Category: English

When the “Crown Prince” of the city’s elite circle pursued me, he gave me BMWs and luxury villas. My best friend said relying on a man is worse than relying on yourself. I believed her words, decisively rejected the Crown Prince, and returned all those gifts. Heartbroken, the Crown Prince went abroad and died in a conflict zone. As a result, I lived my whole life as an ordinary white-collar worker, working myself to death for a monthly salary of a few thousand dollars. It wasn’t until I fell seriously ill from overwork that my best friend said to me: “You were destined to soar, but who told you to be stupid enough to believe whatever I said? Seeing you living worse than me makes me feel balanced.” As I spat blood in anger, she took the opportunity to pull my oxygen tube, letting me die in the hospital bed. Turns out, her words were never for my own good. After rebirth, looking at the Crown Prince who was about to buy me a luxury villa, I smiled sweetly: “Let’s date!” Refusing money, I was indeed a fool in my past life. As for my best friend, I want her to be insanely jealous but unable to do anything to me. 1 “Gardenia (Zhizhi), do you like this house?” Julian King reached out to open the car door for me, pointing at the European-style villa in front of us, asking with a smile, his eyes full of joy expecting praise. “You want to give it to me?” I raised my head blankly, looking at the vivid Julian in front of me and my own fair and tender hands, realizing with hindsight that I had actually been reborn. Reborn to the time when I hadn’t rejected Julian yet, and he hadn’t gone abroad heartbroken and died in a conflict zone. At this moment, his smile was warm and gentle, like a ray of warm sun. The thing I regretted most in my past life wasn’t rejecting the immense wealth, but regretting letting such a deeply affectionate person die abroad because of my rejection. It could be said he died because of me. I thought more than once, if I hadn’t chosen to reject him back then, he wouldn’t have died young abroad. “Yes, this way you don’t have to worry about being kicked out by the landlord every day. It’s not a loan, I’ll choose to pay in full so you have no worries, okay?” Julian asked me cautiously, afraid I would be angry with him and ignore him. Actually, he didn’t need to be so careful with me. He never owed me anything. Instead, I accepted his kindness again and again but refused to agree to be with him for a long time. Just because my best friend, Chloe Xu, would brainwash me under the banner of being for my own good every time Julian showed kindness to me. “A rich young master like Julian can’t be sincere to you.” “Relying on a man is worse than relying on yourself. Reject him! We want to be independent women.” 2 But in fact, I wasn’t cut out to be an independent “big woman” at all. My knowledge and vision were too ordinary. In my past life, after rejecting him, I worked hard and down-to-earth for my career for twenty years. For this, I even chose not to marry, thinking that heaven rewards diligence, and my hard work would definitely pay off. But in the end, before I died, my salary was only five thousand a month, and I worked myself into a body full of ailments. Because there are too many ordinary corporate workers like me, a dime a dozen. I could be replaced at any time. I wasn’t cut out to be a heroine. But it’s different with Julian. He thinks I’m special, he likes me. This villa he casually gave me is worth eight figures. It’s an existence where I couldn’t even afford a toilet inside even if I worked hard all my life. In my last life, I rejected his proposal and turned away, wasting his good intentions. So in my last life, three days later, I was kicked out of my rental because the landlord raised the price temporarily. I simply deserved it. But now, I accepted it generously: “I accept, thank you for your gift, I like it very much. I can finally say goodbye to the landlord’s face that raises prices at any time.” Seeing me accept his gift for the first time, Julian happily called the agent waiting aside: “Come here, bring the contract for her to sign. My secretary will transfer the money to your account in an hour.” So a luxury house worth tens of millions was added to my name, and Julian didn’t feel the pinch at all. During the meal, he told me: “I’m very happy you could accept my kindness. “You know what? The location of this house is particularly good, and your neighbors are all very kind people. This villa really suits you perfectly. Living here in the future, I can work with more peace of mind, not worrying about you being troubled by the landlord at any time. “And you don’t need to have any psychological burden. Its existence is just a kind gift from me. Not a bargaining chip for me to force you to be with me. You don’t need to have any psychological burden.” This villa was actually carefully selected by him. Such a good man, only giving, not asking for return! I must have been blind and blind-hearted in my past life to listen to Chloe’s words and push him away. I only thought Chloe was doing it for my own good at the time, never thinking that Chloe was jealous of me. Her own life was a mess, and she didn’t want me to live a good life either. Actually, if she had good intentions back then, after I got together with Julian and lived a good life, I would definitely have helped her as a best friend. Originally we could have gone up a level together, but she wanted to drag me into the mud with her. At this moment, my hatred for her reached its peak. I can’t wait to see her breakdown. 3 When Julian drove me downstairs to my rental apartment, he looked nervous: “Can I go up and sit for a while? Just drink some water and leave.” Heard that before meeting me, Julian was not good with words and had a bad childhood experience. Maybe because when he was an intern at the grassroots level of our company, I thought he was an ordinary employee and helped him when he was made difficult by other employees, he was very willing to contact me and very active. He is different from those men with many tricks. He said going up to drink water meant just drinking water and leaving. He didn’t have those crooked intestines (bad intentions). He was satisfied just looking at me a few more times. This time I didn’t reject him: “Sure! Just right for you to know the door. If possible, come help me move tomorrow morning! I want to move into the new home you gave me quickly.” Julian didn’t expect me, who was always polite but wary and distant towards him, to make exceptions for him again and again today. The raised corners of his mouth never came down. He followed me upstairs excitedly, chattering: “You agree to let me help you move? What time tomorrow? Is 6 am too early? How about 8 am? Need a moving company? I’ll contact one!” In the past, I would have disliked him being too attentive, but now I find his love-brained look strangely cute. I thought about it and responded to him: “8:30! By then, I should have packed up.” Julian quickly nodded and noted it down. Then he really followed me back to the rental room, drank a cup of warm water and left. I put a little osmanthus honey in that water, hoping he would have a sweet dream tonight. What made me feel very comfortable was that he didn’t show a disgusted expression because my rental room was small throughout the whole process. He said, a girl coming out to strive on her own, being able to have such a small nest shows that I have worked very hard. Quite good at comforting people. 4 After he left, I pretended to call Chloe inadvertently: “Julian said he wanted to give me a villa today, do you think I should accept it?” Chloe, who was still working overtime on Saturday over there, was extremely resentful: “Of course don’t accept it, others will treat you as a gold digger if you do. Reject him! You must reject him fiercely.” I pretended to be ignorant and nodded: “Okay! I originally thought, if you like this villa, I could pass it on to you. Since you think this is more like gold digging, I’d better reject it! A house worth more than ten million.” Chloe, who originally wanted to persuade me to continue rejecting, seemed to be drinking water, and then she choked on the water. After coughing several times, she quickly asked me: “How much did you say? A house worth more than ten million? Could it be a trap? Did he ask you to take a loan? Does decoration still need a large sum of money? That’s a means to manipulate you; he wants to control you with money.” I shook my head: “I went to see the house, in Cloud District, fully furnished. He said he paid in full. If you don’t want it, forget it.” I said, pretending to hang up the phone. Even Chloe, who was bent on persuading me to stay away from Julian, was severely moved when she heard about the villa worth ten million. She shouted loudly to stop me: “Don’t hang up yet! Who said I don’t want it? You are going to be self-improving in the future. Let me do this kind of gold-digging thing! You accept his kindness first, then immediately transfer the house to me. This way you can also maintain your persona of not bowing for money.” But when did I ever want to set up some broken persona of not bowing for money? What is the meaning of living if not to make money? Didn’t she always shout at me not to accept any gifts from Julian before? Why doesn’t she shout at me not to rely on men but rely on myself at this time? Turns out she has always been a double-standard dog. That set of rhetoric before was just to fool me. Just because I was simple and easy to cheat, she wanted to destroy my bright and brilliant future? Really too vicious. How could I be so stupid back then to think she was thinking for me? I was simply stupid to death in my past life. 5 “Gardenia, why aren’t you talking? Are you moved by my act of self-sacrifice? “You don’t need to thank me too much. In the future, whenever Julian says he wants to give you anything, just throw it to me without burden. I’ll bear it for you. Also don’t reject too hard, keep him hooked first.” In front of money, Chloe opened her mind instantly. Originally wanting to persuade me to stay away from Julian, now she hopes I can get more, get for her. Really shameless enough. “But, didn’t you always say to let me reject him before? Let me think about it carefully! I don’t know for a moment whether to listen to what you say now or what you said before.” After finishing, I hung up the phone directly at her most expectant moment. I think without my accurate answer, Chloe should be tossing and turning tonight, unable to sleep no matter what. You know that’s ten million! Ten million that she would find hard to earn in a lifetime no matter how she struggled. If she didn’t get it in the end because of my hesitation, I think she would regret it for life. Sure enough, five minutes later, Chloe took the initiative to call me: “Gardenia, I thought carefully. My previous thoughts were not mature enough. You can actually treat him…” Without waiting for her to finish, I smiled and took the conversation: “You want to say neither riches nor honors can corrupt, neither poverty nor humble condition can swerve, neither threats nor force can subdue? I’ve heard you say this many times. I will consider it seriously. Going to sleep first.” After speaking, I hung up her phone directly, then turned it off, and went to get my beauty sleep. Actually, about half an hour later, Chloe came downstairs to my rental apartment. She shouted downstairs, wanting to see me, wanting to persuade me to accept that villa and give it to her. But I pretended not to hear directly, rolled over and continued sleeping. Anyway, there is access control downstairs, she can only shout downstairs. Without the access password, she can’t come up. And because this building is full of working people, being woken up when falling asleep caused great resentment. Without me stopping her, the middle-aged aunt upstairs was already cursing at Chloe downstairs: “Middle of the night, shouting what? If you don’t leave, I’ll splash water.” The young man downstairs also raised a wine bottle aimed at Chloe downstairs: “If you disturb my gaming again, I’ll smash you.” Scaring Chloe into fleeing with her head in her hands, leaving unwillingly…

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1 My daughter joined a summer swim club, only to have her head held underwater by a classmate, pressed firmly against the powerful drainage vent. When I saw the water turning pink, I dove in, frantic, and pulled her out. But the immense suction had disfigured her face beyond recognition. She coughed up a mouthful of bloody water, and then… she was gone. The girl who led the attack, Tiffany, just sneered, boasting that the law couldn’t touch her. “So what? I couldn’t stand her anyway. Now that she’s dead, no one can compete with me for first place.” Her mother tossed a credit card at my feet with contempt. “There’s fifty thousand dollars on that. That should be enough for your daughter’s worthless life, right?” Consumed by grief and rage, I demanded justice, but my own husband stopped me. “She’s just a child, Lydia. Your daughter is gone, but does that mean another girl has to lose her freedom?” I fought until I was exhausted, but I couldn’t get them punished. In the end, my spirit broken, I stood before my daughter’s grave and swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day I was supposed to drive my daughter to the pool. I turned the car around and took her straight home. But this time, a girl still died at that pool. … In my rush to leave earlier, I had left my daughter’s bag in the locker room. I told her to wait in the car while I ran back in to grab it and warn the pool staff about the dangerous drain. The moment I stepped into the natatorium, I was met with the sound of cruel laughter. “Look at her, she’s like a dead fish! Move! Why aren’t you moving? Hahahaha…” The sound of three girls’ laughter was piercing. The tallest of them, Tiffany, had her foot planted on a splash of blue underwater. The sight of the blue swimsuit—the same color as my daughter’s—and the water faintly tinged with red made my heart seize. If I wasn’t absolutely certain my Sophie was safe in the car, I wouldn’t have been able to bear it. In my past life, Tiffany had targeted my daughter because Sophie had beaten her in academics. She was determined to crush her in extracurriculars, too. But who was this girl? Why was this happening? I pushed the thoughts aside. Saving her was all that mattered. “Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?!” I screamed. Tiffany saw me, raised an eyebrow, and slowly took a step back. “Well, well, look what we have here. The mother hen has come to protect her little chick. Fun’s over, girls.” The other two girls scattered like startled rabbits, avoiding my eyes. Even after they moved, the girl in the water was still held fast by the powerful suction, her face glued to the vent, her limbs drifting limply. This was exactly how it happened to my Sophie. I had jumped in, but the force of the drain was too strong. I couldn’t pull her free. By the time the staff finally shut off the circulation pump, it was too late. My daughter died in my arms. The blue swimsuit, the ponytail, the small frame… I kept telling myself, This isn’t my Sophie. She’s safe in the car. But my hands were shaking uncontrollably. Learning from last time, I yelled at the lifeguard. “What are you standing there for? Can’t you see someone is trapped? Get someone to shut off the pump, now!” The teenager finally snapped out of his stupor and fumbled for his radio. A few minutes later, I lifted the girl’s limp body from the water. Her face was swollen and distorted, her features unrecognizable. She wasn’t breathing. There was no pulse. Tiffany stood off to