Category: English

My blood stained the freshly mopped floor again. My mother’s scream came before my whimper. “Lily! How many times have I told you? Don’t scratch! Don’t let those disgusting fluids get everywhere!” She pointed the Lysol spray at me, treating me like I was some biohazard. I curled up on the floor in pain, sobbing softly. “Mom, it itches… I can’t help it…” “If you can’t help it, get the hell out!” To keep her from getting mad, I hid all the creams the doctor prescribed. Those greasy ointments would stain the sheets, and that would drive her crazy. Today was my seventh birthday. I used the pocket money I had saved for three years to buy her a whole box of her favorite Clorox bleach as a gift. I held the box, looking up at her with hope. “Mom, it’s my birthday… My only wish is for you to hug me. Just once.” She looked at my raw, oozing arms, her face turning pale with disgust. “Get away! Don’t touch my gift with your filthy hands!” She kicked the box right out of my hands. The bottles shattered everywhere. The clear liquid soaked right through my thin dress. At that moment, I finally realized that in this spotless house, I was the only piece of trash.

My name is Lily. Lily Miller. The doctor said I have severe, generalized eczema. It’s a skin condition that’s almost impossible to cure. When the itching starts, it feels like a million fire ants are eating through my bones. I can’t stop scratching. I scratch until it bleeds, it oozes yellow fluid, it scabs over, and then I scratch it open again. My skin has become thick, leathery, and covered in deep, bloody cracks. Mom hated my skin more than anything. She has severe OCD. Mysophobia, to be exact. The sofa covers, sheets, and curtains had to be washed and steam-sanitized every single week. Every object in the house had to be in its exact spot. Not even a millimeter off. I was the only mold, the only contaminant in her perfect world. She never touched me. When she handed me things, she would throw them from a distance. If a drop of my blood or fluid accidentally touched the furniture, she would immediately put on rubber gloves, scrub the spot with alcohol wipes over and over, and then spray half a bottle of disinfectant. All while muttering about how disgusting I was. So, when I brought her that box of Clorox, smiling and wishing her a happy birthday, I was actually terrified. She froze for a second, her brows knitting together. She looked at my arms holding the box. Pale yellow fluid was oozing out, sticking my sleeves to my raw skin. “Get away! Don’t touch my gift with your filthy hands!” The kick was hard. The box flew, the bottles broke, and bleach splashed all over me. I sat on the floor, stunned. The wet fabric of my dress pressed against the open sores on my legs, sending a blinding, burning pain through my body. But I didn’t cry. Because Mom looked like she was in even more pain than I was. She stared at the mess on the floor, her chest heaving. “Lily, you ruined my hardwood floor!” She rushed to the cleaning closet, grabbed a new mop, rags, and a bucket of water. She got down on her knees, scrubbing the glass shards and liquid over and over. I curled up in the corner, watching her frantic back, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom…” She spent the whole afternoon cleaning. First, she picked up every tiny piece of glass with a cloth. Then, she mopped the floor dozens of times until only the sharp scent of lemon Pine-Sol remained. Finally, she took off her rubber gloves, picked up my ruined dress along with the wet box, and threw them into the trash can outside. She didn’t look at me once. That evening, Dad came back from a business trip. He carried a large, beautiful cake box. The moment he walked in, he smiled. “Lily, happy birthday! Look what I got you!” Mom walked out of the kitchen, her face dark. “What birthday? Look at what your precious daughter did today!” She pointed at a tiny, barely visible spot on the floor near the corner, slightly bleached by the Clorox. “She ruined my house!” Dad looked at the floor, then at me. I was in my pajamas, barefoot, smelling faintly of bleach. Dad sighed, walked over, and reached out to pat my head. Mom shrieked instantly. “Richard! Don’t touch her! She was oozing pus again this afternoon! She’s filthy!” Dad’s hand froze in mid-air. He pulled a stack of cash from his wallet and handed it to Mom. “Clara, stop. Lily didn’t do it on purpose. I’ll hire someone to replace the floorboards, okay?” Mom took the cash, her expression softening slightly. “Fine.” She turned back to the kitchen and brought out three plates. “No cake tonight. It’s full of sugar and dairy. Unhealthy. Eat this.” It was plain, unseasoned chicken breast and boiled broccoli. This was our standard dinner. Mom insisted that restaurant food was filthy. Everything in our house had to be simple and sterile. Dad looked at me, his eyes full of heartbreak. “Lily, I bought you that doll you wanted so badly.” He pushed a beautifully wrapped box toward me. I stared at the gorgeous doll, but I didn’t dare reach out. I looked up at Mom. Mom said coldly, “Stuffed toys collect dust and dust mites. It’s not going in your bedroom. It stays in the living room cabinet.” “And,” she glared at me, “before you touch it, you wash your hands three times with the antibacterial soap.” My hands couldn’t handle soap. The doctor had warned us that my skin barrier was completely destroyed. Any harsh soap would make it worse. I lowered my head and whispered, “I don’t want it, Dad.” Dad’s face tightened. “Clara, can you be reasonable for once? It’s her birthday!” “I am being reasonable!” Mom’s voice spiked. “Richard, if I didn’t keep this house spotless, we’d be living in a dump! Your daughter’s disease is because she’s dirty! If she was as clean as me, she would’ve been cured long ago!” This was what I had heard my entire life. The doctors said my eczema was genetic, an immune system issue. But Mom was convinced it was because I was dirty. Dad looked like he wanted to argue, but he looked at me and swallowed his words. Silently, he put the doll back into the bag. My birthday dinner ended just like that. That night, I lay in bed, the itching absolutely agonizing. I didn’t dare scratch. If I bled and ruined the sheets, Mom would lose her mind. I dug my fingernails deep into my palms, using a different kind of pain to distract myself. Just when I couldn’t take it anymore, my door creaked open. Dad walked in. He held a tube of ointment—the new one the doctor prescribed today. “Lily, let me put some cream on you.” He sat on the edge of my bed and unscrewed the cap. I immediately shrank back, shaking my head in terror. “No, Dad, we can’t.” “Why not?” “Mom will be mad… The ointment is greasy. It’ll stain the sheets.” Dad’s eyes welled with tears. Looking at my skin, a patchwork of old scars and raw wounds, his voice cracked. “Oh, sweetie… you’re sick. You need the medicine. If the sheets get dirty, I’ll wash them.” “It won’t work,” I whispered. “Mom will smell it.” Mom had a nose like a bloodhound. Any unfamiliar scent would trigger her. “Dad… am I really that dirty?” Dad was silent for a long time. Then, with a raspy voice, he said, “You are not dirty, Lily. You are my beautiful, perfect little princess.” He pulled me into a tight hug. His embrace was warm, smelling faintly of cologne and tobacco. It was the only scent in this house that didn’t smell like bleach. I buried my face in his chest, and the tears I had held back all day finally poured out. But I didn’t dare make a sound. I was too afraid Mom would hear.

