Category: English

I was born a “Butterfly Child.” My skin is as fragile as a monarch’s wing—thin, translucent, and prone to tearing at the slightest touch. When my family’s estate crumbled into bankruptcy, I went to the only person who could save us: my husband, Colin. He was the king of the city’s tech scene, a man who built an empire on cold logic. Instead of a check, Colin took me to a dimly lit, high-end tattoo parlor in the Meatpacking District. He leaned against the leather chair, an arched brow mocking my desperation. “One million for every tattoo,” he said, his voice like silk over gravel. “How much do you need, Maya?” I knew this was his pound of flesh. He was punishing me because I’d dared to touch his precious little plaything, Lexi. I knew my skin couldn’t handle the needle. I knew it would be agony. But I nodded anyway. The first tattoo—a predatory, demonic sigil—was inked into the softest, most private skin of my thigh. I bit my tongue until it bled to keep from screaming. The second, the word “MINE” in jagged script, was carved into the small of my back. The ink mixed with a steady flow of blood that wouldn’t stop. By the time the tenth tattoo was finished, my body was a map of infection and trauma. My consciousness was slipping away into a grey haze. Colin didn’t stay to help me up. He simply tossed a thick stack of bills onto my trembling chest. Ten million Vietnamese Dong. In US dollars, it was barely four hundred bucks. This time, I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I gathered the crumpled bills and looked up at him with a ghost of a smile. “Thank you, Colin. This is enough.” Enough to buy my mother a decent urn. 01 As I reached for the last bill, Colin’s polished Oxford boot pinned my hand to the floor. “What did you call me?” He reached down, his fingers catching my chin in a bruising grip. “Usually, you’re so fond of calling me ‘husband.’ Why the change of heart?” The pain from my skin was like a thousand hot needles. I kept my eyes down. For the first time in our marriage, I didn’t look for the man I used to love. “Give me the divorce papers, Colin. I’ll sign them.” There was a time when a single tear from me would have broken him. But Colin’s eyes were cold, devoid of the tenderness that had once defined us. He chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. “Divorce? I spent years nursing you back to health, Maya. I didn’t fix you just to let some other man break you in.” He let go of my face as if he were bored. “From now on, you’re moving into the guest wing. Lexi is moving into the master suite. She’s delicate. She gets cold easily.” I didn’t fight him. I just nodded. I stumbled out of the tattoo shop, my thin coat fluttering in the biting Manhattan wind. I counted the money again. He’d given me an extra hundred. I turned back, intending to return it—I wanted nothing more from him than exactly what I’d ‘earned.’ But through the glass door, I heard the tattoo artist’s excited voice. “Mr. Sharon, the livestream just hit ten million viewers!” The world tilted. The air left my lungs. The shame hit me like a physical blow—the realization that my most private agony had been broadcast to the world. Every word etched into my skin felt a hundred times more painful now. I have Epidermolysis Bullosa. To the world, it’s a medical curiosity. To Colin, it used to be something he guarded with his life. He’d once spent three days in the rain outside a specialist’s office in Switzerland just to get me a consultation. He’d suppressed his own desires for eight years, never touching me for fear of hurting me. It wasn’t until my condition stabilized that we shared our first night together. He had held me like I was made of starlight, whispering, “I will protect you with my life, Maya. Always.” But then he met Lexi, a college athlete. She was vibrant, resilient, and unbreakable. She was everything I wasn’t. In their bed, he told her, “Lexi, I’d give my life for you.” Back in the shop, I heard Colin’s voice again, sharp and calculating. “Did you catch her face?” “No, sir. Per your instructions, we kept the camera below the neck. The ‘anonymous’ tag worked perfectly.” I fumbled with my phone, my fingers slick with blood. I found the link. The words on my body hadn’t been Colin’s choice. They were the results of a live poll. “Property,” “Used,” “Trash”… Filth. I was covered in verbal filth, and the screenshots were already viral. The internet was playing a guessing game: Who is the faceless girl with the butterfly skin? Colin’s shoulders relaxed. “If Maya would just learn to be obedient, I wouldn’t have to go to these lengths,” he said casually. “Lexi will see the screenshots. It’ll show her she’s the only one who matters. Maybe she’ll finally stop being mad at me.” I walked away into the freezing night. My husband knew better than anyone that my skin was at its limit. I could never endure the laser treatments to remove these tattoos. These scars—these insults—were my new permanent skin. I didn’t go back to the penthouse. I hailed a cab and gave the driver an address in a neighborhood Colin wouldn’t recognize. After the bankruptcy, my mother had moved from our estate into a “micro-apartment”—a five-by-five-foot room people in the city called a coffin flat. As the cab pulled up, I saw the flashing lights of an ambulance. Two paramedics were wheeling a gurney out. The figure on it was covered from head to toe in a white sheet. A cold dread settled in my marrow. My hand shook as I dialed my mother’s number. A split second later, the custom ringtone I’d recorded for her began to play from beneath that white sheet. 02 I lunged forward, ignoring the hands trying to hold me back, and yanked the sheet away. My mother’s eyes were wide, fixed in a final, frozen stare of terror. “No… no, she was fine. She was healthy!” I screamed, the sound tearing through the quiet street. The paramedic looked at me with a grimace of pity. “Looks like she swallowed a lethal dose of herbicide. Suicide.” I didn’t believe it. My mother loved me more than life itself. She wouldn’t leave me alone in this world. I found her phone in her coat pocket. There was an open message from an anonymous account. It was a link to a livestream. I collapsed onto the cracked pavement. The pain and the hatred swirled in my chest, choking me. It was me. I was the one who killed her. I found a note in her drafts. Just a few sentences. “Maya, don’t stay with a man who doesn’t love you just for my sake.” “My butterfly girl, leave this city. Find your wings. Find your freedom.” I wailed like a wounded animal over her body. Growing up, my skin was always a mess of blisters and raw patches. Other kids looked at me like I was a monster, something contagious and rotting. Only my mother would hold me, whispering, “You aren’t a monster, Maya. You’re my butterfly. If the world is too harsh for you, we’ll build our own world.” I’d fought so hard to be normal for her. I’d worked so hard to build a life. In middle school, Colin had been the one to fight off the bullies. He’d walked me home every day, even when it was miles out of his way. Back then, he was my light. I thought I’d found the only other person in the world who would protect me. When I graduated, I took the trust fund my mother had saved and invested every cent into Colin’s first startup. I bet everything on him. And I won. Or I thought I did. The day his company went public, Colin handed me the keys to a vintage Rolls Royce. In front of a swarm of reporters, he looked like a god—elegant, powerful, and utterly devoted. “Why such an expensive gift?” a journalist asked. Colin smiled, the cameras flashing in his eyes. “When I was nothing, she sat on the back of my moped and believed in me. I promised her then that one day, she’d only ever sit in the back of a Rolls. It’s time the world starts calling her Mrs. Sharon.” Then he knelt and slipped a diamond onto my finger. It was a fairy tale. The “Gold Standard” of New York romance. I stayed in the morgue all afternoon until the administrator’s voice snapped me back. “Mrs. Sharon, this card was declined too.” It was the last card I had. The man who once bought me mansions had frozen every single account to appease his mistress. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. I pulled out the crumpled Vietnamese bills, begging the man. “This is all I have. Please, just take care of her. I’ll get the rest, I promise.” The man looked at the colorful bills and scoffed. “This isn’t even enough for a deposit. Look, just call your husband. A man like Colin Sharon won’t even notice this amount.” I closed my eyes and unclasped the gold bangle from my wrist. “This is solid gold. It’s worth at least fifteen thousand. Please.” He took it greedily, testing it with his teeth. His face soured instantly. He slammed it onto the counter. “I called you ‘Mrs. Sharon’ out of respect, but you’ve got some nerve. Don’t come back here with fake gold.” 03 The bracelet Colin had bought me with his very first paycheck was bent out of shape on the counter. My tears fell onto the metal, washing away the tarnish to reveal the cheap iron underneath. A thin plating of gold over a heart of base metal. It was the perfect metaphor for our ten years together. His love had been a lie from the very beginning. I picked up the scrap metal and used my last few dollars to take a cab back to the penthouse. I stood outside the master bedroom. I could hear his voice through the door—lazy, satiated. “I can never really let go with her,” Colin was saying. “If I’m too rough, she bleeds all over the sheets. It ruins the mood.” “I’m much better, aren’t I?” Lexi’s voice was a purr. “You can do whatever you want to me.” I hammered on the door with everything I had left. “Colin! You murderer! You killed my mother!” There was a pause, a ragged breath. “Maya, I’m not bailing out your family’s firm,” Colin shouted back. “Stop using these pathetic lies for attention.” I was sobbing so hard I could barely stand. “I never lied to you! But you… even the gold you gave me was fake! Was anything ever real?” Colin hesitated for a second. “Maya, what the hell are you talking about…” I heard the sound of clothes rustling, but then the sound of a wet, needy kiss. “Colin, stay,” Lexi whispered. “I’m not finished with you yet.” “Fine. Anything you want.” No matter how hard I hit the door, no matter how much I screamed, it didn’t stop them. My agony seemed to be their aphrodisiac. The sounds from the room grew louder, more frantic. I curled into a ball on the cold marble floor, whispering his name like a prayer to a dead god. Colin… give him back. Give me back the boy who loved me. Hours later, the door finally opened. I looked past him into the room. Our wedding portrait hung over the bed. There were two damp handprints on the glass, right over our smiling faces. I knew exactly what they had been doing. Colin looked down at me, and for a fleeting second, something like guilt flickered in his eyes. He reached out as if to help me up. Lexi stepped out behind him and grabbed his hand, sliding it down to her stomach. “Colin, you’re so talented,” she smirked. “I’m only twenty-two. I’ll give you a son in no time. Not like Maya. She’s barely even a woman if she can’t even carry a child.” I stared at her, then at him. “You… you told me you had a vasectomy.” Colin’s gaze turned cold, piercing my heart. “I had it reversed, Maya. I have a legacy now. I need an heir.” The heart he had already broken was shattered into dust. If I hadn’t given him my inheritance, there would be no legacy. We had lost our first baby because my body couldn’t sustain the pregnancy. Colin had knelt in a chapel and sworn he never wanted children if it meant losing me. He’d bought me a St. Christopher charm, promising it would keep me safe forever. 04 I ripped the charm from my neck. The chain tore into my skin, beads of blood blooming instantly. “Take your protection back.” “Maya, I’m not kidding. I was wrong to ever believe your promises.” He didn’t even look at the blood. He gestured to a maid who was holding a tray. “You’re bleeding again. Drink your medicine.” Before I could react, he gave me a cruel, thin smile. “Don’t die in my house, Maya. I’m not letting you turn this place into a crime scene.” I felt a surge of pure, hot rage. I slapped the tray out of his hand. “My mother is dead because you sent her that link! You froze my cards so I couldn’t even afford to bury her!” The slap he gave me in return was deafening. “Maya, stop it! You’d lie about your own mother’s death just for money? How low can you go?” We stood there, staring at each other. The boy with the red eyes who used to cry when I got a paper cut was gone. In his place was a monster with a heart of stone. The silence was broken when a pair of black lace underwear was tossed onto the floor in front of me. They were stained and foul. Lexi leaned against Colin’s arm. “Colin, can Maya wash these for me? I’m so sore, I can barely lift my arms.” When I didn’t move, Colin sighed and rubbed his temples. “Go wash her clothes. Ten thousand dollars for every piece you clean.” “Maya, stop using your mother’s name to con me. If you want money, earn it.” To save my mother from a pauper’s grave, I swallowed my pride. I knelt and picked up the clothes, one by one. When I finished in the laundry room, Lexi was waiting for me in the hallway. “I can give you enough to save your family’s firm from liquidation,” she said, waving a piece of paper. “Just sign the divorce papers.” I stared at the signature at the bottom. “How did you get him to sign this?” Ever since she appeared, I had begged Colin for a divorce, unable to bear the betrayal. He had always refused, preferring to keep me trapped. Lexi shrugged. “I told him I wanted a beach house in the Hamptons. Twenty million dollars. He signed the papers without even looking at the fine print.” Colin wouldn’t give my mother a cent to save her life’s work, but he gave Lexi a twenty-million-dollar vacation home on a whim. I gritted my teeth. “Fine. I’ll sign.” Lexi led me to the garage. “Get in. Let’s go get your money.” But minutes later, I realized we weren’t heading to a bank. We were heading toward the industrial docks. I pounded on the window, screaming for her to stop. A hand came from the back seat, pressing a chemically-soaked rag over my mouth. Everything went black. When I woke up, a sharp pain in my knees forced me to realize I was kneeling on a concrete floor. Lexi used the toe of her designer heel to tilt my chin up. “Maya, do you have any idea how many people are looking for you?” Terror flooded my veins. Lexi turned to the group of men standing in the shadows of the warehouse. “Here she is. The great Colin Sharon’s wife. Well, ex-wife. He signed the papers. She’s nothing now.” She stepped back. “Do whatever you want with her.” The men stepped forward. They were rough, angry. I recognized their uniforms—they were the laborers from my family’s construction sites. I begged them, telling them I was sorry. They spat at me. “Your mother skipped out on two months of wages! We have families to feed!” “My mother is dead!” I shrieked. “Don’t you dare talk about her!” The men laughed, a sound like grinding glass. “If she’s dead, then you’ll have to pay her debts with your body.” Their hands, caked with dirt and grease, reached for me like serrated blades. I curled into myself, crying, bleeding. I was that little girl again, being bullied on the playground. But this time, my hero wasn’t coming. They ripped my dress. When they saw the tattoos, their eyes lit up with a sick excitement. “Hey! This is the girl from the livestream! Come on, boys, let’s see what Sharon’s leftovers taste like!” I sobbed, my sweat mixing with the blood on my skin. My phone, lying on the floor, began to vibrate. I lunged for it, my nails leaving ten bloody tracks on the concrete. Lexi snatched it away and ended the call. She looked at me with chilling indifference. “Give it up, Maya. Who’s left to save you?” She walked out and locked the heavy steel door from the outside. That night, Colin called again. No answer. He opened his GPS tracking app. The signal was pinging from a notorious red-light district near the docks. For money, she’d even go there? He floored the accelerator. As he stepped into the dark alleyway, two men in work clothes brushed past him. “Man, that little bird was something else,” one of them whispered. “Those tattoos… I wanted to sink into every single one of them.” Colin froze. His eyes turned a violent, bloodshot red.