the side, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Lady, she said she could hold her breath for three minutes. We were just helping her.” “Helping her?” My eyes were bloodshot. I slapped her hard across the face. “You call holding her head against a drainage vent ‘helping’?” Tiffany clutched her cheek, glaring at me. “We were just playing! How was I supposed to know she couldn’t take a joke?” “You hit me! Do you have any idea who my father is? I’ll make sure your whole family regrets this!” Oh, I knew exactly who he was. And that knowledge made me want to tear that indifferent look right off her face. “Playing? You call this playing? This is murder, do you understand?!” One of the other girls, a chubby one, finally seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, her voice trembling. “Tiffany, maybe we should…” “Should what?” Tiffany cut her off. “You were pushing down on her just as hard as I was!” The third girl was already sobbing. “I… I want to go home…” I had no time for them. I laid the girl on the deck and started CPR, shouting at the staff to call for an ambulance. “Call 911! We might still be able to save her!” As I tilted her chin back to give her a breath, I noticed a small, plum-blossom-shaped birthmark behind her ear. Something flickered in my memory. Just then, the swim coach and Tiffany’s mother, Victoria, sauntered in from a side door, the coach exhaling a final puff of smoke. They saw the scene by the pool and their faces paled. “What… What happened here?!” Tiffany immediately adopted an innocent expression and ran to her mother. “Mommy, we were just having a breath-holding contest! She said she could do three minutes, but I guess she couldn’t…” “You foolish girl!” the coach stammered, his face ashen. “I’ve told you a hundred times, no one in the water without my supervision!” “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. But that doesn’t give this lady the right to hit me, does it?” Tiffany pouted, but over her mother’s shoulder, she shot me a triumphant smirk. Victoria saw the red handprint on her daughter’s face and pointed a finger at me. “How dare you lay a hand on my child?” She glanced dismissively at me and the girl on the ground. “This girl clearly wasn’t following the rules, and her parents weren’t watching her. A tragedy, yes, but you can’t blame others for it, can you?” In my last life, the security footage showed Tiffany pushing my daughter into the pool from behind, then the three of them dragging her to the drain and holding her down. I imagined this girl’s fate was no different from my Sophie’s. I knew the agony of losing a child. No matter who this girl was, she was an innocent victim. Saving her was the priority. I refused to waste my breath arguing. My hands never stopped their rhythm as I glanced at the coach. “Coach Miller, you bear some responsibility for this. You need to notify her parents immediately.” The coach fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking. “Right, right… I’ll… I’ll call them right now…” After a few seconds, he looked at the girl’s swollen face. “Her… her face is so… I don’t know which student this is.” I looked up, exasperated. “Check your roster! See who was scheduled for today, who called in sick, and who’s still here. The one left over is…” “No need to check,” Tiffany interrupted. “I know who it is.” She crouched down beside me, staring at the girl’s face. Her voice was quiet, but her words were like needles in my ears. “Isn’t that your Sophie? Ma’am, don’t you even recognize your own daughter?” “You were so frantic before, I thought you knew. Or maybe… you just couldn’t accept the truth?” My eyes widened. So, she thought this was my Sophie. That’s why she did it. Tiffany seemed pleased with my shocked expression. Seeing that I hadn’t stopped compressions, she continued. “You can stop trying. Haven’t you noticed she hasn’t responded after twenty minutes of this?” “From the time she went under to the time you pulled her out, more than ten minutes had passed. The golden window for rescue closed long ago.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. All the strength drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the tiles, trembling. Was I too late again? In my past life, I couldn’t save my own daughter. Now, I had failed to save this girl, too. I fixed my gaze on Tiffany. “Why would you do this? Aren’t you afraid of the consequences?!” “Ooh, I’m so scared,” she said, mockingly patting her chest. “What consequences? The law?” “I’m only eleven. And anyone under fourteen can’t be held criminally responsible, you know.” She was so close I could smell the strawberry shampoo in her hair. That sentence, that scent, had haunted my nightmares in my previous life. Looking at her face, a grotesque mixture of childish innocence and pure malice, I could no longer contain the rage that had been building for two lifetimes. I grabbed her by the hair and started dragging her toward the pool. “You vicious little monster, today I’m going to let you taste—” Victoria slammed her purse into the side of my head. The metal charm on it sliced a long, bloody gash across my forehead. As I let go, she pulled Tiffany behind her. “Are you insane?!” “What’s done is done! Why are you taking it out on a child? My daughter is just a little girl, what does she know about consequences? It was an accident!” “An accident?” I felt the blood rush to my head. “Go check the security footage yourself! Three girls holding a child’s head against a drain, and you call that an accident?!” Victoria glanced at her guilty-looking daughter, then calmly pulled a card from her wallet. “What do you want, then? Justice? Let me tell you something. In this world, justice depends on who you are and what you can pay.” She stepped forward, the card almost touching my nose. “Do you know who my daughter is? She’s the heiress to the Wagner Corporation!” “And your daughter? The child of a working-class family. She’s dead. So what? You expect the Wagner heiress to pay with her life?” She flicked the card at my face. “There’s fifty thousand on here. Pin is six eights. Take the money, shut your mouth, and give your daughter a nice funeral.” “But if you say one word of this to anyone, if you dare call the police… I guarantee you and your husband won’t even find work sweeping streets in this city.” Tiffany peeked out from behind her mother and made a face at me. There was no fear in her expression, only smug satisfaction. The coach, not wanting any more trouble, tried to mediate. “Mrs. Miller, look, this was clearly an accident. Since they’re offering to settle, maybe everyone can just compromise?” Compromise? I looked down at the bank card on the floor, then at the cold, lifeless body of the girl. It was laughable. They were treating a human life like a business transaction, and speaking of it so casually. My eyes fell on the girl’s birthmark again, and I suddenly remembered who she was. If the life of my ordinary daughter wasn’t worth Tiffany’s freedom, let’s see how many lives they would need to pay for this girl’s. Tiffany was still chattering. “Come on, lady, lighten up. Money is what’s real. Your daughter is dead, just have another one…” I slowly raised my head, my gaze settling on her ignorant, arrogant face. “I have a feeling your mother’s money won’t be much good this time.” She jutted her chin out. “Say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will happen to me. My mom told me, the juvenile protection laws are my get-out-of-jail-free card!” I gently wiped the blood from the dead girl’s face, my fingers tracing the plum blossom birthmark. I took off my jacket and covered her, a final gesture of dignity. “A get-out-of-jail-free card?” A bitter smile touched my lips. “Then you’d better pray that everyone in this world believes in the law.” Victoria frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ignored her, took out my phone, and sent a single text message. Then I leaned down and whispered in the dead girl’s ear. “Don’t be afraid. Your father will be here soon.” Then, I dialed 911. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Victoria shrieked, sensing something was wrong. “I’m telling you, this ends here, today! If you dare…”

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My husband’s friend from college has a “sports system,” and I’m the one it’s bound to. As long as I lie still, she can keep moving indefinitely, and all her fatigue gets transferred to me. So my husband ties me to the bed while she runs a marathon and wins. He slips sleeping pills into my milk so she can swim three thousand meters without getting tired. My body is deteriorating, but she’s racking up prize money and awards. My husband constantly belittles me. “Look at Lily, so young and full of energy. Then look at you, lying there until your limbs atrophy!” I rest, she moves? As long as I remain still, she can keep moving? Perfect. On New Year’s Eve, they made plans to “ring in the new year” together. I went straight to a medical research center, signed an agreement, and had myself cryogenically frozen for one year. I’m going to make sure your New Year’s celebration lasts the entire year. You can go break a world record. 1 William came toward me again, holding a wide strip of cloth. He always did this before one of Lily’s competitions. He would tie me up. Whenever I tried to struggle, he would whisper gently, “Honey, don’t talk. Just cooperate for a few hours. I’ll lie here with you.” I stared at him, bewildered. “William, what on earth are you doing?” He didn’t answer. He just held me down. I was pinned to the bed, unable to move. The TV was broadcasting a live marathon. Lily, my husband’s college friend, was running. I watched with a frown. Not ten minutes later, a sharp, aching soreness shot up from my calves, as if I had just run five miles myself. The pain was so intense I let out a groan. I tried to get up, but William held me down firmly. He cradled my head and smiled. “Just bear with it, honey. I’ll give you a massage.” He kneaded my aching muscles while his eyes, gleaming with excitement, were glued to the TV. On the screen, Lily ran with a steady, swift pace, not a drop of sweat on her face. She was a stark contrast to the panting, struggling runners beside her. She ran faster and faster, while the pain in my body intensified. With every step she took, the soreness grew, as if I were the one running. No, it was worse than if I had run it myself. Every time I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, William would press down on me, refusing to let me get up. After what felt like an eternity, the announcer’s excited voice shouted “Champion!” as Lily crossed the finish line and was immediately swarmed by a crowd. William let out a sigh of relief and untied me. Lily accepted the trophy and yelled into the camera, “William, did you see that? I won! I really have you to thank. Day or night, having you by my side gives me peace of mind.” I looked up at William. He stood by the bed, his face a mixture of pride, relief, and excitement. I trembled with a rage that consumed my entire body. 2 I lay on the bed, too exhausted to even lift a finger. “William,” I asked, my voice weak, “why did you tie me up?” He was in the middle of changing his shoes. He paused, and when he turned around, the excitement was gone, replaced by sheer annoyance. “I told you to cooperate. Why do you ask so many questions?” I managed a weak smile. The soreness hadn’t faded, and every word was an effort. “Cooperate? You tie me up like a mummy and make me lie here in agony, and you call that cooperating? And what about you? ‘Day and night’ with your little friend. What exactly are you doing with her?” William’s brow furrowed, his expression cold. “What are you thinking? Lily is just a friend. She’s under a lot of pressure preparing for her competitions. What’s wrong with me looking after her? She’s fit, she wins awards, she brings honor to our country. And you? All you do is lie in bed and let your imagination run wild.” I repeated the words “looking after,” my heart clenching. “Looking after her? You go look after her, and you tie me up? Am I just part of your game?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, his tone hardening. “I told you not to overthink it. She’s like a sister to me. Lily winning the championship is a huge honor. If you’re not going to be happy for me, at least don’t be so jealous. It’s pathetic.” I opened my mouth to say more, but my throat tightened, and no words came out. It was always like this. Whenever Lily had a competition, he always had some excuse to make me stay in bed. He’d say I was tired and needed rest, or he’d come up with some bizarre reason to keep me from moving. I used to think I was just being paranoid. But this time, the pain of being tied down, the bone-deep exhaustion, and the sight of Lily running so effortlessly on TV—it was all like a series of needles, forcing me to wake up. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. My body was getting weaker and weaker. The slightest movement left me breathless. But Lily was becoming more and more energetic, winning award after award. There had to be a connection I wasn’t seeing. A knock on the door broke the silence. William’s face lit up as he rushed to open it, his voice filled with a warmth I hadn’t heard directed at me in a long time. “Lily! You’re here! Come in, you were amazing. I almost cried when you won.” Lily bounced into the room, her eyes landing on me. A mocking smile played on her lips. “Still in bed, are we? Why don’t you get up and move around a bit? It’s not healthy to lie around all day. Look at me, you have to exercise to have energy.” She waved the trophy in her hand, its gleam stabbing at my eyes. William looked at her with doting affection, then turned to me, his voice cold. “What are you waiting for? Get up and make Lily something to eat. If you keep lying there, your limbs are going to atrophy!” 3 Of course I wasn’t going to cook. William ended up making instant noodles for dinner. As I drifted in and out of sleep, I overheard them whispering. They must have thought I was completely out, because even though their voices were low, the words drifted into the bedroom. “William,” Lily said with a giggle, “I’m definitely going to win the three-thousand-meter swim tomorrow. After I get the prize, can we celebrate New Year’s Eve together tomorrow night? You know you’re my New Year’s wish!” William sounded a bit shy. “Lily, your stamina is incredible. You just ran a marathon, and tomorrow you can swim three thousand meters. But… about celebrating together… I’m not sure I can keep up with you.” Lily laughed softly. “Oh, William, I don’t mind. I just want to make you happy. Let’s spend the whole night together, okay?” After a brief silence, William’s voice was hesitant. “But… I still feel guilty. Maybe I should just divorce her. It feels wrong to do this to her.” Lily paused. “William, you can’t divorce her now. My sports system is bound to her. I can only compete without a care in the world if she’s lying perfectly still. All the fatigue gets transferred to her, and that’s how I win all these championships.” I froze. Lily has a system? And it’s bound to me? I held my breath, pressing myself against the headboard, and fumbled for my phone to start recording. Lily’s voice softened, coaxing him. “William, if you divorce her, how will you control her? If she runs off and stops cooperating, my system will be useless.” “Just wait a little longer, William. After I compete in a few more major events next year, the prize money and endorsements will be enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.” “By then, she’ll be completely broken down anyway. A cripple who can’t even walk. No one will suspect anything if she dies. And when she’s gone, we can finally be together, officially. I’ll marry you, okay?” William hesitated for a moment, then chuckled. “Okay, I’ll listen to you. You focus on your race tomorrow. I’ll make sure she behaves. And tomorrow night, we’ll celebrate New Year’s Eve together. I’ll even take something if I have to, just to keep up with you.” Lily giggled. “You’re the best, William. But you have to time it right. You have to let her get up after my race is over, otherwise I won’t be able to stop either.” “Don’t worry,” William replied softly. “I know what I’m doing. I won’t let her stay still for too long, otherwise you’ll keep moving. I get it.” I lay in the darkness, my body ice-cold, my blood frozen in my veins. So that was it. That’s why I was getting weaker, why Lily was always a bundle of endless energy, why William was always finding ways to make me lie down. I wasn’t paranoid. I wasn’t being ridiculous. I was a pawn in their game. A stepping stone for Lily’s success. A tool to be discarded when I was no longer useful. 