The next morning, Dad was called away early by an urgent call from his office. Before leaving, he slipped the ointment under my pillow and begged me to use it. I stared at the tube for a long time. In the end, I pulled it out and hid it in a metal tin under my bed. That tin held every cream and ointment the doctors had ever prescribed. And a tiny diary. I opened the diary and scribbled a line with a pencil: *Mom doesn’t like the smell of the cream. To make her happy, I won’t use it anymore.* I thought that if I could just stay “clean,” Mom would love me. She would hug me. But I was wrong. Without the medicine, my eczema flared up with a terrifying vengeance. Huge patches of my skin turned raw and blistered. The yellow fluid seeped into my clothes, gluing the fabric to my wounds. Every movement tore at my skin, sending white-hot pain through my body. I was terrified of Mom finding out. I started wearing long sleeves and pants, wrapping myself up tight. During meals, I sat as far away from her as possible. When I walked, I hugged the walls, terrified of accidentally brushing against her. But my behavior eventually made her suspicious. That Tuesday afternoon, our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, came to clean. Mrs. Gable was the only person who wasn’t afraid of my skin. When she used to cook for us, she would secretly make me soothing herbal teas to help with my skin. But Mom eventually fired her from full-time work, claiming she “wasn’t thorough enough.” She only allowed her to come once a week for deep cleaning. Mrs. Gable saw me bundled up in thick long sleeves, my face pale. She asked softly, “Lily, sweetie, are you feeling okay? Why are you wearing so many layers?” I shook my head, too scared to speak. Mom, who was vacuuming the rug, turned off the machine. “How could she be sick? She’s just acting out again.” She walked over, her sharp, critical eyes scanning me. “Lily, roll up your sleeves.” “Mom, I’m… I’m cold.” “The heater is on. How are you cold?” Mom sneered. “I’m going to count to three. One, two…” I began to tremble, tears brimming in my eyes. Mrs. Gable couldn’t bear to watch. She tried to intervene. “Clara, maybe she’s just feeling a bit under the weather. Let me take her to her room to change.” “Mind your own business!” Mom grabbed my arm and yanked my sleeve up violently. The fabric dragged across my skin, exposing the horrific sight underneath. My entire forearm was a bloody mess. Swollen, raw, oozing yellow fluid, and crusted with thick, sickly scabs. It looked like rotting meat. “Ah!” Mom let out a bloodcurdling shriek and threw my arm away. She stumbled back, her face white. Mrs. Gable gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god! Lily! What happened to your arm?!” She reached out to check my wounds. But Mom blocked her, looking absolutely hysterical. “Don’t touch her! She’s covered in bacteria! It’s contagious!” She pointed at me, her face twisted in pure disgust. “Lily! You disgusting monster! Why didn’t you say anything?! Were you trying to turn my entire house into a petri dish?!” I shrank into a ball, sobbing and shaking my head. “Mom, no… I didn’t…” “Don’t lie to me!” Mom stormed into the bathroom, grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol, unscrewed the cap, and poured it directly onto my raw arm. “AAAHHH!” A piercing scream tore from my throat. The alcohol soaked into the open flesh. It felt like a thousand white-hot needles stabbing into my bones. I thrashed on the floor, weeping and hyperventilating. “Mom! It hurts! Please, it hurts so bad!” “It’s supposed to hurt! I’m sterilizing you! I won’t let you spread your filth in my house!” Terrified, Mrs. Gable lunged forward and wrestled the bottle out of Mom’s hands. “Clara! Are you insane?! Stop it! You’re going to kill her!” “Get off me!” Mom shoved Mrs. Gable away. “This is my house! I am disciplining my daughter! You have no right to interfere!” Mrs. Gable stumbled, nearly falling over. She looked at my frantic, maniacal mother, and then at me, writhing in agony on the floor. Her eyes filled with tears. “Clara, you can’t keep doing this! Lily needs to go to the hospital! You are going to kill her!” “Kill her?” Mom laughed, a cold, chilling sound. “Look at her! She’s a curse living like this! I am saving her! I am making her clean!” She threw the alcohol bottle aside, ran back to the cleaning closet, and pulled out a heavy, stiff-bristled scrub brush. “I am going to scrub this filth off your body once and for all!” When I saw that brush, my heart stopped. That was the brush she used to scrub the toilet tile grout. The bristles were as stiff as steel wire. She wanted to use that on my open wounds. “No! Mom! Please! No!” I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, desperately trying to get away. Mrs. Gable threw herself at Mom’s legs, crying out, “Clara, please! I beg you! Stop! She’s your own daughter!” “So what?!” Mom shrieked, completely detached from reality. “My life cannot have any stains! She is the biggest stain of all!” She kicked Mrs. Gable away and advanced toward me, raising the brush. I squeezed my eyes shut, completely hopeless. Right then, the front door slammed open. It was Dad. He took in the scene, freezing in shock. The next second, he roared like a wounded animal. He charged forward, ripped the brush out of Mom’s hand, and threw it across the room. “Clara! What the actual fuck are you doing?!” His roar shook the walls. Mom was stunned by his rage, standing frozen. Ignoring her, Dad dropped to his knees, gently scooping me into his arms. The moment he saw my bloody, raw arms, tears streamed down his face. “Lily… my sweet Lily…” He held me tight, sprinting out of the house like a madman. “Mrs. Gable, call 911!” That was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

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While we were relaxing in the hot tub at a mountain spa resort, my husband’s so-called “female bestie” suddenly shoved me underwater. She ripped my swimsuit and exposed my bare back to everyone. “Oh my god, Tyler! Your wife actually has a massive birthmark on her back! How do you even get turned on by this? Hahaha…” I struggled to stand up, instinctively trying to cover myself. But I saw her covering her mouth, giving me a smug, provocative look. “He didn’t know anything about girls at first. I was the one who practically taught him how to please a woman!” “Don’t get me wrong, Clara. There are no secrets between us. I know way more than just this!” My brain went completely blank. I looked at Tyler in sheer disbelief. But he just sat there with a lazy smirk on his face, not caring at all. When he finally caught my icy glare, he cleared his throat and spoke up half-heartedly. “Alright, Chloe. Clara is thin-skinned. Why are you teasing her like that?” He was talking to Chloe. But there wasn’t a single shred of blame in his voice. Instead, his tone made it sound like I was the one being overly sensitive and dramatic. Chloe glanced at me, probably noticing that my face had gone pale. She gave a half-assed apology. “Fine, fine. My bad, okay?” But then, she mumbled under her breath. “What’s the big deal anyway? Tyler shares everything with me, even how many positions you guys tried last night.” “On your wedding night, he was on a FaceTime call with us in our Snapchat group. We heard you guys half the night!” Even though she lowered her voice, the spa area had gone completely quiet. Every single word cut straight into my ears. I was shaking with pure rage. I had never, in my wildest dreams, imagined something so repulsive was happening behind my back. Sensing the tension, one of Tyler’s friends quickly tried to smooth things over. “Sorry, Clara. Chloe spends too much time hanging out with us guys. She has no filter. Please don’t take it to heart.” “Yeah, Clara. Chloe always tells us in private how she wishes she could be as pretty as you. She didn’t mean any harm.” Chloe didn’t mean any harm? That was the biggest joke I had ever heard. I ignored them and looked straight at Tyler. “Do you think this is okay too?” I asked, my voice cold as ice. He frowned, finally giving Chloe a warning look. “Chloe, shut your mouth.” Seeing him take my side, my chest loosened just a tiny bit. But in the next second, Chloe threw a tantrum. “Are you serious, Tyler? I just told the truth! What did I do wrong?” “And you, Clara. Stop acting so holy. Don’t tell me you girls don’t talk about dirty stuff when you hang out?” “Don’t turn this into some gender war. To these guys, I’m just one of the boys. Why are you being such a drama queen?” She sounded so offended, as if I was the one who had bullied her. At that moment, Tyler reached out and grabbed my hand. “Alright, babe,” he whispered. “Chloe just has a guy’s personality. She gets fired up easily and doesn’t understand how girls think. Just let it go.” Let it go? Why the hell should I let it go? I let out a cold laugh. “I, Clara Miller, don’t let things go.” Before any of them could react, I lunged forward, grabbed Chloe by her hair, and shoved her face-first into the water. Then, I grabbed her bikini top and ripped it right off. She screamed, splashing frantically as she tried to cover herself, but it was too late. A rush of adrenaline hit me. I sneered at her. “No wonder you can only be ‘one of the guys.’ With a body like that, even with the lights off, no man would ever get turned on by you.” I don’t believe in body-shaming. But at that moment, I wanted to throw her own toxic medicine right back in her face. Chloe completely lost her mind. She shrieked like a banshee, trying to claw her way toward me. But Tyler was faster. He stripped off his own towel and wrapped it around her. He held her tightly from behind, wrapping his arms around her to keep her back. Their bare skin pressed together. They looked like the most intimate couple in the world. I looked away, feeling a chill run down my spine. Yet, Tyler seemed completely oblivious to how inappropriate they looked. He turned to glare at me. “If Chloe hadn’t been nice enough to invite you, you wouldn’t even be here!” “Apologize to her right now, and we can forget this happened!” “She’s a girl, Clara! How could you rip her clothes off like that? Have you lost your mind?” “She has a terrible temper. Who knows what she’ll do if she gets pushed too far!” I looked at him, feeling nothing but disgust. A second ago, she was “basically a guy” and “one of the boys” with “no secrets.” Now, she was a fragile girl who needed his protection? Fine. Since we were both girls, I didn’t need to hold back either. “Sorry,” I smiled coldly. “I have a terrible temper too.” I have never been the type of woman to swallow my anger. If he wanted to play dirty, I was going to play dirtier. Before he could say another word, I raised my leg and delivered a swift, brutal kick right between his legs. Tyler instantly let go of Chloe. He collapsed into the shallow water, clutching his crotch, screaming that I was a crazy psycho. I looked down at him. “Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, you don’t deserve to be a man anyway.” I turned around and walked out of the spa. I wasn’t going to waste another second of my life on these clowns. Once I got changed and walked out of the resort, the very first thing I did was call my childhood best friend, Liam, who also happened to be a top divorce lawyer. “Liam,” I said, my voice steady. “I need you to file a divorce petition against Tyler.”

