Category: English

The day my wife gave birth, I saw my own cousin swap our babies in the hospital nursery. I pretended I didn’t see a thing. I brought his son home and raised him as my own. Eighteen years later, the boy I raised was accepted into a top-tier university. My biological son, however, had been systematically abused by my cousin for years, leaving him permanently disabled. At the university acceptance party, my cousin showed up with my crippled son and a paternity test. “There was a mix-up at the hospital all those years ago,” he announced. “It’s time to switch them back.” I gave him a knowing, cryptic smile. “Of course.” “Evan, I brought some of that raw honey from back home. For you and Leo.” My cousin, Mark, knocked on my door, just as he always did. Ever since I’d brought his son home, he was always finding excuses to visit. Sometimes it was to “discuss parenting techniques.” Other times it was so “the boys could play together and keep each other company.” He’d even shown up in the middle of the night, claiming he’d had a nightmare that something had happened to Leo and he just had to check. It got to the point where my wife, Sarah, would complain that Mark came over more often than he clocked in at work. To make things easier, he even rented an apartment in my complex. “Family should stick together,” he’d said. “Don’t want to let the relationship fade.” I knew the real reason. He wanted to keep a close eye on his son, Leo. I never called him out on it. I just opened the door like I always did. He was dressed in an expensive, well-tailored suit, carrying a few jars of honey. Trailing behind him was a sallow, scrawny boy with a bruised face. That was my son. Mark had named him Damien. The moment he stepped inside, Mark set down the honey and went straight for Leo. “Leo, your birthday’s tomorrow! What do you want? Uncle Mark will get it for you!” He gently stroked Leo’s head, his affection overflowing. Leo flashed a sweet smile. “Anything from you is a great gift, Uncle!” Mark’s grin widened. “See? Our Leo is so smart and sweet. Not like that useless brat of mine. Dumb as a rock.” He shot a venomous glare at my son by the door, then marched over, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him inside. “Get in here, you idiot! What are you, a guard dog? Just standing there?” “I don’t know who you take after, you worthless piece of trash. Just looking at you makes me sick!” Then, right in front of me, Mark kicked my son so hard he stumbled and fell. His head slammed against the coffee table, splitting his forehead open. Blood began to pour down his face. Leo, standing nearby, gasped in shock. But my son didn’t cry. He didn’t make a sound. He just quickly got to his feet, wiped the blood from his brow as if it were routine, and, wincing in pain, said meekly to Mark, “I’m sorry, Dad. I was wrong.” Apologizing after a beating was a daily ritual for him, one I had witnessed countless times in my own home. Sarah rushed to get the first-aid kit. As she staunched the bleeding, she shot Mark a disapproving look. “Mark, how can you be so rough with your own child? He’s your flesh and blood! Don’t you feel any pity?” “He was born worthless,” Mark said with a shrug. “He’s got the face of a corpse. Can’t even compare to Leo. I’m doing him a favor by not killing him.” He didn’t spare my son another glance, turning back to Leo with a beaming smile. “Leo, I ordered your favorite superhero cake. I’ll bring it over tomorrow for your birthday!” “Thank you, Uncle,” Leo replied politely. He was used to Mark’s blatant favoritism. Seeing this, my son mustered his courage and spoke up, his voice barely a whisper. “Dad, tomorrow is my birthday too. Could I… could I have a new pair of shoes?” My eyes fell to his feet. He was wearing a pair of dirty, torn sandals, the soles worn completely flat. They were a pair Leo had thrown out last year. Mark had picked them up, declaring that Damien deserved nothing more than Leo’s cast-offs. He had worn them for a full year, even now, in the dead of winter, his feet covered in chilblains. “You little bastard, you deserve to wear rags! A birthday? You think you’re worthy of a birthday?!” Mark launched into another vicious beating. The sounds of his curses and my son’s cries filled the room. I watched, my face a cold, emotionless mask. I said nothing. Sarah tried to intervene, and even Leo pleaded with his uncle to stop. Eventually, perhaps worried about frightening Leo further, Mark dragged my son out of the house. The next day was Leo’s birthday. Mark arrived early, gifts and cake in hand. Sarah noticed he was alone. “Where’s Damien?” she asked. “It’s his birthday too. Why isn’t he here?” Mark’s reply was casual, dismissive. “Oh, him? I broke his leg when we got home yesterday. He’s still unconscious.” He said it so lightly, a proud smirk even playing on his lips, as if crippling my son was a badge of honor. Ignoring Sarah’s horrified stare, he pushed his way inside, placing the gifts and cake in front of Leo with a flourish. “Happy birthday, my precious Leo! Uncle Mark won’t let anything ruin your special day!” As Leo took a gift, a small cut on the back of his hand became visible. Mark’s face instantly darkened. He rounded on me. “Evan, what is this? How did you let Leo get hurt?!” “Kids get bumps and bruises,” I replied, my voice flat. “Your son is covered in them every day.” Mark exploded. “How can you compare that worthless piece of—” He cut himself off, realizing he’d gone too far. He took a deep breath, composing himself. “What I mean is, Leo has been raised in comfort. He’s more precious than that waste of space I have at home. You need to be more careful with him!” Sarah frowned, her voice filled with reproach. “You have some nerve. If you hadn’t been beating your own son in our living room yesterday, leaving blood everywhere, Leo wouldn’t have tried to clean it up and hurt himself in the first place.” Mark turned to Leo for confirmation. “Leo, is that true?” Leo nodded seriously. “Yes. I wanted to help Mom and Dad.” Mark’s voice softened with pity. “Sometimes you’re too good, Leo. Let your dad handle the chores. Your only job in this house is to be happy, you understand?” He then busied himself with Leo’s party, cooking, decorating, doing everything himself. After they had eaten, he asked eagerly, “Leo, tell Uncle, what’s your birthday wish? I’ll make it come true.” Leo didn’t hesitate. “I want to get into a top university!” Mark beamed, patting his head. “That, I can’t help you with. But you’re smart enough to get in on your own. And when you do, I’ll have a surprise for you that you’ll never forget.” I saw the adoration in Mark’s eyes and allowed myself the faintest of smiles. A surprise he’ll never forget? My dear cousin. I have one for you, too. Every year, Mark was more enthusiastic about Leo’s birthday than Sarah or I were. As for my son, after his leg was broken, I never saw him again. Whenever Sarah asked, Mark would dismiss her with a wave of his hand. “Don’t talk to me about that unlucky animal. Just thinking about him makes me sick.” Because of Mark’s deliberate avoidance, it wasn’t until Leo was accepted into a prestigious university that I saw my son again. At the celebratory banquet I was hosting for Leo, Mark appeared, my son limping beside him. He pulled out a paternity test and, in front of all our friends and relatives, presented it to me. “Evan, Damien’s been having some health issues lately. I took him to the doctor and found out… he’s not my son. There was a mix-up at the hospital. Damien is your son, and Leo… Leo is mine.” “We’ve been separated for so long. It’s time for me to be reunited with my real son. We have to switch them back.” He even managed to squeeze out a few tears, his gaze fixed on Leo with a mixture of fatherly love and feigned guilt, as if he were the victim who had endured years of unimaginable suffering. The room erupted in gasps and whispers. “They worked so hard to raise such a brilliant student, and now they have to just give him up?” “Everyone knows how much Evan has done for Leo. He’s the reason Leo got into such a good school. You can’t just erase eighteen years of love and effort!” “Who could possibly bear it?” One was a smart, well-behaved, promising university student. The other was a disheveled, emaciated boy with a permanent limp. Anyone would choose the former. But amidst the murmurs, I smiled a cryptic smile. “Of course. Since there was a mistake, it’s only right to correct it.” My words stunned the room. Mark’s eyes widened in disbelief, shocked that I had agreed so readily. Even Sarah stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Evan, are you crazy? You’re just going to take his word for it, based on a piece of paper that could be fake, and give Leo away?” My mother-in-law chimed in, her voice frantic. “He’s right, Evan! This is a huge decision. How can you make it without investigating properly?” I met their protests with a firm, unwavering voice. “Leo is his son. I saw them switch the babies myself.” The room fell into a horrified silence. Sarah stamped her foot in desperation. “That’s impossible! The day you took me to the hospital, we were in a car accident. The windshield shattered, and you were impaled, but you ignored your own injuries and carried me to the hospital. The doctors said your organs were severely damaged, that you’d lost too much blood. They said if you had carried me for two more minutes, you would have died.” “But you just smiled and said that as long as the baby and I were safe, nothing else mattered. You said we were more important than your own life.”

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To cure the “false heir’s” depression, my fiancée, Wendy Reed, who had sworn she would marry no one but me, secretly went and got a marriage license with him. In turn, I agreed to the arranged marriage my family had prepared, wedding the high-society heiress Riva Thorne, who had been secretly in love with me for years. For seven years of marriage, she loved me to the bone, her touch a constant presence every night, clinging to me as if she had a desperate case of skin hunger. I thought I had finally found happiness. Until one night, after we’d made love, I overheard her talking to her best friend. “Jules is a global superstar now. When are you dumping Jack?” “It doesn’t matter. Being with someone I don’t love is the same no matter who it is. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jack, make sure he doesn’t mess with the happiness Jules has worked so hard for.” I opened her laptop in her study. In a hidden folder were over a hundred thousand photos of Jules Carter, and a hundred unsent love letters. No matter how lost I had been, it was time to wake up. I ordered a life-sized mannequin and planned a fire. From this day forward, through heaven and hell, our paths would never cross again. 1 After successfully ordering the necessary props online, I shut down the screen. In just three more days, according to my plan, I would vanish from Riva’s world forever. I turned, and my eyes met hers, sparkling with a smile. She had aired out the scent of her perfume outside, waiting until her own body was warm before daring to wrap her arms around me from behind. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” The familiar warmth of her body, the embrace that had always been my greatest source of security, now sent a bitter ache through my heart. We had been married for seven years, and she loved me to the bone. Everyone in the elite circles knew that Riva Thorne, the great heiress, was utterly devoted to her husband. She told me it was love at first sight when we were children, that she had carried a torch for me for fourteen years. At our wedding, she had sworn her vows with tears in her eyes, saying that marrying me was like a dream come true. She knew my past. She used her family’s power to make life hell for the childhood sweetheart who had abandoned me, sabotaging Jules’s career to avenge me, claiming she hated anyone who had ever wronged me. Her performance was flawless. So flawless that even I, an award-winning actor, couldn’t see the cracks. A bitter memory surfaced. In the throes of passion, she always liked to call me “Jules.” Jules, Jules, Jules. I, like a fool, thought she was calling for me, Jack. Now I knew. From the very beginning, she had been calling for him. I lowered my head, secretly wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. She didn’t notice, continuing on her own. “Your… brother, won that big award. There’s an industry party tomorrow, but you should just stay home with me. I’m afraid seeing him will upset you.” I silently counted in my head. This was at least the hundredth time she had used an excuse like this to keep me from a social event. I used to think it was just her possessiveness, and I indulged her, even choosing to step back from my career at its peak. Now I knew the truth. It was all to clear the way for Jules. “I have a meeting with Director Lee tomorrow. He wants me to be the lead in his next film. I can’t miss it.” “It’s fine, we won’t go. I’ll smooth it over for you. Even if my husband never works another day in his life, I can support you.” But I had no desire for fame or fortune. I had once told her that starring in one of Director Lee’s films, earning the role on my own merit, was my lifelong dream. At the time, she had sworn she would support me in making that dream a reality. She hadn’t forgotten. It was just that Jules wanted the role, too. So my dream had to become his stepping stone. Seeing my prolonged silence, she coaxed, “Jack, darling, let’s not be difficult, alright? We can go to parties anytime. Isn’t the time we have together more precious?” “The day after tomorrow is our seven-year anniversary. I promise I’ll give you a surprise you’ll never forget, okay?” I forced a smile. “Of course. And I’ll have a great gift for you, too.” The seven-year itch, Riva. We’re not going to make it. From now on, you’ll be on your own. Just you. My gift to you… is letting you go. 2 In the middle of the night, after Riva had fallen asleep in my arms, I couldn’t stop myself from getting up and going to the study. Her own words, the photos, the love letters on her computer—it was enough to shatter any hope I had left. But our seven years together weren’t a lie. We had so many sweet memories. I couldn’t let it go. I walked to the small safe by her desk. It was like Pandora’s box, mysterious and dangerous. I had asked her a few times, during our moments of intimacy in this very room, what she kept inside that was so precious. But she would always change the subject, never telling me the combination, only challenging me to guess. I had tried my birthday, her birthday, our wedding anniversary—all wrong. Now, with a trembling hand, I typed in Jules’s birthday. For the first time, I prayed I was wrong. The safe clicked open. My heart plummeted. Inside lay a pair of matching rings. Engraved on the inner band were the initials S.T. & J.C. Riva Thorne & Jules Carter. The style was old, but the rings were pristine, clearly cherished and meticulously cared for by their owner. All the strength drained from my body. A sharp, gouging pain tore through my heart. No matter how foolish I had been, the reality was now unavoidable. Riva had never, not for a single moment, loved me. The next day, for the first time, I defied Riva’s wishes and decided to go to the party. Her expression darkened, but she didn’t try to stop me. She only insisted, “You can go, but my Jack is so handsome, you have to stay by my side. If that brother of yours tries to bully you, I can protect you right away.” She acted like a loyal puppy guarding its master. But I knew she was just afraid I would leave her sight and steal Jules’s thunder. I had no intention of doing so. I was about to fake my own death. I just wanted one last chance to see the directors and writers who had helped me in my career. When we arrived, all eyes were on me and Jules. “The lead in Director Lee’s next film has to be Jack Vance. He’s got Riva Thorne backing him, and everyone knows he’s a phenomenal actor.” Hearing this, Jules stormed over to the group. “What makes you so sure? That role is mine!” The crowd scoffed. “You still have less experience than Jack. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” “Yeah, so what if he’s married to Wendy Reed? We’re talking about the Thorne family here. It’s obvious who’s getting the resources.” “Right? You won one little award. A little humility would do you good.” Jules was practically hopping with rage. “You people! Just you wait, I’ll make you eat your words!” He shot me a venomous look. “Some people can enjoy their moment for now. We’ll see who’s humiliated later! Hmph!” He then shoved me, hard. I stumbled, my knee cracking against the corner of a table. The pain brought tears to my eyes. But Riva, who had promised to protect me, acted as if she had seen nothing, letting his actions slide. I lowered my gaze, trying to ignore the bitter sting in my heart. Suddenly, the lights in the banquet hall dimmed. It was time to announce the film’s true leading man. “Let’s give a big congratulations to Jules Carter!” “And a special thank you to the billion-dollar-box-office screenwriter, ‘Sylvie,’ for her support! She has generously waived her fee for this script and even invested three hundred million dollars, all to ensure that Jules could star in her new film. Because he is her one and only leading man, her muse!” Jules took the stage, grabbed the microphone, and looked down on the crowd, his voice dripping with scorn. “Jack Vance. After all these years, you still can’t win against me.” “Loser!” Jules stood in the spotlight, the center of everyone’s universe, shining and triumphant. I looked at Riva beside me. She was holding my hand, but her eyes were filled with unadulterated joy for him. My own eyes darkened. I laughed bitterly to myself. Yesterday, in her study, I had accidentally seen the manuscript by ‘Sylvie.’ The title page read: “To my one and only leading man, Jules.” Sylvie… was Riva. It was the love she could never speak aloud. Even though I had expected it, seeing it play out before my eyes still sent a dull, throbbing ache through my chest. Director Lee walked over to me, his voice a low comfort. “Don’t worry about it, kid. There will always be a place for you in my films.” I shook my head with a sad smile. “Thank you for your kindness, Director. But I’m afraid… there won’t be another chance.” 3 Riva, feigning ignorance, snuggled into my arms. “I’ll fund a few movies for you to play around with, how does that sound?” “I have a surprise for you tonight on the waterfront. Having my love is more important than any leading role.” I stretched my lips into a smile. Words that once sounded like honey now tasted like cloying, expired sugar. But to avoid suspicion, I forced myself to swallow them. “Okay.” After expressing my gratitude to Director Lee and the other industry veterans, I made to leave early. She dismissed the driver, planning to take me for a drive herself. But the second before she started the car, a message lit up her phone. I glanced over. I recognized the number. It was Jules. Her expression changed instantly. She looked at me, hesitant. “Jack, something urgent came up at the office. Would you mind going to the waterfront by yourself?” I froze for a second, then smiled. “It’s fine. You go take care of business.” She pressed a quick kiss to my lips and hurried back towards the banquet hall. I started the car, but not in the direction of the waterfront. I drove back to our villa. The rest of my time would be spent preparing for tomorrow. I gathered all the memories of my time with Riva. The digital ones, including the backups in the cloud, I permanently deleted. The physical ones, I prepared to burn. Suddenly, an anonymous text popped up on my phone. The first thing I saw was a photo of a drunk Riva, sleeping beside Jules. 【She has a sensitive stomach, but she still drank herself sick to protect me. You’re not mad at me, are you, brother?】 【The truth is, even though she publicly opposes me and steals my resources for you, she secretly compensates me a hundred times over. Do you know why?】 【Did you know Riva has been my little follower since we were kids? She’s always loved me. Marrying you was just to keep you in check!】 【You didn’t really think someone would just love you for no reason, did you?】 【She says every night, she has to imagine it’s me to even go through with it. She even said you’re just second-hand goods she didn’t want, that you didn’t even save your first time for her. Disgusting!】 The messages came in a relentless flood. My heart remained a placid lake. I just worked faster, packing my things. After moving the mannequin into the bedroom and ensuring it would burn completely, I doused the house in gasoline. I forwarded all of Jules’s texts to the most notorious paparazzi team in the entertainment industry, then snapped my SIM card in half and tossed it into the bushes. I pressed the ignition button and walked away, towards the distant horizon. The path ahead was dark, but that was fine. I knew I would eventually walk into the dawn. On the other side of town, Riva was completely oblivious. She looked down at Jules, her tone tinged with an unconscious reprimand. “What are you doing here? Tomorrow is my anniversary with Jack. This will make him suspicious.” Jules’s eyes reddened. “Are you blaming me?” Riva panicked. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Jules.” He crossed his arms and let out a small huff, a grudging acceptance. A call from her head housekeeper came in. Riva frowned and silenced it. After this happened a dozen more times, she finally realized something was wrong. “What is it?” “Ma’am, it’s terrible! Sir… he… he set the house on fire and killed himself!” “We tried to fight the fire, but… there was nothing we could do.”

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After the Archon and I brought twin dragon eggs into the world, I faked my death and fled with one of them. Three hundred years later, I had to venture out on business. I gave my fledgling, who had just recently mastered his human form, a final instruction. “My darling, you be good and wait for Mother. I’ll be right back.” He nodded obediently. The moment my back was turned, he secretly followed me into the mortal realm. When I found him, I had no choice but to bring him along. Until one day, I was leading him home by the hand. Just as we reached the entrance to our hidden vale, a figure hurtled towards us. “Mother! What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for a whole month!” I stared. My son was at home? Then who was this I was holding hands with? 1 Truth be told, I’d noticed something was off with Ash about two weeks ago. Normally, he was the unrivaled terror of Azurewood Vale. From the ancient sprites in the mountains to the smallest fish in the stream, nothing had escaped his brand of playful torment. But on this trip to the mortal realm, he was surprisingly well-behaved. He had even mastered the veiling charm I’d spent half a month trying to teach him, using it with flawless skill. “Oh, my sweet boy, if you’d told me you could hide your aura so well, I would have brought you out ages ago,” I said, overjoyed. I cupped his face in my hands, squishing his cheeks. Usually, he would squirm and protest, “Mother, don’t pinch my face!” But this time, he just let me have my way, his face flushing red as his eyes grew wide and bright. Strange. Very strange indeed. But I didn’t suspect a thing, assuming he’d finally taken my words to heart. And so, we spent a month in the mortal realm in a state of perfect, blissful harmony. 2 Until now. Staring at the two identical versions of “Ash” before me, I finally realized my mistake. “Mother! Who is he?!” my real son cried out, far less composed than I was. He stared at my hand, clasped around the other boy’s, a look of utter betrayal on his face. “When… when did you give me a little brother?!” “…” That over-the-top expression, that theatrical pose—it confirmed it in an instant. Yes. This one was mine. “What nonsense are you talking about? I was only gone a month! How could I possibly have a brother this big for you?” I cuffed him lightly on the head. Ash yelped in mock pain but didn’t back down. “Then why does he look exactly like me?” That… I didn’t know. At first, I’d assumed some sprite had taken his form. But thinking back, very few creatures outside of our vale had ever seen my son’s true face. What kind of being possessed magic so powerful it could fool even me? I was baffled. But our month together had shown me that this boy meant no harm. So, I simply cleared my throat. “Young one, is there some reason you’ve taken on my son’s appearance to follow me?” The “fake” Ash, who I now called “young one,” was still reeling from the shock of seeing his double. Hearing my question, he looked at me blankly. “I didn’t change my appearance. And that day… you were the one who called out to me first.” “…” I felt a dagger-like glare from my side. I gently pushed Ash’s face away, feeling a little embarrassed. 3 He was right. The day I left the vale, I’d just arrived in the mortal realm when I saw a child standing in front of a meat pie stall. He was the spitting image of Ash. My heart leaped into my throat. I rushed over and pulled him away. “You little rascal! Didn’t you promise Mother you’d stay in the vale? Why did you sneak out and follow me?” I was in the middle of a tirade, completely missing the look of confusion in his eyes. It was only after I’d finished scolding him that I heard his stomach rumble. “Hungry? Wait here.” I went back to the pie stall, bought two steaming pies, and pressed them into his hands. “Remember, don’t wander off,” I chattered on, taking his hand. “And keep your aura veiled. There are monsters here that snatch children.” The problem was, after he finished the pies, he never told me I had the wrong person. And he’d spent the entire month enjoying free food and lodging. At that thought, my sense of indignation returned. He, in turn, seemed to know he was in the wrong. He fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, his head bowed. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” “Is being sorry enough? You even claimed the wrong mother! This is my mother. Where’s your own?!” Ash demanded, hands on his hips as he glared at the other boy. The boy’s voice was a whisper. “I don’t have a mother.” “…” Ash, who had been so full of righteous fury just a moment ago, faltered. His hands dropped to his sides. He shot me a look that screamed, Mother, I messed up, what do I do now? So, he was a poor, lost child. That explained things. I sighed, forgetting for a moment to question why this boy was a perfect copy of Ash. I chalked it up to the world’s vastness—if nature could create similar landscapes, why not similar faces? “If you’re not Ash, what’s your name?” He looked up, his eyes shining. “Noel. My name is Noel!” Noel only told me his name. When I asked where he came from, he fell silent. I guessed he’d run away from home after a fight with his family. But what kind of parents wouldn’t be frantically searching for their child after a whole month? With a heavy heart, I realized I had no choice but to take Noel in for the time being, while I made inquiries about a missing child. 4 A few days passed. In that short time, Noel and Ash had forged a deep friendship. Ash had always been a mischievous child, but I knew he was lonely. Otherwise, he wouldn’t spend his days tormenting the vale’s inhabitants. With Noel by his side, Ash now had a partner in crime. One day, the Whisperwings returned from their journey beyond the vale. I asked them, “Well? Did you hear anything about a missing child?” “No, but…” one of the birds hesitated. “But what?” “But there is news from the Celestial Realm. One of the Archon’s young princes has gone missing. They’re sending out search parties.” It had been so long since I’d heard any news from that place. A nervous twitch started in my brow. “Which Archon?” “Archon Caelus of Aethelgard.” “…” Damn it. I should have known. In all the realms, the only one who could look identical to Ash—apart from some cosmic coincidence—was the other dragon egg I’d left behind. 5 I thought I would never see him again. To think… I’d stumbled upon him by chance, my other child in this world. “Mother!” My thoughts were interrupted as Ash came running over, holding Noel’s hand. I saw his grubby face and frowned in mild disgust. “Have you been rolling in the mud again?” Despite my grumbling, I pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face clean. As I did, another pair of bright, expectant eyes fixed on me. I looked down and saw it was Noel. “Mother, can you clean Noel’s face too?” Ash piped up. I would have done it even if he hadn’t asked. I beckoned Noel closer. As I wiped his face, I took the opportunity to study him properly. He and Ash weren’t exactly the same. Ash’s eyes and brow were the image of Caelus, but Noel’s were more like mine. That explained it. When Ash had first hatched, I’d been a little miffed. Why did the child I bore have to look so much like that heartless man? It turned out the one who looked like me was here all along. Still… I wondered how Caelus had raised him. He himself was as cold as an iceberg, and now he’d raised Noel to be so serious and mature for his age. I felt a surge of resentment. But then Noel spoke. “Thank you, Aunt Elara. I wish my mother were still here.” A wave of guilt washed over me. But before I could share in his sorrow, Ash clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be sad. You don’t have a mother, but I don’t have a father. It’s perfect! From now on, we’re brothers.” “Okay!” Noel nodded emphatically. “…” I watched, speechless, as the two of them forged their own little pact. If I didn’t intervene, they might just start a blood-brother ceremony right in front of me. “Alright, that’s enough.” I quickly pulled Ash away. “Stop your nonsense, you little rascal. I have something to say.” Two pairs of identical, shining eyes stared at me. Looking at their similar faces, a wave of tenderness washed over me. But the Whisperwings’ message forced me to push down my maternal feelings and adopt a serious tone. “Noel, I’ve found your family.” Noel’s small face froze. He was likely wondering how I’d discovered his identity so quickly, but after living with me, he must have had some inkling of my power. Ash’s eyes widened. “What? Does that mean Noel has to leave?” “Yes.” “I don’t want him to! Mother, I can’t bear to part with Noel! I want to stay with him!” Before I could say more, Ash had grabbed Noel’s hand. The two of them stared at me with tear-filled eyes, looking utterly pitiful. My heart ached, but I had to face reality. If Caelus discovered I was hiding here with Ash, I might not get to keep either of them. “Ash, Noel’s family is looking for him. Imagine how worried they must be.” I spoke gently. Ash wasn’t unreasonable. But for a child who had finally found a true friend, the thought of sudden separation was overwhelming. My resolve softened. I gave them time to say their goodbyes. When we reached the edge of the vale, Ash was still reluctant. Noel, though slightly more composed, also had red-rimmed eyes. Ash said, “Will you come back and play with me again?” “Of course. I’ll come whenever I can.” The two children bid each other a tearful farewell. 6 Once we left Azurewood Vale, I led Noel towards Aethelgard. “Noel.” “Hm?” The little boy, still lost in his sorrow, looked up at me. Seeing his face, so much like Ash’s, my heart filled with a thousand emotions. I knew when I left all those years ago that I was being unfair to one of my children. But it was the only way I could think of to secure our safety. “When you get back to Aethelgard, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me or Ash, okay?” “Why?” “We’re just simple spirits from the vale. If the great Archon Caelus found out about us, it might cause… trouble.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Noel had also snuck out on his own. Caelus would surely question him upon his return. I couldn’t risk him discovering my existence, or Ash’s. I was just trying to avoid unnecessary complications. Noel understood. He nodded silently. Then, remembering his promise to Ash, he looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. “Does that mean I can’t go play with Ash either?” It was as if my refusal would cause tears to spill from his eyes at any moment. I found I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, It’s for the best. 7 During my silence, we arrived at the borders of Aethelgard. I gazed at the celestial palace, wreathed in shimmering clouds and filled with the music of larks. So little has changed, I thought to myself. “Alright, this is as far as I can take you.” Noel hid the disappointment in his eyes. We had just landed and were about to say goodbye when a deep, cold voice echoed from behind us. “Noel!” “Father?” Surprise flickered across Noel’s face. He stood frozen, clearly not expecting to be caught by Caelus right at the gate. He wasn’t the only one. From what I remembered, Caelus was always either cultivating his power or in seclusion. He rarely set foot outside his palace, earning him the title of the “most reclusive Archon” in the Celestial Realm. He hadn’t changed much, though. His presence was still formidable, his aura one of cold, majestic authority. And yet, he possessed a face of serene, almost otherworldly beauty that could tempt anyone to covet him, while simultaneously intimidating them from ever acting on it. I, in my foolishness, had been the first to dare pluck that high-mountain flower. The consequences, of course, were well known. 