4 The next morning, the TV in the living room was blasting. The sports channel was broadcasting the pre-race preparations for the three-thousand-meter swim. I was propped up against the headboard, the soreness from the day before still clinging to my muscles. William walked in, holding the same strip of cloth from yesterday, his face blank. “Honey, lie down. Time to cooperate.” I frowned, my voice hoarse. “No, William. I’m not doing it.” He stopped, his brow instantly furrowing. “What’s your problem? It’s just for a few hours. Just bear with it.” He reached for my arm, but I yanked it away. He stared at me for a few seconds, then, as if an idea had struck him, he turned and left the bedroom. He returned a moment later with a glass of milk, his voice softer, coaxing. “Alright, alright, no ropes. Just drink this milk, it’s good for you. You didn’t sleep well last night.” He held the glass out to me. A faint, chemical smell mingled with the scent of milk. My heart turned to ice. Sleeping pills. That was his game. I turned my head away. “I’m not drinking it.” William’s patience finally snapped. His face twisted into a snarl. “Honey, are you determined to fight me on this?” The commentator’s excited voice boomed from the TV, announcing that the swimmers were in position and the race was about to begin. William grew even more agitated. His eyes were locked on me. Suddenly, he pointed out the window. I instinctively turned to look. A sharp, searing pain exploded at the back of my head. I whipped my head back around and saw him holding an ashtray, its edge stained with my blood. I gasped. “William, you’re insane!” Then, everything went black. I don’t know how much time passed before he shook me awake. The back of my head still throbbed, and a wave of dizziness made it hard to open my eyes. “Wake up! Stop playing dead!” It was William’s voice, sounding cheerful. I struggled to open my eyes. Through my blurred vision, I saw the awards ceremony on the TV. Lily was holding up another trophy, a triumphant smile on her face. William stood by the bed, his own face beaming with pride. “Lily won again! See? I told you she could do it.” I tried to move, to push myself up, but I felt something sticky on my cheek. I reached up and my hand came away covered in blood. William’s eyes were still glued to Lily on the screen. He didn’t even turn around. “You’re bleeding. Should you go to the hospital?” I gritted my teeth and summoned every last bit of my strength to crawl out of bed. Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull, and my vision kept blacking out. I stumbled to the doorway and looked back at William. He was still standing there, transfixed by the television, without the slightest intention of even helping me to the door. “I’m celebrating New Year’s Eve with Lily tonight. I won’t be back,” he said, still not looking at me, his voice filled with anticipation. I leaned against the doorframe, a chilling cold seeping deep into my bones. You’re celebrating New Year’s Eve together? I rest, she moves? She can keep moving… indefinitely? Perfect. I will give you a New Year’s celebration you will never forget. 5 Before I left the house, I slipped a small recording device into William’s bag. Then I went to the hospital to get my head wound treated. After I was bandaged up, I walked straight to the hospital’s research wing. I had once seen an ad on my phone for volunteers for a long-term cryogenic freezing experiment. It was for one year, and during that time, no one had the authority to terminate the experiment. I’d thought it was just a strange piece of news back then. I never imagined it would come in handy. The head researcher’s office was simple, her desk piled high with files. When I walked in, she was organizing some documents. She looked up at me. “Here to inquire about the cryo-freeze experiment?” I nodded and asked if it could start tonight. She pushed up her glasses and handed me a contract. “Yes, that’s possible. The rules are, once the experiment begins, you will be frozen for one year. There will be no contact and no early termination. Are you sure about this?” I took the pen and signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. Just before midnight, my phone buzzed. It was a video call from Lily. I stared at the screen for a second before answering. The screen showed the balcony of a high-end hotel room. In the distance, the colorful lights of an amusement park glowed, the Ferris wheel a glittering circle in the night sky. Lily was wearing a bathrobe, her hair damp, a pill in her hand. She leaned into the camera, a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “Sorry about tonight, sis.” She panned the camera around to show a large bed behind her. “William’s in the shower,” she chirped. “And he’s agreed to be my New Year’s gift. Tonight is going to be unforgettable. I won’t live-stream the rest for you, though. Wouldn’t want you to overthink things, hehe.” Just then, William’s voice called from the bathroom. “Lily, can you grab me a towel?” Lily bit her lip and whispered to me, “William’s calling me. Got to go.” The phone screen shook as she laughed. “I’m coming, William!” The call ended. At that moment, the head researcher informed me that everything was ready. I stood up and walked to the cryogenic pod. Then, I took the recording device from William’s bag and activated its live-streaming function. I’d read that this model had low power consumption and could last for a month on a full charge. If only it could last a whole year. That would be even better. I lay down inside the pod and gave the doctor a thumbs-up. She nodded and pressed the start button. A cold mist began to fill the chamber. I closed my eyes, waiting for my consciousness to freeze, with only one thought in my mind: Have a happy New Year, Lily. And you too, William. Enjoy every single second of it.

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My brother was my target. My mission: To get him to celebrate my birthday with me just once before I turned eighteen. If I succeeded, I lived. But my brother hated me. He blamed my birth for killing our parents. He cursed me more than once: “Chloe, why didn’t you die instead?” I never dared to hope he would celebrate with me. Until my eighteenth birthday. It was my last chance. I gathered all my courage and called him carefully: “Lucas, please celebrate my birthday with me just this once, okay? Or else… I’ll die.” But his voice was filled with disgust, utterly careless: “Then hurry up and die.” The call ended. I smiled, a broken, tragic smile. Okay, Lucas. As you wish. … That night. Lucas, who was busy celebrating his adopted sister’s birthday, was called back to work for an emergency. To perform an autopsy on my body. Chapter 1 [Host, this is the last chance.] [If your brother still refuses…] The System didn’t finish the sentence. But I knew it couldn’t bear to say the rest. The System had been with me since I was born. We had spent eighteen years together, day and night. even a cold machine develops feelings eventually. But my only brother still hated me so much. I pressed my lips together. Summoning every ounce of courage, I dialed Lucas’s number. But the voice that answered was bright and cheerful—it was Mia. “Chloe? What’s up?” My chest tightened. Mia… the sister Lucas adopted from the orphanage. But in his heart, she was the real sister. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and asked, voice rasping: “Where’s Lucas?” Mia’s voice bubbled with excitement: “Lucas is setting up fireworks for me! He’s celebrating my birthday today!” I froze. Even though it wasn’t the first time Lucas celebrated Mia’s birthday instead of mine, my heart still stung. Chapter 2 Lucas adopted Mia on my seventh birthday. From that day on, my birthday became Mia’s birthday. Every year after that, Lucas would take her out to celebrate. And I never dared to ask him to stay. I never dared to ask him to celebrate my birthday. I slowly looked up at the clock ticking on the wall. I didn’t have much time left. “Put Lucas on the phone.” Mia’s innocent tone couldn’t hide her bragging: “Why do you need him? He worked overtime for two weeks just to clear three days to celebrate with me.” I lowered my head, the sourness in my heart spreading. Lucas was willing to spend three days celebrating Mia’s birthday. Would he spare three minutes to eat a slice of cake with me? “Mia, who is it?” Lucas’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “It’s… it’s Chloe.” After a shuffling sound, the phone was in Lucas’s hand. “Hello.” Fear and nervousness gripped my throat. I couldn’t speak for a moment. Until Lucas’s impatient voice came through: “If you’re not talking, I’m hanging up.” “Wait—” I stopped him quickly. Swallowing hard, I begged carefully: “Lucas, can you celebrate my birthday with me… just once? Just this once.” My heart pounded with hope and dread. After a long silence, Lucas finally spoke. But his tone was dipped in ice: “You have the nerve to celebrate a birthday?” My heart froze instantly. For years, I thought I was used to his coldness. But in this moment, facing impending death, tears welled up in my eyes. I choked out a plea: “Just this once, Lucas. Please, just this once, okay?” In my panic, I blurted out the truth about the System to make him believe me. “Or else… the System, the System will erase me. “I’ll really die, Lucas.” Chapter 3 The sound of my breathing and heartbeat seemed deafening in the quiet room. I gripped the phone tightly, waiting for Lucas’s verdict. Maybe it was only a second. It felt like a century. Finally. Cold, hateful, indifferent words came through: “Then hurry up and die. “You killed Mom and Dad. Dying would just be paying your debt.” I shattered. Every word was a jagged blade, stabbing into my heart, over and over. Tears fell uncontrollably. I knew. I knew I didn’t deserve a birthday. But I still held onto that tiny sliver of hope. After all. We were the only two people left in this world with the same blood. We were supposed to be family, relying on each other. But… My brother wanted me dead. Fine. I didn’t really want to live anyway. Chapter 4 A faint sigh echoed in my mind. [Host, do you want to… try one more time?] [Go find Lucas. Even if he only stays with you for a minute.] [I’ll apply to HQ to count it as a success.] I smiled tragically, thanking the System for its kindness. “No need.” What was the point? To be hated so deeply by my only family. What was the point of living? I had known since I was little that Lucas hated me. The System told me my mother had a difficult birth with me. I was supposed to die. But Mom didn’t want me to die. She fought to bring me into the world. She traded her life for mine. That same night, Dad, distraught over Mom’s death, got into a car accident. From the moment I was born, I carried the sin of killing my parents. Lucas’s hatred for me was boundless. But… Lucas. I lost Mom and Dad too. Chapter 5 The clock struck 11 PM. I wiped my tears and gently untied the ribbon on the cake box. I lifted the transparent lid. The sweet scent of cream filled my nose. Before I died, I wanted to taste a birthday cake. I had never eaten one before. And I never would again. I took out the “18” candles and placed them gently on the cake. I pulled a lighter from the drawer. A breeze from the window kept blowing the flame out. I stood up and walked to the balcony to close the window. Just then. A brilliant firework exploded in the ink-black sky. Light cascaded down like a waterfall. Beautiful. I stood by the window. Letting the night wind fill my loose, thin dress. Filling the hollow, desolate cavern of my heart. One firework after another trailed silver tails into the sky. Exploding into thousands of stars. Sixteen of them. Mia is sixteen this year. As the last sparks faded, drones formed words in the sky. “Happy Birthday to My Sister.” The wind was strong. It made my eyes sting. That’s nice. Mia is lucky to have a brother who loves her. Chapter 6 The wind howled in my ears. I took a step forward. I was never loved in this life. Next life— Forget it. Let’s not have a next life. Chapter 7 I took another step. My body leaned over the railing. Then, without hesitation, I let go. Falling straight down. Goodbye, Lucas. Chapter 8 Because the floor was so high, my death was gruesome. My soul floated in mid-air. Even looking at myself, I thought it was horrific. Face unrecognizable, limbs twisted, bones shattered. Like a dirty, broken doll nobody wanted. It was late, so there weren’t many people around. Someone called the police. Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer. I looked up. Watching lights turn on in the windows, people peeking out. [Host, it wasn’t time yet.] The System sounded sad. I knew it meant it wasn’t midnight yet. “It doesn’t matter. Half an hour won’t change anything.” [But I detected your brother’s car heading this way.] [Maybe he was coming back to celebrate with you.] Really? I looked at my broken body inside the police tape. I thought: Lucas will be happy to see me dead. Officers were documenting the scene. Lucas’s car drove into the complex. [Host, he really came back.] [If you hadn’t jumped early, the mission might have succeeded.] The System sounded regretful. I didn’t feel much. Maybe when you die, emotions fade. My soul drifted toward Lucas uncontrollably. Lucas got out of the car, Mia following him. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see the commotion. Lucas pulled her head into his chest, his voice gentler than I had ever heard: “Don’t look, Mia. It’ll scare you.” Chapter 9 Mia nodded obediently. She whined in his arms: “But Lucas— “You said you’d stay with me until past midnight.” Lucas rubbed her head affectionately. “Be good, Mia. I’ll be with you as soon as I’m done.” Mia pouted, grumbling unhappily: “It’s all that jumper’s fault. Why jump now?” Lucas tapped her head lightly. “Mia, show some respect for the dead. “I’m a medical examiner. Autopsying bodies to help investigations is my job.” So. Lucas was only called back to dissect my corpse. He didn’t come back to celebrate my birthday. Good. Good. I didn’t have hope anyway. Mia shook Lucas’s arm, muttering: “I know, I know. I just wanted you to spend more time with me.” Lucas pinched her cheek helplessly. Floating in the air, I watched the loving siblings. Actually, I was envious. I never acted spoiled with Lucas. Lucas never treated me with such tenderness. Between us, there was only his hatred and my fear. Worried about Mia going upstairs alone, Lucas asked his assistant to take her up. As soon as she opened the door, Mia called out cheerfully: “Chloe, we’re back!” She probably wanted to brag about the fireworks and drones. But the only response was silence and darkness.

