Category: English

The night of our wedding, my husband—all sinew and raw, hardworking muscle—left for the City to find work, and I didn’t hear a peep from him again. I was left in that tiny, forgotten town, running on fumes, rising before the sun and crashing after the owls. In one short year, the drudgery had hollowed me out, turning me from a woman of substance, a curvy girl with a lucky star, into a gaunt, exhausted shadow. Just when I felt I couldn’t lift another bucket, my birth parents tracked me down. They said I was the daughter who had been swapped at birth and they wanted to bring me to the City to live a life of comfort. But I hadn’t even finished the drive in their sleek black sedan when a crew of men stopped us and dragged me out. They threatened my parents: Pay the ransom, or they’d end me! I was shaking, absolutely terrified. But when the blindfold was ripped off, I looked up at the gang leader and froze. It was my runaway husband. 1 “Honey!” The name burst out of me, and every eye in the room snapped to focus on me and Rhys Owen. Rhys’s face instantly flushed crimson. I couldn’t make out his expression through the shadows, but I was too excited to care. I pumped up the volume and yelled it again. “Honey!” The rugged men stared at me, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, for a long moment, then erupted in laughter. “Boss, did we scare this one senseless?” “She just yells ‘Honey’ at anyone? Hey, sweetheart, how about me?” “You? Don’t you see the size of the Boss? Look at his build compared to yours!” “The Boss has all the luck—getting a rich heiress to throw herself at him even while he’s on the job!” Rhys glared fiercely at his crew. When he looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Stop yelling. Who are you calling your husband?” I was stunned. He didn’t recognize me! He’d abandoned me on our wedding night to seek fortune, promising to return and give me the good life, but he hadn’t even called once. If my birth parents hadn’t found me, I’d still be in that village, stuck playing Penelope. The thought of it all brought my fury to a boil. “You rotten, heartless man! You walked out and left me to fend for myself, and now the first thing you do is kidnap me? Do you have no soul?” “Do you know how I’ve been living? Starving, freezing—I nearly died of cold in that village last winter!” I wallowed in the drama of my past misery, screaming the accusations until tears streamed down my face. The men exchanged bewildered, uncertain looks. “No way. Is that really the Boss’s wife?” “Damn, Boss just hit the jackpot—a wife and a ransom!” “You can’t forget your crew when you hit it big, Boss!” A skinny guy, Mac, sidled up to Rhys with a leering grin. “Boss, we were supposed to kidnap her, but I think she’s here to kidnap you!” Rhys finally snapped out of his daze and shoved Mac away in disgust. “All of you—shut your mouths!” He then strode over, intentionally roughing up his voice, and grabbed my chin. “You open your eyes and look at me. Who is your husband? I’m known as ‘The Rattler’ on the street, and I stand by my name!” “And besides, I have a wife! She’s a curvy girl, a woman of substance! You may sound like her, but those stick arms and legs? Do you think I’m blind?” “Don’t try to play games with me, sweetheart, or I’ll cut out your tongue!” After his menacing threat, he turned away and mumbled under his breath. “Dressed so nice, trying to pretend to be my wife? What an actress! Good thing I don’t fall for that.” I was already livid that he wouldn’t admit to knowing me. Hearing that, I instinctively glanced down at myself. My hourglass figure was now a slender, toned shape; my full curves had melted into a streamlined silhouette. I’d lost over seventy pounds. No wonder he didn’t recognize me. For the first time in my life, I wanted to cry over being thin. “I really am your h—” Before I could finish, he sealed my mouth shut with duct tape. “I’m warning you, we’ve been living on a knife’s edge for years—we’re stone-cold killers. Your little beauty tricks won’t work on me!” “Cooperate and wait for the ransom, or I won’t go easy on you!” With that, he tapped the blade of a knife against my cheek. His action completely shocked me. I froze, unable to move a muscle. Once he was out of earshot, I sniffled. The more I thought about it, the more miserable I felt, so I just started yelling obscenities. “Rhys Owen, you low-down, no-good jerk!” But with the tape over my mouth, no one understood what I was saying. After a long while, I calmed down and looked around the room. The men were all bulky and rough, covered in fake tattoos and scars—they looked like the usual ne’er-do-wells you’d see hanging around town. Watching Rhys lecture his crew in the distance, I sank into thought. He was supposed to be in the City doing construction, so why was he here with them? And why was he kidnapping me? My heart ached as I watched the man I’d missed for years. Honey, you’re just getting yourself into trouble… 2 A phone ring broke my reverie. Rhys glanced at me and lowered his voice. “Ms. Harrington, the job is done.” Ms. Harrington? Skye Harrington? Wasn’t that the sister I’d been swapped with? Did she hire Rhys to kidnap me? I immediately perked up my ears. “Don’t worry, we didn’t hurt her, just gave her a good scare.” “We’ll make sure she backs off and doesn’t interfere with your life.” Those two simple sentences were all I needed to figure out their entire game. So, they just didn’t want me to come home, huh? I rolled my eyes. Since my life wasn’t actually in danger, I had nothing to fear or worry about. My priority now was to give my clueless, wife-blind husband a good lesson. Once he hung up, I kicked the skinny guy next to me, Mac, signaling him to rip the tape off my mouth. Mac, clearly eager for more entertainment, actually did it. He must have wanted to see what I’d do to Rhys next. The moment my mouth was free, I deliberately cleared my throat. “Honey~” The syrupy-sweet sound instantly made the surrounding men turn red trying to stifle their laughter. Rhys’s broad shoulders tensed. He turned back, his expression tight. “I told you not to call me that!” I pouted with a wicked glee. “Why are you so mean? I’m thirsty.” “Even a kidnapper can’t let the hostage die of thirst, can they?” I put on my best hurt expression. Rhys took a deep breath and tossed a bottle of water, which landed right beside me. Thinking about how he’d abandoned me for so long, I fluttered my eyelashes. “Oh dear, I’m all tied up, I can’t get it. Honey, come help me.” He walked over like a man resigned to his fate and held the water bottle to my lips. My eyes lit up. I gulped hard, staring at his wide shoulders and that impressive eight-pack. He sensed my stare, and his face instantly went wary as he tried to shield his chest. “Are you drinking or not?” I quickly pulled my gaze back. “Drinking, drinking, of course, I’m drinking.” I guzzled half the bottle and let out a satisfied burp. Seeing him about to stand up, I quickly adjusted my tone. “Sweetheart~” My overly dramatic voice nearly made his knees buckle. “For heaven’s sake, what do you want now!” “A person needs food to live, Honey. You’ve had me tied up for ages, aren’t you going to feed me?” He covered his ears with a look of pure disgust and retreated ten feet. “Just wait!” The crew of ‘thugs’ couldn’t hold back anymore and doubled over with laughter. “Boss, I don’t think the missus wants food, she wants you!” “Why don’t you just take one for the team, Boss, and take her in!” Rhys angrily slammed the remaining half-bottle of water onto the ground, scattering water everywhere. “All of you, shut up!” “I’m telling you one more time—I’m a married man! If anyone says something like that again, I’ll take it personally!” Seeing his genuine anger, the crew immediately straightened up. My lips curved up, and I nodded, pleased. My husband might be a little dense, but he certainly had high standards for fidelity. Rhys must have felt my gaze, because he spun around, his eyes narrowed menacingly. “Take her into the back room! I’m going out to get food!” The men immediately ushered me into the inner room. I wrinkled my nose. “You want me to sleep in this?” Mac raised an eyebrow, a suggestive smile on his face. “This is the Boss’s room! A private room! And only one bed!” “Oh.” I gave him a knowing look and smiled back. “Don’t worry, buddy. When this is all over, the missus won’t forget your help!” I sat down quietly. After what felt like ages, just as I was about to fall asleep, Rhys finally returned. “Here, eat this!” Looking at the bag of bagels and hard-boiled eggs, I felt a momentary softening of my heart. “Feed me.” His face darkened, and he was about to blow up, but I held up my hands, which were still tied together. “I’m tied up like this, and you expect me to peel an egg myself?” He was stumped. He reluctantly sat down beside me. After carefully peeling the shell off one egg, he held it to my mouth. I leaned back slightly. “I don’t eat the yolks.” He let out a defeated sigh, but his body moved automatically. The two halves of egg white were soon offered to my lips. “Happy now?” His sun-kissed skin looked even darker against the pure white egg white. He was a muscle man, but his fingers were surprisingly long and defined. I unconsciously swallowed. When I opened my mouth, I accidentally brushed his finger, and my heart started beating like a trapped bird. Rhys was busy chewing on the yolk and didn’t notice the change in me. “I’m a kidnapper, and you’re giving me your food preferences? You must have a death wish.” I gave him an innocent look and defended myself. “My husband taught me that. He gets whatever I don’t like.” Rhys paused mid-swallow. His wife didn’t like egg yolks, either! Could this woman really be his big, curvy wife? But the next second, he shook his head, pushing away the absurd thought. His wife was cute and plump; she couldn’t possibly be this bone-thin heiress. Absolutely not! 3 After it got dark, Rhys made the bed and turned to lay a blanket out on the floor. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll keep watch.” My heart warmed a little. I curled up on the bed and hummed softly. “You’re so good to me, Honey.” He shot me a glare but said nothing. I decided to push my luck. “Then help me untie the ropes, too. My wrists hurt~” His guard immediately went up, and his eyebrows tightened. “No way! What if I untie you and you run away in the middle of the night? Don’t even try to beg; my answer is final!” His stubbornness annoyed me. I scooted toward the edge of the bed to make room and shot him a seductive look. “Then you can just hold me in your arms all night, and I won’t be able to run, right?” He closed his eyes in exasperation, pretending to neither hear nor see me. I wasn’t going to let him off that easy! Since he wouldn’t speak, I extended my foot and brushed my toes against his thigh. Rhys shot up with a gasp, his head smacking the low ceiling beam with a dull thud. He let out a muffled groan of pain. I sat up in feigned concern, only to realize his ears were bright red. Grinning, I lay back down, striking a pose, and pouted my lips. “Sweetheart, if you don’t untie me, I don’t know what I might do next, you know~” He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, his neck stiff with stubborn resistance. “I don’t believe you can cause that much trouble!” I scoffed. “I won’t cause that much trouble, but I can definitely make sure you don’t get a wink of sleep.” I was a little nervous, this being my first time acting so flirtatious, but he didn’t reply for the longest time. That made me even angrier. Hello! I’m a beautiful woman now! I spun my head away in frustration, only to see him gripping his fists tightly, muttering under his breath through gritted teeth. “Do not harm the asset, do not harm the asset…” I had to clench my stomach to keep from laughing. Rhys suddenly deflated. “Fine, untie them. Just please, stop torturing me.” He turned to me with a look of utter defeat. “Promise me, if I untie you, you’ll behave and stop driving me crazy!” I nodded obediently. “Whatever you say, Honey.” He shuddered with disgust and grudgingly started working on the ropes. He didn’t see the sly look in my eyes. The moment I was free, I pounced on him, wrapping myself around him like an octopus. “Ah, I’ve been tied up all day, time to stretch my body.” He froze, his eyes wide with panic. “You… you broke your promise!” I found it hilarious. My finger traced his V-line, gliding up to his abdominal muscles. I let out a satisfied sigh. “Honey, your body is absolutely dynamite!” He looked genuinely terrified, on the verge of tears. He carefully pushed my hand away and struggled. “Get off me! Or I’ll really lose my temper!” “I don’t care if you’re a hostage or not, I swear I’ll throw you out!” “What if my wife finds out about this? I’m an honest man!” I refused to let go, clinging to his broad back. I straightened up slightly. I bit his ear, grinding my teeth a little. “Rhys Owen, do you really not recognize me?” If he dared to say no, I was going to bite his ear right off! Rhys froze as if struck by lightning. He turned his head slowly to look at me, his eyes wide. “You’re…”

