Category: English

A month ago, King Antonio brought a woman back from outside the palace walls and named her Duchess. The entire court was in an uproar. It was because Antonio had once declared, before all the ladies of the court, that his heart was mine alone. That he would never elevate another to the rank of Duchess. Now, he had broken that sacred vow with his own hands, and the entire court was eagerly awaiting my humiliation. They whispered that he had grown tired of me, that his love had withered on the vine. I traced the petals of a fading rose on the windowsill, a silent, bitter smile touching my lips. They were right. Antonio no longer loved me. Just yesterday, the affection points I had so carefully accumulated—only one point shy of success—had plummeted to zero overnight. All because when the new Duchess, Seraphina, came to pay her respects, I didn’t bid her rise quickly enough. Antonio had walked in on us. His voice was cold. “She is no threat to your position, Nadine. Can you not show the grace of a Queen and stop making things difficult for her?” The old me would have burst into tears, desperately trying to defend myself. But now, I simply nodded, my voice a placid stream. “The Duchess enjoys Your Majesty’s favor. Of course, I would not trouble her.” I immediately decreed that from this day forward, Duchess Seraphina was exempt from paying her respects at the Queen’s Wing. But Antonio’s face darkened further. “Nadine, don’t you see this will only make the court hate her?” I froze, my gaze falling upon the way his brow furrowed, his entire posture protective of her. My mind drifted. So he knew. He knew that to be singled out was to be hated, yet he had placed me on that glittering, lonely pedestal to bask in a warmth that was never truly mine. It didn’t matter now. I bowed my head in gentle submission. “You are right, Your Majesty. It is too great a distinction. Then perhaps the Duchess need not kneel when she comes to call.” The System had told me that if I was docile, obedient, and compliant with Antonio’s wishes, he would be pleased. And if he was pleased, the affection points might rise again. Instead, he flew into a rage, shattering several porcelain vases in the Queen’s Wing. He rounded on me, his voice a raw wound. “Nadine, aren’t you even jealous?” I looked at him, my expression one of pure, placid confusion. “Your Majesty, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted me to be?” Before the System had implanted its protocol, I had asked. “Do I have to go into dormancy? What if Antonio notices something is wrong?” The System’s voice was mechanical, devoid of emotion. “We will act in your stead, becoming the version of you that Antonio most desires. We will maintain this body’s normal functions.” “The version of me he most desires?” “Host, we have analyzed Antonio’s every word of anger towards you and designed a protocol based on that data. It will replace you, and you will become the perfect Queen in his eyes.” I let the fading rose fall from the windowsill, watching it disappear into the courtyard below. Yes. That was it. The things Antonio always raged about were always the same. I was too jealous, too childish, too clingy, too inconsiderate. I was not the ideal Queen he envisioned. Now, the affection points were at zero. The System was preparing to transport me to the next world. He was finally getting his wish. I wiped the last tear from my eye and spoke to the void in my mind. “Begin.” A wave of vertigo washed over me. As the world dissolved into darkness, I heard the System’s final report. [HOST CONSCIOUSNESS… DORMANCY SUCCESSFUL.] [PROTOCOL IMPLANTATION… SUCCESSFUL.] The dead of winter held the castle in its icy grip, blanketing everything in a pristine layer of white. At luncheon, my handmaiden, Bianca, burst into my chambers, her boots tracking snow across the marble floors and startling the doves in the courtyard. “Your Majesty, it’s terrible news! The Royal Physician just left the Sunstone Pavilion. The Duchess… she’s with child!” I set down my paintbrush, discarding the unfinished scroll. My voice was calm, a stark contrast to her panic. “Is that not wonderful news? What is the meaning of this hysteria?” Bianca stared, thinking I must have misheard, and repeated her words, her voice trembling. I unfurled a fresh sheet of parchment, picking up my brush once more. “This is excellent news. The matter of an heir has weighed heavily on me. The Duchess’s pregnancy is a great service to the kingdom. She must be rewarded handsomely. Let this be a reminder to the other ladies of the court to be more diligent in their service to the King.” I continued, my hand steady. “Go to the vaults. Select some of the finest treasures for the Duchess. And take her this painting I have just finished, titled ‘A Mother’s Blessing’.” Bianca gritted her teeth, her hand shaking as she retrieved the key to the treasury box. “Your Majesty, have you forgotten? She stole our choice cuts from the kitchens! She claimed the finest silk meant for you from the looms! She had one of our maids beaten outside the infirmary for collecting your herbal tonics! And the King turned a blind eye to it all, never once punishing her. If she was this brazen before, what will she be like with a royal heir in her belly? She will walk all over you! And you want to send her gifts?” How had I reacted to those incidents before? I had raged. I had pleaded for justice, demanded an explanation. And Antonio had told me I lacked the grace of a true queen. That they were trivial things, not worth disturbing him over. He had ordered me to copy holy scriptures, confined me to my rooms to reflect on my pettiness. I had seethed with injustice then. Now, I only felt that I had indeed been wrong. I sat up straight, a serene smile on my face as I looked at her. “Bianca, I am the Queen. My duty is to be a mother to this nation.” My voice was gentle, but firm. “While the Duchess may have been excessive in the past, I was also at fault. The King was right. As Queen, it is unseemly for me to be possessive, to harbor jealousy, to view the King as my property.” “I have changed. From now on, I will be a model of virtue. I will manage the court with diligence and support my King.” Shortly after Bianca delivered the gifts, an invitation arrived from the Duchess. “Your Majesty,” Bianca said, her voice tight, “the King is so overjoyed about the pregnancy that he is holding a celebratory banquet for the Duchess at the Sunstone Pavilion. Are… are we to attend?” I folded the invitation, my eyes glancing at the new gown the royal weavers had just delivered. “I am the Queen. Of course, I will attend. And I will do so with the utmost grace and decorum.” Bianca understood. She helped me into my most regal gown and dressed my hair in an elaborate style, crowned with the Queen’s coronet. The Sunstone Pavilion was aglow, vibrant with lanterns and alive with music. It was a scene of pure celebration. Bianca’s hand tightened on my arm as she escorted me into the main hall. There, on the dais, in the seat that should have been mine—the one beside the King—sat Duchess Seraphina. Tonight, Antonio was dressed in deep violet, the stark lines of his brow and the sharp angle of his jaw casting him in a severe, handsome light. It only served to make the pregnant Duchess beside him appear all the more delicate and alluring. Bianca’s grip on my arm was a vice, her whisper a furious hiss. “The audacity! She’s using that babe in her belly to usurp your rightful place!” The eyes of every lady in the hall were on me, their faces painted with morbid curiosity. On the dais, Antonio’s gaze flickered towards me, a subtle, challenging glint in his eyes, as if he were waiting for me to make a scene. The Duchess’s smile was pure provocation; she looked as if she was already planning my punishment for disrupting her celebration. I offered a serene smile and a perfect curtsy to the King. “Forgive my tardiness, Your Majesty. I shall drink a cup in penance.” Antonio froze, the wine goblet halfway to his lips. Beside him, Seraphina’s triumphant smirk faltered. She clutched her handkerchief, glancing at Antonio before letting out a tinkling, false laugh. “Oh, my dear Queen, you’ve arrived! Look at this foolish head of mine, pregnancy has made me so forgetful. I seem to have taken your seat. I should be punished, truly.” She cooed, leaning against Antonio’s arm, her eyes flashing with triumph. Antonio looked at me, his expression cold, before wrapping an arm around the Duchess’s waist. “You are the center of tonight’s celebration. It is only right that you sit here.” From across the hall, I could feel the waves of pity washing over me from the other courtiers. For the King to so blatantly disregard decorum for his new favorite… The old me would have turned this hall into a battlefield, a storm of tears and accusations that would have left no one unscathed and stripped Antonio of his dignity. But now… I was to be a model Queen. “You jest, dear Duchess,” I said, my voice carrying clearly through the hall. “I am not so petty.” I continued, my gaze sweeping over the room before landing back on them. “The King is right. You are the star of this evening. Carrying the royal heir is a monumental achievement. Not only should you occupy the seat of honor, but you must also accept these humble gifts from me.” At my signal, servants began to enter in a procession, each carrying a priceless treasure. A root of Kingsfoil, a thousand years old. A string of glowing Lumina Pearls. A vial of powdered Griffin’s Horn. … Each item was from my personal, most cherished collection. Gasps rippled through the banquet hall. There was shock, confusion, and raw envy in their eyes. Even the Duchess was stunned, her hand flying to her mouth. “Your Majesty… all of this… for me?” Antonio’s brow furrowed, his voice a low growl. “Nadine, this is not the time or place for games.” I smiled gently and found an empty seat further down the table. “The Duchess jests. My gifts are quite real. I have been remiss in showing you favor in the past, sister. Now that you have brought such joy to the court, it is only right you be rewarded.” My words left the entire assembly baffled. Tonight, there was no rivalry, no hidden daggers. Only a Queen’s heartfelt blessing for the Duchess. I was the mother of the nation, the Queen that Antonio wanted. Poised, dignified, a paragon of royal virtue. This time, surely, he would be pleased. But he only stared at me, his face an unreadable mask of black anger, before ordering the Duchess to accept the gifts. He gave me one last, deep, inscrutable look before turning away.