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I impersonated my twin sister to marry the youngest son of the wealthy Pierce family. After the wedding, Julian Pierce saw me only as a gold-digging trophy wife. He took compromising photos of me and sent them to his frat boy group chat for laughs. He burned the lucky charm I prayed for at the cathedral for my sick foster mother. When anyone mentioned our marriage, his eyes dripped with sarcasm. “She’s desperate to lock me down. She marks the days on her calendar, counting down to our anniversary like it’s Christmas.” But he didn’t know. I wasn’t counting down to forever. I was counting down to the day my sister returned. The day I would return the title of “Mrs. Pierce” and disappear from his life forever. 1 Midnight. The sound of fabric tearing woke me up. I opened my eyes to feel Julian’s hand on my lower back. His touch was so cold I shivered. “You’re freezing…” His hand wandered lower with cruel intent, teasing every vulnerable spot. Julian had been drinking. When he kissed me, there was a faint scent of whiskey on his breath. I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling. I knew that resisting or begging would only fuel his aggression. Suddenly. The room was flooded with blinding light. I opened my eyes to see Julian pointing his phone camera directly at me. The lens focused on my face. It captured my silent endurance, my pain, the humiliation and panic of being exposed under the harsh light. “Julian!” I couldn’t help but cry out, “What are you doing?” Julian pulled away with a look of indifference. He adjusted his clothes and sent the photo to his group chat. “A bet is a bet. Who wanted to see her face?” The chat exploded with voice messages. “Damn, Jules! You actually did it.” “Your wife looks good like that. You’re a lucky man.” “Why just the face? Come on, let’s raise the stakes next time.” The click of a lighter. Julian walked out with a cigarette between his lips. His casual, mocking voice drifted through the crack in the door. “If it were Summer, I wouldn’t dream of it.” “But her? Doesn’t matter. Just giving the boys a show.” 2 The air smelled faintly of musk and tobacco. It was suffocating. I stiffly pulled the sheet up, trying to cover the shameful marks on my body. I pressed my hands over my eyes. But water still leaked through my fingers. This was my second month married to Julian Pierce. Or rather, impersonating my sister, Blair, to marry him. Blair and I are identical twins. But when we were born, our parents were struggling artists in Brooklyn. They kept the healthier sister, Blair, and left me on the steps of a church. I was raised by my foster mother, a woman with a bad leg and a heart of gold. Two months ago, Mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The treatment costs were astronomical. Just as we hit a dead end, my biological parents found me. They had made it big, becoming real estate moguls in Manhattan. But they didn’t find me to welcome me home. They found me because Blair had run away two days before her arranged marriage to the Pierce heir. She left only a note saying she’d return in three months. Desperate, my parents found me to take her place. In exchange, they would cover all of my foster mother’s medical bills. 3 In the bathroom. I scrubbed my skin under the freezing water, over and over. But I couldn’t wash away the feeling of him. One more month. Then I can leave. Blair’s flight back to New York is booked for next month. When she returns, the title of Mrs. Pierce goes back to its rightful owner. My biological parents promised me a huge settlement. I’ll take that money, grab my mom, and leave this city forever. At 3 AM. I saw a new post on Blair’s secret Instagram account. She never showed her face. It was a video of her skydiving in Dubai. From 13,000 feet, she leaped, arms spread like a bird in flight. Every strand of hair dancing in the wind screamed freedom. [4000 meters up. Reborn.] [Thanks, Mom and Dad, for these three months of freedom.] 4 I carried a thermos of chicken soup I’d simmered all morning to the hospital. The Vanderbilts—my biological family—were terrified I’d blow my cover, so they tried to stop me from visiting. I hadn’t seen Mom in two weeks. But as I entered the hospital lobby, I ran straight into Julian. He had his arm around a young woman. He was looking at a scrape on her arm with a tenderness I’d never seen. “Does it still hurt?” I tried to hide. Too late. The girl saw me and nudged Julian. “Jules, isn’t that… your wife?” Julian’s gaze snapped to me. Sharp. Cold. Like he wanted to pierce right through me. “What are you doing here?” He raised an eyebrow, disgust filling his eyes. “Stalking me?” “I’m not!” I shook my head frantically. “I came to…” I paused. I couldn’t explain. Julian looked at me with amusement. “To do what? Speak up.” I bit my lip, silent. The girl beside him let go of his arm, her voice soft and aggrieved. “My arm is fine, Jules. You should… go home with your sister-in-law—I mean, your wife.” She lowered her eyes. “I don’t want people to think I’m a homewrecker.” “You’re not.” Julian raised his voice, dripping with sarcasm. “A woman like her, who clawed her way into my bed for money?” “She doesn’t even qualify as a mistress.” “If my family hadn’t forced this marriage, do you think I’d look at her twice?” He wasn’t quiet. Passersby looked over, whispering. Words like “gold digger,” “shameless,” and “desperate” floated to my ears, burning my cheeks. I turned to leave in a panic. But he blocked me. Julian seemed determined to prove his loyalty to his crush by humiliating me. He stared at the thermos in my hand. “What’s this?” “Nothing…” He snatched it. Unscrewed the lid. Sneered. “Blair, do you really think a pot of soup makes you a wife?” “There’s a limit to being delusional.” “Do you think I’d drink this trash?” Before I could explain, he poured the soup down the front of my dress. It was warm, but the grease stained the white fabric, sticking wetly to my legs. Greasy and humiliating. He tossed the empty thermos at my feet. “Get lost.”

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Declan Cross and I were known throughout the city as the most purely hostile couple in the social register. It was a reputation earned, not given. He married me only to gain access to the Aethel Elixir, a rare medicine that would save the life of Stella Wren—the ghost of his first love. And I? I gave him a fake one. He hated me for it my entire life. The day I finally outlived Declan, I cheerfully called my closest circle of friends for a high-stakes bridge game. I planned to celebrate. I ended up losing the entire afternoon. I tossed my cards down in frustration. “This is boring,” I complained to the table. “You are all too good.” “Not like Declan. He lost to me every single time since we were kids.” The women exchanged confused glances. “Eliza, darling, you must be joking,” one of them said. “Who in this entire city doesn’t know Declan Cross is an absolute master player?” “That’s right,” another chimed in. “My husband never once won a hand against him!” My breath caught. The cards in my hand slipped and scattered on the floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—exactly one month before my wedding to Declan. My assistant, Maya, stormed in, her expression fierce. “Your Grace, what’s the plan? How are we going to punish that insidious little viper today?” I shook my head, a strange calm settling over me. “No need,” I said, managing a smile. “Just give her the medicine.” “The real one.” 1 I was leaving my brother Grant’s palace—the seat of our family’s political dynasty—when I walked right into Declan Cross. It was the first time I’d seen him in the month since I was given this strange second chance. The sight of him made me momentarily dizzy. We had spent too long in the last life exchanging nothing but cold glares. I had almost forgotten the gentle curve of his brow, his soft eyes, warm as a sunrise before the world shattered us. Declan clearly hadn’t expected to see me here, either. He opened his mouth, then seemed to remember that we were currently entrenched in a bitter cold war, and his lips pressed into a hard, rigid line. A month ago, he’d demanded that I hand over the Aethel Elixir—a rare family heirloom left to me by my mother—to cure Stella Wren’s mysterious illness. I’d refused, leading to a massive, public fight. This time, though, he would get his wish soon enough. His gaze fell on the sealed document in my hand—a decree from my brother, Senator Grant Sutton—and his forehead furrowed. The contempt in his voice was a sharp, undisguised edge. “Still throwing your weight around, Eliza? If you can’t have something, you just manipulate and demand it, regardless of the cost to anyone else!” I paused, realizing he had misinterpreted the situation. It was understandable. In the last timeline, I’d cried and begged Grant to force Declan to marry me, and Declan had taken thirty lashes rather than consent, all for Stella. This time, it truly wasn’t what he thought. I was about to explain, but he was already gone, turning on his heel and sweeping away without a backward glance. It wasn’t until we were far down the hall that Maya, my steadfast assistant, couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into tears. I looked at her, weary. “What is there to cry about? It’s just a marriage. What difference does it make who I marry?” “But Senator Victor Albright is nearly seventy, Your Grace! He has dozens of mistresses and he’s known to be utterly ruthless, a monster in business and life!” Maya’s tears were like rain, streaming down her face. “I just hate this for you…” I slowly unfolded the sealed decree. It was, indeed, a marriage contract. But not for me and Declan. It was for the Sutton heiress, Eliza, and the notorious power broker, Victor Albright. In the previous life, I never knew the Aethel Elixir in our vault was fake. So, when I woke up, the first thing I did was send my people to find the real one. The only known dose was locked away in Victor Albright’s private collection. I wrote to him, asking what it would take for him to part with it. His reply contained just one condition— I had to marry him. I once used that medicine to blackmail Declan into marrying me. It seemed the bitter consequences of that action had finally found their way back to me. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Perhaps this is just karma.” 2 Declan and I had known each other since we were kids. To call us childhood sweethearts wouldn’t be a stretch. Even though he was meant to be my brother’s—Grant’s—protégé, he always ended up following me around instead. The Cross family had only sons for a generation, and he’d always wanted a younger sister. Grant, being generous, had simply said, “Then you can have my sister.” From then on, Declan was more devoted to me than Grant was. If I got into a tussle with the tutor’s grandson, he’d step forward and take the blame for me. If I heard about some new gadget or rare import in the city, he’d scour every corner until he found it. The memory that stayed with me most was when I begged him to sneak me out of the family estate. Declan refused at first but ultimately succumbed to my relentless pestering. That day, the city was infiltrated by operatives from the Northern Cartel. We were almost caught in the crossfire, saved only by a patrol led by Declan’s father, the General. As always, Declan took all the responsibility. His father was furious and handed down a severe punishment. When I went to see him, he was lying face down on his bed, groaning dramatically. But the moment he saw me, the performance stopped. I was the one who burst into tears. “Why didn’t you turn me in? Why did you take that beating for no reason!” Declan scrambled to wipe my tears, his expression utterly serious. “You’re a Sutton, the most important one. I’m your protector.” “I will always have your back, Eliza.” He held out his pinky, and we sealed the promise. I thought that’s how it would always be. Until Declan returned from his last deployment and brought a woman with him. Stella Wren. He protected her fiercely. Even his most rough-and-tumble lieutenants treated her with profound respect. I started to panic. If Declan had someone else in his life, what would happen to me? That’s why, when he asked for the Aethel Elixir, I didn’t agree. If she died, wouldn’t that solve my problem? Besides, it was my mother’s final memento. But Declan was furious. “It’s the only thing that can save her, Eliza! What do you need it for? Why can’t you surrender it to someone who needs it to live?” I stared at him, stubborn. “How do you know I won’t need it myself someday?” It was the first time Declan had ever truly lost his temper with me. “Eliza, you are being completely unreasonable and selfish!” He refused to speak to me, and I refused to yield. But I always seemed to be one step behind Declan. The closer he grew to Stella, the more frantic I became. I was certain that one day, his eyes would only see Stella, and I would be invisible. Even if she died, I felt I wouldn’t win. The perfection of his devotion would forever overshadow me. So, I agreed to give him the medicine, on the condition that he marry me. Reluctantly, and only to save Stella, Declan married me. But I never anticipated that the medicine would be fake. Even now, I remember it vividly. Declan holding Stella helplessly, his tears mixing with her blood on his crisp shirt, like a blossoming wound. He looked up at me, his eyes consumed only by hatred. “Eliza Sutton, I will never—” “Never forgive you.” Declan began staying out, retreating from our shared life. He seemed determined to show me that even without Stella, he would not love me. I became obsessive, checking on his movements like a lunatic. I tracked him to a private club. He had hired a woman—a socialite, a mistress—who bore a striking resemblance to Stella. Stella had become my waking nightmare. She was the Gordian knot that bound Declan and me in a toxic loop. I used my influence to have the woman utterly ruined, her life and reputation destroyed, ensuring she would never show her face in this city again. That night, Declan burst into our master suite, dragged me from the bed, and clamped his hand around my wrist. “I thought you were merely spoiled and capricious, but you are truly malicious!” he snarled, his eyes blazing. “She was innocent, Eliza! How could you destroy her life!” I laughed, though tears streamed down my face. “Yes, she was innocent, Declan. But you must remember this: She died because of you.” A wave of pain washed over Declan’s face, and his composure nearly broke. The next day, he testified against me in front of Grant and the board. My brother, to appease the public outrage, had to fine me and restrict my movements. From that day on, Declan and I were the city’s most infamous pair of bitter rivals, known to all as a couple who “started as golden children, only to end up utterly repulsed by one another.” I didn’t care what people thought. I had secured a lifetime of toxic entanglement with Declan. Until the day he died. 3 When Declan died, the doctors reported it as an accumulated illness, his heart broken and his body worn out by endless political and military strain. His young aide rushed to my doorstep, weeping uncontrollably. “The General worked day and night! He died serving the Sutton legacy!” the aide cried. “The only time the General was ever truly happy was when he was with Ms. Wren overseas!” Maya had the aide removed, then turned to me, her eyes clouded with worry. “I’m not sad. Why would I be sad?” I said, staring at the wall. “It’s what Declan deserved. I did nothing wrong.” “He betrayed me first! He betrayed me first…” He was dead. I had won. I should have been thrilled. So, I waved my hand and told Maya to organize a bridge game with the ladies. I lost all afternoon. I slammed my hand down on the table, annoyed. “This is boring. You are all too skilled.” “Not like Declan. He lost to me every single time, from when we were kids until the end.” The wives were bewildered, exchanging knowing looks. “Eliza, you’re just teasing,” one said. “Everyone knows the General was a genius at cards.” “Right. My husband couldn’t beat him on his best day.” My body froze. I remembered three days before his death, when Declan had come to see me. For once, there was no hostility between us. “Let’s play a round of bridge, Eliza,” he’d said. “Just like the old days.” That day, he lost to me, too. I’d sneered, “For a man who is brilliant in every other field, it’s refreshing to know you have weaknesses, General.” Declan gave a muffled, soft laugh. As he was leaving, he turned back to me and said something that now felt like a punch to the gut: “Eliza, you have to walk your own path in this world. No one can stay with you until the very end.” I had thought he was asking for a divorce. But he was saying goodbye. A suffocating pain seized my chest, and I doubled over, coughing up a mouthful of blood. My consciousness began to splinter. The room erupted in frantic noise. Declan, is this how you felt when Stella died? I think… I really was wrong. 