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At the bar, my assistant Chloe was crying her eyes out over a breakup. Someone chimed in to comfort her: “Who hasn’t had a trash ex? Let’s have a contest. Who has the most embarrassing ex? Maybe that will make Chloe feel better.” The girls started throwing out their horror stories: “I dated a guy who was obsessed with feet. It was his whole personality.” “I dated a guy who was so cheap, he made me Venmo him for the gas used to drive to my house.” “I dated a guy who wore a fedora unironically in 2023.” The atmosphere heated up. Suddenly, someone turned to me. “Harper, you’ve been quiet. What about you? You must have a past.” I stared at the amber liquid in my glass, feeling a bit buzzed. “I have one.” Everyone leaned in, interested. “You have such high standards. You turned down CEO Preston last month. Your ex must have been a god, right?” I sniffled. I glanced at a tall figure working behind the bar in the distance. I looked away and said indignantly, “He was an old man.” The group gasped. “Like… a silver fox? A billionaire daddy?” I shook my head. “A thug. Uneducated. Bad temper. And he did time in prison.” The group was stunned. “So… he must have treated you like a queen, right?” I suddenly remembered that summer five years ago. His voice was cold as ice. Harper, I’m done with you. We’re done. Leave and don’t come back. Treat me like a queen? Hardly. I downed my drink, my throat burning. “He was a scumbag.” “I moved in with him when I was sixteen. We were together for four years, and in the end, he dumped me.” The table erupted in sympathy. “Damn, Harper, you win.” “That’s not just an ex, that’s a criminal record.” “You really lowered your standards for that one.” Chloe wiped her tears, curious. “But Harper… did he at least save your life or something?” My eyes drifted back to that figure in the shadows. “Yeah,” I whispered. “He saved my life.” 1 When I was sixteen, my stepmother sold me. The buyer was rumored to be a killer fresh out of prison. I was dragged to a run-down house by an old woman—his grandmother—and pushed in front of a tall man. “Jax, this is the wife I found you.” The man was tall, with sharp brows and eyes that looked like they could cut glass. He looked terrifying. “Nana, have you lost your mind? That’s a child.” The fixer standing next to us laughed nervously. “She’s sixteen, a real beauty. Let her do housework for two years. When she’s legal, you get a marriage license.” Jax cursed, his voice like thunder. “Get out! I’m not an animal!” I stood there, trembling, not knowing what to do. The fixer got desperate. “You’ve got a record, Jax! Who else is going to marry you? Your grandma saved every penny to get you a wife. Her family already took the cash!” Jax walked up to me. The air around him dropped ten degrees. “Where do you live?” I whispered the address of the trailer park. He turned around, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me out the door. The “return” process was violent. My stepmother didn’t want to give the money back. She stood on the porch, screaming. “You took the goods! Who knows if she’s still clean! No refunds on used goods!” I stood there, humiliated, wishing the ground would swallow me. My father sat on the steps, smoking, saying nothing. Jax picked up a beer bottle from the trash and smashed it against the porch railing. “Nobody told you? I just got out for manslaughter.” He pointed the jagged glass at them. “Want to make it two?” My stepmother screamed and threw the envelope of cash at him. He turned to leave. As soon as he stepped off the porch, my stepmother slapped me across the face. “Useless trash! Now we have to find another buyer! The guy in the next town only offered eight grand!” I shook violently. I didn’t know what kind of hell awaited me next. On the drive back, I had thought about ending it. Jumping out of the car. But I was a coward. I was sixteen. I wanted to live. I wanted to go to school. Suddenly, the front door was kicked open. Jax was back. He didn’t say a word. He threw the envelope of money back into my stepmother’s face. Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of that house. “Is that your biological mother?” he asked, his voice shaking with rage. “No,” I stammered. “But… my dad is real.” He cursed under his breath. “Wait here.” He went back inside. I heard my father scream. I don’t know why, but the tears finally broke through. Being sold, being hit—I was numb to it. But in that moment, standing in the dirt driveway, I cried. I followed him to his beat-up truck, tears streaming down my face. “Why are you crying?” His tone was still harsh. “You were tough enough a minute ago.” I didn’t speak. He scratched his head aggressively, messing up his hair. “Fine. Just… come home with me for now.” 2 I was brought back to Jax’s house. The neighbors gossiped. “Hey Jax, brought the wife back?” He pulled me behind him, blocking their view. “Shut your mouth. She’s my sister.” That night, Nana cooked a feast, but she kept sighing. “I wanted you to have a wife, and you brought back a sister. How am I going to get you married now?” Jax rolled his eyes. “Nana, stop it. I’m not a predator.” At the dinner table, the old lady kept piling food onto my plate. “Eat up. You’re too skinny, child.” That night, I ate until I couldn’t move. The house was small. Two bedrooms. Nana had one, Jax had the other. He partitioned a corner of his room with plywood, set up a narrow cot and an old desk. Nana gave me clean sheets. Outside the window, wildflowers were blooming in the moonlight. Before this, I slept on a dirty mattress in a storage closet. Now, I had a bed. I lay on the hard mattress, unable to sleep. I could hear Jax breathing on the other side of the plywood. It was strangely comforting. The next morning, Jax knocked on the wood. “Get up. We’re going to school.” I sat up, confused. “School?” “What else? You’re sixteen. If you don’t go to school, what are you gonna do?” My nose stung. I could go to school? After breakfast, he rolled out a rusty motorcycle and drove me to the local high school. Jax stood in the principal’s office, tucking in his shirt, hiding his tattoos. “This is my sister. We need to register her.” From that day on, I really had a “brother.” Jax was famous in that part of town. The head of the thugs. He had killed a man (in a fight), served time. People said he ran the underground. Nobody messed with him. I used to be the quiet girl everyone bullied. Now, when people saw me, they respectfully called me “Miss Harper.” The first time we had a parent-teacher conference, Jax came. He wore all black, looking like a hitman sitting on a tiny classroom chair. After the meeting, he ruffled my hair, grinning like an idiot. “Damn. First time I’ve ever been praised in a school. You make me look good, kid.” 3 Jax was rarely home during the day. Nana was worried. “Harper, keep an eye on him. Don’t let him do anything stupid.” I became his shadow. Wherever Jax went, I went. He hated it. “Go home. This isn’t a place for kids.” “Are you sleeping around?” I asked angrily. He glared at me. “Where did you learn those words?” “You’re doing bad things.” TV taught me that nightclubs were dens of sin. He worked security at a club. I sat in the corner doing my homework. If a girl tried to flirt with him, I stared her down. Jax eventually grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to the exit. “Go home.” “Nana said to watch you.” “Watch me what? Watch me fight? Watch me bounce drunks? Watch me smoke?” I bit my lip. “Don’t be bad.” He froze, then laughed bitterly. “Harper, I’ve been bad for a long time.” “Do you like that lady?” I asked, pointing at a woman with wavy hair who kept eyeing him. He pulled my ponytail. “Harper, you’re a little gossip machine.” Riding home on his motorcycle, the wind roaring in my ears, I grabbed his shirt tight. “Jax, do you have someone you like?” He was silent for a long time. “I did.” “Where is she?” “She ran off with someone else.” Her name was Vanessa. I met her once. Tall, beautiful, driving a red convertible parked at the end of our alley. She came to find Jax. Jax wasn’t home. Nana, usually so kind, slammed the door in her face. Nana told me the story. They were high school sweethearts. But Vanessa’s dad was a gambler who owed money to sharks. The sharks came for Vanessa. Jax stepped in, fought them, and one of them died. Jax went to prison. Everyone thought Vanessa would wait. In his third year inside, she married a wealthy business owner. “Jax wanted to join the Marines,” Nana said, wiping her eyes. “Instead he got a record and lost everything. He never says a word, but I know it kills him.” Vanessa wouldn’t leave. I grabbed the gift basket she brought and threw it into the street. “You think money fixes this? Jax has a record for life because of you! Who pays for that?” Vanessa looked pale. “I didn’t have a choice…” “You’re married! Have some dignity and leave!” Jax was standing behind me, arms crossed. He chuckled. “Alright, Harper. You got a temper.” I sniffled, eyes red. “Rich people think they’re so great.” He rubbed my head. “It’s fine.” I still felt awful. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be thrown away. Who was going to pay for his ruined life? 4 We were poor, but the house was warm. Jax worked nights. Nana and I did handicrafts to sell. When he got paid, we ate meat. He gave me allowance. I saved it. One day, I took the money to the mall and bought a box of men’s brand-name boxers. I shoved the box at him, my face burning. “Your underwear on the clothesline has holes in it…” He paused for two seconds. “Nobody sees them but me. You manage a lot for a kid.” “Has… nobody seen them?” I asked without thinking. He narrowed his eyes and pinched my cheek. “Harper, get your mind out of the gutter. Your brother doesn’t sleep around!” He looked at the box, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He lay on the couch playing on his phone while I did homework on the coffee table. Once, he dug through my backpack and found a few love letters. His face went black. “Harper, what is this?” “Someone gave them to me.” “Who? Which little punk wants to die?” “Jax! I rejected them! I brought them home to use as scrap paper for math.” He looked serious. “Focus on school. No dating.” Those two years were the brightest of my life. I had a Nana, a protector, a clean bed. I was full, safe, and happy.

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I was notorious in the city of Portside for being “the impossible catch.” A sales associate at a high-end boutique, being pursued by the city’s most eligible bachelor, yet I played hard to get at every turn. Liam Hawthorne, the Portside “Prince,” would clear out my counter every month to boost my sales, but I’d immediately credit the commission to a colleague. When a stalker chased me, he didn’t hesitate to shield me from a knife attack; I, however, coldly abandoned him in the dark alley and walked away. Even when he defied his family for me, and was given the brutal, infamous ninety-nine lash strokes as punishment; I was out flashing a seductive smile, hooking up with a new, equally wealthy, man. Everyone said Liam was blinded, utterly foolish to be obsessed with a gold-digger like me. But my truth was, I was a cop. My role as a sales associate was a deep cover to get close to the crime boss, Victor Franklin, and investigate a horrific string of murders. Liam’s appearance had completely derailed all my plans. I fought him off with every cruel word I knew, but he wouldn’t quit. Just as I finally made contact with Victor Franklin, Liam would interfere, ruining the connection. I was ready to pull out, but my superiors suggested a pivot: play along with Liam, and use his access to penetrate Victor Franklin’s inner circle. And so, I started a relationship with Liam Hawthorne. Two years flew by. My mission had gone nowhere. And now, Liam had a new love. 1 I was half-kneeling, fitting a customer with a new pair of designer heels, when the photo of Liam and his new flame kissing hit the top trending list. The mall’s giant video screen was broadcasting the gossip news. A reporter deliberately prodded, “Mr. Hawthorne, you once declared Ms. Sylvia the most beautiful woman in Portside and nearly broke with your father for her. Are you truly done with her now?” Liam swirled a glass of red wine, a cold, dismissive smirk playing on his lips. “No matter how beautiful, I’ve had my fill. I’m sick of the sight of her.” My fingers twitched, nearly knocking over the shoe box. The client glanced around, then leaned in, whispering, “Agent Starling, you’ve been undercover with Liam for two years, and you’ve found nothing. Now that he’s moved on, why don’t you extract and rejoin the squad?” I thought of the photos I’d seen in the tabloids. Liam, the usually aloof and distinguished heir, was squeezed into a bustling, noisy street-food stall with this other girl. He was slightly turned, shielding her from the crowd, his eyes and the curve of his smile full of unconcealed affection. The moisture in my eyes slowly receded, leaving them cold and sharp. “Not yet. His sudden change of heart might just be the opening I need to break the case.” Before I could finish, a perfectly synchronized chorus of: “Mr. Hawthorne!” erupted at the doorway. Liam walked in, leading a young woman. She was dressed simply, with wide, clear, yet stubborn, fawn-like eyes. This was Chloe Young, the new girl he was completely infatuated with. “You,” he pointed at me, his voice flat, like he was addressing a stranger. “Come over and pick out an evening gown for Chloe.” I paused for a moment, then plastered on a professional smile and walked toward them. Chloe was already looking through the racks. When she wasn’t looking, Liam grabbed my arm and hissed under his breath, “If you let Chloe catch a whiff of what we were, you won’t be able to stay in this city.” I nodded, my smile unwavering. Chloe clearly wasn’t from this world. She was uncomfortable with the attentive service of a luxury sales associate. When I reached behind her to tie the laces of the gown, she flinched and quickly pulled away, “No, no, I can do it myself.” But she fumbled with the ribbon several times, unable to smooth the satin into a neat bow. Liam watched her clumsy attempts and suddenly laughed out loud. He stepped forward, his fingers expertly tying a perfect bow. Then, he dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “Beautiful, babe, truly beautiful.” Chloe’s face flushed crimson. Watching that scene, I felt a sharp blade twisting in my chest. I dug my nails into my palms, fighting back the tears. You are a detective. Your duty is to protect this city, not cry over a man. I repeated the mantra silently. But the next morning, the headline, ‘Hawthorne Heir Takes New Lover, Ms. Sylvia’s Beauty Withers in Sorrow,’ was trending. Liam’s mother, Mrs. Evelyn Hawthorne, summoned me to the family estate. Stepping into the courtyard, I saw Liam kneeling by the main entrance. His dress shirt was ripped from a whipping, and the bloody welts were horrifying. His father, Mr. Richard Hawthorne, was pointing at him, roaring: “You cut off ties with those low-life women immediately and get back with Starling! Or I’ll beat you to death!” Mrs. Hawthorne was also tearfully pleading, “Liam, Starling carried your child, and then you—you tormented her so badly. Everyone in Portside knows she’s your woman! You can’t just abandon her…” Liam held his neck stiff, refusing to yield, and looked up at his father. “Then kill me. Even in death, my soul belongs with Chloe.” I stared at his rigid back. It brought back the memory of a year ago, when he had stood against his father just like this, for me. He had even gone on a hunger strike for three days, and jumped from the second floor, willing to limp just to escape and see me. Back then, looking at the bruised and broken Liam, all I could think was: Liam, when this mission is over, I will tell you everything, and we will be together forever. Now, the scene was a mirror image, but my heart was utterly cold. Fortunately, my mission was due to end in less than a month. After that, I would disappear from his world forever. I stepped forward and took Mr. Hawthorne’s arm. “Uncle, please stop. Hitting him won’t help. This is between us. Let us resolve it, okay?” Mr. Hawthorne gasped, pulling back his hand, and said with pained sincerity, “Starling, you are the only daughter-in-law we recognize.” I offered a slight smile. “Uncle, we will talk properly. Please, rest first.” Mr. Hawthorne entered the house, still looking worried. I helped Liam sit down and asked a maid to bring a first-aid kit. Just as I reached out to treat his wounds, he frowned and refused. “I’ll do it myself.” My hand hung in the air, and a bitter smile touched my lips. That was Liam. When he loved someone, it was with his whole heart, with no room for anyone else. Liam expertly cut his shirt away and started to disinfect and dress his own wounds. He sneered, “Starling Sylvia, don’t think for a second that winning over my parents means I’ll take you back. I’m tired of you…” I smiled faintly. “I know.” The three words were so calm they momentarily choked Liam into silence. I continued, “But you also know that because of you, my reputation is ruined. Mr. Hawthorne, you owe me compensation.” He gave me a cold side-eye. “How much money do you want?” “Five million, and an invitation to the Heavenly Gate Gala.” The Heavenly Gate Gala was a high-end private event hosted by Victor Franklin. I had a strong suspicion that the missing girls and the actresses whose deaths were ruled as accidents were all somehow connected to this gathering. Liam’s eyebrows furrowed deeper. “Why do you want to go to the Heavenly Gate Gala?” I shrugged. “To find a new rich man, of course. Since you don’t want me, I have to find a replacement, don’t I?” Liam looked stunned, then rage flared across his face. “Starling Sylvia, I never knew you were so vulgar.” “I’m certainly not as pure and innocent as your Ms. Young,” I met his gaze calmly. “Mr. Hawthorne, you promised to compensate me. You wouldn’t break your word, would you?” Liam’s eyes were bloodshot, and he ground the words out, “You’ll get the invitation by the end of the month. Go if you want. But don’t come crawling back to me when you run into trouble.” I looked at him, my smile light and clear. “Don’t worry. Even if I die alone in a ditch, I won’t come back and beg you.” Liam stared at my relieved smile, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Starling Sylvia, did you ever love me at all?” I hesitated slightly. “Why do you ask?” “If you loved me, how could you be planning to find a new man so quickly after I broke up with you?” “If that’s what you choose to believe, then that’s the answer.” I dropped the line, turned decisively, and walked away, terrified that if I stayed a second longer, he would see the tears welling up in my eyes. How could I not have loved him? If I hadn’t, why would I have stayed by his side for two years with no progress on the case? If I hadn’t, why would I have become pregnant with his child, and then, fearing it would implicate the Hawthorne family, painfully chose to end the pregnancy? But it was all in the past. Our beginning was a mistake. We were destined to be strangers, star-crossed and without a future. 