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To save my family from the king’s dungeons, I married the Lord Regent—the most feared man in the realm. On our wedding night, the man they whispered was no man at all took me until I teetered on oblivion. The next morning, royal decree in hand, he ordered my House slaughtered. I knelt at his door for three days. “Ten years ago,” he said, ice in his gaze, “your father’s betrayal saw my kin butchered like cattle. This is fate’s wheel turning. Blood owed, paid in blood.” For five years he kept me locked away, tormenting me daily. I held on for my mother’s sake—until he ripped our seven-month child from my womb for his mistress. Seven days before my promised freedom, I stood atop the Spire, wind lashing my robes. And there—the mighty Regent on his knees, begging me not to jump. 01 The moment Damien Vaughn kicked the door open, I had just finished lighting the three memorial candles for our child’s tablet. He seized my wrist, his grip like iron, his expression savage. “Elara, you have some nerve!” “I told you, do not go near Liana. Yet you provoke her, again and again.” “Do you truly believe I won’t do anything to you?” He shoved me violently. My forehead struck the edge of the wooden table behind me, and a painful, red welt immediately began to form. But I acted as if I felt nothing. I slowly sank to my knees before him, pressing my bruised forehead to the cold stone floor. “I am sorry.” Damien’s eyes tightened. He instinctively reached out to help me up, but the moment his fingers brushed my arm, he flinched back. As if he had touched something foul, he snatched his hand away and hid it behind his back. “What game are you playing now, Elara?” I shook my head, my voice as still and dead as a winter lake. “No game. It is my duty to see to Lady Liana.” “Whatever has befallen her, I accept the blame.” It was always this way. He never investigated anything concerning Liana; he simply decreed it was my fault. If Liana had a headache, he claimed it was because our stars were crossed in ill-omen. If Liana sprained her ankle, he accused me of deliberately placing loose stones on the path. And two days ago, when Liana miscarried, and the royal physician found saffron in her tonic… He didn’t need proof. He declared I had done it out of jealousy and spite. He was the one who held the bitter draught to my lips, forcing me to drink. He was the one who ordered the midwife to tear our seven-month-old child from my body, to serve as a companion for Liana’s lost baby in the cold earth. The thought of that unborn child sent a wave of grief so profound through me that I nearly collapsed. I bit down hard on my lip, just to maintain the last shred of composure in his presence. Experience had taught me that any display of weakness would be seen as another ploy, another attempt to manipulate him with pity. The candles on the table burned out. Damien’s gaze swept over them and fell upon the child’s memorial tablet. His face contorted. He strode forward, lifted me without a word, and threw me onto the bed, his hands moving to the ties of my bodice. I could smell it on his collar—the cloying scent of Liana’s favorite perfume. I caught his hand, my eyes meeting his with a strange calm. “My body has not yet healed. Perhaps another day.” Damien froze, then his eyes raked over me, a deep, mocking sneer spreading across his face. He leaned in close, his whisper a venomous caress against my ear. “Elara, besides this body of yours, what other value do you possess?” A chill pierced me to the bone. Ignoring my trembling, Damien ripped away the last of my clothing. The bed canopy fell, casting the room in wavering, uncertain light. His face, devoid of passion, was reflected in my tear-filled, numb eyes. I couldn’t deny it. I loved Damien Vaughn. He was the brilliant, beautiful boy who had dazzled my youth. He was the man I had defied my parents for, kneeling outside their door for three days and nights, determined to marry. But I couldn’t help but hate him, too. He had seduced me into his trap, only to send my entire family to the gallows. He had personally overseen the execution of my parents and a hundred other members of House Sutton. He had kept me a prisoner for five years, shaming and torturing me, day after endless day. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought of death. But five years ago, in that dark, cold dungeon, my mother had clutched my hand, her face streaked with tears. “Elara, my darling,” she had wept, “I only ask one thing of you. No matter what, you must live.” “I will wait for you on the shores of the afterlife for five years. If, after five years, you still have not found a reason to live, then you may come and find me.” My mother hoped that promise of five years would give me a reason to hope, a reason to survive. Even the coming of our child… I had allowed myself to believe it was a glimmer of light my mother had sent me from beyond. But that fragile flame had been ruthlessly snuffed out by Damien. And now, there were five days left until my five years were up. 02 When I woke the next day, Damien, contrary to his usual habit, had not left. He had summoned two maids. One held a steaming bowl of a foul-smelling tonic. “Elara, that child… it was an accident.” “You should understand. You are not worthy of bearing a child of House Vaughn.” Damien was right. I wasn’t worthy. My father was the man who had framed his, leading to the unjust deaths of one hundred and eight innocent people. If Damien hadn’t been blind drunk seven months ago, on the anniversary of his family’s execution, I never would have conceived. But that night, cradled in his arms, he had suddenly begun to weep. “When they purged my House, my little brother was only three. They dragged him to the execution block… and his head rolled in the dirt.” “My sister… she was three days from marrying the man she loved.” “But because of your father’s lies, she was defiled by the guards in her cell. She took her own life in despair.” “If I hadn’t been fostered at the Abbey as a boy, I would have died with them.” “And my family would have been cursed by the people for generations, branded as traitors for a hundred, a thousand years to come.” “Elara, shouldn’t I hate you?” “But, Elara… what am I supposed to do?” I knew in my heart that Damien was just like me. He loved, and he hated. The bond between us was a knot that could never be untied, only severed. I lowered my eyes, took the bowl with both hands, and drank the barren-womb draught in one gulp. A single, wrapped candy fell onto the bedsheets beside me. It was from the confectioner on the East Gate, my favorite. Damien used to buy them for me all the time. Even if it meant waiting in line for hours. I clutched the candy, a sudden, sharp ache in my chest. He always did this. Just when my heart had turned to ash, he would casually light a small lamp. Then blow it out. Then light it again. And blow it out again. Over and over, making my life a torment. Making death an escape I couldn’t quite reach. My hand, hidden in my sleeve, clenched into a fist. I wanted to say something, but when I looked up, all I saw was his retreating back. The two maids whispered to each other. “The daughter of an enemy. I can’t imagine why the Lord Regent keeps her here.” “If it were me, I’d have had her flayed and quartered long ago. Instead, he feeds her, clothes her, lets her play the lady of the manor!” They made no attempt to hide their scorn. The words were meant for me. After they left, the vast room was empty again, except for me and the child’s tablet on the table. … For the next few days, I didn’t see Damien. The servants whispered that Lady Liana had caught a chill, that her head was splitting with pain. Damien stayed by her side the entire time, caring for her diligently. On the final day of my five-year promise, the estate’s steward pushed open my door. “The Lady Liana wishes to plant a winter rose garden. She has commanded that you are to go and turn over all the soil in the back garden.” My head snapped up. The back garden. That’s where I buried my child’s body. 03 By the time I stumbled into the back garden, Liana had already directed the groundskeepers to dig up half the frozen earth. “Stop! All of you, stop!” I screamed, heedless of my appearance. But the servants knew my place in this house. They paid me no mind. I rushed to Liana. “Tell them to stop! Make them stop now!” Liana waved a dismissive hand, and two of her personal guards pulled me away. She toyed with a string of pearls, a light, cruel laugh on her lips. “A wretched little thing like that doesn’t deserve to be buried in the hallowed grounds of this estate.” “The frost is deep, and the beasts in the forest are hungry. Once we dig the little beast up, we can toss it to them. Consider it an act of charity.” Her words struck me like a physical blow. I was filled with a blinding rage. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I broke free from the guards and seized the front of Liana’s dress. “Liana, you took my child from me. I’ll kill you!” I pulled the simple wooden pin from my hair and lunged, aiming for her throat. The pin had barely scratched her delicate skin when a powerful hand shoved me from behind. I slammed into a stone bench, and in an instant, the cold steel of a dozen swords was at my throat. Liana, feigning terror, collapsed into Damien’s arms, sobbing. “Damien, my love, you came just in time! If you hadn’t, I would never have seen you again.” Damien’s brow was a knot of fury, but his eyes were fixed on me, silent and unreadable. I ignored the animosity between us, my voice a desperate plea. “Damien, please. I beg you, make them stop.” “Punish me however you want, I’ll accept anything, but that is my child!” “Damien… he is our child…” Ignoring the blades at my neck, I crawled step by agonizing step and knelt at his feet. I clutched the hem of his trousers, my voice a raw, ugly rasp. “He was a boy, Damien. He will never learn to ride a horse or draw a bow now…” In countless nights past, Damien had kissed my hair and whispered in my ear: “Elara, my love, when we have a child…” “If it’s a boy, I will teach him to ride and shoot.” “If it’s a girl, you will teach her poetry and song.” But now, our child never even had the chance to see this world. The memory must have struck Damien too, because his pupils contracted sharply. He instinctively glanced at the ravaged garden, his face shadowed and dark. Liana sensed his hesitation. She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Damien, the Master Physician came yesterday. He said my ceaseless headaches are caused by the unquiet spirit of a dead infant buried on the grounds.” “It was foolish of me. I was only thinking of myself, not of my lady’s feelings.” “If she truly cannot bear it, I suppose I can continue to suffer…” I didn’t hear another word she said. All I saw was a groundskeeper unearthing a small bundle wrapped in red cloth. The searing crimson made my tears fall anew. I tugged desperately at Damien’s leg. “Damien, if you just spare my child…” “I will give up my position as your wife. I will give it to Liana!” “My wife?” Damien’s brow furrowed, and then a storm of fury erupted in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. “Elara, does the title of Lady Vaughn disgust you so much?” I knelt there, sobbing too hard to speak. His lips thinned into a white line, his face ashen. Suddenly, he let out a harsh, barking laugh. “You are truly something else!” “A dead infant is an ill omen. To leave it here will only bring disaster upon this house. Men! Bring me tinder and dry branches…” Damien squeezed his eyes shut, hiding the raw crimson within them. He bit out each word. “Burn it. On the spot.”

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I had my heart set on a diamond ring at the auction, the one I’d chosen to be my wedding ring. A symbol of my future with Damian. But no matter how high I bid, the young woman Damian sponsored always outbid me by a single dollar. Damian just smiled, a picture of helpless affection. “Darling,” he murmured, his voice a low thrum against my ear. “You know how she is with shiny things. Just let her have it. Be good.” In response, I lit the lamp. Zoe fled the hall that day, tears streaming down her face. Damian simply kissed my forehead, a soft, forgiving gesture. “My feisty girl,” he chuckled. He didn’t chase after Zoe. In the year that followed our wedding, he was an insatiable, inventive lover, claiming my body night after night, never giving me a moment’s peace. Then, today, an invitation arrived for a private auction. And there it was, projected onto a massive screen for all to see: a photo of me, lost in ecstasy beneath Damian. A trophy. Damian’s arm was wrapped possessively around Zoe’s waist. He looked at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “You love to light the lamp, don’t you? Well, here are three hundred and sixty-five photos. If you don’t want them falling into other hands, you’d better start bidding.” … I stood frozen in the auction hall, surrounded by dozens of men, their leering eyes fixed on the screen as they traded vulgar comments. “Damn, she’s pure filth! And here I thought I’d seen it all. First time a single photo has gotten me this worked up.” “Tsk, tsk. Who would’ve thought? Aria Ashton looks so pure, but in bed, she’s wilder than a professional. And to think she has the nerve to tell us to get lost if we even get close.” “Damian, you lucky bastard. You’ve really broken in the precious daughter of the esteemed Ashton family, haven’t you?” a man said, winking at Damian, who was seated in the place of honor at the front. My fists clenched, my body trembling as I forced myself to turn and face my husband. In the seat beside him, the one that should have been mine, sat Zoe. Damian didn’t even try to hide it. His lips curled into a lazy, satisfied smile. “For the winner of each photo,” he announced, his voice smooth as velvet, “a full video of that night will be included as a bonus.” “A man of taste and generosity!” The room erupted. Damian’s gaze locked onto mine, his handsome features alight with amusement. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you, you can light the lamp. Three hundred and sixty-five times. Take your time.” “Come on, Damian, you must know! The Ashton family went bankrupt. She’s got next to nothing left!” someone shouted from the crowd. “To light the lamp costs fifty million a pop! She’d be lucky to have a hundred million to her name right now!” Damian raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Oh? Is that so?” “Tsk! What a shame. Three hundred and sixty-five photos, each one a masterpiece. Honestly, I’d be tempted to buy them all myself for… private study.” A man stroked his chin, sighing dramatically. “Too bad the only one here with that kind of cash is Damian himself.” Damian just laughed and held up a hand. “Gentlemen, please. Thorne Industries will not be bidding on any lots tonight. All proceeds will be donated to charity. Enjoy yourselves.” A wave of cheers washed through the hall. “Now that’s a true philanthropist! Good thing Thorne Industries quietly squeezed out all the Ashton’s business partners, or we might not be getting our hands on these photos today!” “What’s there to worry about? There are dozens of us. We can all get a piece!” “No way! That third one is a work of art. I’m taking that one, no matter the cost!” My voice was a strangled whisper, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I stared at Damian, the reality of his betrayal crashing down on me. “Ashton Industries… it was you? You’re the one who destroyed my family?” He simply held my gaze, that chilling smirk never leaving his face. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Why?” I croaked, my voice raw. “Just because I lit the lamp that one time, a year ago?” He ignored my anguish, picking up the microphone. “We’re on a schedule, Ms. Ashton. If you’re not going to participate, I’ll let my friends begin.” The men watched me, their eyes filled with a predatory hunger. Every single person in this room was a titan of industry. The hundred million I had left, my entire fortune, was probably what they spent on a weekend getaway. How could I possibly compete with them? “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” I wiped my tears away, turning and walking out before I completely shattered. I was afraid I would start screaming and never stop. A chorus of jeering laughter followed me. “Look at that, even a whore can feel shame, hahaha!” “Damian, don’t wait for her. What’s a hundred million to us? She’s just making an excuse to run away.” “All of you, shut up,” Damian’s voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. He stared intently at the doorway I had just disappeared through. The room fell silent. A few minutes later, I pushed the door open. Under the stunned gaze of every man in the room, I returned to my seat, my eyes still red and swollen. “Let’s begin.” Damian shot me a look, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. To better display the “exhibits,” the main screen had been expanded into a panoramic, wrap-around display, ensuring my humiliation was visible from every angle, in a constantly rotating slideshow of my most vulnerable moments. “The first photo,” the auctioneer announced with a sleazy grin. “Bidding starts at two million.” The room buzzed with excitement. “Sublime! Absolutely sublime! She’s an artist, that one. The ‘proper’ ones are always the freakiest.” “Two and a half million!” The auctioneer just smiled, and with a flick of his wrist, a block of text appeared on the screen next to the photo. I shot to my feet. It was a lurid, play-by-play of our wedding night, written with an intimacy and detail that… There was only one other person who could have written that. My trembling gaze found Damian. He sat there, a mask of detached amusement on his face as if he were a mere spectator. Only when Zoe leaned in to whisper something in his ear did his expression soften, his eyes filling with a tenderness he never showed me. The whispers and snickers around me were a physical force, threatening to drown me. “I thought the photos were hot, but the story is even better! Don’t you dare fight me on this one! Five million! I want that video!” “Six million!” “If she’s this wild on the first night, I can’t even imagine what came next… Tsk, tsk! Ten million!” “Light the lamp.” My own voice was a ghost of a sound, shaking but clear. Every head in the room swiveled towards me. The auctioneer’s professional smile faltered for a second. “Number 38 lights the lamp. Are you sure?” I sank back into my chair, feeling drained. “I’m sure.” “Tsk! A damn shame. That video must be incredible.” “What are you worried about? How many more can she afford?” “Exactly. She only gets better with practice. The later ones will be worth the wait.” “Number 38 lights the lamp! Congratulations to Ms. Ashton on her acquisition of the accompanying video!” I closed my eyes, my nails digging so deep into my palms I thought they would draw blood. The screen immediately flashed to the second photo, complete with another graphic description. “The second photo! Bidding starts at two million!” The room was on fire now. “Is this for real? This is better than any of my ‘educational materials’!” A man sitting near me leaned in close. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re full of surprises. So prim and proper on the outside, but you’re just a slut in private, aren’t you?” I shot him a venomous glare, and he roared with laughter. “Oh, I like that fire! If Damian doesn’t want you, I’ll take you. I’ll even help you with a bid, how about it?” “Don’t touch me,” I snarled, my voice cold enough to freeze hell. He just snorted and leaned back. “Playing hard to get? You’re used goods, sweetheart. Ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Light… the lamp.” I don’t know where I found the strength to say it. The auctioneer gave me a long, meaningful look. “Number 38 lights the lamp!” As the sale was finalized, his professional smile returned, now laced with condescension. “That’s two lamps lit, Ms. Ashton. According to our verification, that leaves you with a cash flow of less than five million dollars, correct?” My voice was flat, lifeless. “Continue.” “Hah.” A flicker of undisguised contempt crossed his face before he presented the third photo. “The third photo! Bidding starts at two million!” “Light the lamp.” At the sound of my voice, the entire room stared at me in disbelief. The auctioneer’s face hardened. “Ms. Ashton, your initial verification showed a net worth of one hundred and four million. You’ve already spent one hundred million. You do not have sufficient funds.” A man winked at me. “Beg me, darling. I’ll light it for you.” I ignored them all, my gaze fixed on Damian. He was watching me too. But there was no hint of pity in his eyes, only a smug, derisive curl of his lip. Everyone looked from me to him. After all, he was still my husband. “Why is everyone looking at me?” Damian asked, a lazy drawl in his voice. “I already said, the floor is yours tonight.” The men breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Our thanks to Mr. Thorne for his generosity!” Just then, Zoe, who had been silent beside him, raised her hand. “I’ll do it. I’ll light the lamp for my sister.” Damian looked at her, a brief flash of surprise giving way to an undisguised, warm smile. Zoe turned to me. “After all, Aria sponsored my studies abroad. I can’t just stand by and not repay her kindness, can I?” The smile in Damian’s eyes deepened. Staring at Zoe, the icy wall he always kept up seemed to melt away completely. The room erupted in a chorus of sycophantic approval. “No wonder Damian adores Zoe! Who wouldn’t love a girl that sweet and obedient?” “Zoe is such a good girl. She blushes if you even tell a dirty joke. Not like some people, tsk tsk!” Their pointed gazes were like daggers in my back. A triumphant smirk flickered across Zoe’s lips before she masked it with a look of concern. “Don’t worry, Aria.” “What a performance.” She blinked, caught off guard. “What?” “This is how you repay me? By stealing my husband and my seat?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice dripping with ice. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t fallen so low that I need help from a backstabbing whore and a monster.” “Aria.” It was the first time Damian had spoken to me directly, and his tone was so cold it was like he was speaking to a stranger. I shot him a withering look before turning to the auctioneer. “I’m the one lighting the lamp. I’ll handle it myself.” “Well…” The auctioneer hesitated. “If you insist, we would have to include your real estate assets. But since Ashton Industries went bankrupt, their value has plummeted. It might just barely cover the fifty million.” “Then do it. Stop wasting my time.” “Tsk, tsk. The woman’s gone insane.” The men shook their heads, their voices laced with pity and mockery. “Giving up the roof over her head just to save face. What a shame, that third photo was my favorite.” “Don’t worry about it. We haven’t even gotten through a fraction of them. There are over three hundred left. What’s the rush?” “Right? I got a sneak peek. The later ones are so depraved she barely looks human, hahaha!” Their stares, a mixture of pity and scorn, bore down on me. “A cornered animal, fighting to the last.” “Next round, she’ll have no choice but to watch us buy up her filth.” “Tsk, tsk. I wonder what her face will look like then. Will it be the same expression she has in bed with Damian?” The snickering was relentless. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my hands clenched into tight fists, and looked up at the auctioneer. The fourth photo flashed onto the screen. “The fourth photo! Bidding starts at two million!” “Oh, now this one I really like! Fifteen million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Light the lamp,” I said again. Every eye in the room was on me. The auctioneer’s smile was strained to the breaking point.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393110”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m a travel vlogger. On that sweltering All Souls’ Eve, the zoo’s “Hungry Ghost Gate” (a rusted Victorian arch) creaked open by itself. The fortune-teller—a defrocked Jesuit who studied Taoism—warned me: “That macaque’s yang lifespan is draining. It is kowtowing to you to borrow your life.” So I knelt like a confessing sinner and headbutted the ground until the cobblestones wept blood. Forty-seven strikes. A Catholic-Asian exorcism. 1 I’m a travel vlogger. On a sweltering All Souls’ Eve, while the rest of the city was shuttered in, I was still live-streaming from the Blackwood Zoo, grinding to leave my competition in the dust. The sun bled across the horizon, painting the empty pathways in shades of orange and blood. I was in the primate house, pointing my front-facing camera at a lone macaque, when I connected with the biggest paranormal streamer on the web. He went by “Master Shanyuan,” a name he’d adopted after his time studying Taoism. Rumor had it he was a defrocked Jesuit, which only added to his mystique. On screen, he was the spitting image of an ancient sage—a young man with long, dark hair tied back in a scholar’s knot, clad in flowing silken robes. He looked the part, and then some. “Master Shanyuan, hey! It’s Chloe,” I said, forcing a cheerful grin. “Tonight, we’re checking out the monkeys.” I panned the camera back to the macaque. Shanyuan’s serene expression tightened. His brow furrowed, his face turning grim. “That’s one of the Old Ones,” he said, his voice a low hum. “A relic from a forgotten time. Long ago, the Monkey King himself stormed the underworld and struck its name from the Ledger of Souls. It lives, but its yang lifespan has run dry.” My chat lit up. 【what is this, a halloween special??】 I glanced back at the monkey. Its fur was sleek, but its back was hunched, its movements ancient and weary. Its eyes, cold and dark, were locked onto me. And then it began to bow. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound echoed unnervingly in the silent enclosure. It was prostrating itself, its forehead hitting the concrete floor with a sickening rhythm. “It’s kowtowing to you,” Shanyuan said, his voice flat, like a newscaster reporting a tragedy. “Begging to borrow your life.” “One year. Two years.” I spun around, dropped to my knees, and started kowtowing right back at it. “GIVE ME MY YEARS BACK, YOU FURRY LITTLE DEMON! GIVE THEM BACK!” I slammed my forehead into the ground—fast, hard, precise. The ghostly monkey froze mid-kowtow, its jaw slack with astonishment. Shanyuan deadpanned, “I… don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work.” He continued his emotionless countdown. “Negative one year. Negative two years.” The monkey snapped out of its stupor. We stared each other down, a bizarre duel of frantic prostration. But it was old, its movements stiff. It couldn’t keep up with the raw, desperate energy of a vlogger fighting for her life. Smoke seemed to curl from its wrinkled brow as it struggled to match my pace. 【lmao a vlogger and a monkey in a kowtow battle, is this real life??】 【i’m not even paying for this content, i feel like i’m stealing】 “If you haven’t followed yet, now’s the time, people!” I yelled between headbutts, my voice strained. “Hit that button and power up your girl!” I was young, I was fit, and I was terrified. I out-bowed that monkey by a full forty-seven strikes. With one final, wheezing gasp, it collapsed, its borrowed time exhausted. I had reverse-uno’d death itself. Shanyuan’s gaze drifted to the dying sun behind me. “The park is closing. You need to leave before the last light fades.” “The parrots here… only one of them tells the truth.” “And whatever you do,” he added, his voice dropping an octave, “do not make eye contact with the pythons.” He paused, cleared his throat, and his entire demeanor shifted into a slick, commercial drone. “And hey, if you run into any… ‘technical difficulties,’ head on over to the Azure Sky Priory’s online shop. We’ve got talismans, wards, the whole shebang. Group discounts as low as $9.99 a pop, folks.” 2 I scrambled to my feet and started back the way I came. The first enclosure on my route was the Reptile House. A colossal python, thick as a tree trunk, was coiled behind a wall of reinforced glass. I fumbled in my bag, pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses, and slapped them on. Then I strode past with all the fake bravado I could muster. 【wait, that actually works? XD】 【CHLOE, BEHIND YOU!!】 【OMG OMG OMG WHAT IS THAT THING】 I whipped my head around. There, clinging to the branches of a gnarled oak tree, was the monkey. The one I’d just kowtowed into oblivion. It was back. It scrabbled on all fours, a dark, twitching horror, its body moving in a way that defied nature. A guttural screech tore from its throat. Did it just buy a respawn? Seriously? This thing was more persistent than a pop-up ad. “It just took a quick trip to the Underworld’s antechamber,” Shanyuan explained calmly from my phone. “But its name isn’t in the Ledger of Souls, so they kicked it right back out.” I didn’t need to be told twice. I broke into a dead sprint. “So what’s the play here?!” I gasped, my lungs burning. “My professional advice,” he said, “would be to run faster than it does.” “Are you kidding me?!” The monkey gave chase while I ran for my life, vaulting over benches and dodging possessed popcorn stands. Finally, I leaned against a wall, wheezing. This couldn’t go on. I quickly edited my stream description: 【Travel Vlogger Takes On The Underworld. Zero Experience.】 It was immediately flagged and removed for violating community guidelines. “Son of a…” My fingers flew across the screen, pulling up the Azure Sky Priory’s online shop. The talismans were all sold out. My chat was a flood of comments. 【Ooh, a talisman? Dibs.】 【Home alone and officially creeped out. Adding to cart.】 You guys couldn’t have left one for me?! Shanyuan spoke up. “If you’d like to see this item restocked, smash that ‘like’ button, friends. If we get enough interest, I’ll have my apprentice whip up another batch.” DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’M DEALING WITH RIGHT NOW?! His apprentice’s head popped into the frame. “For our more… impatient patrons, a generous donation will get you a custom-drawn sigil, live and on the spot.” I didn’t hesitate. I tipped five hundred dollars. Shanyuan lifted his brush, dipped it in what looked like crimson ink, and began to paint. The lines were fluid, ancient. When he was done, he held the finished sigil up to the camera. It seemed to pulse with a faint light. “Show this to the monkey,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “Ah, a truly perfect specimen.” I cranked my phone’s brightness to max and shoved it in the monkey’s face. It froze, its shrieking dying in its throat. A thin wisp of smoke began to curl from its fur. That was my cue. I ran. 3 The next area was the aviary. A row of parrots perched on a branch, their heads cocked. As I passed, they started talking. “Your favorite ship is queerbait.” “The day before my wedding, I found out my fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor.” “I am the last heir of the Romanov dynasty. Venmo me $500 for a train ticket to my hidden vault, and I will make you a Duke when I reclaim my throne.” “The McDonald’s ice cream machine is broken. Again.” I ignored them all. Finally, one parrot, its feathers matted with something dark and wet, preened itself and spoke in a chillingly clear voice. “There’s no signal in this park. And the man you’re talking to? He’s not alive.” I wanted to reach out and clamp its beak shut. Way to be a buzzkill, you feathered menace. Shanyuan was my only lifeline in this godforsaken place. I stopped in my tracks and spun to face the bird, my voice ringing with indignation. “You take that back! Don’t you dare try to drive a wedge between us! Everyone in my chat, all my viewers… they’re my family! They’re the only reason I’m still going!” The parrot just stared at me. “…” Then it spat. “Ptooey. Simp.” 【LMAOOOO a parrot trying to stir up drama】 【omg that trust… i’m crying chloe we love you】 【I’ve been a sub for three years, I knew I picked the right streamer!】 