Category: English

To save the fake daughter’s scar, my brother forced me to switch skin with her. He tied me to the operating table with his own hands, ordering them to flay me alive. To ensure the skin graft was successful, they didn’t even give me anesthetic, letting me constantly fade in and out of consciousness from the unbearable pain. When the surgery finally ended, the operating room floor was saturated with my blood, leaving only a blood-soaked, barely breathing version of me, stripped of most of my skin. Faintly, I heard my brother’s voice from beyond the door: “No one is to help her without my command. This little pain, she must endure it twofold.” My blood drained away, drip by painful drip, and my wounds became repeatedly infected. On the verge of death, I wanted to say one last word to him, but then I heard his voice from the other end of the phone: “She’s just losing a bit of skin and already making a scene? Why didn’t you think about their pain when you hurt Seraphina? Want to see me? Only after you’re dead!” But when he truly learned I was gone, my brother went mad. 1 My urn was carried back to Willow Creek Orphanage by Eleanor Vance just as a group of men ransacked the place, overturning everything. The children screamed, their cries echoing through the rooms, but a tall, stern-faced man stood in the distance, a look of disdain etched across his features. He was my brother, Alexander. Eleanor shielded the terrified children behind her, her voice raw and hoarse. “Alexander, you tortured Audrey to death, literally. Why won’t you even spare her last bit of legacy?” Alexander’s face twisted in mockery. “Her face got messed up, so she can’t sell it anymore, and now she’s faking her death for money, is that it?” He sneered, then barked, “Tell her! Playing dead won’t work. Seraphina’s arm was clawed up. If she doesn’t get out here and give Seraphina some skin, I’ll tear this orphanage down, right now!” Eleanor swayed, barely able to stand. She clutched my urn tightly. “She can’t switch skin anymore, Alexander. Audrey is dead. She won’t be bullied by you people ever again.” Alexander glanced at the urn, an impatient flicker in his eyes, then suddenly reached out and swatted the box from her grasp. With a sickening crash, my ashes scattered across the cold, unforgiving floor. But Alexander wasn’t done. He raised his foot and ground his heel savagely into the pile of gray-white powder. Eleanor’s eyes widened in horror. She screamed and lunged forward, pushing him away with all her might. “You’re insane! She’s your own sister!” “I don’t have a sister as wicked as her!” Alexander kicked Eleanor away, then lifted his leg, stomping viciously on her fingers, grinding his foot down. “She’s so evil, shouldn’t her ashes be black?” He spat, “Honestly, you’re pathetic. You used to beg at my feet like a dog for money, and now, to scam me, you’ve even conjured up fake ashes!” Eleanor convulsed in pain, but her gaze remained fixed on my scattered remains. Her tears had dried up long ago, leaving only a choked, repeated question. “She’s your sister, she’s my Audrey! Why won’t you let her rest in peace, even in death?” Alexander impatiently kicked Eleanor again, unleashing his fury on her body. “I wish she’d died sooner, but how dare that menace die before atoning for her sins?” Each kick stirred my ashes. He only stopped when his bodyguard informed him that I hadn’t been found in the orphanage. With a disgusted grunt, he wiped the ash from his shoe onto Eleanor’s clothes, then abruptly pressed his foot down on her shoulder, as if trying to crush her bones. “Still protecting her, are you? Tell her to show herself by tomorrow morning, or this orphanage, and every single child in it, will suffer because of that blight!” The cruelty in his eyes was crystal clear. As he turned to leave, he couldn’t resist one last, savage stomp on my ashes. Dozens of bodyguards followed, their heavy boots crushing my remains, leaving countless dusty footprints in the courtyard. My heart shattered. I lunged forward, desperately trying to help Eleanor, who was still clutching my scattered ashes. My ghost form passed right through her, and a searing pain lanced through me, stealing my breath. Right. I was dead. Even if I were alive, I wouldn’t have a single patch of good skin left to give Seraphina. So, brother, please, let Eleanor go. Silence finally returned to the courtyard. Eleanor carefully shifted her body, gathering my ashes little by little. The small wooden urn, shattered into splinters, pierced her palms, drawing blood. But Eleanor seemed not to notice. She meticulously pieced the wooden box back together, then, with the reverence of someone handling a precious jewel, she placed every last speck of my ash back inside. When she finished, she composed herself, as if nothing had happened, and busied herself preparing dinner for the children. Only when she was completely alone did she allow herself to cough up a mouthful of blood. Trembling, she lifted her shirt. The bandages wrapped around her abdomen were soaked through with fresh crimson. I wept, my ghost form hovering over her. This was an old wound, left from when Eleanor had an incision made in her stomach and had countless blood samples drawn to raise money for my medical bills. But even then, it wasn’t enough. That’s why she had knelt before my brother, begging for a tiny loan. But Alexander was too busy showering Seraphina with gifts. When he saw Eleanor blocking his way, he kicked her without hesitation. Eleanor couldn’t get up for a long time that day. Blood pooled beneath her, yet she remained stubbornly determined to plead for a chance for me to live. But she knelt from dawn till dusk, and all she received was news of my death. Her old wound unhealed, now compounded by new injuries, Eleanor’s face was ashen, her lips pale. I clung to her, my tears flowing as uncontrollably as the blood soaking her abdomen. This woman, barely fifty, seemed to have reached her breaking point. Her hair, once raven, was now entirely white, making her look eighty. I clung to her, my soul wailing silently, a cry of utter despair. When I was five, Eleanor found me, lost and disfigured, a child no one dared approach. She took me into her home. When I was eighteen, afflicted by snake venom, abandoned by my family, she was the one who fought tooth and nail to pull me back from the clutches of death. After that, I stopped asking for anything else. All I wanted was to help Eleanor keep the orphanage safe. But in the end, that very wish became the death knell for the orphanage, and for Eleanor’s heart. 2 Before dawn broke, Eleanor, dragging her broken body, began packing the children’s belongings. But the next second, a bulldozer violently smashed through the orphanage gates. Eleanor didn’t hesitate. She rushed straight into the vehicle’s path. “Unless you roll over my dead body, you won’t lay a finger on this place!” A disdainful scoff came from the side. My brother’s luxury car window rolled down. “Then hand over that bitch, Audrey, or else you think I want to touch this filthy place?” Eleanor was barely standing. She struggled to pull a chair over and sat down, her snow-white hair whipped wildly by the morning breeze. “Audrey is already ash, Alexander. You stomped all over her yesterday.” Alexander burst into laughter. “Still so stubborn? Audrey’s probably crawling into some rich old man’s bed again. How much did she pay you to protect her like this?” Eleanor’s shoulders trembled violently. Finally, she couldn’t hold back, her trembling finger pointing at Alexander. “Alexander, she was your sister! She’s dead! Why do you still insult her like this?” “I don’t have a sister like her! My only sister is Seraphina!” Beside him, Seraphina’s small face was pale. She tugged gently at Alexander’s sleeve. “Brother, don’t be angry. I’ll just kneel and apologize to Sister, like I always used to. Every time I did that, Sister would forgive me…” She started to open the car door to get out. Alexander pulled her back instantly, his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d never seen directed at me. He was even red-eyed, holding Seraphina close. “My poor sister, you’ve suffered so much. It’s all my fault for not protecting you.” Seraphina forced a brave smile, her eyes red, tears streaming down her face no matter how she tried to wipe them away. “No, Brother. Every day I spend with you, I’m happy.” She carefully pulled up her sleeve, revealing gauze faintly stained with blood on her arm, looking utterly pathetic. “Brother, Seraphina doesn’t hurt at all. Seraphina just wants to be by Brother’s side, just wants Sister to tolerate me.” Those tears made Alexander clench his fist. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, snarling my name as he comforted Seraphina. “Don’t worry. She has no say in our family. When I find her, I’ll make sure she suffers a fate worse than death!” But I was already suffering a fate worse than death. My ghost hovered beside Eleanor, my very soul tearing apart, gasping for breath. I had long given up on family affection. But Alexander, Seraphina only needed such a tiny patch of skin. Yet you had them strip so much from me. So much that I couldn’t possibly live. After comforting Seraphina, my brother gave a command, and a swarm of men immediately surged into the orphanage. The still-bewildered children were tossed outside. Eleanor’s cherished furniture and tables were brutally smashed. The ground was littered with broken pieces. Amidst the wails of the children, Eleanor desperately rushed forward, only to be knocked to the ground, spitting a mouthful of blood. She didn’t bother to wipe it away, instead trembling as she pulled a piece of paper from her chest. “Alexander, if you don’t believe Audrey is dead, you’ll surely believe the death certificate issued by the hospital!” Was it my imagination, or did I see my brother’s body momentarily stiffen? He finally stepped out of the car, but before he could take the death certificate, Eleanor’s phone lit up in front of him. It was an email I had scheduled to send to Eleanor! The glaring words “Audrey” stood out like some damning evidence. My brother suddenly let out a strange, guttural laugh. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby watering can and savagely smashed it against Eleanor. “We should really go into acting!” he raged. “I almost fell for that bitch’s trick again!” He slammed his foot down. “Since you’re so determined to seek death, fine! I’ll grant your wish! Bodyguards, move!” At my brother’s command, the roaring machines moved forward like devouring beasts. The building, filled with children’s laughter and my fondest memories, began to crumble. Eleanor, dragging her frail, withered body, desperately tried to stop them, stumbling and cutting herself all over. “No! That’s not it, that’s…” Her voice was drowned out by the enormous roar. I completely forgot I was dead, rushing to the front of the vehicles, trying to block them. I was simply passed through without mercy. I collapsed to my knees, frantically pounding the ground. Tears of bitter resentment rained down. Brother, why wouldn’t you just look a little closer? Those were all scheduled emails, brother. And every single one of them was my last will! Eleanor and the children were tightly cornered by the bodyguards, forced to watch helplessly as the orphanage collapsed with a thunderous roar. I cried until my entire body was numb, seeing the flicker of excitement in my brother’s eyes. I’d always known it; he didn’t just hate me, he hated this orphanage even more. Because it was here, once upon a time, that the most painful, most unspeakable humiliation had befallen him. 3 “Cough, cough…” Hearing Seraphina’s weak cough, Alexander rushed back into the car and closed the windows tightly. “Ugh, she’s as filthy as Audrey!” he muttered, then turned to Seraphina. “Seraphina, just hang on a little longer. We’re going straight back to the hospital.” Seraphina coughed the entire way. Alexander, frantic, immediately had Mr. Caldwell, the hospital administrator, waiting at the entrance, as if he could fly back. And all the while, he didn’t forget to curse me. “Audrey truly is a plague! If it weren’t for her, why would you be coughing so terribly?” When the test results came in, Alexander literally jumped out of his chair. Seraphina was experiencing severe rejection; if it worsened, she could die. The most effective solution was a blood transfusion from me. Before Alexander could even speak, Seraphina bravely tried to sit up, her eyes brimming with tears, fragile and delicate. “Brother, no, we can’t let Sister be hurt because of me again.” She wept. “It’s all my fault for taking Sister’s place. This is what I deserve, Brother, don’t trouble Sister for my sake anymore. Just let me go like this… I just… I can’t bear to leave you, Brother!” She then embraced him, crying as if her end was imminent. Alexander was heartbroken. “What nonsense are you talking about? How could I watch you die? You’re my precious heart! If you die, I won’t survive either.” He squeezed her. “Don’t worry. Whether she’s alive or dead, I’ll find Audrey and bring her back for the transfusion.” I watched their display of sibling affection with a cold laugh. Oh, so Seraphina did know she had taken my place? I was lured away and got lost at five years old, falling down a slope where a tree branch left a deep, gruesome scar across my face. Eleanor found me and raised me for five years. When I finally came home, I learned that ‘I’ had been at the Montgomery estate all along. She was Seraphina. My brother said it was to avoid public gossip, to have her temporarily fill my place. But when Dad and Alexander saw the twisted, centipede-like scar on my face, they never mentioned switching us back. From then on, my name was Audrey. Audrey, as in ‘quiet’ – the silent kind. The one who shuts up. After returning home, I received endless clothes and jewelry, but the look in their eyes held an undisguised disgust. Until a group of high-society girls were terrified by my face, screaming and crying. I was formally banished from the main house, forced to live with the servants. Yet, I clearly saw Seraphina hiding behind a pillar, smirking. My school, the lavish parties, my coming-out ball… everything that was supposed to be mine was stolen by her. Until the day I was set to enroll in college, Seraphina told me that my university spot had also become hers. I didn’t believe it, but she simply pulled out the acceptance letter. The name on it had indeed changed to Seraphina. Before I could erupt in fury, she leaned in close, her eyes alight with unconcealed triumph. “Everything of yours will be mine, including that face of yours. I’m the one who cut it, you know.” A long-forgotten sensation flashed through me: my face, it had been cut by a stone! I couldn’t hold back any longer and slapped her. But the next second, Alexander shoved me, and my hand seemed to brush against something cold. Dad, Alexander, and Seraphina rushed to the hospital, not even sparing me a glance. A searing pain shot through my arm. I turned to see a snake, its fangs deeply embedded in my flesh. I frantically shook it off, but the venom had already begun to take hold. With my last ounce of strength, I dialed emergency services. When I woke up, the one by my side was Eleanor. After that day, Alexander paid me 500,000 to get rid of me, throwing me out of the family home. At that point, Seraphina had truly stolen everything from me. So, was my skin, my blood, even my very life, all part of her elaborate plan? Then go ahead and search. I’m now curious to see what my brother’s reaction will be when he discovers that even my ashes have been scattered by his own hand.

