt in my heart vanished. In the past life, our baby—so small, so sweet, the one who loved us most—had died. Because of Tessa’s lie, Callum had abandoned me and the child in the freezing wilderness. I was forced to watch our baby die, before wandering the mountains like a zombie for three days. When the rescue team found me, I was insane. My revenge against Tessa was total. And Callum, naturally, had to protect her. We had completely destroyed each other. I attacked his deepest insecurities; he targeted my very soul. The decades of entanglement only ended when he sacrificed his legs to save me, leaving the proud, elegant young man a cripple. At the time, consumed by guilt, I decided to let go of the past and live a life with him. But he used that very sacrifice as leverage. Pale and weak, sitting in his hospital bed, Callum’s eyes were red as he begged me, “Amanda, let go of Tessa. Do it for my legs.” My soul emptied out of me in that instant. I cried silently and agreed. “Fine. I promise.” Now, Callum was hysterical, holding my hand even through his pain. “Amanda, I told you I would protect you.” The next second, I was shoved to the ground. Slap— Tessa appeared and struck my face several times. “You curse! Stay away from my brother! He’s mine!” Tessa carefully helped Callum to his feet. “Tessa, don’t do that. Apologize to Amanda immediately.” Tessa immediately burst into tears, and Callum, unable to stand her distress, began to soothe and mollify her. I ignored the triumphant smile on Tessa’s face, brushed the dirt from my clothes, and prepared to leave. “Stop right there! Who said you, the curse, could leave?” Tessa’s true, spoiled nature emerged. “Stay away from my brother. I won’t allow you to hurt him.” “Tessa!” When Callum saw me turn, he instinctively stepped forward, shielding Tessa with his body. He always assumed I was the aggressor who would hurt Tessa. He always automatically forgot that my situation was invariably worse than hers. I rattled off a few names and several complex account numbers. Tessa was utterly confused; she didn’t understand a word. Her gaze toward me sharpened with malice. Callum, however, understood. That was the exact information detailing the start of his parents’ business decline. It had taken me years of effort, contacts, and painstaking investigation in the previous life to uncover that data, which I had used to save his company. “Amanda, what are you…” “Thank you for saving me this time, but don’t bother again. Callum, I don’t owe you anything. I hope you can keep your distance from now on.” Callum was struck dumb, as if his soul had been pulled from his body. He couldn’t process it. He likely never imagined that the woman who had deeply loved him in the previous life would now only wish to escape him entirely. 4 Soon, the state took over The Haven. They improved the facilities and brought in professional, ethical staff. The former director was already locked up. I and the other children had been spared five years of hardship. The other kids—those who had both bullied me and occasionally protected me—now recognized the positive change I’d engineered. They began to rally around me, seeking my approval and friendship. The director’s five illegitimate sons, however, started to get bullied themselves. I watched, satisfied. I always pay my debts, good or bad. The following month, Callum rushed to find me. He apologized profusely, explaining that Tessa had been sick and he had been tied up caring for her. He hung his head, apologizing. He was always like this: choosing Tessa, then offering me a shred of warmth… like dangling a carrot on a stick for a donkey. “Amanda, I found a new school for you. And I found a family willing to adopt you.” “No need, thank you.” My tone was polite but utterly distant. The government had already arranged schooling for all of us. It was an unfortunate coincidence that Tessa and I were placed in the same class. Within three days, the entire grade knew the rumor: I had “flirted with the forty-year-old director of the orphanage.” Boys pulled at my clothes strap; girls looked at me with disgust and contempt, ostracizing me. Soon, they gave me a vicious nickname, “The Pit Stop,” and hurled every insult they could think of. All of this was Tessa’s work. I calculated the time. My birth parents, whom I’d painstakingly found in my past life, should be returning to the country soon. Feeling confident, during a class break, Tessa threw her pencil case, hitting me in the back of the head. She yelled, “Hey, Pit Stop, new clothes today, huh? Which man did you trade for that outfit?” “Hahaha!” “Right! The total trash!” “She’s disgusting, that Pit Stop…” I stood up instantly and strode toward Tessa. As she watched me, cocky and challenging, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head straight into the mop bucket. “Ah! Ahhh! Let go of me, let me go!” I grinned, a cruel, cold expression. “Your mouth is filthy. You keep giving me disgusting nicknames. Tessa, we both came from The Haven. The Nashes wanted to adopt me. I gave that slot to you. The director initially targeted you. I protected you. Now, you repay my kindness by spreading lies and bullying me? You are a traitorous, ungrateful bitch!” “No! Ah! Stop it…” The dirty mop water spilled into Tessa’s mouth as she screamed. I sped up my accusations, detailing the things Tessa had done: how she’d turned people against each other, the nasty things she said about her own clique, how she’d spread rumors that forced the previous teacher to quit… As I spoke, nobody tried to stop me from punishing Tessa. In fact, some even shouted encouragement. More people were exchanging glances, realizing that everything I was saying about Tessa was true. “Amanda Lane, I won’t let you hurt Tessa!” Someone charged at me from behind. I lost my footing and fell. My left arm, the one I’d injured recording the director, took the brunt of the fall. The pain was excruciating; I was sure I heard the sickening crunch of the bone breaking again. My face went white. Callum, who had rushed over and helped Tessa up, looked at me on the floor, his eyes filled with shock and immediate regret. Tessa, sobbing, clutched his arm. “Brother, make her leave school! Amanda bullied me! Get her expelled!” “Alright, I promise, little sister.” I scoffed. “Of course. Callum, you are as predictable as ever, and just as contemptible.” Callum lowered his head. “Amanda, you were wrong first. But I will make it up to you later.” “You don’t have to, because I…” The teacher suddenly burst excitedly into the room, oblivious to the chaos. She shouted, “Amanda Lane, your birth parents are here to take you home! They said they are taking you abroad for a family reunion!”

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“Let’s get a fake divorce.” Mark placed a document on the kitchen counter in front of me. My hand, holding the knife I was using to chop vegetables, froze mid-air. “We’ll transfer the house to my mom’s name for now. Once the new regulations pass, we’ll remarry.” His tone was casual, as if he were discussing what to have for dinner. “It’s for the good of our family.” I just looked at him. My husband of eight years, saying the word “divorce” without so much as blinking. “I’ll write up the agreement,” he added. “All you have to do is sign.” I lowered my eyes to the papers. The house: goes to the husband. The savings: go to the husband. Custody of our daughter: goes to the husband. And me? I would leave with nothing. “For the good of our family,” I repeated his words, a small, tight curve forming on my lips. “Fine.” I set the knife down. “I’ll sign it.” 1. Mark seemed taken aback by how quickly I agreed. He just stared for a second. “You… you’re okay with this?” “You said it’s for the good of our family,” I said, wiping my hands on a towel. “How could I say no?” He watched me for a few more seconds, then a slow smile spread across his face. “I knew you were an understanding woman.” An understanding woman. I rolled the words around in my mind. In eight years of marriage, that was the first time he’d ever praised me like that. “Take a look at the agreement first,” he said, sliding the papers toward me. “If you have any issues, we can talk about them.” I picked up the document and read through it, page by page. Assets: • Property: Marital home in the Southwood district. 1,300 sq. ft., valued at approximately $850,000. To be transferred to the husband. • Savings: Joint savings account containing $140,000. To be transferred to the husband. • Vehicle: One Volkswagen Passat. To be transferred to the husband. • Child Custody: Sole custody of our daughter awarded to the husband. Me: Entitled to nothing. “This part…” I pointed to the custody clause. “Our daughter stays with you?” “My mom will help out,” Mark said without a second thought. “You can’t manage her on your own.” “And what about me?” “You can visit her whenever you want,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not like I’m banning you from seeing her.” I met his gaze and held it, saying nothing. He shifted uncomfortably. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I set the agreement down. “I’ll look it over. I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.” “Okay.” He let out a breath, visibly relieved. “No rush, anyway. The new tax laws don’t kick in until next month.” The “new tax laws” were the capital gains regulations everyone was talking about. His plan was to execute a sham divorce, transfer the house to his mother to shield it as her primary residence, and then remarry me when the dust settled. It would save us a fortune in taxes. It sounded perfectly logical. I nodded and put the agreement away in a drawer. “What do you want for dinner?” I asked. “Whatever.” He already had his phone in his hand. “You decide.” I turned and walked back into the kitchen. Whatever. That was his answer for everything lately. Whatever for dinner, whatever clothes to wear, whatever time he came home. Everything was “whatever.” Except for this divorce. On that, he was anything but casual. The agreement was meticulous, every clause spelled out, not a single word left to chance. I opened the fridge, my eyes scanning the contents. After a moment, I pulled out a steak. As I began to slice the meat, my hand was perfectly steady. His mother showed up during dinner. “Mark told me about the plan,” she announced with a smile as she walked in. “It’s the smart thing to do.” I put down my fork. “So you know about it, Mom?” “Of course, I know.” She took a seat at the table. “We transfer the house to my name, and once the policy stuff is over, we transfer it right back. No harm done.” “The agreement also says our savings and the car go to Mark.” “They’ll be safer with him for now,” she said, helping herself to some salad. “We’re family. What’s mine is yours, right?” “And our daughter?” “I’ll help raise her,” she declared, as if it were a settled fact. “You couldn’t handle it by yourself.” The exact same words Mark had used. I managed a small smile. “Mom, Mark and I have been married for eight years.” “That’s right, eight years,” she nodded. “Time flies, doesn’t it?” “For