4 Maya was glumly helping me pack for the South, listing the expensive gowns and fine jewelry I would need for my new life with Victor Albright. I knew her fear. The North was volatile, and our family’s enemies in the South were restive. Grant’s position as Senator was tenuous. The Cross family was one of the few assets he could rely on. Victor Albright’s insistence on marrying me was purely to humiliate the Suttons and weaken Grant. “If this buys Grant a moment to breathe, it’s worth it,” I told her. Maya sniffled. “But Your Grace, I hear the South is rife with tropical diseases and humidity, not to mention insects and giant rodents! How can a delicate lady like you endure that…” I gently pinched her cheek. “Stop listening to those ridiculous rumors, Maya. We’ll see it with our own eyes soon enough.” “Come on. It’s the annual Spring Fair tonight. Let’s buy some trinkets. If we ever feel homesick, we’ll have something to remind us.” The main street was a roaring river of noise, the string lights overhead casting the avenue in a warm, festive glow. I pointed to a delicate, antique porcelain figurine—a lotus—at a nearby stall. Maya’s face finally brightened. “I’ll get it for you, Your Grace!” She was just reaching for her purse when the vendor snatched the lotus figurine back and handed it instead to a woman standing next to her. It was Stella Wren. Maya was incensed. “You told me you’d sell it to me! How can you go back on your word!” The vendor scratched his head. “Ma’am, just let it go. Ms. Wren is under the protection of General Cross’s estate!” That only fueled Maya’s fury. “What if she is? My mistress wants it, and we don’t surrender anything to others!” She reached out to grab it, and Stella instantly went pale, stumbling and falling theatrically onto the cobblestones. The fragile lotus figurine shattered on the ground. I stepped forward and stopped Maya. Just then, Declan rushed up, having seen the final moment of the scene. Stella saw him and immediately became the picture of distress, tears gushing like a broken dam. “I am but a humble woman, General. I’ve never seen anything so lovely, and I apologize for offending the Princess. Please forgive me,” she whimpered. Declan gently helped her up, his expression one of protective tenderness. “Eliza, it was just a silly figurine! Does it really give you the right to treat people so cruelly?” The gentleness he showed Stella was immediately replaced by unbridled accusation when he looked at me. I felt a faint prick in my chest. Two lifetimes separated us, and yet what weighed between us was so much more than a simple reproach. I had seen him favor Stella too many times to feel any deep pain now. Declan pulled Stella away. “Don’t cry. I’ll make you a much better one when we get back.” I called out, stopping them both. “Today’s incident was my fault for poor management of my staff. I will purchase every single item in this shop as an apology to Ms. Wren.” “My lady,” I said, looking at Stella. “I won’t fight you for anything you desire.” Declan whipped around, staring at me with a look of utter shock. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he could hide it. 5 The next day, for the first time in a month, Declan Cross came to my suite. “Here. I made this myself.” He was holding a delicate, ornate lamp. The fine craftsmanship proved it hadn’t been rushed. I had Maya take it, and I offered him a calm “Thank you.” “Why are you being so formal with me?” he asked, his voice low. Declan lowered his eyes, a fiercely contained stillness about him. “My relationship with Stella isn’t what you think. I was ambushed overseas, and she saved my life. Afterward, her father and brothers were killed, and the poisoning she suffers from is also because of me.” “I owe her a debt I can never repay, Eliza. I just want to save her…” I looked at him quietly, then nodded. “Alright. I will give you the Aethel Elixir.” Declan’s head snapped up. He stared at me, disbelief shining in his eyes. “You… Are you serious?” He was always so cautious when it came to Stella’s well-being. “Yes. Come to my estate in seven days to retrieve it.” He looked puzzled. “Why seven days?” Because in seven days, Victor Albright’s delegation would arrive with the real Elixir and escort me south. I offered a casual lie. “I’m taking inventory of the vault. It’ll take me a few days to locate it.” A smile touched Declan’s lips. Then, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him, a faint blush touched the tips of his ears. “Since you are willing to give up the medicine, I will agree to whatever condition you ask of me.” I smiled and shook my head. “No need.” “This time, Declan, I’m letting go.” Declan looked confused, clearly not grasping my meaning. He was about to press me further when his aide rushed in with an urgent report. “General, Ms. Wren’s illness has flared up! You need to hurry back!” Declan’s face instantly changed. He turned to leave, then suddenly stopped and looked back at me. “So, are we okay now? Are we reconciled?” I simply nodded. After Declan left, Maya cautiously looked at my expression. “Your Grace, should we take the lamp with us?” I shook my head. “No.” “Leave it here.” 6 The day before my departure, I went to a historic local church—a retreat center—I used to frequent. Whenever Declan left on deployment, I would come here to pray for his safe return. This time, I was praying for myself. The moment I stepped onto the grounds, I sensed something was wrong. There were two suspicious groups present. One group was composed of large men with covered faces, speaking a harsh, Northern dialect. The other group wore unusual, brightly colored clothing. The leader of the second group was a strikingly beautiful man, his dark hair pulled back with an indigo cloth tie. The collar of his tunic was embroidered with rare stitching and weighed down by intricate silver jewelry. When he turned his head and looked at me, he reminded me of a wild deer in the mountains—wary and powerful. I spoke quietly to Maya: “These people are dangerous. We need to go back and warn Grant immediately.” Just then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, I ran into Stella Wren again. She was still frail and delicate, but she curled her lips into a small, taunting smile. “Have you come here to pray for the General’s heart, Your Grace?” she asked. “You may be a high-society lady, but some things cannot be forced.” I studied Stella calmly. She was clearly trying to provoke me. In the last life, I had always given her what she wanted, allowing myself to be enraged, pushing Declan further away. Seeing my tranquil expression, Stella grew anxious. “You have no idea how many scars he carries! You don’t know how much he suffered for you!” she spat out. “When I found the General, he was severely wounded, his eyes blinded, and he couldn’t remember his own name. But he still remembered that a very important person was waiting for him to come home.” “And you? After he risked his life to return, all you did was throw tantrums and demand that he humble himself to you.” “You don’t deserve his love. If you force him to marry you in exchange for that medicine, I would rather die!” With that, she turned and stormed off in a huff. Stella was right. I was obsessed with Declan, but I was not his good match. Thankfully, in this life, I wouldn’t have to burden him anymore. Suddenly, a sharp scream ripped through the air. The large, bulky men had grabbed Stella. One of them, speaking with a heavy Northern accent, snarled, “If it wasn’t for her, I would have killed Declan Cross years ago!” “We lost too many men because of her. We’ll cut off her hand, then trade her to Cross for a profit.” A wave of panic hit me. Without thinking, I lunged forward, throwing myself toward Stella. A sharp blade sliced deeply across my collarbone. Blood instantly bloomed on my dress. My small group of security personnel was quickly overwhelmed by the Northern operatives. A sudden, rapid pounding of hoofbeats echoed, and I heard Declan’s voice. “Stella, are you alright!?” I was collapsing to the ground, and I used the last of my strength to call his name. “Declan…” He seemed to sense me and started to turn, but Stella wrapped her arms around his neck, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. “Declan, I’m so scared! Take me away from here, please!” Declan froze for a beat, then lifted the trembling woman into his arms. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you away.” My consciousness was ebbing. My heart sank, heavy and cold. I thought I heard the faint, melodic tinkle of silver bells. Then, one of the Northern operatives let out a blood-curdling scream: “Shit! Where did all these snakes come from?!”

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Ethan Carter got drunk one night and got a girl pregnant. By the time I found out, she was already six months along. He said we could keep the baby and go back to the way things were. I shook my head and asked him one question, refusing to let it go: “Ethan, between me and this child, who do you choose?” That day, he was silent for a long time. He couldn’t give me an answer. But after I disappeared, he regretted it. 1 After five years of marriage, I never thought it would end like this. At the hospital entrance, Ethan carefully supported a young, beautiful girl as she walked down the stairs. I stood not far away, locking eyes with him just as his face was filled with tenderness. His gaze dodged mine instantly, stiffly avoiding eye contact. The pregnant girl beside him looked at me too, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. Ethan helped her into the car, gave her some instructions, and then walked toward me. His steps were calm and collected, the panic from our initial eye contact completely gone. He took my hands, which were ice cold, and warmed them in his palms. “Why are you at the hospital? Are you feeling sick?” He spoke words of concern, reaching out to touch my forehead. I dodged his hand. “Who is she?” Ethan didn’t answer my question. Instead, he pulled me into his arms to comfort me. “Someone unimportant. I’ll explain when we get home, okay?” His gentle tone broke me, and tears finally fell. I looked up stubbornly, demanding an answer. If he told me the truth, I would believe him. Ethan sighed softly and wiped the tears from the corner of my eyes. “The child is mine.” The tears dried on my face. I forgot how to breathe. I bit my lip until it bled, breaking free from his embrace and backing away step by step. Only then did Ethan show a hint of anger. He pulled me close again, looking at me with heartache. “Sarah, you can blame me, but don’t torture yourself.” I didn’t understand why he would show me this side of him—this loving side—after doing something so unforgivable. In our silent standoff, the girl got out of the car. “Go back inside!” Ethan’s voice was cold, devoid of warmth. The girl looked at him timidly but didn’t leave. Her eyes grew determined. “Miss Miller, Mr. Carter and I aren’t what you think. This child was an accident.” She smiled bitterly. “If I could, I wouldn’t want him either.” My vision blurred. I couldn’t see the expression on Ethan’s face clearly. But I knew him. I could feel that his coldness toward her had already melted away. “Enough! Stop talking!” Jealousy and resentment flooded my heart. I screamed, collapsing under the weight of it all. The girl stumbled, startled, almost falling. Ethan rushed to catch her, holding her securely in his arms. I stared blankly at the scene. A thought flashed through my mind. I lunged at them. Just as I was about to touch her swollen belly, a powerful force shoved me away. I sat on the ground, looking at my scraped palms, and let out a tragic laugh. Ethan looked at his outstretched hand in disbelief, frozen. That day, Ethan left the six-months-pregnant girl behind and took me home. But I knew there was no future for us anymore. 2 Back home, Ethan gave me an explanation. I sat on the bed, unmoving, for a long time. He stood on the balcony of our bedroom, smoking cigarettes all night. I knew he was hurting himself to make me feel sorry for him. He always knew my weaknesses. As dawn broke, Ethan turned and came inside, standing beside me. “Hungry? What do you want to eat? I’ll cook.” I called out to him, my voice hoarse. “Ethan, let’s talk.” Ethan paused, not turning around for a long time. He knew my personality. He knew I cared about this. I cared deeply. Even if he was drunk that night, even if the contact was unintentional. I couldn’t forgive him. So, Ethan had hidden it. But no one expected that a stranger, someone he met only once, would get pregnant. And due to her health condition, she couldn’t abort the baby. That led us to today. Ethan left. He didn’t dare face what I was about to say. I knew he loved me. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have been together for so many years. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have spoiled me until I was soft and prone to tears. For the next week, Ethan didn’t come home. But he asked the housekeeper about me every day, down to the smallest detail. The housekeeper tried to persuade me: “Madam, you and Mr. Carter are the most loving couple I’ve ever seen. Just talk it out. “Mr. Carter… he’s lost so much weight recently.” She had been with us for years. She had never seen us fight. Even Ethan’s mother, who had disapproved of me in the early years, eventually accepted me because we were so happy. My phone rang. It was Ethan’s friend. “Sarah, Ethan’s drunk. Can you come pick him up?” “Leave him be!” After hanging up, the heavy feeling in my chest only grew. I kept picturing Ethan’s retreating back, looking more hunched than usual. I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there alone. After struggling with myself, I grabbed the car keys. And walked out the door. 3 The door to the private room was ajar. I stood outside without entering. Ethan was indeed drunk, sprawled ungracefully on the sofa. Standing in front of him was the pregnant girl. Ethan’s friend looked embarrassed. “Miss Su, Sarah wouldn’t come, and Ethan refused to leave. I had to call you.” The girl smiled gently and helped lift one of Ethan’s arms. He pushed her away abruptly. Gasps filled the room, snapping Ethan out of his drunken stupor. He looked at the woman in front of him and gave a smile uglier than crying. “Chloe Su, it’s all because of you. Sarah doesn’t want me anymore…” Ethan repeated the sentence over and over, searching for more alcohol. No one could stop him. He grabbed a bottle and chugged it like his life depended on it. Suddenly, Chloe grabbed the bottle from his hand and smashed it on the floor. The room went silent. Even Ethan, who had been making a drunken scene, stared at her blankly. “Ethan Carter, your shouting will scare our baby. “Get up. I’m tired. Take me home.” Ethan Carter, who commanded respect in this city, had never been ordered around like this by anyone but me. Everyone thought he would explode. No one dared to breathe. But in that oppressive atmosphere, Ethan said nothing. He stood up slowly, grabbed his coat, and silently followed Chloe. They left together. I hid in the corner, watching the man and woman walk away. And I laughed. But the laughter was bitter. I followed their taxi to a high-end apartment complex. I watched Ethan get out and walk upstairs with the girl. A light turned on in a window high above. I sat in my car watching all night. Ethan never came out. At 7 AM, he walked back in carrying breakfast. I looked at his familiar back. And quietly drove away. 4 I called Ethan home, but I didn’t bring up divorce. I looked at the man who had visibly lost weight and quickly looked away. “I didn’t pick you up last night. Where did you stay?” Ethan’s fingers trembled slightly. After a moment, he said: “I stayed at the office.” I couldn’t describe the feeling in my heart. Not exactly sadness. Just disappointment. When did Ethan learn to lie to me? The person who promised to be honest with me forever had changed. I didn’t expose him because it didn’t matter anymore. “How far along is she?” Ethan paused for a few seconds, as if afraid to hurt me. “Almost seven months.” Then, he knelt on one knee before me, burying his head in my lap. His tears soaked my skirt. “Sarah, I was wrong. Don’t leave me.” In my memory, Ethan had never cried. Now, he was crying hard. Seeing him cry made my heart ache. But I knew I couldn’t be soft-hearted now. “Arrange a meeting for me with that girl.” We met at Chloe Su’s apartment. Ethan waited outside. Chloe gently stroked her belly, her eyes full of anticipation for the child. “That night, the lights were off. I was truly terrified. “But the next morning, when I saw Mr. Carter lying next to me, I felt a moment of relief.” Chloe smiled as she spoke. She looked up at me, still gentle and beautiful. “Miss Miller, now that Mr. Carter and I are about to have a child, why don’t you just let us be together?” With Ethan gone, the girl in front of me seemed like a different person. Actually, I wasn’t surprised. The night I went to find Ethan, Chloe had glanced behind the door at me. I knew she had seen me that day. She stood up slowly and opened the door to a closed room. Inside was a cozy nursery. “Mr. Carter picked everything in here himself. He decorated the room. “He’s not without expectations for this child.” I wanted to maintain my last shred of composure in front of Chloe, who was flaunting Ethan’s fatherly love. But she provoked me. So, Ethan had expectations for this child too. He wasn’t indifferent. My strength drained away. I leaned on the dining table for support, knocking over a glass of water. The crisp shattering sound hit my heart, cracking it open. Hearing the noise, Ethan rushed in to find me swaying and Chloe lying on the floor crying in pain. That day, I will never forget that Ethan’s first choice was no longer me. Chloe smiled triumphantly at me, thinking she had won. As he brushed past me, Ethan hesitated for only a second. Then he walked past me, picked up Chloe, and rushed to the hospital.