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My best friend lured me to that seedy club. There were fourteen other people in the private room. Fifteen including her. I don’t remember much after that. I just remember my broken, abused body being sent home. My dad’s hair turned gray overnight; my stepmom passed out cold. Kaelen somehow got the news. He snuck away from his doctors abroad and came back, deceiving everyone. Only our family of four knew the truth: Kaelen—the stepbrother my stepmom brought into the family—was completely unhinged. I floated as a spirit beside Kaelen, sticking close, desperate to see what he would do. He went to the morgue first to see me. His eyes were rimmed red, concealing a terrifying, overwhelming rage. Carefully, gently, he lifted my mangled hand and pressed it tight against his cheek. “Lily…” It was the first time he’d ever used my nickname. Before, he always impatiently called me “Nuisance.” I instinctively answered, then realized he couldn’t hear me. I awkwardly touched my nose. “Brother is going to avenge you.” “All fifteen of them. I won’t let a single one get away.” His venom-laced voice sent a tremor through my soul. When we were small, every time I trailed behind him calling “Brother,” he’d look annoyed: “Who’s your brother? Get lost!” After a while, I stopped calling him that. “Brother…” I zoned out for a second, and the next instant, Kaelen had already walked out. 1. Kaelen bought a razor-sharp hunting knife. First, he kidnapped the girl who tricked me. [Content redacted: Extreme violence] Then, he used her phone to invite the remaining fourteen people back to that club. Those fourteen had powerful parents who managed to get them out on bail during the investigation, which only made things easier for Kaelen. When they arrived at the club, laughing and joking, they were met with a nightmare scene and Kaelen, covered in blood. Everything I had suffered, Kaelen returned to them, one by one. When someone begged for mercy, crying out in pain, Kaelen just laughed coldly and grabbed their hair. “Did you ever stop to think that my sister felt pain when you did this to her?” Screams, begging, cursing, confessions… The chaotic chorus of voices sent all fifteen of them straight to hell together. Kaelen never planned to escape. By the time the bodies were discovered, he was already standing on the roof of the city’s tallest skyscraper. He stepped off the edge. “NO—” I screamed involuntarily, reaching out to grab the empty air. An instant later, sharp pain hit me, and I blacked out. When I opened my eyes, I saw my familiar canopy bed. Stunned, I walked to the mirror and touched my face. It was me at ten years old. 2. My dad, still having a full head of hair, pushed the door open. It was jarring to see; he went bald a few years later. “Lily, your brother Kaelen has arrived downstairs. Go down and say hello. You’ll be living together from now on.” I scrambled out of bed, not even bothering with shoes, and thundered down to the second-floor landing. Downstairs, a thin, sharp boy stood ramrod straight in the living room, looking up at us with a mix of disdain and intensity. I leaned over the railing, meeting his hostile gaze. Stepmom nudged him slightly. “Kaelen, say hello to your sister.” Kaelen tugged the corner of his mouth in a challenging smirk and slowly said, “Nuisance.” Dad and Stepmom’s faces dropped, but I ran down the stairs barefoot, pat-pat-pat, right up to Kaelen and hugged him fiercely around the waist. “Not a nuisance. I’m your sister.” I looked up, letting the tears stream down my face unchecked. “Brother, this time, I won’t let go of your hand no matter what.” 3. Kaelen was unstable. I knew this from the time he butchered that meat rabbit we bought for dinner. In my past life, when he came to our house, he was covered in thorns, pushing me away time and time again. When Kaelen came to pick me up from school, my classmates would laugh and scatter. “Song Lily, your psycho brother is here. Are you a psycho too?” My face would burn red with anger. I’d turn and see Kaelen’s frosty expression. He’d toss my backpack onto his back, hesitate, then stiffly reach out his hand to me. Slap! In my anger, I’d slap his hand away and run off. After running a bit, realized he wasn’t chasing me, I went back to find him. I saw him cornering the classmate who mocked me, hands around their neck. I hurried over to pull him off, terrified inside by this volatile brother. Thinking back now, I realize there was no real malice in Kaelen’s eyes then, and his hands weren’t applying pressure. It was just because that classmate insulted me behind my back, and Kaelen was warning him not to bully me again. Again and again, the rift between Kaelen and me grew deeper. Until Stepmom suggested sending him abroad for “treatment.” The family voted. Kaelen voted no. Dad and Stepmom voted yes. It was two against one. They just needed my vote for Kaelen to stay. But I deliberately avoided Kaelen’s hopeful gaze and turned to look at Stepmom. Whispering the words: “I agree.” The light in Kaelen’s eyes instantly extinguished. Thinking about it now, if Kaelen had stayed back then, those fifteen people would never have been able to hurt me later. Because I had the best brother in the world. 4. I held onto Kaelen tightly, refusing to let go. Kaelen’s hands hovered over my shoulders, wanting to push me away, but he hesitated. He craved a warm hug too, didn’t he? Kaelen’s face turned bright red. It took him ages to squeeze out a sentence: “Nuisance, are you trying to frame me for assault?” I burst out laughing, snot splattering onto his pristine white shirt. Mortified, I covered my face and ran off, but kept looking back at him. He looked down darkly at his soiled shirt, but slowly grabbed a pair of fluffy slippers from nearby and threw them at my feet. “Put them on!” Oh. I just realized I was still barefoot. I put on the slippers, turned back, and gave Dad a brilliant smile. “Dad, Stepmom, I really like Brother Kaelen!” Maybe now, they wouldn’t reject Kaelen so much and would treat him better? I was plotting how to make his life better, never expecting that the cold, hard teenager behind me had ears burning red. The frost was melted by the blazing sun; the boy’s thorns dissolved by an embrace.

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“Max, I’ve taken care of you for two years. Now that you’re finally awake, will you marry me?” He took the flowers calmly. Standing in the corner, I stiffened, lamenting that my two years of devotion were all for someone else’s benefit. But then, Max kicked her away. “No! Get out! I was in a coma, not dead.” “You want me to marry you? Keep dreaming. No, wait! Don’t even dream about it!” 1 I took care of Max Sterling for two years after the car accident that left him in a coma. Today, he finally woke up. At the entrance of the Sterling Estate, I was blocked. Serena Cross looked down her nose at me and sneered: “Nora, you can’t compete with me!” “So what if you took care of Max for two years? Do you believe me? If I go propose to him right now, he’ll say yes without hesitation. Don’t forget, I’m the one he loves.” I believed her. Max and Serena were childhood sweethearts. They grew up together, the golden couple of the city’s elite. Before the accident, Max gave Serena whatever she wanted. It wouldn’t be strange for him to accept her proposal now. But I had cared for him for two years. I wanted to see him awake with my own eyes. While the family doctor examined Max, I stood quietly in the corner, watching. As the exam finished, the double doors opened. Sunlight flooded in, and Serena, dressed in a white gown and holding a bouquet, walked toward Max bathed in light. “Max, I’ve taken care of you for two years. Now that you’re finally awake, will you marry me? Let’s be together forever.” Max rubbed his eyes and didn’t speak. Serena continued her heartfelt confession: “Max, I love you so much. You slept for two years, and I cared for you for two years. I did everything personally, never leaving your side. I finally waited for you to wake up. We should have been married two years ago. It’s not too late now. My suffering has finally turned to joy. It’s wonderful!” Max stopped rubbing his eyes and reached out to take the flowers from Serena. Sure enough, Max agreed. Just as I was thinking my efforts were wasted on someone else… Max suddenly sat up and kicked Serena in the chest. “Joy my ass! Serena, I was in a coma, not dead! How do you have the nerve to say you suffered?” “You took care of me for two years? You’re a damn liar. You come here proposing while pregnant with someone else’s kid… do I look like a fool to you?” “Get the hell away from me!” Me: …Wow. 2 Serena was stunned. She probably didn’t expect Max to be so fierce. “Max, what… what are you saying?” “Can’t you understand English? Do I need to repeat what you said while moaning with your boyfriend in my hospital room?” “Max, I didn’t! Let me explain!” “Didn’t?” Max’s face flushed red with anger. He was probably dizzy from sitting up too fast and lay back down. “Wasn’t it you who brought guys to hook up in my room? Wasn’t it you who said it was more exciting doing it next to me? Wasn’t it you who got pregnant? Wasn’t it you who called me blind and stupid behind my back? And now you propose to me? Do you have no shame? Isn’t this embarrassing?” Although Serena was Max’s childhood sweetheart, she never visited him after the accident. I thought she just wanted to steal credit for my work, but I didn’t know she had done that. The amount of information was overwhelming. I was dumbfounded. Serena’s face turned green, then white. Even now, she refused to give up and tried to pin it on me: “Max. It wasn’t me! Nora did those things! I love you so much, how could I do that? I’m Serena! The Serena you loved!” “I know you’re Serena. If I didn’t know you well enough, I wouldn’t be sure it was you. Besides, liking you before was my karma catching up to me.” “Max…” Serena wanted to say more, but Max cut her off. “If you don’t leave, I’m releasing the hounds.” 3 I realized Max truly loathed Serena now. Serena was terrified of dogs. Max used to keep his favorite Doberman in the basement just to accommodate her. He would only let the dog out after she left. Later, Max’s dog had puppies. Serena came over when Max wasn’t home, saw the puppies, and had them thrown out. They froze to death. Max was furious, but even then, he never threatened to set dogs on her. Now, he wasn’t holding back. “I’m serious!” “Waking up to see Serena… my eyes hurt.” “No, go buy ten vicious dogs right now! If I see this woman again, sick them on her!” “And throw out all the sofas, cabinets, curtains, and furniture nearby. Disinfect the room ten times. Who knows if she has a disease?” Serena looked unwell but only dared to whisper a complaint. “Max, we’ve known each other since we were kids. There’s no need to humiliate me like this!” “Of course there is! This is humiliation?” Max scoffed. “Did I hook up with someone in front of you? Who’s humiliating whom?” “I…” Max ignored her and shouted to the butler standing by. “Alfred! Go get Buster! Let him loose!” Alfred, who had watched Max grow up, immediately went for the dog. Terrified, Serena gathered her skirt and ran, shooting a glare at me before she left. She was probably going back to the Cross family to tattle, claiming I poisoned Max against her. I didn’t stop her. The show was over. It was time for me to leave. I tried to slip away from the corner unnoticed, but Max caught me. “Nora?” I froze. He called my name. I was nervous. In the fourteen years I lived with the Cross family, I was completely ignored. Max only ever had eyes for Serena. I only dared to like him from the shadows. I thought he might say he didn’t know me, or ask if I was Serena’s sister. But he fidgeted as he walked toward me, complaining: “Nora, my head hurts. Why didn’t you come hug me? Do you not like me anymore?” He made a pitiful face. “And Nora, why didn’t you kick that gold digger out? I slept for two years, and the first thing I see is her. I almost fainted again. Do you know how much I wanted to see you? But you tried to run away. Do you only like me when I’m lying still?” “If you really prefer that, I can go back into a coma. But can you say yes to my proposal first?” Me: “…” Did Max sleep himself into a love-struck fool? He stopped in front of me, leaning against the wall for support. “Nora, I love you. I want to marry you!” Me: “?” I couldn’t understand why Max was proposing to me. He just rejected Serena, and we barely interacted before his accident. He seemed to sense my confusion and started explaining. “Nora, I know you took care of me for two years. I know you like me. I remember you crying in my ear when Alfred wasn’t around. You wiped my hands with warm towels, put lotion on me, and washed my face.” “When I was conscious but couldn’t wake up, I decided right then. If I ever woke up, I would be with you, spoil you, and marry you.” “Now I’m awake. My legs are a bit weak, but give me some time. Once I recover, let’s get married immediately, okay? Then we can cuddle. Hehe.” He looked a bit ridiculous leaning against the wall, body trembling. I reached out to steady him. He leaned his weight on me, beaming with joy. “I knew Nora cared about me. Here, take these flowers. Serena is awful, but she has good taste in flowers. They look good on you.” Me: … I suspected Max had been body-swapped. The old Max was calm and cool. He would never talk like this. “Nora, why aren’t you talking? Will you marry me?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Max frowned and lifted my chin. “Nora, what’s wrong with your voice?” I remained silent. 4 Max dragged me to the hospital for a checkup. The doctor’s diagnosis was the same as before. Vocal cord damage from the car accident two years ago. Loss of voice due to lack of timely treatment. Hearing this, Max’s eyes turned red. “Nora, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. If not for me, this wouldn’t have happened. I should be the one suffering!” Seeing him so distraught in his wheelchair, I thought back to the accident. Max truly loved Serena then. She had returned from a dance competition abroad, and Max drove to pick her up. My father, Richard, ordered me to tag along to carry Serena’s luggage. That day, a storm hit. On the highway, a truck with failed brakes flew straight at us. Before I blacked out, I thought I was dead. But I woke up. Investigators said Max’s reflexes saved me. If he hadn’t swerved at the last second, I would have died. Instead, only my vocal cords were damaged—something treatable if caught early. But Max fell into a coma. My mute state wasn’t his fault. He saved me. I took his hand and typed on my phone screen: It’s not your business. It’s not your fault. I only lost my voice because I wasn’t treated in time. He was still sad, but his focus shifted quickly. “If it was treatable, why didn’t the Cross family treat you? You’re both daughters. Serena gets a seven-million-dollar piano, but they wouldn’t fix your voice?” The Cross family wasn’t short on money, and Serena and I were indeed sisters. But I was the invisible one. To comfort Serena, who was sad about Max’s accident, they completely ignored me. Perhaps they didn’t even know I couldn’t speak. Max didn’t know my thoughts, but he held my hand, angry yet determined. “Nora, I will fix your voice. Every bit of suffering the Cross family caused you, I will make them pay back!” I was about to tell Max about my history with the Cross family when Richard called.