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I, Abigail Graham, and Serena Vance were notorious rivals at the company. We fought over deals at work and, in private, we fought over men. After three years of relentless competition for the same man, I suddenly found it utterly pointless. So, I chose Art Sterling, our new superior, who had actively sought me out. For two years, we loved each other. Our bodies intertwined with an undeniable chemistry. We were on the cusp of marriage. The unexpected news of my pregnancy filled me with such elation; I was eager to share it with Art. But then, in the break room, I overheard his conversation with Serena. “Are you really going to marry Abby, just for me?” Serena’s voice was a soft purr. “It doesn’t matter who I marry, does it? Besides, she’s quite comfortable in bed.” Art chuckled, a casual, almost dismissive sound. “She’s not entirely useless.” “But what if I don’t want her to get off that easy?” Serena pressed, a sly edge to her tone. “Are you willing to let go of Marcus Thorne?” Art’s voice held a knowing note. Serena’s laughter, a light, triumphant trill, echoed in the room. A wave of icy dread washed over me, as if I’d been struck by lightning. My assumed mutual love was nothing but a calculated conspiracy. My mind went blank, swallowed by a boundless, suffocating darkness. I made the decision to terminate the pregnancy. Then, I dialed Marcus Thorne’s number. 1 The doctor held the ultrasound sheet, and I sat across from her, numb. “Yes, you’re pregnant. About a month and a half along. Are you married?” “No.” “Will you keep the baby or not?” “Not keeping it.” “When would you like the procedure?” “As soon as possible.” “Alright, then schedule a time with the assistant physician.” “Okay.” I left the hospital, my steps heavy, my mind a disoriented haze. I called my father. “Dad, the wedding I mentioned to you is off.” My father sounded stunned. “Abby, didn’t you say last time that you and Art had a wonderful relationship? That he was mature, steady, and truly exceptional?” “Did something happen?” I felt a pang of shame. “We broke up.” My father sighed. “Well, if you broke up, you broke up.” “You can find someone else you truly like. You know your mother’s and my thoughts—we hope you’ll stay close to us.” “I know, Dad. I’ll consider it.” “I’m sorry to make you worry.” After hanging up, I sat alone on the sofa, staring into space. The sound of the door opening broke my reverie. Art was home. He leaned in, hugging me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. His voice was laced with an irritating cheerfulness. “What reason did you give for taking time off this afternoon?” “You wouldn’t tell me. Why are you sitting in the living room, staring into space?” The memory of his conversation with Serena flashed through my mind, and I gently pulled away from his embrace. “I just felt a bit unwell, so I came home early.” His expression shifted, clearly showing concern. “Unwell? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Are you feeling better now?” “Should we go to the hospital?” I scrutinized the man before me, carefully examining his face. His features were etched with what looked like genuine worry and care. If I hadn’t overheard that conversation, who would have ever guessed it was all a charade? “Art, I’m pregnant.” At my words, a flicker of discomfort instantly crossed his face, quickly followed by a wide, beaming smile. “Really? That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, his voice too loud, too forced. “It seems we’ll have to speed up our wedding plans.” That brief, almost imperceptible flicker of discomfort I’d caught was now seared into my mind. So, I hadn’t misheard. He really was marrying me for Serena. His entire approach to me was merely to clear away the obstacles in his true love’s path. How incredibly noble of him, sacrificing himself for the woman he adored! But why did I have to be the sacrifice? Was playing people like this truly so satisfying? I lowered my head, nodding slightly. Then I asked the question that had been hovering, a persistent ache in my chest. “Art, do you love me?” He stroked my hair, his touch a familiar comfort that now felt like a betrayal. “Of course I love you!” “If I didn’t love you, why would I want to marry you?” I closed my eyes. “Then… is there anything you’ve been keeping from me?” “Or, to put it another way, have you lied to me?” His cheek twitched almost imperceptibly. “How could I ever lie to you?” “I love you too much for that. We’re going to be together forever.” I let out a soft, hollow laugh. I had given him a chance, but he insisted on continuing the deception. Then he had no one to blame but himself. There would be a wedding, alright. Just not our wedding. 2 In the conference room, Art spoke first. “Abby, what’s the progress on the Starlight project?” “I’ve scheduled a meeting with Mr. Evans from Starlight tonight. There are still a few concession points to finalize.” The Starlight project was one I had pursued for two months before finally securing a meeting with Mr. Evans. Essentially, once Mr. Evans gave his nod, the contract could be signed immediately. Serena had initially been in charge of the project, but it had made no headway in the three months it was in her hands. Art had then transferred it to me. Her face had been livid at the time; I never found out how Art compensated her afterwards. As I mentally sorted through these convoluted relationships, Art’s voice cut in. “Serena and I will accompany you to the dinner tonight.” I stared at him, stunned. Him accompanying me, I could understand; he was my superior, after all. But bringing Serena along? What did that mean? Was she trying to snatch my project? Now, of all times? A wave of confusion washed over me. Mr. Evans had a known preference in the industry: he loved to drink, always wanting to have a good time. However, his wife strictly controlled his alcohol intake, making it notoriously difficult to schedule non-essential business dinners with him. The high-end private room was filled with seven or eight people, the atmosphere harmonious. Art was the first to raise his glass. “Mr. Evans, it’s truly our honor to have you here tonight.” “Abby here has an excellent tolerance for alcohol. At our company, she’s known for being able to drink anyone under the table.” “With her accompanying you tonight, I’m sure you’ll have a thoroughly enjoyable time.” My fingers, gripping the wine glass, turned white at the knuckles. I had told him just the day before that I was pregnant. It hadn’t even registered with him; he showed no regard for the child I carried, his child. Well, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on keeping this baby anyway, otherwise I wouldn’t have scheduled this meeting with Mr. Evans. But the wine tonight was particularly foul. The combination of morning sickness and the alcohol’s bite made me feel waves of nausea, threatening to overwhelm me. Mr. Evans seemed to notice my discomfort. “Is Ms. Graham unwell?” I swallowed down the rising bile, about to speak, when Serena cut me off. “This little bit of wine is nothing for Ms. Graham.” “Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Graham?” “How about I have a drink with Mr. Evans instead?” She moved to raise her glass, but Art’s hand covered it. “Mr. Evans, you might not know this, but Serena is allergic to alcohol.” “So, I’ll drink this one for her.” He raised his glass and downed it in one go, then displayed the empty glass to everyone. I had already chugged over a dozen glasses, and he hadn’t offered to take a single one for me. Yet the moment Serena even thought about raising her glass, he intervened. Indeed, love and indifference were starkly visible. I silently swallowed the bitterness in my heart. Art’s voice continued. “Mr. Evans, let Serena handle the subsequent details for our company. Ms. Graham here is getting married soon and might not have the time to oversee the project anymore.” My head snapped up, my gaze locking onto Art. So that was it. They had truly come tonight for the project in my hands. Mr. Evans’s eyes widened in surprise, then he offered an understanding smile. “Is that so? Well, congratulations, Ms. Graham. Life’s big events should certainly take precedence.” As the client, it didn’t really matter which account manager they signed the contract with, as long as the service was high-quality, efficient, and the costs were minimized. A look of triumph flashed across Serena’s face, her smile broad and brazen. My insides, however, churned with turmoil. Art’s flippant words had just undone months of my hard work. I had done the legwork, and the fruit was almost ripe, only to have someone else steal it. This was beyond enduring. So, I spoke up, my voice firm. “Mr. Evans, our boss is just joking!” “It’s just a wedding; it can definitely be postponed. Work still needs to come first.” “I prefer to finish what I start.” “I’ll continue to handle the follow-up work. There’s no need to trouble Serena.” Sure enough, Art’s face darkened, his brow furrowing as he glared at me. I met his gaze squarely, unflinching. Though this little spat had erupted, for Mr. Evans, it was all just a show. 3 After seeing Mr. Evans off, I could no longer suppress the retching in my throat. I rushed to the restroom and emptied my stomach, dry-heaving violently. When I emerged from the restroom, Serena was already settled in the passenger seat of Art’s car. From outside, I could clearly see Serena leaning her head close to Art. They were sharing some delightful secret, and Serena was laughing, her body shaking with mirth. As I got into the car, they abruptly cut off their conversation. Art deliberately took a detour to drop Serena off at her place. As she left, Serena shot me a dismissive, condescending smirk. I wondered where she found such confidence. Did she truly believe that because Art loved her, she could walk all over me? Back home, Art tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa, clearly agitated. “Giving the project to Serena was a company decision.” “On one hand, it’s for our wedding.” “On the other, Serena initiated this project. It’s just returning it to its rightful owner.” What pompous nonsense. Since when was stealing someone else’s hard work spun as something so righteous? “Serena started the project, yes, but she made zero progress for months, which is why it was handed to me.” “Now that it’s on the verge of signing, you’re saying it’s hers again? Do you think that’s fair to me?” “So, whose decision was this, really? The company’s, or yours?” His expression grew sheepish. “Aren’t we getting married soon?” “I was worried you’d be too busy with wedding preparations. Someone needs to follow up on the project, right?” “Besides, aren’t you pregnant? You should focus on taking care of yourself.” I scoffed inwardly. He didn’t think about my pregnancy when he was pushing me to drink. But now, when he needed an excuse for his outrageous behavior, he suddenly remembered. What was there to love about a man who didn’t even consider me? If he wanted to be Serena’s desperate lapdog, let him. Better yet, let them chain themselves together and spare everyone else their toxicity. Seeing my face still cold, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Still upset?” “I’m sorry, alright?” “My Abby is the most capable woman in the world, a true power player.” “She doesn’t need my protection at all.” Had he ever protected me? What a grand delusion. I’d thought the project transfer from Serena to me was a sign of his trust, but it was just a trap laid in advance. I was about to push him away when his phone rang. He quickly released me to answer. I heard a woman’s faint, broken sobs from the receiver. I glanced at the caller ID; it read ‘Serena’. I heard him whisper softly, “Don’t cry.” “Okay.” “I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, hastily grabbed his jacket, and moved to leave. As he reached the door, he seemed to remember to tell me. “My sister was bullied by her friends at school. I’m going to check on her.” “Get some rest tonight. Don’t wait up for me.” Before I could even speak, the door slammed shut. I stood rigidly in the living room, unmoving for a long time. His lie was so transparent, so pathetic. Art didn’t return all night. The next day, I saw Serena’s post on social media. [Heartbroken, but at least someone’s here for me…] The accompanying photo showed two hands intertwined, a larger hand cradling a smaller one. I examined it closely; it was Art’s hand. Though he wore no rings or watch, I recognized it immediately. For at least a year, that was the hand I’d held as I drifted to sleep. Serena truly moved on seamlessly. I wondered why Marcus Thorne had broken up with her. The next day, I went to the hospital and had the embryo removed. Before the procedure, I made a request to the doctor. “Doctor, can I have the embryo?” She looked surprised. “It’s already terminated. What do you want it for?” “It will breed bacteria!” I smiled, a cold, empty smile. “To do a DNA test. To see who the father is.” The doctor stared at me, dumbfounded, for a long moment, speechless. I guessed she was thinking, How chaotic must your private life be if you don’t even know who the father of your baby is? I shrugged, uncaring. Afterwards, I dialed Marcus Thorne’s number.