2 After that day, Liam and I officially broke up. Soon, my former colleagues, who had always resented me, began to ostracize me. I was forced to attend increasingly seedy business functions. After downing glass after glass of hard liquor, my head spinning, I excused myself to the restroom and escaped to the hallway. From the adjacent private room, I heard a familiar voice: “I’ll drink this for Chloe. Don’t make it hard on her.” “The new sister-in-law is pretty, alright. Got our Liam all protective. But I wonder whose bed skills are better, hers or the former Ms. Sylvia’s?” Another playboy laughed. “Definitely the Sylvia beauty. And that waist, those curves…” Liam spat out a curse, his tone suddenly serious. “Shut up. Chloe is a good girl. If you dare say another dirty word like that, I’ll rip your mouths off.” Everyone knew Chloe was the apple of his eye and dared not joke any further. Listening from outside, I felt a sandstorm rage in my heart, dark and suffocating. Six months ago, soon after I recovered from the miscarriage, Liam would drag me to clubs and parties. He would aggressively kiss me and tear at my clothes in front of his friends. Balconies, luxury cars, public parks… he never cared about my reputation, taking me whenever and wherever he pleased. Once, at a villa party outside the city, he pinned me against the transparent floor-to-ceiling window… His friends were downstairs in the yard, playing cards, and they all saw me clearly when they looked up. Liam had never once scolded his friends for me. He had never once said that I was a good girl. Maybe, in his heart, I was nothing more than a vulgar, gold-digging sales associate. I managed a bitter, self-mocking smile and was about to leave. The door to the private room opened, and I bumped right into Liam. Our eyes locked, and silence fell between us. Then, a clear female voice broke the tension. “Liam Hawthorne! Why didn’t you call me when you came out?” Chloe Young hurried over. When she saw me, her face instantly soured. “Liam, you lied to me! You said you’d cut all ties with your ex!” With that, she turned and ran toward the elevator without a second glance. Liam panicked, yelling “Chloe!” and chasing after her without a moment of hesitation. I even heard him say, “What ex? She was just a casual plaything. Don’t think too much about it.” Plaything. So, for two years, I was just a game to him. It made sense. If it wasn’t just a game, why would he have treated me so carelessly? I offered a self-deprecating smile, my eyes filled with quiet despair. 3 The next day at work, the store manager gravely called me into her office and turned her laptop screen toward me. The screen showed an incredibly explicit photo. The manager pointed at the woman in the picture and struggled to speak. “Starling, is this… is this you?” I felt a sudden drop, as if I’d been plunged into an ice bath. My whole body went cold. It was a photo taken six months ago when Liam insisted on having me in the car, and a paparazzo snapped the shot. Liam had paid a hefty sum to buy the photo, storing it on his phone. I had begged him to delete it, but he said, “Starling Sylvia, if you dare to leave me, I’ll let everyone see what you look like.” But now, he was the one who had changed his mind, yet he still released the photo. The manager sighed, looking at my ashen face. “The photo has been mass-emailed to many colleagues. It’s spreading like wildfire. We’ve decided to put you on immediate leave. Go home and wait for notice.” I understood. As the photo spread, countless strangers would see this humiliating part of me. Even my colleagues at the police department. My reputation was utterly destroyed. Portside was no longer a place for me. Thankfully, the Heavenly Gate Gala was next week. Once the mission was complete, I would request a transfer and never return. … A week passed quickly. Holding the invitation Liam gave me, I walked into the Franklin family mansion. To my surprise, Liam was there, too. He strode up to me, his cold gaze raking over me. “You actually came? That desperate to find a new man?” He leaned in, his voice full of malicious intent. “Who doesn’t know you’ve been used up by me? What decent family would want you?” I shot him a look. “Thanks to you, everyone knows I’m great in bed. Your friends are lining up to ask me out.” Liam’s face darkened, and he grabbed my wrist. “This isn’t the place for you. I’ll give you more money, enough for the rest of your life. Leave now.” I had a feeling Liam knew something. “Liam Hawthorne, are you by any chance…” “Liam!” Chloe Young rushed over, clutching his arm and pulling him away from me. “You promised me you wouldn’t get mixed up with her again!” Liam’s face stiffened. “Chloe, I…” Chloe’s eyes welled up, and she turned and fled. Liam instantly ran after her, calling her name, without a moment of hesitation. But he couldn’t help glancing back, throwing me a look of extreme complexity. It was a warning, yet mixed with a trace of pleading. I sighed with relief when they left. I subtly observed my surroundings. When no one was looking, I quietly headed up the stairs to the top floor. Around the corner, two hulking bodyguards stood before a thick, ornately carved wooden door. I pretended to be drunk, swaying as I approached them. The bodyguards, unconcerned, reached out to steady me. “Miss, this isn’t where you’re supposed to be.” My wrist flipped, and a tranquilizer dart found its mark in one man’s neck. The other’s eyes widened in alarm. As he opened his mouth to shout, I delivered a sharp, clean strike to the back of his neck. They fell silently. I quickly fumbled a key from one of their pockets and opened the heavy door. What I saw inside chilled me to the bone. Handcuffs, leather whips, iron cages… and a huge surveillance screen. I finally understood. This so-called gala was a feast that consumed one living girl after another. Before midnight, it was a typical high-society gathering. After midnight, Victor Franklin would invite his carefully selected members to abuse these unfortunate young women. This kind of ‘game’ inevitably led to deaths. Girls without connections were quickly disposed of, their bodies dumped. The high-profile ones, like the actresses, were framed as suicides or accidents to fool the public. He even recorded the whole process to entertain himself and his friends. And this was only the tip of the iceberg. A crime spree of this magnitude had to involve a vast network for sourcing victims and a deep, dark money-laundering chain. My hands trembling, I copied all the evidence. With the files secured, I hurried out of the room of sin. But the moment I opened the door, an alarm blared. Victor Franklin must have discovered the intrusion. I rushed downstairs, only to find all the exits of the banquet hall sealed. The guests whispered in panic, and the room grew restive. Victor Franklin appeared on the spiral staircase and announced loudly, “There’s no need to panic, everyone. I’ve unfortunately misplaced a priceless antique. To prevent it from leaving the premises, we must temporarily close all exits for a search.” The moment he finished, Chloe Young, who was among the guests, suddenly pointed at me and shrieked, “It’s her! I’ve been watching her! I saw her sneak upstairs! She must have stolen it!” All eyes in the room turned toward me. Victor Franklin’s cold eyes locked onto me, a predatory smile playing on his lips. “Ms. Sylvia?” Liam was also watching me from the crowd, his expression complex, finally morphing into a sigh of deep disappointment. “Starling, you could have asked me for money. Why would you…” Victor Franklin advanced on me, step by step, his gaze the cold, calculating look of a viper eyeing its prey. “Hand over the item, Ms. Sylvia. You know this is… very important to me.” I looked at him calmly, holding up my small clutch bag. “I didn’t take anything. You can search me if you don’t believe me.” Victor Franklin narrowed his eyes, reaching for my bag. With a movement too fast to follow, I pulled a small handgun, strapped to my thigh, from under my dress. The dark muzzle was pressed firmly against Victor Franklin’s forehead. I straightened my spine, my voice clear and cold. “Victor Franklin, you are under arrest.” Just then, the villa’s main door was violently forced open. Fully armed police officers poured in, quickly securing the entire scene. The commanding officer rushed to my side, snapped to attention, and announced, “Agent Starling, Special Operations is in position. Please give the order.”

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“What was your name again? How long have you been here?” Mr. Evans didn’t even look up from his desk. Ten years. I had been with this company for ten years. “Lynn,” I said. “Ten years.” “Ah.” He shuffled some papers. “The company’s downsizing. Your position is… expendable. You understand.” Expendable. I almost laughed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll submit my resignation today.” Mr. Evans blinked, surprised I’d agreed so quickly. “Well… get everything handed over by the end of the week, then.” “Okay.” I turned and walked out. I paused at the door. “Mr. Evans, do you have any idea how many systems this company runs on?” He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I didn’t turn around. “Nothing. I won’t keep you.” 1 My name is Lynn. I’m thirty-five, and I’ve worked at this company for exactly ten years. Ten years. It sounds ridiculous even to me. When I joined back in 2014, we were just a tiny startup with a team of twenty. I was twenty-four, fresh out of college, clueless about everything except how to work my tail off. I built our systems from the ground up. It started with a simple inventory management tool. Then, slowly, I added more. The order management system, the financial system, the supply chain logistics, the CRM… Ten years. Forty-seven systems. The admin account and password for every single one of them are stored in my head. No one ever asked me for them. And I never volunteered them. It wasn’t that I was being secretive. It was that, genuinely, no one ever asked. In this company, I was invisible. How invisible? Today, when the big boss called me in for a chat, his first words were, “What was your name again?” Ten years. He didn’t know my name. Honestly, I should have been used to it. Back when I started, the company was small, less formal. If work needed doing, you did it. Nobody cared who you were. But as we grew, we moved offices three times, expanding from twenty people to over two hundred. And I was still just “the one who does the work.” I was never invited to the important meetings. I was never included in team-building events. At the annual awards ceremony, they’d call out names from sales, marketing, and operations. And IT? “A big thank you to our colleagues in the IT department.” That was it. One line. Not a single name. I’d stopped caring. As long as the paycheck came on time and the work got done, it was fine. Until two months ago. We got a new hire. Amber. Twenty-four years old, a Master’s in computer science from a top university. HR led her to the desk next to mine. “Lynn, this is Amber. She’s new. Could you show her the ropes?” I nodded. Sure. It wasn’t the first time. Then I saw her offer letter with the salary. $15,000 a month. I froze. Me, with ten years of service, made $8,000 a month. Her, a fresh graduate, was starting at $15,000. “Is something wrong?” Amber asked, noticing my expression. “No, nothing,” I said. “Let me walk you through the systems.” I couldn’t sleep that night. It wasn’t anger. It was a strange, hollow feeling. Like a wound I’d kept covered for years had been suddenly ripped open. So this was what I was worth to this company. No, I wasn’t even worth that. The next morning, I got a call. A headhunter. “Ms. Miller? Hello, I’m from a recruitment agency. I’m calling about a Lead DevOps Engineer position at a major tech firm. The starting salary is $24,000 a month. Would you be interested in discussing it?” I was stunned silent for a few seconds. “How did you find me?” “You posted a few technical articles on an industry forum. They were incredibly insightful. Our client specifically requested we find someone with your profile.” The industry forum. I’d written those three years ago. I never thought anyone had noticed. “I’ll have to think about it.” “Of course. Please let me know.” I hung up and looked around the bustling office. Not a single person glanced my way. It was like I was made of air. In that moment, I made a decision. 2 Amber adapted quickly. It’s almost ironic to say it like that. Because “adapting” meant she learned how to perform for the bosses. “Good morning, Mr. Evans!” “Mr. Miller, have you had lunch yet?” “Sarah, I love that dress on you!” She was a sweet talker, all smiles and compliments, and always ready to run an errand. The complete opposite of me. Her desk was next to mine. The first thing she did every morning was her makeup. Then she’d scroll through her phone, chat on social media, and browse online stores. And her work? “Lynn, how do you run this report? Can you show me?” “Lynn, how do I log into this system? What’s the password?” “Lynn, this…” Lynn, Lynn, Lynn. She said it so sweetly. After training her for three days, I realized something. She didn’t know a thing. I’m not exaggerating. She was genuinely clueless. A Master’s from a top university who couldn’t even write a clean SQL query. “This wasn’t my area of research,” she’d said, completely unabashed. “My focus is on AI.” An AI specialist doing IT operations? I didn’t say anything. A job was a job. I’d teach her what she needed to know. But there was one thing I didn’t teach her. The passwords. The admin passwords to all forty-seven systems. I didn’t give her a single one. She asked once. “Lynn, what are the admin passwords for all these systems? I should write them down.” “It’s a lot to remember. Just use a standard user account for now.” “Oh, okay.” She never asked again. And I never brought it up. It wasn’t that I was deliberately hiding them. It was that nobody cared. In ten years, no one besides me knew those passwords. And no one had ever wanted to know. When the systems are running smoothly, who cares who’s maintaining them behind the scenes? It’s like air. You breathe it, but you never thank it. Not until the day it’s gone. A week later, Amber was handling simple issues on her own. I overheard her chatting with a colleague in the breakroom. “Honestly, I think the system architecture here is pretty clunky. If I had designed it, it would be much more efficient.” The colleague asked, “Didn’t Lynn build that system?” “Yeah, but you know how it is with long-term employees. Their tech gets a little outdated. I mean, everyone’s using cloud-native and microservices now. Her whole setup is ancient.” I was standing right outside the door. I didn’t make a sound. Ancient. Alright, then. Let’s see how well you handle something so “ancient.” 3 In early December, a company-wide email went out. “Notification of Organizational Restructuring.” It was a pretty way of saying “layoffs.” The IT department was first on the chopping block. My manager, Mr. Miller, gathered us in a conference room. “The company’s profits have been down the last couple of years, so we have to trim the fat. The IT department needs to let two people go.” Everyone exchanged nervous glances. I already knew. Sure enough, his eyes landed on me. “Lynn, you’re a veteran employee, so I’ll be direct. The company feels… your position can be optimized.” “What does that mean?” “It means…” He cleared his throat. “Amber has been performing very well since she arrived. She can handle most of the workload now. As for you…” He trailed off, but the message was crystal clear. If the new girl can do the job, we don’t need the old-timer. “Mr. Miller,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, “these systems have run without a single major failure for ten years. Whose work is that a credit to?” He smirked. “The system’s stability is a credit to the leadership’s direction. You’re just maintenance. What credit is there to take?” I was speechless. Not because his words were so insulting. But because I suddenly realized that after ten years, this was how they saw me. “Just maintenance.” The one who does the work. Expendable. “Fine,” I said, standing up. “I understand.” “So, you’ll…” “I’m going to talk to Mr. Evans right now.” “About what?” “About my resignation.” Mr. Miller stared, stunned. I didn’t wait for him. I walked straight to Mr. Evans’s office. And that brings us back to the beginning. “What was your name again? How long have you been here?” Ten years. And you’re asking me how long I’ve been here. When I walked out of his office, Amber was walking back with a cup of coffee. “Lynn, what did you need to see Mr. Evans about?” “I’m quitting.” Her eyes lit up for a split second before she masked it with concern. “Oh, Lynn, don’t be impulsive! It’s tough to find a job out there.” I smiled faintly. “Thanks for your concern.” “But if you leave, what about all these systems?” “You’re the one who said they were poorly designed. Here’s your chance to rebuild them.” Her face flushed. “Lynn, I didn’t mean it like that…” “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll leave you all the documentation.” What I didn’t say was: The documentation doesn’t have the passwords. 4 The news spread like wildfire. “Did you hear? Lynn is leaving.” “Yeah, I heard Mr. Evans let her go personally.” “After ten years? Just like that?” “Well, you know, the company has to downsize.” “True. Her job was pretty non-essential anyway.” Expendable. Non-essential. I must have heard those words a dozen times in the last two days. I packed my desk while colleagues walked past without a word. It was as if I was already gone. Sarah from HR came over with a document. “Lynn, this is your separation agreement. You just need to sign here.” I glanced at it. “Where’s the severance pay?” “What severance pay?” “I’ve worked here for ten years. According to labor laws, I’m entitled to a severance package.” Sarah looked flustered. “Well… the company’s position is that you resigned voluntarily. This isn’t a layoff.” I looked at her. “Sarah, I have a recording.” Her face went pale. “Mr. Evans himself told me the company was ‘downsizing’ and my position was ‘expendable.’ That is, by definition, a layoff, not a voluntary resignation.” “You… you recorded him?” “Ten years,” I said with a thin smile. “You pick up a few things.” Sarah took the papers and left. Thirty minutes later, she was back with a new agreement. The full severance package. Not a penny missing. I signed it. Amber watched from her desk, hesitating. “Lynn…” “What is it?” “The passwords for the systems… could you… give me a copy?” I stared at her. “I thought my setup was ancient.” “That’s not what I meant…” “It’s fine.” I stood up. “The documentation is on the shared drive. You can find it there.” What I didn’t say was: The documents only contain operating procedures. Not a single password. If someone had asked for them, I would have given them. But no one asked. Why should I volunteer? Ten years, and no one asked. So don’t blame me for not giving. I packed the last of my things and took one final look at my desk. The armrests of the chair, worn smooth from a decade of use. The partition covered in sticky notes. The little plant that somehow survived even when no one remembered to water it. “Lynn.” I turned. It was Mr. Miller. “Are you really leaving?” “The papers are signed.” “I mean…” He lowered his voice. “You should probably hand over those passwords before you go.” I laughed. “But Manager, didn’t you say I was ‘just maintenance’? Now that the maintenance person is gone, I’m sure the systems will run themselves.” His face darkened. “Don’t play games, Lynn. This is serious.” “I’m not playing.” I picked up my box. “My handover period is one week. The documentation is all there. The passwords?” I paused. “In ten years, you never once asked for them.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I walked out. I heard his voice behind me. “Good riddance! Frees up a seat for someone who’ll actually do some work!” I didn’t look back.