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Seven years into our marriage, the “pet” Holden Winchester kept on the side got bored. She turned tail and ran, leaving behind only one sentence: “Holden, I’ve got enough of your money. Now, I don’t want you anymore either.” I watched from the sidelines, coldly waiting to see how long Holden could tolerate this. After all, scenes like this had been playing out constantly for the past three years. But this time, he just smiled with terrifying indifference. “She’s just a pet. Did she really think I gave her my heart?” That was until, not long after, news broke that her car had crashed and burned. The man who had always been cold and unfeeling instantly went insane. 1 After Mia died, Holden acted like a man possessed. He locked himself in his study, refusing to eat or drink. I knocked on the door. The only response was a cold, “Get out.” I knew he was grieving. I wanted to apologize. But I shut my mouth, realizing how ridiculous I was being. We hadn’t divorced yet. He was the one who cheated. Why should I be the one to say sorry? I looked at the cold dinner on the table. The soup I had spent five hours simmering had formed a congealed film on top. It smelled faintly of decay. I dumped it all into the trash compactor. Just like our twenty-year bond. If I didn’t throw it out now, it would only rot and breed maggots. Disgusting to me, and disgusting to everyone else. On the eighth day, Holden finally emerged. He had cleaned himself up, shaved, and returned to his usual untouchable, elite persona. But the look he gave me was darker than ever, as if I were the one responsible for his beloved’s death. I looked at him calmly, waiting for the storm. We had known each other for years, married for seven. From school uniforms to wedding gowns, I always thought we were walking the same path. But halfway through, someone decided to get off the bus. I was forced to accept it. “Where is she?” Holden’s voice was dead, devoid of emotion. After a long silence, I whispered, “Buried.” Holden’s face instantly darkened. He looked at me with intense hatred. “Genevieve, who gave you permission to bury her?” “Do your dirty hands… even… deserve… to touch her?” His eyes were ferocious, grinding the words out through clenched teeth. I could feel that if I weren’t pregnant right now, he would have rushed over to strangle me. But I overestimated my place in his heart. The next second, I was pinned against the sofa. His large hand tightened around my throat, squeezing the last bit of air from my lungs. The world spun. Darkness encroached on my vision. Sounds faded away. His tone was maniacal. “You really think being pregnant makes you safe?” “It’s just a mistake. Did you really think I’d care about it?” “Mia is dead. Don’t worry, you and the little bastard in your belly are next.” The terror of suffocation made me want to scream for help, but my throat was clamped shut. Not a sound came out. I realized then that Holden really wanted me dead. I don’t know how much time passed before the weight vanished, followed by the sound of the front door slamming. Consciousness slowly returned. I sat on the sofa, dazed. I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment at the clinic. 2 Holden and I were childhood sweethearts, but we were also a business merger. Our parents arranged the match when we were three. We got our marriage license before we even graduated college. Life after marriage was harmonious, happy even. Maybe it was his upbringing, but Holden was never one to be surprised by anything. He didn’t know how to yield, how to love, or how to say sweet things. But he would prepare small surprises for me. On my birthday, he would bake a cake himself. Then, like a magic trick, he’d produce the necklace I’d been eyeing and hug me tight. “Gen, it’s not that I don’t have a heart. Give me time. I’ll figure out how to love you properly.” “Don’t give up on me, okay?” Every time he said that, I would nod vigorously, whispering that we had a lifetime to figure it out. In the heat of the night, he would lean close to my ear, whispering intimate things that made me blush. When did it change? Maybe the day Holden met Mia. I had pushed myself too hard the day before and couldn’t wake up. He went to a scheduled event alone. Mia was someone else’s assistant. Fresh out of college, nervous and stiff. She smiled shyly—harmless and cute. She didn’t know how to play golf, so she boldly asked Holden to teach her. They exchanged numbers. From meeting to starting an affair took less than two weeks. Mia quit her job and jumped ship to his company. Holden kept her by his side, teaching her everything, cultivating her like a rose waiting to bloom. The funny thing is, I never even got a chance to confront her. Holden hid her too well. I tried to investigate, but found nothing. Instead, I’d face his rage the next day. Once, I paid a fortune to get Mia’s personal info. Before I could do anything, a dossier on my father’s mistress landed on my desk. And not just my dad. The privacy of everyone in my family was laid bare. Holden’s warning was clear: If I targeted Mia, my family’s dirty laundry would be aired to the public. That night, I smashed everything in the villa in front of him. Holden just sat on the sofa, watching me break things with indifference. He looked at me like I was the crazy one. Funny… Now he’s the one who’s gone crazy. 3 That night, just as I fell asleep, his assistant called me. “Ms. Sterling, Mr. Winchester is digging up the grave. Please, come stop him.” I laughed. I was the wife Holden married, yet everyone called Mia “Mrs. Winchester” and referred to me as “Ms. Sterling.” Since the last time I decided to divorce and then ghosted him, Holden had announced on the company’s official social media: Mia is the only wife I recognize in this life. After that day, I became the laughingstock of the city. I pulled the corner of my mouth; my neck still throbbed with pain. “If it’s his business, call the Winchester family. Don’t tell me. It has nothing to do with me.” I hung up. I never thought Holden would stoop to grave-robbing. Since he got with Mia, we talked about divorce more often than we ate dinner. But it never happened. Either I refused, or Mia called him away with some excuse. The last time was two months ago. Holden offered me half his assets to sign the papers. I agreed. But the day before we were to sign, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t show up. Holden blew up my phone that day. That was also the day Mia left. When Holden’s grandfather, the patriarch of the family, found out, he talked to Holden all night. Holden might ignore everyone else, but he respected the Old Man. The next day, Holden withdrew all his search teams. He stopped looking for her. We didn’t speak again. Divorce wasn’t mentioned. I thought that even if he didn’t care about me, he cared about the child. Now I see that trying to use a child to tie down a man was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever done. The next day, I went to the clinic. I’m not a saint. I didn’t want to be a single mother. I can live without love, but my child should be born into a whole family. The procedure was quick. I was discharged that afternoon. Now that the child was gone, divorce was just a piece of paper. Holden hadn’t shown up once during this time. But of course, he was scouring the world for his little lover. He refused to believe Mia was actually dead. 4 Seven years of marriage. I didn’t have much stuff, but it wasn’t little either. I hired someone to set up a burn barrel in the yard. I burned everything that could burn. The jewelry I couldn’t burn, I sold. I didn’t want to take a single thing from this villa, nor leave a trace behind. Might as well burn it all. When Holden returned, he walked in just as I threw our wedding photo into the fire. I was surprised. I hadn’t seen him in over a month; I thought he’d died of heartbreak. Through the smoke, his eyes were cold. He looked at me like I was already dead. He was holding a funerary urn. As he passed me, Holden suddenly shoved me. If the butler hadn’t been quick enough to catch me, I would have fallen into the fire. My face would have been ruined. A chill shot up from the soles of my feet. Holden had truly lost his mind. He was using this to get revenge. Holden clicked his tongue, as if disappointed I hadn’t fallen. “Clean this up.” He turned and went upstairs. A nameless fire roared to life in my chest. Holden keeping a mistress? I tolerated it. Threatening my family? I tolerated it. Mia’s constant provocations? I tolerated it. Him getting me drunk and pregnant? I tolerated that too. I endured it all for three years. Now he openly wanted me dead. I wasn’t going to endure it anymore. If that’s how it is, let’s all burn. I rushed up, grabbed Holden’s arm, and spun him around. I slapped him across the face with everything I had. His head snapped to the side. He stared back at me with eyes like ice. Looking at the red handprint on Holden’s face, I felt a flash of immense satisfaction. “Tomorrow morning, 9 AM. We divorce.” “I didn’t cause Mia’s death. Don’t dump your dirty water on me. You know exactly how I got pregnant. I didn’t show up for the divorce that day because your mother took me to the family estate.” “And your little lover? Your mother ordered the burial because she couldn’t stand seeing you act like a ghost. Don’t pin your guilt on me.” Holden didn’t react to my explanation. I didn’t care if he believed me. It had nothing to do with me anymore. I made myself clear. As I left the Winchester villa, I thought about the question Holden had asked me once. “Have you ever tasted the feeling of your beloved dying?” Beloved? Ha. How did I answer him back then? Oh, right. I said: “Holden, to me, you’ve been dead for a long time.” When two people are in love, they can’t see anyone else. Once, I couldn’t see Mia. Now, Holden couldn’t see me.