these eight years,” I continued, “the mortgage, our daughter’s tuition, the daily bills… I put every single paycheck I earned into our joint account. I never kept a cent for myself.” “Well, that’s what you’re supposed to do,” she replied. “You earn money to support the family.” “So when we get this ‘fake’ divorce, I’m supposed to walk away with nothing?” His mother blinked. “But it’s just for show!” she said, a note of exasperation in her voice. “Goodness, Evelyn, why are you being so difficult?” Just for show. I looked at her sincere, untroubled face. “You’re right, Mom,” I nodded. “I’m making a big deal out of nothing.” She beamed, satisfied. “That’s my girl. In a family, we don’t nickel-and-dime each other.” Beside us, Mark scrolled through his phone, not even looking up. I lowered my head and ate my dinner in silence. After dinner, I went to wash the dishes. I could hear Mark and his mother talking in the living room. Their voices were low, but I caught a few words. “…next month… transfer… no problem…” I turned the faucet on full blast, letting the rush of water drown out their voices. When I was done, I dried my hands and walked back into the living room. “Mom, it’s getting late. Why don’t I drive you home tomorrow?” “No, no, that’s alright.” She stood up. “I’ll grab a cab. You two get some rest.” On her way out, she patted my hand. “Evelyn, honey, try to be understanding. Mark is under a lot of pressure.” “I know,” I said. After she left, I went to our bedroom. Mark was already in bed, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. I walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. His credit card statements were tucked away at the very back. I pulled them out and started flipping through the last three months. September: a charge for $320 at the Fairmont Hotel. Another for $2,150 at Tiffany & Co. A third for $585 at a high-end steakhouse. October: Fairmont Hotel, $320. The Ritz-Carlton, $450. A single transaction for $3,700 at Nordstrom. November: Fairmont Hotel, $320. Fairmont Hotel, $320… The same hotel, once a week, like clockwork. Jewelry stores, department stores, fancy restaurants. I had never received any of these gifts. I put the statements back and quietly closed the drawer. “What are you looking for?” Mark’s voice came from the bed. “Just grabbing something,” I said, turning around. “Let’s get some sleep. We both have work tomorrow.” He grunted in response and went back to his phone. I lay down and closed my eyes, but the numbers kept flashing behind my eyelids. $2,150. $3,700. $320… It’s for the good of our family. Mark’s words echoed in my head. Was it, though? Was it for the good of our family? Or was it for the good of his? I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness above me. Tomorrow, I had some investigating to do. 2. The next morning, as soon as Mark left for work, I called in and took a half-day off. The phone rang almost immediately. It was my mother-in-law. “Evelyn? Why aren’t you at work today?” “I had something to take care of,” I said vaguely. “Just handling it from home.” “What is it?” “Work stuff.” She said “oh” and didn’t press further. After hanging up, I opened my laptop. First, I checked his location history. Mark and I had shared our locations since the year we got married. It was his idea, “to make it easier to find each other,” he’d said. I had never once used it to check up on him. Today was the first time. I pulled up his location data for the past three months. And then I froze. Three or four times a week, nearly every week, he went to the same place. An apartment complex on the east side of town. It wasn’t his office. It wasn’t a client’s address. It wasn’t anywhere he had ever mentioned to me. I zoomed in on the map and wrote down the name of the complex. Sunnyside Gardens, Building B. I’d never heard of it. I picked up my phone and sent a message to my best friend, Sophia. Soph, you there? Here. What’s up? she replied instantly. You’re a real estate agent. Can you look someone up for me? Who? Someone who lives at Sunnyside Gardens, Building B. I need to know whose name is on the deed. What are you digging for, Evie? I hesitated, then decided against telling her everything just yet. Just help me out. Dinner’s on me. Deal. Gimme a few. I put my phone down and went back to Mark’s credit card statements, sorting every charge by date. Hotel stays: 12 times. Jewelry stores: 3 times. Restaurants: 8 times. Department stores: 5 times. Every single one on a weekday. And every single one had nothing to do with me. I took out a piece of paper and started adding up the numbers. The hotel stays came to about $4,000. The jewelry, around $6,500. The restaurants, nearly $4,500. The shopping sprees, over $11,000. In just three months, he had spent over $26,000. That was more than $100,000 a year. And this had been going on for how long? Three years? The pen in my hand started to shake. My phone rang. It was Sophia. “Evie, I got it.” “Tell me.” “Sunnyside Gardens, Building B, apartment 1402. The owner is a Zoe Jensen. Female, 26 years old. The deed was transferred to her name this past June.” Zoe Jensen. I wrote the name down on the paper. “That’s all the public info I can pull,” Sophia said. “If you need more, you’d have to go to the county records office. Evie, seriously, what is this about?” “Thanks, Soph. I owe you dinner,” I said, and hung up. Zoe Jensen, 26. Sunnyside Gardens, apartment 1402. Deed transferred in June. I opened our banking app and scrolled through the transaction history for our joint account. I went back, and back, until I reached May of this year. May 28th. A wire transfer for $80,000. Recipient: Zoe Jensen. Memo: Down payment on house. The world stopped. Eighty thousand dollars. Almost everything we had managed to save in eight years of marriage. He had wired our entire life savings to her. I stared at the screen, my body numb. It’s for the good of our family. His voice was a venomous whisper in my ear. So this was it. This was what “for the good of our family” meant. Give my money to another woman. Then make me sign a document to leave with nothing. And after that? Marry her? I closed the app and leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to breathe. In, out. In, out. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw anything. I didn’t pick up the phone to scream at him. I just sat there, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, as the numbers spun in my head. $80,000. 89 location pings. $26,000 in lavish spending. 8 years of marriage. And that “fake divorce” agreement. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had it all planned out. The fake divorce, transferring the house to his mom—no, that was a lie. He was never going to put it in his mother’s name. It was for her, wasn’t it? The savings were his. The car was his. Our daughter was his. And me? I was left with the scraps. He didn’t even want me to have the scraps. At five o’clock, Mark came home from work. “You didn’t go in today?” He seemed surprised to see me. “Took a half-day,” I said. “Had some things to do.” “What things?” “Work things.” He grunted and dropped his bag, slipping into his house shoes before collapsing onto the sofa. It was all so painfully normal. “Did you finish reading the agreement?” he asked. “I did.” “And?” I walked over and sat in the armchair across from him. “I have a question for you.” “Go ahead.” “The house. After we transfer it to your mom’s name, when can we transfer it back?” “As soon as the new regulations are clear. Six months, tops.” “Six months,” I nodded. “And the savings?” “They’ll stay with me for now. But if you need anything, you can just ask.” “Just ask,” I repeated, nodding again. He seemed a little on edge. “Do you… have a problem with that?” I looked straight at him. “No problem at all,” I said. “I just wanted to confirm.” “Confirm what?” “Confirm that everything you’re telling me is the truth.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then broke into a grin. “Of course, it’s the truth,” he said. “Why would I lie to you?” “Right,” I said, mirroring his smile. “Why would you?” I stood up. “I heated up dinner. You should eat.” “You’re not eating?” “Not hungry.” I started toward the bedroom. “About the agreement, I just need a little more time to think.” “Fine,” he said. “Take your time. There’s no rush.” I closed the bedroom door behind me. Take my time. Yes, I would. I needed to take my time. And think very carefully about how I was going to get back every single penny that belonged to me. 3. The next day, I did something I never thought I would do. I went to see a lawyer. Sophia had recommended her. A college friend who specialized in family law. “Tell me everything,” the lawyer said. Her name was Ms. Sutton, a sharp woman in her thirties with an air of no-nonsense competence. I laid out all my evidence on her polished desk. The credit card statements. Screenshots of the location history. The wire transfer record. The property information on Zoe’s apartment. And finally, the “fake divorce” agreement Mark had drafted. Ms. Sutton examined each document carefully, her expression unreadable. When she finished, she looked up at me. “Your husband is quite the operator,” she said, her voice dry. “He certainly has all his ducks in a row.” “He wants me to leave with nothing.” “This agreement,” Ms. Sutton tapped the paper, “did he write it himself?” “Yes.” “Has he signed it yet?” “He said he’d sign it after I did.” A small, knowing smile touched Ms. Sutton’s lips. “He probably has no idea,” she said, “that this very document could be his undoing.” I stared at her. “What do you mean?” Ms. Sutton flipped the agreement back to the first page. “Look here.” She pointed to a line. “Assets, Property: To be transferred to the husband.” “Right.” “But this was your marital home, purchased after you were married, correct?” “Yes.” “Who paid the down payment?” “His parents gave us $50,000, and we paid the other $150,000.” “And that $150,000 included your money?” “I put in every cent of my savings.” Ms. Sutton nodded, satisfied. “Then the house is marital property,” she stated. “He has no right to dispose of it unilaterally.” “But the agreement he wants me to sign says—” “The agreement he wants you to sign,” Ms. Sutton cut in, “is legally considered a postnuptial agreement.” She held up the paper. “If both parties sign this, it becomes legally binding.” “But here’s the thing,” she said, that smile returning, “the agreement he wrote, which gifts all assets to himself, assumes one thing: that you have no grounds to contest it.” “And I do?” “Oh, yes,” Ms. Sutton said, her eyes glinting behind her glasses. “He made a critical error.” “What error?” “He forgot something very important,” she said, her voice sharp and clear. “He’s the at-fault party.” It took me a moment to process. “Illegally transferring $80,000 of marital assets to a third party,” Ms. Sutton said, ticking off points on her fingers, “that’s fault.” “Adultery, that’s fault.” “Maintaining a long-term affair and cohabitating with a third party during the marriage, that’s fault.” “And our state’s laws are very