8 Noel stared blankly as Caelus approached. The Archon’s gaze fell upon his son. “Where have you been?” The question was soft, yet it carried a heavy, oppressive weight. Caelus explained that Noel was supposed to be in a lesson with the Arch-Sage. When the time came and he was nowhere to be found, Caelus sent someone to inquire, only to learn the prince was missing. A missing prince was no small matter. They had searched high and low, never imagining he would be so bold as to sneak into the mortal realm on his own. “You’ve grown bold, haven’t you? Who taught you to behave this way?” Noel hung his head, muttering incoherently. Seeing him scolded so harshly, a pang of sympathy shot through me. Was Caelus always this strict with Noel? It didn’t seem right. He was always fair and measured. Could it be… because Noel looked like me? Was he taking out the anger he felt towards me on our son? That bastard. I should have never left him with a single egg! As I fumed, a gentle, melodic female voice drifted towards us. “His Highness has returned.” Caelus’s voice had done nothing to me, but hearing Fiora’s, my eyes narrowed instantly. Three hundred years, and her status seemed to have risen considerably. The number of acolytes behind her had doubled from four to eight. She carried herself with the authority of Aethelgard’s steward. Fiora glided forward gracefully. She had always been perceptive, and she immediately sensed the tension between father and son. She bent down and spoke softly to Noel. “Your Highness, you worried the Archon greatly by sneaking out. He even skipped the Council of Sages today just to find you.” At this, Noel looked up at Caelus. “I’m sorry, Father. It was my fault.” Caelus let out a slow breath. “Your punishment is five hours of sword practice.” “…Yes, Father.” Noel was led away by an acolyte. Fiora turned back to Caelus, her voice soft once more. “My Lord, now that His Highness has returned, you need not worry.” Caelus remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line, but I could see the tension in his face had eased. Since my task was done, it was time for me to leave. I tried to slip away unnoticed, but as I turned, a sharp, cold gaze fell upon me. “Wait.” I froze. 9 I had assumed his attention was entirely on Noel. I was wrong. My feet felt nailed to the ground. “Who are you?” Caelus’s voice was deep and commanding. Fiora’s gaze followed his. She seemed to notice me for the first time, her eyes filling with scrutiny. Fortunately, I had veiled my aura and true form before arriving. My cultivation over the past few centuries, while no match for these celestial beings, was enough to prevent me from being exposed immediately. I kept my head bowed and spoke in a rough, low voice. “I am but a humble, nameless spirit-herb from the lower realms, Your Grace.” Fiora questioned, “Was it you who brought the young prince back?” “Yes.” She stared at me with suspicion. She was naturally sharp, but I had prepared for this, rehearsing the story of how I had found Noel. Finding no flaws in my tale, Fiora’s expression softened into one of faint arrogance. “In that case, we thank you. Do you know that the child you found is the son of Archon Caelus?” She had the same condescending air as always. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, keeping a humble smile on my face. “I am overwhelmed, my lady.” “Mm. You may go.” That was what I was waiting for. I was about to retreat when the one who had remained silent all this time suddenly spoke. “You said you were from which mountain?” I couldn’t possibly give him the real name, so I invented one on the spot. After I answered, he said nothing more. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. The intense gaze fixed on me did not waver. Fiora noticed it too. “My Lord, is something amiss?” “…No.” Caelus finally retracted his gaze. Perhaps it was my imagination, but as he lowered his eyes, I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment. “Thank you for your help today,” Caelus said coolly. “I owe you a favor. Should you ever need my assistance, you may come and find me.” The words sounded familiar. I remembered him saying something similar before. Back then, I didn’t realize it was just a polite formality and had foolishly taken him at his word. Looking back, I was truly naive. “You are too kind, My Lord,” I said, feigning awe. Caelus said nothing more and turned to leave. Fiora followed, but not before casting one last, lingering glance in my direction. 10 Back in Azurewood Vale, I went to check on Ash. I had expected him to be as miserable as Noel, but I found him humming a tune while plucking feathers from a Whisperwing’s wing. “Ash?” “Mother, you’re back! This is for you.” I looked at the shuttlecock he’d made from the feathers, surprised. “You’re not sad anymore?” “Nah, it’s no big deal. If we’re fated to meet, we’ll meet again.” “…” So philosophical? I was surprised by his change of heart. But then I remembered he’d spent all these years hidden away with me. To finally find a friend he clicked with, only to be separated so soon… he must have been heartbroken. He was probably just hiding it so I wouldn’t feel guilty. The thought made me feel guilty anyway. I stroked his head. “Ash, my darling, I’m sorry. How about I take you to the mortal realm to play next time?” Ash nodded, looking exceptionally well-behaved. My heart swelled with relief, and I went about my business. But I had clearly underestimated my son. Given his talent for causing chaos, how could he possibly sit still for long? Sure enough, a few days later, I emerged from my den to find him gone. “Ash? Ash!” I searched the entire vale but couldn’t find him. Just as I was starting to panic, I saw words he had magically etched onto a leaf. “Mother, I’ve gone to play with Noel. Don’t worry.” I… Wha—?! That little rascal. So this was his plan all along. 11 I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A wave of worry washed over me. Ash’s magic wasn’t as refined as mine. What if he ran into someone from the Celestial Realm? The thought spurred me into action. I couldn’t worry about arousing suspicion by returning to Aethelgard so soon. Perhaps it was luck, but as soon as I reached Aethelgard’s borders, I ran into Noel. Except, at first, I got it wrong. “Ash!” “Aunt Elara?” The moment he said my name, I knew. This wasn’t Ash. It was Noel. Noel’s face lit up when he saw me. “Aunt Elara, what are you doing here? Did you come to see me?” I hated to disappoint him. “Ash said he was coming to find you. Have you seen him?” Noel looked confused. He shook his head, saying he hadn’t seen Ash. “I was with my father at the Council of Sages. He had other matters to attend to, so he sent me back first.” I see. My worry must have been written all over my face, because Noel took my hand and said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Aunt Elara. I’m sure Ash is fine. I’ll help you look for him.” A warmth spread through my chest. I was about to say something when an attendant approached. “Your Highness, why are you here? Didn’t the Archon just ask you to go to the study?” “When did Father ask me to go to the study?” “Just now, Your Highness. I saw the Archon with you myself.” “…” Noel’s confused chatter stopped abruptly. He blinked his wide, round eyes and looked at me. I understood his meaning instantly. He hadn’t seen Caelus since he returned. So the one Caelus had summoned to the study… could it be Ash?

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It was the fourth year of my marriage to my arch-nemesis when he got into a car accident. He lost his memory, his mind resetting to the time before we were married. When his eyes landed on my wedding ring, his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Who had the misfortune of marrying you?” 1 I glanced at the gauze wrapped around his head and thought, Pal, if I told you that someone was you, I was genuinely worried you’d have an aneurysm on the spot. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t you.” “When did you get married?” “Four years ago.” “And what did I do?” A sly smile spread across my face. “You gave me a huge wedding gift. A very fat check.” His gaze dropped, a flicker of something like melancholy crossing his handsome features. “That’s impossible.” Even with amnesia, he was still impossible to fool. Given our history, he would never have given me a generous gift. He would have been more likely to spike the punch at the reception, just to turn my wedding into the biggest joke of the century. Watching him stand there, lost in thought, my hand moved faster than my brain. I reached out and pinched his cheek. “Come on, let’s go home.” “Home?” His eyes suddenly lit up, as if he’d just been handed a sliver of hope. I quickly fabricated a story. “Right. The Thorne family business went bankrupt, you know? You’re my servant now.” Bart Thorne, who had always seemed unbreakable, finally shattered into a million pieces. I committed to the role completely, calling ahead to brief the household staff. I even cleared it with his parents, explaining that we’d keep up the pretense for a while to let him recover without the stress of worrying about the company. So, as we sat in the car, he clung to one last shred of hope. He called his parents to confirm. The voice on the other end was grim. “Son, it’s true. We’ve lost everything.” He lowered the phone, his eyes rimmed with red. The golden boy, the prince of the city, was now a penniless nobody. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice low. “So, what exactly do I do at your house?” “Oh, all sorts of things. Laundry, cooking, serving tea… and washing my feet.” He turned his head to stare out the window, his sharp, handsome profile now etched with a profound sense of loss, giving him a kind of broken beauty. Anyone would have looked at him and thought, Oh, that poor, handsome devil. Inside, I was about to burst with glee, but I managed to keep a straight face. You have to understand, the usual Bart Thorne was the imperious, untouchable ice king. His life had been a gilded path, a destiny written in the stars. He moved through the world like he owned it. I once joked that the only time I’d ever see Bart Thorne get misty-eyed for me would be at my funeral. The comment got back to him, of course. He’d just smirked and said, “Don’t flatter yourself. The only thing I’d bring to your funeral is fireworks.” Seeing him this vulnerable now? It was absolutely priceless. I spent the entire ride home fighting back a triumphant grin. 2 When we got home, I went straight to my study to deal with a pile of paperwork. Later, when I returned to my bedroom, I found Bart standing there, a basin of water for washing my feet placed neatly on the floor. He was frozen, staring at something in his hands. I followed his gaze and my stomach dropped. It was his pajama shirt. For all his arrogance, he was surprisingly sentimental about some things. He’d worn the same pajamas since college, even after four years of marriage. He turned to me, his eyes clouded with confusion. “You’re married. So why are my things in your room?” I sauntered over, a wicked smile playing on my lips. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close. His ears turned a bright, tell-tale red, and he quickly averted his eyes. “Wh-what are you doing?” My fingertips traced lazy circles on his firm chest. “My husband… he’s been abroad for a long time. You know how it is. A girl gets lonely. I have certain… needs that require attention.” His eyes widened in shock. “So… I’m your affair? Your lover on the side?” “Or is ‘plaything’ a more accurate term?” I mused. I opened my mouth to continue, but stopped. He had lowered his head, his eyes shadowed with a deep, weary sadness. His voice was a choked whisper. “A plaything… Fine.” For a moment, a pang of guilt hit me. He looked so lost, so utterly pitiful. Had I gone too far? Bart Thorne was a man defined by his pride. Waking up to find himself a bankrupt servant and now a clandestine lover… was it too much of a blow? But before I could second-guess myself, I was yanked into a fierce embrace. His mouth crashed down on mine, a brutal, all-consuming kiss that left no room for negotiation. It was a kiss of desperation, a reckless, all-or-nothing assault. 3 Even with his memory gone, his skills in this department hadn’t diminished one bit. He’d been in the hospital for two weeks, which meant I’d been on a dry spell for just as long. The moment his lips touched mine, it was like lightning striking dry tinder. In a dizzying haze, we ended up tangled in the sheets. He was more intense than usual, almost frantic, leaving me begging for him to slow down. In the pale moonlight, his eyes burned with a raw, possessive hunger. He nibbled on my earlobe, his voice a low, rough growl. “Like this?” “Yes… just… gentler…” “Me or your husband… who’s better?” “…” “Answer me.” “Ah…” He bit my neck, his movements urgent and demanding, pressing for an answer. My mind was a fog. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to answer; it was that I honestly didn’t know how. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I felt someone pull me into a tight embrace. “Why him,” a voice murmured against my hair, “and not me?” Turning and burrowing into his arms had become a deeply ingrained instinct. I nuzzled against his chin and whispered, “Husband…” The body holding me went rigid. The next morning, I woke up and instinctively reached for the person beside me, only to find the space cold and empty. My eyes flew open, and I shot out of bed. My heart only settled when I saw him downstairs at the dining table, bustling about. It’s terrifying how quickly you can get used to someone. When I sat down, Bart and the rest of the staff stood to the side, waiting. I reached out and tugged on his arm. “Come on, eat with me. Aren’t you hungry after last night?” Teasing him had become second nature. He sat down, looking a bit awkward. Halfway through his meal, he asked, his voice laced with a pained reluctance, “Your husband. Is it… Leo Vance?” I almost spat out my milk. I managed to swallow, forcing myself to remain calm. But seeing the utter desolation on his face, it was clear that the name Leo Vance had left a deep and painful scar on his memory. 4 Leo, you could say, was my first love. Back in college, he was a senior assigned to help with freshman orientation. He was the complete opposite of Bart. From the time we were kids, Bart was the golden boy our parents always compared me to. We became mortal enemies after a massive fight over who got to be the ’emperor’ while playing make-believe. Somehow, our lives followed the same trajectory, and we were constantly in each other’s orbits, competing over everything. I took up piano; his family bought a new Steinway. I started oil painting; he took up sketching. I said I was aiming for Auden University; he said he could get into Blackwood. In the end, he scored thirty points higher than me on the entrance exams, and we ended up at the same damn university. I called it a curse. He called it fate. On campus, we went our separate ways. I was quickly swallowed by the crowd. As I drifted aimlessly, I looked back and saw Bart. His height and striking looks made him stand out like a beacon. I opened my mouth to call his name, but a girl with flushed cheeks rushed up to him, nervously asking for his number. The sunlight caught in his eyes, turning them gold. The words died in my throat. I turned away, never finding out if he gave her his number or not. And that was when I met Leo. He smiled at me, a gentle, welcoming smile. “Hey, freshman. What’s your major?” He was nothing like Bart. He was a world away from the constant competition and antagonism. I confessed my feelings to him after a club outing to an amusement park. “Let’s have an archery contest, Leo,” I’d challenged him. The prize for winning was a little stuffed animal. “I bet you can’t win more than me.” As night fell, the park lights softened everyone’s edges. The wind rustled his hair as he smiled that easy smile of his. “Of course you’ll win in the end. Because all of my prizes… are going to you.” I froze. It had never occurred to me that someone would concede so easily, just because they knew I wanted to win. That night, I told him how I felt, and he said yes. Leo was a wonderful boyfriend. He’d bring me breakfast and a bouquet of my favorite flowers on every date. Even when he was swamped with his studies, spending countless hours in the lab, he always found time to surprise me. If it weren’t for what happened later, Bart and I might never have found our way to each other. Lost in thought, I glanced at his profile. My silence was its own answer. When no denial came, Bart let out a quiet, defeated, “I see.” I was so used to his arrogant, swaggering confidence. Seeing him like this, looking like a kicked puppy, softened my heart. “You know, actually, you—” “I know,” he cut me off, his gaze fixed on the ceiling with a tragic, ninety-degree tilt of his head. “I’m just the other man. I have no right to ask for more.”