Tyler and I met during a company party game of Truth or Dare. After he got my Snapchat, he pursued me relentlessly. Eventually, his sweet gestures wore me down, and I fell for him. We dated for two years and had been married for a little over a year. We had been together for almost four years. But before we got married, I had no idea this “female bestie” even existed in his friend group. The first time I realized Chloe was a problem was on our first wedding anniversary. We were in the middle of a romantic dinner when Tyler said he had to use the restroom to take a call. Instead of coming back, he vanished. He left me alone at the restaurant to drive across town and deliver sanitary pads to Chloe because she “had an emergency.” We had a massive fight the next day. He blocked Chloe right in front of me and swore he would keep his distance from all other women. But less than two months later, he stayed out all night again, claiming he was drinking with his bros. I tried to let it go. But the next morning, I received a Snapchat photo of him and Chloe sleeping in the same bed. Tyler literally got down on his knees and begged for my forgiveness. “The guys invited Chloe! It was a birthday party, I couldn’t just kick her out!” he cried, grabbing my hands. “I drank too much, Clara. I swear to god nothing happened!” “We all treat Chloe like a dude. Even if she stripped naked in front of me, I wouldn’t feel a thing!” Because of his endless begging and promises, I chose to forgive him. But that incident became a permanent thorn in my chest. It felt like swallowing a piece of glass—I couldn’t digest it, and I couldn’t throw it up. They say bad things come in threes. This was the third time. It was time to end this joke of a marriage. But Liam was right. Getting a divorce wouldn’t be easy if Tyler refused to sign the papers. If he resisted, I would have to gather solid proof of his infidelity and take him to court. I took the day off work, waiting at our apartment for Tyler to return so we could negotiate. But I didn’t expect them to deliver the evidence straight to my door. Tyler came home, practically leaning his entire body weight on Chloe. The moment they walked in, Chloe started dripping with sarcasm. “Well, Clara, you sure had fun throwing your little tantrum yesterday. Do you have any idea how much Tyler is suffering?” “He was crying in pain at the ER all night! He still can’t walk straight!” Of course I knew. I knew exactly how much force I had used. I’ve been strong since I was a kid. I used to carry heavy cases of water up ten flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. In my rage yesterday, I had kicked him with the sole intention of ruining his manhood. Did I actually ruin him? I looked down at his crotch with pure disgust. For a split second, I felt a tiny bit of guilt, but then I mentally patted myself on the back. Anyway, I was divorcing him. Ruining his plumbing just meant he couldn’t go around ruining other women. Good riddance. Noticing my gaze, Tyler growled, “Clara!” I snapped out of my thoughts and was about to bring up the divorce when Chloe cut in. “Clara, starting today, you have to help Tyler do his physical rehabilitation exercises every single day.” “The doctor said he needs physical stimulation to regain sensation. Otherwise, you won’t have a sex life ever again!” Wow. That sounded absolutely amazing. I hid my excitement and forced a curious look onto my face. “Really? Did the doctor tell you exactly how to do it?” “Of course, you just have to—” Before she could finish, I cut her off. “How about this? Why don’t you demonstrate it for me? I’ll record a video so I can study it and do it right.” And just like that, my evidence of infidelity was about to present itself.

My words caught both of them completely off guard. They probably never expected me to be this “open-minded.” Chloe actually blushed a little, looking at Tyler with a shy, twisted expression. But she played coy. “I don’t know, Tyler… What if Clara gets mad again and takes it out on you?” She was trying to remind him of my “violence.” Her words successfully fueled Tyler’s anger. His face darkened. “Why would she be mad? We’re best friends, Chloe. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He sat down on the sofa and signaled Chloe to start. At the same time, he threw me a smug, challenging look. Never underestimate how stupid a man can be. They love dancing on a woman’s last nerve, pushing her to madness, and then calling her “crazy.” If I still cared about him, I would be crying and screaming right now. But after a night of thinking, he was dead to me. A piece of trash wasn’t worth my tears. I unlocked my phone, opened the camera, and started recording. Chloe reached her hand into Tyler’s sweatpants. Honestly, the scene was so repulsive it made me want to throw up. I kept my phone pointed at them, but I drifted off mentally, looking at the wall and thinking about what I wanted to eat for lunch. I blocked out their giggles and whispers. After what felt like forever, I heard Chloe complain. “Why isn’t it working?” Then she teased him. “Tyler, come on, show some spirit!” “It’s because you’re not doing it right,” Tyler groaned. “Call me daddy, maybe that’ll work.” “Shut up, someone is watching!” The corner of my mouth twitched. Honestly, compared to these two, I really did feel like an outsider. But she wasn’t wrong. I was going to divorce Tyler anyway. I was basically a stranger now. The two of them seemed to have completely forgotten I was in the room. The touching got heavier and filthier. Finally, Chloe pulled her hand back, panting. “I’m tired.” I stopped the recording and said mockingly, “Well, now I finally believe you guys are just ‘bros.’ Otherwise, how could he have absolutely no reaction to you?” They used to use the “bro” excuse to gaslight me. But now that I said it, both of their faces turned incredibly ugly. Chloe snapped in humiliation. “What do you know? He used to please me, not the other way around!” “If I hadn’t trained him and given him experience, you think you’d have had any good nights with him?” Good nights? It was pure disgust. She stood up, looking pissed off. “I was trying to help, and she’s just being passive-aggressive. I’m leaving!” She glared at me before walking out. “If you still need my help, Clara, you know where to find me.” Once Chloe left, Tyler glared at me with a dark, venomous look. “Are you satisfied now?” I could tell his pride was utterly shattered. Usually, even after a fight, he would try to sweet-talk me. But now, he couldn’t even pretend. “She just told the truth, Clara! Did you really have to kick me?” he barked. “Besides, your birthmark *is* ugly—” Before he could finish, I cut him off. “Tyler, let’s get a divorce.”