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At 2 AM, my sugar daddy called and told me to deliver a box of ultra-thin condoms. Staring at my rain-soaked clothes, his voice was husky. “Damn, who told you to be this obedient?” I handed the bag to Silas Vance, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Here’s your 0.01.” As he took it, he deliberately rubbed his calloused thumb over my knuckles, his eyes brimming with a seductive smile. “She’s not here yet. Why don’t we use one first?” While I froze, he chuckled. “Just kidding.” “I arranged a blind date for you next Wednesday. You’ve been with me for so many years; I don’t want to shortchange you.” “You’ll go, right?” Chapter 1 Silas used a negotiating tone, but his eyes held a careless oppression. He didn’t want to shortchange me? Hardly. He was clearly afraid his “white moonlight”—his first love—would find out about our relationship when she returned, so he wanted to dispose of me beforehand. My curled fingers tightened abruptly. I forced a calm face and looked up. “Just send me the address.” Noticing the formal “you” in my tone, he frowned slightly, but only for a second. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto my collarbone, making me shiver from the cold. I stammered, “It’s late. I should go.” “Wait.” Silas walked into the living room and returned with a Burberry shawl in his hand. He wrapped me up tightly, leaving only my misty eyes exposed. In my panic, I looked up to thank him, only to crash into his suddenly darkened gaze. His fingers lingered on the collar of the shawl. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he suddenly spoke: “Don’t go tonight?” I froze, blurting out subconsciously, “Isn’t someone else coming…” He cut me off before I could finish, his knuckles pressing against the top of my head, his tone wrapped in impatient heat: “You actually believe that shit?” “In your heart, am I just a promiscuous scumbag?” “All these years, besides you, who else has been by my side?” Silas carried me to the bed. In the heat of passion, he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “This is our last time.” “Claire is coming back.” “I don’t want her to suspect our relationship, so be a good girl and go on that blind date.” He finally told the truth. I bit his shoulder hard in resentment. Chapter 2 Silas’s stamina was simply heaven-defying. The saying that men past twenty-five are basically sixty simply didn’t apply to him. It wasn’t until the morning mist seeping through the curtains turned white that he finally ended the battle and walked to the bathroom. When the sound of splashing water started, I picked up my clothes from the floor and went to the guest bedroom. This was our tacit habit. Silas was a light sleeper and didn’t like anyone beside him. So, for five years, no matter how tired or sleepy I was after his tossing, I would force myself to use my last bit of strength to crawl to the guest room. The next day, I woke up past nine. After washing up and rushing downstairs, I saw Silas just returning from his workout. He wore a white tank top, the muscle lines of his shoulders and back smooth and powerful. “I asked Mrs. Higgins to leave you breakfast.” I waved my hand quickly. “I’m going to be late for work. I have to catch the subway.” Silas raised an eyebrow slightly. “I can drive you, can’t I?” Putting on my shoes at the entryway, I blurted out subconsciously. “No need.” “The results of my promotion are coming out today. If my colleagues see me getting out of the boss’s car, I won’t be able to explain it even with ten mouths.” Silas paused in unscrewing his water bottle cap. The air suddenly went silent for a moment. A while later, he scoffed lightly. “Suit yourself.” Before leaving, Silas called me and handed me a business card. “Your blind date for next week.” A buzz seemed to ring in my ears, dragging me back to reality. A night of intimacy almost made me forget. The reason I agreed to deliver the condoms last night was to propose ending this improper five-year relationship. I was afraid he would think I was still clinging to him. I reached out and took the card. The sharp edges of the plastic card dug painfully into the web of my thumb. My nose felt a bit stuffy. I gave a low hum. “I’ll go.” Chapter 3 Over the years, I would stay at Silas’s house every weekend. At first, I always carried big and small bags filled with clothes and bottles of skincare products. He thought it was too troublesome for me to move back and forth like that, so later he simply had someone build a vanity for me to store my things. When leaving that day, I took all those things with me. Including the pink slippers I often wore at the entryway, and the pajamas in the closet. While I did all this, Silas just leaned quietly against the door frame watching me, the emotions in his eyes obscure. Until I finished packing and said goodbye to him. “From now on, we are just a simple boss and subordinate relationship.” Seeing through my worries, Silas sneered lightly. “Relax, I won’t make things hard for you at work.” Chapter 5 Running all the way, I finally made it to my desk before ten. My colleague Bella generously treated me to a coffee for once. “Wendy, congratulations in advance. When you become the department director, don’t forget our revolutionary friendship.” I smiled shyly. “The results aren’t out yet.” She scoffed. “Why are you being humble? Among the colleagues competing with you, you have the longest tenure and have completed the most major projects.” “Besides, everyone sees how hard you’ve worked for the company all these years.” “You becoming the director is what everyone expects.” I stopped being polite and smiled at the whole team. “If I succeed, I’ll treat everyone to the most expensive Japanese restaurant in Manhattan!” Cheers erupted in the office. Three minutes to ten. During this time, I clicked open the company email countless times. I even ran to the bathroom three times out of nervousness. Until the email opened, and that line of bold black text jumped out. “We regret to inform you that your promotion was unsuccessful…” Boom. My mind went blank. Team members scrambled to gather around. After seeing the result on the screen, the originally lively office instantly fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. It wasn’t until the HR director smiled and led someone in that the dead silence was broken. “Let me introduce everyone. This is Claire Lin, a master’s graduate from overseas, and the Planning Department Director personally appointed by Mr. Vance.” The moment I looked up, my breath hitched violently— The girl wore a sharply tailored white suit, her long hair loosely tied behind her head, her exposed neck slender and white. She looked exactly like the person in the photo I once saw in the hidden compartment of Silas’s wallet. Chapter 6 It was like catching a severe flu; my nose was stuffed, my mind blank. I was mechanically pushed forward by a heavy force. The road to Silas’s office wasn’t long, but I had to keep wiping tears with the back of my hand. Many people passing by looked at me, but I couldn’t care less about losing face. I knocked on the office door, and Silas’s consistently cold voice came out. “Enter.” I stood there with red eyes. As soon as I made a sound, tears fell. “Why?” He didn’t even look up, his fingertips still scrolling on a document. “Why what?” I raised my volume, my voice filled with uncontrollable grievance. “There are so many positions in the company, why did you have to let Claire occupy my promotion spot?” Silas finally looked up from the pile of documents, his tone as flat as if he were talking about something insignificant. “She wanted to go to the Planning Department.” “Just because she said she wanted to, you can easily strip away my five years of hard work?” He didn’t know. To ensure a smooth promotion, I took the assignment to Africa that no one else wanted. I even caught malaria there and almost never came back. Silas stood up, walked in front of me, and looked down at me from above, his eyes cold without a trace of warmth. “Wendy, this is reality.” “Because I sit in this seat, I can decide everything.” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “I just want fairness. Is that hard?” As if I poked his funny bone, Silas chuckled low. “Fairness?” “You’re talking to me about fairness?” “Wendy, get this straight first,” he leaned in a step closer, the chill in his breath almost sticking to my face, “if you hadn’t slept with me.” “With your average state college qualifications, you wouldn’t even pass the initial resume screening for Hua Mian.” “Why don’t you go ask those Ivy League graduates who interviewed in the same batch as you back then if they wanted fairness?” “You enjoyed the convenience power gave you without a word, and now you come to talk to me about fairness?” Silas’s words slapped my face like a burning palm. Burning my cheeks hot, making even breathing painful. I suddenly understood. Even though I worked hard for five years, striving to prove myself, never thinking of using my relationship with Silas to enjoy any convenience in my career. But I couldn’t change the fact that I relied on him to get into Hua Mian in the beginning. I indeed had no right to talk about fairness. So, I was ready to resign. Chapter 7 Speaking of which, my first meeting with Silas was indeed very cliché. That year after graduating from college, I arrived in New York only to experience being cheated on by my ex-boyfriend, who seamlessly moved on to someone else. Under immense survival and mental pressure, I chose to go to a bar with my best friend to get drunk. It was the first time in my life I drank so much alcohol. Drank until I lost consciousness. Usually, I wouldn’t dare say an extra word to strangers, but I was bold enough to hit on a handsome guy at the bar. That handsome guy was Silas. That day, he sat alone at the bar, his temperament cold and outstanding. Handsome like a damn male star on a fashion magazine cover. Watching him coldly reject the eighth woman who came to hit on him. I sat over like I was possessed, opening with a brainless line, “Are you coming home with me?” The man lowered his head to sip his drink, laughter spilling from his throat. “Never seen anyone as bold as you.” That night in my narrow rental apartment, we had our first passionate night. Before that, I had never had such an extreme experience. It could simply be called addictive. After that night, I thought we wouldn’t cross paths again. Chapter 8 Until the next day, when I took my resume to interview at Hua Mian, I looked up and saw the man in the suit sitting in the main seat. In that instant, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. After recognizing Silas, I feigned calm and finished my self-introduction. After the interview, he stood up and said a word to the HR managers before leaving. Later, my email received an offer from Hua Mian. The day I joined, the company held a welcome party, and Silas gave a speech on stage as a senior executive. After the party, he cornered me in the elevator lobby. “You’re Wendy, right?” “Can you accept a relationship of only sex and no dating?” I was never an open person; you could even say I was conservative. But that day in his deep gaze, my mouth made the decision before my brain. “I… accept.” The moment I heard my own voice. I knew, I was done for. I had hopelessly fallen in love. Since then, our relationship was like being split in half. During the day, we were clearly separated as boss and subordinate; at night, we shed all identities and became the most compatible partners physically. After every intimacy, Silas would always give me a generous sum of money, as well as countless designer bags and jewelry. Of course, what he brought me was far more than this— Under his personal guidance, I went from a workplace rookie who couldn’t even read a spreadsheet to eventually making a mark in the company. Every step of my growth was soaked with his traces. Gradually, I developed hopes I shouldn’t have. Fantasizing that maybe one day, the eyes he looked at me with would hold a bit more love. Until today, waking up from the dream. It turns out the ending of a fairy tale isn’t that wearing glass slippers makes you a princess. When kicked out of the game like a fool. I realized I was wrong. It turns out things that don’t belong to me will never belong to me in the end.