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I’m five years older than Liam. So, when he turned twenty-eight, I was already thirty-three. He was the one who once swore to me that age would never be a barrier between us. But later, he told his best friend, “I don’t know why, but once Clara hit thirty, she just started to seem… a little unclean to me.” After that, he found a lover—a girl who looked a little like me. He gave me his heart, and he gave her his body. He thought he had crafted the perfect, compartmentalized life. Until I handed him the divorce papers. I smiled as I told him, “You know, there’s one huge advantage to loving and marrying an older woman, darling. We know how to play the game, and we know how to take a loss.” 1 Sometimes, a woman’s intuition is just that sharp. While Liam was in the shower, his phone buzzed. A local number, no caller ID. I answered it. I said “Hello?” twice, then asked, “Who is this?” The line was silent. Then, they hung up. In those few seconds of dead air, an unspoken understanding passed between us. The person on the other end knew exactly who I was. And I knew, with a sinking certainty, that something was deeply wrong. I unlocked Liam’s phone. I used the number to find the person on his social media. It was a girl. Her avatar was a soft, cutesy anime character, her screen name was “Peaches.” There was no contact name saved for her, and he had her notifications silenced. Their chat history was pristine. Only a single unread message remained: 【I miss you.】 Just those three words, and my heart seized in my chest. My mind went cold with the single, stark realization: Liam was cheating on me. The phone felt weightless in my suddenly nerveless grip. I clicked on the girl’s profile. Her cover photo was likely a selfie—hair in a messy bun, lips in a playful pout. It screamed youth, and I had to admit, she was pretty. I didn’t linger on it. Instead, I took out my own phone and snapped a picture of her profile. Her feed was full of posts. I scrolled quickly, my thumb a blur, until one post made me freeze. She’d written: 【I only want 199 from him, not a penny more!】 Beneath the text was a screenshot of her conversation with Liam. She had him saved under the contact name: My Princess’s Provider. She’d asked him: 【Where’s the 199 you promised me?】 Liam had sent her twenty thousand dollars. She hadn’t accepted it. She’d sent it right back. 【I only want 199!】 Liam replied with a string of ellipses but complied, sending her the exact amount. She followed up with: 【Do you know what 199 means? It’s a pun. It means I want to be with you for a long, long time! Forever and ever!】 My face remained a mask of calm as I took another picture. I backed out of her profile and went straight to his transaction history, filtering for all their transfers. One after another, they scrolled down the screen, a river of payments with no end in sight. The most consistent were the large deposits: fifty thousand dollars at the beginning of each of the last three months. Beyond that, the smaller amounts were countless—a thousand here, two hundred there. Sprinkled among them were numbers thick with meaning: 199, 520 for I love you, 1314 for forever. I photographed every single transaction, my movements methodical and precise. Throughout the entire process, I was eerily calm. I even remembered to mark their chat as unread before I closed the app. 2 “What’s up? Lost in thought?” Liam emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his wet hair, his voice laced with casual curiosity. I snapped back to reality. I looked up at him. He was wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a chiseled eight-pack. Liam had always kept himself in impeccable shape. I remembered a friend once envying me. “Just look at him,” she’d said. “As long as he’s not a murderer, what’s there not to forgive? Especially when he’s so devoted to you!” I had believed it, too. I had believed Liam was devoted to me. But now, it seemed that was just a story I’d been telling myself. “Oh, someone called for you just now,” I said, my voice even. “Didn’t say a word and then hung up. You might want to check it.” “Probably a spam call. Don’t worry about it.” He took the phone from me, his expression unruffled. He tossed the damp towel into the laundry hamper and picked up his pack of cigarettes from the table. “I’m gonna have a smoke on the balcony.” He always smoked on the balcony because he knew I hated the smell. Only now did I realize it wasn’t just about the smoke. A few minutes later, Liam came back inside, pulling on a fresh shirt. “Honey, I have to run out,” he said, all business. “Something urgent came up. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” “What’s wrong?” “The system at the Harrison Group is acting up. I don’t know what their deal is. It was working perfectly during the tests, but now they’re saying it’s all glitches and crashes. I’ve gotta head over there. If it’s late, I’ll just crash at a hotel nearby.” “Is Ethan going with you?” “Yep!” It sounded so convincing. Facts, details, even a witness. I simply nodded. “Drive safe.” 3 Liam left in a hurry. I stood there for a long time, my gaze fixed on the wedding photo hanging on our wall. I just couldn’t understand. Why? Why would Liam cheat? And that girl… Who was she? Her face, the money Liam sent her, those posts on her feed… The images flashed through my mind, a chaotic slideshow of betrayal. Suddenly, a memory sparked. I grabbed my phone, my hands trembling. That girl. I’d seen her before. 4 It was about six months ago. Liam had been taken to the local precinct after a street fight. I went to bail him out. He wasn’t badly hurt, just a scrape on his cheekbone, but his mood was black. His eyes were feral, his whole body radiating a dangerous energy I hadn’t seen since he was a teenager. He had beaten the other guy to a pulp; it was clear he’d intended to do serious damage. The man was screaming about pressing charges, demanding an apology and compensation. Liam just sneered. If I hadn’t been holding him back, he would have gone for him again. After everything was sorted, I was leading him out of the station when a young woman in a work uniform rushed up to us. She gushed at Liam, her words tumbling out in a grateful torrent. “Sir, if it weren’t for you today, I don’t know what would have happened. Thank you, really, thank you so much!” I blinked, looking from her to Liam. He was the picture of impatience. “You should find a new line of work,” he said, his voice rough. A shadow crossed the girl’s face. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other choice…” Liam’s expression soured even more, and he cut her off harshly. “Not my problem. Do whatever you want.” My friend Chloe had come with me that day. As Liam shook the girl off and strode away, Chloe grabbed my arm. “Don’t you think she looks a bit like you?” she’d whispered. “Like, a younger version of you?” I’d laughed it off, thinking she was imagining things. But I couldn’t help turning back to look at the girl one last time. Now, the memory of her face merged perfectly with the photo on my phone. It was her. 5 Liam didn’t come home that night. He returned the next evening, carrying a takeout container. “It’s from that spicy noodle spot you love,” he said, a placating smile on his face. “The line was insane. You go ahead and eat, I’m gonna hop in the shower.” “Okay.” As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, I grabbed my spare key, took the bag of food, and went straight down to the underground garage. The car had been washed; it was spotless. The passenger seat was adjusted to my preferred position. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But I wasn’t looking for the obvious. I was there for the dashcam. I went through all the footage from yesterday until today. Liam had driven to the university campus on the south side of town. He’d called the girl. Just two words, sharp and commanding: “Come down.” She’d bounced into the passenger seat, a picture of youthful energy. Then came the sounds. Kissing. Heavy breathing. “Did you touch that old hag?” the girl’s voice, sharp and possessive. “Shut up,” Liam’s voice, low and strained. “Did you or didn’t you?” His reply was a husky growl, thick with desire. “What do you think?” She giggled, triumphant. “You’re all mine.” “Just don’t beg me to stop later.” The car sped up, the velocity a clear indicator of the driver’s urgency. He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex near the campus and parked. The footage went dark. The next clip started at ten the following morning. Only Liam was in the car. The video played on in silence. I sat frozen in the driver’s seat, my entire body rigid, muscles coiled so tight they ached. I raised a hand to turn it off, but just then, the car’s Bluetooth rang. It was Ethan, Liam’s best friend. “Dude, where are you? You’re not here yet.” “On my way.” “Tsk, this is late, even for you. Not your style. Don’t tell me you were with your little Peaches again.” Liam grunted an affirmative. “Mm.” Ethan sounded exasperated. “Seriously? You’re seeing her way too often. Are you actually falling for her?” Liam let out a short, hollow laugh. “What’s real? What’s fake?” “Don’t play dumb with me. I thought this was just a fling. How did it turn into a long-term thing? Weren’t you head-over-heels in love with Clara? What happened?” The question seemed to stump Liam. A long pause hung in the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice flat. “Clara’s thirty-three.” “And?” “I don’t know why, but once she hit thirty… she just started to seem… unclean to me.” 6 How long had it been since Liam had touched me? I lit a cigarette, the unfamiliar gesture feeling both foreign and deeply necessary, and tried to trace it back. It started about six months ago. Work had become all-consuming. I was pushing for a promotion, pulling late nights, running on fumes and caffeine. Most days, I’d stumble home with just enough energy to fall into bed. Liam would wrap his arms around me, try to kiss me. I’d push him away. “Don’t, I’m exhausted. Next time, okay?” The first time, he was understanding, even sympathetic. The second time, he was clearly annoyed but held his tongue. The third time, he exploded, slamming the door on his way out. I found him at a bar later that night. I knew I’d been unfair, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and met his fierce, punishing kiss with one of my own. It wasn’t good. It was rough, and it hurt. He must have sensed it too, because he finished quickly. That night, he slept with his back to me, the first time he’d ever done that. I felt helpless, unsure how to fix it, how to soothe his bruised ego. But before I could, he seemed to fix himself. He apologized, saying it was his fault, that he’d been too aggressive. “Don’t overthink it,” he’d said. “Don’t let it get to you. We’ll go on a trip as soon as you’re not so busy.” I thought the issue was resolved. He was still good to me. He still treated me well. Even if he no longer held me when we slept, even if we hadn’t made love in half a year. He was good to me. But now he was saying he found me… unclean. That single word. From the moment I heard it, it had sunk its icy claws into me. Every time I thought of it, a chill spread through my entire body. The hand holding the cigarette trembled violently. Ash fell onto my skin, a hot, sharp sting. But it was nothing compared to the wound that word had carved into me. 7 Liam called, his voice a familiar balm over the phone. He asked where I was, why I hadn’t come back upstairs yet. I told him I was just taking out the trash and would be up in a minute. He grunted an “Okay.” “I’m heading to bed, then.” When I finally went back up, Liam was fast asleep, turned on his side, hugging the edge of the bed and leaving a vast, empty space for me. I didn’t get in. I just sat on the edge of the mattress. I stared at his back all night. I met him the year he turned eighteen, a new student in a new city. He was a rebellious kid who’d defied his parents to enroll here, running away from home with nothing but a backpack. His older brother, Mark, had been worried about him and asked me to pick him up from the station. “He has no money, and the dorms aren’t open yet. Can he crash with you for a bit? The kid’s stubborn as a mule. If he says or does anything to tick you off, just give him a good smack.” I thought Mark was out of his mind. A teenage boy? Living with me? Not a chance. I was already planning to rent a separate apartment for him. But when I saw him, he looked so small, so lost. He was crouched under a large tree at the station, hugging his backpack like an abandoned puppy. He came home with me, quiet and obedient. Before I could even bring up the topic of him finding his own place, he was already tugging on my sleeve, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please, I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll cook for you, I’ll clean the house. Just please don’t make me leave.” I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking he was full of it. But he wasn’t. He really did cook for me every day. He even rode his little electric scooter to my office to pick me up after work. His presence filled my quiet, sterile apartment with life. My daily commute suddenly felt less like a chore. We lived under the same roof for a month. In the end, it was me who bought him his school supplies and took him to campus. I thought it was just a fleeting chapter in my life. But later, he confessed he had chosen this university just for me. He told me he’d seen me once when he was sixteen, and from that moment on, I had become the sole focus of all his hopes and dreams. This man, when he was still just a boy, had laid his whole, earnest heart at my feet. And I had fallen completely. But now, he was taking it all back. And I had to drag myself out of the wreckage, fast.