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My wife, Sienna, is a concert pianist. I spent five years of my life trying to win her over, a devotion that bordered on the absurd. She finally agreed to be with me, but after we married, she insisted she couldn’t have children. She always claimed it was for her career—her art—the grueling practice schedule, the touring. I knew her ambition; I was also tired of waiting. So, I did the unforgivable: I subtly compromised the barrier between us. I poked a few tiny holes in the rubber. Sienna finally got pregnant. Twins, no less. Just as I was drowning in the sheer, dizzying joy of becoming a father, I scrolled through her colleague’s social media feed. It was a screenshot of a pregnancy test—Sienna’s actual results—and a caption. “Thank you, Sienna, for finally making my dream of fatherhood come true.” “So excited for my twin babies!” The words hit me like a lightning strike. I felt the floor drop out from under me. I was a punchline. I had been living a joke. I packed my bags that night, during her colleague’s birthday party. I took all my clothes, my books, my chargers—everything that was definitively mine. The only thing I left on the writing desk was the signed divorce agreement. 1 Sienna came home and found me sitting on the living room sofa, my phone still displaying that screenshot: the positive test, the congratulatory post by her mentor’s student, Caspian. She was six months pregnant, moving with a noticeable, heavy waddle, but her face held a deep, pleasurable contentment. As always, her eyes drifted to the entrance table, waiting for me to place the slippers and bring a warm glass of water. But this time, I didn’t move. She paused, then bent to change her shoes herself, the enormous swell of her belly making the action clumsy and difficult. Her fingers managed to brush the laces, but she couldn’t undo them. Watching her struggle, a raw ache twisted in my chest. Any other day, I would have been on my knees in an instant, helping her off with her shoes, running her bath, maybe even massaging her back. But today, my limbs felt bound by invisible chains, completely immobilized. She looked at me, a flicker of confusion and then a slight, wounded expression in her eyes. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Usually, that simple, soft tone, that look of innocent vulnerability, was all it took for me to melt and cater to her every need. After a few excruciating seconds of delay, the ingrained habit won. I stood, walked over, and slid the comfortable indoor slippers onto her feet. Maybe it was habit. Maybe, despite everything, it was still love. My utter silence finally broke through her pleasant fog. “Grant, seriously. What is it? You look completely miserable.” I didn’t answer. I just handed her the phone. The screen glowed with the undeniable evidence. Her gaze fixed on the image and the accompanying caption. The smile vanished, replaced by an expression of pure blankness, swiftly followed by a flash of panic. Then, the script was ready. She chose her words carefully, a deep breath steadying her before she spoke. “Caspian has always desperately wanted a child,” she began, her voice low and rehearsed. “You know Sylvie passed away before they could have a family. He says he’ll never remarry, and he feels it would be wrong, maybe even illegal, to just use a surrogate.” “I’m his student’s peer. We’ve known each other for years. We share a history.” “Besides, Professor Ellington has done so much for my career, asking nothing in return. When he finally asked this one thing of me… I couldn’t refuse him.” “It was just… a medical procedure. In vitro.” “As soon as the babies are born, they will go to Caspian to raise.” A desolate chill swept through me. I thought back to the nights when I had first found out about the pregnancy, ecstatic and unable to sleep. I had worried that she would be furious at my deceptive act, that she would refuse to keep the twins. But then I saw her joy, and I believed she had finally had a change of heart. I thought she wanted our family. Now, I knew. It was all a terrible, soul-crushing misunderstanding. When I was smugly congratulating myself for my clever little trick, she was probably just breathing a sigh of relief that the initial hurdle was cleared. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. I felt like the biggest fool alive. “So you decided to hide it?” My voice was dangerously flat. “You let me run around like an idiot, fussing over you every day, planning nurseries, thinking these were our children!” “Do you have any idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this? How much joy I felt?” “And now… now I find out that I’m just collateral damage. That I’ve been living a joke!” Tears streamed down her face. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling dramatically. I felt a confusing mix of white-hot anger and deep, agonizing pain. She had been my everything; my happiness was something I’d spent half a decade fighting for. Now, it was a shattered illusion. She lifted her head, all soft, fragile pleading. “Please, Grant, don’t be angry. This was only about repaying the kindness and mentorship of Professor Ellington.” “When I deliver this baby, I promise, we can have as many of your own children as you want. I’ll give you everything you need, okay?” 2 I wanted to scream, No! I wanted to walk out and slam the door, to wipe the entire nightmare away. But in the end, all those impulses condensed into one long, hollow sigh. I succumbed to the reality of the situation—and to the last dying embers of my love and reluctance to lose her. Then, her abdomen spasmed violently. Her face turned chalk white. Panic took over. I scooped her up immediately, rushed her to the car, and drove like a maniac to the nearest emergency room. Her hand gripped the passenger seat strap, her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. “Call Caspian… quick, call him…” My heart seemed to clench, hard and painful, but I did as she asked. I pulled out my phone and dialed Caspian’s number. At the hospital, the doctor wheeled her into the examination room. Moments later, Caspian came sprinting down the hallway, his face a mask of frantic concern. He didn’t spare me a single glance. He headed straight for the door and slipped inside. I stood outside, glued to the spot. Through the partially open door, I saw a scene that twisted my insides. Sienna lay on the examination table, still pale, but the moment she saw Caspian, her eyes softened with a look of absolute, reliant devotion. She grabbed his hand, her voice thick with tears. “Caspian, I’m so scared… are the babies going to be okay?” He leaned over her, gently stroking her hair. His voice was a tender murmur, capable of dissolving any fear. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m here. You and the children will be fine. I promise.” I was the outsider, the invisible man. Watching their intimate exchange, the last fragile wisp of hope I’d been clinging to evaporated. She possessed a tenderness and dependence for him that she had never shown me. My heart felt like it was being fed into a grinder. I stood there, still clutching her patient file and lab reports, realizing I was utterly superfluous. I took a step toward the table, but Caspian shifted his body, a silent, definitive barrier between Sienna and me, as if I were the trespasser. His voice, though still gentle toward Sienna, carried an edge of cold, non-negotiable authority. “Sienna, you need to rest. Don’t get emotional.” He finally turned to me, his eyes cool and dismissive. “I’ve got it from here, Grant. You can go home now.” I opened my mouth, a pathetic attempt to argue, but Sienna spoke first. “Honey, why don’t you go? With Caspian here, I’ll be fine.” Her tone was a soft, urgent plea, making it clear that his presence was the one she actually required. Caspian remained where he was, a human wall standing firmly between the two of us. My heart felt suddenly hollowed out. I stood there, awkward and utterly useless, the patient file suddenly heavy in my hands. The only thing I could think to say was pathetically mundane. “Is there… anything you want to eat? I could go get something.” “I’ll buy you that seafood chowder you love. And fresh strawberries. How does that sound?” Caspian cut in immediately, a faint note of mockery in his tone. “She doesn’t like that anymore. Her tastes changed in the second trimester. Didn’t you know that?” I froze. I looked at Sienna, desperate for a rebuttal, a defense. She only lowered her head, nervously twisting the corner of the hospital sheet. Her voice was weak. “Hmm… yeah. I don’t really want that right now. It sounds kind of heavy.” My heart sank. I’d bought her that exact chowder just a few days ago, and she had eaten every spoonful, thanking me with a kiss. Now, she was telling me she was sick of it. 3 The misery was a suffocating weight, but I forced my voice to remain calm. “Then what do you want? I’ll go get it right now.” Caspian preempted me again, pulling a beautifully packaged box of pastries from his pocket. He offered them to Sienna. “I made a quick stop. These are your new favorite flavors, aren’t they? Try one.” Sienna took the box, a genuine, delighted smile lighting her face. Her voice was suddenly lighter. “Thank you, Caspian. You always know exactly what I want.” I stumbled out of the room, shell-shocked. Was this the “no influence” she had promised? Caspian stayed with her the entire time she was admitted. On the day she was discharged, I drove to the hospital early, a massive bouquet of her favorite white lilies in my hand. But when I pushed the door open, the scene inside struck me motionless. Sienna was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Caspian was kneeling, lacing up her shoes. Professor Ellington, her esteemed mentor—the elderly man who had always been polite to me—stood nearby, holding a small overnight bag, a subtle, satisfied look on his face. “Sienna, the car is waiting downstairs. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll go.” Sienna nodded, looking like a dutiful student. “Ready, Professor.” I stood in the doorway, the lilies suddenly feeling like a heavy, absurd prop. A profound, aching emptiness washed over me. “Sienna, I came to take you home.” She glanced up at me, her eyes completely devoid of warmth or recognition. “Grant, the Professor says I should stay at his home until I deliver. My due date is close, and it’s getting difficult to move around.” “It’s not that you couldn’t manage, but… the Professor’s house has a larger staff. They can look after me better.” Her tone was utterly matter-of-fact, as if this was a simple scheduling update that required no discussion. I was an afterthought, someone she was merely notifying, expecting my cheerful agreement. “Sienna…” I tried to speak, but the Professor was already picking up the bag, and Caspian was helping her stand. She finally met my eyes, and a flash of impatience crossed her face. “With the Professor and Caspian looking after me, what exactly do you have to worry about?” “Besides, they have a dedicated housekeeper. How can one man possibly provide the same level of care?” The Professor’s voice broke in again, edged with subtle urgency. “Let’s go. The driver is waiting.” Sienna nodded and moved with them toward the door. As she passed me, she didn’t even offer a glance, acting as if I were nothing more than a coat rack. I stood there, holding a bouquet of slowly wilting lilies, completely gutted. Back home, I sat in the echoing silence of our living room. I stared at the dead lilies in my hand. The image of the hospital room—Sienna’s coldness, Caspian’s smugness, the Professor’s condescending authority—kept replaying in my mind. It was in that moment that the decision became absolute. I needed a divorce. Just as I sank into the black hole of my confusion, my phone rang. The name on the screen made my eyes snap open. Sienna. Already? Did this mean she hated staying at the Professor’s house? Was she calling to come home? 4 The sudden rush of hope completely overwhelmed the misery. My voice was tight with an unwarranted surge of joy. “Sienna, are you—” She cut me off before I could finish. “You need to bring me a few changes of clothes. I can’t stand these borrowed robes.” “Also, Caspian’s birthday is coming up. The gift I bought for him? I need you to bring it over.” My throat suddenly went bone-dry. I knew exactly which box she meant. When I first saw it—beautifully wrapped, elegant—I assumed it was my own delayed birthday gift, since Caspian and I were born only a month apart. I let out a silent, ragged laugh. Tears pricked my eyes. I had been delusional. I forced a tight smile onto my face, saying only, “Alright.” When I arrived with her clothes, Professor Ellington’s home was a flurry of activity—they were setting up for Caspian’s party. Most of the guests were music colleagues, fellow students, and prominent figures in the local art scene. The party space was exquisite, romantically lit, with soft, classical music playing. Sienna was seated next to Caspian, a violin held in her hands. He was at a grand piano, his fingers hovering over the keys. Their music began, intertwining perfectly, an undeniable, breathtaking harmony. They were the very definition of a Golden Duo. Their eyes met constantly, exchanging a profound sense of recognition and history, as if the rest of the world had dissolved and only the two of them existed in a white-hot spotlight. The crowd erupted in applause. People whispered, their voices carrying easily in the silent afterglow. “They truly are a perfect pair! A match made in artistic heaven.” “I heard they grew up studying music together. They’ve always shared this soul-deep harmony.” I stood frozen in the corner. The more beautiful their music became, the more profoundly I felt my own displacement. The sheer, overwhelming feeling of being an intruder, of being utterly irrelevant, crashed over me like a tidal wave. I turned silently and left the party. I started packing my belongings into my suitcase, the movements mechanical and numb. Finally, I walked to the desk, pulled out the drawer, and retrieved the divorce agreement. The pen in my hand trembled slightly, but I pressed down and firmly signed my name. I placed the agreement on the desktop, next to a small, single key. It was the key to our home, and it was my final goodbye. I wheeled my suitcase out the front door and didn’t look back. But just as I reached the sidewalk, my phone started ringing again. 5 I stared at the name flashing on the screen, feeling it stab and twist in my heart. The tears I had held back finally broke free. It was Sienna. I didn’t want to answer; I was terrified I’d waver. The phone rang until it fell silent. Then, a text message alert. From Sienna. “Grant, why aren’t you answering your phone?” “You drop off my things and leave without a word? That is incredibly rude!” “I was just talking about you to the Professor, telling him you’re a sharp businessman, tactful and well-mannered. You just completely made me look bad!” The sheer self-absorption in her angry text was a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, killing the last flicker of hope. In love, the person who cares the most is always the one who loses everything. I bought a ticket and returned to New York City. My life was not what Sienna believed. My mother is the legendary concert pianist, Minerva Stone. My father is the celebrated composer, Rory Stone. My parents had wanted me to follow in their footsteps, but I had absolutely no musical talent and fiercely rejected the art world. I went to business school to escape their control, creating a rift that lasted years. That’s why I hadn’t returned home. When Sienna and I got married, I hired actors to play my parents. Sienna met them a few times, but finding no common ground with the stiff, fabricated relationship, she slowly drifted away from them. I focused entirely on our small, isolated life, only maintaining the bare minimum of contact with my real family. Sienna once told me she idolized Minerva Stone. At the time, I’d considered revealing the truth to her. But then my parents started calling, urging me to come back for a business engagement, and I decided against bringing Sienna into that world. Now, she had clearly found her true path, her shared legacy, with Caspian. It was time for me to go home. Standing before the familiar mahogany front door, I felt a mix of anxiety and excitement. Years had passed, but the house felt utterly unchanged. I took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately. My mother, Minerva Stone, stood there in an elegant silk dress. Her eyes rested on my face for a few seconds, then instantly welled up. “Grant? You’re finally home…” My throat tightened. “Mom, I’m back.” My father, Rory Stone, came out of the living room, a musical score in his hand. His hair was streaked with gray, but his eyes were still sharp. He looked at me, his voice low but with a hint of undeniable emotion. “Welcome home, son. Welcome home.” The familiar sound of piano music drifted from the living room, mixing with a faint scent of cedarwood and polish. My mother took my hand, her voice laced with gentle reproach. “All these years, not a single visit. Do you know how worried your father and I have been?” “If you hadn’t come back soon, we might have disowned you.” I lowered my head, guilt washing over me. I had been stubborn, foolishly convinced I needed to completely detach from their influence. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have come back sooner.” My father interrupted, his voice kind and accepting. “It’s over now. You’re here.” “We won’t dwell on the past.” My mother nodded, a bright smile returning to her face. “That’s right. And speaking of which, Vivian is here today. You two haven’t seen each other in ages, have you?” “Vivian?”