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I was born with a natural baby-doll voice. Because of it, people always treated me like a freak, whispering behind my back. At our college graduation afterparty, I gathered my courage and handed a custom-made anime figurine—one I had crafted with my own hands—to my long-time crush, Ethan Vance. But before he could take it, his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett Thorne, smirked and knocked the gift right out of my hands. Ethan, however, bent down and picked it up. He gently brushed the dust off the figurine, and then, to my shock, dropped to one knee. “It’s adorable. I love it,” he said, his voice incredibly soft. “Chloe, will you be my girlfriend?” We fell head over heels in love. Ethan became completely obsessed with hearing me whisper sweet details into his ear in my signature anime-girl voice. To please him, I recorded private, sweet voice notes for him every single day, catering to his every little whim. On our anniversary, he took me to a private VIP lounge at an upscale club to celebrate his birthday. But inside the crowded lounge, in front of all his rich friends, he opened a folder on his phone. It was a compilation of the private, intimate voice notes I had recorded just for him. Ethan wrapped his arm around a smiling Scarlett, looking at me with eyes as cold as ice. “Listen up, everyone,” Ethan announced. “This is how Chloe Miller seduces men in private. Tonight, these voice notes go to the highest bidder.”

“And here I thought she was innocent. She’s absolute trash on the inside!” “God, that voice is doing things to me.” “How much? I’ll start at ten grand!” I felt like I had been plunged into a freezing lake. I could barely stand. The sound of my own intimate whispers blasted through the speakers, piercing my eardrums. Every word felt like a knife carving into my heart. “Ethan… why?” I choked out, my voice cracking and raspy. He didn’t even look at me. He just turned to Scarlett, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with pure tenderness. Scarlett wrapped her arm tightly around his, a cruel smirk playing on her red lips. “Ethan, I have a fantastic idea.” She looked at me, her eyes dripping with triumph and disgust. “Make her apologize to me in her sweetest, most submissive voice. Make her admit she was the one who threw herself at you.” My heart squeezed painfully. I could barely breathe. “Otherwise, we’ll just send these audio files to her parents and her college professors,” Scarlett added, her wicked smile widening. “You promised me…” Tears streamed down my face, my throat tight as if someone was choking me. “You promised no one else would ever hear these…” Ethan finally looked at me. His gaze was colder than death. “Did I? I don’t recall promising anything.” “You said you loved me!” I screamed, completely losing my mind. The room erupted into even louder laughter. “Love you?” Ethan’s best friend slammed his glass on the table, laughing hysterically. “Babe, you were just a bet between him and Scarlett!” “A bet?” A wave of dizziness washed over me. “Yeah. We bet on whether a girl with a voice like yours would be a total screamer in bed,” another guy chimed in, sneering. The guy acting as the auctioneer stood up on the central table, holding a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s special auction is officially open!” “Starting bid is five thousand! Increments of one thousand!” “Is her cheap voice really worth that much?” “Trust me, guys, you won’t be disappointed!” Vile, disgusting comments flooded my ears. My fingers trembled violently as I unlocked my phone. I opened Snapchat and clicked on a contact I hadn’t messaged in years. *Marcus, please save me…* The message sent, but I had no idea if he would even see it. Ethan noticed my movement and let out a cold laugh. “Trying to call for backup?” He strode over and snatched the phone out of my hands. “Too bad. No one is coming to save you.” He leaned down, his breath freezing against my ear. “Apologize now. Or I’ll personally make sure your family and your dean get to ‘enjoy’ your little performances.” I raised my head through a blur of tears, seeing nothing but sheer cruelty in his eyes. In that exact moment, I finally realized that the man I had loved for three years was nothing but a monster.

Ethan’s eyes turned icy as he grabbed the custom headphones I had gifted him. I had stayed up for three straight nights designing them, engraving our initials on the side. *Smash—* He slammed them onto the hardwood floor. They shattered into pieces, just like my heart. “You actually had the nerve to give me this trash?” Scarlett giggled, deliberately grinding her high heel over the largest broken piece. “Aw, Chloe, look at you. You look like a drowned rat. How pathetic.” Her voice felt like a venomous snake slithering over my skin. Every word tore at my soul. I bit my lower lip raw, forcing myself not to let another tear fall, though I was bleeding to death on the inside. Suddenly, a sharp ringtone pierced the noisy room. My phone, still in Ethan’s hand, was buzzing. “Chloe… help me…” My little sister Lily’s voice came through the speaker, trembling and terrified. “They locked me in a dark room… they want half a million dollars…” My knees buckled. I almost collapsed to the floor. “Lily! Where are you? Who took you?!” My voice shook violently. The laughter in the VIP lounge instantly died down. Everyone stared at me. “Ethan, please, let me go! My sister has been kidnapped!” I threw myself at him, grabbing his sleeve in desperation. “Lend me the money, please! I swear I’ll pay you back every cent!” He coldly shoved me off. His face didn’t show a single ounce of empathy. “Apologize first. Admit you seduced me. Then we can talk about money.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “My sister might die! Do you not understand?!” Ethan suddenly grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard I felt my bones crack. “Then you better hurry up. Aren’t you good at begging?” “Use that sweet little voice of yours. Tell everyone what a shameless slut you are.” Scarlett clapped her hands happily. “Yes! Just like that. Let’s make sure everyone hears it.” From the phone, Lily’s muffled cries were still playing. My heart was ripped in two. “Ethan, I’m begging you… please lend me the money to save my sister…” I fell to my knees, my tears finally spilling over. He looked down at me from his height, a sadistic smile carving into his lips. “For every minute you waste, the price of your audio files doubles.” The crowd started chanting, cheering for my total humiliation. Scarlett pulled out her phone and aimed the camera straight at my face. “I’m going to record this and post it on the university forum.” My dignity on one side, my sister’s life on the other. The scale was tilting violently. “I… I…” My throat felt like it was clogged with ash. I couldn’t make a sound. Suddenly, a loud shriek came from the phone, followed by the heavy thud of something collapsing. “Chloe! Help me! They said if we don’t pay now, they’ll—” The call was abruptly cut off. I completely broke down, burying my face in my hands, sobbing hysterically. But Ethan only glanced at his watch. “Time’s up. The price just doubled.” His sheer cold-bloodedness made me feel utterly hollow. I had once thought he was my Prince Charming. Now I knew he was just a demon wearing a human face.