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The day I went into labor, the pain was unbearable, but I stopped the handmaiden from fetching my mother. “Don’t call her… Get the physician…” In my past life, my husband was at war, and my mother stayed with me during the difficult birth—missing my sister’s nameday. In her rage, my sister ran away, only to be captured, violated, and murdered. My mother retrieved her body with eerie calm, praising my newborn daughter instead. But at my daughter’s first-year feast, she poisoned us all. As I held my dying family, she hissed: “Every woman suffers childbirth. Are you special? If not for you, my Camila would be alive! You all deserve to die!” Now, reborn, I kept my mother away. This time, she’d attend my sister’s celebration. Just as relief flickered, agony tore through me—the midwife was forcing the half-born child back inside. … Wave after wave of agony crashed over me, and I couldn’t stifle my screams. The midwife wrenched my legs apart, her voice a harsh bark. “Push! Push! Haven’t you eaten? Push, I said!” But the baby wouldn’t budge. My handmaiden, Clara, knelt by the bed, gripping my hand, her voice choked with tears. “My lady… just hold on a little longer. I’ll send for your mother right now…” She started to run, but the midwife snatched her back, her forehead cracking against the bedframe. “Today is Lady Camila’s nameday! The mistress is with her. No one is to disturb them!” The midwife turned her scowl on me. “Just one more good push, my lady, and the babe will be born. Every woman goes through this. It’s a small matter. Must you trouble the mistress over nothing? Can’t you be more considerate?” The blinding pain and the midwife’s venomous tone were a brutal confirmation: I had been reborn. It was exactly the same as before. I was dying in childbirth. My husband, Lord Alistair, was far away, quelling rebellions in the borderlands. Fearing I would be lonely in our great house, he had asked my mother to stay with me. In my first life, Clara had wept hysterically, wanting to fetch my mother, only to be blocked by this very midwife, who insisted such a trivial thing as childbirth shouldn’t interrupt my mother’s time with my sister. Back then, I had pulled rank, invoking my title as the Marchioness, and forced Clara to bring my mother. But this time, I didn’t want my mother anywhere near me. Fighting through the pain, I pushed myself up. “Get… Physician Graham,” I gasped to Clara. Physician Graham was the man my husband had explicitly arranged to deliver our child before he left the capital. It was my mother who had insisted on using her own midwife, old Martha, claiming her experience was unmatched. It was a mistake I wouldn’t make twice. A flicker of panic crossed the midwife’s face. Before I could say more, she shoved me back down onto the bed, her hands pressing hard on my shoulders. She kicked Clara away as my loyal handmaiden tried to help me. “Physician Graham? What for? Every noble lady gives birth this way! What danger could there be? You’re just making a fuss!” the midwife spat. “Can’t even deliver a child, just causing trouble. What if word of this gets back to the Marquess? What if the Baron blames his wife and Lady Camila for this mess?” “Get back here! No one leaves this room today!” Clara crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach in pain. Suddenly, two burly guards stormed in from outside and pinned her down, stopping her struggles. Only then did I realize the courtyard was filled with grim-faced men-at-arms. They hadn’t been there in my first life. With Clara subdued, the guards formed a human wall at the door. The midwife pried my legs apart again and gave the baby a violent tug. Blood instantly soaked the bedsheets. A tearing sensation, worse than anything I had ever imagined, consumed me. I screamed, but I was too weak to fight back. The midwife washed the blood from her hands with a look of revulsion. “Don’t waste your energy,” she snarled. “The mistress gave specific orders today. No matter what happens to you, she is not to be disturbed during Lady Camila’s celebration.” Her words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, chilling me to the bone. So, my mother had been reborn, too. This time, she knew I would be on the brink of death, yet she had chosen to abandon me without a second thought. In my first life, my mother had been with me. The midwife, though she disliked me, hadn’t dared to be so reckless. I had given birth to a healthy daughter, and we were both safe. But Camila, furious that our mother had missed her nameday, ran away and met her horrific end. My mother, consumed by guilt, buried Camila with all the honors befitting a Baron’s daughter. After the birth, she locked herself in Camila’s room for three days, refusing all food and drink. When she emerged, her face was a calm, placid mask. She would hold my daughter and tell everyone what a beauty she was, how much she looked like me. She even embroidered a pair of tiny shoes with protective sigils, saying they would keep my daughter safe and healthy. Then came the first-year ceremony. She poisoned the feast. The entire hall of guests perished. With my last breath, I tried to call for a physician for my daughter, but my mother snatched the child from my arms and smashed her against the stone floor. My husband, Alistair, tried to shield me and was cut down by her frenzied knife strikes. The poison spread through my veins, the agony stealing my voice. All I could do was watch as my husband’s bloody body collapsed on top of me. She grabbed me by the hair, dragging me before Camila’s memorial portrait, and slammed my head against the floor again and again. “If it weren’t for you, how could my Camila have died?” she shrieked. “You already stole her husband! Why couldn’t you just leave her alone? You must have been jealous! You had her killed, didn’t you!” No… I didn’t… It was Camila who had refused the marriage, forcing me to take her place and wed Alistair, the formidable Marquess of the North, a man rumored to be a ruthless killer. The metallic tang of blood filled my throat. I couldn’t speak, only shake my head desperately, tears streaming down my face. From the day I was born, my mother had sent me to be raised on a remote country estate. I was only brought back three years ago, for one purpose: to marry the man my sister feared. My mother always said, “You’re the older sister. You must give way to Camila.” Anything Camila wanted, if I had it, I gave it to her without a fight. Just days before I went into labor, I had even written to my husband, asking him to bring Camila a gown in the latest fashion when he returned. I didn’t know she would be taken by bandits. I was just so scared. I was losing so much blood, the pain was unbearable, and I was terrified I would die. Terrified I would never see the man I loved again. But no matter how hard I shook my head, my mother refused to believe me. “Camila died because of you. Now, all of you will join her in hell!” The pain consumed my consciousness, and with it, the last shred of hope I had for her love. But this was a new life, and I would not die here. The blood kept flowing, my eyelids growing heavy. Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure flash past the window. I gathered all my strength and screamed. “Physician Graham—!” My voice was ragged, but he heard it. He stopped, turning to look. The midwife scrambled across the room and slammed the window shut with a loud bang. She rushed back to me, stuffing a wet cloth into my mouth, her voice a low, vicious hiss. “Shut up! I told you to shut up!” Then she called out to the person outside. “Physician Graham, it’s just the usual noises of childbirth. Pay it no mind.” The physician hesitated for a moment. “Very well,” he said. “But if her ladyship needs anything, do not hesitate to call me.” He started to walk away. Clara, still held by the guards, screamed. “Physician Gra—” Before she could finish, the midwife slapped her across the face, hard. “You shut up too! The both of you, nothing but bad omens, always troubling the mistress!” A hand was clamped over Clara’s mouth, silencing her. Through the window, I watched Physician Graham’s figure recede into the distance. My heart sank with each step he took. Clara was dragged out of the room. I was left alone with Martha the midwife and the assistants she had brought with her. The bleeding worsened, but the pain began to dull, a terrifying numbness spreading through me. There was still no sign of the baby. My consciousness faded in and out. I was drowning in despair, unable to breathe. The midwife was ordering the assistants to change the bloody water, her curses unrelenting. “Such a nuisance! Who gives birth like you? I told you to push, are you deaf?” “Just get this baby out! I have to get back to serve Lady Camila at her celebration!” I couldn’t make a sound. Just as I thought I was going to die, a steady, authoritative voice came from outside. “What is the situation in there? Why are you all blocking the door?” My brother? A surge of hope filled me, but the midwife had gagged me and tied my wrists to the bedposts. Hearing my brother’s voice, the midwife glanced at the blood-soaked floor, her expression changing. “This late, and still no baby?” she muttered. “And all this blood… No, the young lord can’t see this. I’ll be ruined!” “That’s it! Push it back in! I have to push the baby back in!” She chanted under her breath, ordering an assistant to press on my stomach while she tried to force the baby’s head back into my womb. The pain was beyond words. I thrashed, slamming my elbows against the wooden headboard, praying my brother would hear and save me. The next moment, his cold, sharp voice cut through the air. “Are you going to move, or not?” “My sister is in labor! It’s been hours, and there’s been no word! Get out of my way! Whoever is in there, if you can’t handle this, get out and let Physician Graham in!” Since I had returned to my family’s home, my brother, Lord Tristan, was the only one who had ever shown me any kindness. The midwife suddenly stood up, hastily washing her bloody hands. She instructed the assistants holding me down, “Keep her still! Don’t let the young lord see anything! Get that baby back inside. I’ll handle him.” She left the room. The assistants she had tasked with her gruesome work knelt down, trembling, and continued their horrific efforts. Outside, I heard the midwife’s groveling voice. “My lord, it’s not that I won’t let the physician in. But he is a man. Where in the entire capital has a man ever delivered a noble lady’s child? What would become of her ladyship’s reputation?” “Childbirth is a swift affair. I understand you’re worried, my lord, but the baby will be here soon. I will ensure both mother and child are safe. You and the physician should go.” My brother’s voice was like ice. “I’ll give you one hour. If the child is not born in one hour, it will be your head.” A short while later, the door creaked open and then shut again. The midwife returned, a smug look on her face. She glanced down at me with disgust. An assistant looked at her worriedly. “Martha, what do we do? If the young lord finds out, he’ll have us all killed!” “What are you panicking for?” she snapped, kicking the girl. She turned back to me, her eyes glinting with malice, her voice a low whisper. “In that case, only the dead can keep secrets. Women die in childbirth all the time. As long as the baby is born, who cares if the mother lives or dies?” My heart plummeted into an abyss of terror. I couldn’t move my arms, so I kicked my feet against the bedframe with all my might. The midwife immediately pinned my legs down and gave the wavering assistant a sharp look. The girl was still hesitant. “But Martha… she’s the Marchioness…” “And you know she’s the Marchioness!” the midwife spat in her face. “If word of what happened today gets back to the Marquess, all of us will be executed, our families along with us! Even the Baron and his lady will be implicated!” The mention of Alistair’s ruthless reputation seemed to do the trick. The assistant’s face hardened with resolve. They converged on me. Some held my arms, while another pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth. I struggled wildly, trying to make any sound I could. My brother’s voice came from outside again. He was trying to force his way in, but the guards were blocking him. After a moment of confrontation, his voice rang out, cold and clear. “If I am not permitted to be present for my sister’s labor, then go and fetch my mother.” “What are you waiting for? Go and get her!” The midwife panicked. She let go of me and rushed outside, shouting, “No, my lord, you can’t! You can’t get the mistress!” “Today is Lady Camila’s nameday! The mistress said no one was to…” “Insolence!” My brother’s voice was a whip-crack, followed by the sharp sound of a slap. He must have struck the midwife. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? I call you Martha out of respect for your years of service to my mother, but you dare to put on airs with me?” Through a crack in the door, I saw the midwife kneeling on the ground, clutching her face, trembling. My brother ordered his attendant to fetch our mother. Physician Graham paced anxiously nearby, casting worried glances toward my room. No… don’t get her… I struggled, reaching out a hand, trying to stop him. I didn’t want my mother. I just wanted the physician. I just wanted to live. But my voice was too weak.