clear. When a divorce occurs, the non-faulting party can seek damages, and the at-fault party may receive a significantly smaller share of the assets, or in some cases, none at all.” It was finally starting to click. “So you’re saying…” “I’m saying,” Ms. Sutton leaned forward, “he’s trying to leave you with nothing. But in the end, the one walking away empty-handed might just be him.” I stared at the agreement on her desk. “But I need more proof,” I said. “The transfer is one thing, but it’s not enough to prove everything.” “You need three categories of evidence,” Ms. Sutton said, holding up three fingers. “First, proof of the affair. Second, proof of the asset transfer. Third, proof that he acted with malicious intent.” “How do I get it?” “Proof of the affair: hotel receipts, text messages, photos,” she listed. “You already have the smoking gun for the asset transfer: the $80,000 wire record.” “And the third thing?” “That’s the easiest part.” Ms. Sutton’s smile was predatory. “You get him to admit it himself.” “How?” “You record him.” I fell silent. A recording. Get him to admit, in his own words, to the affair and the transfer of money. Then use his own voice against him in a court of law. “Are you willing to do it?” Ms. Sutton asked. I thought of him lying in bed, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. I thought of his mother, telling me it was all for the good of the family. I thought of those four words on his agreement: Entitled to nothing. “I am,” I said. “Then let’s make a plan.” Ms. Sutton pulled out a notepad. “Step one: you continue to play along with his fake divorce.” “What?” “Don’t let him suspect you know the truth,” she explained. “The more secure he feels, the more likely he is to slip up.” “Step two: gather your evidence. Bank records, chat logs, and that recording. The more, the better.” “Step three: when he pressures you to sign the agreement, you sign it.” I was stunned. “Sign it?” “Yes,” Ms. Sutton confirmed with a firm nod. “Sign it.” “But that agreement gives him everything—” “That agreement was written by him,” Ms. Sutton said, her eyes practically shining. “An agreement he wrote and he signed becomes a legally recognized document.” “You sign it, he signs it, and the agreement is official.” “And then?” “And then,” she said, “you take that signed agreement, along with all your evidence, and you file for divorce in court.” “Think about what the judge will see,” she said, her words precise and deliberate. “A cheating husband who transferred $80,000 of marital assets to his mistress, then drafted an agreement to strip his wife of everything she’s entitled to.” “In that scenario, how do you think a judge will rule?” I finally understood. “The agreement he wrote,” I whispered, “becomes his own death warrant.” “Exactly,” Ms. Sutton grinned. “He’s selling himself down the river, and he thinks you’re the one holding the paddle.” On the way home, my mother-in-law called. “Evelyn, have you made up your mind about the agreement?” “I have,” I said. “You’ll sign?” “I’ll sign.” “Wonderful!” Her voice was overflowing with relief. “I knew you were an understanding girl!” An understanding girl. I gripped my phone, silent. “So, can we go handle the paperwork tomorrow?” she pressed. “I’ll have Mark schedule the appointment.” “Okay,” I said. “Whenever you’re ready.” I hung up and stood on the sidewalk, the cool evening breeze doing nothing to calm the fire in my mind. Tomorrow. Fine. Let them have their day. Their reckoning was coming.

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After painstaking effort, I finally slept with the aloof academic god. I drew a Dare card, requiring me to choose a male to French kiss. I chose the academic god, but he sat there, not getting up for a long time. He said to me with restraint: “Sorry, it’s not convenient right now.” A row of bullet comments appeared before my eyes: [Of course it’s not convenient. The female lead is sitting right next to him. How could he kiss the supporting female lead in front of her?] [Wait until the next round when the female lead draws a Dare to make him kiss her, he’ll kiss her immediately, and it will be a tongue kiss too. No harm without comparison.] [Wait until the supporting female lead gets rejected, cries her makeup off, and begs the male lead to kiss her like a shrew. It’s going to be hilarious.] Not wanting to be laughed at, I said: “If it’s inconvenient, forget it. I’ll kiss someone else.” 1 The surroundings instantly went quiet. Someone advised me: “What’s wrong, Chloe? Isn’t Julian your boyfriend?” “Yeah, what’s wrong with you guys? Did you fight?” “Everyone knows he dotes on you like crazy. Before, the campus wall even posted that when your couple ring accidentally fell into the artificial lake, he jumped right in to find it for you.” “Forget it, it’s just a small game. No big deal. Just drink a glass of wine. Couples always fight at the head of the bed and make up at the end.” Julian gazed at me, his eyes revealing uneasiness and worry: “Chloe, are you angry?” I pursed my lips: “No.” I poured myself a glass of wine. Julian hadn’t betrayed me substantially yet, and there was no need for me to kiss someone else out of spite. Because I didn’t complete the Dare, I had to drink a glass of wine as punishment. Julian poured himself a full glass of wine and said to me: “This round is my fault. I’ll accept the punishment.” He tilted his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing, and drank the glass of wine to the last drop. The game continued as usual. My expression looked normal, not sad because Julian rejected me. But inside, I couldn’t stop feeling awkward, sour, and full. My attention couldn’t focus on the game, constantly thinking about who the female lead mentioned in the bullet comments was. Just then, junior student Bella drew a Dare card and timidly raised her hand: “Um… I seem to have drawn ‘choose a member of the opposite sex to kiss’ too.” She looked around at the men, and finally, her wet gaze settled on Julian: “Senior, I only know you here. Can you help me?” Everyone held their breath, eyes shifting between me and her, seeming to wait for a drama. The bullet comments were excited: [Baby is so brave! Finally learned to boldly ask for love.] [Wait until the supporting female lead goes crazy like a shrew and pushes down baby female lead, then the male lead feels sorry for the female lead and makes the supporting female lead apologize to baby in front of everyone. Too doting.] [But isn’t it not good for the female lead to do this? The supporting female lead is still the male lead’s girlfriend after all. A bit crossing the line, right?] [Whoever said that must be the supporting female lead’s simp. Just a supporting female lead, what’s the big deal? Besides, the male lead doesn’t really like her.] [Later when they break up, the supporting female lead threatens suicide to get back together, the male lead doesn’t care at all and even mocks her to jump if she has the guts.] My palms went cold. I wouldn’t go crazy and push Bella in such a public place. But I wanted to see Julian’s reaction. Julian looked at Bella and frowned: “I thought they made it very clear. I have a girlfriend.” Bella asked around and no one helped her. She bit her lower lip, eyes red with grievance: “I’m allergic to alcohol. Senior, if you can’t kiss me, can you at least help me drink a glass of wine as punishment?” At this time, Julian frowned slightly and looked at me: “Chloe, do you agree? I only listen to you.” The bullet comments were dumbfounded: [Did I see wrong? The male lead actually asked for a supporting female lead’s opinion.] [And he didn’t even take the initiative to kiss my baby female lead. Boohoo, is this really a sweet pampering novel?] [Laughing to death, you guys really believe it. The male lead is just asking symbolically. Even if the supporting female lead is unwilling, the male lead won’t listen. It will only be more face-slapping then.] I clenched my hands and pretended to be calm: “Up to you.” But inside, I awkwardly hoped Julian would refuse her. However. Julian’s eyes darkened. He picked up the wine glass and drank that glass of wine for Bella. My heart twitched fiercely. I desperately explained for him in my heart, don’t be jealous, Julian helped her drink because Bella is allergic to alcohol. But the bullet comments woke me up again and again: [Hehe, I said how could the male lead really ignore baby female lead? Isn’t he helping her drink now!] [Cold face washing underwear literature (trope where cold male lead secretly does sweet things), love it love it.] [But no matter what, can’t let baby be embarrassed in public. Hmph, punish him with chasing wife crematorium (trope where male lead has to work hard to win back female lead).] [Stupid, haven’t you noticed? In a place no one noticed, the male lead is already quietly hard.] [Hehe, must be because baby female lead looks too cute when aggrieved. Someone looks calm on the surface, but actually must have been unable to hold back long ago, wanting to ‘supermarket’ (slang for wanting to have sex) her.] [No wonder he didn’t get up to kiss her. Turns out he was afraid the big guy below would scare baby.] Seeing the bullet comments, my heart sank suddenly. Julian reacted to Bella? I desperately denied it in my heart, but my gaze uncontrollably moved down slowly, noticing that place. It really pitched a small tent. My heart went cold to the bottom instantly. No matter what, physiological reactions don’t lie. I was cold all over, and my eyes moistened immediately. Julian accepted the punishment for Bella. The game continued as usual. But I didn’t want to play anymore. Just wanted to escape this place quickly. The bullet comments were extremely looking forward to the next plot: [Friendly reminder, tonight baby will draw a card to get a room with a man.] [The male lead is a yandere jealousy king, extremely possessive. How can he tolerate baby getting a room with someone else? As long as she dares, tonight he will definitely bully her until her pupils lose focus.] Seeing this line of bullet comments, my nails dug into my palms, so uncomfortable that I almost couldn’t hold back tears. Sitting aside, Lucas gently patted my shoulder: “What’s wrong with you?” I shook my head and said: “I’m fine.” Lucas is my cousin who has always taken care of me. Neither of us publicly stated our relationship, so people present didn’t know Lucas was my relative. Just then, Lucas drew a Dare card, and his smile gradually disappeared. It read: [Take any girl on the field to open a hotel room, and send a screenshot of the room booking to the group chat.] This card was too big a play. Everyone immediately laughed, enjoying the drama. The bullet comments excitedly reminded: [Attention everyone! After this round, next round the female lead will draw a card to get a room with a boy!] [Because the male lead refused to kiss her, the female lead angrily asked another man to get a room with her. The male lead couldn’t stand it and dragged her hand directly to open a room at a hotel outside.] [Asking another man? That’s bad. The male lead is a hidden yandere. When