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It was Valentine’s Night, and I was scrolling through my feed when a viral thread caught my eye. “Couples: What is the single most romantic thing your partner has ever done for you?” I left a comment: “He would wait in line all night, sometimes until dawn, just to get me the one perfect dessert I craved.” But I didn’t finish the thought. Eight years ago, on a Valentine’s Night, that craving—that simple, selfish craving—was what he died trying to fulfill. The familiar, suffocating pressure seized my chest again. My eyes stung. I reached to close the app, but a new, anonymous reply popped up. “Funny coincidence. I think the most romantic thing my husband ever did was on a Valentine’s Night eight years ago, when his ex-wife wanted some ridiculous dessert and he secretly slipped away to be with me.” “While he was in the shower, I texted his wife and told her he’d been killed in a car crash.” “He knew and just went with it—faked his own death and has been laughing about it for eight years. LOL.” “The day his ex-wife tried to end her life because of depression, he was in a jewelry store with me, picking out my engagement ring.” A grainy, blurry photo of two backs was attached. My entire world narrowed down to the screen. The man in the picture, his posture, the width of his shoulders… it was Pierce. My husband, Pierce Nolan, who had been gone for eight years. 1 It was Valentine’s Night, and I was scrolling through my feed when a viral thread caught my eye. “Couples: What is the single most romantic thing your partner has ever done for you?” I left a comment: “He would wait in line all night, sometimes until dawn, just to get me the one perfect dessert I craved.” But I didn’t finish the thought. Eight years ago, on a Valentine’s Night, that craving—that simple, selfish craving—was what he died trying to fulfill. The familiar, suffocating pressure seized my chest again. My eyes stung. I reached to close the app, but a new, anonymous reply popped up. “Funny coincidence. I think the most romantic thing my husband ever did was on a Valentine’s Night eight years ago, when his ex-wife wanted some ridiculous dessert and he secretly slipped away to be with me.” “While he was in the shower, I texted his wife and told her he’d been killed in a car crash.” “He knew and just went with it—faked his own death and has been laughing about it for eight years. LOL.” “The day his ex-wife tried to end her life because of depression, he was in a jewelry store with me, picking out my engagement ring.” A grainy, blurry photo of two backs was attached. My entire world narrowed down to the screen. The man in the picture, his posture, the width of his shoulders… it was Pierce. My husband, Pierce Nolan, who had been gone for eight years. …… The thread exploded, immediately rocketing to the top of the trending list. Some people were furious, others defended the poster. “How is this romantic? Are you worried about the karmic backlash, lady?” “You drove his wife to suicidal depression, and you’re bragging about it? The audacity.” “Hold up, maybe the ex-wife was terrible. We don’t know the whole story.” “Yeah, I think the poster is brave. In love and war, there are no rules.” The comments section became a chaotic mess. I gripped my phone, my knuckles white and aching. The original poster—the mistress—replied again. “Thanks everyone. I posted this because I’m not afraid of judgment. Love is love. I’m happy now. I just found out I’m pregnant, and my husband treats me like a queen.” “He’s a famous entrepreneur in Newport, handsome and rich.” The post included a picture of a delicate hand, the ring finger sporting a magnificent, pigeon-egg sized diamond. I looked down at my own hands, dry and rough from years of neglecting myself, and it felt like a lifetime ago. She clearly wasn’t done. She tagged Pierce. He appeared almost instantly: “My wife is young and tends to be dramatic. Apologies for the commotion, folks.” She quickly shot back: “Hush! Stop embarrassing me in front of everyone!” “Wow, they’re so sweet. Must be true love.” “They seem like nice people; there must be a good reason he left the ex.” “Any woman who can’t tell if her husband is alive or dead must be both stupid and toxic.” Someone addressed Pierce directly: “Sir, have you ever contacted your ex-wife since you faked your death? Is she okay?” Pierce was silent for a long time. He didn’t answer. My head was spinning, a toxic cocktail of betrayal, fury, and utter humiliation burning through my veins. Just then, a notification popped up on a messaging app: “How are you holding up?” I froze. This account had been sending me short, restrained messages every holiday, every birthday, for the last three years: “Happy holiday. Wishing you well.” I always replied with a polite, stiff, “Thank you.” The familiar ellipsis would appear as they typed, only to disappear and be replaced by a single, curt, “Fine.” Only now did I realize that the profile picture was from the same artistic series Pierce used for his old accounts. I stared at the picture and laughed—a dry, humorless sound that quickly cracked into sobs. This was the eighth year he’d been gone, the eighth year I’d spent drowning in guilt and regret. He cheated, he lied, he faked his death, and now he asks how I am? I blocked the number, then went back to the viral thread. “Thank you all.” “I’m sorry to say it, but the ‘stupid and toxic ex-wife’ is me.” The entire thread went silent. Even Pierce and that woman stopped typing. I already knew who she was. Willow Chan. She was a student my mother had sponsored years ago. The girl who had once knelt on our doorstep, weeping, promising to repay our kindness for a lifetime. “WHOA! Ex-wife is here?!” “OMG, please tell us everything! We need the tea!” But I was too exhausted to reply. The man I loved most, the girl my mother treated like a daughter. They had conspired to ruin me for eight years. I stayed up all night. A thousand chaotic thoughts swirled: I wanted to storm their home, to scream, to lash out. I wanted to die again. But by morning, a strange, cold calm had settled over me. I reopened the thread, which was now a global news item. “Since you all want to hear it, I’ll tell you my story.” The first time I saw Pierce, he was rail-thin, practically starving. I was twenty-eight; he was twenty-one. His parents were gone, and his few relatives were pushing him away like damaged goods. My mother, Eleanor, took me to an inner-city school to pick the next student we would sponsor. I saw him immediately. He stood by a broken chain-link fence, his jaw set, his eyes burning with defiant ambition. I decided then that Pierce didn’t belong in that despair. “Him,” I said, pointing. My mother asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to see the others?” “No,” I said. “Just him.” That decision became the knot that tied our lives together for the next decade. It was Valentine’s Day. I brought him a small box of expensive chocolates. “For you,” I told him. “A celebration of a new start.” He took the box, his hands trembling slightly. “Reese,” he said, his voice husky, “I swear, no matter how far I go, I will never forget you.” He was brilliant and worked tirelessly. He got into an Ivy League school, but by his sophomore year, he refused any more money from my family. He studied and simultaneously started a small business. Within three years, he was a known name in logistics and international trading. The day of his graduation, he brought a huge bouquet of white lilies, knelt on one knee, and offered me a ring. “Reese,” he said. “You were the only light in my darkness. All I want is to keep you safe for the rest of my life.” Pierce was always a man of few words, but he always followed through. People would gossip, saying I was too old and plain for the handsome, up-and-coming Pierce Nolan. They called me the ‘Golden Ticket’ he rode to success. Pierce overheard one of them. That night, he beat the man so badly he landed in the ICU, and Pierce landed in the precinct. When I picked him up, his face was bruised, but he smiled through the pain and wiped my tears. “Why are you crying? You gave me my life. Dying for you would be worth it.” I said yes that day. We set the wedding for the following Valentine’s Day. “And then what? Did you get married as planned?” I lowered my eyes. “No. He ran.” Pierce, who had been silent, suddenly posted: “Reese, stop this.” “Why should I?” “Don’t listen to him, Ex-wife! The mistress was so vicious, and he didn’t stop her!” “He ran? Where did he go? Why did he bail?” I ignored Pierce and kept typing. “Every single guest knew the groom had disappeared. I was the old woman, publicly abandoned.” Pierce reappeared three days later. He knelt before me and begged for forgiveness. He said he’d never experienced anything that grand, that he was terrified. He said he felt he didn’t deserve me and panicked. He blamed his parents’ failed marriage for giving him a phobia of commitment. He promised to never hurt me again. I looked at his red, swollen eyes and my resolve crumbled. “The wedding doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “As long as we’re together.” The next day, we quietly went to City Hall and got married. No ceremony, no guests. Pierce held me tightly. “Reese, I will only ever love you.” Those were my happiest months. Until my mother sponsored another student: Willow Chan. Suddenly, the always-busy Pierce found time to drop by my mother’s home. I would sometimes find him and Willow sitting close, talking. They would reminisce about their humble beginnings, their shared memories of rural life—the stars, the simple food, the coldness of city people. They seemed like kindred spirits. One day, Pierce told me, “Willow can’t stay with Mom indefinitely. She’s not family.” A cold sliver of resentment pricked my heart. My mother, Eleanor, was elderly but had the long-time housekeeper, Doris, to help. Pierce’s comment felt manipulative, implying my mother was taking advantage. But I conceded: “Fine. You handle it.” He leased a small apartment near his office for Willow, claiming he didn’t want her to feel like she was ’begging for shelter.’ He even hired her as his personal assistant at his growing firm, Apex Group. I was four months pregnant then. Willow stood next to Pierce, smiling sweetly at me. “Reese, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your husband.” I missed the predatory glint in her eyes. Then came the next Valentine’s Day. I went to Pierce’s office to bring him a pot of my mother’s famous homemade soup. I pushed the office door open and saw them locked in a desperate kiss. “Pierce,” Willow whispered breathlessly. “Do you do this with Reese at home?” Pierce’s voice was low and rough: “She’s not like you young girls. She’s… not as good at playing the game.” The ceramic bowl slipped from my hands and shattered on the polished floor. I was shaking, reaching for a sharp piece of ceramic, ready to lunge. Pierce instinctively shoved me away, shielding Willow. I fell onto the broken shards. My palm sliced open, but I didn’t feel the pain. Pierce looked down at me with cold fury. “Reese. Are you done with the drama? You’re getting old, turning into a shrew, and embarrassing me at the office.” A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my abdomen. I grabbed for his leg. “Hospital… take me to the hospital… the baby…” Pierce hesitated for a fraction of a second. Willow seized it. She held out her hand, a delicate, practiced tremble in her voice. “Pierce, my hand is burned, look! Will it leave a scar?” He immediately took her hand, soothing her softly, before turning a chilling gaze back to me. “You brought this on yourself.” He left with her, without looking back. That night, I lost the baby. Blood saturated my dress, the sheets, my memory. I lay in the sterile hospital bed, my pillow wet with tears. Pierce finally arrived a week later. Willow was with him. “Reese, our marriage was never fair. I’m seven years younger than you.” “What man doesn’t want someone younger and fresher?” “But Willow isn’t trying to steal your position. She’s just grateful to me, just like I was grateful to you once.” I laughed, a horrible sound that turned into weeping. Gratitude. That’s all the vows, the promises, the protection had ever been. I had never felt such gut-wrenching shame. The love in my heart slowly curdled into pure hatred. After I was discharged, I went straight to Apex Group. I fired Willow Chan and immediately cut off all my mother’s family’s financial support to her. “The past four years of tuition and living expenses total sixty thousand dollars. Pay it back to the company account within one week. I won’t bother with the gifts.” “Also, anyone who is blacklisted by the Nolan family will never work in Newport again.” Willow screamed, her face contorted: “You old hag! You’re just jealous of me!” Pierce rushed in and pulled her behind him. “Reese, have you lost your mind? At your age, who will want you if you leave me?” “Willow just graduated, and you’re terrorizing her. You’re a nasty piece of work.” If reclaiming what was mine made me nasty, I gladly wore the label. “If you want Apex Group to stay open, Willow leaves Newport.” I walked out, holding onto a sliver of desperate hope. If he came after me, if he chose me, I would forgive him. But Pierce chose Willow. Even when I pulled a huge percentage of my family’s investment out of his company, he kept her close. He drove Apex Group into debt, throwing money at her, once spending thousands on a fireworks display just because she casually mentioned she “liked to watch them explode.” The final straw: when Willow got pregnant, Pierce transferred a significant portion of the company’s stock to her name and demanded a divorce. I finally snapped and told my mother everything. Eleanor was furious. She leveraged our family’s connections to crush Apex Group. Pierce’s company quickly imploded, drowning in debt. Desperate, he came back to me. He sent Willow away, falling to his knees and groveling for forgiveness. My mother, still enraged, assigned him to oversee a dangerous construction site, picking the hardest, filthiest jobs. Pierce took it all without complaint. He seemed to transform back into the devoted man he once was, fulfilling my every petty request. I tested him daily, making him run ridiculous errands, wait in freezing lines, and stay up all night to buy me desserts. Then, my mother’s company was sabotaged. The capital chain snapped, and she was facing bankruptcy overnight. The shock triggered a massive heart attack. She was rushed to the ICU. Those were the most desperate days of my life. I expected Pierce to take his revenge, but he didn’t. He stayed by Mom’s bedside, managed the chaotic household, and even physically fought off the debt collectors, his arm badly cut in several places. Slowly, the ice in my heart began to thaw. “You look exhausted…” I whispered one night. “You’ve been through hell.” He gripped my hand. “I promised I’d protect you forever, Reese.” I cried for a long time that night. I told him: “I want that dessert from the bakery downtown.” He nodded. “Done.” I had actually written out the divorce papers that day. With my mother’s business ruined, I couldn’t bear to drag him down anymore. But I never saw him again. What I got instead was a call from the police: “Ms. Nolan? Your husband was in an accident on the way to the bakery. His vehicle went over the bridge and into the river. We haven’t recovered his body…” The rapid succession of trauma shattered me. I was diagnosed with severe depression. I attempted to take my life multiple times, ending up in a locked ward. Now I understand. It was all Pierce’s play. The crash. The faked death. Even my mother’s company’s ruin was likely his doing. For eight years, I lived in soul-crushing guilt, convinced my selfishness had killed him. Those memories were my prison, forging him into a perfect, unattainable phantom in my mind. Now I know the truth. After the initial burst of anger, a strange lightness settled over me. It wasn’t my fault. The love I had for him died the day he cheated. The last eight years were just the haunting ghost of misplaced guilt. “@PierceNolan, get out here! Is this true or not?” “@PierceNolan, why the silent treatment now?” The internet was in an uproar. As I finished typing, the last of my rage drained away. “Thank you, everyone. No need to tag him.” “Whether he is alive or dead, he is no longer relevant to me.” I typed the final line, stood up, and walked toward the door to leave the house. The door burst open. Pierce stood there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was rough with emotion. “What do you mean, ‘no longer relevant’?” “Reese, how dare you decide what’s relevant to me?”