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My wife and I went for a checkup, and she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I went home to my parents, intending to sell our house to save her. My mom said to me, “I can give you the money from the house, but I have one condition. You tell her first that you are the one diagnosed with stomach cancer.” I didn’t understand my mom’s reasoning, but to save my wife, I did as she asked. That same night, my mother-in-law rushed to our house, persuading me to get a divorce so I wouldn’t drag her daughter down. My wife also said to me, “If you truly love someone, you shouldn’t waste the rest of their life.” I stared blankly at my wife, unable to believe she would say such things. Chapter 1 In the beginning, I understood my mom’s intention. She wanted to test our relationship, to see if my wife was worth my family selling our house to save her. I thought our love was stronger than gold and would surely withstand the test. Now I know the ancestors were right: Husband and wife are like birds of the same forest; when disaster strikes, they fly their separate ways. Seeing me stunned and silent, my wife said earnestly, “Do you know that cancer treatment isn’t as easy as you think? You can search online for families fighting cancer. In the end, the money is gone, and the person is gone too.” My mother-in-law eagerly added, “Exactly! When the time comes to save you, we’d have to sell the house and car, borrow money everywhere, and if we still can’t save you, what will happen to my daughter after you die?” I had always respected my mother-in-law, but this time I didn’t even look at her. I looked into my wife’s eyes and said seriously, “Do you really think that?” My wife said, “I hope you won’t be too selfish and can consider me too.” I asked, “Do you think wanting to live is selfish?” My wife sighed. “I only know that if I were the one with cancer, I definitely wouldn’t drag you down. I would divorce you and choose to bear it alone.” I fell into silence. My mother-in-law wiped her tears and said, “I know you feel wronged, but what mistake did my daughter make? She’s still so young. How will she live the rest of her life?” I suddenly thought, maybe my mother-in-law was right. I am still young. If I used everything to save my wife, spent all the family savings, and in the end couldn’t save her, how would I live the rest of my life? At this moment, my wife suddenly handed over a divorce agreement. My heart went cold. It hadn’t been long since I told her the news, yet she had the divorce papers ready. I picked up the agreement and looked at it, but couldn’t help being stunned. This was simply an unfair contract. After the divorce, not only would the cash be split in half, but the property would also belong to my wife, leaving me only a car. I suspected that if she knew how to drive, I wouldn’t even keep the car. My wife said, “If you see no problem, sign it, and then we’ll go to the courthouse to divorce.” I said, “Do you think this contract is fair? My family bought the house. Why should it go to you after the divorce?” My mother-in-law quickly said, “Do you remember when you married my daughter, I made it very clear that you must have a house to get married?” I said, “I remember, but aren’t we getting divorced now?” My mother-in-law said anxiously, “This house is a guarantee for my daughter! It’s for emergencies after marrying you. Now that you are indeed sick, isn’t it reasonable for us to take this guarantee?” I gasped. I didn’t expect the “guarantee” they talked about before marriage meant this. The dowry is a guarantee, the house is also a guarantee. If I cheat, she takes the guarantee. If I die of illness, she also takes the guarantee. When risks arise, she takes all the benefits, so what am I left with? I said angrily, “Impossible! I won’t give you the house! I’m just sick, I’m not the party at fault. Why should I give it to you!” My wife looked at me gloomily and said sadly, “Are you unwilling to give me even the last gift?” Usually, when she spoke to me with this pitiful expression, I only felt heartache. But this time, I felt a chill. What gift? Taking someone’s property when they are sick can actually be shamelessly called a gift. Seeing my resolute attitude, my mother-in-law softened her tone and said, “Listen to me. Giving this house to my daughter isn’t just for ourselves. If something happens to you in the future, won’t someone need to help take care of your parents?” My wife quickly added, “Yes, I can help take care of my in-laws later.” I looked at her coldly. At this moment, I wouldn’t believe anything she said. Before marriage, she said she didn’t want to live with my parents, so we bought this house. Now she says she will take care of my parents in the future. How could I believe her? I sneered, “My parents don’t need your care.” My wife nodded. She said, “Fine, let’s sue then.” I gasped, looking at her in disbelief. “You know I have stomach cancer now, yet you want to sue me?” My mother-in-law said impatiently, “Talking nicely doesn’t work, you force us to speak the ugly truth, right? You are already sick. If we fight a lawsuit with you for a few years and drag you to death, can you keep these assets?” She got more excited as she spoke, even pointing at my nose. “When you die, it will be your old parents fighting the lawsuit with us. Are we afraid of them?” Anger burned in my heart. This family is full of ingrates. I even wanted to sell my parents’ old house to save her life. My wife said, “Mom, don’t argue with him. Let me speak from the heart.” She held my hand, her face full of sincerity. But this face that I used to like, now I find disgusting no matter how I look at it. My wife said seriously, “Let’s put ourselves in each other’s shoes, okay? If I were the one sick today, I would leave most of the assets to you because I hope you can help take care of my parents after I’m gone.” My mother-in-law quickly said, “Exactly, look at my daughter’s awareness, and look at yours. Don’t you feel ashamed? What are you thinking about all day?” I said, “I’m thinking that a couple can weather the storm together.” My wife shook her head and said, “What you said is too naive.” I asked, “How is this naive?” My wife said, “Couples weathering the storm together sounds fine on the surface, but fundamentally, it’s you dragging me into your storm.” “If I continue to be with you, I will waste my youth, my savings, and finally become old and penniless. When you leave this world lightly, leaving me with nothing, is this what you want?” Listening to my wife’s words, I felt like knives were stabbing my heart. I originally thought if she was sick, I would do everything to save her. But I didn’t expect that if it were me who was sick, her first reaction would be that I’m a burden. I sighed and said sadly, “How can a relationship between husband and wife be a burden? We made a promise that for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, nothing would separate us.” My wife shook her head. “You think things are too simple. Let me tell you, if we don’t divorce, terrible things will happen next.” I didn’t understand how it involved terrible things, but my wife said very seriously, “In the beginning, I would accompany you for treatment, but as time goes on, savings dwindle, and we might fall into debt, selling the house and car. Do you think our life will still be good?” I didn’t speak, but started imagining the scenario my wife described. She continued, “When you are too sick to walk, I’ll have to carry you to the hospital. Without a car, in wind and rain, I’ll have to carry you on the bus. Maybe I’ll even have to clean your excrement. With such a life day after day, won’t you feel guilty?” I couldn’t help but say, “There is still a chance with treatment. As long as we survive this difficulty, future days might get better.” Seeing I was still refuting her, my wife suddenly said, “But why should I use the rest of my life to gamble on a probability for you?” A simple sentence made my heart completely cold. My wife said, “If we win the gamble, fine. But what if we lose? If we lose, it’s my whole life at stake. You keep talking about facing it together, isn’t that actually selfish? From beginning to end, you are thinking about making me sacrifice!” She started crying as she spoke. She cried, “I am human too. Before you want to live yourself, why don’t you think that I am just a human too! I also want to have a normal, happy life!” My mother-in-law quickly handed tissues to my wife to wipe her tears. She patted my wife’s shoulder and comforted her, “This person just doesn’t know what’s good for him. From start to finish, he only thinks about himself and never considers your feelings.” My wife cried harder and harder, finally wailing, “Why should I use decades of my remaining life to gamble on a probability for you? Does loving me mean you should drag me down?” I looked at my wife crying, her words echoing in my mind. Right, why should I bet decades of my remaining life to gamble on a probability for her? At this moment, I realized I was terrifyingly stupid. Also at this moment, I understood my mother’s good intentions. My wife said, “You have fallen into the abyss. If I could pull you up, I definitely would. The problem is I am really powerless. You holding my hand tight will only drag us both into the abyss!” I smiled bitterly, “You are right. Since we loved, we should consider the other person. There is no need to drag the other person into the abyss too.” Hearing I was relenting, my wife exchanged a look with my mother-in-law and quickly said excitedly, “Right! It’s good you can understand. Me proposing divorce today is absolutely not because I am cold and heartless, but precisely because we loved, so we can’t reach that step.” Just then, my phone rang. It was a text message from my mom. The message said: “I found someone to ask around. Our old house can still sell for sixty thousand dollars, which should cover a few years of treatment.” My mother-in-law saw the content on the phone screen. Her face changed instantly. “You already contacted your mom to sell the old house, right?” My wife gasped. “You contacted your family to sell the old house without discussing it with me. You really are selfish enough. If I didn’t propose divorce today, would you sell this house too?” My mother-in-law said excitedly, “He never treated you as family. He just wants to sell the old house and bring his parents over. Then you will have to serve not only him but also two old people!” My wife bit her lip. “I really didn’t expect you to be this kind of person. Why let your parents live with me without my consent!” I said, “Wait, your words are contradictory. You just said if I leave the house to you, you would help take care of my parents. But now you say why live with my parents. What exactly do you mean?” My wife said excitedly, “That’s after I succeed in my career in ten years or so! If you let them move in now, wouldn’t that delay my career?” My mother-in-law quickly said, “The old house cannot be sold, absolutely not. If you sell the old house now, how will my daughter live in a new house later? Your parents will definitely rely on my daughter because they have no house!” I smiled bitterly, “I really didn’t expect that my parents’ property needs your consent to be sold.” My mother-in-law said righteously, “You not only drag down your wife but also your parents. You have no responsibility! Anyway, I’m putting it here, your family’s old house cannot be sold. If you dare to put up a for-sale sign, I will go make a scene every day so no one dares to buy it!” I finally understood. If I were the one sick today, they would not only take my house and half my savings but even prevent my parents from selling their house, fearing my parents would have nowhere to live and come live with her. My wife looked at me with disappointment. “Why have you become like this? I will take care of your parents, but not now. Currently, I am in a career rising period. If you drag down the current me, how can I help your family in the future?” I smiled bitterly, “You mean I am sick, spent half of my own savings, and I can’t even let my parents sell their house to save me.” My wife said with a serious face, “Don’t make it sound so ugly. I just hope you don’t only think about yourself but also consider me and your parents. I felt guilty at first, but now I know divorcing you is correct. You really are very selfish.” Things having come to this, I felt like an idiot. If my mom hadn’t made me tell a lie, I probably would have really spent all the assets on this bad woman. I sighed and said, “Okay, since you want to divorce me, let’s divorce.” My wife exchanged a glance with my mother-in-law. Not expecting me to agree so easily, my wife quickly said, “That’s good. I hope you don’t blame me. If I were the one sick today, I would make the same choice.” I asked my wife, “Are you speaking from your heart?” She said, “Of course, it’s the truth. If a single word is false, may I be struck by lightning.” I smiled bitterly, “Okay, I’ll sign.” Hearing this, my mother-in-law immediately got excited. She patted my shoulder and said, “I knew I didn’t misjudge you. You are a responsible man!” My wife also hurried to get a pen. She handed it to me, putting on a gentle face again. “This is for the best. We loved so passionately once; let’s not make the ending so ugly.” I sneered, then crossed out my wife’s name as Party A on the contract and signed my own name. The smile on my wife’s face gradually froze. She said, “What do you mean?” I looked at my wife’s face, remembering the bits and pieces of the past years with her. Honestly, I planned to give her one last chance. I said sincerely, “You keep saying you’re worried about being dragged down, so I’m returning what belongs to you. Legally speaking, these are your assets. And since my salary is higher than yours, you actually earned some.” Then I held my wife’s hand and said gently, “You also know I am a sick person now. I want to live. Keeping these assets, I can sell them later. You won’t be dragged down anymore. If you loved me, at least don’t take away my hope of living, okay?” This was the last chance I gave my wife. If she agreed, it would mean what she just said was true, and I had judged a noble person with a petty mind. If she was a true noble person, I would naturally do my best to save her. Unfortunately, my wife didn’t cherish this opportunity. She flung my hand away violently and roared at me, “We agreed before marriage to give me a house as a guarantee. Now I’m about to become a widow, why should you take away my guarantee!” I looked at her hysterical appearance. At this moment, all my hopes turned to ash. Finally, the dagger was revealed. Every word she said before seemed so laughable now. My mother-in-law snatched the divorce agreement and tore it to shreds. She gritted her teeth and said, “Fine! Let’s sue then. I want to see how long you, a sick invalid, can drag on!” After speaking, she threw the scraps of the divorce agreement directly at my face, saying viciously, “When we talked nicely, you didn’t cherish it. Later when we get tough, you will know what regret is! From today on, I will stay at your old house every day. If you dare to sell the old house, I will make a scene!” I looked coldly at their exasperated faces. My wife took out her phone and made a call, saying calmly, “Lawyer, we didn’t reach an agreement here. Let’s sue.” Turns out she not only prepared the divorce agreement but even hired a lawyer. I wondered why she was so fast; looks like she found a professional divorce lawyer. I smiled bitterly, “It seems everything you said just now was a lie. The sad thing is I was still thinking that if you encountered all this today, I would definitely try every way to save you.” My mother-in-law suddenly said sarcastically, “Oh my, really hope my daughter encounters all this? Too bad my daughter will live a long life, while you already have cancer and are going to die!” I shook my head, “Since it’s come to this, let’s file for divorce first.” My mother-in-law said excitedly, “The property hasn’t been divided clearly, why divorce?” My wife quickly pulled my mother-in-law and said, “Mom, it’s okay. We can fight the property lawsuit even after getting the divorce certificate.” She whispered something in my mother-in-law’s ear. After hearing it, my mother-in-law suddenly realized and quickly said to my wife, “Okay, then hurry up and apply for divorce with him.” I looked at my wife’s mysterious appearance. In fact, I already understood what she was thinking. In fact, we should be thinking about the same thing. I won’t take out the diagnosis report to slap her face at this time. Only the stupidest person would take out the diagnosis report and tell the truth at this time, because my wife and I thought of the same law. Civil law clearly stipulates in marriage law that there is an obligation of maintenance between husband and wife. At this moment, she thinks I am sick. If she doesn’t save me, she breaks the law. Similarly, if I don’t save her, I also break the law. If I took out the diagnosis report at this time, my wife would resolutely not divorce. So what would happen next? Based on the court’s character, it would definitely reject my divorce application. The court would hope my wife be a bit kinder. In this difficult moment, she should have the obligation to save her. Highly likely to reject my divorce application! At this moment, my wife and I were thinking about the same thing: divorce quickly to avoid the law of spousal maintenance obligation. So I knew that only stupid people would take out the diagnosis report at this time. Once the other party disagreed with the divorce, I would be finished. As expected, after we applied for divorce at the Civil Affairs Bureau, my wife ran away directly. She didn’t contact me at all, spending all her time collecting property evidence and contacting lawyers. My mother-in-law also ran to my family’s old house every day, afraid we would sell it. I just felt sad. To divorce and sue me smoothly, she was busy all day, unable to even find time to go to the hospital to get her own medical report. During this period, I wasn’t idle either. I did a bad thing too. I contacted lawyers everywhere, letting my wife know I was prepared for a lawsuit. This made her more anxious, completely ignoring her medical report, knowing only to run around every day. Under this tug-of-war, the divorce cooling-off period finally ended. We finally got the divorce certificate. My wife put away the certificate and sneered, “Let’s take the lawsuit slowly later. Let’s see if I can drag you to death.” I sighed, handed her the medical report, and said, “We were husband and wife after all. I have a gift for you.”