he gets jealous, it’s deadly. Tonight he must check her ‘education’ (slang for sex) hard in the hotel!] [Hahaha, the male lead dumps the supporting female lead to take baby female lead to get a room. The supporting female lead being left here alone is too embarrassing.] Lucas felt this Dare was a bit too much and planned to drink a glass of wine directly as punishment. But I suddenly grabbed his wrist: “Did you forget? You just had a stomach problem last time, you can’t drink. “I’ll go get a room with you.” He was stunned: “What did you say?” Before he could refuse, I had already pulled him up. Lucas has always spoiled me. Although he didn’t figure out the situation, he still cooperated and stood up, walking out with me. Under the gaze of everyone, I pulled another man to get a room, leaving my boyfriend here alone. Seeing this, Julian’s pupils shrank sharply, and he quickly got up and chased out. “Chloe!” But Bella stopped him first, blocking him, eyes red: “Senior, don’t go. I only know you here. If you go, I, a girl, will be scared. “The game isn’t over yet. Don’t worry about others, okay?” My heart ached. I dragged Lucas out, not looking at Julian once until the exit. The bullet comments started cursing: [What’s wrong with the supporting female lead? Shouldn’t she be jealous, then bully the female lead to make the male lead’s heart ache? Why did she go get a room with someone else!] [If she gets a room with someone else, who will push the relationship line between the male and female leads?] [What the hell, the male lead actually pushed the female lead away and chased out!] [Don’t panic. Daring to push the female lead today, he will have his chasing wife crematorium in the future.] [Still don’t understand? The male lead must be angry because baby female lead accepted someone else’s love letter last time, deliberately chasing out to make baby jealous.] [I remember, yesterday after baby accepted someone else’s love letter, the male lead immediately ‘opened meat’ (had sex) with the supporting female lead. Isn’t this deliberately making the female lead jealous!] [Just right to practice with the supporting female lead, practice the skills well, so as not to hurt the female lead’s first time.] My heart sank. As the bullet comments said, Julian really pushed Bella away and chased out. I quickly got into Lucas’s car and urged him to leave quickly. Lucas listened to me very much, directly started the car, and drove away before Julian caught up. 2 In the car, I sent a message to Julian on my phone: [Let’s break up.] Then, blocked all his contact information. After doing all this, I felt drained of all strength. Lucas asked me: “What’s wrong? Isn’t your relationship always very good?” I held back the urge to cry, didn’t know how to explain, just smiled bitterly: “Nothing, just suddenly don’t like him anymore.” “Why, just because of this game?” “Yeah, just because of this game.” Lucas was stunned and persuaded me: “Are you willing? Didn’t you chase him for two years? Just let it go like that?” I gripped the phone tightly. Yeah, that’s Julian, the person I spent two years to sleep with. He is the academic god of the Mathematics Department at Tsinghua University. A random photo of him taken by a passerby posted online can break 100 million views. He is the campus beau. Also the sole heir of the Jiang Group, with unlimited future. Yet in matters of passion, he is restrained and polite. We just rolled together for the first time last night. While kissing him, I took the opportunity to touch his abs. And specifically picked sensitive places, forcing him to let out nice-sounding muffled groans. He clearly had taken off his clothes, propping himself over me, eyes red at the corners, politely and restrainedly asked me: “Chloe, I want you, may I?” I endured uncomfortably: “Clothes are off, don’t ask about this kind of thing, just do it.” My tears fell. So, he tasted the forbidden fruit with me out of spite because the female lead received a love letter? Just to make her jealous? And practice on me by the way? I pieced together this story from the bullet comments. I am the vicious supporting female lead in a sweet pampering novel. Bella is the female lead of the sweet pampering novel. She saved Julian’s father. Julian’s father had a sudden heart attack. Bella performed CPR in time and helped send him to the hospital. Knowing the two were schoolmates, Julian’s father asked Julian to take care of her. According to the plot, under my constant courting of death (making trouble), Julian felt more and more distressed for Bella, holding her as the apple of his eye. The more I acted up, the further I pushed him away. After graduation, I became more and more frenzied. Even took advantage of Julian working overtime, wearing a short skirt with nothing underneath to hide at the entrance of his company to seduce him. But was discovered by the security guard uncle on duty, dragged into the grass and violated. He and Bella happened to see this scene while walking. He covered her eyes, gently told her not to look, saying it was dirty. That night, I couldn’t bear the humiliation and jumped into the river to commit suicide. My parents died in a car accident because they couldn’t bear the huge psychological pressure. I could never imagine that I would go to this extent for Julian. This is not like me at all. I don’t want to ruin my life for him. While I don’t love him that much yet, better to let go early. Before he proposes breaking up, I propose breaking up first, cutting ties with him completely. 3 Of course, Lucas and I didn’t go to get a room. But according to the rules of Truth or Dare, we still Photoshopped a screenshot of room booking and sent it to the group, then obediently returned to the dorm. Pushed open the dorm door. Roommate saw me, eyes wide: “What’s wrong Chloe, what happened, why is your makeup ruined from crying?” I froze, realizing I had cried. I was raised like a boy by my family since young, didn’t really know how to dress up. To give Julian face tonight, I happily put on full makeup, and asked my roommate who is good at dressing up to help me match clothes. Before the gathering, I looked in the mirror, knowing for the first time I could be so pretty. But now. Makeup ruined from crying. I also broke up with Julian. I said dully: “Nothing, just broke up.” My roommate saw I was in a bad mood and didn’t ask more: “No matter the reason, you are so good, him breaking up with you is his loss. “By the way Chloe, are you hungry? I happen to be going to the cafeteria, just right to bring you dinner.” I nodded gratefully. After the roommate left, I lowered my head and deleted the sex toys I ordered last night one by one. Last night tasted the forbidden fruit for the first time, knew the taste, wanted to try many gameplays with Julian. I even held the app and asked him: “What toys do you like to use with me? Rabbit tail, handcuffs, body chains, pick whatever.” His ears were completely red, cool voice containing a bit of huskiness: “Don’t rush. If you like, we can try them one by one slowly.” Now, probably no need to try anymore. My phone received a call from a strange number. After I hung up, the phone rang again. I clicked answer, an anxious voice came from the other side: “Chloe, where are you?” It was Julian. I wiped my tears, voice cold: “Didn’t you see the room booking record in the group?” Julian breathed rapidly, as if running: “Chloe, don’t be impulsive, I’m coming to find you right now.” I smiled mockingly: “What are you coming for, to deliver condoms?” The voice on the other side stopped abruptly. Maybe the bullet comments aroused my rebellious psychology. Using me for practice, right? Using me to make the female lead jealous, right? I spoke indiscriminately: “Julian, actually I didn’t like you that much. Chasing you was just to sleep with you. Now that I’ve slept with you, it feels just like that. “Actually your skills are quite bad. I didn’t feel good at all last night. I’m going to change to someone else now. Those little toys, won’t try with you anymore.” Finished speaking, I hung up the phone. I lay on the bed, lifting my arm to block my wet eyes. We. Completely ended. 4 Early the next morning, I saw Julian in the elective class. Before, to chase him, I deliberately signed up for the same elective class as him, just to see him a few more times in class. Didn’t expect to shoot myself in the foot now. Although dating him before, I had no real sense of his family background. But after breaking up, I realized with hindsight that Julian was someone even the principal dared not offend. Thinking of me complaining about his bad skills yesterday, I was very worried he would retaliate against me. I arrived at the classroom just before class started, sneaking to sit with friends in the back row, acting very stealthy. As soon as the bell rang for the end of class, I quickly packed my things, fleeing in panic to hide far away, just wanting to be as far from Julian as possible. Who could have thought, just dodged Julian here, and over there got entangled by Lucas because of the mixer event before. At this moment, Lucas pulled me to the corner, crying to me: “Chloe, I went to the mixer to find a girlfriend. Now to act with you, they are all saying you are my girlfriend. “I became a savage who can’t find a girlfriend. You have to compensate me.” Hearing him say this, a trace of guilt rose in my heart: “Say it, how to compensate you.” Lucas smiled and said: “Buy me a pair of basketball shoes. I have a basketball game next week, urgently need a pair of good shoes.” I widened my eyes, couldn’t help complaining: “You really open your mouth like a lion.” “Just say yes or no?” “Fine.” Basketball game, there is indeed such a game next Saturday. But I remember, Julian will also participate in this game. The two are competitors. I used to worry about whether to cheer for my boyfriend or my cousin. I even originally planned to buy a pair of basketball shoes to give Julian for the game. But now we broke up. Unexpectedly, going around in circles, it changed to me buying shoes for Lucas. Wednesday afternoon no class, I went to the mall near the school to pick shoes, taking pictures of the shelves, messaging Lucas asking what kind he liked. Just then, suddenly bumped into familiar figures. It was Bella and her best friend Lily. Bella held a cup of coffee, seemed to have discovered my existence too, glancing at me from time to time. Every time touching me, panicked and moved away, followed by a burst of suppressed laughter. Lily deliberately mentioned: “Bella, why are you browsing the men’s basketball shoes section?” Bella blushed: “On the day of the mixer, I drew the Dare to get a room with the opposite sex. He bailed me out, of course I have to thank him. “This game, I want to give him a pair of shoes to thank him.” The bullet comments were a bit confused: [But didn’t the male lead chase the supporting female lead that day? Didn’t bail the female lead out at all.] [Don’t mention it. I get angry mentioning this. How can this supporting female lead be so trouble-making, directly making my sweet plot of male and female