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Everyone praised my understanding and big‑picture thinking. When my CEO husband, Alex, brought his widowed sister‑in‑law and her son home, her eyes red and pleading — “Ava, Finn’s father is gone. Could I… borrow Alex for a few days? To be a father to him?” — I went without a word to pack Alex’s bag. “We’re family,” I said. “No need to talk of borrowing.” At my own son’s birthday party, my nephew whined to go to the amusement park and not “share” his daddy. My son promptly told the guests, “My father has urgent business. The party ends here. Thank you all.” Everyone commended his grace and mine. Only we knew the truth: my son and I had been reborn. In our last life, Alex showed the same blatant favoritism to his widowed sister‑in‑law, Isabelle, forcing me to swallow humiliation after humiliation. When I finally demanded a divorce, my son developed a heart condition — an artificial heart was his only hope. I returned to Alex, broke and desperate. He laughed and threw me out into a blizzard. “You’ll never be as kind and understanding as Isabelle,” he sneered. “Give up.” Later, my son’s heart stopped beating in my arms. Now, reborn, I’ve let go. All I want is for my son to live. … After the guests had left the party, I knelt to straighten my son’s crooked little bowtie. He tilted his head back, his young face eerily calm. “Mommy, Daddy isn’t staying with us again today, is he?” I looked at him, my heart aching. “You can cry if you want to, Noah. You don’t have to be strong for me.” He shook his head, his small hand touching my cheek. “If Mommy doesn’t cry, Noah won’t cry.” It was only then that I realized tears were already streaming down my face. The memories of my past life were a constant, haunting shadow. That year, it was also Noah’s birthday. Isabelle had called in tears, claiming her son, Finn, was having nightmares and would only sleep if Alex was there. I had lost my temper, throwing them both out. Alex had called me unreasonable, slammed the door, and chased after them, not returning all night. The next day, Noah had a sudden heart attack at school. By the time he reached the hospital, it was too late. The doctors said if we had caught it earlier, if he’d had surgery in time… But Alex was busy at an amusement park with Isabelle and Finn. He didn’t even answer his phone. When I couldn’t gather enough money for the surgery, I knelt outside his office building, begging. He had security drag me away. “This pathetic act of yours,” he’d said, “isn’t worth a single hair on Isabelle’s head.” The day Noah died, a heavy snow fell across the city. I held his small, cold body and sat in the hospital corridor all night. My tears ran dry, and my heart died with him. Later, after selling everything I owned, I jumped from the roof of Alex’s company building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back here. Today. Noah tugged on my hand. “Mommy, I heard Daddy’s phone ring just now. I think the hospital said… they found a heart.” My own heart jolted. The same call had come in my last life. But Isabelle had used the excuse that Finn “wasn’t feeling well” and made Alex take him for a check-up first. By the time they were done, the donor heart had already gone to another patient. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I immediately dialed Alex’s number. It rang for a long time before he answered. The chaotic music of an amusement park blared in the background. “What is it?” “The hospital just called. They found a matching heart for Noah.” I forced a sense of urgency into my voice. “You need to come back now. We have to get him admitted right away.” There was a pause, then Isabelle’s tearful voice came through the line. “Ava, I’m so sorry, are we interrupting something? Finn got scared on the rollercoaster, and his heart is beating so fast. Alex insisted on taking us to the hospital to get it checked…” I hesitated for only a second. “Then you should go get it checked. But—” My voice became colder than I’d ever heard it. “Alex, you must come back now. This is Noah’s life.” Alex’s tone hardened. “Ava, Isabelle is a single mother, it’s not easy for her. Finn might have a heart problem. I’ll take them and be right back. It’s not like the heart is going to get up and walk away, is it?” I gripped the phone tighter. “An organ transplant isn’t a game. If we miss this chance, we don’t know how long we’ll have to wait for the next one.” “Don’t be unreasonable,” he said, and hung up. I stood there, a chill seeping into my bones. Noah wrapped his arms around my leg, his small face looking up at me. “It’s okay, Mommy. We can wait. Daddy will come back.” Seeing his maturity tore me apart. In our last life, he had said the same thing from his hospital bed. “Mommy, don’t blame Daddy. He just wants to help little Finn.” But who was going to help him? He was only seven. His life had just begun. I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and dialed Alex’s number again. He answered quickly this time. In the background, I could hear Finn’s excited screams. “Daddy! Look how high I’m flying!” My nails dug into my palm. “Alex, I’m sorry, I was being impulsive. Finn isn’t feeling well, you should take him to the hospital first. I can handle the arrangements for the heart.” He was clearly taken aback. “Ava, you…” “Go on,” I said, my voice soft. “Don’t keep Isabelle waiting. It’s hard for her, raising a child alone.” I hung up before he could respond. Noah looked up at me. “Mommy, are we not going to the hospital?” I knelt and wiped the tear tracks from his face. “We are. But we have to wait for the right moment.” I knew better than anyone that Alex responded to honey, not vinegar. In my last life, my aggressive stance had only pushed him further away. This time, I would play his game. I would make him hand me the knife himself. Sure enough, ten minutes later, Alex called back. His voice was a little hoarse. “Ava, I’ve already contacted the hospital. I spoke to them about the donor heart. You can go now, just ask for Dr. Wright.” I feigned hesitation. “Alex… won’t this be too much trouble for you?” He cut me off impatiently. “What trouble? Noah is my son. You two go ahead. I’ll be there as soon as Finn’s check-up is done.” I sneered internally, but my voice was full of gratitude. “Okay, I’ll take Noah right now.” I hung up, scooped Noah into my arms, and ran out the door. At the hospital, Dr. Wright looked surprised to see me. “Mrs. Collins? What are you doing here?” I was still catching my breath. “Alex said he arranged for the donor heart. He told me to bring Noah in to be admitted.” Dr. Wright’s expression shifted. “But… Ms. Isabelle just brought her son, Finn, in. She said Mr. Collins arranged for the heart to be given to him…” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My arms, holding Noah, began to tremble. “Dr. Wright, please, check again. My husband clearly said…” “Ava, what are you making a scene about now?” Alex’s angry voice cut through the air. He strode toward us, Isabelle holding Finn’s hand behind him. Finn stuck his tongue out at me. My eyes burned. “Alex, you said the heart was for Noah…” He frowned. “When did I say that? I said I would help you make the arrangements. The hospital evaluated the situation and determined that Finn’s condition is more critical.” My voice was raw. “What critical condition? He looks perfectly healthy!” Isabelle’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Ava, I know you don’t like us, but Finn is only six. How can you wish him ill?” Alex looked at me with disapproval. “Look at yourself. You can’t even show a little compassion for a child?” “Another heart will be available within two weeks. Noah’s condition is unstable right now anyway. It’s better for him to rest and get stronger before the surgery.” Dr. Wright nodded in agreement. I looked down at Noah in my arms. His face was pale, but he wrapped his arms around my neck. “It’s okay, Mommy. We can wait.” Wait. The word was a dagger in my heart. In my last life, waiting had brought me nothing but his death certificate. I heard myself say, “Fine. We’ll wait.” Alex seemed to relax, his tone softening. “That’s better. Take Noah home for now. I’ll stay with Isabelle and Finn while he gets a full work-up.” Isabelle spoke up timidly. “Alex, won’t this be too much trouble for you? I think Ava is upset…” Alex glanced at me. “She’s not upset. She’s the most understanding person I know.” With that, he led Isabelle and her son into the examination room. I stood in the corridor, holding Noah. Sunlight streamed through the window, but all I felt was cold. The next few days were quiet. Alex came home every night. He even brought Noah a gift—a remote-controlled car. He ruffled Noah’s hair. “Daddy’s been busy with work. You have to understand.” Noah nodded obediently, then immediately stuffed the car into a storage bin. He whispered to me, “Mommy, this is the car Finn got tired of. I’ve seen it before.” I stroked his hair and said nothing. On Friday afternoon, when I went to pick Noah up from kindergarten, I noticed the teacher looking at me strangely. Finn was surrounded by a group of kids, shouting, “My aunt is so mean! My uncle said she’s going to find a new daddy for my cousin and get rid of my uncle!” Noah stood in a corner, his face flushed, his small fists clenched. He suddenly charged forward. “That’s not true! My mommy would never!” Finn shoved him. “You’re just a bastard nobody wants! My uncle said your mommy is a slut!” Noah staggered back, then suddenly clutched his chest, his face turning a frightening shade of blue. I ran out. “Noah!” He collapsed into my arms, his lips purple, his body convulsing. I screamed, “Somebody call an ambulance!” Through a haze of pain, Noah gripped my collar. “Mommy… don’t cry…” Just as the ambulance arrived, Alex rushed over. “What happened?” I ignored him and climbed into the ambulance. But Finn ran to Alex and grabbed his hand. “Uncle, my cousin is being so scary. Do you think he’s faking it?” Isabelle had arrived too, dressed in a patient’s gown, leaning weakly against the doorframe. “Alex, I’m so scared…” Alex hesitated for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back. So this was his choice. In the emergency room, the doctor’s face was grim. “His heart is under too much strain. He needs surgery immediately. We can’t wait any longer.” “Then do it!” I said. “But we don’t have a suitable donor heart right now,” the doctor said, looking helpless. I grabbed Alex’s sleeve. “Use the one on the schedule! You said one would be here in two weeks! Use it now!” His voice rose sharply. “I said it was scheduled! That doesn’t mean you can just steal it from someone else!” Isabelle’s soft voice drifted over. “Ava, that heart is someone else’s lifeline. How could you…” Alex cut her off before she could finish. “Enough! Ava, look at you! Do you even look like a mother right now?” He turned on me, his voice harsh. “The reason Noah is like this today is because you don’t know how to take care of a child!” I stared at him, stunned. “Starting tomorrow, I’m taking over Noah’s care,” he declared. “You need to calm down and think about what you’ve done.” I clutched Noah’s gurney. “No! On what grounds…” “On the grounds that I am his father!” he roared. “Ava, you have disappointed me beyond words.” From the bed, Noah’s eyes fluttered open. “Daddy…” he whispered weakly. Alex went to his side, taking his hand. “It’s okay, son. Daddy’s here.” Noah’s eyes were clear. “Daddy, don’t blame Mommy. It was my fault.” Alex’s expression softened. “I know, son. Daddy knows.” Isabelle spoke up again, her eyes red. “Alex, maybe Finn and I should just leave. It seems like our being here is upsetting Ava.” Without looking away from Noah, Alex said, “Leave? Why would you leave? This is a hospital, not her house.” “But…” He turned to me, a sneer on his face. “Ava, go home. You’re just causing trouble here.” I took a deep breath and looked at my son. He gave me a tiny shake of his head, his small hand making a little “it’s okay” gesture. I closed my eyes and walked away. Behind me, I heard Isabelle’s gentle voice. “Alex, are you tired? Let me go get you a coffee…” “No, you stay with Finn.” “But I want to be with you.” I quickened my pace, almost running from the hospital. Back home, I stood in the shower, letting the hot water run over my face, unable to tell if it was water or tears. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex: [Noah’s condition has stabilized.] I stared at the words for a long time before replying: [Thank you for your hard work.] A moment later, another message came through: [Ava, Isabelle and her son have been through a lot. Try to be more understanding.] I laughed. Understanding. My understanding in my last life cost me my son. This time, I was done being understanding. The next morning, I made porridge and went to the hospital, but I stopped at the door to Noah’s room when I heard Isabelle’s voice. “Alex, you haven’t even shaved. Let me help you.” “That’s not necessary…” Her voice was as sweet as honey. “Don’t move. You’ve been up all night. It breaks my heart to see you so tired.” I pushed the door open. Isabelle was practically pressed against Alex, a razor in her hand. When he saw me, he immediately stood up. “Ava, what are you doing here?” “I brought Noah some breakfast,” I said, holding up the thermos. Isabelle shrank back like a startled rabbit. “Ava, please don’t misunderstand. I just saw how exhausted Alex was…” I smiled, my expression light and breezy. “Misunderstand what? We’re family. It’s only natural to take care of each other.” I poured the porridge into a bowl and handed it to Noah. “Here you go, sweetie. Mommy made your favorite chicken porridge.” Noah took it obediently and began to eat. For the next three days, I was the picture of a gracious, understanding wife. I visited Noah for exactly one hour each day, no more, no less. Alex’s behavior toward me grew stranger. It was as if he was waiting for me to explode, to fight with him, but I remained as calm as still water. On Thursday night, he came home, a rare occurrence. “Ava, we need to talk.” “Okay.” I put down the cookbook I was reading. “Isabelle, she…” “She has it tough,” I finished for him. “It’s only right that you take good care of her.” He stared at me. “Do you really think so?” I smiled sincerely. “Of course. We’re all family.” He was silent for a long time. “Noah’s surgery is scheduled for three days from now.” My fingers clenched for a second, then relaxed. Finally. “That’s wonderful,” I said. “Thank you for everything.” He searched my eyes for something, but apparently found nothing. “I will personally oversee Noah’s surgery.” I smiled, my eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you.” He turned and left, his retreat looking almost like a defeat. On Friday morning, I took the day off and arrived at the hospital early. Before Noah was wheeled into the operating room, he clutched my hand. “Mommy, I’m scared.” I kissed his forehead. “Don’t be. When you wake up, it will all be over.” “What about Daddy?” “Daddy will be here any minute,” I lied. Alex had promised he would be here, but he was nowhere to be seen. The operating room doors closed, and the red light flickered on. I sat on the bench, my palms sweating. Three hours later, the doors suddenly swung open. The head surgeon came out, his face grave. “Mrs. Collins, I’m sorry. We’ve had to pause the surgery.” I shot to my feet. “What do you mean?” He struggled to meet my eyes. “The donor heart… it was just reallocated.” “What do you mean, reallocated?” “Another patient’s condition became more critical. The hospital made the decision to prioritize them.” My voice became shrill. “And my son? He’s in there right now! His chest has been opened!” Sweat beaded on the surgeon’s forehead. “We… we can only close the incision for now and wait for the next donor heart.” “When will that be?” “Three months, at the earliest.” My vision went black. I nearly collapsed. Three months. Noah would never last that long.