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My mother was in end-stage kidney failure. To save her, my father emptied his life savings. My brother donated a kidney without a second thought. Even my elderly grandmother dragged her frail body to the hospital to care for her day and night. But on the day she was discharged, my mother picked up a kitchen knife and hacked my father, brother, and grandmother to death. I survived only because I was away at boarding school. After killing them, my mother vanished without a trace. The police searched everywhere but found nothing. The case went cold. No one could understand why my mother, who had always been gentle and kind, would slaughter the family that loved her so dearly. Until my wedding day. My mother walked into the ceremony, knife in hand… 1 “Elara, I know this is hard for you, but you don’t have to drop out.” “You’re the top student at the Police Academy. Giving up now is a waste of your talent.” Professor Thorne looked at my withdrawal form, his voice filled with concern. I didn’t hesitate. “As long as my mother’s case remains unsolved, I can’t focus on anything else.” Thorne sighed. “The department has prioritized this case. A special task force was formed, but there are simply no leads.” “I’ve been analyzing it myself. I’ve consulted on hundreds of cases, but this one… it makes no sense. Your family was known for being close. Your mother had no history of violence. Why would she do this?” Professor Thorne was a legend in criminal psychology. He had helped solve impossible cases for decades. Yet, even he was stumped by my mother’s actions and disappearance. “I’m quitting school to investigate this myself,” I said. “Elara, don’t be impulsive. She’s your mother, yes, but she killed three people. She’s dangerous. Investigating alone is reckless.” Tears welled up in my eyes. The image of the mother who used to brush my hair, now a wanted fugitive, broke my heart. “If she comes for me, good. Then I can ask her why.” My mother, Grace, had always been the heart of our home. She preached that family was everything. I couldn’t reconcile that woman with the monster who destroyed us. 2 I moved back into the empty house. The silence was deafening. The faint metallic scent of old blood still lingered in the air. I sat on the couch, staring at the family portrait on the wall. My heart felt like it had been carved out. My parents had been deeply in love. Dad was frugal but would spend a fortune on a dress if Mom liked it. When she got sick, he worked three jobs to buy her the best supplements. Grandma treated Mom like her own daughter. When Mom was hospitalized, Grandma stayed by her side, wiping her face, feeding her. My brother, Noah, was our pride. He gave up a scholarship to Stanford to stay close and donate his kidney to Mom. We were the envy of the neighborhood. The perfect family. Why? I searched every inch of the house for clues. Mom’s bedside table still had Dad’s hangover pills. Dad’s side had books on post-transplant care. Grandma’s room was tidy, the jade bracelet Mom gave her stored safely in a velvet box. Noah’s room was filled with medical journals, notes on kidney health scribbled in the margins. Nothing. No secret diaries, no hidden debts, no signs of an affair. Finally, I turned to the surveillance footage. 3 I had watched this video a thousand times. The authenticity had been verified by forensics. Dad, Noah, Grandma, and Mom were eating dinner. Halfway through, Mom stood up and walked to the kitchen. She returned with a cleaver. Before anyone could react, she was swinging. The violence was brutal, efficient. She didn’t stop until they were unrecognizable. Her face was twisted in a mask of pure rage, as if she were killing her worst enemies, not her family. My family died with shock and confusion frozen on their faces. After confirming they were dead, Mom looked directly into the camera, then walked out the door. For three years, I locked myself in the house, replaying that footage. My boyfriend, Caleb, dropped out of the academy with me. He moved in, took care of me, and tried to help me solve the case. “Elara, it’s been three years. We can’t find her. The task force has given up. You need to let go.” Caleb placed a plate of food in front of me. He looked exhausted. Everyone told me to move on. They said my mother was just a psychopath who snapped. But I knew there was more. Why kill the people who saved her life? One day, while staring at the screen for the millionth time, something clicked. A detail I had missed. I stood up, shouting, “I know the truth!” 4 “What is it?” Caleb asked immediately. “Let’s get married,” I said. Caleb froze. “Now? What does that have to do with the case?” He had proposed before, wanting to take care of me, but I had always refused. “Just trust me,” I said, my eyes burning with intensity. “Announce it. Make it big. Invite influencers, reporters, livestream it. You’ll understand soon.” Caleb looked at me, saw the resolve in my eyes, and nodded. “Okay.” We set the date for two days later. The news spread like wildfire. “Elara Vance is getting married? Her mom is still at large!” “I thought she went crazy from grief. Now a wedding?” The internet buzzed with speculation. On the day of the wedding, the hall was packed. Reporters live-streamed the event. As we were about to exchange rings, she appeared. My mother stood at the entrance of the banquet hall. She was wearing a custom-made cheongsam my father had bought her years ago. In her hand was a rusty cleaver. She looked older, her eyes cold and dead. Guests screamed and scattered. The cameras zoomed in. Livestream comments exploded: “That’s the killer mom!” “She’s here to finish the job!” “Run, girl, run!” Caleb stepped in front of me protectively. I gently pushed him aside and walked toward her. “Mom,” I said calmly. “Long time no see.”

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The day I found out I was the switched-at-birth heiress, I didn’t waste a second. I went straight to the Garver estate to claim my life. There was no cliché drama. After a quick DNA test, my biological parents, the Garvers, announced my return to the world. Even the fake heiress, Stella, didn’t cause any trouble. In fact, she did everything she could to help me adjust to my new, opulent life. But I wasn’t satisfied. I made a habit of turning the house upside down, my anger a constant storm. It finally came to a head when I slapped one of the maids. My mother, Mrs. Garver, exploded. “What is it you really want, Zoe?” I pointed a trembling finger at the maid. “She’s always comparing me to your other daughter,” I spat. “She says I’m stupid, that I’m ugly. An ugly duckling.” Then, my finger swung towards Stella. “Everything she is, everything she has, she stole from me. Why should I have to live under the same roof as her, a constant reminder of what I lost? Get her out, or I’ll keep tearing this house apart.” My parents exchanged a look, then tried to reason with me. “Zoe, the switch wasn’t Stella’s fault.” No, it wasn’t her fault. But was it mine? “I refuse to share the role of ‘good daughter’ with her,” I declared. “It’s one or the other. Either she goes, or I do.” 1 “Zoe, please…” My mother reached for me, her voice softening, ready to smooth things over like she always did. I slapped her hand away without a second thought, my glare venomous. My father’s voice boomed. “What is that attitude? Is that any way to treat your mother?” I grabbed my hair, my voice rising to a hysterical shriek. “She’s not my mother, and you’re not my father! You’re Stella’s parents. What am I? Some intruder who crashed your perfect family? You probably wish I’d just died out there, don’t you?” My eyes darted to the source of my latest tantrum: a box of strawberries on the coffee table, not quite fresh. I snatched the box and smashed it on the floor. With the heel of my shoe, I ground each berry into the marble, the sweet juice splattering like blood. “In this house, your precious daughter is a princess, and I’m a beggar! She wants strawberries, the maids get her the freshest, most expensive ones from Japan. I want some? I get the week-old rejects that are starting to rot! When have you ever treated me like your real daughter? Why does everyone here look down on me?” I’d always heard the staff whispering. I’d ignored it, swallowing my pride because, in a way, they were right. I knew if I caused too much trouble, I’d wear out my welcome. But my restraint was met with their scorn. “A phoenix without its feathers is no better than a chicken,” I’d overheard one of them sneer. “What does she know about fine food? Those strawberries are a hundred dollars a box. Even the rotten ones are too good for her.” That’s when I realized the big, juicy strawberries I’d been happily eating were Stella’s leftovers—the ones she’d tasted and deemed not good enough. Her trash. Why? I was the real daughter of this house. I screamed and cried until I was hoarse. But my parents just offered placating words. “We’ll fire her immediately. You want strawberries? We’ll take you to the market right now, buy the very best.” Stella bit her lip, her voice calm. “I didn’t know about any of this. I…” She took a step towards me. I shoved her, hard. “Don’t you pretend to be the good guy, you thief! You stole my life and you still walk around here acting so high and mighty.” Stella stumbled backward, her head cracking against the corner of the table. Blood gushed from the wound. I froze, horrified. My mother crumpled to the floor, a strangled sob escaping her lips. Pain flashed across my father’s face. Seeing their reaction, a fresh wave of hatred washed over me. Without thinking, I bolted for the balcony and threw one leg over the railing. 2 Hands grabbed me, pulling me back. My parents. I fought them, trying to throw myself over the edge. “Let me go! Either I die, or she leaves!” Only one thought consumed me: get rid of Stella. Get rid of the thief, the robber who had stolen everything from me. My mother was weeping hysterically, but she never once said the words. She never agreed to make Stella leave. In the end, it was Stella herself. Clutching her bleeding head, she walked to the balcony and slowly sank to her knees before me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, blood smearing her face, making her look utterly pathetic. “I’ll go now. I’m sorry for taking your place for so long.” She looked wretched, but I knew it wasn’t an act. She had wanted to move out for a while. It was my parents who wouldn’t let her. This time, my father didn’t try to stop her. He just let out a long, defeated sigh. My mother, however, clung to Stella, both of them sobbing in a heart-wrenching embrace. That night, Stella vanished from the house. A massive weight lifted from my chest, replaced by a giddy sense of triumph. I didn’t care about the strange looks the maids gave me. In fact, right in front of them, I marched to the refrigerator, pulled out every single box of strawberries, and dumped them in the trash. “I hate strawberries,” I announced to the room. “From now on, I don’t want to see a single strawberry in this house. In fact, I don’t want to see anything that belonged to Stella. Get rid of it all.” The staff didn’t dare cross me again. They cleared out Stella’s belongings with record speed. It was a victory. Ever since I’d arrived, they’d looked at me with mocking eyes, whispering behind my back that I could never measure up to Stella. They jumped to do her bidding, but treated my requests as an afterthought. After Stella was gone, I reveled in my freedom for a while. But seeing the joy drain from my parents’ faces, a slow, creeping anxiety began to set in. So, I tried to win them over. I started mimicking Stella. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. If I had grown up here, I would have been the one doing all those things anyway. I thought I could replace her. And I worked tirelessly at it. I learned the complex art of tea ceremonies that my father loved, and the elegant flower arranging my mother adored. On top of that, I had my regular studies. I was sleeping less than six hours a night. But it was all a pathetic illusion. An illusion shattered by a property deed. Since my return, I had acquired a host of enemies. The other debutantes looked down on me, their insults a constant barrage of thinly veiled contempt. Stella’s old rival was the worst. “I never liked how stuck-up Stella was,” she’d sneered at me, “but compared to a piece of trash like you dragging down our social circle, she was a damn queen.” I had been furious. So after I kicked Stella out, the next time the girl came at me, I threw it in her face. “No matter what, a fake is still a fake. You really think some cuckoo in the nest is better than the real thing?” She just laughed. “Oh, you poor, stupid girl.” Then she told me the truth. My parents had bought Stella a sprawling luxury apartment downtown. And all those nights they claimed to be busy with work, they were at that apartment, playing happy family with her. “You idiot. You thought you kicked her out, but all you did was gift her a multi-million dollar condo. You got one of those? Oh, that’s right, you don’t even have parents anymore. They’re off building a new family without you.” 3 I didn’t want to believe it. But a cold knot of dread in my stomach told me it was probably true. When I found the property deed in my father’s study, signed over to Stella Garver, my reason snapped. I stormed over to the address like a wife catching a cheating husband. When Stella opened the door, I shoved past her and burst inside. And there they were. My parents, who had told me they were on a business trip, sitting in the warm, cozy living room. My elegant mother was wearing an apron, carrying a platter of steaming food. My father was on the sofa, watching the evening news. The moment they saw me, their faces changed. I gritted my teeth. “Sorry to interrupt your little family reunion.” The sense of betrayal was a tidal wave, drowning me. “A multi-million dollar apartment. How generous! I thought you said she was going back to where she belonged.” My father cleared his throat, his expression turning grave. “We had no choice, Zoe. You lived in that place for sixteen years. You know what it’s like. For Stella to go back there… it would be like sending her to hell.” Hell? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “That’s because she was born in hell. What’s that got to do with me? I know, you think I’m not as graceful or as kind as she is. I’m calculating, petty, selfish—I have all the ugly traits of someone who clawed their way out of poverty. But did I ever have a chance to be like her?” My adoptive parents—Stella’s biological parents—were the laziest couple in our town. They never worked, never earned a cent, just leeched off their own parents. When their kids got old enough, they started leeching off us. By the time I was four, I was out with my older sister, scavenging for scrap metal just to have enough to eat. A few years later, I was in a factory, my small hands working day and night. I learned to fight over every last penny, to never let anyone take advantage of me. I’m sixteen now, but I’m barely five feet tall. I only just got my first period. The family doctor said I was severely malnourished, my growth permanently stunted. “You feel sorry for her, for being sent to hell?” My voice cracked. “Why don’t you feel sorry for me? The place you call hell is where I spent sixteen years of my life!” Even if they had sent Stella back, she would have had it better than I did. They would have given her money. She was old enough now, she could have endured it for a couple of years, gotten into college, and escaped those parents for good. Stella just stood there, biting her lip, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” My mother finally broke. “What more do you want? Yes, yes, you suffered! But whose fault is that? Do you think I wanted my child to grow up in poverty? Do you think I enjoyed raising someone else’s daughter? Fate played a cruel joke, letting you be born from my body only to live a life of misery. Maybe… maybe you were just born into the wrong fate. Stella was destined for a good life, and you were destined for…” She trailed off, her lips trembling. I finished her sentence for her. “To be worthless?”