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My wife, the Colonel, believed our son needed to be a man. So, against my every objection, she had him deployed to a peacekeeping mission in the Middle East. “I was on the front lines when I was just a teenager,” she’d scoffed. “Look at him. Does he even look like a man to you?” Our son came back with the Medal of Honor. The price was his life. I went to find her, carrying the box with his ashes. But when I arrived, I saw her latest post online: a photo of her first love, Christopher, and his daughter, Cece. The caption read: [A living Medal of Honor recipient. A credit to our guidance.] In the photo, Cece was wearing the medal that belonged to my son. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just filed a report against my wife with the military court. 1 Our son’s remains fit into a small, flag-draped box. When Major General Thorne handed it to me, her expression was one of pure compassion. “I’m so sorry, Noah,” she said, her voice heavy. “By the time we got there, all that was left were… fragments.” The only other thing they recovered was his blood-soaked uniform. The fabric was shredded, a canvas of bullet holes and knife slashes. I opened the box just a crack before slamming it shut. The acrid smell of old blood assaulted my senses. I clutched the box and the uniform to my chest, fell to my knees, and wept. His last call echoed in my mind, a phantom playing on a loop. “Dad, it hurts… they cut a hole in my stomach… If I don’t talk, they’re going to cut my throat next. Dad… I’m scared. Their knife is rusty. It’ll take a few tries before I die… But I can’t talk. If I talk, my brothers will die… Dad, it’s okay if no one else remembers me, but you’ll remember me, right? Please? They’re coming! Dad! DAD! AHHH!” His final, agonizing scream was seared into my memory. The torture lasted ten minutes, but he never uttered a single word of intel. The only thing he kept repeating was, “Dad, save me!” I had scrambled for help, frantically calling my wife, Colonel Evelyn Vance. She never answered. Long after our son was dead, a text from her finally came through. [Christopher’s dealing with something. I don’t have time for your childish jealousy.] Major General Thorne helped me to my feet, her eyes full of apology. “I’m sorry I was late.” I shook my head. “No. This wasn’t your mission. I know you did everything you could.” I turned to leave, holding the box and the uniform, but a hand fell on my shoulder. Diana Thorne, my childhood friend, looked at me, her expression a mixture of emotions I couldn’t decipher. “Let me give you a ride back.” I shook my head again. “It’s okay, I can manage. Thank you for bringing Aaron home to me. I’m already so grateful.” I gave her a deep, formal bow and walked away. Her hand hung in the air for a moment before she let it fall. 2 On the way home, my phone buzzed with news alerts. [Major Cecelia Croft, embedded for months, single-handedly takes down terrorist stronghold!] [Peacekeeping Hero Promoted! A True Heroine for the Ages!] [She is the Nation’s Pride.] The military section of every news site was flooded with Cecelia “Cece” Croft’s “heroic deeds.” The comment sections were a frenzy. [OMG QUEEN SO BADASS!] [I heard those terrorists love to torture people, like turning them into paste. For Major Croft to survive that long alone is incredible!] [I heard she’s the daughter of the pop star Christopher Croft! And that Colonel Vance personally mentored her!] [Could Christopher be the Colonel’s secret husband??] [Definitely. Did you see the Colonel’s comment on his latest post? You don’t talk like that unless you’re family.] [Sobbing, what a power family!] The more I read, the tighter my fists clenched. The real hero was lying silently in a small box, his body too shattered to be pieced back together. And Cece Croft—who had spent her entire deployment in the Green Zone—was being hailed as the deep-cover operative? Stealing someone’s commendation wasn’t something Cece could pull off alone. Evelyn had to be behind it. My phone buzzed again. A call from Evelyn. “Delete it,” she snapped, without preamble. “Don’t make me say it twice.” I frowned. “What?” “Don’t play dumb, Noah! Look at what you’ve been reposting! If I weren’t suppressing it on my end, the media would have already run with the baseless rumors you’re spreading! What do you expect them to do then?” “Baseless?!” My hand trembled. “That was Aaron’s commendation! Cece spent her entire tour bullying him because he was a lower rank! The only thing she did on this mission was show up at the end for a photo op! Aaron did all the work! How dare she waltz in and take everything from him!” “Enough!” Evelyn’s voice was sharp. “I know you’re prone to jealousy, but military honors are a serious matter! Cece spent months in a foreign country. Do you have any idea how hard that is for a young woman? Christopher has been worried sick about her every single day. After all their hardship, you think you can just erase their sacrifice with a few words?” I laughed, and a tear rolled down my cheek. “Cece was here for a few months and you made her a Major with zero experience! Aaron was here for years, and you held him back so he couldn’t even make Sergeant! Who had it easy? Christopher is living a glamorous life back home while I’m stuck here in a war zone! Who had it hard?” “That’s enough!” Evelyn’s voice was laced with fury. “Not only are you slandering Cece, but now you’re running your mouth like this? Was this Aaron’s idea? Tell him to report to my office immediately!” My knuckles turned white where they gripped the box. “He’s not coming. He was killed in action.” Silence on the other end of the line. Then, a low, cold laugh. “Noah, to think you’d stoop this low. Now you’re even making up lies about our son’s death just to compete with Christopher? I don’t have the patience for your petty games. If I don’t see that brat by five o’clock, he can spend the rest of his life as a private.” She hung up. I clutched the bloody uniform, my tears soaking into the tattered fabric. 3 Back at the cold, empty villa, I began to pack our son’s things. When he first arrived, Evelyn hadn’t allowed him to bring much, claiming a soldier’s true test was to make something from nothing. So, he had only smuggled in a single photograph of the three of us. I tore Evelyn’s half from the photo, wrapped Aaron’s ashes and bloody uniform in the flag, and called for a bus to the airport. Evelyn would never offer me a convenience like a driver. Even when I first came here, she forbade me from using her private car, forcing me to stumble my way from the bus stop to this house. The dog she kept was tied up by the gate. I kept my distance. As expected, it began to bark furiously the moment I approached. I’d lived here for years, but it still only recognized Evelyn and Christopher. Some dogs can never be tamed. I took the long way around, only to see a black government sedan parked out front. I froze as I heard a familiar voice. “Evelyn, I’m not a child. You don’t have to guide me out of the car.” Then, Evelyn’s voice, softer than I’d ever heard it. “You’ve never been here before. It’s unfamiliar territory. I was worried.” Christopher Croft’s polished leather shoes stepped onto the pavement. Though he’d said it wasn’t necessary, his hand casually found its way to the small of Evelyn’s back, resting on her waist. Evelyn’s face flushed, but she didn’t pull away. The guard dog immediately started wagging its tail. Christopher was about to pet it when he saw me. He jumped back with a theatrical gasp. “Ah! You scared me to death!” Evelyn turned, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What are you doing, looking like that?” I’d cried for days. My chin was covered in rough stubble, my eyes were undoubtedly red and swollen with exhaustion. Evelyn didn’t ask what had happened to me. She just demanded, “Didn’t I tell you to have Aaron report to me by five? It’s already dark. Where did he run off to? Everyone has already been by to congratulate Cece, but he’s the only one hiding. His Uncle Christopher is here and he doesn’t even come to greet him. Who does he think he is? Don’t think I’ll favor him unconditionally just because he’s my son!” I finally snapped. “What have you ever favored him with?!” I had always been calm, even-tempered. Even when she sent our son here, I had never been this hysterical. Evelyn was stunned into silence. My eyes blazing, I grabbed her by the collar. “You always talk about favoring him, but when have you ever done it? He was bullied by Cece in the army, and you looked the other way! Cece got a scratch on her hand from roughhousing with her subordinates, and you had her flown back to the States for treatment! Our son was suppressed by her, and you did nothing! She had less experience than him, but you promoted her to Major straight away! Even I am stuck here, living in filth, while you support Christopher’s glamorous life back home! So tell me, Evelyn! What have you ever favored him with? Who is your real family?!” Faced with my tirade for the first time, Evelyn seemed to buckle, grabbing my hands. “What are you talking about? Christopher and I are just friends! Can you stop being so jealous?” “Who’s jealous of you?!” I slapped her across the face. Her head snapped to the side. She turned back slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief. I gritted my teeth. “Don’t act like I can’t live without you. Evelyn, I regret it. I should have divorced you years ago. Then our son wouldn’t have…” At the word “divorce,” Evelyn’s pupils contracted. “You…” But she was cut off by Christopher. “Noah, don’t you think you’re going too far?” 4 Christopher stepped in front of Evelyn, shielding her. “Evelyn and I have a good relationship, but we’ve always been open about it. You, on the other hand…” He looked me up and down, a sneer of contempt on his face. “Meeting with the Major General in secret… that seems a lot more suspicious, doesn’t it?” “What?” Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. Christopher pulled out his phone and showed her a photo. The moment Evelyn saw it, her breathing grew ragged, her fists clenching. It was the photo of Diana placing a hand on my shoulder. The angle was deceptively intimate. With my back to the camera, it looked like we were whispering to each other. Christopher let out a cold laugh. “If I remember correctly, Major General Thorne came to this war zone for you, didn’t she, Noah? You claim to be just friends, but you’ve been meeting with her quite often. And secretly accepting her gifts, too.” “Shut up!” I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I went to Diana because of our son—” “Does that give you an excuse to have secret meetings behind Evelyn’s back?” Christopher cut me off, grabbing my arm. “Ah, what’s this passport for? General Thorne is heading back to the States in a couple of days. You’re not planning to fly back with her to get married, are you? No wonder you want a divorce from Evelyn.” “Shut your mouth!” I roared, raising my hand to strike him. But before I could, a sharper, more vicious slap landed on my own face. 5 Evelyn stood in front of Christopher, her chest heaving. “No wonder you were acting so strangely today. You had your escape route planned all along, didn’t you?” She snatched the passport from my hand and kicked my suitcase. It burst open, sending the box and the blood-soaked uniform spilling onto the ground. Christopher wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What is this? Noah, since when did you take up collecting trash?” “You have no right to say that!” I lunged at him, but Evelyn kicked me squarely in the chest, sending me slamming against the wall. Her voice was ice. “You’re becoming more and more unhinged. Collecting perverted things like this. What, is it a gift from Diana? You’ll take anything she gives you, won’t you?” She grabbed the small box wrapped in the flag. “What kind of trash gets to be wrapped in the flag of our country?” she sneered. She ripped the flag off and tossed the box to one of her aides. “Take it. Feed it to the dog.” “Yes, Colonel!” “NO!!” I scrambled forward like a madman, but Evelyn blocked me. “You spend all your days accusing me of things, while you’re the one cheating on me?” “NO! Those are our son’s ashes! Make him stop! The dog listens to you! Make it stop!!”