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Everyone always said I didn’t look like my parents. So I secretly took a DNA test, and the report confirmed the truth: I was indeed not their biological daughter. I delusionally burned the report, then secretly hired someone to find the real Davies family daughter. During my senior year’s winter break, I finally found her. At the time, she was working as a server in a bar. 1. Ever since I learned I wasn’t a Davies, my entire demeanor shifted. The once well-behaved, studious student started skipping classes and arguing with teachers. My grades plummeted at a visible speed, from average to the very bottom of the class. My parents didn’t know why, only assuming I was going through a rebellious phase. Every time the school called them in, we’d return home, and the four of us would sit in the living room, a family in bewildered distress. “Chloe,” my mother would say, her face stern, but her voice soft, laced with worry that she might truly upset me. “Tell me what’s going on. Why are you skipping classes?” I’d lower my head, not a shred of my classroom defiance remaining. Seeing my silence, my mother’s voice would gain a little more weight. “Chloe, skipping class is wrong.” I’d mumble in response, my voice weak. “I know.” I knew, but I’d still skip next time. My father would lower his newspaper, glance at my mother, then at me. “As long as you know you’re wrong, that’s what matters. Ready for dinner?” “Eat, eat, eat! Is that all you think about?” My mother’s tone with my father was sharper than with me. I couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. My brother, Ethan, noticed my smile. Fearing Mom would catch it and scold me again, he quickly stood up and pulled me. “Mom, you’ve lectured enough. Chloe and I are going to eat.” I followed him to the dining room obediently. A family intervention, ostensibly for my sake, thus ended. Back then, I was incredibly naive. The DNA test felt like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, a truth I simply couldn’t accept. So I acted out, deliberately making trouble, using every tantrum as a twisted way to confirm my parents’ and brother’s love for me, over and over again. I completely refused to consider: what about the real Davies daughter? While I was brazenly occupying her parents and brother, casually basking in their love as if it were my inherent right, what kind of life was she living? Who was there to love her? I dared not think, yet couldn’t help but wonder. Finally, I stopped running from it. I found old photos of my mother and father from their childhood. From my meager allowance, I set aside a portion to hire a private investigator, tasking him with secretly searching for the real Davies daughter. As for what I would do once he found her, I had no idea. 2. During the winter break of my senior year, the investigator finally called. He said he’d found her. He’d found the real Davies daughter. This time, the answer wasn’t the countless uncertainties of before. It was absolute certainty. My heart pounded violently, unsure if I felt joy or sorrow. I asked the investigator where he’d found her. He told me she was working as a server in a bar. She was my age. I woke up naturally every day, meeting friends to shop. And she was in a bar, earning what, to me, was mere pocket change. After hanging up, he sent me a photo of the real daughter. Even if it was just my imagination, the more I looked, the more she resembled my mother. After much deliberation, I finally made up my mind to go see her. As for what to do after seeing her… I’d figure that out later. After dinner, I called my best friend and also rounded up some of the tough, street-smart friends I’d made since my rebellious phase. We agreed on a place to meet up. My best friend, seeing Jax, the tattooed guy, visibly flinched and hid behind me. I patted her hand reassuringly, explaining that Jax was my friend, and his full-sleeve tattoo just looked a bit intimidating. I introduced my motley crew of friends to my best friend, explaining their colorful appearances. Only then did we head to the location the investigator had given me. Even after years of rebellion, I’d never been to a bar. In my mind, it wasn’t a good place. We found a spot, awkwardly settling into a booth. Good thing I’d brought Jax and the others; they looked perfectly at home here, like seasoned regulars. But how was I supposed to meet the real daughter? That question truly stumped me. Drinks were quickly brought to our table. I carefully scanned the servers, but didn’t see the girl from the photo. I stood up, feigning a trip to the restroom, and began to wander through the bar. It was around seven in the evening, and the bar wasn’t too crowded yet. “One drink for a hundred bucks. Wanna go?” A man’s voice, thick with obvious intoxication, drifted towards me. I instinctively quickened my pace, trying to distance myself from the sound, but my gaze, as if compelled by some unseen force, drifted over. My eyes widened in shock. It was the girl from the photo. Summer, the real Davies daughter, she was right there! 3. The girl stared at the glass of liquor, her eyes etched with struggle and hesitation. Was she really going to drink that for a mere hundred dollars? Was she out of her mind?! By the time I came to my senses, I had already snatched the drink and splashed it across the man’s face. The man glared at me, his eyes blazing. “You little bitch! You dare to splash me?!” I instinctively grabbed the girl’s hand beside me, ready to flee. The man saw my intention and sneered, a cruel twist of his lips. “Stop them.” From somewhere, several burly men materialized, appearing behind us and blocking our escape. I inwardly cursed my impulsiveness. I should have tried to reason with the man, to buy some time. But what could I do? I simply couldn’t stand by and watch him use money to force someone to drink. Suddenly, the girl wrenched her hand free from mine, stepping in front of me, shielding me. “I don’t know her. Let her go.” The man swept all the glasses off the table, sending them crashing to the floor with a series of sharp, shattering sounds. “Go? I’d like to see either of you try to leave today!” I had completely lost my earlier bravado, trembling slightly at his menacing display. My gaze drifted to the thin, fragile shoulders shielding me, and a strange emotion flickered within me. If she knew who I was, would she regret stepping in to protect me today? I stood there, dazed, until a cry of pain erupted from behind me. A wave of relief washed over me: Jax and the others were here. Good thing I’d sent Jax a quick text earlier, telling him our location and to come over. Otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable. Thankfully, the men the drunkard hired were all bark and no bite. They were no match for Jax’s crew and were knocked out cold within a few moves. The tables quickly turned. Jax knelt beside me, his voice laced with concern, “Chloe, are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?” I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, he made to lunge at the man. I quickly grabbed his arm. “That’s enough. Stop hitting him.” If this escalated, it would surely reach my parents or Ethan. Deep down, I wasn’t ready for them to meet the real daughter yet. The man, seeing his men defeated, pulled out his phone, clearly intending to call for more backup. My friends, who were closer, swiftly snatched the phone, twisting his arm behind his back. A man who looked like the bar manager appeared, his face grim. My heart sank. The situation had indeed blown up. 4. To my surprise, Jax gallantly stayed behind to handle the situation. He told his friends to send Summer and me out first. Stepping out of the bar, we finally escaped the deafening music and the stinging smell of stale alcohol. I took a deep breath of fresh, crisp air, feeling as though I could finally breathe again, as if I’d been reborn. Bars, I decided, were truly not good places. I should avoid them in the future. “Thank you for helping me,” the girl said, her voice soft and melodious, a pleasant sound next to my ear. I’d almost forgotten about her. I turned my head to look at her. She was wearing the bar’s standard black uniform dress, her head slightly bowed, a few strands of hair falling around her ears. “It’s nothing. But I probably messed up your job.” “It’s okay. I didn’t want to keep this job anyway.” With that, we exchanged smiles, a strange sense of understanding passing between us. Suddenly, being with her felt incredibly comfortable, easy. “How long have you worked here? Do you want me to come with you to quit?” “Today was my third day. It’s no trouble, I can go by myself.” I insisted on accompanying her to quit. She couldn’t argue with my stubbornness and eventually led me inside. When I saw the small, grateful curve of her lips as she clutched a few hundred dollars in cash, a gnawing sense of guilt began to creep into my chest. I hadn’t just occupied her parents’ and brother’s love; I had stolen her entire prosperous life, the life that should have been hers. If I were her, learning all this, I would surely hate myself to the bone. “Let me treat you to some late-night snacks.” She held up the crisp new bills in her hand, a genuine smile on her face. I was about to refuse when Jax and his crew emerged from the bar. “Chloe, we helped you out so much. Treating us to some late-night snacks isn’t too much to ask, is it?” It was Finn, the skinny guy next to Jax, who spoke. Jax immediately elbowed him, a sharp jab. “You’re certainly not shy, are you?” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Summer’s tension and apprehension. I quickly introduced my friends to her. “This is Jax, Finn, Leo…” The few men, hearing my introductions, looked utterly exasperated. In truth, I didn’t even know their real names. When you’re out on the streets, all that matters are catchy, easy-to-remember nicknames. Why bother with real names? Finn grumbled quietly, sounding disgruntled. “You completely ruined our first impression.” I rolled my eyes. “I recall your first impression was probably made inside the bar.” Their first impression, I thought, probably involved them breaking some bones. They had, after all, knocked the man’s burly friends out cold in just a few moves. “My name is Summer Peterson. Thank you all.” Summer Peterson. It was a beautiful name. “No problem, it was nothing,” Jax mumbled, scratching his head, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Big, tough guy, yet he still blushed around girls. I rolled my eyes, but held my tongue. “No need to thank them. Just thank me. Come on, let’s go get some late-night snacks.” Then, a motley procession of us marched towards a lively, no-frills eatery. Along the way, remembering my best friend whom I’d brought to the bar, I quickly asked Jax about her. If I’d known something like this would happen, I definitely wouldn’t have brought her. “Rocco took her home.” Rocco didn’t say much, but he was reliable. I nodded in relief. “Tell Rocco to come join us for snacks too.” We sat down, just enough to fill the round table comfortably. Mrs. Stone, the owner, approached with a wide smile, handing us two menus, and stood by, waiting for our order. Jax gallantly placed a menu in front of Summer and me. Seeing she didn’t move, I took the menu and asked about her preferences. “Do you eat chives?” She nodded. “And gluten?” She nodded again. “Chicken wings?” She still nodded. I stopped asking her and simply ordered two portions of everything I thought tasted good. Then I let Jax and the others order. Summer clutched the crisp bills nervously in her hand. With just a glance, I understood her worry. “My treat. You keep the money you earned.” She was worried she didn’t have enough. “But you all helped me.” “Then you can treat us next time.” She no longer refused, neatly folding the money and tucking it into her pocket. “If you ask me, nothing beats a good cold beer. All those fancy drinks in the bar are overpriced and don’t even taste that great.” Jax guzzled his beer, his words becoming more boisterous with each swig. I placed some chives and gluten onto Summer’s plate, fearing she’d be too shy to take them herself. Then I heard her polite, repeated thanks, one after another. They never stopped. The more polite she was, the more a bitter ache swelled in my chest. Perhaps, I thought, I should tell her the truth at the right moment. To my parents, to Ethan, and to Summer. And then, I would face the reckoning, though delayed, that was bound to come. 5. They drank quite a bit of beer, but thankfully, they were still coherent. Jax insisted on taking Summer and me home. I suggested we drop Summer off first. So, the group headed towards Summer’s residence. My heart hammered against my ribs, a nervous rhythm. I wondered what her living situation was like. What kind of people were my biological parents? Probably not great, I thought, otherwise why would they make an eighteen-year-old Summer work in a bar to earn money? A pang of sadness tightened my chest. “We’re here,” Summer said softly. I looked up, then froze. Central High. She lived at school? As if sensing my confusion, she quietly explained: “I applied for cold-weather accommodation at the school.” So that was it. “Do you have a phone? Can we exchange contacts?” She shook her head. They didn’t even buy her a phone. That was truly outrageous. “But you can give me your number. I can remember it. When I earn enough money, I’ll treat you all to a meal.” She could remember it? I was a little shocked by her memory, momentarily speechless. Then she seemed to misunderstand, quickly making a promise. “I’ll definitely call you. If I don’t, you can come find me at school. My name is Summer Peterson, and the gate guard knows me too.” “That’s not what I meant,” I said, sighing. I helplessly recited my number to her. We watched her enter the school, and then the group finally dispersed. By the time I got home, it was past ten. Using the faint light filtering in from outside, I eased the door open, trying to be as quiet as a phantom. Then, the living room lights flickered to life with a sudden click. My parents and Ethan were all sitting in the living room, waiting, not yet asleep. 6. I slipped on my slippers, took a deep breath, and walked towards them. My mother’s arms were crossed, her voice cool and sharp. “Where have you been? You actually remembered to come home!” I sneaked a glance at my father and Ethan. My father cleared his throat, but his gaze immediately darted away when it met mine. Ethan adjusted his spectacles, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Clearly, both of them were here to be mere props, leaving me to face the music. I could only stand rigidly, staring at the leg of the sofa, and ad-libbed. “My best friend and I went for a walk. We lost track of time, so we played a bit late.” My voice faded to a whisper by the end. “What’s that smell?” My mother sniffed the air, then her voice suddenly gained volume, a note of accusation. “Alcohol! Chloe Davies, you actually went drinking!” After spending so long in the cold night air, there was still a smell of alcohol? I instinctively raised my sleeve and sniffed. It must have been wine that had accidentally splashed onto my clothes. I hung my head in annoyance. To my mother, this was as good as an admission of guilt. Immediately, she rose to her feet in a huff, raising her hand as if to strike me. My father quickly stood up too, reaching out to block my mother. “Let’s talk this out, dear. Don’t lay hands on the child.” Ethan stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Mom, don’t hit Chloe.” My mother’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “You two, father and son, always protect her. Just let me die from anger, why don’t you?!” With that, she sank back onto the sofa, turning her head away, unwilling to spare me another glance. My father and Ethan kept shooting me meaningful glances, and I nodded, understanding their silent plea. “Mom, I promise I didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol. It just accidentally got on my clothes.” I moved to sit on the left side of the sofa, but my mother immediately spun around, facing right, her back to me. “Mom, I swear, I really didn’t drink. If I drank tonight, then may I be struck by lightning—” Before I could finish the oath, my mother quickly spun around, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Alright, alright, Mom believes you.” I happily leaned closer, but she quickly pulled away. “You reek of it! Go take a shower. If you come home this late again, I’m locking the door, and you can spend the night outside.” Crisis averted. “Okay, I’m going to shower now. Goodnight, Mom, Dad, Ethan!” As I passed the second-floor landing, my shoulders suddenly slumped. The image of my mother’s tear-reddened eyes lingered in my mind, an inescapable image. I thought, Summer would never upset Mom like that. She was polite, she knew how to show gratitude. She was so good, much better than me. A bitter ache swelled in my throat, but I swallowed it down. A selfish thief who stole someone else’s happiness, what right did I have to feel wronged? Lying in bed, I drifted into a fitful sleep, plagued by one nightmare after another. In my dreams, Summer and my parents reunited, a picture of perfect family bliss. In my dreams, Ethan screamed at me, accusing me of stealing Summer’s life. In my dreams, I was cast out of the Davies home, a stranger in their midst. In my dreams, my biological parents forced me to work as a bar server, just to earn money. …