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At the gala of powerful Alistair Sterling, my world collapsed. Laura Coy, my husband Tim’s true love, stood sobbing, accusing my brother Leo of assault. The elite whispered, “Laura was Sterling’s chosen fiancée. That White boy is out of control!” Respecting our family ties, Sterling ordered Leo to marry Laura instead of pressing charges. But Tim enacted his own justice: before everyone, he shattered Leo’s legs with a chair, telling me, “We must appease the Sterlings, or they’ll ruin our family.” Months later, Laura had a baby boy. Leo, wheelchair-bound, screamed his innocence, but no one believed him. Desperate, he took the infant to demand a public paternity test. As he left, Tim struck him from behind with a vase. I screamed, but Tim choked me, hissing, “Think of the scandal and the baby.” Carrying our child, I died. I awoke again at the Sterling gala. This time, I tied my brother up and locked him in a storage room. Yet Laura Coy was still weeping, still claiming she’d been assaulted. … Laura stood there, wrapped only in Tim’s suit jacket, with suspicious red marks blooming across her exposed shoulders and legs. She hid her face, her sobs echoing with practiced misery. “I’ve disgraced Mr. Sterling’s trust! I can’t bear to live!” she cried, lurching toward one of the marble pillars as if to end her own life. “Tim, don’t stop me! Just let me die!” Several society matrons rushed to restrain her, their faces a mixture of pity for her and disgust for me. Their glares were like daggers. “Has Leo White completely lost his mind? Did he pick up these disgusting habits overseas?” “His family has a little prestige, sure, but to touch someone the Sterlings have chosen? He’s spitting in the face of the most powerful man in the city!” “Miss Coy was supposed to marry the Sterling heir next month. This has ruined everything!” I glanced at my husband, Tim Thorne, who was shielding Laura, his eyes burning with fury as he stared at me. I fought back the bitter, knowing smile that threatened to curve my lips. Pushing through the crowd, I walked straight up to Laura. “Miss Coy,” I said, my voice cutting through her performance. “Look at me. Are you absolutely certain the man who did this to you was my brother?” Laura flinched, her weeping growing more frantic. “Miss White, I know you love your brother, but how could any woman lie about something like this? I just… I don’t want to live anymore!” She struggled again, a damsel in deep distress, held back by the gentle hands of the other women. Tim strode forward and yanked me aside, his grip so tight it felt like my wrist would snap. His face was thunderous, his eyes blazing. “Elara, your brother commits a disgusting, animalistic act, and instead of dragging him here to apologize, you come to intimidate his victim?” His voice was a low, furious growl. “Your father’s legacy, his good name—you and your brother are dragging it through the mud!” The pain in my wrist was sharp, but the cold laughter in my heart was sharper. Half an hour ago, I personally bound and gagged Leo and secured the storage room with three separate locks. Did he magically teleport back here to assault Laura? I met Tim’s furious gaze without flinching. “Tim, are you sure? Are you absolutely certain it was my brother who did this?” His jaw tightened. “I saw him with my own eyes, Elara! I saw that bastard putting his hands all over Laura! I knocked him out myself to save her. You think I don’t recognize my own brother-in-law?” A sliver of doubt pierced my resolve. Tim’s certainty was unsettling. Had Leo somehow escaped? “Mrs. Thorne, how long are you going to bully this poor girl?” a prominent matriarch snapped at me, her voice dripping with condescension. “You are the wife of the Thorne Corporation heir! You should be protecting your husband’s family name, not defending the trash in yours. You are unfit to be the lady of the Thorne house!” “Or what?” another chimed in. “Do you want Tim to just look the other way while you and your delinquent brother drive Miss Coy to her death?” Tim shot me a venomous look. “Elara, stop embarrassing yourself!” I let out a cold, humorless laugh, my gaze sweeping over the self-righteous faces of the city’s elite, all of them eager to join the chorus. “It seems that no matter what really happened tonight, all the filth was destined to be thrown at my brother.” “You!” Laura looked as if I had struck her. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, making her look exquisitely fragile. She bit her lip, her voice trembling. “I have always lived an honorable life. I never wanted to climb the social ladder! And now you’re calling me a shameless, conniving woman?” “Fine! If the White family refuses to take responsibility, then I’ll die right here and sever all ties to this world!” She spun and ran toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, only to be caught and soothed by the gaggle of women. “Miss Coy, don’t do something so foolish!” “It’s all that vile White boy’s fault!” “You’ve suffered so much! You can’t let that animal get what he wants!” While they comforted her, they shot me looks of pure loathing. “She was supposed to be marrying the Sterling heir, for God’s sake.” “The Whites run a decent business, but do they really think they’re in the same league? Why would a woman like Miss Coy need to frame them with her own reputation?” Tim pulled me closer, his grip still bruising, his expression shifting to one of feigned concern. “Elara, stop this,” he murmured, loud enough for others to hear his “reasonableness.” “Just have Leo agree to marry Laura. Issue a public apology, offer compensation.” “If this goes to court,” he whispered, for my ears only, “an assault charge alone will land him in prison for at least a decade. White Industries’ stock will plummet. How will you answer to your board then?” Last time, that mask of his had fooled me completely. I believed Leo had made a drunken mistake. Consumed by guilt, I handed over a major White Industries project to the Coy family as an apology and treated Laura like a queen. And in return, she gave birth to another man’s child seven and a half months later and destroyed my entire family. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I ripped my arm from his grasp. “You want my family to welcome Laura Coy into our home under a cloud of lies? In your dreams!” The warmth vanished from Tim’s face, replaced by a chillingly familiar darkness. Before he could respond, Laura’s father, Mr. Coy, stormed into the room, his face a mask of fury. Without a word, he marched up to his daughter and struck her, a sharp, ringing slap that sent her stumbling to the floor, blood trickling from her lip. “You are still making a scene in a place like this!” he roared. “Get home, now! I’ll book you a flight. Go die abroad for all I care, just stop shaming our family!” Two bodyguards moved to grab Laura. “You don’t have to touch me,” she sobbed. She snatched a fruit knife from a nearby table and, without hesitation, slashed it across her wrist. The room erupted in chaos. There were screams, people rushing to stop her, and others grabbing me, their voices shrill with accusation. “Mrs. Thorne! Are you just going to stand there and watch?” “If it wasn’t for your degenerate brother, would she be driven to this?” “Can your family live with themselves?” I watched the melodrama unfold, my face a cold, impassive mask. I saw the glint in Laura’s eyes as she pressed the blade deeper. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to die. It was the look of someone certain of victory. Blood welled up, crimson and stark against her pale skin. The matrons shrieked. “My God! The White family is driving her to her death!” Tim’s face went white. He lunged forward, wrenching the knife from her hand. “Doctor! Get the family doctor in here, now!” He quickly undid his tie and wrapped it tightly around her bleeding wrist. Surrounded by a worried crowd, Laura lay back, her eyes fluttering weakly. Her gaze flickered toward me, and in that fleeting moment, I saw it again: not despair, but triumph. Once Laura was safely settled in a quiet corner, Tim stormed toward me, his eyes terrifyingly dark. “Elara White!” he roared, and his hand flew up, striking me across the face with brutal force. The slap echoed through the ballroom. The impact sent me staggering backward, and I fell, my head cracking against the sharp corner of a marble table. A searing pain shot through my skull as blood trickled down my temple. My cheek was on fire, my ear ringing, and my vision swam with black spots. Tim stood over me, his finger pointed at my face, his eyes filled with a venomous hatred. “You are such a vicious bitch. You had to push her to the brink of death just to feel satisfied, didn’t you? I, Tim Thorne, do not have a wife as evil as you. We’re getting a divorce. Today!” The crowd murmured in agreement. Some even looked pleased. “Mr. Thorne is right! A wife with no sense of right and wrong is a curse!” “Like brother, like sister. He’s a thug, so what does that make her? I bet she was sleeping around before she got married!” “Mr. Thorne and Miss Coy are so unlucky to have run into these two psychopaths!” The vicious words rained down on me. They looked at me as if I were a murderer, one step away from being pelted with rotten fruit. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and pushed myself up from the floor, my head throbbing. I faced them all. “You need to catch them red-handed,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “Which one of you actually saw my brother assault Laura Coy?” A stunned silence fell over the room. Tim broke it with a cold laugh. “I see you won’t give up until you’re faced with irrefutable proof!” He spun around and strode to a dark corner of the ballroom where two bodyguards stood watch over a bulky, black sack. He bent down, untied the rope, and reached inside. With a flourish, he pulled out a custom-made men’s lapel pin, exquisitely crafted and engraved with a small, stylized “V.” He held it up for everyone to see. “Recognize this? This was a coming-of-age gift for Leo White from his family. It is a one-of-a-kind design! No one else in the world has one!” His eyes were like daggers as he threw the pin at me. It clattered at my feet. “Elara White, what do you have to say now?” My heart plummeted. A cold sweat broke out on my back. The pin… it was the one Leo was wearing tonight. Did someone let him out of the storage room after I left? No, that’s impossible. I told the guards not to move. Mr. Coy spat in my direction. “The evidence is right in front of you! Are you still going to deny it?” I clenched my jaw and met Tim’s gaze, a bitter smile on my lips. “This is all very strange, isn’t it? My brother and I have only been back in the country for a short time. We keep to ourselves. But today, of all days, the one day I specifically told him to stick by his brother-in-law and learn the ropes, this happens.” I raised my voice, letting the accusation hang in the air. “I want to know who was really with Laura Coy tonight, and who is trying to frame my brother and my family for their own filthy secrets!” “You’re talking nonsense!” Tim roared, a flicker of panic in his eyes that he couldn’t quite conceal. Several of his friends rushed to hold him back, afraid he would lose control completely. The crowd shook their heads, their disapproval now aimed at me. “Elara! You’ve lost your mind! You’d slander your own husband to protect that animal of a brother?” “She’s completely shameless! She’s trying to drag the Thorne family down with her!” A few of the older women who had known my family for years tried to reason with me. “Elara, dear, just stop. Apologize to Tim. There’s still a chance to fix this.” I shook them off. “Apologize? I’ve done nothing wrong!” Someone in the crowd muttered, “Tim and Laura were childhood sweethearts. If they were meant to be, they would have married years ago. Why would she get involved with him now?” The comment was like a tiny spark in a dry field. The mood in the room shifted. The looks directed at Tim and Laura were no longer just sympathetic; they were questioning, speculative. One of the women tugged at my arm, her voice urgent. “You foolish girl! Your family is in the wrong here! If you keep this up and the police get involved, what will happen when they arrest your brother?” An image from my past life flashed before my eyes: Leo, wasting away in a hospital bed, his legs rotting, his spirit broken. He had been the brightest star of White Industries, reduced to a cripple who couldn’t even walk. The despair in his eyes as he faded away was a wound in my soul that would never heal. I pulled my arm free. Better to go down fighting tonight than to be slowly tortured to death later. I lifted my chin. “Since we can’t agree, then let’s call the police. Let them handle it!” My voice rang out, silencing the room. “If my brother, Leo White, truly did something so monstrous, then whether he goes to prison, pays a fine, or faces a firing squad, he deserves it! The White family will not harbor a monster!” Laura trembled, her eyes darting nervously toward Tim.