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I was eight months pregnant when a stranger shoved me from a second-floor landing. I hit the ground in a spreading pool of my own blood. Frantic, my husband, Adrian, scooped me into his arms and raced to the hospital, summoning a team of top specialists to save me. Miraculously, they said, the baby was saved. But when I opened my eyes, both Adrian and my child were gone. I fought through the pain, dragging myself out of bed. I searched the halls, my leg, wrapped in a cast, screaming with every limping step. That’s when I heard them, their voices drifting from the cold, sterile doorway of the morgue. Adrian and the doctor. “Mr. Stone, the baby… he was still breathing. Why did you… smother him? He was your son!” “He was a mistake. He never should have been born. It’s better this way.” Adrian’s voice was ice. “Scarlett gave me a son yesterday. I promised her our child would be the sole heir to the Stone fortune. I won’t have another child competing with him.” So it was all a lie. The happy family, the perfect marriage—it was nothing but a delusion I’d built for myself. My life wasn’t a fairy tale; it was a cold, dark hell. Fine. If that’s how it was, I would leave. … The doctor’s voice was hesitant. “But you’re planning to pass Scarlett’s baby off as your own. What if your wife finds out?” “Newborns all look the same. She’ll never know. I’ll bring him to her in a moment. Get rid of the… body. And I need a dose of that new drug you mentioned, the one that causes permanent sterilization. I want you to give it to Elara.” The doctor was aghast. “Mr. Stone, you’ve already killed her child just to bring Scarlett’s into your home. Why must you do this to her, too? It’s too cruel!” A chill crept from the morgue, but Adrian’s words were colder still. “I made a promise to Scarlett. I promised our son would never suffer a moment of hardship, that he would never have to compete with siblings for my affection. Even though she’s married to another man, I will give her that peace of mind.” The doctor sounded desperate. “Sir, I have to warn you, that drug is experimental. It hasn’t even completed clinical trials. The side effects are severe. Can you truly do this to her?” Adrian paused, then sighed. “I have no choice. Elara will be waking soon. A hysterectomy now would raise too many questions. She’ll just have to endure it. I’ll make it up to her later, but I cannot risk her ever getting pregnant again.” Just then, his phone rang. He put it on speaker, and a man’s giddy voice filled the morgue. “Mr. Stone, the five million came through. Don’t you worry, I’m leaving the city now. Your wife will never know it was you who paid me to push her down those stairs. Heh heh.” Footsteps approached from within the morgue. I ignored the fire in my leg and stumbled back to my room. The image of my baby’s tiny, lifeless body in that cold room burned behind my eyes. I clutched my chest, tears splashing onto the pristine white bandages on my leg. It wasn’t an accident. My fall at the mall was an orchestrated event. My loving husband, clearing the way for his true love and their child. My baby hadn’t been saved. He’d been murdered. By his own father. To Adrian, my son and I were nothing but obstacles. “Ellie, you’re awake?” Adrian walked in, cradling a newborn. He smiled, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Look at our son. Doesn’t he look just like us?” He beamed. “Thank you, my love, for giving me such a beautiful boy. I swear I’ll be the best father in the world.” My gaze fell on the sleeping infant in his arms, and a fresh wave of pain ripped through me. He was wrong. No mother could fail to recognize her own child. The baby’s brow was all Adrian, but his nose, his chin… they were copied directly from Scarlett’s face. This was their son. My son was a cold corpse in the morgue. “Ellie, does your leg still hurt? Here, take some painkillers.” His voice was filled with the same gentle concern as always, a carefully constructed illusion meant to keep me docile. I looked at the pills in his hand, his words from the hallway echoing in my ears. “Adrian,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “The pills are too bitter. Can I take them later?” You’ve already murdered my child. Please, at least leave me the ability to be a mother again. He hesitated for only a second before stroking my hair. “You’re a mother now, acting like a little kid,” he cooed. “You went through so much during childbirth, and your leg is in such pain. I’ve been sick with worry, I haven’t slept a wink. Please, Ellie, do it for me? I have to be a good dad for our little boy.” He held up a glass. “I put honey in the water. It’s sweet. Come on, let me help you.” No. That’s not my baby. That’s yours and Scarlett’s. He held the pills to my lips, leaving no room for refusal. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I closed my eyes and swallowed them dry, ignoring the honeyed water. I wanted no part of his cloying, deceitful sweetness. The drug acted fast. A fire ignited in my womb, a searing agony as if a blade was carving me open from the inside. Blood began to seep from between my legs. “Elara! What’s wrong?” Adrian shouted for the doctor as I screamed, the pain pulling me into darkness. Through a hazy fog of consciousness, I heard the doctor’s grim report. “Mr. Stone, the drug has caused massive, irreversible damage to her uterus. It’s… destroyed. She’ll never be able to carry a child again.” Adrian let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. When I opened my eyes again, his were red-rimmed, his face a mask of anguish. “Ellie,” he whispered, his voice thick with fake sympathy. “The doctor said you had a sudden postpartum hemorrhage. You… you won’t be able to have any more children.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sad. We’re lucky we have Leo. He’ll grow up to take good care of you, I promise.” Leo? He’d already named Scarlett’s child? He dismissed the nurse, insisting on cleaning me up himself, despite his well-known fastidiousness. As he gently wiped away the blood, he told me his mother had been so excited to see her grandson that she’d already taken the baby home. By the time he was finished, it was late. I looked at his weary face and managed a weak smile. “I’m okay. You’ve had a long day. You should get some rest.” He kissed my forehead. “Alright. Wake me if you need anything. Tomorrow, we’ll go pick up Leo. The three of us will finally be a proper family.” Once he was sound asleep, I quietly picked up his phone. To prove his “loyalty,” he’d never set a passcode. What I never knew was that he had a dual-system interface. The password to switch systems was Scarlett’s birthday. The wallpaper flickered, changing to a photo of him and Scarlett from their university days. His chat list contained only one contact: Scarlett. I opened it, and a photo of her holding a baby stabbed me in the heart. “Adrian, look how beautiful our son is. He’s going to be as handsome as you when he grows up.” It was the same baby he had brought to my room. The further I scrolled, the colder my heart became. During my eight months of pregnancy, Adrian was constantly on “business trips.” I could count the number of days he’d spent with me on two hands. I hadn’t wanted to be a burden, so I’d endured the morning sickness and the lonely trips to the hospital by myself. Now I knew. The business trips were just an excuse to be with Scarlett, to care for her during her pregnancy. There were thousands of photos documenting every moment, from her first ultrasound to the delivery. Adrian cooking her special meals, taking her for walks, shopping for baby clothes. He’d even cupped his hands to catch her vomit when she was sick. He was by her side for every single check-up, his eyes gazing at her as if she were a priceless treasure. I had begged him, so many times, to help me choose a name for our baby. His replies were always terse and delayed. “Elara, a name is just a label. We can pick anything. I’m busy. We’ll talk about it after he’s born.” But for Scarlett’s baby, he had compiled a list of over a hundred names before she was even showing. “Scarlett, what about August? A future full of promise.” “Or Spencer? Scholarly and successful.” “No, let’s call him Leo. I don’t need him to be a genius. I just want him to be safe and sound, and to live a long, happy life.” After every one of her check-ups, he’d showered her with gifts—luxury jewelry, limited-edition sports cars. He’d even bought her a European castle to celebrate a smooth delivery. All I ever got was a text: “You did great, Elara. I have to go to a meeting.” The difference between being loved and not being loved was so stark, so brutal. My heart a hollow cavern, I put down the phone and booked a one-way ticket out of the country, for three days’ time. I lay back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, my soul consumed by a grief so vast it left no room for sleep. The next day, Adrian had his assistant deliver a gourmet meal, just as he always did. I used to be so touched by his thoughtfulness, that even when he was away, he was thinking of me. But now, picturing him in an apron, bustling around a kitchen for Scarlett, I saw it for what it was: a perfunctory, meaningless gesture. Money is worthless in the face of true devotion. Seeing that I hadn’t touched the food, Adrian’s brow furrowed with concern. “Ellie, why aren’t you eating? Do you not like it?” “It’s nothing. I just miss the baby.” Adrian smiled. “Ah, you miss our little Leo. I miss him too. I never understood it before, but now that I’m a father, I don’t want to be apart from him for a second. He’s the most adorable baby in the world.” He continued, “Mom is over the moon. She’s throwing a little celebration at the manor. We’ll go pick him up in a bit.” I said nothing. I was leaving anyway. Let him have his fantasy. When we arrived at the Stone family manor, we were greeted by the sight of his mother and Scarlett cooing over Leo. Scarlett was dressed in a stunning designer outfit, looking radiant, with none of the fatigue of a new mother. My mother-in-law was spoon-feeding her bird’s nest soup while fussing over the baby. Scarlett saw me and spoke, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Oh, you shouldn’t spoil me like this, Mother Stone. People might think I’m your daughter-in-law. Elara might get jealous. She’s so frail. You should give the soup to her.” My mother-in-law’s gaze shifted to me. She took in my clothes—the same ones from the day of the fall, still stained with dried blood—and her face twisted in disgust. “Does my son not provide for you? Why are you dressed in such a cursed outfit? Are you trying to disgrace our family? Look at Scarlett. You’re both new mothers, but she’s a hundred times better than you. You’re so pathetic.” “You’re the one who couldn’t sit still, running around while pregnant. It’s a shame the fall didn’t kill you. And now you have the nerve to stand there looking pitiful. Thank God my grandson is alright, or I’d have Adrian divorce you on the spot.” She sneered. “You took medication knowing you had to breastfeed. If Scarlett weren’t here to help, my grandson would have starved because of you, you wretched thing! I’m officially adopting Scarlett as my goddaughter. From now on, she’ll call me ‘Mom,’ just like Adrian.” I knew she’d never liked me. She thought I was beneath her son, especially compared to the beautiful, charming Scarlett, his childhood friend. She had only tolerated me for the sake of her grandchild. Every encounter was laced with her barbs. Before, Adrian would always defend me. He was the one who had insisted we go to the mall that day, to buy gifts for the baby. But now, his eyes were glued to Scarlett, filled with an unmistakable, tender affection. Scarlett, holding Leo, walked over to him and playfully linked her arm through his. “Did you hear that, Adrian? Your mother has made me her goddaughter. My dear big brother, have you prepared a gift for your new little sister?” Adrian pinched her cheek with a look of helpless adoration. “You’re such a tease. Don’t call me brother.” Despite his words, he had his assistant bring in 92 different fur coats from every major luxury brand, each complete with matching accessories. “I know you love to look beautiful, but you’re still recovering. You can’t catch a chill. There are 92 days of winter, one for every day.” Scarlett beamed and planted a kiss on his cheek, giddy as a schoolgirl. “Wow, some of these are from next year’s collection! And they’re all limited edition! How did you get them so early? Adrian, you’re the best to me.” She glanced at me coyly. “But won’t Elara be upset that you’re giving me so many gifts?” Compared to the racks of glorious, priceless furs, my blood-stained clothes made me feel like a pathetic clown. Adrian started, as if just remembering I was there. “Elara, it’s not what you think. Scarlett’s used to living abroad. You know how… open they are there.” He stammered, “And the coats… I heard she also just gave birth, and her husband is away. We grew up together, I just wanted to…” His words were cut off as Leo began to cry. Scarlett gasped. “Oh dear, is Leo hungry again? Mommy’s coming, sweetie.” She turned to me with a look of mock apology. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Elara. I’m just so used to calling myself that with my own baby. Besides, Leo always seems to love it when I say it.” She started for the stairs, then swayed, collapsing against Adrian. “Adrian, I feel a little dizzy…” Without a second thought, Adrian shoved me aside and caught her, his face etched with panic. “What’s wrong? You must be weak from the delivery. I told you to rest! Come on, I’ll carry you upstairs.” My right leg, still in its cast, buckled under the force of his push. I crashed to the floor, a bolt of searing pain shooting up my leg. But Adrian didn’t even glance at me. In front of everyone, he swept Scarlett into his arms, baby and all, and carried her up the stairs. The roomful of guests stared at me with open contempt. “No wonder he spoils Scarlett. She’s not just beautiful, she’s kind enough to breastfeed another woman’s child. Not like this useless thing. She’s pathetic, can’t even handle a little pain in her leg. And taking pills while she’s supposed to be nursing? So selfish.” “She calls herself a mother? Scarlett acts more like Leo’s mother than she does. She clearly loves him more. And Leo even looks a bit like Scarlett. The baby must be ashamed of Elara too. What a shame Scarlett and Adrian never got married.” My mother-in-law, far from defending me, shot me a look of pure hatred. “What are you doing, lying there on the floor like a dog? If you’re begging, go do it on the street. We don’t feed useless, lowly women in this house.” “You don’t care about your son, and you can’t even keep your husband’s heart. I hear you can’t have any more children? My son must have had a lifetime of bad luck to end up with a wife like you. Get out of my sight. Just looking at you shaves years off my life.” Humiliation washed over me. I thought of the divorce papers I had already prepared, tucked away in my phone. I said nothing. I struggled to my feet and limped upstairs to the study. I printed the divorce agreement and tucked it into my bag, then went to find Adrian in the guest room. But they weren’t there. Only a nanny, rocking a well-fed, sleeping Leo. Confused, I heard a sound from down the hall. An unmistakable sound, coming from the bedroom I shared with Adrian. The door was ajar. Through the crack, I could see Scarlett, her blouse wide open, straddling Adrian’s lap. Her voice was a sultry purr. “Adrian, honey, I have too much milk. Leo’s appetite is so small, and I’m so full… it hurts.” “I’m so uncomfortable… Won’t you help me? Please?” Adrian hesitated. “Scarlett, don’t. You just gave birth two days ago. Your body can’t take it. You already risked so much having my child behind your husband’s back. I can’t hurt you again…” She pressed his head to her chest. “Silly Adrian. I’m not afraid, why should you be? Having your baby was my choice. My husband is never around, he’ll never know. Come on, be good to me. Don’t you want a taste?” He could no longer resist. He leaned in, his mouth covering hers, then moving lower. The sounds from the room grew more explicit. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I couldn’t watch anymore. I fled the house, stumbling down the stairs and out into the cold night air. The suffocating feeling finally eased as I gasped the fresh air, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling. Adrian, you knew I was downstairs. How could you do such a thing? In our bedroom?! I sat numbly by the door. I don’t know how long I was there before a foul-smelling liquid was poured over my head. Scarlett appeared before me, a triumphant, ugly smile on her face. “How does it taste, Elara? My son’s piss? And did you enjoy the show? The sight of Adrian lost in ecstasy over me?” So she had wanted me to see. “Tsk, tsk. Look at you now. Your son is dead, your leg is crippled… If I were you, I would have killed myself already. What’s the point of living?” “So what if you married him? So what if you had his child? For me, for my child, he smothered your son and made sure you could never have another.” “I even have a video of your son’s last moments,” she cooed, her voice poisonously sweet. “Want to see his little face go from red to purple? It’s quite the show.” I stared at her phone, at the screen where my baby was slowly, silently suffocating to death. My entire body shook with a rage that was cold and absolute. How could she speak of murdering a child so casually, so cruelly? I raised my hand to strike her. But she was faster. She produced a dagger and drew it across her own chest. Blood blossomed on her blouse. The dagger clattered to the ground as she let out a piercing scream. A split second later, I was shoved violently to the ground. Adrian was there, cradling a screaming Scarlett in his arms. He turned to me, his face a thundercloud of fury. “Elara, are you insane?!” Before I could explain, Scarlett burst into tears. “Adrian, I was just worried she’d be upset about me nursing Leo. I wanted to explain, but… but she said I was trying to steal her baby! She said she was going to cut off my breasts so I could never feed him again! I was just trying to help, I couldn’t bear to see him go hungry! How could she do this to me?” Adrian’s gaze fell on me, dark and menacing. “You’re the one who fell down the stairs and broke your own leg. Why are you taking it out on Scarlett? You took medication, you can’t nurse the baby. She was helping you, out of the kindness of her heart, and you attack her? You may not care about your child, but you won’t let anyone else care for him either?!” I’m not a good mother? I don’t care about my child? Tears of pure rage streamed down my face. “I’m not a good mother? And you? Why don’t you tell me why I fell down those stairs? Why don’t you tell me where my real son is? And what was in that medicine you forced me to take?!” Adrian frowned. “Leo is sleeping soundly in his room. And the medicine was for your leg pain. You know all this.” He sneered. “You fell because you were clumsy. There was a crowd of people there. Why were you the only one who got pushed? Don’t blame your own incompetence on Scarlett. You’re a mother yourself. How could you bear to harm another mother? Apologize to her. Now.” Yes. A crowd of people. Why was I the only one who fell? Looking at his self-righteous face, a laugh, hollow and broken, escaped my lips. This was my husband. A liar. A murderer.