【Fake fan alert, she’s only been streaming for two years.】 The warmth in the chat settled my frayed nerves. I turned my back on the squawking parrot and pushed onward. 4 The last vestiges of sunset vanished. The sky was now a deep, starless black. Ghostly lamps flickered to life along the path, their light as pale and weak as foxfire. “The park is officially closed,” Shanyuan announced. “The paths will grow longer from here on out.” His apprentice popped back on screen. “Care for a reading? A little divination to see what the road ahead holds?” I stared at the yawning, black entrance to the Tiger Territory. My heart hammered against my ribs. Gritting my teeth, I sent another five-hundred-dollar tip. Shanyuan produced a turtle shell and a handful of old coins. He shook them, the rattle echoing from my phone’s speaker, and cast them onto a silk cloth. He studied the pattern. “Do not buy anything from the groundskeeper. Your currencies are not compatible.” I switched on my phone’s flashlight, cutting a weak beam into the oppressive darkness. A figure stood silhouetted at the entrance to the tiger enclosure. 【That must be the groundskeeper he mentioned.】 【NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE. TURN BACK!】 My legs refused to move. “Demons and ghouls, get thee hence! By bell, book, and candle, I command thee!” I mumbled a panicked, half-remembered exorcism and took two shaky steps forward. The shadow glided toward me. A terrifying, mutual advance. My knees were knocking together so hard I was surprised I was still standing. The figure stopped right in front of me. “Just gonna, uh, pixelate this for you guys at home,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t want to give anyone nightmares.” 【I’m crying, she’s still thinking of us.】 【What a sweetheart.】 I censored the feed and looked up. The groundskeeper’s face was bloodless, a stiff, waxen mask. He offered a smile so wide it looked like it had cracked the corners of his mouth. In one hand, he held a dripping, freshly killed chicken. “Buy a chicken for the tigers? Only twenty bucks,” he rasped. Shanyuan said not to buy anything. But he didn’t say anything about getting it for free. Time to swallow my pride. “I’m a student,” I said, my voice cracking convincingly. “Can you spot me?” The groundskeeper blinked. “?” I leaned into it. “My family’s dirt poor. I’ve got my eighty-year-old grandma and my three-year-old brother to support. Please, sir, just give it to me.” His words came out in a halting, confused stutter. “How… how big is the age gap between your mother and your brother?” Tears started welling in my eyes. “It’s a long story. My mom’s not my real mom, and my brother’s not my real brother…” The floodgates opened. I wept with the force of a Greek tragedy. “Okay, okay! Just take it!” the groundskeeper groaned, shoving the chicken into my hands. He turned and shuffled away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. 【Our girl has at least a decade of scamming experience.】 【LMAO who scams a GHOST?】 【Poor groundskeeper never stood a chance.】 I let out a shaky breath and walked on, clutching my ill-gotten chicken. 5 Three tigers paced in the enclosure, so starved they were little more than striped skeletons. But I only had one chicken. I stood at the entrance, stumped. “Okay, chat,” I said into my phone. “Three tigers, one chicken. Give me your best high-EQ solutions.” The chat exploded with suggestions. 【Whisper in their ear: ‘I’m a high-EQ individual, let me have this one.’】 【Tell them they have spinach in their teeth.】 【Just hang yourself at the gate to assert dominance.】 【Kneel and beg the tigers not to embarrass you.】 After a minute of scrolling, I decided to go with the kindergarten teacher approach. I held the chicken aloft. “Alright, let’s see which of my little tiger-wiger cubs is the goodest boy today!” All three skeletal tigers padded over, their eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “Okay, sit! Stand! Now, shake paws with the tiger next to you. Very good! You were the best listener, so you get the chicken!” I tossed the chicken over the fence. As I dusted off my hands, ready to make a clean getaway, a ferocious roar ripped through the air. 【SHIT, RUN! The other two are coming for you!】 【GO, CHLOE, GO!】 I glanced over my shoulder. The two starving tigers had burst out of the enclosure. They had torn the damn gate off its hinges and were carrying it on their backs, a clanging, terrifying battering ram chasing me down the path. This generation of tigers had zero chill. Absolutely no respect for the rules. Thankfully, they were weak from hunger and couldn’t run very fast. “Hey! You! The one with the chicken!” I yelled back at the enclosure. “A little help here!” The well-fed tiger trotted out and padded up beside me. “Down, boy,” I commanded. It obeyed. I swung myself onto its back. “Alright, buddy. Let’s lose these guys.” 【NO WAY, did that just happen?!】 【She’s a natural-born tiger whisperer.】 【Kindergarten Teacher strat for the win!】 6 I escaped the Tiger Territory, my heart still pounding. The next stop was the Peacock Garden. Shanyuan’s apprentice reappeared. “Another reading, vlogger? Second one’s half price.” “If I only get one, I save two-hundred-and-fifty bucks,” I shot back. “Sorry, no can do,” he said smugly. “This area has two rules.” My chat could see the despair on my face. 【Looks like she has no choice but to pay up.】 I was going to cry. This was the first time I’d ever paid a streamer during a collab. With a heavy heart, I sent another seven hundred and fifty. Shanyuan began the reading. “First rule: do not look at a peacock when its tail is fanned.” “What happens if I do?” I asked, dreading the answer. “…You become part of the display.” He cleared his throat. “Second rule: do not accept a peacock’s mating proposal.” “Huh?” Who in their right mind would do that? 【LMAO do not accept a peacock’s mating proposal】 【Is that a thing? Do people do that?】 I put my sunglasses back on and tried to stroll casually past the enclosure. A man stepped out, blocking my path. He was… stunning. Unnaturally so. Pale, luminous skin, piercing emerald eyes, a face that belonged on a magazine cover. 【Okay who is THIS? Say yes. Just say yes.】 【I take it back. I would accept.】 He flashed a smarmy, practiced smile. “The more I look at you, the more I hate you… for being so damn enchanting.” 【Ew. So greasy.】 【Never mind, the ones who wanted to say yes have gone quiet.】 I stared at him blankly. “…” Oh. So this was the peacock. He leaned a hand against a wall, striking a pose. “The pickup lines might be stolen, but my love for you is real.” I wished I had a bottle of dish soap to degrease him. Instead, I rummaged in my bag, found a packet of oil-blotting sheets, and tossed them at his face. He let out a high-pitched shriek and exploded into a flurry of feathers, transforming back into a giant peacock. “I don’t believe it! No one can resist my charms!” he squawked, and then fanned his tail. It wasn’t just feathers. The intricate patterns were eyes. Not patterns that looked like eyes. Actual, literal eyes. Hundreds of them, each one winking, throwing me a flirtatious, sickening glance. My stomach churned. I whipped out my phone and blasted him with the flashlight. “Hey! Have you no decency?!” he screeched, scrambling away. “You can’t just shine a bright light in a celebrity’s eyes!” 7 I made it out of the Peacock Garden, feeling thoroughly violated. The next area was the Elephant Enclosure. I was exhausted. This was not fun anymore. The apprentice’s voice piped up, sounding bored. “I’m tired of the script. Let’s cut to the chase. Buy two prophecies, get one free.” A pit formed in my stomach. Why were the rules multiplying? 【LMAO the look on her face is priceless】 【Tipping one dollar to help our girl get through this.】 【I’ll match that and raise you another dollar.】 So tired. When I get out of here, I’m becoming a paranormal streamer. The money’s insane. I sent another thousand dollars into the digital ether. Shanyuan began. “One: There is only one zookeeper. Two: Of the two paths out, take the one heading south. Three: I have miscalculated one of my prophecies.” “Excuse me?” My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. 【my head hurts, am i growing a brain?】 【crowdfunding brain cells, i don’t get the rules either.】 “Can I get a refund on the miscalculated prophecy?” I asked. The apprentice sniffed. “All sales are final, ma’am.” “Then I’ll call my credit card company and issue a chargeback.” “These are virtual goods, dear,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Once rendered, they are non-refundable.” I played my last card. “My little brother used my phone. He’s a minor.” 【IS THAT HOW YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO USE THE MINOR REFUND EXCUSE LMAO】 【Fighting fire with fire, I respect it.】 Shanyuan was silent. The apprentice, through gritted teeth, said, “Fine. Refund issued.” A notification popped up on my screen. 【Refund Successful. Product: “I have miscalculated one of my prophecies.”】 Sneaky. So very sneaky. That was the wrong prophecy. The lie was the prophecy itself. I immediately sent the money back. 【I’m returning the freebie instead.】 【Class act. A truly honest streamer.】 With my path clear, I headed south. Halfway there, the zookeeper appeared. A ring of keys hung from his belt, and he carried a bunch of bananas. His skin had a sickly green-blue tint. “This path is under maintenance,” he droned, his voice hollow. “Please head east.” I ignored him and kept walking. Blood began to seep from the corners of his mouth. A low gurgle started in his throat. “WHY WON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! WHY!” I stopped, spun on my heel, and walked back, offering a polite bow. “You’re so right, my apologies. I’ll listen to you. Whatever you say.” He looked pleased. Humming a tuneless melody, he continued his patrol, swinging his keys. 【Team Coward gets a major win!】 【That’s not cowardice, that’s high EQ.】 The blood-leaking thing was way too terrifying. I wasn’t about to get murdered on the spot. In the Elephant Enclosure, I saw another zookeeper. This one was feeding an elephant, happily singing. “Oh, Mr. Elephant, Mr. Elephant, why is your trunk so very long?” The tune was oddly familiar. As I passed, he looked up at me, his eyes surprisingly clear. “Hey, miss,” he said. “Do you like green peppers?” I shook my head. “Hate ’em.” His face lit up. “Me too!” 【he looks so familiar… lmao】 【i know exactly who you’re thinking of】 8 We chatted for a while, completely ignoring the giant elephant beside us. “Well, I should get going,” I finally said. He dusted himself off. “I’ll see you out.” “I wanted to take the south path.” He looked troubled. “The south path is a no-go. There’s a guy watching it.” “Tell him to stop watching it.” “He’s really scary,” he mumbled. “I don’t dare.” We stood there in awkward silence. I pulled out my phone again. “Master Shanyuan, any ideas?” The apprentice rolled his eyes. “You got a refund. You’re on our block list.” Shanyuan sighed. “Check my shopping cart link.” I scrolled through the online store for what felt like an eternity before grimly selecting the cheapest Immobilization Talisman. I marched back toward the south path. The blood-leaking zookeeper snarled. “You dare return?” I held up my phone, the glowing talisman displayed on screen. “Red light, green light, one, two, three!” He froze solid. But the second I lowered my phone, his face contorted in rage and he lunged. I had no choice. I held the phone high above my head, screen facing him, and began walking backward, one painstaking step at a time, out of the enclosure. Once I was through the gate, I dropped my arm. He charged. CLANG! I slammed the gate shut. His momentum carried him forward, and he ended up comically embedded in the chain-link fence, struggling like a fish in a net. “Maybe you’ll think twice before scaring people,” I muttered, turning away.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393161”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was day 99 after my divorce from Ethan Cole when he shamelessly begged to see me. I was home, just finishing dinner, when an unknown number called. “Hey, Ava? It’s Mike… Ethan’s friend? Listen, Ethan’s really drunk down here at The Riverfront Grill. He’s making a scene out front, refusing to leave. He keeps saying he needs to see you.” I hung up without a second thought. Less than three seconds later, he called back. “Look,” I said flatly, “Ethan and I are divorced. If he’s causing trouble, you should call the police.” “Ava, please, I’m begging you. Just come see him. Just for a second. Even if you just come yell at him… I’ve never seen him like this. And it’s freezing out here, man, he’s gonna get sick or worse. He was coughing like crazy earlier when we were inside…” I’ve always been a sucker for a sob story. Hearing Mike plead like that, something deep inside me twinged. “Ava, please? Can you just come take a look? We’re right by the entrance to The Riverfront.” I knew I shouldn’t, but I heard myself reply clearly, “I’ll be there in an hour.” After hanging up, my hand trembled uncontrollably. Ethan… we promised we’d never see each other again. Why are you crashing back into my world? When I got there, I spotted him immediately. He was definitely wasted, head down, slumped on the edge of a concrete planter box near the entrance. He looked nothing like the polished CEO I knew. As soon as Mike saw me, he ran over like I was the cavalry. “Ava, thank God you’re here! Ethan’s just sitting there, I can’t get him to budge.” He basically pushed me towards Ethan. Ethan slowly looked up, and then suddenly threw his arms around my waist, burying his face in my stomach. “Baby… baby, you came… I missed you so much…” It was peak dinner time. People were constantly coming and going, throwing curious glances our way. I struggled frantically, trying to push him off. He might not care about making a scene, but I certainly did. “Who’s your baby? You’ve got the wrong person.” But his grip was as strong as ever, locking onto my waist, refusing to let go, all while rambling like a lunatic. “Baby, don’t leave me… how can I live without you… baby…” I couldn’t break free. I looked around for Mike, desperate for help, but he’d vanished. Typical. Just then, I heard gasps from nearby. “Holy crap… isn’t that Ethan Cole? From Cole Enterprises?” “Yeah, it is! What’s he doing? Drunk and clinging to some woman? Is he married? Since when?” Hearing that, I immediately pulled my coat collar up over my face and hissed down at him, “If you don’t want to end up dead in a ditch, get in the car. Now.” Ethan looked up at me, his eyes wide and watery. “Will you leave me again?” He’d never looked at me like this before. I forced myself to stay calm. “No.” “Okay then.” He let me help him up, leaning heavily on me. But after two steps, he stopped, squinting with a sloppy grin. Shamelessly, he slurred, “I can’t walk.” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to deck him right there on the sidewalk. “Then what do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Need my baby close to walk.” I swear, I almost choked. God knows what he’d been drinking, but it clearly wasn’t just alcohol to make him act like this – a sight pathetic enough to make a dog shake its head. Seeing I wasn’t complying, Ethan started to yell again, “Ba— Mmph!” I quickly clamped my hand over his mouth, half-coaxing, half-dragging him into my car. “I must owe you big time from a past life,” I muttered, slamming his door shut. “Where do you live now?” The man in the back seat suddenly went quiet. “I don’t have a home.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Yeah, well,” I scoffed, layering on as much scorn as I could muster, “serves you right, doesn’t it?” He didn’t answer. We sat in silence for a moment. I watched the colorful city lights blur past the window, and a small part of me felt maybe I’d been too harsh. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ethan was already asleep. This damn man! After a moment, I sighed. Might as well take him to the place we used to share. Assuming he hadn’t sold it yet. 2 I drove steadily down into the underground parking garage of our old building. Turning off the ignition, I turned around and gently shook Ethan’s shoulder. “Wake up! We’re here.” No response. Annoyed, I leaned closer, intending to tap his face, but seeing his peaceful expression… I hesitated. This face. I’d touched it thousands of times. Seeing it so close now just felt… wrong. Complicated. While I was lost in thought, Ethan suddenly pulled me into his arms. His breath was hot against my hair as he murmured huskily, “Ava…” For a split second, I was transported back, back to the days when things were good between us, his warm hand sliding onto my waist like a spark on dry tinder. But reality snapped back instantly. I shoved him away with all my strength, glaring. “I knew you weren’t that drunk! Stop pretending! Get up!” He started whining again, a smirk playing on his lips, refusing to get out of the seat like dead weight. Furious, I got out, opened the back door, and tried to physically drag him out. He grabbed my arm, pouting like a child. “Baby, let’s go home together.” I nodded curtly. “Fine. Just get out first.” He obeyed, getting out of the car but keeping a death grip on my hand, giving me no chance to escape. We stumbled towards the elevator, basically attached at the hip. Inside, besides us, were an elderly man and a young woman. They both eyed Ethan clinging to me – the old man shaking his head slightly, the girl stifling a giggle. A mischievous thought popped into my head. I sighed dramatically. “Honestly, honey, you know you have… issues. Why do you drink so much?” I lowered my voice conspiratorially. “Yes, I know you’re hurting, but the doctors said, people with your condition really shouldn’t drink. Look at you, clinging to anyone and calling them ‘baby’. Tsk, tsk. So embarrassing. Looks like I’m stuck with you for life, huh?” Hearing my tall tale, the other two passengers shot me sympathetic looks. As the old man got off on his floor, he patted my shoulder. “You hang in there, dearie. Make sure he gets the help he needs. Don’t give up!” …Guess there are still good people in the world. I felt a little sheepish, but hey, I never claimed to be one of them. Once the elevator reached our old floor, I pushed Ethan towards the apartment door. While he fumbled for his keys – assuming he still had them – I quickly wrenched my hand free and bolted for the stairwell. I ran down two flights, paused to listen – no footsteps pursuing me – then ducked back into the stairwell and took the elevator down to the parking garage. Me? Go back inside that apartment? I just couldn’t find the courage… 3 Ethan and I were married for three years. He was the CEO of Cole Enterprises, a global top 50 company. I was a director at a relatively well-known firm. From the moment we started dating, problems swirled around us – his parents’ disapproval, my friends’ warnings. We weathered it all, or rather, I weathered it all. Somehow, we still got married. No big wedding, no crowds of family and friends. Just the two of us, holding hands on a beach, looking at the blue sky and white clouds. No vows, no tears. It was exactly the kind of wedding I loved. Afterward, Ethan was good to me. For the “coziness” I craved, he bought a separate house, just for us. He called it “home.” Our home. If only time could have stopped there. But feelings, like food, have expiration dates. People talk about the seven-year itch, but sometimes three years is enough to show the cracks. He started getting annoyed when I had late meetings. He hated when I went out for drinks or dinners for networking. He even got jealous if he saw me talking business with a male client outside the office. At first, I found his possessiveness almost… quaint. But over time, it grated on me, becoming suffocating. He tried to use his status to pressure me. He even pulled strings to get my company to fire me. The day it happened, I came home to find the entire living room filled with roses. He’d prepared an elaborate dinner and presented me with a necklace worth a fortune. “Ava,” he’d said, smiling, “welcome home. From now on, I’ll take care of you.” That was the moment my heart turned to ice. He wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife. To give up everything and just be… his. A docile little kitten he could control. He believed he had the power to orchestrate everything – and honestly, he did. But I wasn’t a kitten. If I lost my job, I lost the last shred of standing I had beside him. I couldn’t build my future on love alone, especially not this kind of love. That night, I smashed a wine glass. I started packing a bag, ready to walk out, but Ethan stopped me. And that’s when his true nature, the one lurking beneath the surface, fully emerged. He snatched the suitcase from my hand, threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carried me into the bedroom, and tossed me onto the bed. Then he ripped off his tie and used it to bind my hands securely. “You’re not leaving this house,” he said, his voice cold. I started shaking uncontrollably. He’d never, ever been rough with me like that before. I cried for a long time that night. After that, the smiles disappeared from my life. I screamed, I raged, I threw tantrums day and night, trying desperately to wear down his patience, to make him let me go. He was unbelievably stubborn. Most of the time, he just endured my outbursts in silence. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d kiss me forcefully, silencing me, reminding me who was in control. Eventually, the tears dried up. All I wanted was escape. When he was out, I secretly hid a small paring knife from the kitchen. The next time he came home, I held it to my own wrist. “If you don’t want to see me bleed,” I said, my voice trembling but steady, “let me go.” For the first time, I saw real pain in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to go that far. Or maybe, just maybe, he was tired of the fighting too. After a long, heavy silence, his eyes red, he finally choked out, “Fine.” And just like that, we got divorced. The day we got the papers finalized, I told him, “Ethan, let’s never see each other again.” He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, watching me. I walked away, and he remained standing in the same spot. He hadn’t forgotten. Neither had I. Seeing him tonight brought it all flooding back, drowning us both. But the chasm between us was too deep now. No way forward, no turning back.

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My boyfriend had a female “buddy.” The moment she met me, this girl, Brooke, enthusiastically called me “sis,” said she was a total girl’s girl, and jokingly asked how I could have been so blind to fall for Alex. But that very night, I saw their chat history. She said her boyfriend didn’t want kids, her parents were pressuring her, and she asked my boyfriend, Alex, to be a sperm donor. 【Don’t worry, if you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything, nobody will ever know.】 【Didn’t you always want one before?】 My boyfriend didn’t reply. He told me he had to work late on Valentine’s Day and couldn’t be with me. But then a message came from an unknown number. I looked closely—it was a picture of the two of them together. 1 My boyfriend, Alex, had this super close female “buddy” named Brooke. Sun-kissed skin, a lean build, loved outdoor sports, and was really warm and friendly to everyone. I heard they’d known each other since they were kids, and their bond was incredibly tight. When I first found out about Brooke, I’ll admit, I was a little annoyed, even a bit jealous. I’ve never really bought into the whole “men and women can be just friends” thing, but the moment I met Brooke, I relaxed. It was simple: when she looked at my boyfriend, Alex, her eyes were open and clear, without a hint of romance. Alex, on the other hand, seemed a bit… murky, hard to read. Back then, I didn’t see any red flags. I was head over heels in love, and Brooke’s enthusiasm kind of drew me in too. The moment she saw me, she chirped happily: “Mia’s here! Mia, you look so great today!” Alex, standing nearby, pretended to pout and teased, “How come you’re never this excited to see me? Why all the fuss for Mia?” Brooke winked playfully, came over, and linked her arm through mine. “Because I’m a girl’s girl!” she said. “Mia’s way too gorgeous for you, it’s a shame.” The two of them started goofing around. Watching them, I felt a pang of envy. They really were like a brother and sister. The indulgent look in Alex’s eyes made my heart ache a little, but I told myself I was overthinking. There was clearly nothing going on. And Alex was good to me; I saw that clearly. Alex and I met in high school, went to the same college, and then, naturally, we got together. Brooke was abroad at the time. Alex had barely ever mentioned her to me. Later, I heard from mutual friends that they were childhood sweethearts. I asked him about it, a little jealous, but he just brushed it off. But after that first meeting, I believed they were just friends. After that, whenever we had small get-togethers with friends, they always kept a respectful distance. Brooke had a boyfriend too, Liam. He used to be Alex’s classmate and good buddy. The four of us often hung out together. For Brooke’s birthday, Alex gave her a watch. But at a later party, I noticed Liam wearing that same watch. The moment Alex saw it, he looked a little pissed, but he quickly got it under control. He casually asked Liam, “You like this watch too? Maybe I should get you one?” Liam glanced up lazily. “Matching ones?” Neither of them said anything else, but I definitely saw sparks fly when their eyes met. Alex was clearly unhappy, but Liam had this look I couldn’t decipher. Brooke and I quickly tried to smooth things over. “Liam, come on, give it back. It’s one thing to like it, but don’t provoke him,” Brooke said. I added, “He didn’t mean anything by it, maybe he just really likes it. Don’t be mad, Alex.” Those two never really got along, and I never understood why. But I found out later. Alex had always been secretly in love with Brooke. But he knew Brooke didn’t like him back, so he carefully buried that love deep down. If it couldn’t be Brooke, then anyone else would do. I just got lucky and became his girlfriend. He said yes when I confessed my feelings. I remember being overjoyed for so long. However happy I was then, that’s how miserable I am now. How did I find out? I stumbled upon Alex’s burner account on some social media site. That account was filled with his repressed love for her, dating back years, almost to when the platform first started. He’d been documenting it all. Why was he so furious that day about the watch? Because he’d had that watch custom-made. He’d spent almost three months’ salary on it, just to get Brooke a birthday present. It suddenly hit me that for my birthday a few months earlier, he’d casually bought me a box of lipsticks. All shades I didn’t like. But I was thrilled. I couldn’t bring myself to use them, so I kept them on my vanity, looking at them every day. Thinking back now, I guess in his heart, I wasn’t worthy of his effort. Only Brooke was. 2 My parents always favored my brother. After my brother died in a car accident, my parents seemed to age overnight; their spirits were never the same. My father had an accident at his construction job—he missed a step, they got a small compensation, and then he was gone too. My mom got seriously ill. I was only in college then, working several jobs a day, trying to earn money to save my mom. But it wasn’t enough. Far from it. If Alex hadn’t helped me out, I might not have made it. If he hadn’t pulled me back, I would have jumped from that rooftop. Come to think of it, I really have no right to ask anything of him. My mom told me, with my brother gone, I was all she had. She didn’t want to die; she wanted to live. She said I had to take care of her. But that woman, who always favored him, eventually died from the torment of cancer. What she left me with was all debt. I owed Alex the most. But the person who pulled me from despair was also the one who pushed me back into the abyss. 3 This secret should have stayed buried deep inside me. If I hadn’t seen that message, this fragile peace wouldn’t have been shattered. Alex went to take a shower. His phone was on the table. The moment he stepped in, the screen lit up. I thought it might be an important message and was about to hand him the phone, but I accidentally saw the content. The profile picture was very familiar. The contact name was “Brookie.” I froze. The message content appeared before my eyes, catching me completely off guard: “Don’t worry, if you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything, nobody will ever know.” “Didn’t you always want one before?” As if possessed, I scrolled up. “My parents are pressuring me, and Liam doesn’t want to have kids.” “How about… you help me out?” For a moment, my mind went completely blank. “What are you doing?!” Alex, realizing he hadn’t taken his phone into the bathroom, opened the door and saw me holding it, staring blankly. His skin crawled. Before I could even react, he started yelling at me, “Mia! Who said you could look at my phone!” “I didn’t…” My lips trembled, my face pale. “Didn’t what! Can’t you give me some privacy!” He snatched the phone, saw what was on the screen, froze for a second, then turned his head away, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “You and Brooke…” “There’s nothing going on between us. Don’t overthink it.” “Nothing? If there’s nothing, why is she asking you to be a sperm donor?!” My emotions just snapped, and I couldn’t stop myself from asking. I’ve always been the weaker one in this relationship. But now, I was on the verge of being cheated on in the most bizarre way, and I just couldn’t hold it in. “Don’t you dare slander us! Brooke isn’t like that!” My trembling hand dropped, and I clenched my sleeve. “Then let’s just break up. I’ll make room for her…” “Break up?” He seemed shocked that I’d be so decisive. He gritted his teeth. “Don’t even think about it!” He never would have imagined that I, who always did whatever he said, would be the one to suggest breaking up. “You still owe me so much money, and now you want to break up? You wish!” “If you leave me, who’s going to treat you this well, huh? Your family’s gone. You can only rely on me. Don’t do anything rash, Mia. I’ll handle this…” He seemed to say more, but I couldn’t hear it clearly. He had lit a lamp for me in the darkness, but he could also extinguish my only light with his own hands. He’d been with me through so much; he knew my fears better than anyone. He understood perfectly. That knife plunged into my chest, and even now, it still aches. 4 After that incident, the rift between us never really closed. Having never been favored as a child, I thought meeting Alex was fate’s way of compensating me. Later, I realized the only person who could save me was myself. I was going to break up with him, but not yet. I needed to find the right time, find concrete proof. Soon enough, my chance came. On Valentine’s Day, Alex told me he had to work late at the office. But suddenly, an unknown number added me on a chat app. I accepted the request, and they sent me a picture. I looked closely—it was a photo of Alex and Brooke together. They were incredibly close, looking like they were about to kiss. My heart pounded. The person sent an address, and I rushed over there without a second thought. When I got there, it was a restaurant. I went inside and immediately spotted Brooke and Alex. They both looked stunned when they saw me. Then Brooke smiled graciously, naturally took my arm, and had me sit down. Alex, however, was frowning hard. He muttered, “What are you doing here?” I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be working late?” “So this is…” “Enough! Mia, haven’t you made enough of a scene!” “Alex, how can you talk to Mia like that!” Brooke, seeing things were escalating, interjected, “They’re here now, it’s not appropriate for you to yell.” I looked up. Alex’s mom had arrived, and with her was an unfamiliar middle-aged woman. It must have been Brooke’s mother. I had no idea what was going on and felt completely on edge. Alex’s mom never liked me. She thought I wasn’t good enough for Alex, that I was marrying up. That was pretty standard. Her ideal daughter-in-law was Brooke. The moment she saw me there, her face fell. “This is a family dinner. What are you doing here?” She tilted her chin up haughtily, looking down her nose at me. “Auntie, Mia’s here, so she’s here. The more the merrier,” Brooke said, trying to smooth things over and giving me a subtle look. As soon as Alex’s mom saw Brooke, her expression relaxed instantly, and they started chatting warmly. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought Brooke was Alex’s girlfriend. I felt completely out of place, so I made an excuse and went to the restroom. 5 “Mia, there’s really nothing between me and Alex,” Brooke started to say as she followed me. “What are you telling her?” Alex had followed too, cutting her off. “What are you telling me?” I looked at the well-matched pair, tears streaming down my face. “Asking anyone else would have been one thing, but you? You think I don’t know what that means? Why don’t you two just be together and let me go, okay?” “Alex, stop trying to have it all. I’ll pay you back every cent I owe you.” “What?” Brooke looked completely baffled, staring at us in confusion. I sneered inwardly. Still pretending? You cheating scumbags! “Haven’t you made enough of a scene!” Alex grabbed my arm tightly, but I violently shook him off. “You still don’t know?” I looked at Brooke. Might as well let it all out now. “Him, Alex, he’s been secretly in love with you! For who knows how long!” “Every single day and night he’s been with me, he’s been thinking about you!” “He even has a secret account, it’s all about you! That watch of yours? Do you know why he was so mad that day? He spent three months’ salary on it for you!” Brooke stumbled back in disbelief. “I rejected him…” “Rejected what? Who was it asking him on the phone to be a sperm donor?” “What nonsense are you spouting!” Alex lunged forward, grabbing my face. I couldn’t break free. His face was contorted with rage, utterly furious. The secret he’d hidden for so long, I’d just blurted it all out. You couldn’t blame me. For all I knew, they’d been sneaking around behind my back for ages. “Don’t you slander us! You want to break up? No way!” He shoved me away hard and turned to explain to Brooke. But to everyone’s surprise, Brooke, looking completely distraught, backed away, then slowly helped me up from the floor where I’d been thrown. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, filled with utter disappointment and panic. “Mia… believe me…”

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At fifty-nine, I found myself pregnant again. More than twenty years ago, when we froze my eggs, my husband, John, and I were struggling financially. We hoped that after years of hard work, when things finally looked up, we could welcome a new life. But when that day finally arrived, I decided to personally end this hard-won fruit of our love. I was mesmerized, staring at the video. The woman in it, her silver hair framing a pretty face now streaked with tears, had just finished reading hundreds of handwritten letters from John. She covered her face, crying with regret, lamenting all the missed chances with John, shattering the last filter on what I thought was my perfect family. This false perfection? I’d rather not have it. 01 Just two weeks into the pregnancy, I was idly scrolling through short videos. The algorithm was scarily accurate; my husband’s name, “John Smith,” made my swiping finger pause. The woman in the video, though her hair was white, still possessed a gentle charm: “Johnny, we’ve missed so many years! You have no idea how hard I’ve looked for you!” Her face was full of regret as she covered it and wept. The vlogger’s schtick was man-on-the-street interviews, specifically asking elderly people about their life regrets and stories. The star of this particular video, a woman named Sylvia Shaw, was talking about her “one that got away.” At the beginning of the video, she confidently introduced herself and recounted her unforgettable past with my husband, John. She said they grew up together, and even back then, they’d had a mutual understanding. But because they were young, neither had confessed their feelings. It wasn’t until her family had a sudden upheaval and moved away, without a chance for goodbyes, that she lost the opportunity to tell that young man, “I like you.” With no contact information, that accident became a permanent separation. This young man became her “great lost love,” and because of him, she said, she never married, always waiting for him. Just as I was sighing at this woman’s one-sided devotion, the video continued: The vlogger, chasing views and authenticity, had managed to find the man Sylvia spoke of—my husband, John. When they met, they stood speechless, tears streaming down their faces. John’s eyes were filled with the pain and regret of years apart. After a daze lasting more than half a minute, prompted by the host, John handed Sylvia a thick stack of letters. He said he’d written them to her over the years but, not knowing her address, couldn’t send them. Now, finally, he could put them in her hands. The stack was so thick it took two hands to hold it steady; there must have been hundreds of them. Meaning, in the forty or fifty years they’d been apart, he’d written several love letters to Sylvia Shaw every year. Deep in emotion, John read a few of them aloud: “It’s the third year since we parted. I’ve met many girls, but only you remain forever in my memory.” “Sylvia, where on earth did you go? When will I ever see you again…” … “My family’s pushing me to go on blind dates. Sylvia, I can’t wait for you anymore.” “We talked about grocery shopping together, cooking together, enjoying the simple life, seeing the world together.” “But you broke our promise. Maybe in the next life, we’ll be together.” That was the year I met him on a blind date. He was 28, I was 22. So, his quick decision to marry me after knowing me for only six months wasn’t because he approved of me, but a casual move after failing to marry the girl he truly desired. Time moved on, and he picked up a few letters with clearer handwriting: “Today, Katherine asked me to take her to Paris. I said no.” “That was the romantic city you yearned for after seeing the magazine I gave you. How could I possibly go with another woman?” At that time, John’s business had just hit its first major success, and our daughter was on summer vacation. I’d never been abroad and wanted John to show me the world. He’d just made an excuse about being busy and flatly refused me. I never imagined the real reason was that he was saving that romantic scenery for someone else. “Sylvia, I was very sick recently. I thought I was going to die.” “But during the most painful part of my surgery, your face was the only thing in my mind.” “I don’t want to die. Maybe we can still meet in this life, just like before, sitting on the bridge at the edge of town, watching the sunset together. Then, I’d have no regrets.” That year, he was fifty-seven, I was fifty-one. He had a liver cyst, and it was indeed serious. He was in so much pain he couldn’t get out of bed. The doctor said it was a good thing they found it early, or he might not have made it. During the months of chemo, I stayed by his bedside every day, bathing him, washing his things, feeding him three meals a day. Only after the nurses’ shift change at 4 a.m. would I go home to take care of the elderly members of our family. So, when I was hunched over, feeding him, was he thinking about when he could have romantic moments with her again? How laughable. By the time John read the last letter, he was sobbing uncontrollably: “When I got that anonymous call saying you’d been waiting for me all this time, I was in a daze for a long while.” “Is it really you, Sylvia?” “Only then did I realize you’d been waiting for me. I’m the one who failed you.” This letter was dated June 2021. I clicked to check the video’s release date—December 20, 2021. So, the video was incredibly popular, but since I rarely used my phone, I was only seeing it now. This timing also reminded me. It was around then that my husband, John, started taking more frequent long trips, claiming he was scouting new projects. He’d be gone for a month or more at a time. Oh, God, why only let me see this now? 02 When I met my husband, I had just become a teacher in a small town. Upon first meeting me, he was full of praise for my profession: “A woman who teaches is wonderful, well-read and reasonable. Just my type.” Little did I know that this compliment, which made me happy for so long, wasn’t for me. It was because teaching was Sylvia’s dream. He was always looking for her shadow. If he couldn’t find someone similar, he’d look for a similar status or profession. Two years after we married, I got pregnant. Because there were so many chores at home and my in-laws needed care, my husband, John, persuaded me to quit my job. He appealed to my emotions and reason, saying the family couldn’t manage without me. He would be the one braving the business world; he hoped his wife would simply be a smiling presence at home, taking care of him and our child. Because I loved him, I did as he asked. That was the exact year I was due for a permanent position and promotion, my only chance for a tenured teaching spot. Over the years, John went from a junior employee to a manager. And now, using my family’s savings to start a business together, he had opened more than ten chain stores, becoming a respected boss. And I, once a pampered girl who’d never done a day’s hard labor, had become a worn-out housewife with calloused hands. My daily life was a three-point circuit: kitchen, grocery store, granddaughter’s preschool. Occasionally, I’d have to drive over fifteen miles to pick up a dead-drunk John and carry him home. My monotonous thirty-plus years were swallowed by trivialities. Meanwhile, John was successful, a respectable chain store owner and investor. He was even rejuvenated by the undying spark of love in his heart. It was already dark when John pushed open the door. This man standing in the dim entryway, whom I’d lived with for nearly forty years—today, I couldn’t see him clearly at all. “Why isn’t dinner ready yet, Kate?” John’s voice, as he entered, broke my train of thought. Only then did I realize it was almost seven in the evening. Usually, when John came home at this time, I would have dinner cooked, his bathwater ready. All he had to do was eat, bathe, and rest. But today, I hadn’t managed to do anything, and John’s face was already showing some displeasure. “Can we eat out tonight? I’m not feeling well.” I dragged my heavy body up and replied faintly. “Eat out? Are you kidding, Kate? In my condition, can I eat out?” “What’s wrong with you today? Isn’t the baby still small? You should still be able to cook, right?” John finally let his gaze rest on my face. His furrowed brow and impatient expression met mine, and only then did I remember: for so many years, he’d been obsessed with his health, especially his diet. Particularly after his recent surgery, he’d bought me stacks of medical books, demanding I follow them to create the best meal plans for him. Breakfast had to be chicken liver congee and white fungus egg custard. The chicken liver had to be bought at 5 a.m. from a farmer in a remote area, the freshest available, sliced into fine shreds, and simmered for an hour. The white fungus had to be the plumpest, most flawless pieces, hand-torn into small bits, and simmered with egg for exactly forty-five minutes. Not a minute more, not a minute less, or John would say it lost its original flavor and nutrition. Lunch and dinner were a bit easier; I could cook them normally. But John would only eat food cooked with olive oil. Where would our small town have culinary olive oil? I had to spend hours online researching, finally picking a reliable online store for long-term purchases. Actually, when he was discharged, the doctor had only said to eat less oil and salt; he wasn’t nearly this particular. “Oh, Kate, I’ve told you I only like your cooking.” “Never mind anything else, just go make dinner, please. Thanks for your hard work, my Kate.” Seeing I didn’t respond, John simply started talking while nudging me towards the kitchen. He himself didn’t stay a moment longer, turning around to sit on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, an occasional dazed smile on his face. John used to be generous with praise for my cooking. Only now did I realize those words were actually commands coated in honey. Even if you were unwilling, he’d force you to comply. I didn’t want to hear it anymore. I closed the kitchen door and opened a food delivery app. While waiting for the delivery, I booked a doctor’s appointment for the next day. “What’s this, Kate? You weren’t cooking in there? Why did you order takeout?” John, holding the just-delivered food, pushed open the kitchen door, somewhat annoyed. “I’m tired today. Just once, let’s have takeout.” “These are dishes we eat all the time. Young people eat this stuff daily; one time won’t hurt.” I took the takeout and sat down at the table, starting to eat by myself. As I ate, listening to John’s unhappy complaints, tears welled up uncontrollably. In my thirty-plus years with John, despite life’s hardships, I’d considered myself quite happy and fulfilled. After I quit my job, he focused on his career, and I took care of the home. In his words, I was the best kind of supportive wife. In my memory, though he was mostly a busy figure, he had never raised his voice at me. I thought we were a model couple, admired by the neighbors, because of our mutual understanding and support. But in the end, the truth was, I had never truly entered his heart, which created the illusion of a harmonious “respectful as guests” marriage. These thirty-plus years of “happiness” were like an empty mirror, now completely shattered. Tears blurred my vision, and my heart felt like a stormy sea. Finally, all my grievances poured out. I put down my chopsticks and started to wail. My hands unconsciously beat against the man before me. John was shocked by my outburst, staring at me helplessly, asking what on earth was wrong. I stared at this man before me, who couldn’t “see” my heart at all. I felt as if all my energy had been drained, and everything seemed utterly meaningless. I opened the video I had saved earlier, turned the volume to maximum, and demanded a pointless explanation. Before it even reached the most dramatic part—John’s heartfelt confessions—he snatched the phone away: “Who sent this to you? What’s so interesting about it!” “It’s just reminiscing about an old friend from childhood, nothing to explain.” “Can’t I have female friends?” “When you were young, you had tons of male friends around you!” “Besides, you can see this video is from years ago.” “And you know young people in business these days, who doesn’t play around with the internet?” “I was just cooperating with the vlogger for some traffic. It’s all in the past. What are you trying to do?” “Sylvia and I, we did have some feelings, but that’s over.” “If you’re going to make a fuss about it now, you’re in the wrong. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and found Sylvia, have you?” “I’m warning you, I won’t allow you to disturb her!” At this moment, John showed no trace of guilt. His eyes wide with anger only told me one thing: he only cared about her. In this whole affair, as the wife, my entanglement and accusations—he was never worried about my pain, only about Sylvia Shaw’s well-being. This argument, one of the few in our half-lifetime together, ended with the harsh sound of John slamming the door as he left. 03 He didn’t come back that night, and I didn’t ask. The next day, I woke up very early and went to see the doctor I had already scheduled.