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Ordering incubi online is a trend lately, but I couldn’t afford one, so I picked one up from the roadside. But this incubus is of poor quality. Not only does he have a bad temper, but he also has no interest in me, preferring to starve rather than “eat.” I had no choice but to send a picture of his succubus mark to a relevant shop owner, asking how to discipline this model. The shop owner freaked out: “Honey!! Are you kidding me?! That’s no incubus?!” “That’s a demon! And the worst kind!” 1 After work, I quietly asked a female colleague: “What if the incubus at home refuses to eat?” “How could that be?” The colleague was surprised, “Incubi get weak if they don’t eat. Mine needs to be fed three times a week. My best friend’s is even more exaggerated; four or five times a week isn’t enough!” “That much appetite?” I thought of Raven’s cold eyes. He didn’t look weak at all. “But there are a few possibilities…” “What?” I pricked up my ears. “He might have had another master before, or he has physical issues. I suggest you ask the online shop owner.” But I was too embarrassed to tell her. My incubus wasn’t bought. He was picked up. 2 My colleague gave me an idea. No matter how cold an incubus is, he can’t resist his racial instincts. She told me to dress a little revealingly and try to seduce him. Back home at night. I stared at Raven. Dark skin, firm muscles. His features were impeccable. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spotted him by the dumpster at first glance. “What are you looking at?” Raven asked impatiently. “Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?” “No, I’m fine.” Raven had a bad temper and spoke aggressively. Unlike other incubi, who were docile and obedient. To check where Raven was broken, I reached out to touch him. Abs were fine, waist was fine too. The chocolate chest was also— “What are you doing?” Raven almost jumped up, looking irritable. “Who allowed you to touch me? Get your dirty hands off!” Strange, everything seemed fine. Could it be that part that doesn’t work? As my gaze moved down. Raven was exasperated: “What are you looking at? Zoey Zhou, I’m asking you, what are you looking at? Is that something a human like you can look at?” My colleague was right. He was most likely broken. If not broken, who would be willing to throw away such a good-looking incubus? I had to verify it in practice. I took off my jacket, revealing the semi-transparent tulle I had put on beforehand. The room suddenly became very hot. When Raven was emotionally unstable, his body would heat up, and the surrounding atmosphere would become hot too. I asked others; their incubi didn’t have this trait. Maybe there are physical differences between demons. I straddled Raven. “Are you hungry?” “…Get off me!” “Eat if you’re hungry, don’t suppress yourself.” “I said get off!” I pretended not to hear, grabbing his chin. I planted a kiss on his burning lips. Raven was furious: “What did you give me? Why can’t I resist?” “Added a little incubus-specific drug.” “You actually drugged me? Zoey Zhou! I’m going to kill you!” “You should call me Master.” “I’m not that kind of lowly creature, I, the dignified pure-blood de—” Raven stopped mid-sentence. His eyes were forbearing, like someone enduring humiliation for a greater purpose. At the same time, I felt it. The chocolate bar specs were superior, even exceeding expectations. His function should be fine. Then only one possibility remained—he had another master. Raven somehow regained his strength. And pushed me away hard. “Trying to control me with mere drugs? Humans are truly stupid!” Watching his retreating figure leaving the room without looking back. Case solved. Not only did he have another master, but he also couldn’t forget his ex-master. 3 Actually, I had guessed this long ago. After all, I picked Raven up. Ordering incubi online has been popular in recent years. I heard incubi not only please their masters but some can also do housework. I really wanted one, but I couldn’t afford it. A month ago, I found the abandoned Raven by the dumpster. At that time, he was pale and dying. I brought him home, gave him food and water. Raven was silent, seeming not to want much contact with me. I asked: “Do you remember where your home is? When you rest well, I’ll take you to find your master.” “No such thing.” “What?” “I have no master.” He was a bit displeased. But he had a name. Incubus names are given by their masters. So I guessed he was released and abandoned by his master. I kept Raven with me. But because of his resistance, we never signed a contract. Now, I understand. Although Raven had a tough mouth, he was surprisingly loyal. He actually never forgot his ex-master, right? A few days later, my guess was confirmed. On the weekend, I took Raven to see the tidal bore. Before leaving, I specifically instructed: “For the sake of eating and drinking my stuff every day, if a big wave comes, you have to protect me.” Raven hummed a “Mn,” lacking interest. But after arriving at the viewing point, he suddenly became serious. Following Raven’s gaze, I found he was looking at a girl. Staring so intently that he didn’t even hear me calling him. I guessed that girl might be his ex-master. Suddenly, a big wave hit. Raven abandoned me and rushed to the girl. With his height of nearly 6’3″, he blocked the big wave for the girl. Then, before the girl could see his face clearly, he walked away silently. I didn’t dodge in time and was soaked through. I asked Raven: “Do you know that girl?” For the first time, Raven didn’t deny it. 4 Because of getting wet, I caught a cold and curled up in bed groggily. Raven seemed unaccustomed to seeing me like this, muttering: “Getting sick from a little water, humans are so fragile.” Suddenly there was a knock on the door outside. “Hello, we received a report of an unregistered creature appearing nearby, please cooperate with our investigation.” I scrambled up: “Unregistered creature?” “Yes, according to relevant regulations, we need to take unregistered creatures away for disposal.” Wouldn’t Raven be in danger? Being abandoned by his master meant being stripped of “registration.” Should also fall into the unregistered category, right? I quickly pushed Raven into the closet. The enforcement officers came in and looked around, finding nothing. Their eyes fell on the closet. “Can we open it to check?” I blocked the closet: “Sorry, it’s full of my privacy.” “The situation is urgent, please cooperate.” “No, it’s all lingerie and things only meant for my boyfriend to see.” The two officers looked at each other. “What if we insist on opening it?” “Please respect my privacy. You demanding to inspect my room in the middle of the night is already unreasonable. If you must embarrass me, knock me out first.” They dared not use violent enforcement. After discussing for a moment, they said: “Forget it, a little girl like you probably wouldn’t hide a malicious creature.” “Malicious creature?” The enforcement officers hesitated for a moment, showing slight fear on their faces. “It’s… a demon.” 4 (Note: Chapter numbering repeats in source, continuing as intended) I remembered the news I saw a few days ago. Said there were demons appearing recently, citizens please be careful. After the outsiders left, Raven came out of the closet. He looked at me with a complicated gaze: “Why didn’t you hand me over?” “If I hand you over, you might not survive.” “Didn’t you hear them? There are demons.” I chuckled: “They are looking for demons, what does it have to do with a little incubus like you?” “…Little, in, cu, bus?!” “Yeah yeah,” I pointed to his waist, “The succubus mark is there, do you still want to cosplay a demon?” “…” Don’t know which sentence stepped on Raven’s tail. He got angry again. “But having said that,” I looked at him smilingly, “Even if you don’t like me and refuse to acknowledge me, I will protect you.” “Why?” “Because liking you is enough for me.” Just a human’s liking for an interesting creature. Like I like puppies and kittens. But Raven thought of something else, suddenly blushing. The surrounding air also became hot and scorching. “What, what nonsense… too frivolous…” But I didn’t tell him. I had decided to help him return to his ex-master. Before that, as compensation for bringing him home without permission and touching him, I would definitely protect him from harm.

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I’m a gold digger. To climb the social ladder, I spiked a rich guy’s drink, hoping to cook the rice before anyone could stop me. Even if I couldn’t become a wealthy wife, getting some money out of it would be good. The result? Damn it, the spiked drink was drunk by his dad. Even worse, I discovered he was the benefactor who had been sponsoring my education. 1 Clothes were scattered messily on the floor. The sexy lingerie I carefully prepared was torn to shreds—heartbreaking, yet exciting. The lights in the room were off all night, and the bed shook all night. When daylight broke the next day, and I saw clearly who I had slept with, my world collapsed. I had intended to sleep with Liam Thorne. Who was this? This was Liam’s dad. A young and promising entrepreneur, thirty-three years old this year, Liam’s adoptive father. Liam’s biological mother was Sebastian Thorne’s sister. After his sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident, Sebastian raised Liam alone and became his father. Liam was my target, so it wasn’t strange that I knew the situation in advance. These things were common knowledge; even if I didn’t investigate deliberately, I would have known. That’s why I was having a breakdown. He’s Liam’s dad! I wanted to be Liam’s bride, not his mother! I had put a heavy dose in that drink, not giving Liam any chance to escape. I had made up my mind to take him down. So, Sebastian, who actually fell for it, woke up clutching his throbbing head. He opened his eyes and saw me, a stiff look of confusion appearing on his mature, handsome face. Without thinking, while still naked, I knelt directly towards him to apologize. “I’m sorry, Uncle, I didn’t mean to.” Sebastian’s brow twitched. Even in such a dramatic situation, he didn’t lose his composure in the slightest. My understanding of Sebastian could only be described with words like gentlemanly and reliable. He was a very handsome man. At thirty-three, he was like wine aged just right—mellow, intoxicating, and full of masculine charm. Temperament determined everything, making even the few fine lines at the corners of his eyes deadly weapons. He was indeed handsome, but I liked younger ones, like his son. I lowered my head, trembling, and heard him let out a long sigh. “I remember you.” My heart skipped a beat, feeling like it was all over. The next second, he draped the shirt by his hand over me and whispered, “Sorry.” While buttoning up, I asked, “Uncle, you know me?” It was normal to know me. After all, I was a notorious gold digger in the circle. Seeing a rich person was like a dog seeing a bone; I would kiss up frantically. Those dissolute rich kids in the circle were afraid of me. Liam even said directly in front of others: “I wouldn’t even want to sleep with a girl like Harper Stone.” Obviously, Sebastian was a great philanthropist, gentle and approachable, yet he raised such a rebellious brat. Probably adolescent rebellion. We’re both eighteen; I understand him. Sebastian put on his clothes and gave a faint “Mn.” “I remember. Your name is Harper Stone. Since you were fourteen, I have been sponsoring your education every year.” There was no extra expression on his face. He maintained politeness, not even lifting his head, afraid to see my naked skin. The skin now wrapped in his shirt, under the influence of the drug, had been left with scattered, crazy love bites by him. After sobering up, he became a gentleman again, while I was a despicable girl who loved leisure and hated work. Oh, can’t say girl anymore; it’s woman. After I got dressed, he asked me, “You haven’t contacted me for a long time. How is it? Which university did you get into?” I suddenly remembered there was indeed someone sponsoring me. At first, I would tell him about my studies from time to time. Every birthday and holiday, he would prepare gifts for me and help me when I was financially embarrassed. So he was my benefactor. I buried my head in shame, afraid to look him in the eye. Finally, I gave a dry laugh: “Dropped out. Took a shortcut to climb into rich people’s beds. Didn’t I just climb into yours, sir?” The smile on Sebastian’s face slowly disappeared, as if he finally realized what happened between us last night. He slept with a girl fifteen years younger than him, whom he had sponsored. Sebastian’s face was uglier than ever before. After a long silence, he sighed again, frowning, covering his forehead, annoyed at his actions. Even though it wasn’t his fault. It was my reckless method, clumsily applied to the wrong person. How could a person cause such a huge mess? I knew deeply what the consequences of doing this would be. Before, he always praised me. In his heart, I was a good kid. Now the good kid had fallen into a gold digger and landed in his hands. He must be furious. Before I could apologize, he apologized first. “Sorry. “From a man’s perspective, I should take responsibility for you, but I respect your choice. If you are willing, I will compensate you.” I stared at him blankly, my brain working fast. Weighing the pros and cons, I didn’t hesitate for too long and blurted out. “Then take responsibility for me, Mr. Thorne. I want you to be my boyfriend.” Such an opportunity was hard to catch, especially for someone hated by everyone like me. To be able to hold onto a golden thigh of Sebastian’s level was something one could only wish for; it was simply a gift from heaven. I knew my clumsiness and cheapness deeply. I knew my image in his heart was completely ruined. But the moment I decided to be a gold digger, I already knew what kind of person I was. My heart was beating very fast. A vain person like me actually felt panic and nervousness at this moment. Afraid he would show a contemptuous expression, afraid he would hate me, and even more afraid he would reject me. Sebastian was silent for a few seconds. “Okay. “But don’t do this kind of thing again in the future.” My heart went cold halfway. Still disgusted with me, right? Well, deserved. If someone else said this to me, I wouldn’t feel a ripple. But he happened to be the one who sponsored my education, who had high hopes for me. And I failed him, becoming someone who would do anything for money. I felt ashamed. At this time, he said, “I know you have your difficulties. You are not a bad kid. I believe in you.” His words stunned me. In fact, I knew very little about this sponsor. From beginning to end, my communication with him was on the phone. He didn’t reveal his name to me, nor his appearance and age. He was gentle and encouraged me. My grades weren’t good. To continue receiving his sponsorship, I studied desperately, but in the end, I could only get average grades. Every time I showed him my report