To save my sister, I grit my teeth and forced the tears back. “I’m sorry, Miss Thorne. I was the one who shamelessly seduced Ethan.” I forced the words out in my sweetest, most high-pitched baby-doll voice. My throat felt like it was being sliced by razor blades. A look of pure triumph flashed in Scarlett’s eyes. She took a slow sip of her red wine and gestured for me to continue. “I… I know that the two of you are the perfect match.” Every syllable felt like it was being ripped out of my flesh. Ethan wrapped his arm around Scarlett’s waist, his lips curved into that smile I had once thought was warm. “Too quiet, Chloe. No one can hear you.” He used the pet name that used to belong only to us to stab me one more time. I looked up and saw nothing but mockery and cold indifference in his eyes. For a split second, a memory flashed in my mind—a rainy night when he had gently held an umbrella over my head. It felt like a lifetime ago. “I said, I, Chloe Miller, am a shameless, disgusting slut!” I screamed the words, my voice turning so sharp it practically pierced the eardrums of everyone in the room. The lounge erupted into roars of laughter. Some guys even let out crude, suggestive whistles. On the screen, the bids for my private audio files kept climbing. My dignity was being sold off like cheap merchandise. “Fifty grand!” “Eighty grand!” “One hundred grand! Anyone want to go higher?” Each number was a heavy boot stomping on my soul. I stared blankly at Ethan, searching for even a shred of guilt on his face. But he was just casually playing with Scarlett’s hair, completely ignoring my existence. My phone buzzed again. A live location sent by Lily flashed on the screen. “The money… you promised to give me the money…” I pleaded in a whisper, completely drained of all emotion. Ethan finally looked at me, his gaze resembling someone looking at a piece of garbage. “Call me ‘My sweet Ethan’ one more time, and I’ll give it to you.” The crowd cheered louder. Scarlett’s eyes gleamed with malice. I had called him that in countless intimate moments when we were wrapped in each other’s arms. Now, it was my final lifesaver. “My sweet Ethan…” Suppressing the urge to throw up, I forced the words out in my most sugary, breathless tone. Ethan nodded in satisfaction. He pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and carelessly threw them at my feet. “Pick it up. That’s all you’re worth.” The bills scattered across the dirty floor, just like my shattered pride. I dropped to my knees, picking up the dirty cash bill by bill. My tears fell onto the paper, smudging the green ink. Scarlett walked over in her high heels and stopped right in front of me. She tilted her wine glass. The ice-cold red liquid poured directly over my head, dripping down my soaked hair. “Oops. My hand slipped,” she apologized mockingly, her eyes full of venomous joy. I looked up at her, and suddenly, I smiled. The smile made Scarlett take a half-step back, a flicker of unease crossing her face. I stood up, stuffed the wet money into my pockets, and turned toward the exit. Ethan’s voice rang out from behind me. “The auction isn’t over. You can’t leave.” I paused, but I didn’t turn around. “My dignity is already sold out. There’s nothing left for you to auction.” My voice was incredibly calm—so calm it terrified even me. As I pushed the heavy doors open, I knew that whatever love I had for him had officially died. My phone screen lit up. A message from that long-lost Snapchat contact finally popped up: *I’m downstairs. Don’t be afraid.* A small spark of warmth flared up in my chest, only to be instantly frozen over. No. I would never trust anyone ever again.

Scarlett sneered, stepping closer to me. “Who do you think you are?” she whispered, her voice low and toxic. “You’re nothing but a toy. If Ethan wants you on your knees, you stay on your knees.” Her eyes held a deep, irrational hatred that I would never understand. I stared at her pretty face blankly, wondering how someone could hate me this much for no reason. Suddenly, her expression shifted. It was the look of a predator watching its prey fall into a trap. “Ah!” Scarlett shrieked, throwing her body backward with dramatic force. She deliberately scraped her elbow against the edge of a marble table as she fell, immediately bruising the skin. “It hurts so much…” she cried, clutching her arm as tears instantly flooded her eyes. Before I could even process what happened, Ethan rushed over. “Scarlett!” his voice panicked. He shoved me out of the way so hard I stumbled backward into a chair. “Chloe! Did you do that on purpose?!” Ethan yelled, his eyes blazing with fury. “You know she has an old injury there, and you shoved her?!” “I didn’t…” I tried to explain, but my voice cut out. Ethan’s face was dark with rage. His eyes locked onto the silver necklace around my neck. It was a cheap necklace. Lily had saved up her lunch money for a whole year when she was ten just to buy it for my birthday. *“Chloe, when I grow up, I’m going to buy you the biggest diamond in the world!”* her little voice echoed in my memory. But now, Ethan reached out and violently ripped the necklace off my neck. The thin chain dug into my skin, leaving a sharp, red scratch. He threw the necklace onto the floor right next to Scarlett. “Keep it,” he said coldly. “Consider it her apology.” My neck felt cold. I touched my bare skin, my vision blurring. Scarlett picked up the broken necklace, a smirk returning to her face. “It’s cheap and tacky, but I suppose I’ll take it.” Ethan glared at me, disgusted that I was still standing there. “What are you waiting for? Get down on your knees and apologize to Scarlett!” My legs felt like lead. I couldn’t move a single inch. This was not the Ethan I knew. “Are you deaf?” his patience completely evaporated. He raised his hand, holding his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. “Since you want to play difficult, don’t blame me for what happens next!” His voice was ruthless. The screen showed the file-sharing app, ready to blast my private audio files to the entire school database. The guy acting as the auctioneer mocked, “Looks like the lady wants to do this the hard way.” I closed my eyes in despair, waiting for the final blow. Right at that exact second— *BANG—* The heavy double doors of the VIP lounge were kicked off their hinges, slamming onto the floor with a deafening crash. “Let’s see who dares to touch her!”

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Three years ago, I used every trick in the book to get Sebastian Sterling to marry me. Three years later, his first love returned to the country, and I calmly demanded a divorce at his family’s annual gala. Looking at the guests around the table—some pitying me, others gloating—I elegantly wiped away a tear that didn’t even exist. Nobody knew that this entire marriage had been a chess game I carefully designed from the very beginning. When the lawyer handed over the divorce papers, I looked at the final signature on the stock transfer agreement. I gently slipped off the wedding ring that had never quite fit my finger. Sebastian, you played the part of the devoted billionaire husband beautifully. But my paycheck has cleared, and I’m officially checking out of this show. My laptop chimed. It was an anonymous email with a grainy picture attached, taken at the airport’s private VIP terminal. The stunning, elegant woman in the photo was Vivian Sinclair. Three years. She was finally back. My fingertips trembled slightly. My mind drifted back to three years ago, the night Sebastian’s grandfather was on his deathbed. That was also the night Vivian left the country to pursue her career, leaving Sebastian to drown his sorrows at a shady downtown club. He went missing, and the entire Sterling Enterprises fell into complete chaos. But I knew this was my golden ticket. Sebastian was too bright, a star shining in the sky. A girl like me, living in the dirt, never felt worthy of him. Only when he fell from his pedestal could I finally steal my way into his life. I used every connection I had to find him. That night was the first time I dialed the number I had memorized by heart. It was the private number printed on a business card he’d slipped into my hand at a charity gala months ago, after he had a few drinks. He had said, “Call me if you ever need help.” A casual remark to him, but a sacred promise to me. The phone rang and rang, but nobody picked up. Anxiety clawed at my chest. I called everyone I knew, pulled every favor, and finally tracked him to a VIP lounge in a secluded club. The heavy scent of whiskey hit me the moment I pushed the door open. The lounge was dimly lit, glasses shattered all over the floor. Sebastian was slumped on the leather sofa, his tie loosened, his face pale. He was still clutching a half-empty bottle. At that moment, my heart squeezed. I couldn’t tell if it was pity, or a dark, secret sense of triumph. I rushed over and gently tapped his cheek. His skin was burning hot. He opened his eyes groggily, his gaze unfocused. Suddenly, I wrapped my arms around him. Tears poured out of my eyes, soaking his expensive bespoke suit. Two percent of those tears were for him. The other ninety-eight percent were for myself. After that night, I became his savior. I made him shave, accompanied him to the office to handle crises, and cooked him homemade soup to soothe his alcohol-wrecked stomach. I forced myself into his life, almost aggressively. I had just graduated back then, working a miserable internship that barely paid three thousand dollars a month. To save money, I walked to work every single day. Every penny I saved went into buying him high-end organic groceries and supplements. The free snacks and water in our office pantry became my main meals. When I was starving, I chewed on stale bread. Whenever my blood sugar crashed, a single piece of chocolate from a coworker felt like a gift from heaven. But I did it all with a smile. The darkness in Sebastian’s eyes seemed to slowly melt away under my stubborn, clumsy care. He recovered. He got back to the gym, back to running his empire, and back to being the untouchable heir to the Sterling fortune. Everyone around us assumed we were going to get married. I was naive enough to believe it, too. But in reality, we were just “best friends.” What a joke of a title. He never once said he loved me. And I spent almost everything I had just to keep this fragile bond alive. But he was Sebastian Sterling. He was the guy who had given me the only warmth in my life when I was sixteen and living through my absolute worst nightmare. The year my mother got critically ill, I worked three jobs at once, constantly running between the hospital and my shifts. My relatives only sneered at me with cold, harsh words: “What’s the point of a girl getting a college degree anyway? You should just find a man to marry and get it over with.” The world’s judgment is always the sharpest blade. I almost believed them, but I refused to give up. So I worked myself to the bone, cared for my mother, and secretly studied for my exams late at night. The taste of eating stale bread while crying was as bitter as life itself. Coming back to the hospital after a late shift, I would quietly wipe the sweat from my mother’s forehead. I knew my father had already started a new family with his new wife. My stepmother openly called me a “freeloader” behind my back, telling everyone I would never amount to anything. That was when I realized you can only rely on yourself. I even had a dark, twisted thought that if my mother passed away, it might actually be a release for both of us. Forgive my selfishness. I was just so desperate to claw my way out of that muddy swamp. So when Sebastian fell, I didn’t hesitate to grab him like a lifeline. When he was at his lowest, I spent all my savings to help him pull through. I watched that man—the one I used to look up to like a god—let down his guard in front of me, his eyes filled with raw vulnerability. Why did I do it? Because if he stayed ruined, my only chance of changing my destiny would be completely destroyed. Only Sebastian was different. Back in high school, he was the student council president. He was the one who stopped the kids from bullying me, and he was the one who secretly paid off my mother’s medical bills when she was dying. So, before he belonged to someone else, I was willing to pay any price to keep him. I worked myself to death just to stand by his side. Until one day, at a major business forum, he was the keynote speaker. The spotlight hit him, and he smiled at me from the stage. “Ms. Vance, we meet again.” He remembered me. It was perfect. I reached out and shook his hand, feeling like I had just grabbed the key to a whole new world. “Mr. Sterling, long time no see.”