leads gone. Deserves to be violated by that bald uncle in the future.] Lily looked at the pair of shoes Bella chose, a bit worried: “These shoes are very expensive, do you have enough living expenses?” Bella blushed: “It’s okay, I have a living expense card, given to me by Julian’s father. He seems to like me interacting with Julian very much.” When saying this, she looked at me intentionally or unintentionally. I ignored her, taking the shoes straight to the checkout counter to pay. Just about to pay, Bella suddenly cut in line blocking in front of me, saying: “Checkout.” She flipped her hair, elegantly took out that card from her bag and gave it to the cashier. Lily asked her curiously: “How much money is in here?” Bella smiled shyly: “Ten times more than the living expenses of ordinary college students.” Lily showed envy: “The Jiang family spoils you too much, probably treating you as Julian’s fiancée.” But at this moment, the cashier suddenly looked troubled. “Miss, this card of yours has been frozen. Did you make a mistake?” Bella’s face changed immediately. “Impossible, absolutely this card. “Hurry up and checkout, or I’ll complain about you!” The cashier also frowned: “Miss, this card of yours has indeed been frozen and cannot be used. In this case, let the customer behind pay first.” I walked up, quickly paid for what I bought. Bella froze for a moment, looking at me with eyes full of hostility. Gritting her teeth, ruthlessly took out her own money to buy the shoes. Coming out of the mall, she grabbed my hand: “Chloe Song (Original text uses Song Qinghuan, adapting to Chloe Song or keeping Chloe Vance if consistency needed. Let’s stick to Chloe), who are these shoes for? Not for Julian, right?” A wave of disgust surged in my heart. I pulled my hand back hard, coldly saying: “Who I buy for, what does it have to do with you.” The smile on Bella’s face disappeared instantly, replaced by a face of arrogance and warning: “I warn you, don’t pester Julian anymore.” As soon as the words fell, she suddenly raised her hand and poured the still hot coffee in her hand straight onto my newly bought shoes. The dark brown liquid spread wantonly, quickly soaking the white shoe upper. The originally brand new shoes instantly became miserable. Then, Bella opened her mouth in feigned surprise: “Sorry, hand slipped didn’t hold steady, didn’t mean to. “But anyway you broke up with Julian, don’t send shoes to be annoying. He will definitely dislike them being dirty and won’t accept them. I’m helping you lest you lose face then.” Finished speaking, she proudly pulled Lily preparing to leave. Anger “whoosh” shot up to my heart. I couldn’t suppress it anymore, grabbed her wrist hard, word by word: “A-pol-o-gize-to-me.” She was hurt by me, eye rims instantly red: “Why should I apologize, I wasn’t intentional.” I didn’t want to talk nonsense with her, directly grabbed the remaining half cup of coffee in her hand, pouring it all on her newly bought shoes. Bella screamed: “Chloe, you are too much!” Her voice was too loud, instantly attracting the attention of passersby. She red-eyed, as if suffering a huge grievance, pointing at me starting to accuse loudly: “You already got a room with another man, stop maintaining connection with Julian okay? “Julian likes me, can’t you see? You still buy him shoes, aren’t you disgusting?” She accused me tearfully. Passersby cast condemning looks at me, pointing fingers. Just then, a black Rolls-Royce stopped. The back seat door was respectfully opened by the driver. A young man in a black trench coat stepped down, radiating an innate nobility. The young man had superior bone structure, a pair of cold phoenix eyes with faint alienation. Even more handsome than the current top traffic stars. I opened my eyes slightly. It was Julian.

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My sister is the vicious supporting female lead. My brother is the crazy villain. I am the silly sweet girl raised by them single-handedly. At a party, my sister was leading her mean girls squad to tear apart the female lead. Carrying my backpack, I barged into the hall. I slapped my failed math test paper into her arms: “Sis, the teacher wants me to call you to school.” The malicious smile on my sister’s face froze. Holding my test paper, she broke down: “This is the ninth time this month you’ve been called to bring a parent!” At a business negotiation, my brother had wolfish ambitions. He was about to sign an overlord contract to swallow the male lead’s industry. I pushed open the door of the lounge, handing a game console to my brother. Ignoring the tense atmosphere in the entire conference room, I said: “I can’t pass this level again. Brother, beat this level for me first.” My brother picked me up with one hand onto his lap, sighing helplessly while holding me: “Baby, this game is not suitable for you.” He said: “Brother will acquire a new game company tomorrow, specifically to make games for you to play.” 1 Since I became conscious. I knew I lived in a world of masochistic love centered around a hero and heroine. But unfortunately. I wasn’t born well. Less than half a year after I was born. My parents both died tragically. I was raised by my brother and sister. When I was ten and learned to read. I realized that the sister who went crazy every day helping me with homework. Was the primary vicious supporting female lead in this world. And the brother who indulged and pampered me without a bottom line. Was the biggest villain boss in this world. 2 The hero and heroine are the center of the world. Anyone who opposes the hero and heroine will definitely not have a good end. My 10th birthday was celebrated with my brother and sister. When making a birthday wish. I looked at the gentle and beautiful sister on the left, and the young and handsome brother on the right. They surrounded me holding a cake. In their eyes, there was only me. No matter how vicious and cruel my brother and sister were outside. But in front of me, they were the people who loved me the most in this world. —I didn’t want them to meet their destined tragic ending. I wanted to do my best. To save them. 3 But I am really stupid. It seemed that Mom and Dad gave all the IQ to my brother and sister. At a young age, my brother created his own business empire. Solved the family’s economic problems. And provided us with a prosperous life. My sister is especially good at winning people over. She has a beautiful and bright face. From childhood to adulthood, suitors have been endless, surrounded by men and women chasing after her. But unfortunately. My brother fell for the heroine who didn’t belong to him. My sister fell for the hero who didn’t belong to her. 4 I sat in the passenger seat of my sister’s supercar, resting my face on my hand and sighing. My sister was driving and even reached over to ruffle my hair messily. “What’s wrong again? Didn’t understand math class again?” I turned helplessly to look at my sister: “Ethan Chen isn’t as handsome as brother, nor as rich as you. What exactly do you see in him?” Ethan Chen is the destined hero of this world. My sister heard me mention his name. Raised an eyebrow slightly, pinched my cheek: “Actually worrying about my business?” She said: “Take care of your own studies first.” “How many times have I gone to parent-teacher meetings for you, lost face so many times, and been criticized by your teachers so many times.” 5 Before she finished speaking, she didn’t even give me a chance to protest. Directly turned the car around: “I have something to do tonight, can’t accompany you to do homework.” She said: “I’ll send you to brother’s company.” I lowered my eyes and hugged my backpack tightly. —I knew what she was going to do tonight. She has many bad friends, and easily knew the heroine’s movements as soon as she returned to the country. The white moonlight heroine returned. My sister is going to give someone a display of authority tonight. I propped my chin and sighed heavily again. The supercar made a smooth U-turn and stopped downstairs at my brother’s company. 6 My sister got out of the car and opened the passenger door. Seeing me sitting motionless in the passenger seat, she bent over and smiled at me. “What are you dazing for?” She scratched my chin. Pulled my hand to get me out of the car, and put the backpack on my back. “Let’s go, I’ll walk you upstairs.” She held my shoulder. I paused, saying I could find the way myself. “You go,” I looked up at the red strap long dress on my sister. She is so beautiful, why did she fall for Ethan Chen. My sister was indeed anxious. Picking me up from school and sending me here, it was already dusk. She straightened my wrinkled collar again. Instructed worriedly: “Then I’m leaving. Go upstairs quickly to find brother, let him order food for you.” I hummed a yes, standing in place watching her look back three times every step until she finally drove away. As soon as her car drove out of the end of this road. I immediately hailed a taxi and told the driver to follow the car in front. 7 When the taxi drove me away from downstairs of the company. Through the window, I actually saw my brother lazily carrying a suit jacket, coming out from the entrance. Behind him followed several assistants in suits running. Assistants bowed and scraped behind him. And my brother’s face was cold and severe, eyebrows sharp. Naturally had an aura that kept strangers away. He was really sensitive, perhaps sensing my scrutinizing gaze. Actually looked up towards me. I immediately lowered my upper body, hiding under the window. At the same time, the phone vibrated lightly in my arms. It was a message from my brother: Baby, where are you guys? Followed by another one: What do you want to eat tonight. Seems my sister told him in advance about sending me over. I turned off the phone, pretended not to see. Now, I have to find my sister first. 8 My sister learned driving from my brother firsthand. At 17 or 18, my brother was a regular on the racing track. When they didn’t carry me, they drove with a reckless madness. So even if I urged the taxi driver to chase closely. Was easily thrown off by my sister’s supercar. When I arrived at the star-rated hotel in the city center, the lights inside were bright, it had already started. The security guard at the door stopped me outside. Said I didn’t have an invitation and wouldn’t let me in. I was afraid my sister was already bullying the heroine inside. Really no way out. I could only bring out my brother. Fortunately, my brother often instilled in me the domineering concept that I could walk sideways in the city. Fortunately, my brother also had shares in this hotel. After bringing out my brother, the manager came out specially. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he welcomed me respectfully. But I really had no leisure to deal with him. Carrying my backpack into the hall, I started to stand on tiptoe looking for my sister. No way, even for height, I didn’t inherit my parents’ genes. My brother’s height approaches 6’3″, my sister was already 5’9″ when she just became an adult. And I, until now am not even 5’5″.