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1 After a natural birth, the doctor was concerned about the baby having hemolytic disease. They paid special attention to his blood type. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, exploded. “Your father-in-law, your husband, and you are all O-negative! How could you give birth to an A-positive child?” Her voice rose to a shriek. “You hussy! Have you been seeing someone else?” My husband, Mark, beat me, punching and kicking, demanding to know who the other man was. But I had never done anything wrong; I refused to confess to something I was innocent of. My baby and I burned alive in a raging inferno. Mark collected a hefty insurance payout, remarried, and lived a life of luxury with his parents. Meanwhile, the relentless gossip from our neighbors caused my own father to suffer a heart attack and be hospitalized. My mother, tending to Dad, uncovered the truth: Mark was actually A-positive! And with my father-in-law, Thomas, being O-negative, it was Eleanor who had been unfaithful! My parents, consumed by rage, took the paternity report to confront Mark’s family. But they were pushed from the 22nd floor, both dying instantly! Standing in line at the Gates of Oblivion, seething with anger, I somehow reincarnated! It was the day of Leo’s birth. I felt as if every bone in my body was shattered from the agony. I was like a drowned rat, pulled from a muddy lake. The day and night of torture finally ended, and I was wheeled out of the delivery room into a recovery ward. Mark’s face was grim, his voice simmering with irritation. “Couldn’t you have just pulled the curtain when they gave you that Pitocin shot? Male nurses and doctors kept coming and going! You were exposed to everyone, completely disregarding my trauma!” As my mind cleared, I looked around. I was certain. I had been reborn. Eleanor, always sharp-tongued and critical, chimed in. “Exactly! Who gives birth as dramatically as you? Back in our day, we had our babies at home and were back doing chores the next day. You’re nothing but trouble! You hired a postpartum nurse for six thousand bucks, and you don’t even earn money! You bought so much formula, too! You don’t know the value of a dollar until you run a household! And you spread your legs and let all those men look! You’ve disgraced the Johnson name!” I forced myself to prop up my weak body. “Mark, give me my phone back. I need to call my parents. I’m going home for my postpartum recovery.” “Hmph, finally, you’re being sensible. It’s settled then. If I give you your phone, you have to get money from your parents to go home for your recovery. Otherwise, our family won’t be able to hold our heads up.” Mark gloated, a smug look on his face. “Seeing as you delivered a son, I’ll tolerate you a bit longer. Just make sure your parents send you back with some of their homemade treats for nourishment!” Whether in my past life or this one, he remained utterly shameless. The day I gave birth, his true colors emerged. All his pretense of being a devoted husband vanished. The family in the next bed couldn’t stand it. “To be fair, your family just has a twisted mindset!” the woman’s husband spoke up. “Your wife just went through hell to give birth, and you all were playing cards outside the delivery room door! I’ve never seen a family treat their daughter-in-law so disrespectfully.” He shook his head. “It’s like you have a throne to inherit! When a human life is at stake, what does gender matter? Whoever ensures the mother and baby are safe, they’re the good doctors and nurses!” The woman in the bed opposite me, a fierce glint in her eye, also chimed in, outraged. “Exactly! You, as a mother-in-law, instead of going home to cook something nice for your daughter-in-law, you’re sitting there discussing…” She trailed off, not finishing her sentence, but I felt an unsettling wave of nausea wash over me. Eleanor, embarrassed, scoffed, “Who hasn’t given birth? She’s just being dramatic!” I scanned the room. “Where’s the postpartum nurse I hired?” Mark stammered, avoiding my gaze, pretending not to know. His shifty-eyed look infuriated me. In my previous life, Eleanor had goaded him into firing the nurse. She’d then feigned kindness, offering to take care of me herself. But she’d secretly given the organic eggs my mother had specially prepared for me to my sister-in-law for her pregnancy. And my Goldie, my Golden Retriever, my beloved companion of seven years? She’d had him slaughtered, cooked into soup, and presented to me. She’d claimed the dog had germs and would prevent her precious grandson from growing big. They’d feasted on my Goldie. And that wasn’t even the end of it. Once she learned I’d given birth to an A-positive child, she’d immediately blown up, instigating Mark to divorce me. My entire postpartum recovery had been a nightmare. The house was freezing, and they wouldn’t even let me turn on the heating. My newborn cried uncontrollably, shivering under the blankets. To torture me further, they even cut the power during the day. I had no hot water for formula. They deliberately made it so difficult that my breast milk dried up. I tried to call my parents for help, but they kept me under strict control, even snatching my phone away. This time, I had to get my phone and send out a cry for help before the doctor came for rounds! “Hurry up! I need to post a picture of the baby on social media!” Mark wasn’t yet thinking of confiscating my phone. He mumbled, “My mom’s right. Giving birth is just something women do. Back then, they had nothing, but they could still recover eating just corn cakes.” 2 “The baby will need a lot of money in the future, so the postpartum nurse won’t be coming. My mom will take care of you instead!” I nodded, my voice firm. “Just give me the phone already!” Mark thought this was my surrender. But the moment I had my phone, I fired off a barrage of messages. To my parents. To my best friend, Pathy. And to the postpartum care agency, asking for my nurse to return. Mark’s and his mother’s incessant nagging simply faded into the background. With all the messages sent, a strange sense of unreality settled over me. I dragged my utterly exhausted body to look at my baby. The pregnant woman in the bed opposite looked at me with profound sympathy. She offered a small smile, but there was also a hint of unspeakable disdain on her plain face. I gave a bitter laugh. Facing a family of wolves, if I were to lash out now, if I made too much of a scene, I would lose even this tiny chance to get help. Later that evening, before the end of their shift, the attending physician, a cultured man named Dr. Peterson, came specifically to check on me. He held the baby’s test report and asked about my blood type. “Mrs. Johnson, we’re about to examine the baby. We’ve noted that you are O-negative and the baby is A-positive, which carries a risk of hemolytic jaundice.” Mark’s eyes widened, and he shrieked, “What’s the baby’s blood type?!” He lunged forward, grabbing Dr. Peterson’s lab coat. “You effing tell me that again?!” he snarled. “What is that child’s blood type?!” Everyone in the room instantly recoiled. Dr. Peterson, composed and unfazed, used a subtle, almost effortless counter-move, like a smooth Tai Chi motion, to loosen Mark’s clumsy grip. “The report shows the baby is A-positive. This situation carries a higher risk of hemolytic jaundice. Please, as family members, monitor the baby’s condition and contact the on-duty doctor or nurse if you have any concerns.” Eleanor interjected, “How is that possible? How can the baby’s blood type be different from his mother’s? And my son and his wife are both O-negative! How could they have an A-positive child? Are you saying you swapped our grandson, giving us a sick child to fool us?” Her shrill voice startled the baby in my arms, making him whimper. Everyone in the room exchanged awkward glances, and even the family in the next bed looked at us with a mixture of pity and discomfort. It was as if I were a poor, unlucky bug, overturned in a grimy gutter. Dr. Peterson maintained his professional composure, patiently explaining, “It’s a normal physiological phenomenon for a pregnant woman and a child to have different blood types. Every step in our hospital is strictly managed. Weren’t you right there when the baby was delivered? All examinations after birth were conducted in the presence of family members. There’s no possibility of such a major medical error.” “Enough, Mom!” Mark suppressed his fury, his clenched fists white at the knuckles. “Don’t make a scene so everyone knows! Aren’t you embarrassed enough?” I held my son, who had peacefully fallen asleep, feeling a profound sense of security. The little guy was a soft, warm bundle; he looked a bit… homely, but I felt an overwhelming surge of love. My gaze, drawn by Mark’s clenched fist, hardened. A tough battle lay ahead. “Dr. Peterson,” I said softly, my voice calm. “My mother-in-law and husband seem to have a lot of concerns about me and the baby. Since everyone is here, perhaps we should just re-test everyone’s blood types?” Dr. Peterson nodded. “That’s certainly an option.” Eleanor’s face instantly darkened. “What nonsense are you talking about? My son has been O-negative his whole life! How could it be anything else? It’s you, you hussy, who’s been seeing someone else!” She looked at me with venom. “I won’t pursue who your lover is in public, but don’t think you’ll get off easy!” She then turned to Mark. “Son, hurry and process her discharge papers! We’ll take her home and teach her a good lesson!” Mark remained silent, gritting his teeth, raising his hand as if to slap me. But the family from the next bed intervened. “Your wife has a point,” the husband said. “If you have doubts, just get it tested here at the hospital and clear it up. The mother and baby both need more rest right now. If you want to argue, take it outside! Don’t disturb my wife’s rest!” Tears welled up in my eyes. Only after giving birth did I truly understand if I had married a man or a devil. The family in the opposite bed was a picture of harmonious support, with both the husband’s and wife’s families taking turns caring for her. Her bedside table was piled high with various tonics and snacks, all to ensure she ate well during her hospital stay. I, on the other hand, sat alone with nothing. My parents had wanted to visit, but Mark, behind my back, had canceled their train tickets. Before I entered the delivery room, he was still playing video games. I’d asked him to buy me a packet of medical-grade maternity pads, which were about eighty dollars, but he complained they were too expensive. He turned around and bought me a ten-dollar pack of cheap toilet paper instead, saving the money to buy himself some gaming skins! I was furious before going into labor, and it was the woman in the next bed who shared two packs of pads with me. I swallowed the bitterness that filled me, insisting, “You suspect I’ve done something to betray you? Then please, show me proof! My prenatal report clearly states I am O-negative. You’ve always thought you were O-negative, but have you ever been tested? Just one test, and we’ll have the report.” 3 The woman in the bed opposite me couldn’t stand it any longer. “I advise you to get tested, seriously. Don’t just jump to conclusions about your wife! Childbirth isn’t easy for women. Who would risk their reputation at a time like this? Your mother, on the other hand, she looks a bit… off. While your wife was giving birth in there, she was out here researching how to prepare some truly abhorrent ‘remedy’… Even if you wanted to consume something vile, it shouldn’t be so disgusting, should it? I’ve seen enough of your family’s antics for one day.” A wave of sickening disgust washed over me, numbing half my body. I looked at Eleanor with eyes that had turned utterly ruthless. No wonder the family in the next bed looked at me with such pity! But I was in a wolf’s den now. Even if I wanted to run away with my child, there were too many obstacles. Sooner or later, I’d make them pay. At the other woman’s words, Thomas, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “Go get tested. Don’t let outsiders laugh at us!” “How can he? Mark has been O-negative since he was a child! How could it be different?” Eleanor shrieked, her face dark. “You can’t just accuse me based on a few words from strangers!” I retorted coldly, “Are you speaking from a guilty conscience, crying wolf? I didn’t say you had been seeing someone. I’m simply stating that now the entire family needs to get their blood types tested together!” My voice grew firm. “If you’re still not satisfied, then we’ll get a DNA test! Your husband, Mark, and my son—all three of them.” “You’ve already spent so much money giving birth, and now you want to spend more on tests? What are you trying to stir up?” Mark demanded, clearly displeased. “Just check out! There’s enough trouble here at the hospital!” I understood then. He didn’t care whether the child was his or not. He was just using it as an excuse to torment me, to wear me down until my child and I were dead. Only then could he legitimately claim the insurance money. But I wanted more than just clarification. “I’ll pay for the DNA test. You won’t have to spend a cent.” Seeing my firm stance, Mark said nothing more. Eleanor’s eyes were red, and she whined, “Just tell us honestly, who is the lover? Is it that scholarly male colleague of yours? Why is the child A-positive?” I said coldly, “You’re crying wolf. I’m not afraid of getting tested or of your gossip. But you’re shouting so loudly, you must have a guilty conscience!” Thomas, who had been listening intently, his expression serious, delivered the final word. “Tomorrow, the whole family will go for blood tests!” Eleanor couldn’t bear it. She threw down her dinner, stomped her foot, and stormed off. “Fine, if you want to waste money on tests, I’ll go home and kill your dog to make soup for your recovery! That fat dog will yield a lot of meat. Otherwise, buying groceries for your confinement would cost even more money!” Eleanor looked triumphant. “If you don’t get tested, I’ll keep your fat dog alive.” I ignored her, lowering my head to comfort my baby. I hoped my best friend, Pathy, would come through for me and save Goldie in time. Mark pulled out his phone, looking busy, his attention elsewhere. “Just wait here. We’ll see what the test results say.” In my last life, I meekly went home with them the next day, leading to various health problems from my weakened state. But this time, I wanted to see how Eleanor would try to explain herself after the test results came out. The next day, Eleanor didn’t show up for the agreed-upon tests. I knew she had a guilty conscience. My best friend, Pathy, texted me: “Don’t worry, sis, Goldie is with me. I promise I’ll feed him until he’s a giant! When I got to your place, your mother-in-law was literally holding a cleaver, ready to kill him! Luckily, my boyfriend, a big burly guy, stopped her, otherwise, Goldie would’ve been gone for good.” I thanked Pathy. In the photo she sent, Goldie cowered at her feet, looking pitiful and soft after his narrow escape, bringing tears to my eyes. My parents rushed to the hospital that very night, having rented a car. They cornered my father-in-law, rambling on. “Richard, we know our daughter. Sarah would never do anything to betray her family!” My mother’s voice grew firm. “Your wife has been causing trouble since the young couple got married, and our family has tolerated it. But this DNA test must be done!” Thomas, being someone who cared deeply about appearances, eventually complied. Under my parents’ persistent urging, Mark and Thomas both submitted to the blood type tests. Eleanor still hadn’t shown her face. I deliberately sent her a voice message: “Mom, I’m innocent. This morning, Mark and Dad both took the blood type test. The results will be out in two hours. You want to come by and see?” She didn’t reply for a long time. I was curious. What would their faces look like when the results came back, confirming Eleanor was the one who had been unfaithful?