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1 My best friend, an expert at playing the damsel in distress, transmigrated into a novel only to be bullied by her fiancé’s possessive “female bestie.” She called for backup. A system prompt offered me a role: transmigrate as the male lead’s mother or his grandmother. I glanced at my short, boyish hair in the mirror and grinned. “I choose C. I’m going in as myself.” A flash of light later, I stood outside a private karaoke room. Inside, the male lead Declan was kissing his “bestie” Stella while friends cheered. When they pulled apart, Stella shot a smug look at my friend Reina. “Your turn, Reina. If you lose… which of Declan’s friends will you kiss?” Declan smirked silently. As the dice rattled again, I pushed the door open. Reina’s face lit up; she hugged me tightly. Declan slammed his glass down. “Reina, who is this guy?” For years, I’d styled myself as a charming rogue in men’s clothes—the legendary fake playboy to my best friend’s calculated innocence. Keeping an arm around Reina, I smiled faintly. “Same as your little friend here,” I said, nodding at Stella. “I’m her guy best friend.” Stella froze. Declan’s face darkened. Reina, ever the diplomat, smoothed things over and pulled me down to sit with her. For the next round, I guided Reina’s hand, and we easily won. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me. I turned my gaze to Declan. “You and your ‘bro’ already had your turn,” I said, putting a deliberate emphasis on the word bro. “So now it’s our turn. A little kiss between sisters shouldn’t be a problem, right?” … “No!” Declan’s hand tightened on his glass, looking like he was about to crush it. He shot to his feet, his voice a furious roar. Reina immediately put her skills to use, her eyes welling up with perfectly formed tears. “But… you and Stella were just kissing… Why is it different when it’s us?” Stella rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on Declan’s arm. “How can you even compare? Declan and I grew up together! We were thick as thieves. What’s a little kiss between us?” I fought the urge to roll my own eyes and ran a hand through my short hair. “What a coincidence. Reina and I grew up together too. Wore the same dresses and everything. So what’s a little kiss between us?” Without waiting for an answer, I pulled Reina into my arms and angled my head for a stage kiss. The room fell dead silent. Declan’s friends stared, their mouths hanging open, but no one dared to make a sound. After a moment, I let Reina go. “Well? Applaud,” I said, raising an eyebrow at the stunned group of guys. “You were all so excited a minute ago. What’s the matter? Only like watching the boys kiss? Don’t appreciate a little sisterly love?” No one dared to breathe. Declan’s eyes were fixed on me, blazing and bloodshot. The glass in his hand finally gave way, shattering with a sharp crack. He whirled on Stella. “This is all your fault! It was your stupid idea!” After all, it was Stella who had insisted on the winner-kisses-winner rule. Declan stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Stella, momentarily stunned, shot me a look of pure hatred before scrambling to run after him. The next morning, Reina was scrolling through her phone when she suddenly shrieked. “Alex! You have to see this!” Stella had posted a nine-photo collage to her Instagram. In the pictures, she and Declan were on a yacht, clinking champagne glasses in a luxurious stateroom. Clothes and empty wine bottles were strewn artfully across the floor, creating an atmosphere so intimate it was impossible not to draw conclusions. The caption read: “When I’m the only one still by your side.” Reina let out a laugh that was pure, bitter disbelief. I nudged her shoulder. Our eyes met, and a silent, perfect understanding passed between us. Thirty minutes later, Reina’s Instagram was also updated with a nine-photo collage. The composition was just as intimate. Several dresses were scattered on the floor of a beautifully decorated room. Reina and I were leaning against the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeding each other pieces of fruit. Her caption: “When you’re the only one still by my side.” Less than half an hour after she posted, a frantic knocking echoed through the apartment. On the video intercom, Declan stood outside, his eyes red-rimmed and his chest heaving. 2 The second Reina opened the door, Declan stormed in and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Why?” he rasped, his voice raw with exhaustion. “Reina, why would you betray me?” Reina knew exactly what he was talking about. The tears of a master performer welled up instantly, spilling delicately down her cheeks. “What are you thinking? There was a thunderstorm last night, and I was terrified. I tried calling you until three in the morning, but your phone was off!” Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed. “I had no choice… I had to ask Alex to come and stay with me…” Each word was broken by a sob, yet perfectly clear. Declan froze. He pulled out his phone. The screen was black. Someone had deliberately turned it off. His expression shifted from confusion to dawning fury. “Stella…” he muttered through gritted teeth. When he looked back at Reina, his gaze had softened. “Even so, you can’t post pictures like that online.” His voice was low, laced with frustration. “Reina, I’m a man. I’m possessive of you. Do you understand?” Reina looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “I’m possessive too!” she cried. “When you and Stella are like that… do you think it doesn’t hurt me?” Her words hit him like a physical blow. He froze, then pulled her into his arms. “Okay, baby, don’t cry. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” he murmured, stroking her back gently. Then, his gaze lifted over Reina’s shoulder and landed on me, sitting on the sofa and enjoying the show. His expression turned to ice. “You,” he said, pointing a finger at me, his voice cold. “Get out. Right now.” I shrugged, stood up, and sauntered over. I reached out, gently disentangled Reina from his embrace, and pulled her back into mine. “Why are you mad at me, Mr. Monroe?” I asked with a challenging smirk. “Reina told me that the last time she was at your place, she found Stella sleeping in your bed. Are you two really that close?” Declan’s face grew even darker. “Let her go,” he commanded, his eyes fixed on the hand I had wrapped around Reina’s waist. “She’s my fiancée. Don’t you dare cross the line under the guise of being her ‘guy best friend.’” “Cross the line?” I raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t your ‘female bestie’ doing the exact same thing?” “Stella would never!” Declan blurted out. The words had barely left his mouth when the click of high heels sounded from the doorway. “Declan, I couldn’t find you this morning. I should have known you’d be here with your little wifey.” Stella swept into the room, giving Reina a look of pure contempt. She walked straight to Declan and wrapped her arm around his waist. I raised an eyebrow at him. See? Declan looked deeply uncomfortable. He was about to tell Stella to let go when she suddenly reached down and gave his crotch a casual pat. “Good, it went down.” Her voice was completely nonchalant. “You drank so much last night it stood up. I was worried you’d walk around like that all morning and embarrass yourself.” She then patted his cheek. “See? I’m always looking out for you, aren’t I?” Reina and I both gasped. We exchanged a wide-eyed look. What kind of master-level move was that? Stella shot Reina a triumphant smirk. I just smiled. I pulled Reina closer, my hand moving to cup her breast. “Wow, they really have gotten bigger,” I remarked thoughtfully. “Good thing I was here to help you massage them last night, baby.” 3 The air in the room turned to ice. Declan’s eyes went completely red. He shoved Stella away and lunged at me, yanking me away from Reina. “What else do you have to say for yourself, Reina? What the hell is going on between you and this… this friend of yours?” he roared, his voice trembling with rage. Reina covered her face and began to cry, her small fists beating against his chest. “How can you ask me that? When I couldn’t reach you last night, I called your friends! They told me you were with Stella in a stateroom on a yacht…” Her voice broke with sobs. “I was so angry and stressed my chest felt tight, I could barely breathe!” She hiccupped, her shoulders shaking. “Alex was the one who helped me calm down, who massaged the tension away! Where were you when I needed you?” Declan was stunned into silence. That was my cue. “I only said that to provoke you,” I said calmly, then turned my gaze to Stella. “So, was what she said true? Did he really have an erection while you two were alone last night, or was that just to provoke Reina?” Stella opened her mouth, but no words came out. Declan’s lips thinned into a hard line. He turned to Stella. “Stella,” he said, his voice low and serious. “From now on, you need to watch your boundaries.” Stella’s face went pale. Finally, she managed a tight, reluctant, “Fine.” That evening, Stella invited Reina and me to a party on the yacht. She claimed it was to apologize for the morning’s events. We decided to go. As soon as we boarded, Stella greeted us with a brilliant smile. “Reina, you’re here!” she chirped, taking Reina’s hand affectionately. “I was completely out of line this morning. I’ll drink three shots as punishment.” With Declan watching, Reina had no choice but to play the part of the gracious and forgiving fiancée. Halfway through the party, Stella suggested they go to the top deck for some fresh air, pulling Reina along with her. I saw them go and immediately followed. The wind was strong on the top deck. Stella led Reina to the railing. “Alright, Reina, let’s stop playing games,” she said, her smile vanishing. “Declan and I have known each other for twenty-three years. We were playing together before we could even walk. How long have you known him?” Reina remained silent. Stella took a confident step closer. “Do you really think he’s going to marry you? The Monroe family needs a daughter-in-law from an equal standing, not some green-tea bitch who pretends to be helpless. If you’re smart, you’ll break off the engagement yourself and leave with a little dignity.” “And if I don’t?” Reina asked quietly. “Then you’ll find out,” Stella sneered. “I can make him spend all night drinking with me. I can make him sleep in the same bed as me. Do you really think there’s anything I can’t do?” I was hidden in the shadows. Reina glanced toward me, and I gave a subtle nod. I slipped back downstairs and found Declan. Just as he stepped onto the top deck, Reina suddenly stumbled and fell to the ground. Tears streamed down her face instantly. “Reina!” Declan shouted, rushing toward her. But I got there first, scooping her into my arms. “Let me—” Declan started, reaching for her. But Reina just clung to my shirt, shaking her head and crying. “No… I don’t want you to hold me!” Her voice was a broken whisper. “I never knew you and Stella had that kind of relationship… I thought… I thought it was innocent, like what Alex and I have…” Declan froze. “What kind of relationship?” he demanded, turning to glare at Stella. “What did you say to her?” Stella’s face was white. “I-I didn’t…” Declan tried to comfort Reina, but she just kept crying, refusing to say what happened, like a delicate flower determined to swallow all its pain. This only made Declan more frantic and heartbroken. That’s when I took out my phone and hit play on the recording. Stella’s voice, sharp and clear, cut through the night wind: “…Declan and I have known each other for twenty-three years… Do you really think he’s going to marry you?” “…I can make him spend all night drinking with me. I can make him sleep in the same bed as me. Do you really think there’s anything I can’t do?” The recording ended. Reina’s sobs grew louder. Declan’s face was a mask of cold fury. “Stella,” he said, each word squeezed out from between clenched teeth. “I have never, ever thought of you that way. The only person I will ever marry in my life is Reina.” He bent down and decisively lifted Reina from my arms. He turned and walked away without giving Stella a second glance. With the main characters gone, it was just me and Stella on the deck. I dusted off my hands and stood up, the sea breeze ruffling my hair. Stella walked over to me, her eyes glinting with a venomous hatred. “You win this round, Alex.” she hissed. “But just wait. At Declan’s engagement party in three days, I’ll make sure you and your precious Reina are both ruined for good.” Her threat was vicious. But I just gave her my signature nonchalant shrug. “Oh? Can’t wait to see you try.” 4 Three days later, the entire five-star hotel was booked for the engagement party of Declan Monroe, heir to the Monroe fortune. Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant glow, and a red carpet stretched from the entrance all the way to the main stage. The hall was filled with guests, the air alive with the constant flash of cameras. Reina, stunning in a white gown, walked the red carpet on Declan’s arm. They were the perfect couple, met with thunderous applause. I sat at the head table reserved for close friends and family, my eyes scanning the room. Stella was nowhere to be seen. Strange. After all that talk of ruining me, how could she miss the party? The evening went smoothly. Declan was doting on Reina, his eyes full of adoration. It wasn’t until the party was winding down, and Declan had taken Reina to greet some other guests, that my phone vibrated. A text from Reina: “Alex, come to the second-floor lounge. Urgent!” I frowned and excused myself. The second-floor hallway was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the celebration downstairs. The door to the lounge was slightly ajar. I pushed it open. “Reina?” Before I could say another word, something moved behind me. A cloth, smelling cloyingly sweet, was pressed over my nose and mouth. Ether. My consciousness blurred in an instant… I awoke to a piercing scream. My head was pounding, feeling like it was about to split open. I forced my eyes open and found myself lying on a bed, my jacket gone. A group of people were crowding into the room. Reina stood at the front, her eyes wide with horror as she pointed behind me. “Alex, behind you…” I struggled to turn my head. Stella was huddled at the edge of the bed, wrapped in a blanket, her hair a mess, her shoulders bare. Her face was stained with tears, her eyes wide with terror. The moment she saw I was awake, she lunged at me— SLAP! The blow was so hard my head snapped to the side. “You animal!” she shrieked, her voice splitting the air. “You raped me!” She deliberately let the blanket slip further, revealing a shocking splash of bright red on the white sheets. Declan pushed his way into the room. When he saw the scene, his eyes turned blood-red. “Alex!” he roared, charging forward. He grabbed me by the collar and slammed his fist into my face. “You bastard! What did you do to Stella?!” Reina rushed over, trying to shield me. “Wait! There has to be a misunderstanding! Alex would never do something like this!” Stella, sobbing, snatched my phone from the bedside table. “It was a setup! This was all planned!” The screen lit up. She opened the messaging app, found my chat with Reina, and shoved the phone in Declan’s face. The chat log was damning: Reina: Alex, that fox Stella is getting in the way. Alex: What do you want to do about it, baby? Reina: The engagement party is our chance. Get her to the lounge on the second floor. I’ve prepared some drugs. Alex: Are you saying you want me to have a taste? Reina: A little treat for you at my engagement party 😉 Once it’s done, she won’t have the face to cling to Declan anymore! Declan stared at the screen. His face went from furious to pale, then to a dead, ashen gray. He looked up at Reina, his eyes shattered. “Reina…” His voice trembled. “Was it all an act? Your sweetness, your innocence… was it all fake?” The room erupted in shocked murmurs, all eyes and whispers directed at us. Reina shook her head frantically. “No! I didn’t send those messages!” “Liar!” Stella screamed. “Reina, I know you hate me, but I can’t believe you’d use such a disgusting way to ruin me! Are you even human?” Declan looked at Reina, his eyes filled with pain and crushing disappointment. “Reina, I really… I was so wrong about you.” Reina was on the verge of tears. “Declan, you have to believe me! Alex couldn’t have raped Stella! Because she’s a—” “AHHHH!” Stella shrieked again, cutting her off as she scrolled through my phone. “You two have been… Declan, look at this!” She showed him another part of the chat: Alex: I did it. Reina: Ooh, was she better than me? Did you get a video? I want to see. Alex: Of course. I’ll send it to you later. But honestly, she wasn’t as good as you. The room fell completely silent. Declan looked at Reina, the last shred of trust in his eyes crumbling to dust. “You and him,” he said, his voice a horrifying rasp. “You and this so-called ‘guy best friend’ of yours…” “You’ve been sleeping together all this time?” Reina tried desperately to explain. “No! We haven’t—” “Enough!” Declan grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently. “Answer me! Have you been sleeping together?!” I tried to get up. “Declan! Don’t you touch her!” But the ether was still in my system. My limbs were weak, and I stumbled. As I tried to get off the bed, Stella launched herself at me from behind, grabbing a handful of my hair. “Don’t even think about it,” she hissed in my ear, before starting to wail again, screaming that I was an animal, her grip on my hair tightening. I struggled to break free. Feeling me resist, Stella yanked with all her might— With a soft rip, my wig came off. The stylish men’s short-cut wig landed on the bed. And in the next second, my real hair cascaded down, a waterfall of black silk tumbling over my shoulders and all the way to my waist.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389480”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was ten years after the divorce when our daughter, Phoebe, was hauled into the precinct for a street fight. The detective assigned to question her, by some cruel twist of fate, was her mother, Simona—the woman she hadn’t seen in a decade. I watched, a helpless ghost, as Simona’s eyes scanned Phoebe’s tattooed forearm and the shocking electric-blue streaks in her hair. She clamped down on her fury and snapped: “Phoebe Hawthorne, look at the state of you! Fighting, skipping school, running with riff-raff—” “What the hell has your father been teaching you? How could he let you become this?!” Phoebe, who had been silent, suddenly lifted her head. Her eyes were raw with accusation. “My fighting is my own business. You have no right to talk about my dad!” Slap! The sharp crack of a hand striking flesh echoed through the large, sterile room. Simona’s hand froze mid-air, trembling slightly. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then commanded the nearby officer, “Riley, get me Reid Hawthorne’s number. Tell him that since he clearly can’t parent, I’m taking the child starting today.” As they disappeared, the young officer, Riley, stared at his computer screen. Right there, stark and inescapable on my record, were four chilling words: DEATH REGISTERED. 1 My soul immediately followed Simona and Phoebe out. Phoebe stumbled as Simona hauled her along, the left side of her face already bright red and swelling. My heart twisted. I reached out, desperate to soothe her cheek, but my fingers passed uselessly through the angry redness. I hovered next to Simona, my gaze full of mute accusation. Simona, how could you hit her? Don’t you know how hard it was for her to survive at all? Simona shoved Phoebe into the passenger seat of her SUV. She didn’t start the car, instead gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. Her eyes were dark and stormy. “Buckle up,” she said, her voice tight. Phoebe turned her head, staring out the window, completely still. Simona swiveled to glare at her. “Did you not hear me?” “I heard you.” Phoebe’s voice was a whisper, laced with a choked sob. “I just don’t want to listen to you.” “You—” Simona sucked in another breath, desperately trying to contain her rage. “Fine. Fine. Reid really has raised quite the daughter.” “Don’t you dare talk about my dad!” Phoebe spun back, her tear-filled eyes locked on Simona. “Ten years! Have you cared about me for a single day? Don’t pretend to be a mother now!” Simona laughed, a short, bitter sound. “I didn’t care about you? Who was it that fought tooth and nail for custody? Who swore he could give you the best life even without me?” “Look at you now, Phoebe. Just look at yourself!” “Street fighting, police records, hair dyed like some juvenile delinquent, and this trash tattooed on your arm.” “Is this his ‘best life’?” Phoebe’s lips began to tremble. “You don’t understand…” “I don’t understand?” Simona cut her off, her voice rising. “I only know that a decent father doesn’t raise a child like this! If Reid truly cared, he would have taught you right from wrong, not let you run wild with strangers on the street!” “He didn’t!” Phoebe shrieked, tears finally bursting free. “He did care! He cared more about me than anyone in the world! You don’t get to talk about him! You don’t deserve to!” I floated in the backseat, reaching out in vain to hold my daughter’s shaking shoulders. Phoebe, Daddy’s here, Daddy’s right here… But only the rushing night wind could hear my voice. Simona’s phone vibrated. Annoyed, she fumbled for it. The screen lit up with a text preview from Riley. She glanced at it, about to tap it open. “What do you know?!” Phoebe screamed. “My dad already—” “Already what?” The intensity of Phoebe’s words made Simona furious. She backed out of the message and threw the phone onto the center console. “Already too lazy to care about you? Already found a new flame and tossed you aside?” “Phoebe, I’m telling you, you’re under my roof now. Those bad habits? I’ll break every single one of them out of you!” Phoebe opened her mouth as if to say something else, but instead just wiped her eyes, turned away, and fell silent. Curled up in the seat, she looked so small, so fragile. I watched her stubborn profile, my heart being shredded. The car finally pulled up outside a tattoo parlor. “Get out.” Simona unbuckled her seatbelt. Phoebe looked at the storefront in alarm. “What are you doing?” “Getting it removed.” Simona pointed to the tattoos on her arm, her tone brooking no argument. “No daughter of mine is going to walk around with that kind of trash.” “No!” Phoebe shrank back violently. Simona got out, rounded the car, pulled the door open, and reached for her. “Let go! I won’t do it!” “You don’t have a choice!” As they struggled, the tattoo parlor door opened. A man with sleeves of ink on his arms poked his head out. He saw Phoebe and frowned. “Who the hell are you? Bullying a kid?” 2 Phoebe looked like she’d found a lifeline. “Vin!” Simona paused, her eyes sharp as she swept her gaze over the man. “And who are you?” Vin ignored her. He walked right up to Phoebe, positioning himself between her and Simona. “Ma’am, in broad daylight… well, it’s night, but still. Dragging a kid around like this isn’t right, is it?” “I am her mother,” Simona stated, each word clipped. Vin raised an eyebrow, gave her a long appraisal, and then smiled, but without warmth. “Oh, I get it. You must be Reid Hawthorne’s deadbeat ex-wife, Simona. So, suddenly decided you had a daughter after all this time?” Simona’s face darkened. “That is none of your concern.” She looked the man up and down, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “Hmph. Reid’s social circle is truly broad these days. It’s no wonder he raised his daughter like this, running around with riff-raff.” With that, she wrenched Phoebe, who was sobbing and trying to squat on the ground, back onto her feet. “Since this is a friend’s shop, we’ll go to another one.” Simona’s voice was final. “I won’t go! Vin! Help me!” Phoebe struggled in vain, casting a desperate look at the man. Vin stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Simona, be reasonable! The kid doesn’t want to, you—” “I’m her mother!” Simona cut him off, her eyes cold. “How I discipline my daughter is not up to an outsider.” She half-pulled, half-carried Phoebe toward the car. Just before yanking the door open, Simona stopped and spoke without turning around. “Since you’re Reid’s friend, do me a favor and pass him a message.” “I’ve taken the child. If he has an ounce of fatherly instinct left, he can come find me to discuss it.” Then, she unceremoniously shoved Phoebe back into the car and prepared to leave. Vin stood rooted to the spot, stunned for a half-second, before erupting in a curse. “Is she a psychopath?… The man’s been dead for seven, eight years!” “How the hell am I supposed to give him a message? Go down to the damn underworld?” The thud of the car door slamming shut completely drowned out Vin’s words. The car pulled away, and Simona never heard him. Vin watched the taillights disappear, then sighed, his eyes slightly red. I looked at the man’s genuine sorrow and bowed silently before him. Vin, thank you for looking after Phoebe all these years. Unfortunately, as a ghost, my gratitude was lost to the night air. I turned and chased after the car that was vanishing around the corner. Inside, Phoebe was curled up in the passenger seat, tears streaming silently down her face. Simona glanced at her, breaking the silence with a hard, unyielding voice. “From now on, you are not to associate with people like that man.” “Your father only got worse mixing with that kind of trash! Look at you now…” “My dad is not!” Phoebe snapped her head up, her voice hoarse and crying. “Vin is a good person! You can’t—” “A good person?” Simona scoffed, interrupting her. “A good person encourages a fourteen-year-old to get tattoos? Lets you run around the streets?!” “Phoebe, your father was led astray by people like that—poor judgment, a messy circle, incapable of even raising his own child properly!” The more she spoke, the more convinced she sounded. Her tone was final. “You’re with me now. All those messy relationships are cut off.” “When your father realizes his mistake, then we can talk.” Phoebe looked utterly drained of strength and stopped arguing. Floating beside them, I looked at Simona’s self-righteous profile, my heart tearing apart. She didn’t know that after I died, my daughter had only survived thanks to the very people she labeled as “trash.” The car entered a quiet, high-end residential complex. Simona parked the car, took off her coat, wrapped it around Phoebe’s thin frame, and pulled her toward the building. Phoebe moved like a puppet, numbly following behind. Simona unlocked the door. Warm light and the aroma of cooked food spilled out. “You’re back? Why so late? Noah’s already asleep…” A gentle male voice rang out, and footsteps approached. A tall, handsome man in comfortable loungewear appeared in the entryway. His gaze went naturally to Simona, warm and intimate, but when he saw my daughter, his smile froze instantly. And my soul, upon seeing his face, completely seized up. 3 The man before me was my own brother, Logan. When our parents divorced, he went with our mother, and I stayed with our father. Over the years, we’d seen each other only a handful of times. I never imagined he would become my ex-wife’s current husband. Looking at the polished ease and refined warmth in his eyes, I could barely recognize him. When had they gotten together? How could it be him? A hundred questions flooded my consciousness. Logan looked at Phoebe’s face, a face that bore a slight resemblance to his own, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes. “This… this is Phoebe, right?” His voice sounded unnatural. He quickly looked over at Simona, his eyes shifting nervously. “Did you… did you run into Reid? Why… why didn’t he come up with you?” His fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of his shirt, a hint of guilt in his posture. Simona frowned, taking off her jacket with an annoyed gesture. “I didn’t run into him. I found her at the precinct. She was arrested for fighting.” She walked into the living room, sounding exhausted. “Look at the way she is! How is Reid even a father? He’s raised the child into this mess!” She grew angrier as she spoke, turning to Logan with an eager need for validation. “Logan, I plan to bring the child back and raise her myself. You don’t object, do you?” A flicker of jealousy, quickly suppressed, crossed Logan’s eyes before he gently put an arm around Simona’s shoulder. “Of course, I don’t object. She’s your daughter, which makes her our daughter.” “It’s just… Reid might…” He trailed off. “Don’t mention him!” Simona waved her hand dismissively. “If he had an ounce of conscience, he’d have come looking for me already!” “Since he doesn’t care, then he’ll never care!” Logan lowered his head, a nearly imperceptible curve forming at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, let’s not talk about that now. I made soup. It’s been keeping warm. Come eat something.” He said this and reached out to take Phoebe’s hand. Phoebe abruptly recoiled, stepping back and avoiding his touch. Logan’s hand froze in mid-air, a look of embarrassment crossing his face. Simona’s temper flared again. “Phoebe Hawthorne! What is that attitude!” “It’s fine, it’s fine. The child just got back, she’s probably scared,” Logan quickly intervened. “Phoebe, let’s just eat.” Phoebe just pressed her lips together and remained silent. After dinner, Simona checked the time and said to Logan, “Let Phoebe stay in the guest room tonight.” Logan looked troubled, hesitating. “The guest room… it hasn’t been cleaned in ages. I doubt we can get it ready tonight.” “How about we let Phoebe make do in the small spare room for tonight? It’s cramped, but it’s clean.” The so-called spare room was really a utility closet that had been sectioned off from the laundry area—a narrow space. Simona nodded, seemingly not noticing the slight. “Fine. That will have to do for now.” Phoebe remained silent the entire time, following Logan toward the tiny room. I floated beside her, looking at the space where it would be difficult even to turn around, and I felt a gut-wrenching ache. Is this my daughter’s place in this house? As soon as the door closed, Phoebe numbly lifted the hem of her hoodie. A cut was visible near her waist. With practiced ease, she pulled iodine swabs and a clean bandage from her backpack, setting about cleaning the wound herself. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the pain, but she didn’t make a sound. My spirit shook. Tears streamed down my face. My Phoebe, these ten years, you truly suffered so much. After dressing the wound, she collapsed onto the narrow, hard bed and fell into a deep sleep. I sat by her side, watching her sleeping face, stroking her cheek over and over. In the middle of the night, Phoebe’s breathing suddenly grew shallow and rapid. Her cheeks were flushed with an unnatural color. She was burning up. It must be a severe infection from the injury. “Phoebe? Phoebe!” I urgently called out to her, trying to shake her awake, but my ghost body only passed through her again and again. Seeing the continuous sweat on my daughter’s brow, I was frantic. I have to find Simona. I floated toward the master bedroom, rushed to Simona’s bedside, and screamed at her. “Simona! Wake up! Phoebe has a fever! Go check on her! She’s burning up!” But my desperate cries only dissolved into the quiet hum of the air conditioning. I tried to tap the nightstand lamp, to make a noise, but it was all useless. I could only watch Simona’s peaceful, sleeping profile. What do I do? Will my Phoebe be okay? She’s so small. What if the fever damages her? I rushed back to the spare room and stood guard by her bed. Watching her face contort in increasing pain, I was heartbroken and powerless. Was I wrong to divorce her so impulsively, to take our daughter away from her? Just then, Phoebe began to seize because of the high fever. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, trying again and again to hold her. “Help me. Someone help my daughter, save her.” But my daughter’s body didn’t move. My pleas vanished into the dark air. Just as I sank into despair, I heard a soft click. The door was slowly pushed open from the outside. 4 It was Logan. I latched onto him like a drowning man. My spirit surged forward frantically. “Brother, please, save her! Please, save Phoebe! She has a high fever! I beg you!” Logan saw Phoebe curled up on the bed. He frowned and instinctively turned, seeming ready to wake Simona. But just as he touched the doorknob, he hesitated. “Go! Go call Simona!” I frantically spun around him, urging him, trying to push him with my ethereal hands. Logan slowly turned back, his gaze fixed again on the moaning, suffering Phoebe on the bed. A mixture of struggle and jealousy flickered in his eyes. My gut feeling of dread sharpened instantly. Then, I heard his quiet murmur: “Why didn’t you just die with your father…” “It’s been ten years… ten years of peace… why did you have to show up now?” I froze. My spirit felt like it was fracturing. His words triggered a decade’s worth of memories in my mind. It was the fifth year of my marriage to Simona. Phoebe was four. For those five years, I genuinely believed I was living in a perfect world. Our daughter was sweet and lovable, and my wife was thoughtful and devoted. I thought we would be happy forever. The disaster struck on our sixth wedding anniversary. I had cooked a special dinner, but when I waited until midnight, all I got was a drunken Simona. I helped her into bed, but beneath her open collar, I saw a constellation of glaring hickeys. In that moment, my world imploded. I shook her awake, forcing an answer. In my hysterics, she admitted it, brazenly. She said she’d had too much to drink at an event and had a one-night stand with a business partner—that was all. “It was just a mistake any woman could be forgiven for, Reid. Do you have to make such a scene?” She rubbed her temples, her voice carrying a hint of impatience. Her cavalier attitude chilled me more than the betrayal itself. I couldn’t accept it and filed for divorce that very night. I was arrogant and proud, believing with foolish certainty that I could raise my daughter perfectly well without her—even better, in fact. The divorce was fast. I moved out with Phoebe. However, fate did not favor my stubbornness. In the first year after the divorce, I was in a car accident. My life was spared, but I was permanently paralyzed from the waist down. Sitting in that wheelchair, looking at my innocent daughter, I felt despair for the first time. I tried to contact Simona, wanting to send Phoebe back to her, but her phone number was disconnected. I finally found out through inquiries that she had moved to another city for work. I dragged my broken body and my daughter to a dilapidated tenement building. To survive, I learned to do handicrafts in my wheelchair and shamefully set up a small table on the street. It was the kindness of our neighbors—a shared meal, a handed-down piece of clothing—that helped us barely scrape by for another two years. But misery loves company. Two years later, I was diagnosed with leukemia. The doctor told me I had, at most, three months left. The day I got the diagnosis, I wheeled myself out of the hospital, my heart dead. At the hospital entrance, I ran into Logan, whom I hadn’t seen in years. He was well-dressed and healthy-looking. I wept, begging him to find Simona and give Phoebe to her. I tremblingly wrote a short letter, pressing it into his hand, pleading with Simona to take care of Phoebe for the sake of their mother-daughter bond. Logan took the letter, looking at me with what I took to be deep pity. He promised me he would find Simona. I believed him. I spent the next three months in agony, clinging to that final, weak hope. Three months later, I died. And my Phoebe never saw Simona. I had always thought that Logan hadn’t been able to find her. Only now, seeing him as Simona’s husband, did I realize: He never delivered the letter. “What’s wrong?” Simona’s sleepy voice suddenly broke through my painful memory. Logan’s body jerked. The next second, he quickly turned, his face instantly shifting into a perfectly crafted mask of panic and concern. “Sav! Come quickly! Phoebe looks sick!” Simona’s face changed. She rushed into the cramped spare room. “To the hospital!” Simona acted decisively, wrapping Phoebe tightly in a blanket and picking her up. Logan scrambled to follow. The lights in the late-night ER were stark and pale. The doctor examined the injury, frowned deeply, and sighed with a touch of exasperation. “This girl, she was fighting again, wasn’t she?” “The injury is serious this time. The infection caused the high fever. Any later, and it might have been really bad.” Simona keenly picked up on the information in the doctor’s words. Her brows furrowed. “You know her?” The doctor looked up at Simona. “Yes, this child is here every few months.” “Her father died of leukemia seven or eight years ago. She has no family to care for her, so she’s been scratching out a living on her own. It’s not easy…” Simona froze, her face a mask of disbelief. “What!? Leukemia?”