It was a cliché beginning, but I was just thrilled to finally step into his world. I would wait until he finally saw me—or until I completely gave up hope. Three years was long enough to burn out all my patience. So, the moment I got the text that Vivian Sinclair was back, I decided to personally bring down the curtain on this long, one-woman show. I booked a table at a Michelin-star restaurant and invited Sebastian. I wore a black backless dress that made my skin look incredibly pale. It was a style I had never dared to wear before. My collarbones stood out sharply. I even sprayed the perfume he liked best. If he liked it, I wouldn’t mind dressing like this forever. The scar on my lower back—the one I got while saving his life years ago—was subtly exposed to the air. I was no longer hiding my wounds. Everything was set, except Sebastian was forty minutes late. When he finally rushed in, his face wore his usual, intoxicatingly handsome look of apology. I didn’t even look at him. I turned to the waiter and ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu—a bottle that cost what I used to make in a year. Sebastian froze, trying to stop me. “Chloe, this is a bit much…” I raised my hand to cut him off, my voice so calm it surprised even myself. “I can afford it.” Of course I could. After he took back control of Sterling Enterprises, he threw plenty of business resources my way, calling it “payback.” I took it all. I wasn’t proud. Having lived through extreme poverty and helplessness, I understood the power of money better than anyone. I never wanted to go back to the days of begging people for loans just to cover hospital bills. I swirled the wine in my glass like a proper socialite, but a drop of the dark red liquid spilled, staining the snow-white tablecloth like a drop of fresh blood. I laughed, the sound ringing out a bit too clearly in the quiet restaurant. Sebastian watched me, his eyes unreadable. I didn’t know how much I drank. My last memory of that night was the spinning chandelier and Sebastian’s strong arms carrying me out. When I woke up, I was in a luxury hotel suite. The air was filled with a rich, unfamiliar cologne. Sebastian’s face was inches away from mine, his skin flushed with an unnatural warmth. My fingers were tightly gripping his collar. Two of his buttons had popped open, revealing his muscular chest. Driven by some crazy impulse, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. His body went rigid. His hand instinctively reached up to push me away. But I just laughed, leaning closer, our warm breaths tangling together. “Don’t you want me?” My voice was thick with alcohol, dripping with honeyed poison. “Or are you still waiting for Vivian?” That name was like a bucket of ice water. He froze instantly. His muscles tensed, and his entire body turned to stone. See? Men are so predictable. I let out a soft giggle, my fingertips tracing his burning skin. “Don’t be so serious, Sebastian. Anyone would think I’m forcing you. Aren’t you happy?” He remained silent, but his hand suddenly moved. His warm fingers gently brushed over my lips. His other hand slowly slid down to my lower back, tracing the raised scar with painful accuracy. “Does it still hurt?” His voice was incredibly raspy. My mask almost shattered right then and there. I closed my eyes tight, my breath hitching in my throat. His fingertips moved with a tenderness that felt almost like pity, tracing that ugly mark. The next second, a soft kiss fell on the corner of my eye. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. Just those two words. I knew right then—I had won, but I had also lost. In this war I had so carefully planned, my heart had surrendered to him a long time ago. I left before the sun came up. The thick carpet of the hotel hallway swallowed all sound, like a silent goodbye. Standing in the chilly morning breeze, I called my assistant, Amy. My voice was light, carrying just the right amount of gratitude. “Hey Amy, thanks for helping me pull off that stunt with the Vivian news. Yeah, I know you were just looking out for me. Sebastian just needed a little… push.” “I do feel a bit bad for Vivian, haha. Anyway, dinner’s on me next time. How’s that investment portfolio I recommended working out for you?” I hung up, touched the fading scar on my lower back, and let a cold smirk slip onto my face. Thank you, my beautiful old scar. The performance was a massive success.

When I was twenty, I thought love was as pure as a fairy tale. But I learned very early on that what keeps two people together isn’t just love. It’s leverage, dependence, guilt, habit, and calculation. And I just needed to hold onto Sebastian Sterling. He was my best bet, my only ticket to the upper class. How could I ever let him go? I knew he was torn, struggling to weigh his options. But I wasn’t in a rush. I had my own plans to execute. Through an executive headhunter, I landed a high-level position at Sterling Enterprises. The day he saw me standing in his office as the new director, he literally jumped out of his leather chair in shock. He tried to corner me for a chat several times, but I smoothly dodged him every single time. Until one night, he waited for me outside my apartment. The night was pitch black. His eyes were filled with desire, conflict, and a chaotic mess of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. When he leaned down to kiss me, the name that slipped from his lips was like a knife driving straight through my chest. “Vivian…” At that moment, my heart sank to the bottom of the ocean. But the smile on my face only grew wider and brighter. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice urgent, as if trying to prove something to himself. “Vivian is never coming back,” he added, more to convince himself than me. “So,” I interrupted, my voice soft like a sigh but sharp as a razor, “you want me to be her substitute?” “I never said…” He tried to explain, his eyes darting away. “Sure, I’ll marry you,” I said, looking him dead in the eye, making it sound like the most sacred vow. “Sebastian, remember this. I would give up anything for you.” I reached up and covered his eyes with my hand. I didn’t dare look into them. I was afraid of seeing his hesitation, and even more afraid he would see the cold, loveless determination in mine. That night, I cried until I lost my voice, letting out every ounce of misery I had bottled up over the years. He held me tight, rubbing my back in silence, incredibly gentle. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep. In my hazy consciousness, I think I mumbled, “Sebastian, I don’t actually love you…” The last thing I remembered was him letting out a very low, quiet chuckle, whispering something back that faded into the night. The next morning, the space beside me was cold. As expected. I numbly got up to change. Just as I was down to my lingerie, the bedroom door swung open. Sebastian stood there, frozen, holding a breakfast tray. He was wearing my ridiculously cute pink rabbit apron. The air instantly turned to ice, and both of our ears flushed bright red. “Morning. Breakfast is ready,” he said, looking like a little boy who got caught stealing cookies. “You’re too thin. Eat up. I can drive you to the office after?” I nodded. As he turned to leave, he paused, his gaze dropping back to the scar on my lower back. “Does it still hurt?” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “I’m used to it.” The pain had moved to my heart a long time ago. He just didn’t get it. Sebastian’s cooking was surprisingly amazing. For a while after that, we actually lived like a deeply in love couple. He stayed late at the office with me, wrapped his heavy coat around me to kiss me in the pouring rain, took me to private galleries on weekends, and bought me a luxury penthouse with a deed hidden in a sea of red roses for my birthday. We named our new home “Sunrise” and started planning a trip around the world. That luxury condo actually started to feel like a real home. He was more perfect, more attentive, and more of a dream husband than I had ever imagined. I almost let myself believe that happiness was finally within my reach. But a string in my heart remained pulled tight, never relaxing for a second. I knew that stolen joy always had to be returned. Borrowed light eventually goes out. I never complained about my bad luck, because I had already learned how to survive in the dark. The divorce papers went through incredibly smoothly. Sebastian didn’t even glance at the heavy terms I had carefully drafted—terms that would take a massive bite out of his assets. He just signed his name with a sharp, decisive stroke, looking as cold and calculated as he did making multi-billion-dollar deals in the boardroom. “Chloe,” he said, putting down his pen and looking up at me. His eyes were like a dark, bottomless ocean, showing absolutely no emotion. “Thanks for these three years. You worked hard.”