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1 The year I turned thirty, I did something stupid. I hid Wade Thorne’s little canary, his mistress, in a desperate attempt to win back his heart. When he found out, he didn’t hesitate. In a matter of days, my family’s company was bankrupt. My father, his life’s work destroyed, saw his hair turn white overnight. My mother nearly cried herself blind. And now, Wade was threatening to make my father kneel and beg for forgiveness, all to force me to reveal where his little bird was hidden. “Annabelle, I spoiled you too much,” he snarled, his voice a low growl. “It’s made you forget your place.” “Since you’re the one who made the mistake, I’ll be the one to teach you a lesson.” As the words left his mouth, his bodyguards seized my father, forcing his head down and slamming it against the cold, hard floor. In that moment, my heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. … “Wade, that’s my father! He’s your elder! You can’t do this!” I screamed, a pain that gnawed at my soul tearing through me. My voice was hoarse, laced with a despair so deep it felt like the end of the world. We had dated for four years and been married for eight. Twelve years of our lives were tangled together. I never imagined it would end like this, with our hearts grown so distant, our bond irrevocably severed. Wade seized my chin, forcing my head up to meet his gaze. His face was a thunderous mask of fury. “Where did you hide Leah?” I wanted to fight back, but his men were everywhere. I choked back a sob and squeezed my eyes shut. My foolish pride had already cost my parents their life’s work; I couldn’t let them lose their dignity, too. I bit my lip until I tasted blood and met his cold stare. “Let my parents go. Promise me you’ll never bother them again, and I’ll tell you.” Wade waved a dismissive hand, and the bodyguards released my father. Just as a wave of relief washed over me, his hand shot out and clamped around my throat, slowly lifting me until my feet dangled in the air. The air vanished from my lungs. I clawed at his hand instinctively, but his voice was a blade of ice in my ear. “Annabelle, have I given you too much face?” “Did you really think I was that easy to negotiate with?” “Finding Leah is a matter of minutes for me. What gives someone like you the right to bargain?” “Crushing you,” he whispered, “would be as easy as stepping on an ant. Do you understand?” A suffocating blanket of terror and hopelessness enveloped me. I stared at him, tears streaming silently from the corners of my eyes. But even through the fear, I forced the words out. “Even so… you can’t hurt my parents! They’re my family!” At that, something in him snapped. His face darkened, and his grip tightened, as if he meant to end my life right then and there. Just as my vision began to blacken, he released me. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, my body shaking violently with a fear that was bone-deep. In that single, terrifying moment, our entire past flashed before my eyes. All the tender moments, the stolen kisses, the whispered promises—they all twisted together into a single, sharp dagger that plunged straight into my heart. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I broke down, sobbing. For the sudden, violent death of our love. For the hopeless abyss our marriage had become. And for the pathetic, desperate woman I had become, sacrificing my own dignity to try and save it all. Wade just stood there, watching me with cold, detached eyes, an aura of brutal power radiating from him. He strode forward and roughly tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Tell me. Where did you hide Leah?” His tone was so vicious, I knew that if I didn’t answer, something far worse was waiting for me. “The countryside,” I choked out. “She’s in the countryside.” In an instant, his fury melted into triumph. He turned on his heel and left, his men following in his wake. I knew. From that moment on, he was no longer my husband. And no matter how much I still loved him, I had to rip him out of my heart. Even if it tore out half my soul, I would do it without hesitation. 2 “Anna, honey, are you okay?” My mother pulled me into a tight embrace, her voice thick with tears. I shook my head, my own sobs choking me as I apologized over and over. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom, Dad. If it weren’t for me, this never would have happened, you wouldn’t have to…” My father wrapped his arms around both of us, his voice aged and trembling. “It’s not your fault. Our Anna has suffered, too.” I wiped my tears away, my voice filled with a newfound resolve. “Mom, Dad… I’m divorcing Wade.” “Good,” my father said, his voice firm. “Nothing is more important than your happiness.” … I fell for Wade in college. It was love at first sight, for me at least. I chased him relentlessly, and after a long time, he finally gave in. We got married the day after graduation. It was only after we’d impulsively signed the papers that I learned who he really was. The heir to the Thorne fortune. He had never mentioned it. I’d always thought he was just a handsome, ordinary guy. After all, what kind of billionaire’s son wears faded jeans and threadbare t-shirts? He explained it to me later. “I was afraid people were after my money, not me.” I was so naive, I actually felt lucky that I’d fallen for his looks, not his wallet. I never thought to ask him what he saw in me. I also never imagined that the day I discovered his affair, he would point a finger at me and say: “Annabelle, why are you making such a scene?” “What does a thirty-year-old woman like you have that a girl in her early twenties doesn’t?” “You’re not as young as them, not as pretty, and your body isn’t as good.” “If I’m not going to play with them, am I supposed to play with you?” His words plunged me into an icy abyss. He seemed to have forgotten. He was the one who had begged me, with red-rimmed eyes, to love him just a little bit more. He was the one who had said: “Annabelle, my parents never taught me how to love someone.” “I don’t know how. Please, teach me.” “I want to love you right.” And he had also said: “Annabelle, my parents destroyed my perception of the world.” “You’re the only one who’s ever shown me what real love is.” Because of his parents, Wade was deeply insecure. So I whispered “I love you” in his ear, over and over, a constant reassurance. But he still needed to test my love, again and again. I was patient, I was tolerant. I would hold him in my arms, my heart aching for him, until he finally fell into a peaceful sleep. I thought we would grow old together like that, inseparable. Then he got his little canary, and it caught me completely off guard. Leah was twenty, a junior in college. I first saw her about six months ago. Wade had gotten into a brawl and was being held at the local police precinct. I went to bail him out. He was radiating a dark, violent energy, but the moment he saw me, it all dissipated. He followed me meekly as I took care of everything. Just as we were leaving, a young woman in a cocktail waitress uniform rushed up to him. “Sir, thank you so much,” she gushed. “If it weren’t for you tonight, I don’t know what would have happened. Thank you. If there’s ever a chance, I’ll do anything to repay you.” I froze, looking at Wade with confusion in my eyes. He waved her off with an impatient scowl. “Just find a different job.” The girl looked troubled. “I… I can’t. This one pays too well…” Wade looked her up and down, a predatory smile playing on his lips. “Is that so?” That girl was Leah. At the time, I couldn’t understand why Wade would suddenly help a stranger. He explained, “Seeing her… she reminded me of you when you were twenty. So I helped.” I didn’t think much of it. Not until he started bringing her to galas and charity events, brazenly holding her, kissing her in public for everyone to see. That’s when I finally understood the meaning of that predatory smile. He had wanted her from the very beginning. I cried. I screamed. I threw things. All I got in return was his cold reply: “Annabelle, what’s the big deal? When you were twenty, didn’t I love you just the same?” In that moment, I understood Wade’s love. He only loved women in their twenties. And I was no longer in that phase of my life. I wanted to file for divorce immediately. But life has a cruel sense of irony. After years of trying to get pregnant with no success, I found out I was pregnant right after I discovered his affair. For the sake of the baby, for the sake of our twelve years together, I decided to give him one last chance. If he would just come back to me, I would forgive him. So, I hired a few people to take Leah to a remote house in the countryside and keep her there. The result was crystal clear. For her, Wade destroyed my father’s life’s work. For her, he humiliated my parents. He showed no mercy, no consideration for our twelve years of history. I had lost. Utterly and completely.

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One minute I’m gone, the next I wake up, and somehow I’m Cinderella’s stepmother. And the moment I meet my deadbeat husband again, he literally drops dead from happiness! 01 Wait, didn’t I die? Since when was the afterlife this noisy? “Cinderella’s nothing but bad luck! If it weren’t for her, Mom wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” “Mom, Mom, wake up!” Someone was shaking me, making my head spin. Then, a flood of unfamiliar memories rushed in, mixing with the arguing voices around me. I realized… I was alive again. And somehow, I’d landed smack-dab in the middle of the Grimm fairy tale, Cinderella. The constant racket was coming from the story’s heroine and her two “wicked” stepsisters. And I, unfortunately, was the wicked stepmother. But according to my new memories, things were a little different from the story. “I” was actually Cinderella’s father’s first love. My family went bankrupt thanks to bad management, leaving me broke. As soon as the money was gone, Cinderella’s dad dumped me and our twin daughters flat, turning around to marry Cinderella’s mother. Even though I resented him like hell, “I” worked my fingers to the bone, raising two daughters alone. Then, wouldn’t you know it, Cinderella’s mom got sick and died, and her dad came sniffing around “me” again. At the time, “I” was working shifts at a bakery, barely scraping by, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of responsibility. I basically told him to get lost. But Robert – yeah, that was his name – was persistent. He brought flowers, gave me rides home, and doted on my daughters. “I” saw the longing for a father in my girls’ eyes, saw Robert acting all sincere, and my resolve crumbled. I agreed to give it another shot. We got married quickly, wanting to give the girls a proper family. But after the wedding, Robert changed completely. He became useless, doing nothing all day but drinking with his buddies or running off to the city to “network.” And he just dumped little Cinderella on “me.” So “I” was out working every day, my two daughters handled the house, and Cinderella was too young for chores. But did that stop her from “helping”? Nope. Whenever her sisters were working, she’d volunteer, only to make a bigger mess, ruining whatever they were trying to do. “I” was often so exhausted I could barely speak. My husband was useless, I had to earn the money, and manage three kids at home. And guess who always ended up cleaning up Cinderella’s messes? Me. Even a saint would lose patience. “I” yelled at everyone – my daughters, Cinderella, even their deadbeat, drunken dad. My own girls never complained, but Cinderella? She always acted like I was the cruelest person on earth, making the neighbors whisper that “I” was abusing my stepdaughter. Let them talk, “I” was too tired to care. But then they had to start sticking their noses where they didn’t belong… 2: Why Are You Crying? The memories settled. I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a rickety wooden house, furniture tossed around, eggs splattered on the walls, and bits of rotting vegetable scraps stuck everywhere. Influenced by the memories, my first thought looking at the broken eggshells was, What a waste. Seriously, those were perfectly good eggs. Could’ve sold them for decent money. While I was spacing out, my older daughter, Tara, grabbed my arm, tears of joy streaming down her face. “Mom, oh thank goodness, you’re awake!” My younger daughter, Amber, was fussing over me too. Only Cinderella stood off to the side, sniffling and sobbing like her whole world had ended. I took a closer look at Cinderella’s ragged gray dress. It was old, sure, but warm enough and looked spotlessly clean. Then I noticed that while she was covering her face and crying, not a single tear actually fell. Crocodile tears. The whole scene almost made me laugh. I walked over, smoothed down Cinderella’s neat, soft hair, and asked, pretending to be gentle, “Kylie, why are you crying?” Cinderella’s real name was Kylie. But no matter how many new dresses I bought her, she always wore that drab gray thing. Eventually, everyone, including my own daughters, started calling her Cinderella. Hearing my question, Kylie flinched, choked back a sob, but didn’t answer. Tara, getting impatient, jumped in. “Mom, don’t you remember? A bunch of villagers came by, yelling that you hit Kylie all the time, starved her, didn’t give her clothes… They said you weren’t fit to be a mother! They stormed in and trashed the place.” “It’s all her fault!” Amber added, her anger rising. She started rolling up her sleeves like she was ready to smack Kylie. “If it wasn’t for her, those people wouldn’t have come here causing trouble and pushing you down, Mom! You got hurt because of her!” Kylie just kept crying. I noticed her subtly shifting towards the door, and saw a few slivers of fabric disappear behind the doorframe. Onlookers. It clicked. I stopped Amber, putting on my kindest voice. “Now, now, how can you blame Kylie? Mom has to work all day. The food I make, the clothes I buy – they’re the same for all of you. People just don’t realize Kylie prefers this gray dress. It’s just a misunderstanding.” “The people around here are good-hearted,” I continued smoothly. “Once Mom explains things clearly, it’ll all be fine.” I gently patted the almost dust-free gray skirt Kylie was wearing and gave her a warm smile. “Am I right, Kylie?” 3: Dealing with the Little Snake Kylie was clearly shocked by my sudden change in attitude. She stammered, “O-of course, Mom. You’re very good to me.” The second the words were out, she frowned, looking annoyed, like she’d said the wrong thing. I noticed the figures lurking outside our broken door quickly melt away. Then Kylie said, “Mom, if you’re okay, I’ll go fetch the water now.” I kept smiling, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “No need. You’ve had quite a fright today. Let Tara get the water. You go rest in your room.” Tara snorted but didn’t argue, heading out efficiently to get the water. Kylie glanced at me nervously several times before hesitantly walking away. Watching her timid little retreating back, I sneered inwardly. Ha! Did she really think a PhD in psychology like me couldn’t handle a little manipulator like her? The next couple of days were much calmer. People in the neighborhood were still gossiping, but they seemed warier, keeping their distance. Because that useless drunk husband of mine hadn’t been home in two days, we were completely out of meat. I had to take a day off work and head into town with Tara to buy groceries. Once we got to town, the marketplace was chaotic. People were rushing in one direction. Tara was curious, so I went with her to see what was up. Turns out, the royal family had posted a new announcement. In three days, there would be a grand ball at the palace. All eligible unmarried young women from every family were required to attend. The Prince himself would choose his future bride that very night. Seeing the notice, Tara went ballistic with excitement, shaking my arm. “Mom, I need a new dress! I want to go to the ball!” Honestly, I was even more excited than Tara. Because I instantly remembered the original ending for these two girls in the story. Tara cut off her big toe, Amber sliced off her heel, and both ended up crippled. After Cinderella married the Prince, the three of us – my daughters and I – were kicked out of the country to face a miserable end.

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