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Five years had passed since I, Noah Sterling, returned to my wealthy birth family—and since Lucas Sterling, the “son” who replaced me, shattered my world by crashing a car into my leg. My parents and childhood sweetheart, Seraphina, rushed me to the hospital. When doctors said I might never walk again, Seraphina proposed, vowing to care for me. My parents cut ties with Lucas, urging me to hand over evidence against him so they could “handle it.” Later, they claimed he drowned fleeing justice. I believed them. Until, five years into our marriage, I saw Lucas—alive. He held my son, Leo, sighing at Seraphina: “Without you and Mom and Dad, Noah would’ve sent me to prison. That cripple will never know the boy is mine—or that they swapped his meds for placebos.” Seraphina softened. “Marrying him let me sign affidavits to protect you. As long as you’re safe, it was worth it.” My heart tore open. My own family had conspired against me. If this was their game, I’d simply… quit. … In the hospital lobby, I watched Lucas embrace Leo, Seraphina nestled beside them, a picture of familial bliss. My chest constricted, a hollow ache where my heart should be. I couldn’t breathe. My precious son, the boy I adored, wasn’t mine. My wife, who’d vowed to care for me forever, was in love with the man who’d nearly ended my life. Even my parents, after destroying the evidence, still hadn’t trusted me, pushing Seraphina to marry me so she could always provide Lucas with legal cover. My phone vibrated. It was Mom. “Noah, why didn’t you wait for us to come to the hospital? We’re almost there, where are you?” Her voice was laced with urgent concern, and a wave of searing fury washed over me. I clenched my fist, nails digging deep into my palm. “Oh, I was thinking I couldn’t burden you my whole life, so I decided to come for this rehab session by myself.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “We’re family, darling! How could you ever be a burden? Have you made it inside the hospital yet? We’re on our way!” Every previous physical therapy session, Mom and Dad had always accompanied me. I’d believed it was out of love and concern. Now, I saw the sinister truth beneath the surface. “Yes, I just arrived. Heading into the main lobby on the ground floor.” I steered my wheelchair to a secluded corner, speaking deliberately. Just as I expected, their tone grew frantic. They told me not to go in, that it was too crowded and unsafe, and they were close by, about to find me. I gave a cold affirmation and hung up. Across the lobby, I saw Seraphina answer her phone. Her face instantly tightened with alarm. She muttered a few words to Lucas, then quickly scooped Leo from his arms and exited through a back door. Lucas melted into the crowd, vanishing from sight. A bitter realization dawned on me. That call must have been from Mom and Dad. They hadn’t wanted me to enter because they were afraid I’d see Lucas and Seraphina, not because they were worried about my safety. Shock and anguish surged through me, threatening to drown me. Everyone, everyone, had conspired to deceive me for the sake of Lucas, the man who was truly the culprit! My nails dug so deep they almost tore my palm, the sharp pain a lifeline, pulling me back to a semblance of clarity. Very well. If they wanted a show, I’d give them one. I pulled out my phone, started a voice recording, and steered my wheelchair towards the hospital entrance, meeting my parents as they rushed in. Mom’s eyes were wide with a flicker of panic. “Noah, why did you go in without waiting for us?” Dad, beside her, frowned. “Didn’t we tell you the hospital is busy and you shouldn’t go in alone?” “I waited for ages, then had to use the restroom.” I replied calmly, my expression neutral. Mom’s gaze was probing. “You didn’t… see anyone, did you?” Her nervous expression was a fresh stab to my heart. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to scream, to demand an explanation. Why lie to me? But I knew, deep down, that asking was pointless now. I had already decided to leave them behind. “See anyone? I was in the restroom for a while, too busy to notice.” My unwavering demeanor seemed to reassure them. “Come on, then. We’ll go up with you.” Dad took the handles of my wheelchair, while Mom knelt to secure my face mask. “Flu season is bad, sweetie. You need to protect yourself, or Mom will worry sick if you get ill.” In the past, her worried eyes and caring words would have moved me deeply. But now, I could feel not a trace of genuine love from her. We arrived at the rehabilitation center on the twelfth floor. I lay on the hospital bed, letting the doctor administer the anesthetic. Then, in a haze between sleep and wakefulness, I heard my parents’ conversation with him. “Mr. Sterling’s leg has been neglected for far too long. If he doesn’t have surgery soon, he really will never walk again…” “The previous rehab sessions were all half-measures, and the medication was swapped for placebos, just as you instructed. Mr. Sterling, are you truly going to stand by and watch your son remain crippled at such a young age?” Dad’s voice was stern, cutting. “I paid a fortune to bring you here from overseas, not to listen to your pointless questions. Just do as I say!” Mom chimed in, her voice cold. “So what if he can’t walk again? We can support him for life. Do you, an outsider, need to worry about that? Don’t forget, we’ve been paying your salary for five years. Don’t start thinking you’re actually part of the hospital staff.” The doctor quickly conceded. “No, no, I just meant… Mr. Sterling has been on anesthetics for years. He might develop a tolerance later on. What would we do then?” “That’s your problem to figure out. Just make sure his leg neither recovers nor gets worse. Maintain that balance.” “Yes, sir.” The door opened, and my parents walked out. I lay there, feeling as if I’d been plunged into a freezing hell. They didn’t know I was already developing a tolerance to the anesthetics. I’d heard every word, and every word was now recorded. They had even hired a doctor from overseas and kept him on their payroll for five years, all to deceive me! A sharp, agonizing pain tore through my chest. Tears welled in my eyes, tracing silent paths down my temples. After the ‘treatment’ ended, my parents enthusiastically pushed me back home. Seraphina, who just two hours ago had been engrossed with Lucas at the hospital, now greeted us at the door, apron tied around her waist. “Honey, rehab must have been exhausting, right? I made bone broth for you. Drink it, it’ll help you get better faster!” Her eyes brimmed with tenderness and concern, as if she were still the loving woman who swore to care for me for life. If I hadn’t seen her with Lucas at the hospital, if I hadn’t overheard their conversation, I might have been deeply moved. But now, her smile felt utterly fake. The man she truly loved was the very one who’d shattered my leg. To provide him with legal immunity, she’d willingly sacrificed her own marriage, feigning affection for me. I glanced at Leo, who was playing on the sofa with a tablet. It had taken me so many years to realize he had never once called me “Dad.” Seraphina had always brushed it off, claiming he was too young, that it was normal for him not to say it yet, telling me not to overthink things. Now, I knew. It was simply because I wasn’t his father. During dinner, Mom’s eyes suddenly turned red as she stared at the dishes on the table, and she began to cry softly. Seraphina quickly put down her utensils and asked what was wrong, while Dad sighed, gently patting her back. “Your mom probably saw Lucas’s favorite dishes. She misses him.” He paused, his voice heavy. “That boy, even though he did something wrong, he was still our child for over a decade. He didn’t deserve to die like that…” I sensed they were watching my expression, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. Didn’t deserve to die? So, it’s okay to sacrifice me for him? Is this my fate? “Honey, it’s been five years,” Seraphina said, her voice gentle. “Lucas was only twenty back then. Maybe he just acted rashly. We grew up together; he always had a bit of an extreme personality. He must have felt you were trying to steal everything from him.” Her eyes were a little hesitant. “His… anniversary is in five days. I know you don’t want to go. Can Dad, Mom, and I go pay our respects for him?” “Hmm. Go ahead. After all, he was in this house longer than I was. It’s natural for you to have feelings for him.” I replied, my voice flat. Seraphina visibly relaxed, her tone growing even softer. “Honey, I knew you were kind-hearted. You wouldn’t hold a grudge against your… late brother.” Mom wiped her tears. “My good son. It’s true, my own child is more understanding.” I bowed my head into my bowl, letting tears drip silently. So, they knew I was their biological child all along. My stomach clenched in a painful knot, and I excused myself, claiming to feel unwell, and retreated to my room. Seraphina followed shortly after, carrying a cup of stomach medicine she’d prepared, her eyes filled with worry and sympathy. Seeing that I didn’t want to talk, she silently brought in warm water and gently wiped my face with a cloth. For the ten years since I’d been brought back home, her eyes had only been on me. Even when Lucas had confessed his feelings to her, he’d only been met with her cold rejection. Now, I finally understood. She didn’t love me; she simply wanted to marry the future heir of Sterling Enterprises. Her love and her marriage were two entirely separate things. Late that night, after Seraphina and Leo had fallen asleep, I quietly got up and picked up her phone from her bedside table. The password was Leo’s birthday. The top contact in her WeChat was me, followed by Mom and Dad. I scrolled through, finding no anomalies. It wasn’t until I tried switching accounts that I discovered Seraphina had a second, private account. The chat history on that account was with only one person: Lucas. Seraphina, it’s been five years. How much longer do I have to hide? He doesn’t have any evidence of me hitting him, and he’s a cripple now, utterly harmless. Can you bear to keep our son separated from his father any longer? Seraphina’s replies were reassuring: Mom, Dad, and I are already planning our next move. Don’t rush things. I discovered that Lucas had returned to the country a few days prior. They had arranged a new identity for him and even registered a real estate company in his name. In five days, it would be the company’s grand opening. My fingers trembled as I clicked through his social media feed. My heart turned colder with each photo. Over the past five years, Lucas had been living a lavish life overseas, funded entirely by my parents. He wore luxury brands from Sterling Enterprises, lived in lavish villas owned by the company abroad. Seraphina had used ‘business trips’ as an excuse to fly out and be with him. Even my parents were beaming in the photos, their smiles wide and genuine. At that moment, I finally understood: they were the real family. I fought back the burning tears in my eyes, snapping screenshots of all the evidence. Then, I switched back to her main account. That’s when I noticed Seraphina had changed her personal status. It used to be just one word: [Waiting]. I’d asked her what it meant, and she’d smiled, saying she was waiting for my leg to heal. Now, it read: [He’s Returned]. I finally understood. “Waiting” meant waiting for Lucas to come back. “He’s Returned” meant Lucas was back for good. I placed the phone back on her bedside table, then went out to the balcony and made a call. “Hello, I’d like to book a flight for five days from now, heading overseas.” Five days. Enough time to bid farewell to five years of fake love. Back in bed, I lay awake through the night. The next day, during lunch, my phone screen lit up. Seraphina, glancing over, instantly blanched. “Honey, what card are you applying to cancel?” I calmly pressed the screen off. “My bank card is expiring. I just scheduled a replacement.” She seemed to want to say more, but her phone rang. “Honey, something’s come up at the company. I need to take care of it. I won’t be able to join you for lunch.” I nodded. As she left, Leo insisted on going with her. Mom and Dad stepped in, promising to take him out to play, and Seraphina quickly departed. I was finally alone in the house. Just as I was about to leave, a friend request popped up on my phone. Noah, you heard everything at the hospital yesterday, didn’t you? It was Lucas. My wife, my son… they’re all mine. Even your real parents, once they heard the doctors speculate you might not be able to have children after the accident, immediately decided to protect me. They even pushed Seraphina to be with me, to give me children. We’re the legitimate couple. You’re just a clown. They even opened a company for me. The grand opening is in five days. I bet they’re keeping that from you too, right? I really regret not crippling you sooner. All of this should have been mine ages ago. Each word was a razor-sharp blade, twisting in my heart. So that was why. That was why my parents had chosen to protect him. That was why Seraphina had willingly borne him a son. I took screenshots of all the messages, then found my marriage certificate with Seraphina. Beneath her bedside table, I discovered the affidavit. Clenching these documents, I went to see a lawyer. The lawyer informed me that chat records couldn’t be considered definitive evidence, and a letter of understanding provided by a family member held legal weight. I asked him to draft divorce papers, but he frowned, telling me my marriage certificate was fake. The words struck me like lightning. My heart plummeted into an abyss of despair. Lucas hadn’t been wrong. I was nothing but a fool, a clown in their elaborate circus. The lawyer’s eyes, however, lit up. If the marriage certificate was fake, then Seraphina’s affidavit was legally invalid. It amounted to fraud and obstruction of justice! I was overwhelmed with gratitude, begging him to help me draft a complaint. After leaving the law firm, I took a taxi to another hospital for a full medical examination. When the doctor told me there was still hope for my leg, tears of joy welled in my eyes. He explained that the old car accident had caused a blockage in my vas deferens, preventing me from having children, but it could be corrected with surgery. As for my leg fracture, since it hadn’t worsened over five years, I could regain the ability to walk with prompt surgery.

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The entire Stellar Federation knew it: Marshal Orion Thorne was notoriously brutal in bed—tireless, inventive, and utterly uninhibited. As his designated Psychic Stabilizer, I had replaced my organic limbs with mechanical prosthetics, transforming myself into the most “durable” woman by his side. One day, after my fourth mechanical arm had been twisted clean off, I went to the cybernetics lab for repairs. There, I saw Orion, his touch tender, gently kissing a fragile, un-augmented Human. His adjutant, startled, jokingly asked him, “Can’t you control your rampaging psychic energy? Why are you so rough with Seraphina Vance, yet so gentle with her?” Orion’s eyes were cold, dismissive. “I have to release it somehow. Lily is too delicate; I’m afraid of hurting her.” My heart shattered. Tears streamed down my face, hot and stinging. I pulled out my comm-unit and dialed a professor at the Federation’s Cybernetic Institute. “I agree to the body decomposition and consciousness upload to the Cloud. Come for me in three days.” 1 “Ms. Vance, have you chosen your new mechanical arm?” The gentle voice of the cybernetics salesperson broke through my daze, snapping me back to the present. I painfully pulled my gaze away from the sight of them, my voice hoarse and raw. “Just a standard model.” Before, to ensure Orion’s utmost pleasure, I always chose the most advanced, top-tier components for my replacements, then had them covered with a layer of premium bio-synthetic skin, indistinguishable from real flesh. But now, I had no intention of catering to him anymore. From the core-chamber behind me, Lily Carmichael’s saccharine voice floated out. “Orion, darling, you really shouldn’t! Such an expensive core, and you just bought it like that!” She giggled. “I only said it looked pretty; it’s not like I’d ever use it.” A core was what powered a mechanical prosthetic. I had struggled for a long time, trying to work up the courage to ask Orion about getting a better core for myself, just to lighten the burden of repair costs. But Orion, his back to me as he dressed, casually tossed a cheap, obsolete core my way. “You don’t need anything expensive. You’re always replacing your prosthetics anyway.” At the time, I thought his logic made sense. After all, one good core could buy thousands of prosthetic parts. But today, I knew the truth: it wasn’t that I didn’t need a good one. It was that I wasn’t worthy of one. My chest ached, a swollen, throbbing pain. I paid the bill, a dazed emptiness consuming me, and stumbled out the door. Repairs here were exorbitantly expensive; I always installed them myself once I got home. Late that night, Orion returned. He hung up his coat, then strode over and pulled me into his arms. “Seraphina,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “look what I brought you.” A dull gray core was pressed into my palm. Orion waited for me to jump up in surprise, to lean in and kiss his cheek. But I merely managed a stiff, strained smile, then gently refused. “I don’t need such a fine core.” This core, I knew, was nothing more than a complimentary gift that came with Lily’s purchase. Earlier, while scrolling through my datapad, I’d seen Lily’s shared life photos. That astronomical “pigeon blood” crimson core had been polished down, its essence removed, leaving only the useless parts, which she wore as a necklace around her neck. Orion’s brows instantly furrowed. He scrutinized me, his gaze sharp. “What are you trying to pull?” he demanded. “Didn’t you say before you wanted a good core? Now that I’ve given it to you, you’re giving me attitude?” Orion Thorne was the Federation’s Marshal. Even the supreme ruler of the Imperial Senate had to defer to him; no one dared defy him. What’s more, his psychic energy was notoriously unstable, liable to erupt at any moment. What I was doing was pure suicide. He grabbed my wrist, his lips twisting into a cold sneer. “I think I’ve given you too much leeway lately.” His voice dropped, laced with menace. “Strip. Now. And kneel.” 2 This was his usual method of humiliating me. Before, I always worried about angering him, afraid he would cast me aside. No matter how degrading his commands, I would obey. But this time, I acted out of character. I met his dark, brooding eyes, and softly, calmly, said, “Let’s end this, Marshal.” I never called him Marshal. Only Orion. I used that intimate address, hoping to pull us closer, to cling to that pathetic flicker of hope in my heart. Orion never corrected me, tacitly allowing my transgression. I was naive enough to believe I was special. The truth, however, proved how deluded I had been. The woman he truly cherished, the one he held in the palm of his hand, was Lily Carmichael. A storm brewed in Orion’s obsidian eyes. He gripped my throat, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll give you one more chance, Seraphina Vance.” His grip tightened. “What did you just say?” This was the prelude to his rage. I could already feel the agitated hum of his psychic energy, potent enough to crush me in the next second. But I offered a faint, sardonic smile. “Marshal, wouldn’t Ms. Carmichael mind you playing so… rough with me?” The mere mention of Lily’s name caused Orion’s expression to change instantly. His piercing gaze seemed to bore through my heart. “Don’t test my limits,” he snarled. Lily Carmichael was his limit. I was merely a tool for his release. I laughed at myself, a bitter, self-deprecating sound, but the tears, unbidden, streamed down my face. “I wouldn’t dare, Marshal.” Seeing my tears, Orion instinctively loosened his grip. He rubbed his throbbing temples, his brows furrowed. “Lily knows you’re my Stabilizer; she won’t mind. And when we’re married, you can still live here.” He never considered my wishes, dictating my entire existence. I had utterly had enough of this life. Fortunately, in three days, I would be free of it all. Orion seemed to think I had conceded. He reached out and ruffled my long hair. “Good girl. Go take a shower. Tonight, I’ll take you to see the Starglow Blossoms.” They were a critically endangered species across the entire galaxy, a symbol of unwavering love. Five years ago, Orion had brought one back for me. I treated it as a token of his affection, tending to it meticulously for a long time. When the flower withered, I was heartbroken for what felt like an eternity. Looking back now, I realized there was never any love there to begin with, which is why it never truly flourished. “I…” I wanted to say I didn’t want to go, but Orion’s sharp gaze pinned the words in my throat. Never mind. I couldn’t provoke him. If Orion suspected anything, a single command from him could make the Cybernetic Institute refuse my consciousness upload. Like a zombie, I followed him onto his private sky-jet. The landscape outside, from bustling metropolises to desolate wastelands, blurred past. My hands clenched tighter and tighter, afraid Orion was tricking me, leading me to my death. “Don’t be nervous. We’ll be there soon.” Orion’s voice was deep, sensual, carrying a hint of casual indifference. My choked breath slowly returned to a normal rhythm. He was right. If he wanted to kill me, he could do it in public, and no one would dare question him. In the distance, faint blue lights appeared, growing in number as we drew closer. I hadn’t expected so many. My eyes widened, a flicker of anticipation, however faint, stirring in my heart. Just then, Orion’s comm-unit chimed. Lily Carmichael’s helpless voice drifted out. “Orion, darling, I can’t sleep. I feel so awful.” She whined, “Come tell me a bedtime story.” 