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The rage in her eyes was instant, a terrifying electrical surge. I’d only brushed her arm by accident. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Bess’s voice was a whip-crack. “How dare you even think about touching what belongs exclusively to Sawyer?” Sawyer Maxwell. Her childhood sweetheart. Her idealized other. “You filthy, shameless thing, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!” She ordered her security detail to break my legs and then demanded I be branded with the word “WHORE” across my torso—a detail I won’t linger on, except to say the searing pain was a kinder memory than what came after. Then came the ransom: a $15 million fine for “emotional distress.” I became a ghost, working seven jobs—from Uber shifts to bar-backing—scrambling for every penny to repay the debt. Yet, my existence itself was a constant embarrassment to her. Finally, she had me locked in a security-coded, soundproofed room in the basement to “reflect.” It was dark, suffocating, and the constant white noise was designed to disorient. My son, Noah, seven years old and terrified, managed to sneak me out when the guard took a break. For that small act of courage, Bess had him stripped, brutally beaten, and then thrown to the Rottweilers. “The damn bastard! How dare he defy my orders! This is the consequence!” I watched, paralyzed, as Noah’s small body was savaged. I collapsed, crawling toward Bess, begging, my throat raw with apologies. I pleaded for a sliver of medicine, anything to save him. She simply sneered, tossing a new bill at me—a monstrous $200 million. “You two pathetic wastes of space owe me this much, and you have the gall to ask me for money?” Her eyes were cold, bored. “Clear this debt within twenty-four hours, or go plan a funeral for that little animal!” My heart turned to ash. I sold my blood for a few hundred dollars and crawled back home only to find Noah’s body already cold. At the exact same time, news ripped through the City’s Elite that my wife, Bess Sinclair, had spent a colossal sum—hundreds of millions—to host a global art exhibition for her beloved Sawyer. I clutched Noah’s broken remains. The tears were an avalanche. The grief was a blunt knife, carving bone-deep into my soul. In the sterile corner of the emergency room, my son lay still, lifeless in a pool of his own blood. His small body was covered in wounds, his face barely recognizable. I knelt beside him, hands shaking, wanting to hold him but afraid to cause more pain. A tidal wave of agonizing pain washed over me, threatening to drown me whole. Nurses and orderlies walked past, completely ignoring me, too busy sharing the latest gossip, their voices high-pitched and excited: “Oh my god, spending a fortune just to make her childhood sweetheart smile? Is this what real wealth looks like?” “Of course. Only a genius painter like Sawyer Maxwell is worthy of a top CEO like Bess Sinclair!” “Seriously, I’m weeping for someone else’s love story!” Their jarring, oblivious chatter felt like slow, deliberate torture. I touched the thin wad of cash in my pocket. Not enough to buy a decent urn. In my despair, I had no choice but to call Bess. After an interminable wait, her furious voice blared through the receiver: “Damon Kincaid! You actually have the nerve to call me!” “My punishment was a chance for you to correct yourself! Who gave you permission to run away?” “You damaged the lock on the room, so you owe me another fifteen million! If you don’t pay, I’ll have the guards find that little bastard and finish him off for good!” It was always a ridiculous reason. Always a new layer of humiliation. For seven years of marriage, Bess had invented endless ways to shame me. I was used to it, but then a man’s voice cut in, familiar and sickeningly smug: “Damon, old boy, you know you have to take your medicine when you mess up.” Sawyer. “Sister was merciful not to kill you. Can’t you just learn how to be a good boy for once?” A sharp, searing spike of pain pierced my heart. But for Noah, to bury my son, I ground my last fragments of dignity into dust. I spoke, my voice barely a whisper: “Please, lend me a thousand dollars more. I’ll find a way to repay you.” “I just want to bury No—” Bess’s shriek was hysterical, cutting me off: “Shut up! Don’t use that little animal as an excuse! Even dead, he’s not worth a single penny of mine!” “I’m warning you, if you don’t pay up, breaking your legs will be the least of your worries!” The roar nearly shattered my eardrum. I slid powerlessly to the floor, tears streaming down my face. Around me, the nurses’ laughter continued to ripple. On the large screen visible outside the window, a loop played: Bess and Sawyer in a lavish embrace, a sweet, triumphant kiss. In that moment, everything inside me died. I used my last cash, kneeling until my knees were bruised and my forehead bloody outside the funeral home. They finally, begrudgingly, agreed to cremate my son. The roaring fire consumed everything. It burned away the last vestige of hope I had left, reducing it all to dust. I couldn’t even afford the urn. I stripped the shirt from my back, wrapping my son’s ashes inside, and carried him home. The moment I pushed open the front door, the cloying, clashing scent of perfume and stale cologne hit me. I gagged, a primal wave of nausea hitting me, and stumbled toward what used to be Noah’s small bedroom. Clothes were scattered everywhere, expensive silk and leather shoes, tangling around my ankles. They felt like mocking chains, celebrating my failure. I shook them off, but the filthy trace of their affair clung to me. The pain was so sharp it made my whole body tremble. I fought to keep the sobs down, reaching under Noah’s bed to pull out a creased, worn photograph. In the picture, I was smiling, holding Noah tight. Behind us, Bess stood with her back turned, her expression distant. She had always been cold to him. This stolen shot was his only cherished possession, his only memory of his mother. All I could do now was let it accompany him on his final journey. I carefully placed the photo inside the wrapped ashes and prepared to leave. Footsteps echoed just outside the door. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Sinclair house dog. Did someone peel you off the floor and send you home?” Sawyer leaned against the doorframe, his eyes full of contempt. I looked at him coldly, offering no response, just tightening my hold on the bundle in my arms. His eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, reaching out to snatch the makeshift shroud. “What did you take!” I held on desperately. “Don’t touch my things!” Sawyer let out a dismissive laugh. “What in this house is yours, Damon? Nothing.” “Even your wife is mine. A man who’s useless as you are should just kill himself.” He lifted his chin, proudly exposing the fresh, crimson marks of intimacy on his neck. It was a blatant provocation. Normally, I would have fought him to the death. But now, all I wanted was to give my son a proper rest. I didn’t even lift my eyes, numbly trying to move past him and out the door. Sawyer suddenly erupted. He brutally kicked me hard in the lower back, yanked my hair, and tore the shirt—the bundle of ashes—from my grasp. “You dead weight! You don’t get to take anything of mine!” As he pulled, the shirt ripped, and the pale gray dust scattered across the hardwood floor. I let out a raw, desperate shriek, scrambling on my hands and knees, trying to gather the ashes with my bare fingers. A stiletto heel slammed down, crushing my hand. I followed the line of the leg up, meeting Bess’s gaze. She looked down at me, her eyes openly disgusted. “Damon Kincaid, you are truly repulsive.” Her icy voice was a razor blade slicing straight into my soul. I bit down hard, but the pain was too profound to articulate. Sawyer draped himself around Bess’s waist, feigning distress. “I just worried Damon might take something by mistake, but he suddenly lunged at me.” “I shouldn’t have interfered, I guess. After all, Damon is the man of the house… I deserve to be attacked.” I reached for the photo, my voice a painful, broken plea. “I’m sorry. I just want my things back.” “I promise I’ll disappear. I won’t ever appear in front of you again.” Bess’s eyes fell to the picture under her foot. She bent down, picked it up, and shook the ashes off it. The image of us became clear. She gave a small, light laugh, then, without a hint of hesitation, she tore it in half. “No!” I screamed, my eyes blazing with despair. “A useless piece of trash paper, and you treasure it so much. How pathetic.” The fragments drifted down, mimicking the pieces of my shattered heart. I raised my head, my throat hoarse. “Bess Sinclair, that was my son’s last memory! How could you destroy it?!” A flicker of doubt crossed Bess’s face. “Last memory?” I pushed myself up onto my knees, meeting her gaze, my lips trembling. “Noah is dead. Are you satisfied now?” A moment of heavy silence. I foolishly thought I might see a spark of remorse in her eyes. Instead, she laughed—a sudden, sharp bark of pure delight. “Good! That little mistake should never have existed.” “You weren’t actually expecting me to clean up his body, were you?” Her high, cutting laughter was a knife twisting in my heart. I froze. My vision blurred. A loud, ringing static filled my brain. Bess kept speaking, her words without a hint of human decency. “He’s dead, so what? Why are you telling me? Can I resurrect him?” “He had that idiot’s blood—your blood—in him. He was lower than a stray dog. He was a burden alive, and now he’s finally out of the way!” I covered my ears, desperate to block out the hateful sound. An endless, freezing coldness crept up from my feet. The last thread of hope I held snapped completely. She was truly incapable of guilt. Incapable of a single moment of regret. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Blood traced paths down my fingers. “Bess Sinclair, do you even have a heart?” “Noah was your own flesh and blood! He was so small, and he’d fall asleep clutching your photo, calling for his mother!” “What crime did he commit for you to hate him so much you wanted him dead?!” My words hung in the air. Bess’s hand lashed out, an open-palmed slap across my face. “Who do you think you are to lecture me?!” “You two pathetic leeches, you eat my food and wear my clothes, and you dare to defy me?” “His crime was having a useless father like you!” I held my burning cheek, a trickle of blood wetting my lip. Sawyer stepped forward, a smug look in his eyes, but feigned concern. “I’m so sorry, Damon. I honestly didn’t know you’d wrap ashes in a shirt.” “But a dead person’s remains are bad luck. Why don’t I help you clean it up?” He reached for a handheld vacuum. A surge of hot adrenaline hit me. I lunged at him. Before I could reach him, Bess’s kick caught me square in the chest. I went flying backward, landing hard, coughing up blood onto the floor. “You dare to touch Sawyer?” “If you ever lay a hand on him again, I will make you beg for death!” I gasped for air, clutching my chest. My eyes were filled with desolate emptiness. “Bess,” I choked out. “Let’s get divorced.” She laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke. “Divorce? While you still owe me money? You think you have the right?” “Until the debt is paid, you are not leaving the Sinclair estate!” I gritted my teeth, pushing off the floor through the blinding pain. My eyes were wet, but I refused to let the tears fall. The kind, gentle Bess I married had died in the past. It was a pathetic joke that until today, I’d still hoped that she might remember our good times and that we could somehow return to what we once were. Through my blurring vision, I looked at her, my tone utterly final. “Fine. I’ll pay.” The moment the words left my mouth, I grabbed the heavy, decorative letter-opener from the side table and plunged it into my abdomen. The sound of the blade tearing skin and muscle was sickeningly loud in the silent room. Bess frowned, her pupils suddenly widening. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood and looked at her, a bitter smile on my face. “If I use my organs to pay you back, will that be enough?” Bess froze for a second, then her face twisted in fresh anger. “Damon Kincaid, what the hell are you doing?!” “Don’t think this pathetic trick will make me feel sorry for you!” The intense pain was a fire scorching my insides, yet it was nothing compared to the complete devastation of my heart. My blood pooled on the floor. “Not enough? Then again!” As if I felt nothing, I yanked the blade out and aimed it toward my chest. Bess lunged forward, snatching the letter-opener away. She was furious. “Are you crazy! How much is your miserable life worth anyway?!” “I’m warning you, you owe me every penny, and you will pay it back!” Sawyer, who was cowering behind her, tugged timidly on her sleeve. Bess immediately turned, tenderly wiping a fleck of my blood from his face, before violently shoving me to the ground. “If you want to die, do it somewhere else! Don’t scare Sawyer!” I struggled to my feet, gathering the final trace of ashes and the torn photograph, clutching them to my chest. Holding my bleeding abdomen, I staggered toward the door. “Thank you for letting me leave. I’ll send the divorce papers once the debt is cleared.” Bess scoffed, her voice laced with final contempt. “You? A worthless piece of filth no one would buy even if you tried selling yourself? You’ll never clear the debt in eight lifetimes!” “You’ll come crawling back to beg me!” I said nothing more. I gave her one last, cold look. Biting back the pain to remain conscious, I left that gilded cage. Sawyer held Bess’s arm affectionately, pretending concern while his eyes wished me the worst. “Is he just leaving, Gen? Should we be worried?” Bess glanced at me, her tone dismissive. “Don’t worry. That parasitic coward is too afraid of death to actually die.” My body swayed in the biting cold wind. But it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I’m sorry, Noah. Your dad failed you… I stumbled down the street, two long trails of blood marking my path. Ignoring the horrified, confused stares of passersby, I crawled to the Organ Donation Center. Lying on the cold operating table, my consciousness began to fade. A fragile smile touched my lips. I’m sorry, son. I couldn’t protect you. Let your father use this broken body to ensure you rest in peace. … A week later, Sawyer Maxwell’s exhibition opened as planned. Watching the throng of people, Bess felt a strange unease. A cold, nagging feeling that she had overlooked something vitally important. “Bess, what’s wrong? You look awful.” Sawyer walked over, his face etched with worry. She squeezed his hand, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Maybe I’m just a little tired.” When she closed her eyes, a fleeting image of Damon, covered in blood, flashed in her mind. Just then, her phone vibrated. A jolt of pure panic went through her. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the device. The screen displayed a notification: a transfer of $15 Million.

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