I pulled on my perfect corporate smile, looking like I was facing a tough business rival. “You’re welcome, Mr. Sterling. It was just business. We both got what we wanted.” He went quiet for a second, then let out a very soft chuckle. There was a tone in that laugh I couldn’t quite read, and it made my fingers twitch. “Right. We both got what we wanted,” he repeated. He stood up, his tall figure casting a long shadow that completely wrapped around me. “Well, I wish you a very successful future, Ms. Vance. I hope you get everything you ever wanted.” He called me “Ms. Vance,” not “Chloe.” I kept my cool, watching him walk away without a single backward glance. The heavy office door clicked shut, cutting off his tall figure. The faint scent of his cedarwood cologne still hung in the air, cold and distant. I slowly sat back down in my leather chair, spinning around to look out at the sprawling, glittering city skyline below. The single piece of paper in my hand felt light, but it carried the weight of a mountain. It held all my calculations, my lies, and my patience from the past three years. In exchange, it gave me the massive wealth I needed to secure my future. I won, didn’t I? I slowly swirled the amber liquid in my crystal glass and downed it in one go. The burning sensation scorched my throat, but it felt incredibly satisfying. Goodbye, Sebastian. Actually, let’s make it “never see you again.” Over the next few days, I moved fast. I took over my newly acquired shares and stepped into a highly promising tech startup I had been eyeing for months, becoming its majority shareholder and actual boss. I moved into a luxury penthouse overlooking the river. My walk-in closet was stuffed with the latest designer clothes. I never had to look at a price tag again. I got everything I ever dreamed of. Until a week later, when my head secretary knocked on my door with a weird look on her face. “Ms. Vance, we just received a… package. It’s addressed directly to you.” It was an old, elegant rosewood box. There was no card, no return address, just a faint, incredibly familiar scent of cedarwood. My chest tightened, but I kept my face blank. “Who sent it?” “The courier didn’t say. They just said it was… to return something to its rightful owner,” the secretary replied hesitantly. “Should I run it through security?” I waved her off and waited for her to leave before opening the box, my fingers slightly cold. Resting on the black velvet lining inside was a very familiar, simple platinum ring. It was the wedding ring I had “accidentally” dropped behind the headboard of our hotel suite—the ring I had worn for three years, with “Chloe & Sebastian” engraved on the inside. Why the hell was it here?! I thought he would have thrown it in the trash long ago! Under the ring, there was a folded piece of white paper. I took a deep breath and opened it. There was only a single line of printed text, but it felt like an icy dagger piercing straight through my armor. *“Your paycheck is cleared, but is the show really over, my Best Actress?”* There was no signature at the bottom. My blood ran cold. My fingers clenched around the ring, the hard metal digging painfully into my palm. What did he know? Since when did he know?! What the hell did this mean?! The air in the room felt thick and suffocating. The only sound was my own ragged breathing. He knew. He wasn’t the clueless, guilt-tripped husband I thought he was. These past three years, he hadn’t been nearly as blind as I thought.

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Every time I visited my boyfriend Ethan’s apartment, I was only allowed to use disposable items. Disposable hotel slippers, paper plates, plastic forks… Even when I stayed the night, he would pull out a set of disposable travel sheets for me. “I’m just not used to other people using my things. I’ll buy you your own permanent set next time.” For three years, I waited for countless “next times.” But every single time, I walked into his place feeling like nothing more than a temporary guest. Until today, when he threw a birthday party at his apartment for his assistant, Amber. The moment the door opened, Amber familiarly took out a pair of expensive, matching couples’ slippers from the shoe cabinet and slipped them on. Ethan’s friends followed right behind her, grabbing the remaining pairs of disposable slippers until there were none left. I was left standing alone at the entrance, empty-handed. “Just walk in barefoot. It’s summer anyway, it’s not cold.” Ethan didn’t even look up. He spoke to me as if he were calling in a stranger. From the hallway, I looked at the dining table. It was set with a beautiful, high-end tableware set featuring Amber’s favorite anime character. And in the far corner sat a cheap paper plate and a plastic fork. That was reserved for me. Suddenly, a realization hit me. Since everything here was disposable anyway… This relationship, which had never been allowed to see the light of day, was something I should throw away too.

I didn’t step through that door. I turned around and left. It took Ethan twenty minutes after I walked down the building to realize I was gone. “Where did you go? Everyone is already seated.” “What’s so urgent that you had to leave without saying a word?” “Is this really over a pair of slippers?” I didn’t reply. I just sat in the small 24-hour clinic, looking down at my foot. Blood had soaked through the bandage, sending sharp, throbbing pain up my leg. Three days ago, Ethan and I were inspecting a construction site when I tripped and fell into a pile of broken glass. When I fell, he was the closest person to me in the entire group. Yet, he didn’t even stretch out a hand to help me up. “If you need time off, you have to submit a formal request through HR.” That was the only thing he said to me that day. Just like the past three years, he kept his distance in public, acting like we were nothing but professional colleagues. But when Amber scratched her finger on a tiny wood splinter today… The entire team stood there and watched him spend ten minutes cleaning and carefully bandaging her finger. “Sweetheart, why are you crying?” The doctor bandaging my foot looked at the tears streaming down my face and sighed. “Did you get into a fight with your boyfriend?” She glanced at my phone, which was constantly buzzing with incoming calls. “It’s okay. When one relationship ends, the next one is always better.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the bloody cotton swab into the trash can. I forced back my tremors, wiped the tears from my face, and let out a self-deprecating laugh. She was right. This relationship was trash. It was time to throw it away. I turned off my phone. I didn’t turn it back on until I got home. The moment the screen lit up, a dozen missed calls from Ethan popped up. Right under them was Amber’s latest Instagram post. “Too drunk tonight, omg. Thanks to the best boss ever for taking care of me~” She attached a dozen photos from the party. And the last photo was of matching couples’ toothbrushes in the bathroom. “Oh my, what kind of boss is this attentive? He literally bought everything for our Amber!” “The toothbrushes and the cups in the back are matching couples’ sets. If this isn’t planned, I don’t know what is!” The comment section was filled with coworkers teasing them. Amber only replied to one comment: “Don’t talk nonsense, guys! Boss has a girlfriend!” “What girlfriend? I’ve been at the company for years and I’ve never seen her!” someone immediately replied. “Yeah, Ethan is the ultimate eligible bachelor. Amber, you have to lock him down!” For all these years, Ethan’s persona as a perfect, single eligible bachelor had never shown a single crack. And I was tired of playing along with his act. I double-tapped and liked Amber’s post. One minute later, Ethan called. “Amber didn’t mean anything by that post. She’s young and outspoken. Don’t take it to heart.” “I just bought those things on a whim to make her happy because she likes that style.” He immediately rushed into explanations. Because she liked it, he allowed her to leave her mark all over his personal space. But for me, he only had one excuse: “There were too many people today. I had to avoid any gossip—” “So I left,” I interrupted him, my voice completely calm. “My absence is the best way to avoid gossip, isn’t it?” There was a sudden silence on the other end. “Chloe, there’s no need to be so sarcastic.” “I’ve told you so many times, I’m doing this for both of our sakes—” “Ethan, is the bath towel in the left cabinet?” A sweet, dripping voice echoed in the background. Ethan hung up the phone instantly. And I suddenly remembered the only time I stayed at his place. He had gone down to the convenience store to buy me a cheap, disposable towel. I used it once and broke out in hives all over my body. I laughed at the memory. No more hesitation. I dialed a number. “Mr. Vance, about the job offer you extended to me last time… I’ve thought it over.” “I accept. I can start next week.”