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I married an old-fashioned doctor. He always said I was too young. Yet he was willing to unbutton his shirt to keep my sister warm. Disheartened, I sighed. He said, “Just talk. Can you button my shirt back up first?” I ran away from home. He caught me at a hotel: “Not coming home? Planning to elope with that brat?” “Did he know you have to cuddle me to sleep every night?” “Speak.” That night, I was terrified. I had never seen Dr. Lee lose control like that. 1. I woke up from a nap at 6:30 PM. Calculating the time, Adrian Lee should be off work. [Hubby, are you off work?] [Can I come pick you up?] [A new bakery opened on Food Street. The cupcakes look so pretty! I want to eat them! Look!] Shutterstock I put down my phone. I put on makeup and changed my clothes. An hour passed. The chat box still only had my ramblings. Adrian hadn’t replied. I patted my cheeks, cheering myself up. It’s normal. Adrian is a doctor. Work is busy. He can’t always reply instantly. Forget it, I’ll just go to the hospital to pick him up. Just as I was about to leave, I got a call from my mom. “Luna, where are you?” “Come to the hospital quickly!” “Something happened to your sister!” 2. Rushing to the hospital, I saw Adrian first. My sister was crying, saying something I couldn’t hear. He sighed. Unbuttoned his white coat and draped it over my sister’s shoulders. My steps paused. My mom saw me: “Luna, come here!” I pretended nothing was wrong. Walking over, I realized my sister was covered in blood. “Sis! What happened! Are you okay?” My sister’s face was pale. She smiled and said, “It’s okay, this isn’t my blood. Don’t worry.” My sister encountered a car accident. As a doctor, she gave first aid on the roadside. My mom saw her covered in blood on the news. Scared, she called me. My sister wiped her tears and said, “Thanks to Adrian. He accepted this batch of patients. Otherwise, I really wouldn’t know what to do.” Adrian shook his head: “It’s nothing. Just doing my job.” My sister’s eyes reddened again: “Just a pity, a few of them couldn’t be saved…” As she spoke, she sobbed softly. Adrian handed her a tissue and said, “You did your best.” My sister shook her head, saying, “No. If I had been a little faster, appeared a little earlier, maybe I could have saved them.” I patted my sister’s shoulder to comfort her. Only then did Adrian seem to notice me, turning his head to ask, “Why are you here?” I froze for a moment, replying blankly: “To pick you up from work.” “No need. I have to work overtime tonight. You go back first.” Adrian’s voice was always steady, no matter who he was talking to. “Oh.” He was already walking away. My sister stood up and chased after him: “I happen to be free. Is there anything I can help with?” The two left together. I looked at their backs. Truly a perfect match. 3. When Adrian came back, it was deep into the night. He slept in the guest room. Always like this. Married for half a year, he refused to touch me. Every time we were together, he would say: “You’re still too young.” “Be good, listen.” I didn’t want to listen. I got up. Like every night, I crawled into his bed. Adrian had just showered, wearing a towel around his waist. Water dripped from his hair onto his collarbone. I swallowed and heard him say: “Come here.” I ran over foolishly. He gave me his slippers. “Not wearing shoes again.” It’s this time already. Who cares about shoes? I pounced on him, ready to devour him. Ah, abs. Ah, V-line. Ah… Adrian pushed me away. His gaze was a bit unnatural. The towel tented up slightly. Adrian fled in defeat. “I’m going to take another shower.” I hugged him from behind. “Adrian Lee, do you plan to hide from me forever?” “Either consummate the marriage, or divorce.” “You choose.” 4. Adrian was very stiff. His body was hot yet cold. The little girl’s small hands were like fire, igniting flames wherever they touched. “Luna, listen, you’re still too young.” “I’m not young. I’m graduating next year.” I walked in front of Adrian. His eyes held emotions I couldn’t understand, suppressing something. I cupped his face, looking into his dark eyes. “Hubby, don’t you want me?” The next moment. Kisses overwhelmed me. Landing all over my body. Water droplets from Adrian’s hair hit me. Very cold, a bit stinging. He picked me up. His whole being wrapped around me. It hurt. I felt his deep possessiveness. Burning hot. Different from his usual calm demeanor towards everything. I could feel he was loving me fiercely. That night was long. Couldn’t stop at all. We tossed and turned until the sun rose. I was so sleepy I couldn’t take it anymore, finally begging for mercy repeatedly. I only heard Adrian’s hoarse voice: “Call me Hubby.” “Hubby.” His bite mark landed on my back. I passed out. 5. When I woke up, Adrian wasn’t by my side. “Urgent task at the hospital. I’ll try to come back early. Food is warm in the pot, eat when you wake up.” I let out a long sigh of relief. Covered the marks all over my body with the quilt. Turned over, wanting to sleep a bit more. My phone vibrated non-stop. It was my friend, Sam. I picked up: “Spit it out.” My voice was frighteningly hoarse. Sam was startled: “Grandma, do you have a fever again? Why do you sound like Marge Simpson?” It was from screaming last night. Adrian, that psycho. Tormenting me in all kinds of ways. I blushed and said: “None of your business. What is it?” “Oh, the thing you asked me to check before, I checked it.” “What thing?” I forgot. “About Adrian and your sister. Didn’t you suspect there was something between them? You forgot?” I really… forgot. Remembering my sister crying yesterday, my heart sank. “What… did you find out?” Sam sighed, his tone rarely serious. “Luna, are you sure you want to know?” “If you don’t want to hear it now, it’s not too late.”

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My childhood friend’s girlfriend is a chronic doomscroller, obsessed with the latest TikTok trend. She pestered him to play along: “Julian, you’re a year older than me. Why didn’t you come see me when I was born? Do you not love me?” Julian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He casually played along, then turned to his serious, old-fashioned uncle who happened to be there: “Uncle Adrian, how would you answer that?” Adrian, usually a man of few words, said: “I did go see her.” “Not only did I see her, I even held her when she was a baby.” As he spoke, his gaze slowly landed on me. 1. Julian and I were childhood sweethearts. For the first twenty years of our lives, we were inseparable. Not just me, but our parents and all our friends thought we were a match made in heaven. When I was 18, my parents brought up the idea of a marriage alliance with the Sterling family and asked for my opinion. I actually had feelings for Julian. If our families could unite, it would be a beautiful story. We were too young then, so the engagement was put on hold, but we went to the same Ivy League university. During those two years, our friendship was solid, but romance hadn’t quite blossomed. Everyone around us thought it was just a matter of time, and I allowed my feelings for Julian to deepen bit by bit. Until the winter of our sophomore year, Julian excitedly told me: “Elara, I met a girl I like!” It wasn’t me. He was so happy. Turns out, in the past twenty years, he never developed romantic feelings for me. Those hand-holdings and hugs were just what best friends do in Julian’s eyes. Feelings can’t be forced, and I wouldn’t debase myself. I took back my heart. So, under the surprised gazes of everyone around us, Julian started dating a girl from an ordinary middle-class family. The girl was pretty, a bit spoiled, clearly cherished by her parents. He introduced his girlfriend to everyone in our circle. My existence seemed a bit awkward. But our mutual friends weren’t optimistic about them. They always believed that once Julian’s novelty wore off, he would realize that he and I were the true match. Someone comforted me: “Elara, Julian is just looking for something fresh. He’s never seen such a naive and innocent girl. He’ll get tired of it after a while.” That didn’t happen. Julian dated her for two years. For two years, he paraded his girlfriend around town. Not only me, but my parents and his parents heard about it. My dad was so angry he wanted to go over and curse them out. My mom stopped him: “If we don’t become in-laws, we don’t. Why make it ugly? Is our daughter worried about finding someone?” “Is this about not becoming in-laws?” My dad was still angry. When the two families discussed the engagement back then, Julian couldn’t possibly have been unaware. He was an adult. At the very least, his attitude was tacit consent. Even though he and I were never officially together, we almost got engaged. It was my mom who said we were too young and should spend more time together. In terms of social etiquette, he embarrassed me and my family. But he and I were still friends. Our families had business dealings, and we had to maintain appearances. But we could only be friends. Tonight was Julian’s birthday. He booked a huge private room at a high-end club and invited quite a few people. I was among them. Of course, his girlfriend, Bella, was there too. 2. After Julian started dating, my contact with him decreased. But there were some historical issues. Before Julian met Bella, our chat history and interactions on social media weren’t exactly platonic. After he started dating, his girlfriend naturally had the right to check his phone. They fought about this a few times. Once, when Julian apologized to me, I learned that Bella had taken his phone and deleted my contact info. At that time, I hadn’t contacted him for a while, so I didn’t even notice. Bella wanted to enter Julian’s circle, so she inevitably heard about me. These rich kids who grew up together were somewhat exclusive, and someone must have told her something. I understood the situation and stayed away from Julian. For his birthday, I originally planned to drop off the gift and leave. But as soon as I entered, my gaze swept over a figure in the corner. I froze for a second, then my phone lit up. After reading the message, I silently found a seat and sat down. “Elara, you came?” Julian looked a bit surprised. “I heard you’ve been interning with your dad recently. I thought you wouldn’t have time.” I smiled and handed him the birthday gift: “Happy birthday.” “Elara,” Bella’s voice rang out, “Long time no see. Why the mature style recently? You look like you’re pushing thirty.” Bella was wearing a custom pink evening gown worth tens of thousands, her hair curled, looking exceptionally playful. She certainly didn’t lack emotional intelligence; she was doing this on purpose. I looked down at the women’s suit I was wearing and chuckled lightly: “Right? That means I look like a female entrepreneur.” Julian smoothed things over: “Elara, Bella is just joking. Don’t take it to heart.” Of course I didn’t take it to heart. Not everyone deserves a place in my heart. I sat a bit far from them, but my vision and hearing were good enough. Bella probably saw a new trend on TikTok and suddenly asked Julian: “Julian, you’re a year older than me. Why didn’t you come see me when I was born? Do you not love me?” After this sentence, not only Julian laughed, but the people next to him also laughed and teased: “Yeah, Julian, why didn’t you bring baby formula to see your future wife back then?” This teasing was well-intentioned. Bella was pretty, the innocent kind of pretty. Her personality wasn’t bad either. Having dated Julian for two years, she had some friendship with some of the people here. So her emotional intelligence wasn’t low. Julian replied casually: “I was busy getting spanked by my mom for not drinking my milk properly back then.” Laughter erupted again. Julian turned around and saw his uncle, who had unexpectedly said he would come to celebrate, was still there. He asked playfully: “Uncle Adrian, if it were you, how would you answer?” Julian’s uncle, Adrian Sterling. Five years older than us. A late child of the Sterling grandparents. He was the “other people’s child” since he was little. Although only a few years older, his seniority was there. Plus, Adrian’s resume was simply too outstanding. The rich second generation in the circle were quite afraid of him. I used to call him Uncle Adrian too. Julian probably just wanted to see what kind of brain circuit his steady and slightly old-fashioned uncle would have. Someone laughed: “Julian, don’t make it hard for Uncle Adrian. He’s busy with a myriad of affairs every day, where would he find time to date?” The next second, Adrian spoke: “I did go see her.” “Huh?” The man who usually didn’t smile much added softly: “Not only did I see her, I even held her when she was a baby.” Unnoticed by others, his gaze landed straight on me. “…” The others thought he was joking: “Hahahaha Uncle Adrian, didn’t expect you to be so good at playing along.” No one took it seriously. Except me. Adrian’s gaze didn’t move away. Even though I didn’t meet his eyes, I felt it was a bit blatant. After the party, I found my car in the parking lot. Only after getting in did I realize someone was already there. The driver hesitated to speak. Adrian’s light laughter came: “Mind giving me a ride? I didn’t drive tonight.” The car door closed, and I heard the person beside me say: “I can’t remember the way home. Miss Li, is it convenient to let me stay for a night?” 3. Adrian pretended to be drunk and leaned on my shoulder. His warm breath occasionally landed on the skin of my neck, making his presence very felt. I looked out the window, remembering the night Julian announced his relationship on Instagram two years ago. Saying I wasn’t sad would be a lie. Julian announced it less than a month after telling me he met a girl he liked. I was still thinking about how our families’ relationship should end. What caught me even more off guard was that at the same time, he took his girlfriend to meet our mutual friends. Maybe Julian just wanted to show how much he liked his girlfriend, but there were always people in the circle who didn’t like me. During that time, some sarcastic remarks naturally followed. Whether I cared or not, I couldn’t avoid being mocked. Adrian came back at that time. He seemed to be following up on a project in New York that hadn’t finished yet. During those days, I didn’t want to see anyone from the Sterling family, but Adrian just appeared directly in front of me. It was winter break. Adrian asked me if I wanted to go to the US with him to relax. I was stunned, not understanding what he meant. For a long time, Julian and I were a bit afraid of this uncle of his. Although only five years older, since I can remember, Adrian clearly didn’t play with us childish kids. Genes favored him; Adrian was so outstanding it left people speechless. As we grew older, he gradually became an existence to look up to. His courage and handsome appearance were clearly superior to his peers, and many girls liked him. I didn’t talk to him much. Many times, even if we had contact, it was because of Julian. So I didn’t understand why he invited me to New York. Adrian asked me: “Do you still like Julian?” I was silent for a moment, not knowing how to answer his question. “It doesn’t matter if you still like him. He’s just a man,” Adrian said. “You’ll meet more than one in your life.” I didn’t know if he was comforting me. “Julian likes someone else. Have you considered liking someone else?” Adrian looked at me and said in a very calm tone, “Considered me?” Shock overwhelmed my sadness more directly. Tears that were welling up now fell, but my eyes were full of speechless shock. Adrian gently wiped my cheek with a tissue, wiping away that tear. “Don’t cry for someone who isn’t worth it,” he paused, then added slowly, “Of course, you can treat it as a detox for your body.” “…” It was the first time I knew Adrian had such a sense of humor. He said: “If your initial intention for choosing Julian was to consider the marriage alliance between the two families, then my conditions overall should be better than his.” More than just a bit better. Adrian was almost certainly the next head of the Sterling family. Julian didn’t have this ambition, and his sophistication was far inferior to this uncle. “If you just purely liked Julian as a person, then he has withdrawn from the journey to win your heart. I think I’m not being immoral.” 4. Going to New York with Adrian to relax wasn’t because I was moved by his words, but because he asked: “Do you plan to enter the family company after graduation?” “I’m discussing a project in New York. Want to come and see?” Adrian’s ability was obvious to all. At that time, many people, including me, admired him. Admiration for the strong is a very normal mindset. I really wanted to see Adrian’s work. So even when he volunteered to be my marriage partner, I still went to New York with him. Adrian took me with him for two weeks. There was no adult romance. He taught me a lot like a senior taking care of a junior. I saw his strategizing and calmness in business. Without any personal feelings, choosing Adrian was far better than Julian. The benefits were more direct. “But, Uncle Adrian, Julian is your nephew.” The night before leaving New York, in the hotel’s lounge bar, I sat opposite Adrian, soothing jazz music playing in my ears. The bar’s lighting was dim, tinged with a hint of ambiguity. Adrian’s expression didn’t change. Those calm eyes landed on my face, meeting my gaze: “Yes, what he did wasn’t kind. You can consider becoming his aunt. In the future, you’ll be his elder.” “…” Be Julian’s aunt? I admit Adrian’s words were tempting, but I had other considerations for my life. Julian hurt me, but he couldn’t affect my next step in life. “Uncle Adrian, I have another question.” Adrian: “You can ask many questions. Also, you can call me by my name directly.” Call him by his name. I’ve called him Uncle since I was a kid, following Julian. Naturally, I treated him as an elder. But now, our relationship was heading in another direction, adding a sense of immorality. “What is your view… on me?” I paused. “Do you want to ask if I’m pursuing you for profit or something else?” Adrian asked back. Before I could answer, he said: “Elara, a five-year age gap shouldn’t be too big. Besides Julian, I can also be considered your childhood friend, right?” I was stunned. “I’m a few years older than you. Before you went to kindergarten, you often ran over to play with Julian. At that time, the adults at home were busy, and you and Julian both stuck to me quite a bit, remember?” Adrian said softly. His words triggered my memories. It seems kids always like to play with older kids. Julian and I pestered Adrian when we were little. But as we grew older, Adrian was busy with school, then with business. He became the best among his peers, and our relationship naturally changed. “When you graduated from high school, my brother and sister-in-law hoped you would be their daughter-in-law and discussed the engagement with your parents. At that time, you and Julian were close,” Adrian changed the subject, “But Elara, now he withdrew first. Even if I’m his elder, it’s not immoral for me to pursue a single girl, right?” Adrian took me home. During the half month in New York, he didn’t cross the line at all. That Chinese New Year, Julian and his parents probably were too embarrassed to come to my house for New Year greetings because of his relationship. The Sterling family sent Adrian over. That day, there were many people. No one knew that Adrian asked me in my bedroom: “Elara, have you thought about it?”

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