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1 After five years of battling depression, I finally felt like a normal person again. I could talk, laugh, and eat without being pushed. My husband and I were even expecting our second child. But at our New Year’s Eve party, Vincent’s god-sister, Bella, got drunk and started talking. “It was around five years ago,” she slurred, her eyes reckless. “I’d just had my heart broken, so I went for a joyride while the traffic cams were down.” “You won’t believe it. The moment I sped up, a cat flew out of nowhere and hit my bumper. It let out a yelp and vanished.” She gave a slight, disgusted smile. “The little thing scared me and ruined my car’s paint film. You really have to be careful.” “Don’t end up like my poor godmother, tangled in bad luck. It’s sickening just thinking about it.” Bella spoke as if sharing a trivial, irritating story. Everyone around her laughed and nodded, some even suggesting she visit a church to cleanse any bad luck. I stood frozen in the lively crowd. I saw Bella’s dismissive face, my mother-in-law’s indulgent gaze, and my husband Vincent’s tolerant, helpless smile. My face went pale. It seemed they had all forgotten. My daughter, the one who died in a car accident, was killed five years ago. … As soon as Bella finished her story, my mother-in-law playfully chided her for dredging up such an old, unpleasant memory. My husband, Vincent, just shook his head, his eyes holding a silent, fond tolerance for her antics. Watching the three of them, completely unfazed, my mind started to roar. A tidal wave of absurdity washed over me. In Bella’s careless story, every detail was a perfect match. A speeding car, a hit-and-run, a street where the surveillance cameras were down for maintenance, an autopsy report that determined the death was instantaneous. Slowly, horrifically, the pieces aligned with the facts I had uncovered in the week after finding my daughter’s body in a cold, filthy drainage ditch—a week I had spent sleepless, on the verge of a complete breakdown, hunting for answers. The impact of her words was too much. A wave of nausea and grief rose in my throat, and I doubled over, dry heaving. The room fell into an awkward silence. My mother-in-law’s face soured. “Honestly, what terrible timing for morning sickness,” she muttered under her breath. “Who is she putting on a show for?” I was dizzy from retching, but I couldn’t spare a thought for her cruel words. I grabbed onto Vincent’s arm as he came to steady me, my grip like a vice. I stared into his eyes. I saw a flicker of pity for my physical distress, mixed with a hint of impatience he couldn’t quite hide. I saw his weary affection for Bella. But I saw nothing of the heartbroken father whose child had been stolen from him. I refused to believe it. He had to have heard the chilling familiarity in Bella’s story. But he was so calm. So placid. As if he had heard it a thousand times before. As if he already knew the truth. A terrifying realization began to crystallize in my mind, and my heart turned to ice. “Vincent.” I clung to his sleeve with all my strength, my world shattering in my eyes. “The street Bella was talking about… the one where she was speeding. Was it the back alley behind the preschool?” The pity on Vincent’s face vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. Bella’s reaction was even more extreme. She knocked over her chair with a loud bang, her expression shifting from contempt to alarm. Realizing how strange her reaction looked, she quickly masked her panic, forcing a shaky smile. “Nora, you must have misheard me. I never said which street it was…” I pushed myself upright, my voice feeling distant, ethereal, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Five years ago. The street where all the cameras were down for repair. The scene of a hit-and-run with no culprit.” “The tiny fragment of purple paint film found in my daughter’s bloodstream during the autopsy.” “Do you really think,” I whispered, “you need to say which street it was?” Every word was a memory steeped in blood. Every detail pushed me closer to the edge. The forced smile on Bella’s face finally cracked, and a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. A moment later, as if remembering something crucial, she shrieked, “No! You’re lying! You went crazy after she died, the medication made you forget everything about her! You’re just trying to frame me!” Her words were a sledgehammer, pulverizing what was left of my heart. I never thought… I was afraid that Vincent, a top-tier psychologist, would feel like a failure for being unable to cure my depression. So I told him a kind lie. I told him the medication had clouded my memory, that I couldn’t remember the details of our daughter’s death. I never imagined that my compassion would be twisted into a weapon they would use to stab me in public. In that instant, Vincent finally understood. I had never forgotten. Not for a single second. He raised a hesitant hand, trying to wipe the tears from my cheeks. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air. He struggled to maintain his composure, his voice a low, placating murmur. “Nora, don’t get worked up. It’s just a hallucination from the medication, that’s all. Bella was just telling a made-up story…” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me, tears streaming down my face. I pointed to my stomach. “Vincent, why do you think I dared to get pregnant again?” “I haven’t been on medication for a long time. I’m perfectly lucid. And I’m not hallucinating.” I backed away, step by step, my eyes burning, the taste of bile rising in my throat. “I’m calling the police.” I turned to leave, but a sharp sting pierced my arm. In the last moment before I lost consciousness, I saw Vincent holding an empty syringe. He caught my limp body, his eyes filled with a wretched mix of guilt and pity. “Nora, why couldn’t you just listen? Why did you throw away your medicine? You weren’t supposed to remember.” When I came to, I was lying in our bedroom, my body aching. A sick, powerless feeling washed over me, the aftereffect of the powerful sedative. Vincent stood by the window, crushing a cigarette pack in his hand. I watched him in silence, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. Finally, I heard my own hoarse voice. “Why? Vincent, you knew how much I loved her!” “Why did you hide this from me for five years? Why are you protecting a murderer?” Vincent flinched. He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes filled with a deep, conflicted pain. But his grip tightened, harder and harder, as if he meant to crush my bones. “Nora, since you already know, then I am sorry.” “But five years ago, what happened to Bella… she was so terrified she ran a fever for a week straight. She almost died. She’s only just now starting to put her life back together.” “I can’t let you destroy her over something that’s already in the past.” “Whatever you want as compensation, I’ll give it to you.” Compensation? My daughter’s bright, vibrant life was worth nothing more than “compensation”? I stared at him in disbelief, then shoved him away with all my might. My throat was so raw it felt like it was bleeding. “What do I want? I want Bella to pay for what she did! Blood for blood!” A sharp crack echoed in the room. A searing pain exploded across my cheek. He had slapped me. Vincent froze, a look of panic in his eyes. He stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, Nora, I… I didn’t mean to.” That single, reflexive slap killed the last glimmer of hope in my heart. Tears streamed down my face as I trembled. “Vincent, Lily was your daughter too.” “She was only three years old!” “It was her birthday. You promised you’d pick her up from school to celebrate. That’s why she was waiting for you by the back gate.” “If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have been there. If it wasn’t for Bella’s joyride, she wouldn’t be dead.” Vincent shuddered, his face turning ashen. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I looked at him, feeling dazed. I couldn’t understand how the man who once loved us more than life itself, the man who promised to raise our daughter like a princess, had become this monster. How could he so casually dismiss five years of my unending agony with the offer of “compensation”? How could he hide the truth from me, letting her killer parade around in front of me, bold and arrogant? After a long silence, I closed my eyes, forcing down the turmoil inside me. “You want to compensate me?” “The only thing I want is to see Bella in prison.” The silence stretched on before Vincent’s voice came back, muffled and distant. “Fine. I promise.” After hearing his promise, the last of my strength gave out. The sedatives finally won. As my heavy eyelids closed, the world finally went quiet. The next time I opened them, I was staring at a stark, white ceiling. A familiar dread coiled in my stomach. I was back in the psychiatric hospital where I had spent four years of my life. Vincent sat by my bed, his expression gentle. “I’m sorry, Nora. You need to stay here for a while.” “I absolutely cannot let you hurt Bella.” It hit me then. He had chosen her over me. Again. Despair engulfed me, and I felt my sanity fraying. “Vincent, you’re harboring a murderer! How can you live with yourself? What about our daughter?!” He pressed his lips together, his expression unmoving. I became a hysterical madwoman. I grabbed the fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged at him. He didn’t even try to stop me. He let the blade sink into his chest. “Nora,” he gasped, blood blooming on his white shirt. “Does this make you feel better?” Nurses rushed in, their faces masks of terror. “Get her under control! The patient is having a violent episode! If anything happens to Mr. Hayes, we’re all finished!” “Mrs. Hayes, it was your fault the child died, you were the one who didn’t pick her up on time! How can you be so selfish as to blame someone else?” The nurses’ words were like needles, their scornful looks piercing me. “Enough!” Vincent roared, his gaze sweeping over them. “Mrs. Hayes can do whatever she wants! It’s not your place to comment! Get out!” But I shoved him away. “Don’t you dare pretend to defend me!” “If you’re so determined to protect Bella, then I’ll call the police myself! I’ll get justice for Lily!” I scrambled out of bed and ran for the door. The next thing I knew, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head, and the world went dark. When I woke up, my head was splitting. This time, my arms and legs were strapped down, binding me to the bed. Bella was sitting in a chair beside me. Seeing me awake, she smiled and tapped my cheek with a file folder. “You’re awake, Nora. You gave us all quite a scare. Let me read you your diagnosis.” She read the contents of the file, word for word, watching with satisfaction as the color drained from my face. “Did you hear that? ‘Diagnosis: Severe Psychotic Disorder.’ You, Nora, are now officially a crazy person, driven mad by the death of your daughter.” “Without a certificate of sanity, I’m afraid you’ll be living here for the rest of your life.” “You can thank Vincent’s soft heart. All I had to do was cry a little, and he promised he would take care of it.” Her triumphant words were like a thunderclap. “Vincent?” To protect Bella, he had fabricated a medical record and personally imprisoned me in a mental institution? I almost coughed up blood. “Why?” I rasped. “Why did you have to kill my daughter and destroy my life?” “I destroyed your life? Ha!” Bella burst out laughing, then her face contorted with rage. She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. “It was you and that little bitch who ruined my life!” “Vincent and I were supposed to be together! We were childhood sweethearts! We promised we wouldn’t date anyone else, that we’d get together on my twentieth birthday!” “So why did he have to marry you? Why did that little brat have to look so much like him?” Her grip tightened, and I choked, my face turning purple. Seeing my pain only seemed to delight her more. Her sharp words drilled into my ears. “I hated you both! I couldn’t stand seeing you so happy all the time!” “I picked that day, her birthday, to confess my love to Vincent and tell him to divorce you. But he turned me down!” “He said he had to go home to celebrate with his precious daughter.” “And you, you didn’t pick her up on time that day. I bet you didn’t even know she snuck out the back gate, did you?” “She even smiled at me, thinking I would take her home. Ha! What a shame my car was so… out of control.” “She didn’t last long. Fell right into the ditch. Slowly stopped breathing. She got so dirty, so smelly.” “It was so tragic. As she was dying, she was crying for her mommy to come save her.” “Nora, oh, Nora. It’s all your fault for stealing Vincent from me. The person who really killed your daughter… was you!” I finally broke, spitting up a mouthful of blood and dissolving into wracking sobs. Bella leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “By the way, the night your daughter died, Vincent didn’t come home, did he?” “You didn’t really think he was out looking for evidence, did you?” The words hit me like a physical blow. “He said… he was checking for any security cameras they might have missed…” Seeing my expression crumble, Bella laughed and clapped her hands. “You are so naive. Your loving husband spent the entire night holding me, comforting me.” “I just told him how scared I was, and he stayed by my side all night, telling me it wasn’t my fault.” My heart, which I thought had gone numb with pain, was ripped open once more. Two scalding tears of pure agony burned tracks down my skin. I remembered that day. He had seemed more distraught than anyone, rushing to the morgue like a man possessed, arranging for my care after I collapsed, calling everyone he knew. He was a ghost of himself. And now I knew. He was in a rush… to comfort his daughter’s murderer. The tears finally fell, hot and hopeless. The hatred boiling inside me threatened to drown me. Sensing the madness in my eyes, Bella just smiled. A moment later, a nurse walked in with a syringe. “Look at me, forgetting your treatment. Don’t worry. After this shot, you won’t remember any of the pain.” My pupils constricted. I thrashed against the restraints, screaming for help. The commotion brought Vincent to the door. He froze when he saw my desperate, broken face. “Bella, maybe we should just… leave her be. Nora has always been terrified of needles. Let her calm down on her own.” A flash of jealousy crossed Bella’s eyes, but her expression was all sweet concern. “Oh, I was just so worried. I only wanted to help her get some rest.” She moved to undo my restraints, reaching out to help me up. But in the next instant, a fruit knife, the one from before, clattered to the floor from the side of my bed. A bloodcurdling scream filled the room. Bella clutched her hand, which was now bleeding profusely. “Nora! I was just trying to let you go! Why would you try to kill me?” Vincent rushed to her side, his eyes blazing with fury as he examined her wounded arm. “Nora! What the hell are you doing? Bella came here to apologize, and you try to murder her?” Before I could defend myself, he snatched the syringe and plunged it into my arm. Ice flooded my veins. I remembered a time when I was sick, scared of a simple injection, and he had held me in his arms, comforting me, his own eyes welling up with tears just from seeing me in pain. Now, for Bella, he was the one driving the needle into my flesh. He watched me convulse in agony, then turned and left with the nurse, his jaw clenched. Bella remained by my bed, a twisted smile on her face. “I forgot to mention,” she purred. “There’s a little something extra in that shot. Enjoy.” My body began to tremble violently, and I fell to the floor. Hallucinations started. My daughter, mangled and bloody, stood before me, her voice filled with resentment, blaming me for not saving her. I sobbed, overcome with guilt and self-loathing, apologizing to her over and over. I found the fruit knife again and again, dragging it across my skin, seeking punishment. I don’t know how long I lived like that. Trapped in a world of ghosts and madness, with only the daily sting of the needle to mark the passage of time. … Day after day, I sank deeper into the silence, the hallucinations, the eternal, suffocating self-hatred. Until one night, I woke from a nightmare. Through the silence, I heard a soft tapping at the door. I saw my daughter’s small form standing in the doorway, beckoning to me. I crawled towards her, towards the darkness, a smile of relief spreading across my face. Ten minutes later, a fire broke out in a room at the city’s psychiatric hospital. It lit up the entire night sky.

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Before I died, my parents cursed me every day. My mother blamed me for stalling her career. “If I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant with you, I would have been Chief of Surgery years ago.” My father blamed me for his business failures. “Ever since the day you were born, every investment I touch turns to ash. You are a jinx.” They only loved my older sister, Sarah. They said she was just like them—studious, quiet, and refined. I, on the other hand, was like an unevolved primate in their eyes—always running wild, getting into fights, and embarrassing the family. “What a waste of space,” they would often sigh. “If we had just aborted her, this family would be perfect.” Eventually, they got their wish. I died. 1 It was 3:00 AM. I had exhausted every ounce of my strength, but I finally secured the encryption key needed to take down the cartel. But the price was my cover. My identity as a bartender at the club was blown. Fortunately, I managed to transmit the data just in time. Before my SWAT team could breach the building, the cartel enforcers inflicted every torture imaginable on me. They sawed off my limbs. They flayed my skin strip by strip, keeping me just on the edge of consciousness so I would feel everything. I ground my teeth together to keep from screaming until they shattered in my mouth. Finally, the sirens wailed. When the team secured the room, my Captain—a stoic giant of a man—rushed in. He scooped up what was left of my torso and wept openly. “Chloe, I’m sorry. We were too late.” “Don’t sleep, Chloe. Hold on. The medics can fix this,” he begged, his voice breaking. I forced my bloodied eyes open. “Cap…” I whispered. “Donate my body. Anything that’s left… give it to someone who needs it.” “And… don’t tell my parents I died.” With those words, I managed a smile. I closed my eyes, satisfied. I was rushed to the downtown Trauma Center. But the moment the gurney hit the hospital doors, my heart stopped for good. Following my dying wish, the hospital immediately prepped for organ harvesting. My corneas were removed to be transplanted into a patient who had been on the waiting list for months. Without them, she would be permanently blind. The patient was my sister, Sarah. The lead surgeon was my mother. She stood over my body with her team, bowing her head in a moment of silence for the donor. Then, she coolly pulled back the sterile sheet to inspect the donor. Even though she was a veteran doctor who had seen countless traumas, she gasped when she saw what was left of me. “She was only twenty-four,” she whispered behind her mask. “So young.” “This poor girl went through hell. If her parents saw her like this, it would kill them.” I floated above the operating table, watching her. I wanted to ask, “Mom, if you knew this was me—your own daughter—would you still feel sorry?” But I was dead. I couldn’t ask. 2 The surgery was a success. My parents and Sarah were beaming with joy. “I heard the donor was about Sarah’s age,” Dad said. “What a noble kid.” Mom nodded. “Yes. Brought in by the police. Likely a line-of-duty death.” “A tragedy. But her parents must be so proud.” “I wish we knew who she was,” they sighed. “We’d visit her grave to say thank you.” Then, Mom’s face darkened. “That Chloe… she has no heart. Today was Sarah’s big surgery, and she didn’t even bother to show up.” “She’s probably too busy with that shady job of hers. She didn’t even call.” Dad sneered. “Ideally, we’d never hear from that embarrassment again.” Sarah scoffed from her bed. “Who needs her? I hope she stays away forever.” Just then, their phones buzzed. “Dr. Miller? The board has voted. You are the new Chief of Surgery.” It was the Hospital Administrator. It was the promotion Mom had chased for years. Then Dad’s phone rang. “Sir, the city contract just came through. The company is saved.” They hugged Sarah, ecstatic. “Sarah, you are our lucky charm! The moment your surgery succeeded, everything turned around!” The small VIP room was filled with laughter and celebration. Meanwhile, in a quiet room at the precinct, there was only the sound of stifled sobbing. My Captain and my squad were holding a secret memorial for me. Because the cartel still had active members, they couldn’t risk exposing my family by making my death public. The Captain held my urn, his shoulders shaking. “My girl… my brave girl…” He had recruited me. He was more of a father to me than my biological one. The Police Chief patted his shoulder. “She saved this city. We will make sure her family is taken care of.” 3 “Has anyone heard from Chloe? She hasn’t called in days. She isn’t answering.” That evening, Grandma asked the moment my parents walked in the door. She sat in her wheelchair, looking worried. My parents’ smiles vanished instantly. “Why do you always bring up that loser?” Dad snapped. Grandma went silent and turned her wheelchair toward her room. I followed her spirit, trying to push the chair, but my hands passed through it. “Meow!” A large black shadow pounced at me. It was Midnight, the stray cat I had rescued. I tried to catch him, but he fell through my arms and hit the floor. He got up, confused, and rubbed against my invisible legs, purring. Grandma watched him with tears in her eyes. “Do you miss Chloe too, Midnight?” “That silly girl… tomorrow is her birthday. I bet she forgot.” Grandma pulled a pair of red socks and a red envelope from her drawer. She was superstitious about birthdays—she believed wearing red brought protection. I had forgotten. Tomorrow was my twenty-fourth birthday. Only Grandma remembered. In the living room, my parents were chatting. “Sarah can finally see. We need to throw a huge party once she recovers.” Mom smiled, then frowned. “Is tomorrow a special date? I feel like I’m forgetting something.” Dad shrugged. “Nothing special. You’re just tired.” “Go to sleep. Sarah is healed, you’re the Chief, the business is booming. Our life is finally perfect.” Suddenly, a crash came from Grandma’s room. Midnight was going crazy, tearing the red socks to shreds. “Midnight! Stop! Those are for Chloe!” Grandma screamed. My parents rushed in. 4 Seeing the mess, Dad exploded. “That damn cat! I told you to get rid of it! It’s nothing but trouble, just like Chloe!” He kicked at Midnight, who hissed and scrambled under the bed. Mom looked at the ruined socks with disdain. “Mom, I buy you expensive clothes. Why are you hoarding these cheap red socks? Do you want people to think I abuse you?” Grandma clutched the tattered socks. “These weren’t for me. They were for Chloe’s birthday.” “Red brings good luck. She needs protection.” My parents froze. “Her birthday? When is that?” Grandma’s grief turned to rage. “You gave birth to her! How do you not know her birthday? What kind of parents are you?” Dad stiffened. “My business tanked the day she was born. Why should I celebrate that?” Mom added, “If I hadn’t been pregnant with her, I would have been Chief ten years ago.” “That was your choice!” Grandma yelled. “Did Chloe ask to be born?” Dad looked at Grandma’s wheelchair coldly. “Are you going senile, Mom? Why do you defend that jinx? If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be paralyzed.” Grandma broke down sobbing. “It wasn’t Chloe who paralyzed me! It was your precious Sarah!” My parents were stunned. Years ago, on a freezing winter night, seven-year-old Sarah threw a tantrum because she wanted ice cream. My parents weren’t home. Sarah threatened to run away if she didn’t get it. Grandma went out to buy it to keep her safe. On the way back, she was mugged and beaten by a junkie. She never walked again.