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“Chris, don’t hold back…” It was late, deep in the night. The naked, mature woman on the bed, her body arced, looked back at me. She kept pressing her rounded bottom against me, her plump lips slightly parted, her eyes hazy with a desire that seemed to melt everything it touched. Just twenty-four hours ago, I couldn’t have dreamed I’d conquer my lush, ripe mother-in-law and have her beneath me… My name is Chris Lee, a twenty-five-year-old married man. Lately, I’d been in a bind. My petite wife, Sophia, simply couldn’t handle how uncommonly well-endowed I was, and my stamina was insatiable. I’d be restless if I didn’t let off steam for a single day. Each time felt like a forced encounter, pushing Sophia to the point of rolling her eyes, just to find some relief. The result? In less than a month, her lips had swollen by a noticeable amount. It even caught the attention of my mother-in-law, Danielle Reed—Dani. Dani was my immediate superior at work, and she was the one who introduced Sophia to me. Initially, she thought I was a jerk and was fiercely protective of her daughter. Only later, once she understood the reason for Sophia’s predicament, did she feel a little awkward facing me. That day, I was in my office, trying to figure out how to develop Sophia’s oral skills, when my phone suddenly rang. It was Dani. She wanted me to see her. I knocked on her office door. After hearing a faint, “Come in,” I turned the doorknob. The first thing I saw was Dani bent over, her backside jutting out as she organized items in a cardboard box. Her ample, round backside swayed gently with her movements. “You’re here,” she said without lifting her head. Clearly, she recognized my footsteps. She nodded towards the sofa nearby. “Have a seat for a moment while I finish up.” I didn’t reply, walking straight to the sofa and sitting down, my gaze fixed on her back. I instinctively swallowed. If memory served, Dani was exactly forty this year, in the prime of her allure. Unlike my small wife, Dani, at five feet six inches, was a fitness enthusiast. She maintained a stunning figure, a classic pear shape—sensuous and alluring. What’s more, she was wearing a form-fitting dress today. Her full, generous hips stretched the cotton fabric taut, and the faint purple edge of her lace thong was visible, tightly embracing and shaping her twin, full-moon-like buttocks. Her body was so overtly sexual, it made you instantly want to ruthlessly claim her. “Ma’am, let me help you.” I started walking towards Dani. But I don’t know what possessed me. As I passed her, my hand, as if guided by mischievous spirits, lifted and smacked her beautiful backside. She froze for a moment, her voice laced with disbelief. “What are you doing?” “My… my butt… your butt was just too tempting,” I stammered, barely coherent. “I couldn’t control myself.” Dani’s face flushed crimson. She stood up and pinched my waist hard. “You’re out of control… Can’t get enough of your own wife, so you’re trying to compensate with your mother-in-law, huh?” I let out a cry of pain. Seeing she wasn’t genuinely angry, I followed her lead and continued to tease. “What’s wrong with a little touch? If the daughter isn’t up to the task, the mother has a responsibility to help her son-in-law let off some steam…” “Pffft, pffft, you pervert… choke on it,” Dani scoffed lightly, lowering her head to continue organizing the box. She seemed oblivious to the fact that her open neckline revealed her smooth, fair cleavage. “Later, help me carry these materials home.” Some time ago, Dani had mentioned she had a lot of books to take home but couldn’t manage them herself. I readily agreed, helping her load several boxes into my car, then driving her home. “Put them next to the bookshelf in the bedroom,” she instructed. I followed Dani’s instructions, carrying a large box into the bedroom. As I stood up, I didn’t watch my step and tripped on a slipper on the floor, stumbling a few paces before falling onto the bed. Looking down, I saw a length of black lace peeking out from under the pillow. Was this… a thong? As if possessed, I moved the pillow and discovered a flesh-colored, realistic vibrator underneath. It was a large one, too. I wouldn’t have guessed. Dani was this hungry for release? The thought of my sexy, alluring, widowed mother-in-law having to rely on this to fill herself left me feeling a little… unsettled. Tap, tap, tap… Just as I was lost in thought, Dani’s high heels sounded behind me. When she saw what was in my hand, she immediately panicked. She snatched the toy, shoved it back under the pillow, and tried to push me out of the bedroom. “I can handle the rest myself, you can go home now!” Looking at Dani’s shy, seductive face, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I reached out and embraced her. “You… you brute… you’re like a wild stallion,” Dani struggled a few times, her face flushed, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She completely melted in my arms. If I hadn’t been holding her, she would have collapsed to the floor. So sensitive? My heart hardened. Seizing the moment, I captured her lips with mine, while one hand moved downwards, ruthlessly rubbing her soft, voluptuous bottom. Then I tugged at her dress, rolling it up to her waist. My fingers grazed the edge of her lace underwear, where her glutes met her thighs, caught by the yielding flesh. “Chris! You…” Dani cried my name, her voice barely a whisper squeezed from her throat. “I’m… I’m your mother-in-law… not your wife…” “Tonight, you’re my wife.” I was afraid if I hesitated, this golden opportunity would vanish. I leaned in again. She struggled fiercely. As I tried to push her onto the bed, she bent her knee and pressed it against my stomach, pushing my neck with her hands, instantly separating us. At the same time, she twisted sideways to break free, but her legs wobbled, and she nearly fell to the floor. “Careful…” I quickly scooped her waist, my hand re-entering her dress, pinning her against the bed. Dani scratched my back fiercely. “Get your hand out.” “No!” I half-closed my eyes, enduring the stinging pain, feeling the warm, slick softness of her large bottom under my palm. Slowly, deliberately, I continued to toy with her curves. The intense body heat radiating through the lace fabric filled me with an almost unbearable urge. “Still moving!” Dani’s voice was laced with a hint of a whimper. “Do you think just because I use… that thing, you can just do whatever you want with me…” With that, she bit down hard on my shoulder, punching my neck and back. I panicked, immediately trying to kiss her eyes. Sure enough, there were wet tear tracks. “Don’t touch me like that anymore!” Dani turned her head away. She was already a mature woman, yet she could show such maidenly bashfulness. I didn’t dare to cross the line again. I kissed her mouth, teasing her slippery, retreating tongue. “Mm… hmm?” Dani blinked, her striking hands paused, seeming a little helpless. After a long moment, she broke free and asked in a mix of shyness and indignation, “Are you done touching?” Only then did I remember that both my hands were still beneath Dani’s dress, kneading her, having even slipped inside her panties. “Is there ever ‘done touching’ this?” I replied mischievously. Dani said nothing, just bit me again. This time, though, it was much lighter. “Stop messing around…” “I’m not messing around. Let me touch you for a little longer.” “Do you want me to bite you more?” “Can you bite somewhere else?” I thrust my lower body, pressing against the delta between her legs.

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My girlfriend’s name was Celeste, and she worked as a preschool teacher at a private school near my place. Curvaceous with a tiny waist, her figure was incredible, and she had a naturally adorable face. Maybe it was her profession, but she often spoke in a sweet, almost childlike voice. But her private side was a stark contrast. She was incredibly skilled, highly adventurous, and always eager to take the lead. The amazing experiences made me abandon any thoughts of just playing around and bailing. I decided to commit to her for the long haul. Then, three months into our relationship, she decided to upgrade our game… “So, would you be willing to go camping with Veronica and her boyfriend?” “When we get there, we’ll do a blindfolded draw to see who sleeps with whom?” 01 A blindfolded draw? Was this leading to a swap? I jolted at the thought, Veronica’s image immediately flashing in my mind. She was Celeste’s colleague and her best friend. The private preschool in my neighborhood charged over fifty thousand dollars a year in tuition. People with just a few bucks couldn’t even dream of buying a house in the school district, let alone afford the tuition. However, successful single dads like me, who owned their own companies and had sons, were a common sight there. Preschools of this caliber really understood their clientele. So, the quality of the teachers was top-notch, all of them stunning beauties, and Veronica was no exception. She had a different vibe than Celeste. Celeste sported long, flowing waves, exuding a rich, feminine charm, while Veronica had a sharp, shoulder-length bob, appearing ice-cold and utterly unapproachable. When Celeste and I officially started dating, we’d agreed from the beginning—due to asset protection—that we wouldn’t marry and that we’d have an open relationship. Simply put, as long as we stayed healthy, there would be no judgment or restrictions on what we did. I knew Celeste was adventurous, but Veronica, behind her prim facade, was also this open-minded? If it really played out as I imagined, if I could have that constantly aloof, haughty Veronica beneath me… Hiss… Just thinking about it, I felt a familiar stir. “Hey, are you in or not? Why are you dragging your feet?” Celeste grew impatient, habitually stamping her foot, her brows furrowed. Her entire body swayed with the motion. “I talked to Veronica for ages before she finally agreed.” She settled beside me, her hand sliding onto my thigh, her eyes playful: “Veronica says her boyfriend is really good…” “Oh? Better than me?” My competitive spirit flared. “I don’t know, let’s test it out?” Her fingers began to gently knead my thigh. The teasing made my skin tingle. I scooped her up, tossing her onto the bed, and growled: “Time for you to learn a lesson!” “Ah~” She gasped, tumbling onto the mattress, then wrapped her legs around me, gracefully arching into an S-shape, beckoning with her fingers: “Come on~ please, make me learn a real lesson~” After a long battle, I was covered in sweat, exhausted. I slapped her playfully. “Did you remember?” Celeste released the tightly clutched bedsheet and spat out the pillowcase, now bearing teeth marks. She weakly murmured, “I remembered… Get me some water, my throat’s hoarse.” I poured her a glass of water, cupped her chin, and asked, “When are we going camping?” “Let me ask…” She took a sip, pulled out her phone, typed away furiously, and soon received a reply. “Tomorrow?” she asked. “Alright,” I said, standing up. “Tomorrow, Veronica’s gonna learn a lesson too!” She smiled faintly, typed a few more rapid replies, then turned her phone screen towards me. On the screen, Veronica had replied: “Is your man any good? Don’t tell me he’s a tiny shrimp.” “He’s good,” Celeste replied. “Just got ‘schooled’ by him, I’m practically paralyzed.” Veronica sent a blushing emoji: “I’m starting to look forward to tomorrow.” With Veronica’s image filling my mind, I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I grabbed my own phone, about to check my calendar, when Celeste quickly added, “I already checked the date for you. It’s a good day for travel.” This was something I had to see for myself. I opened my phone anyway, checking the date. Celeste hadn’t lied. It was indeed a favorable day. I began to anticipate it too. 02 To ensure I was at my best, I made an exception and didn’t “trouble” Celeste, going to bed early. I woke up at the crack of dawn the next day. While I was shaving and getting ready in the bathroom, Celeste groggily stirred, a sarcastic tone in her voice: “Oh, trimming those stubble? You never bothered when I complained they scratched me, but now that you’re spending the night with Veronica, you suddenly care?