card, I was terrified, afraid I would disappoint him. If I couldn’t study, I could only get married. But he didn’t. Facing my self-loathing, he would comfort me: “Stupid kids also need to read books.” I failed his expectations. This stupid kid, now biting the hand that fed her. I knew I should apologize to him, then go far away and never appear in front of him again. But I had no way back. People are always selfish. I was a selfish and despicable person. He said okay, so we would be boyfriend and girlfriend from now on. Oh, if he said I was his mistress, I would be happy too. The atmosphere was inexplicably awkward for a moment. I assured him: “Mr. Thorne, don’t worry, I only climbed your bed alone. I am clean, no diseases.” Mainly because I only succeeded in climbing Sebastian’s bed alone, and it was successful because of an accident. Sebastian frowned. I thought he didn’t believe it. When I wanted to explain, he suddenly said: “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Sebastian dressed properly. His aura of righteousness was so upright that I dared not look directly at him, making me look like a shameful rat. He told me earnestly: “The cleanliness of the body does not lie in virginity.” Just like before, he always taught me many principles. Pity he had no talent for teaching children. Liam wasn’t taught well, and even I grew crooked. But he was the first person to say such things to me. Every rich guy I entangled with asked if I was clean, then immediately denied it with a sneer: “You’ve hooked up with so many guys, probably played out long ago, right? I don’t play with damaged goods.” My parents also said. Girls should avoid suspicion and not go out to play with boys, otherwise others would say I was messing around, and I wouldn’t be able to get married later, or I would be despised by my in-laws as a broken shoe. I didn’t expect that what everyone cared about, Sebastian didn’t care. Positive energy! While I was distracted, Sebastian looked at me: “Harper, I remember you are only eighteen. “Although I don’t know the reason why you didn’t continue studying, I still hope you can return to school. “If you are willing, I can let you go to school with Liam.” What? School? I dropped out after junior year. Asking me to go back to school now, might as well let me learn how to serve him in bed. Could it be Sebastian’s fetish is schoolgirls? …Not impossible. Just then, the door suddenly opened. Liam appeared angrily. Seeing the disheveled me and the messy bed, his eyes turned red, emitting a sharp scream. He cursed loudly: “You bitch, couldn’t climb my bed, so you climbed my dad’s?” Inevitable. The drug was administered; someone had to take the hit, right? I had heard too many such ugly words and was immune. Sebastian slapped him directly, silencing Liam. I was stunned, covering my mouth and widening my eyes to watch the drama. Sebastian looked angry, his voice low: “Is this how I taught you to speak?” Liam cried in anger: “You indeed didn’t teach me like this, but you slept with her. Don’t you have anything to explain? Do you know what kind of person she is? Do you want this kind of person to be my stepmother?” Seeing them arguing more and more fiercely, I quickly added fuel to the fire, afraid their misunderstanding would be resolved. “I know you hate me. It doesn’t matter. In the future, we each address our own way. You call me Little Mom, I call you Brother Liam.” Liam was so angry his face turned green. “Shut up! What kind of thing are you, wanting to enter the Thorne family door!” I sold my pitifulness to Sebastian with tears in my eyes: “Mr. Thorne, I really didn’t mean to.” Liam was even angrier: “Why didn’t I see before that you are so good at sowing discord?” He pointed at my nose and said to Sebastian: “She has long been notorious in our circle. People looking for escorts don’t even want her. She is just for your money. Who knows how dirty she is.” Then, Liam got slapped again. Hahahahahaha, I almost laughed out loud. Although I wanted to climb his bed, it didn’t affect my dislike for him. When I chased him, he despised and teased me while treating me like a dog, wanting me to listen to his instructions at all times. I love money, not him. Seeing him get beaten, I felt so good. Didn’t he say he wouldn’t even want to sleep with someone like me? Still his dad has good taste and good stamina. Sebastian looked terrible: “Apologize.” “Why should I apologize? Did I say anything wrong? Don’t cry when you get infected by her!” Liam slammed the door and left, leaving me and Sebastian in silence. He sighed and apologized to me: “Sorry, don’t mind what he said. I will talk to him properly.” I quit while I was ahead: “No need, no need. He is also worried about you.” After all, Liam was slapped twice; I was already satisfied. Sometimes people just do it for show; better not push my luck. Logically, a person like Sebastian shouldn’t be able to raise a devil like Liam. Maybe it’s genetics; after all, he’s not Sebastian’s biological son. Sebastian asked me: “About going to school, have you considered it?” Of course I agreed. Now he is my sugar daddy. Isn’t the first rule of being a canary to obey the sugar daddy’s orders unconditionally? Not to mention going to school, as long as the money is enough, I can climb a mountain of knives. “Go, I’ll go.” He handed me a key, “From now on, you can live here with peace of mind. You don’t need to worry about anything else.” “What about you?” “I will come to see you when I have time. Your task in the future is to focus on studying.” I felt something was wrong. Does he really like the schoolgirl style, or does he really want me to study? 2 Facts proved that Sebastian really wanted me to study. When I appeared at the noble international school and was in the same class as Liam, Liam exploded. “Why are you here?” He questioned directly when I introduced myself. The whole class’s attention was attracted by him. Liam’s reaction made others curious about me, the new airborne student. I looked at him smilingly: “This is a school. Of course I came here to study.” Just based on the fact that I, a gold digger, climbed his dad’s bed, he would never accept me. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t accept me; I can accept him. If Sebastian marries me in the future, I don’t mind having a son older than me. Of course, I knew Sebastian couldn’t possibly marry me. A man with a clean background and integrity like him, what kind of famous lady couldn’t he get? Just because he was a responsible good man, plus he was soft-hearted towards me whom he once sponsored, he couldn’t bear to see me go astray, so he kindly pulled me up. The teacher asked Liam to calm down. Liam couldn’t calm down and ran away directly. He was a famous dandy. Teachers couldn’t control him, and Sebastian couldn’t control him either. Beating and scolding didn’t work. Watching Liam leave helplessly, I sat calmly in the seat arranged by the teacher under everyone’s curious gaze. Liam hated me. He couldn’t stand seeing me, who wanted to be his mom, doing well. So in just one day, he spread my glorious deeds throughout the class and even the school. Of course, he wouldn’t expose that the sugar daddy I climbed onto was Sebastian. He just told others that I was a promiscuous, money-grubbing slut who would sleep with anyone as long as they had money. Those malicious rich kids found my phone number and sent me harassing text messages in the middle of the night, asking how much for a night. [Before, the minimum standard was calculated by month, fifty thousand a month. Not anymore; I have a fixed sugar daddy.] Those people thought a little girl would be thin-skinned and could be humiliated, seeing me break down and cry to satisfy their bad taste. But if these words were said a week ago, I would have agreed happily. Who let me hug a very thick golden thigh now? Only gold diggers understand Sebastian’s gold content. They didn’t give up, whistling at me in school, looking me up and down with frivolous eyes, unscrupulously looking at my chest and butt. They said I had dirty diseases and was qualified to come to school here just because I climbed up a rich man. Everyone looked at me with malice and contempt. They hated me, avoided me, spoke ill of me openly, and laughed at me: “Still a diligent chicken studying hard every day.” I didn’t think that was a rumor; just the truth. Teachers managed it, but it was useless. Those second-generation rich kids had money and power; teachers didn’t dare to manage too much. No one managed them, so they went too far, determined to dig out all my black history and make it their laughing stock after meals. They dug out that I was a repeat offender. Because my motives were too obvious and fanatical, the rich second generation in the circle avoided me like the plague and wouldn’t even sleep with me. They also dug out my home address and background. Stony Creek Village, South Hill County. A place almost forgotten by the map, remote and backward. That was my home. I had two older sisters and a younger brother. My father was seventy years old, and my mother was a cripple blind in one eye. My eldest sister got married. My twin sister of the same age was in a coma in the hospital due to a car accident. My younger brother was still in elementary school. I dropped out in my junior year of high school and did many jobs. Waitress, clothing sales, manicurist, street vendor, amusement park odd jobs, escape room NPC, foot washing girl. At most, I worked three jobs at the same time, eating one bun with pickles a day. I lasted for a month, thin as a skeleton, fainted and entered the hospital, infused with two bottles of glucose, ate the boxed lunch bought by a kind nurse, and left without being hospitalized. I had no money for hospitalization; I couldn’t get sick. If I fell, what about my sister? After doing a lot of jobs and finding that the money couldn’t even support my sister’s medical expenses. I chose to take a shortcut. I wanted to be someone’s mistress. For poor people like us who have nowhere to go, we have no dignity. My dignity turned into cheap cosmetics on my face, cheap clothes on my body, ridiculous high heels on my feet. Practicing the most charming smile, I treated myself as a product for promotion, trying to package myself as a famous brand and sell at an expensive price. But a knockoff is a knockoff. Rich people have sharp eyes and can expose me at a glance. At first, when they learned that I came from a remote mountain village and was a genuine village girl, they laughed loudly, saying rural people were snobbish. But the more they dug, the more complicated the expressions on their faces became, until finally they could no longer laugh and looked at each other in silence. Especially the initiator of this bullying carnival, Liam. That day after school, he suddenly stopped me. “So, you became a gold digger to get money to treat your sister?” I nodded honestly: “Yeah, otherwise who would be willing to shamelessly spoil themselves?” Liam still questioned: “What about your parents? Don’t they have money? If not, you can ask for social donations!” Hearing this young master’s naive rhetoric, I couldn’t help laughing. “Young master, do you know the saying ‘Why don’t they eat cake’?” Liam was silent, his face pale. “Sorry… I…” It was rare to hear an apology from this master’s mouth. “No need to apologize. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the chance to be famous in the whole school. “I didn’t mean to climb your dad’s bed. Actually, I wanted to climb your bed at first, who knew I climbed the wrong person.” How would I know that the person in the room suddenly changed from Liam to Sebastian that day? Hearing my words, Liam’s originally pale face suddenly flushed. Stammering, pointing at my nose for a long time before speaking clearly. “You you you, do you have any shame?” Realizing what he said, Liam regretted it again. “I didn’t mean that, I…” I didn’t care, “Shame can’t be eaten as food, but the money your dad gives can buy food.” I ignored his stunned expression and turned away. 3 Sebastian was a busy man. Except for caring about my studies, we had almost no communication at other times. He even rarely came to my place. This wouldn’t do. If a little lover lost the attention of the sugar daddy, that was a sign of being abandoned! His asceticism made me think he had someone new outside, making me anxious like an ant on a hot pan. To attract Sebastian’s attention, I lied that I had a fever and acted coquettishly to ask him to come and see me. Sebastian really came. Seeing me lying on the bed, he frowned worriedly and reached out to touch my forehead. “Not very hot, shouldn’t be a big problem.” I grabbed his hand that was about to retract. Seeing his surprised expression, I lifted the quilt with a shy face, revealing a slender and well-proportioned body. For tonight, I went to buy a new set of lingerie. That night Sebastian tore my lingerie to pieces, probably liked it, so I bought the same type again. Blushing, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Mr. Thorne, you haven’t come to my place for a long time. Did I do something wrong?” Sebastian’s eyes were deep. His palm was on my lower back. I bit my lip, before I could use means to seduce him. Sebastian suddenly pushed me away. “If you want to use this method to keep me, you don’t have to worry. “I said I would take responsibility for you.” His tone was not blame, nor ridicule, but gentle comfort. I sat on the bed staring at him blankly. “And about your sister.” He suddenly mentioned it, making my heart skip a beat. Probably no sugar daddy wants to raise two people, right? Money doesn’t grow on trees, let alone the other party is a critically ill patient. I got nervous. His voice was peaceful: “You don’t have to worry either. I will help you. Studying is your top priority task.” His words, contrasted with what I was wearing now, made me feel embarrassed. That kind of embarrassment of the soul was much more shameful than being stripped naked and thrown into the crowd. Body temperature retreated rapidly. I panicked and covered my body with the quilt, feeling that I had done something incredibly stupid. “Sorry, Mr. Thorne.” Sebastian smiled and touched my head. “I will make time to accompany you more in the future.” That night, Sebastian stayed over. Only he slept in the guest room, leaving my new lingerie useless. Lying in bed, I was not sleepy at all, thoughts messy in my mind. Sebastian knew my situation. From the day he chose to sponsor me, he had investigated my background clearly. We had never met. Thanks to the director who came to our village to shoot a documentary, I had the honor to be the protagonist once. God opened his eyes; that documentary was funded by Sebastian. In the lens, I was thin and small, fourteen years old, wearing ill-fitting clothes and shoes, dirty herding cattle on the mountain. That was the time Sebastian decided to sponsor me. We never met. He hid his personal information very well. If I knew that kind-hearted gentleman was Liam’s father, I would rather die than target Liam.

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