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My parents were junkies. Until I was ten, I didn’t have a birth certificate, never stepped foot in a kindergarten, and existed like a ghost in the system. When Jax pressed the muzzle of his gun against my forehead, I stared blankly and offered him the moldy piece of bread in my hand. “This is all I have left. Do you want it?” He slapped the bread away, agitated, and hoisted me up by my collar. “Where are your parents? They owe me money.” I shook my head, lost, and instinctively tugged at the hem of his jacket. “I’m hungry. Can you let me eat something before you beat me?” Jax froze. The tension left his shoulders. He threatened that if my parents didn’t pay up, he’d chop me up and sell me for parts. But then he turned around, walked into the kitchen, and fried me two eggs. I was ten. He was twenty-three. Because of those eggs, I clung to Jax for the rest of my life. 1 Jax had paced outside the door for thirty minutes before kicking it in, gun drawn. The house reeked—a cocktail of rotting food, an overflowing toilet, and damp mildew. He tried to take a deep breath to acclimate, but the physiological urge to gag made him curse loudly. I was chained in the basement. Through the cracks in the rotting floorboards above, I watched him ransack the place. His final loot—a single dime found under a cushion—broke him. He stomped his foot in rage, slipping on a patch of unknown sludge. Worse, the floorboard snapped. He fell through the ceiling, landing right in front of me in the basement. When our eyes met, Jax screamed. After realizing the creature with matted hair was a human child, he kicked me. “Don’t play ghost and scare people, dammit!” I curled into a ball, my whimper silent and controlled. Experience taught me that silence meant fewer beatings. “Where are your parents? Tell them to get their asses out here. Hiding won’t clear their debt.” I shook my head silently. I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t remember the last time they came home. The bread I had been saving was growing a forest of black mold. “Speak!” Jax shoved the gun barrel against my brow. “Only this left. Do you want it?” I held up the green-black lump of bread. Jax stared at it, stunned, then slapped it out of my hand. “I want money! I want my cash! What the hell is that?” He grabbed me by the collar, lifting my feet off the ground. I finally saw his face clearly. Clean-shaven, pale. He smelled good, like expensive soap. There was a small mole on his Adam’s apple. “I’m hungry. Can I eat before you kill me? I promise I won’t cry. I’ll be good.” My stomach cramped with hunger, my hand gripping his shirt. A look of sheer disbelief flashed through Jax’s eyes. He frowned. “Are you crazy?” He dropped me, turned, and stomped up the rickety stairs. I assumed he found nothing to eat. Because I heard him swearing as he slammed the front door and left. 2 I don’t know if I fainted or just fell asleep. I woke up to Jax squatting in front of me, holding a plate of golden fried eggs. He poked my cheek. “You dead? I didn’t even hit you that hard.” The smell hit my nose, and I turned feral. I snatched the plate and shoveled the eggs into my mouth with dirty hands. “Slow down, kid. You’re making me think I’m Gordon Ramsay.” Actually, the eggs were way too salty. But to me, they were a Michelin-star meal. That was when Jax noticed the chain on my ankle. My world was a radius of three meters. I ate, slept, and used a bucket within that circle. “Are you actually their kid? Or did they kidnap you?” Jax looked horrified. I didn’t quite understand “kidnap,” but I knew I belonged to them. When I nodded, Jax went into a rage, smashing old furniture against the basement walls. “Those scumbags! Treating their own kid like a dog!” Terrified, I knelt on the floor. He looked confused. “What are you doing? Those eggs cost like fifty cents. You don’t need to worship me. It’s weird.” I was confused too. “I’m full. Isn’t it time for the beating?” Jax looked like he wanted to scream. He ground his teeth, ran upstairs, and came back with a rusty ax. I shrank back. My life was always hanging by a thread. Maybe dying was okay. At least I ate eggs. Jax swung the ax high. I closed my eyes, praying it would be quick. Clang! The ax sparked against the chain. Gritting his teeth, he swung again and again until the metal link snapped. I looked up in shock. The man patted my head awkwardly. His eyes held a gentleness I had never seen before. He practically dragged me upstairs. After so long in the dark, the sunlight burned my eyes. 3 Jax fried me another plate of eggs. After I wolfed them down, he looked proud. “If I hadn’t been too broke for culinary school, I’d be a head chef by now.” I nodded furiously. Yes. Chef. I didn’t know what a culinary school was, but agreeing with him felt safe. Jax left again. He came back with scissors, shampoo, and clothes. He dragged me to the yard, drew water from the well, and dumped a bucket of freezing water over me. I shivered violently but didn’t make a sound. My rags disintegrated under his hands. When he saw my body, Jax kicked the bucket over in frustration. “Sh*t. You’re a girl.” I nodded timidly. Jax sighed, took off his jacket, wrapped me in it, and carried me inside. I sat on a chair and watched him boil water on the stove. It was the first hot bath I could remember. Actually, the first bath, period. He scrubbed me with a rough towel, muttering that the pigs in the pen were cleaner than me. When I was clean and dressed in the oversized boy’s clothes he bought, Jax sighed with satisfaction. He hacked at my matted hair with the scissors. He said I looked like a poodle that lost a fight with a lawnmower. Then, he made me work. He said he couldn’t stand the filth. I tried to sweep, but I was so weak I tripped over the broom. He picked me up, set me on a high cabinet, and told me to stay put. Jax dry-heaved while he cleaned. He filled twenty trash bags. He sprayed so much bleach my eyes watered. Finally, he lit a cigarette and collapsed on the couch. He closed his eyes and asked again, “Do you really not know where your parents are?” I shook my head, feeling guilty and ashamed. 4 My parents returned three days later. I heard them screaming at each other from down the block. Jax instantly racked the slide of his pistol. He shoved me into the bedroom and stuffed tissue paper in my ears. He told me he was going to play a game with my parents and that I had to stay quiet. I nodded obediently. For three days, I had food, water, and at night, he let me watch videos on his phone. Even though I didn’t understand the dancing ladies on TikTok, my gray world had color for the first time. He was my god. I trusted him unconditionally. Jax went out and fired a warning shot. I heard my father scream, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a groan. Jax roared, “Where’s my money? You stole the boss’s product and thought you could hide? You got a death wish?” My mother screamed, her voice shrill and manic. “We smoked it all! It’s gone! Please!” Jax: “Money or product. Now.” The voices dropped. Then, the front door slammed open. I heard a child crying. Loudly. Curious, I cracked the door open. It was a beautiful boy, dressed in expensive clothes. “He’s our golden ticket,” my mother said, tying the boy to a table leg. “His dad owns a mining company. He’s loaded.” Jax looked horrified. He kicked my mother away. “I just want my debt paid! I didn’t sign up for a kidnapping felony!” In the chaos, I saw my father stumble up and smash a chair over the back of Jax’s head. I covered my mouth, too scared to scream a warning. 5 My parents were high. They were erratic. Jax was unconscious, bleeding heavily from his head. I squatted next to him, whispering his name. The rich boy was crying and cursing. “You trash! Junkies! Whores! Do you know who my father is?” My mother slapped him. He screamed louder. I waved at him to shut up. My parents had killed people in this house before. But he wouldn’t stop. Jax groaned and opened his eyes, reaching for his gun. My mother pointed her own pistol at the boy’s head. Jax’s eyes went wide. He lunged. “Crazy b*tch! Don’t drag me to hell with you!” The gun went off. The bullet missed the boy’s head but shattered his thigh. My parents were completely gone, lost in drug-induced psychosis. Jax, bleeding and dizzy, wiped his fingerprints off everything he touched. He grabbed his gun and ran out the door. I sat there, numb. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry. But Jax came back. He grabbed my mother’s phone and dialed 911. Disguising his voice, he said, “Drug overdose and kidnapping in progress. Send units.” He grabbed a quilt, wrapped me up, and carried me to the stone bench in the yard. He squatted in front of me. “When the cops come, beg them to take you. Orphanage, foster care, anywhere. Just get out of this house.” He spoke fast, desperate. I nodded mechanically. He rubbed my messy hair, his eyes full of pain. “I hope you have a safe life, kid.” “Promise me. You never saw me. Okay?” He held out his pinky. I hooked it with mine. “Will I see you again?” “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jax pulled his hand away. “Just stay alive.” He ran into the night without looking back. I sat there until the sirens wailed, my feet numb from the cold. The last three days felt like a dream I wasn’t supposed to have.

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