Category: English

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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