3 My heart plummeted, crushing all hope. All my expectations dissolved into nothingness. Orion had actually given her unrestricted access to his comms. No matter if he was in a top-secret meeting or on a critical mission, Lily Carmichael’s messages would play directly. My communications, however, were always on ‘do not disturb.’ My heart felt gripped again, each beat a thunderous ache. Even though I had decided to let go and leave, I couldn’t stop the anguish, pitying my past self. Orion slammed on the brakes after hearing the message, abruptly changing course. The Starglow Blossoms receded into the distance. As we passed a dark, barren planet, Orion opened the sky-jet’s hatch, his voice chillingly detached. “Get out.” I thought I misheard, turning my head stiffly to stare at him. This was a dangerous zone; space pirates were known to frequent these parts. But Orion, impatient, simply urged me again. “Lily always has trouble sleeping. I need to get her a companion droid.” The private sky-jet only had two seats. He wanted to buy Lily a droid, so I had to get off. I was abandoned on the desolate planet, my heart as dead and still as the world around me. Orion left without a backward glance, even accelerating to full thrust. My fingers trembled as I fumbled blindly with my comm-unit, trying to find a flight that could pick me up from here. I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until my comm-unit finally registered a response. I clasped my hands together, silently praying I would be safe until the flight arrived. “WHOOSH!” The deafening roar of a starship ripped through the silence of the void. I looked towards the vessel approaching in the distance, my face turning ashen. Space pirates! Ignoring everything else, I frantically initiated a video call to Orion. A regular message wouldn’t get through to him. The video connected, and I choked out a desperate plea for help. “Save me! There are space pirates here!” Orion’s voice, thick with suppressed rage, hammered against my heartstrings, shattering them further. “Seraphina Vance! I just got Lily to sleep! Is it really necessary to invent such a ridiculous lie just because I left you on another planet for a bit?! If you wake Lily, I swear I won’t let you get away with it!” He cruelly cut the video feed, convinced I was lying. The space pirates had intercepted the comms signal and located me. I was dragged onto their ship like a dead dog. “Isn’t this Orion Thorne’s Psychic Stabilizer?” A space pirate sneered, lifting my chin with the toe of his boot. “Stabilizer? She’s just a plaything for his release, isn’t she!” “You’re right! Probably already broken by Orion, too!” “Orion Thorne’s woman… just thinking about it gets me excited, hahahaha!” The inhumane torment lasted through the night and continued into the next day. My torso convulsed, my mechanical arms and legs completely ruined. I lay on the deck, my eyes empty, filled with utter despair. Around noon, the pirate captain’s comm-unit buzzed. Lily Carmichael’s delicate voice drifted from it: “Is she dead yet?” 4 I struggled to open my blood-crusted eyes, glaring at Lily Carmichael’s projection on the comm-unit, my heart seething with hatred. The pirate captain, confused, asked her, “No, she’s not dead. But wouldn’t it be better if she was?” Lily sneered, her voice turning venomous and chilling. “Sometimes, being alive can be far more painful than being dead. In a bit, just dump her back. Make sure it’s a big, noticeable commotion. I want to see what face she’ll have left to cling to Orion.” I had already decided to leave! Why were they doing this to me?! My throat was shattered, I could only scream and wail internally. My still-intact left eye, a mechanical one, stared blankly ahead, and I heard the faint whirring of gears grinding. A robotic voice chimed: [Recording complete.] No one knew that my left eye was a prosthetic. When I decomposed my body tomorrow night and uploaded my consciousness to the Cloud, Orion would receive this perfect gift. Lily Carmichael was so deeply entangled with these space pirates; if Orion continued to favor and protect her, it would be an act of treason and colluding with enemies! Even as Marshal, he would face the wrath of the entire Federation, eventually being annihilated by their combined forces. The space pirates, following Lily’s instructions, dumped me onto the busiest street of the Federation’s capital planet. In an instant, I became the focus of every passerby’s horrified attention. “Oh my God, so much blood!” “All her limbs are broken, and her right eye is gone. How horrifying!” Everyone exclaimed in shock. Suddenly, someone shrieked, “Look at her lower half!” A new wave of horrified whispers washed over me. I trembled with fear, desperate to hide, but with only my torso intact, I couldn’t move an inch. Someone recognized me, and many unpleasant words hung unspoken in the air, only making the situation more agonizing. Orion, upon receiving the news, arrived with astonishing speed. The surrounding crowds didn’t even need his troops to forcefully disperse them; they scattered like startled birds. This man, accustomed to battle and bloodshed, now trembled before my broken, mutilated body. His eyes reddened, veins throbbing at his temples. “Seraphina…” I remained utterly unresponsive, completely still. Orion, despite his severe germophobia, personally bent down and lifted me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I never imagined it would be like this. I sent people to look for you, but they only found your comm-unit.” No matter what he said, I remained silent. He thought I was angry with him, blaming him. For the first time, he didn’t scold me for being unreasonable. It was only when he brought me to the Starfall Hospital that they discovered my larynx had been crushed; I simply couldn’t speak. He furiously ordered a relentless hunt for the space pirates. Then, in a rare display of tenderness, he spoke to me. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll stay with you always. I’ll get you the most expensive mechanical prosthetics, the finest core.” I finally reacted, my eye twitching. What’s the use of that? I thought. I won’t need a body anymore soon anyway. Suddenly, a knock echoed on the ward door. It was Orion’s adjutant. With Orion’s permission, he pushed the door open and whispered to him, “Marshal, Ms. Carmichael is here.” Orion abruptly stood up, striding quickly out of the ward. But it was too late; he collided head-on with Lily Carmichael. “Lily, why are you here? It’s all bloodstained in here.” Lily’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. “I came to apologize to Seraphina, boo-hoo.” She sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me a bedtime story just because I couldn’t sleep.”

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I am an NPC in a horror game. Beautiful, but utterly useless—nothing more than a background prop. When the new batch of players arrived, I waited with eager anticipation for them to be picked off by the horrors of this place. But then, a message appeared before my eyes. [The little fool is still smiling. She has no idea these three players are monsters. They tear dungeons apart for fun. They’re going to have a field day with her, hehe… The best part is the sandwich.] A jolt of fear shot through me. I belatedly registered the three pairs of hungry, predatory eyes fixed on me. But it was too late. I was already trapped between them. 1 “Time for your shot.” At the stroke of midnight, I pushed my little cart into room 401. Inside were an old man and a girl who looked to be in her early twenties. The old man’s face was a blank mask, his body withered and frail. I slid the needle into his skin and gave him his pills. He didn’t react at all. After him, it was the girl’s turn. The sight of the cold syringe in my hand drained the color from her face. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. With a trembling hand, she pulled a knife from her pocket, her voice shaking. “Get away from me! I’m not taking it!” I stared at her in silence for a moment, then turned and pushed my cart out of the room. Take it or don’t. It’s not my funeral. This new batch of players was painfully stupid. I’d be surprised if they lasted three days. 2 Every room was the same: one NPC and one player. The players in 402 and 403 were more compliant. Scared, but they let me give them their shots. I was in a great mood, humming a little tune as I kicked open the door to room 404. But the scene inside froze the smile on my face. The NPC from room 404… was a mangled heap on the floor, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. He’d been dead for hours. And the one responsible, the male player from 404, was sitting casually on the bed, his narrow, sinister eyes fixed on me, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Nurse, isn’t it time for my shot?” His voice was a low, magnetic drawl, laced with amusement. A shiver ran down my spine, my vision swimming. This was a real pro. Vicious. He’d only been in the game for one day and had already taken out his roommate. He wouldn’t just kill me too, would he? My hand, holding the syringe, was trembling. My legs felt like jelly as I approached the man on the bed. A glance at his chart confirmed my fears. Kane—Severe Mania. Extremely Dangerous. “Sleeve up, please,” I said, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. Kane raised an eyebrow, studied me for a moment, then obediently rolled up the sleeve of his striped patient gown. His forearm was well-defined, the muscles corded with thick veins. My legs nearly gave out again. He could probably snap my neck with one hand. But what choice did I have? I was a nurse in this asylum. If I refused to give a patient their shot, I’d be erased. I steeled myself and brought the syringe forward, placing one hand on his arm. It was scorching hot. Was a normal person’s body temperature this high? Had he merged with some kind of mutated monster in this dungeon? “Is something wrong, Nurse?” the man asked from above, his voice dripping with mock concern. I tried to ignore the heat radiating from him, a heat that felt like it could melt me. I swallowed hard. “Nothing.” I tried to push the needle into his skin. But his arm was as hard as a rock. The needle bent, but it wouldn’t go in. Had he merged with some kind of stone monster? My vision went black for a second. “Mr. Kane, could you please relax your arm? It’s too hard, I can’t get the needle in.” Kane raised an eyebrow, his tone deliberately teasing. “It’s hard?” I nodded. “Yes!” At that, he relaxed his arm slightly. The needle finally broke the skin, and I was able to administer the shot. I let out a shaky breath, nearly collapsing in relief. 3 But my relief was short-lived. A pair of long, strong hands suddenly clamped around the back of my neck, yanking me backward. My back slammed against Kane’s chest. His searing body heat and the powerful, rapid beat of his heart thudded against me through my uniform, as if we were being fused together. The heat was so intense I almost screamed. My face went bone-white. So this was it. He was done playing games. He was going to kill me. For a top-tier player like him, killing an NPC like me was as easy as squishing a bug. A powerful surge of survival instinct kicked in. Trembling, I held out a small, pink, rubber-band-like item, my voice a choked sob. “Mr. Kane, this is for you. Please don’t kill me. I’ll tell you the clue to clear the dungeon.” [Nurse’s Hair Tie: A hair tie often used by the beautiful but ditzy nurse. When placed on any object, it increases its strength by 20%.] Kane smiled, a slow, meaningful smile. “A nice little toy.” He released me, almost reluctantly, and pocketed the hair tie. “The clue.” Having escaped death, I slumped to the floor, my head bowed. “There’s a door in the morgue,” I mumbled. “It’s the way out.” 4 At my words, a derisive smile touched Kane’s lips. His sharp eyes bored into me, as if he could see right through my lie. “Alright then,” he said lazily. “Lead the way, Nurse.” My heart sank. I couldn’t go. That was a lie. The morgue was a dead end. If I went, I would die. I feigned composure, backing away slowly. “I can’t. I have to give the other patients their shots.” But I quickly ran out of room, my back hitting a hard, unyielding chest. The man behind me wrapped a large hand around my waist, trapping me in his embrace. His voice was a cold, low warning. “Lead the way.” Help me! I’m actually going to cry. When did another person get in the room? I hadn’t heard a thing. Kane clicked his tongue, his eyes flicking impatiently to the man behind me. “Damian, don’t scare her.” The man behind me grunted in displeasure, but the grip on my arm loosened slightly. It still hurt, though! I gritted my teeth, my mind racing, plotting how to lure these two bastards into the morgue and let the monsters finish them off. “If you would be so kind, Nurse,” Kane said, getting up and walking toward me. His tall frame, nearly six-foot-three, completely overshadowed me. He and Damian had me pinned between them. Sob… It seemed I didn’t have a choice. 5 Kane on my left, Damian on my right. One hot, one cold, they squeezed me between them. The faint, metallic smell of blood filled my nostrils. My body was rigid with fear. Ding. The elevator doors opened. The entire second basement level was the morgue. Under the dim, eerie lights, rows and rows of bodies lay under white sheets. I swallowed hard, my voice trembling with nerves. “Gentlemen… this is the morgue. The clue to leave the dungeon is in here. Can I go now?” Kane crossed his arms, looking down at me. “Are you sure there aren’t any traps in here, Nurse?” My heart skipped a beat. I shook my head quickly. “It’s just bodies in here. It’s not dangerous!” The more I said it, the less I believed it myself. This was a horror game dungeon. How could the morgue not be dangerous? The smile on Kane’s face deepened. Damian was silent, his dark, inscrutable eyes fixed on me, revealing nothing. Just when I thought my lie had been exposed, they exchanged a look and, without hesitation, stepped out of the elevator and into the gloomy morgue. I scrambled to hit the “close door” button. In the final second before the doors slid shut, the bodies in the morgue shot up, tearing off their white sheets and letting out bloodcurdling screams as they swarmed toward the two men. Kane turned back, a cold smile on his lips, his voice a chilling whisper. “See you tomorrow, Nurse.” 6 Hehe. See you tomorrow? See you in hell. I’d heard from other NPCs. The monsters in the morgue weren’t strong, but their bites were laced with a deadly corpse poison. Once infected, even the strongest players would be dead within half an hour. The thought of sacrificing my precious little hair tie just to save my own skin… I rubbed my bruised waist, gritting my teeth, and pressed the button for the fifth floor. I’d gotten rid of two powerful players for the Director. I even sacrificed an item. He had to compensate me for that, right? 7 I’d heard the Director of the asylum used to be a player himself. He’d taken out the final boss in this very dungeon, and somehow, in the process, had become the new Director. I didn’t care about any of that. I got to the fifth floor and knocked on his office door. “Director, it’s me, Lily.” A few seconds later, the door clicked open. I smiled and pushed it open. The light in the office was a cold, dim white. The Director, half his face hidden by a mask, sat on a black leather sofa, his long legs crossed, his pale fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the armrest. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse, and the eye behind the mask was as cold and predatory as a snake’s. I ignored all of that, scurrying over to his feet and hugging his leg, pouting. “Director, Lily got rid of two really tough players for you, and I lost my little hair tie.” His cold gaze fell on my neck. He reached out, his pale fingertips tracing a line across my skin. “Did they touch you?” I pouted and nodded. This was a work-related injury! The thought of that poor NPC in room 404, the one Kane had killed so brutally, sent a shiver down my spine. I could have been next! At that thought, I hugged the Director’s leg tighter, my voice a whiny, tearful wail. “Director, sir, they almost killed Lily this time! You have to give me a raise, or at least some better items.” I was confident in my ability to charm anyone with a little bit of a damsel-in-distress act. But the Director just sat there, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me, completely unmoved. My act deflated. A thought suddenly struck me. I remembered another NPC telling me that the Director had been a deeply romantic man in his past life. He had died saving his girlfriend. Oh god, how was my memory getting so bad? I’d forgotten my entire past life, but how could I forget that the Director had a girlfriend? I quickly let go of his leg and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Director! I’ll go clean the rooms right now!” The Director grunted and handed me a set of clothes. “This is for you.” [Pink Nurse’s Uniform: A new uniform from the Director! Wear it to share a sensory link with him! In other words, when you’re in danger, the Director will feel it too~] My eyes widened as I stared at the uniform in my hands. The function was… misleading. A sensory link with the Director. From what I knew, countless NPCs and players had died at his hands. You couldn’t pay me to share a sensory link with a psycho like him. My lip twitched. I hesitated for a long moment before handing the uniform back. “Director, sir, I don’t think this item is very useful for me. Could I maybe have something else?” The Director stared at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Go change.” Me: Huh? Was this right? I looked at the thin, pink fabric in my hands, feeling truly lost for the first time. Sensing my hesitation and reluctance, the Director pressed his lips together. “It’s a new item I acquired. I need someone to test its effects.” Oh… so I was just a guinea pig. I managed a nod and went into the adjoining break room to change. 8 “Director, sir, it’s a little small.” I came out of the break room, pouting, and self-consciously tugged at the fabric that was squeezing my chest. This stupid uniform was going to suffocate me. The Director narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on me. The white of his knuckles showed how tense he was. It was probably because of the sensory link. He must have been just as uncomfortable as I was. After a long moment, he swallowed, his voice hoarse. “Come here.” He gestured for me to sit next to him. I tugged at my uniform, pouting, and sat down. “Director, when can I take this off? Your item is killing me.” He slowly pulled a small whip from a drawer. “Lie down,” he said calmly. Me: ? What did he mean? Seeing my confused expression, he explained, “The sensory link only works when you’re hurt.” In other words, I had to feel pain… for him to feel it. The Director… was going to whip me?! In that instant, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I remembered how, when he first took over, he had killed every single NPC in the asylum who dared to defy him. Ruthless, dark, twisted—those words were made for him. If I didn’t do what he said, he would probably kill me too. Sigh… What’s a little humiliation when your life is on the line? I resigned myself to my fate and lay down on the black leather sofa, my face a mask of misery. “Go ahead, Director. But don’t hit me too hard. If you kill me, you won’t have any other little nurses who listen to you like I do.” With my back to him, I didn’t see the slow curve of his lips. The whip landed on my backside, not too hard, not too soft. I heard his voice, strained and hoarse. “My name is Cedric,” he said. “Forget it again… and you die.” 9 I ran out of the Director’s office, my face burning. I thought he was going to hit me really hard, but it just felt like he was scratching an itch. Hehe. But he was still a total psycho. Hitting me was one thing, but what was that about an armpit… He wanted me to smell his armpit! Pure humiliation! At least the dead-eyed bastard had a conscience. He compensated me with a whole pile of new items. Back in my little room, I spread my new loot out on the bed. [Beauty Pill: Can be consumed to eliminate acne, blackheads, and other blemishes.] [White and Purple Gradient Seashell Dress: A dress from the human world. Wearing it has a chance to increase your beauty stat by 10%.] My eyes widened in disbelief. I stared at the pile of useless junk on my bed. My body trembled with rage. Stupid Director! Useless Director! I wasted all that breath for this? A bunch of items that were completely useless in a horror game? My gaze fell on the last item. [Prophetic Message: Receive one hint about the future.] My eyes lit up. I used it without hesitation. Suddenly, a message full of pink, bubbly hearts appeared before me. [The little fool is still smiling~ These three men are monsters. They tear dungeons apart for fun. They’re going to have a field day with her, hehe… The best part is the sandwich.] 10 What was this garbage? I didn’t understand a single word. A message I couldn’t understand was as good as nothing. I rolled my eyes and went to sleep. The next day, I got a new mission. Disguise myself as a human and go undercover among the players. At night, I had to give them their shots and pills. During the day, I had to pretend to be a player and search for clues with them? This was ridiculous. They were working me like a dog. I cursed the Director and all his ancestors in my head. Then, I resigned myself to my fate, took a pill that changed my appearance, put on a striped patient gown, and went to the fourth floor to meet up with the other players. “Aaaahhhh—” A man’s scream echoed through the hallway. The remaining four players rushed over, crowding around the door to room 401. The female player who had refused her shot last night was dead on the bed, her eyes bulging, her death a gruesome sight. “There were nine of us… and it’s only the first day, and there are only six of us left! Three people died in one night! How are we supposed to survive for two more days?” The players’ faces were ashen, their spirits crushed. Everyone knew the success rate for the Asylum dungeon was incredibly low. Almost no one made it out alive. Even a pro like the Director had died here. They were doomed. “What’s all the screaming about so early in the morning? Is everyone dead already?” A lazy, magnetic voice cut through the despair. Kane stood at the corner of the hallway, hands in his pockets, a playful smile on his lips. Beside him, Damian held a blood-soaked longsword, his cold eyes, shadowed by his messy hair, sweeping over the group. My breath hitched, the hairs on my arms standing on end. They were alive! They had been swarmed by a hundred corpses in the morgue, and they had fought their way out. Kane looked completely unscathed, as if he’d just been for a stroll. Damian, on the other hand, radiated a murderous aura. He was definitely going to kill me. Tonight, when I went to give them their shots, they were going to kill me for sure. But I quickly calmed down and came up with a brilliant plan. “You guys… are you players too?” The other players, startled by the sudden appearance of Kane and Damian, were clearly on guard. “What else?” Kane’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Got tricked by an NPC and sent to the morgue last night. Just got out.” The players’ eyes fell on the bloody sword in Damian’s hand, and a collective shiver ran through them. These two were brave. On the first night of the game, instead of staying safely in their rooms, they’d gone looking for trouble in the morgue. “Did you find any clues in there?” Under the hopeful gazes of the other players, Damian frowned, his voice cold. “No.” Of course not. There were only monsters in the morgue. It was a death trap. But the other players didn’t believe him. High risk, high reward. A place as dangerous as the morgue had to have a clue. These two were just being selfish. “We’re all players! Why are you being so selfish? You won’t even share a single clue!” “This is a team-based dungeon! You have to think about the group!” The moral high ground. Classic. Damian was clearly out of patience. His cold eyes shot to the most vocal players, and he slowly drew his sword. That shut them up. They quickly changed the subject, suggesting they split up to find clues.

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I was on my way home from a late shift when I stumbled upon a livestream of myself. In the video, I was walking alone down a dimly lit street. The title read: [Randomly Escorting a Stranger Home] But the live comments were a cesspool of filth. [Look at the way she walks. I bet she’s going commando. Somebody toss a coin and see if she picks it up.] [Walking alone this late? Gotta be a hooker. Streamer, ask her how much for the night.] [What a coincidence. I just had her tonight.] [Streamer, get a shot of her apartment number when she gets home. Any of you guys wanna form a party?] Watching the gift animations explode across the screen, the streamer was practically vibrating with excitement. He aimed the camera squarely at my form-fitting skirt. A wave of pure ecstasy washed over me. Perfect. I’d finally hooked a soul to take my place. 1 I was born under a dark sign. A psychic once told me my lifeline was tragically short. Because of that, I’ve lived my life in a cage of caution. I avoided cliffs and deep water, stayed away from rooftops, and never touched a sharp knife. I never jaywalked and always steered clear of crowds. I even got a full medical check-up every single year since I was born. I figured that with such vigilance, I could probably live a long, peaceful life. But three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer. I don’t smoke. No one in my family does. And every previous medical report showed my lungs were perfectly healthy. Typically, cancer cells need time to grow. With my frequency of check-ups, logic dictated that either a previous test was wrong, or they should have caught it in its early stages. But no. My first diagnosis was terminal. After a storm of tears, my parents finally accepted it. This was my fate. But fate isn’t something you have to accept. Isn’t there a saying? “To defy destiny.” My situation was beyond ordinary remedies. So, they immediately tracked down Mr. Corbin, the same psychic who had read my fortune all those years ago. At first, Mr. Corbin just shook his head, refusing to help. He said that every soul’s time is recorded on Death’s ledger. To forcibly extend a life is like secretly adding a weight to the great cosmic scales; when the accounts don’t balance, there are consequences. The only way was to steal life from another. He scooped a handful of rice and let it spill onto his desk. “You see this? This granary of rice is the total sum of human life in the world. If I take an extra handful for you, some other family’s pot will be short. For you to live, someone else must die.” This is what’s known as finding a scapegoat. But the method was unconscionably cruel. Psychics like him already feared revealing the secrets of the cosmos; meddling with destiny was a line they dared not cross. My parents went to beg him every single day, showering him with gifts of expensive liquor and cash-stuffed envelopes. Eventually, their desperation moved him. He took a long drag from his pipe, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Stealing a life is a wicked thing,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But as they say, some people dig their own graves. If the soul you take is one who brought about their own doom, perhaps the heavens will look the other way.” 2 Mr. Corbin had strict requirements for the scapegoat. To lure such a person, I took a night-shift job, forcing myself to walk home at two in the morning every day. The problem was, the city had gotten too safe. I’d been at it for almost three months without so much as a single catcall. So tonight, I’d chosen to wear a particularly provocative dress. I recognized this streamer. A few days ago, he’d started a series on escorting strangers home at night, and it instantly became a viral hit, netting him a ton of new followers. He called it ‘escorting,’ but it was really just stalking. His targets were always young women walking alone, so his audience was a predictable hive of creeps. They’d get off on making lewd jokes in the chat, fantasizing about the women on screen who, completely unaware, were having their home addresses broadcast to the world. If a woman noticed and got scared, their panic only made the audience more thrilled. It was like an exhibitionist’s high—the bigger the victim’s reaction, the more excited they became. And if a girl was bold enough to confront him, he’d just claim he was a passerby and taunt her. “Do you own the sidewalk?” So, despite the outrage from many women, no one could do a thing about him. I swayed my hips and turned into a deserted alley. The men in the chat went wild, as if they’d all popped a little blue pill. [With my vast experience, I can tell you that slut is doing it on purpose.] [She’s practically sending an invitation. Streamer, what are you waiting for? Make your move!] [Are you man enough for this? If not, let me take over.] [Don’t make me drop a Rocket Ship on you.] Viewers were flooding in. In the blink of an eye, the count broke ten thousand—a record he’d never reached in his three years of streaming. He could feel a hot rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Alright, brothers, keep those gifts coming! We’re gonna try something new tonight. Drop a Porsche, and you can place an order!” Someone asked what ‘placing an order’ meant. He chuckled. “Placing an order means… you tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” The chat instantly erupted. 3 [Porsche sent! I want to see what’s under that skirt!] [I’m sending a Yacht! Strip her naked!] [Can a Rocket Ship get us something really wild? You know what I mean.] The streamer’s breathing grew heavy. He stared at the ever-increasing donation amounts, his throat tightening. He quickened his pace, his voice trembling with a feverish excitement. “Don’t you worry, my brothers. Tonight, I promise you’ll get an eyeful…” He hurried to catch up. This area was a demolition zone, surrounded by the skeletal remains of torn-down buildings. Only a single, lonely bungalow stood in the middle of the rubble. There wasn’t another soul for at least a mile. The chat roared with encouragement. [This place is perfect.] The streamer rubbed his hands together, gleefully announcing that he was about to start serving the first ‘dish.’ Just then, a user named ‘Oracle_Descendant’ started spamming the chat. [STREAMER, DON’T GO IN. SHE’S A SOUL-THIEF.] [YOUR LIFE IS ALREADY BEING STOLEN.] [WALK BACKWARDS OUT OF THERE NOW. DON’T TURN AROUND. DON’T LOOK BACK.] In the dead of night, these messages were a sudden chill, and the streamer scowled. Others saw it too and quickly piled on. [Who’s this little punk? Get lost.] [Yeah, and I’m the reincarnation of Zeus.] [Probably some self-righteous little snowflake thinking she can scare us off.] [I’ll believe you if you come lick my boots, sweetheart.] Oracle_Descendant: [I’m telling the truth. She had the aura of death when this started, but ever since you entered the alley, her life force has been growing stronger. You must have walked into a Seven-Point Soul Trap.] [If you don’t believe me, look at the sides of the path. See if there are any burnt-out candles or ash.] At that moment, a gust of wind blew a piece of yellow, ash-like paper spinning past the camera. The streamer froze. He quickly panned the camera to the side of the path. Lining both sides of the dirt path, spaced about a yard apart, were the stubs of three burnt-out incense sticks at each interval. [HOLY SHIT.] [Could it be real?] The streamer’s fat, greasy face turned a ghastly white. 4 His voice shaking, he typed, “Then… then can you see how much of my life has been stolen?” [Huh… that’s strange. Your life force hasn’t decreased.] The streamer let out a sigh of relief. [Tch… what a liar.] [First, you say his life is being stolen, then you say it’s not.] [Are you just here to mess with us?] The boisterous mood in the chat quickly drowned out the creeping horror. But standing alone in the dark, skeletal demolition site, he still felt a chill crawling up his spine. The thought of quitting had already taken root. Better to get flamed by his audience than to lose his life. Just then, someone typed: [I know this place. They just started demolition a little while ago. Those incense sticks are from a ritual the developers did before they started construction.] [If you don’t believe me, check the news.] He dropped a link into the chat. The news article showed a photo of a demolition site, and sure enough, there was a single house standing in the middle. The article explained that the ‘holdout’ was a young girl whose entire family had died in a car crash, leaving her as the sole survivor. As for why she was holding out? Too many people had struck it rich from demolitions in the past, so the policies had become much stricter. They used to compensate based on square footage, but now it was a flat rate per person: a 35-square-meter housing credit plus a few thousand dollars in compensation. A large family might be able to get a two or three-bedroom apartment out of it, but for a single person like her, it was barely enough for a tiny studio. She’d probably have to pay out of pocket to cover the difference, not to mention furnishing it. Forget getting rich; she was likely to lose money. She worked in another part of the city and didn’t normally live there, but when she heard the demolition crew was coming, she’d moved back overnight. The streamer’s fleeting fear vanished after reading the news. His confidence surged back. The chat was getting rowdy again, urging him to get on with the show. [Don’t be a wimp, bro. Here, I’ll send you a Lion to give you some courage.] The flashy animation of the Lion gift exploded across the screen. The streamer grinned from ear to ear. If it was all just a misunderstanding, then he had nothing to fear. “Alright, brothers,” he announced. “Let the show begin!” He strode purposefully toward the small house.