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, a clear scent of jealousy in the air. I stopped shaving, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I looked at her. “Who was it that cried out last night when those stubble grazed them?” “Go to hell!” She feigned anger, grabbing a pillow and flinging it at me. An hour later, she was finally ready too. She’d applied beautiful makeup, put in daily disposable contacts, and even affixed sparkling star stickers to the corners of her eyes. Her long, wavy hair was swept entirely to the right, revealing her left ear adorned with the dangling earrings I’d given her. Her figure-hugging pencil skirt perfectly showcased her assets as a woman. On her feet were Valentino heels paired with Balenciaga sheer stockings, making her look irresistibly seductive. This time, it was my turn to feel a pang of envy. “Hey, you haven’t worn that outfit in ages, have you?” I complained. “I’ve asked you to wear it before, and you always said it was too much trouble. But today, you suddenly don’t mind?” “Hmph~” She tilted her chin, annoyed. “You’re allowed to get dolled up, but I’m not?” I moved closer, wrapped an arm around her waist, and lifted her. “What are you doing~” She demurely squirmed, a token resistance. “Back to the bedroom, for another round,” I stated calmly. “Are you sure?” She wiggled her hips, hooking her arms around my neck, leaning entirely against me. “I’m telling you, Veronica has a much higher drive than me. If you empty your ‘clip’ on me, I don’t care, but if she’s disappointed, there won won’t be a next time.” As she spoke, she picked up her phone, opened her chat with Veronica, and tapped on a photo. “She’s wearing this today~” The image clearly showed a wine-red camisole dress! The dress was incredibly minimal, only covering the front, leaving her entire back exposed until just above the waist, where the fabric picked up again before falling to mid-thigh. Just looking at it, I could imagine that anyone wearing it would have their entire back visible. With Veronica’s demeanor and figure, in that dress… Hiss… I sucked in a sharp breath, involuntarily releasing Celeste. “Aha! You really can’t resist temptation!” She playfully slapped me. “You haven’t even seen her yet, just a picture of a dress, and you’re already twitching with anticipation?” I awkwardly scratched my head. “A man has his limits, and good steel is best used on the blade.” Her face immediately fell. “What do you mean, ‘good steel is best used on the blade’? Are you implying I’m the dull blade?” “No, no, no, my bad, my mouth just ran away from me…” I quickly mollified her with a few sweet words. This time, perhaps filled with her own anticipation, she unusually didn’t demand a gift to appease her. Instead, she grabbed my hand, skipping out the door. With a heart pounding with excitement, I dragged our suitcases to the town square, where I finally met Veronica and her boyfriend. Veronica stood there, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, the red ribbon tying it braided into a tiny pigtail that blended with her hair. She wore the dress from the photo, its wine-red fabric highlighting her alabaster skin, which gleamed strikingly in the sunlight. Her feet, shod in wine-red heels, exhibited near-perfect curves, utterly sensual. The man beside her, dragging a suitcase, clearly exercised regularly, a lean body that filled clothes nicely but was all muscle underneath. Yet, standing next to her, he seemed almost ordinary. Celeste zipped out of the car, practically ran to Veronica, and hugged her. The two then intimately linked arms, whispering to each other. Just their presence there drew the eyes of every man in the square. I guessed every guy there wanted to conquer both of them. I grinned internally in the car. After all, tonight, I might just achieve the ultimate fantasy every man dreamed of. Filled with anticipation, the two finally finished their whispers and walked towards my car. 03 After we loaded the luggage, the man settled into the passenger seat, and the two women, still inseparable, squeezed into the back. They kept their voices low, chatting about something, occasionally bursting into laughter. To join the conversation, I feigned curiosity. “Hey, Veronica, I remember you had short hair. How’d it get so long after just a few days?” Called out, Veronica’s lips twitched, her expression immediately chilling. She reached up, unclipped her hair, and with a soft tug, the entire ponytail came off! “Celeste said you liked ponytails, so I ordered this wig online,” her voice remained icy. “If you don’t like it, I don’t have to wear it.” “No, no, no!” I quickly explained. “I love it, I really do.” “Hmph!” Veronica let out a cold snort, clipping the ponytail back onto her head. The atmosphere suddenly turned awkward. Celeste quickly leaned forward, pouting playfully, “Leo~ What about my outfit~ Do you like it?” “Love it, love it…” Leo, in the passenger seat, nodded repeatedly, grinning like a fool. I glanced at Veronica in the rearview mirror. She had both hands raised, head bowed, busy re-attaching her ponytail. The alabaster skin of her arms and shoulders, the deep curve of her collarbone, and the arch of her neck, all seemed like a cheerleading squad of hundreds screaming out her feminine allure. As if sensing my gaze, she let out a cold hmph, looked up, and met my eyes in the rearview mirror. Then, her lips twitched. “Tch…” Her disdain was palpable. Damn it, what was she putting on an act for! I’d seen her chat logs with Celeste; she wasn’t this cold then. Was she cold before the fact, and then all sweetness once things got hot? I let out a cold laugh in return, gripping the steering wheel tighter. The more she acted like this, the more it fueled my competitive spirit. When we drew lots tonight, if I picked her, I would shatter that icy goddess façade! Soon, the car reached the base of the mountain and parked. For this camping trip, Celeste had chosen a secluded, barely-traveled mountain. From the base to the summit, it would normally take at least two hours to hike. But with two women, it would take much longer. They stopped frequently to take selfies. What I didn’t expect, however, was that after passing halfway up the mountain, as we neared the camping area, something unexpected happened. Veronica revealed another side of herself that no one knew.

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My husband wasn’t able to satisfy me anymore. He knew I needed more, so he proposed an unconventional solution: a strong, single man. That tall, powerfully built athlete allowed me to rediscover that mind-blowing pleasure, making me feel alive again… My name is Maya, and I teach dance. Ever since the summer I turned eighteen, when I gave my virginity as a gift to my then-boyfriend, now husband, I truly awakened to the boundless desires within me. Back then, his own passion was just as fiery; he’d keep me pinned beneath him, making love four or five times a night. But after we got married and started our careers, he gradually grew more strained, often rushing things and spending less than ten minutes on foreplay. For the past six months, he hadn’t managed to satisfy me even once. That night, after yet another dull session, he exhaled a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, pulling out a few tissues to wipe me down. “That was a bit quick. Did you… get there?” I let out a soft moan, feigning contentment as I hugged him. “Of course, you were amazing.” I played along, eager to lull him to sleep so I could slip off to the bathroom and take care of myself. My body still felt suspended mid-air, an invisible hand tickling at my core, an agonizing burn between my legs. Once his breathing evened out, I quietly slid out of bed, opened my dresser drawer, and pulled out a skin-toned vibrating massager. I tiptoed into the bathroom. It was late tonight, so I had to be quick. I set the toy to a high setting, and my whole body felt like it was being lifted. I clapped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle my cries. Afterward, I carefully put my little helper away. A wave of sadness washed over me. Sigh. Am I destined to spend my life with a massager? I cleaned up, slipped into my lace nightgown, and returned to bed. My husband suddenly rolled over and wrapped his arms around me. “Sweetheart, how about I find a single man for you?” My heart seized up. He knew. “What are you talking about? Go to sleep!” I couldn’t sleep that night. On one hand, I was worried he’d found out about my little toy and feared hurting his pride. On the other, his suggestion stirred a torrent of restless thoughts. I enjoyed watching explicit films occasionally, and scenes of intense intimacy involving multiple partners always sparked fantasies. But what did my husband mean by that? Was he trying to trick me? I decided I couldn’t bring it up myself; it would make it seem like I was eager for it. But my husband wasn’t just talking. Two evenings later, right after dinner, he casually said, “How about you come with me to meet a friend later?” “Sure,” I replied, clearing the table. “The kind of friend I mentioned the other day. A single man.” Caught completely off guard, I froze. “What are you talking about? Are you actually serious about… letting someone else into our marriage?” He stood up, hugged me from behind, and spoke gently but firmly. “Maya, you’re in the prime of your desires right now, your needs are growing, but I’m slowing down. I might never be able to fully satisfy you.” “But we can’t be reckless! I’m not that desperate!” “Don’t worry. I’ve looked into a few athletes. We’ll try one tonight. I’m sure he’ll make you happy.” “You’re serious?” I was dazed, but his tone wasn’t joking. My heart fluttered, but I didn’t want him to see my flushed face, so I grabbed the dishes and escaped to the kitchen. My husband was truly going through with it, and as a woman, I found it hard to question him further. My mind churned, feeling like a puppet as he took my hand and led me out the door. On the way to the hotel, my steps felt ethereal, my mind completely numb. It wasn’t until he checked us into a room and told me to shower first that I snapped back to reality. I grabbed his hand. “Husband, is this really okay?” He patted my hand. “Trust me. Let go of your worries. Just enjoy the pleasure.” Those four words, “enjoy the pleasure,” held a magic that easily shattered my emotional defenses. My husband always knew how to break down my walls; he’d gotten me into bed after only a few dates, and it was still the same now. In the shower, I thoroughly washed myself, just as I had the first time I went to a hotel with him. Doing the same thing again brought a whirlpool of emotions, an unidentifiable mix of feelings. After cleaning, I picked a plain black lingerie set from my change of clothes, worried he might think I’d dressed up too much. When I put on the hotel robe, my husband pulled me into his arms. “Sweetheart, every time you put on that classic, elegant wife look, you absolutely mesmerize me.” I nestled quietly against him, my heart thumping wildly, my mind fixated on the stranger I was about to meet. I looked up, testing the waters. “Husband, that man…” I trailed off shyly, clutching his robe. He patted my behind, whispering, “He’s already in the elevator.” The moment the words left his lips, the doorbell rang. I almost leaped up, frantically asking my husband, “Where should I stand?” I knew it was a stupid question, but at that moment, I truly didn’t know what to do. My husband didn’t answer but kissed me. “Darling, I’ll always love you!” That sentence eased half my tension, but the other half still made my heart feel like it would burst from my throat. Seeing my uneasy expression, he kissed me again, then went to open the door. A powerfully built young man stood at the entrance, even taller than my six-foot-tall husband. He was a towering figure, completely blocking out the hallway light. “Let me introduce you. This is Liam. And this is my wife, Maya.” “Ma’am, you’re beautiful,” Liam said, offering me a gift he’d brought. His eyes gleamed with excitement and a raw hunger; clearly, my appearance and figure had pleased him greatly. “You… hello,” I managed, nodding, staring at the man who would soon enter my body. Blood rushed to my face, hot and burning. I struggled to suppress my nervousness. My husband, however, calmly accepted the gift. “Thoughtful of you. Why don’t you go ahead and shower?” “Alright, sir.” My husband took my hand and had me sit beside him. One hand stroked my hair, while the other slipped under my robe, caressing my full breasts. He leaned closer, speaking into my ear. “Relax, sweetheart. Let your body surrender to desire. I just want you to be happy.” His touch left me in a delicious haze, my mind flashing with exciting images. My husband was about to say more when the bathroom door opened. Liam emerged, wrapped only in a towel, revealing his sculpted muscles. His gaze swept over me, lingering particularly on my breasts, which my husband was still caressing, and my thighs. I didn’t actually feel any aversion to Liam’s gaze. From the moment he entered the room, I knew my husband had chosen a man to my liking: tall, strong, and powerful. “You two get acquainted. I’ll go take a shower too.” My husband left the room to me and Liam, stepping into the bathroom. Watching his back, I instinctively clutched my chest. Anticipating what was about to happen, I felt a warm, dark current surge through my body. “Ma’am, may I sit next to you?” “Mm-hmm.” I replied, my voice barely a whisper, shifting slightly to make room. Liam slowly moved closer, so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheek, sending shivers through me. “Ma’am, you smell wonderful. May I touch you?” he asked softly. “Mm-hmm.” This time, my voice was a little louder. Perhaps my compliance emboldened Liam. He skipped the tentative steps, directly reaching out to touch my breast. He was far more skilled at teasing a woman than he looked. He started by stroking over the robe, and seeing no resistance, his hand slowly slipped inside. The stranger’s hand felt warm and heavy. The moment it brushed my breast, my legs instinctively pressed together. There was even a hint of pleasure. I involuntarily closed my eyes, letting out a satisfied sigh. Seeing my reaction, Liam immediately leaned in to kiss me, his tongue deftly exploring my mouth. At first, I felt a touch of shyness, but in the face of my surging desires, I quickly succumbed, actively engaging in the passionate kiss. Our tongues tangled together, fiercely and wildly. He was fervent from start to finish, and I gradually caught fire, burning uncontrollably. My body, initially tense with nervousness, slowly relaxed. I had to brace myself with my hands on the bed to maintain balance. My reaction clearly encouraged him. His movements grew bolder. One hand kneaded my thigh, gently untied my robe’s belt, and slowly moved upward towards my inner thigh. The other hand unhooked my bra, gently laying me back on the bed, his head descending to bury itself in my chest. “Mmm…” I shuddered, instinctively arching my chest. In that instant, I felt my soul soar. Even without intimate contact, my body held almost no secrets from him. And the switch for my desires was on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t satisfied, though. His warm, moist tongue slid down along my full curves, his fingers hooking the sides of my panties, gently pulling them down. “Give it to me…” My mind reeled. I was panting heavily, drenched in sweat, throwing my head back, and actively pulling my legs wide apart… Just then, I saw my husband emerge from the bathroom, looking at me with a complex expression. Suddenly, my vision went black. My last conscious thought was my husband’s frantic footsteps and his panicked voice.

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