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I was seven months pregnant when I went to book a suite at a luxury postpartum recovery center. As the staff member entered my information to finalize the contract, she gave me a strange look. “Ms. Vance, our system shows your husband registered with us six months ago.” “But the spouse on file… it’s not you.” I was completely baffled. I pulled out my wedding photo with Alex, holding it up as proof. The staffer rolled her eyes and turned her monitor toward me. “Mr. Thorne has been married for five years. They’re already on their second child. Here’s their marriage certificate and the photos from their last stay with us.” In the photo, my husband, Alex, was holding a baby, beaming at a woman I had never seen before. They were close, their body language intimate and affectionate, looking for all the world like a couple deeply in love. And the man on the marriage certificate was, without a doubt, my husband. If they were husband and wife, then who was I? 1 “Mr. Thorne’s wife is one of our premium members. The audacity of some people, trying to latch onto a wealthy family like this!” “Get out! We don’t serve shameless, pregnant homewreckers here.” The receptionist’s face was a mask of haughty disdain. She looked me up and down, and before I could even begin to explain, she had security escort me out. By the time the shock wore off, the heavy glass doors of the recovery center had swung shut behind me. My mind was reeling. I kept replaying the image of that marriage certificate, those photos. It was Alex’s face, his name, his information. But the woman in the picture was a complete stranger. Why would Alex hide the fact that he was already married? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I immediately called him, desperate for an explanation. But the call went straight to voicemail. I sent a barrage of texts, but they all went unanswered. Then I remembered. He was on a business trip overseas. He was probably busy with work. His company was expanding its international operations, preparing for an IPO. This trip was for a crucial deal; if he landed it, the company would reach a whole new level. Unable to reach him, I had no choice but to bottle up my emotions and wait for his explanation. But if what I saw was true, I would make him pay. Just then, a video call came through. It was Alex. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I was tied up in a meeting and just saw your messages.” His familiar face filled the screen. He was in his office, dressed in a sharp suit. Several half-empty teacups, still steaming, sat on the table beside him. He looked exhausted, and a pang of sympathy shot through me. I was about to ask if he was okay, but the memory of the past hour snapped me back to reality. I stared at him, my voice tight with fury. “Alex, are you hiding something from me? Is there someone else?” The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a look of sheer panic. He looked like he was about to fall to his knees right there on camera. “Honey, no! I swear! I only love you!” “There’s no one else! There never has been!” Frantic to prove his innocence, he spun his camera around, showing me every corner of his office, pointing out the complete lack of any feminine items. “Who’s been telling you these things?!” “Is it some media rumor? I swear, when I get back, I’ll sue them into oblivion!” “Honey, you have to believe me. I’ll only ever love you.” Seeing his pale, panicked face, his frantic gestures, I started to relax. Alex and I had met in college. He’d had a crush on me for two years before finally working up the courage to ask me out. He showed up with a massive bouquet of roses, stumbling over his words, a complete nervous wreck. He had this cool, aristocratic air about him, but he was incredibly shy. The contrast was intriguing. After six months of him courting me, I found myself falling for him, and we started our life together. To give me a better life, he started his own company after graduation. In just two years, he had built it from the ground up, never once complaining about the hardship. When he finally found success, he presented me with all his company shares as a dowry. I remember his proposal vividly. He stood under the moonlight, his voice filled with a sacred reverence as he made his vow: “You are the only one for me, for the rest of my life. Everything I have is yours. If I ever betray you, I want you to take everything and leave me with nothing, to never recover.” He laid his entire world at my feet as proof of his devotion. In that moment, I knew he was the man I could entrust my entire life to. After we were married, he was endlessly attentive. He handled everything, big and small. All our friends knew him as the doting husband who was always home by seven. How could a man who loved me this much have another family? The thought began to soothe my doubts. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll believe you this time. But if I find out you’ve been playing me, you’re dead.” He swore his loyalty again and again, and I finally ended the call, satisfied. The weight in my chest lifted. I was about to start looking for another recovery center when my assistant called. The person in charge of our new product launch had been in an accident on the way to the office. The company was in chaos. My assistant couldn’t reach Alex, so she had called me as a last resort. This launch was a critical turning point for the company. It couldn’t fail. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to go to the office myself and handle the crisis. 2 Two hours later, I arrived at the company headquarters. The media was already set up, but with no one to lead the press conference, the atmosphere was tense. My assistant looked at me as if I were a savior. I told him to go to the hospital first, to make sure our colleague was okay before coming back. After he left, I took a deep breath, composed myself, and walked into the conference hall. As I entered, several of the senior executives saw me and began whispering to each other. I assumed they just didn’t recognize me and smiled, offering a greeting. To my surprise, they shied away from me as if I were carrying a disease. I brushed it off, introduced myself, and was about to announce the start of the press conference when a voice cut through the room. A woman stood up. She held up a marriage certificate, waving it at the cameras. “Miss, you claim to be the CEO’s wife. Then who am I?” I froze. It was the woman from the recovery center, the one from the photo with Alex. What was she doing at a Thorne Industries press conference? I didn’t know her, but as I looked closer, I realized her clothes, her jewelry—it was all in my style. And the limited-edition handbag she was carrying… Alex had stood in line for hours to buy that for me. A hot rage surged through me. “Security! What is the meaning of this?” The conference hall instantly filled with gawkers, and the livestream chat exploded with insults aimed at me. 【Everyone knows @WanderlustWendy! Her husband adores her! I can’t believe some homewrecker is trying to move in on her man.】 【So when Wendy posted an hour ago that she was going to confront a mistress, she was serious? And her husband is the CEO of Thorne Industries?!】 Wendy smirked, a look of pure contempt on her face. She held the marriage certificate up to the camera. “My husband and I have been married for five years. We’re inseparable. I had no idea he had someone on the side.” Her fans descended on me like a pack of rabid dogs. 【She probably got pregnant by some random guy and is trying to trap a rich man! The nerve!】 【If you’re Mr. Thorne’s wife, show us your marriage certificate!】 【Has she looked in a mirror? Does she really think Mr. Thorne would fall for someone like her? I’m going to be sick!】 It was ridiculous. My marriage to Alex was legally recognized. The child in my belly was his. “Please stop spreading these lies,” I said, my voice shaking. “Alex and I are the legally married couple. We built this company together.” I opened my phone, searching for a photo of our marriage certificate, but I couldn’t find one. I remembered then, in a fit of youthful passion, we had torn it up right after the ceremony. We were in the process of getting a replacement for the baby’s birth registration. Wendy let out a soft, mocking laugh. “I knew she couldn’t produce one. Because I am Alex Thorne’s wife.” The online sentiment was unanimous. 【Yeah, we’ve watched Wendy’s channel grow from the beginning. Mr. Thorne has always been so good to her. Why would he want some cheap trash like this?】 I was confused. Alex was always so busy with work. Any free time he had, he spent with me. How could he possibly be having an affair with this Wendy, let alone co-running a “couples” social media account with her? Seeing her smug expression, I snapped. “Your marriage certificate is a fake. Forging official documents is a crime.” Wendy, seeing that I was still refusing to back down, threw a stack of photos at my face. They were pictures of her and Alex, from childhood to adulthood, growing up together, the very picture of childhood sweethearts. The doors to the conference hall opened, and a little boy walked in. His features were a miniature version of Alex’s, right down to his confident demeanor. “Mommy, who’s making trouble at Daddy’s company?” He walked through the room as if he owned the place, completely unfazed by the crowd. The internet exploded. 【That kid looks exactly like Mr. Thorne! It’s undeniable! Can this mistress just stop trying to ruin their family?】 Wendy tilted her chin up, looking at me as if I were garbage. “Stop dreaming. I am Alex Thorne’s wife. You need to accept reality. Not everyone gets to marry into wealth and live a fairytale.” How could this be? How could that child look so much like Alex? My mind was screaming, but then I thought of how attentive Alex always was, how much he loved me… I was so confused. I frantically called Alex a dozen times, but every call went unanswered. “You coward! You’re letting someone bully your wife? Do you have a death wish? You’d better clear this up right now, or you’ll regret it.” My blood was boiling, but I forced myself to stay calm. Alex had looked exhausted a few hours ago. He was probably sleeping. He always silenced his phone when he rested. It was possible he just wasn’t getting my calls. So, I called Leo. He was Alex’s best friend; they had been inseparable since they were kids. He answered immediately. I put him on speaker, my voice hoarse. “Leo, tell me the truth. Is Alex seeing someone else?” Leo sounded like he had just woken up. He was instantly alert. “Stella! Who told you Alex was cheating?! Who’s spreading these lies?!” “I swear on my life, Stella, Alex is not cheating on you. You are his only wife.” Hearing his words, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I played the call for everyone to hear. Leo was a famous actor. He would never help me lie. For a moment, the online opinion was split. 【That’s Leo Vance! Why would he lie? Maybe this woman really is Mr. Thorne’s wife.】 【No way. Wendy’s kid looks exactly like Mr. Thorne. They have to be father and son.】 I raised an eyebrow. “There are many people in this world who look alike. And people can be deceitful. Who’s to say this child hasn’t had plastic surgery? You can’t judge by looks alone.” Seeing that I was still stubbornly refusing to give up, Wendy’s lips curled into a sneer. She took out her phone and made a video call. Alex answered instantly. She projected the call onto the large screen. A moment later, Alex’s face appeared before me. The face that was by my side every day. A face I knew better than my own. He wouldn’t answer my calls, but he answered hers instantly. A wave of dizziness washed over me. He had better clear this up, and fast, or I would make his return very unpleasant. But his next words left me frozen in place. His voice was incredibly gentle. “Honey, what are you doing?” The little boy ran over to the screen, calling out sweetly, “Daddy!” Alex’s lips curved into a smile. “Have you been a good boy for Mommy?” The boy nodded, then his little face scrunched up. “Yes, but someone is making Mommy sad. A woman came today and said Mommy was a mistress, and she embarrassed her in front of everyone.” A flash of surprise crossed Alex’s face, quickly replaced by anger. “Who is this nobody, causing trouble at Thorne Industries? My only wife is Wendy.” “Wendy, hit her back. Your husband will support you.” As he spoke, Wendy rushed toward me. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “I have tolerated you again and again, but you just get worse. I’ve proven who I am. You should accept it now.” I stood there, stunned, my face pale. “How is this possible? That’s not Alex. Alex would never do this to me.” “Give me the phone! I need to ask him what’s going on!” I reached for the phone, wanting to confront him myself. But Wendy wouldn’t let me. Seeing me approach, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She quickly stepped back and yelled, “What are you doing?! This is my husband! So when you can’t win an argument, you resort to violence?” “Security! Is there any security here?! Get this bitch out of here!” The scene descended into chaos. Security guards moved toward me. I clutched my stomach, looking at them. “I’m pregnant. If you touch me and something happens, can you take responsibility for that?” Seeing my condition, the guards hesitated, looking at me with uncertainty. “Miss, this is a press conference. You should probably leave.” I was furious. “Are you blind? Can’t you see who’s causing the trouble here?” I didn’t know what Wendy’s game was. The face on the screen was Alex’s, but with today’s technology, it could easily be a deepfake. Unless I saw him in person, I wouldn’t believe it. As I was thinking, I remembered someone who could prove my identity. “Yes! His mother! She can prove who I am.” I frantically pulled out my phone, about to call my mother-in-law. But when I saw Wendy’s smug expression, I put it away. “You say you’re Alex’s wife. Then you must have his mother’s number. Alex isn’t in the country right now. You could have faked all this other evidence. It proves nothing. If you’re so confident, call his mother. Let’s see if she recognizes you as her daughter-in-law.” My mother-in-law was a world-renowned painter, often seen at international events. Wendy wouldn’t dare to fake someone so famous. Besides, my mother-in-law adored me. The day I married into the family, she gave me their ancestral jade bracelet. Whenever Alex and I argued, she always took my side, scolding him for his faults. She treated me like her own daughter. When I got pregnant, she sent me a huge sum of money for nutritional supplements. Wendy’s lips curled into a sneer. “You just won’t give up until you hit a wall, will you? I bet you don’t have her number.” With that, she dialed a number and put it on speaker, her voice full of grievance. “Mom, someone is causing trouble at the company. She’s claiming to be Alex’s wife and calling me a mistress. You have to come and set things right.” A very familiar voice came from the other end of the line. “Who dares to bully my darling daughter-in-law? I’m on my way to sort them out.” The livestream chat erupted. 【Okay, it’s settled. Wendy is the real wife. No mother-in-law would be that affectionate to a fake.】 【That Stella woman is such a bitch, just trying to marry into money.】 【She’s been slapped in the face with the truth so many times and she’s still insisting. The nerve of this woman.】 I stared at Wendy in disbelief. She just smiled and waggled her phone at me. “My mother-in-law recognizes me as Alex’s wife. Why won’t you believe it?” My fists clenched, my chest heaving, my shoulders trembling uncontrollably. “Mom, it’s me, Stella! I’m your daughter-in-law! How can you take the side of this… this stranger?” Before I could finish, Wendy snatched the phone back and slapped me again. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Who gave you permission to claim my mother as your own?” Her voice was full of manufactured grievance as she cooed into the phone, “Mom, you have to come to the office and prove who I am. Otherwise, some bitch will keep trying to claw her way into our family.” The person on the other end had to be an imposter. I took out my own phone and sent a text to my mother-in-law, briefly explaining what was happening and asking her to come and verify my identity. She replied immediately, saying she was on her way. Knowing her fiery temper, I was sure that when she arrived, Wendy would be thrown out on her ear. I just had to wait for her to get here, and the truth would be revealed. Not long after, her car pulled up to the main entrance. She got out, leaning on her signature cane, walking a little slowly. Seeing that it was really her, the knot in my stomach loosened. I rushed forward to help her. “Mom, you’re finally here! You have to explain to them that I’m your daughter-in-law!” “Some woman showed up out of nowhere with a child, claiming to be the lady of the house. They’ve all been bullying me! You can’t let them get away with this!”

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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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