The next day, I brought my resignation letter to the office. The moment I walked in, I heard the gossip. “Did you hear? Amber is being promoted to Department Manager. Ethan approved it himself!” “An assistant jumping straight to manager? What’s her background?” “What else could it be? She’s obviously the boss’s secret girlfriend!” An employee lowered her voice, her tone suggestive. “You know, last time I went to Ethan’s office, I saw her drinking from his mug!” “Seriously? Doesn’t Ethan have severe germophobia?” They giggled and whispered. I swallowed the coffee in my cup. It tasted incredibly bitter. Once, I had accidentally used his mug by mistake. He reacted like a startled bird, scolding me for making such a basic mistake. Right after that, he bought a giant box of disposable paper cups and placed them in his office just to stop me from “crossing the line.” “Chloe, we have to keep things strictly professional so it doesn’t affect our careers.” His “professionalism” was only ever directed at me. And the career he talked about… “Chloe, are you sure you want to resign now?” The HR manager looked at me with regret. “I heard there’s a promotion opportunity coming up from headquarters this year. Why don’t you wait a bit longer…” “No need.” I looked at her and shook my head. “It’s been four years.” She paused, then sighed. “True. Everyone sees how hard you work. But for some reason…” There was no “some reason.” Over the past four years, even when I worked myself to the point of hospitalization, I remained a “Team Lead” without any real power. Because Ethan told me that if he promoted me, people would gossip. “Let’s wait for a better opportunity next time.” But Ethan, I wasn’t going to wait anymore. If I wanted an opportunity, I would go get it myself. Shortly after I handed in my resignation, Ethan called me into his office to demand answers. It was a rare occasion for him to call me in alone, and he started interrogating me immediately. “Why are you resigning?” “Just because Amber got promoted and you didn’t, you’re going to throw a tantrum and quit?” “Chloe, acting out like this only makes things harder for me—” “That’s why I’m leaving,” I looked up, cutting him off. “Just like last night.” “Once I’m gone, you won’t have to worry about me anymore, will you?” Ethan froze, avoiding my eyes. “So you really are doing this because of yesterday.” He frowned, looking annoyed. “Are you trying to force me to go public with our relationship?” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I looked at him in disbelief. Just as I was about to speak, a sweet voice interrupted us. “Ethan, it’s raining so hard outside, and I don’t have an umbrella…” Amber walked straight in without knocking. “I’ll drive you,” Ethan said, standing up instantly without a second thought. He grabbed his car keys. Behind Amber, a burst of laughter erupted from the open door. “Pay up! Who said Ethan would only lend Amber an umbrella? Go order the Starbucks!” “Right? An umbrella is nothing. Ethan is driving her home himself. He can’t bear to let her walk!” As the coworkers teased, Ethan didn’t show the slightest intention to correct them. But I remembered a massive storm we had a year ago. Forget driving me home; Ethan wouldn’t even lend me an umbrella. “We are just boss and subordinate. Lending you an umbrella looks too intimate.” He had thrown a bunch of cheap, paper-thin plastic ponchos at me. He let me walk home in a torrential downpour, shivering and suffering from severe cramps on the first day of my period. “Chloe, why don’t you join us?” Amber suddenly whispered in my ear. “You couldn’t make it to my birthday party, so let me buy you dinner tonight!” As soon as she finished speaking, whispers about how I was stubborn and unsocial started spreading through the crowd. I looked at Ethan. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately kept silent. I smiled faintly. “No, thanks.” “I have a date tonight.”

Ethan sent me messages off and on for the next three hours. First, he asked who my date was. Then, he told me to stop lying to myself. He claimed that no matter what excuses I made, he wouldn’t change his decision. “Where can you even go if you leave me?” “Stop targeting Amber over and over. I’ll give you a chance for the next promotion.” While his messages were coming in, I was having dinner with the head of the international corporation who had flown in to meet me. And after dinner, I booked my flight for next week. The company Snapchat group chat was buzzing all night. It was filled with photos of Ethan and Amber on their “date.” The man who, when watching movies with me, would only buy tickets for the very front or very back row to “be careful.” Right now, he was sitting openly with Amber in a couples’ booth, cuddling close. “She’s easily scared, so she needs someone with her.” Ethan probably saw the shipping comments in the group chat, because he sent me a brief, casual explanation. I still didn’t reply. The next day, I knocked on his apartment door. “Why are you here at this hour?” The moment Ethan opened the door, a flash of panic crossed his face. I looked past him. The first thing I saw was a pair of women’s high heels by the door. “Ethan! The lipstick color you picked for me is so pretty! It matches me perfectly!” A voice drifted from the bedroom. Amber had stayed over again last night. On the dining table sat fresh coffee in matching couples’ mugs, steam rising gently. The disposable tissue boxes on the walls had been replaced with delicate linen hand towels, folded into flower shapes—Amber’s favorite. And in the bedroom, Amber was putting on the lipstick he chose for her, spraying the custom perfume he bought. Everything looked like a beautiful morning for a happy couple. Except for me. I was just an intruder breaking the peace. “She had a fever last night, and the rain was too heavy, so I let her crash here,” Ethan explained quickly, his eyes shifting as he reached for my hand. “She’s leaving in a bit. It’s the weekend, let’s go—” “No need.” I walked past him and picked up a package sitting in the hallway. It was a birthday gift I had bought for him a while ago. “We’re over, Ethan.” “So I’m taking my stuff back.” Ethan’s hand froze. He snapped his head up to look at me. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “Chloe?” Amber suddenly appeared behind Ethan, holding a coffee mug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you guys were in that kind of relationship.” She looked at Ethan with a hurt expression, then took a step toward me. “No wonder you didn’t come to my party. You must hate me.” She pouted. “But I really just see Ethan as an older brother. Let me explain—” Before her hand even touched me, she suddenly let go, spilling the entire cup of hot coffee all over my shirt. “Amber!” The next second, Ethan shoved me aside and grabbed Amber’s hand. “Don’t move! I’ll get the burn ointment!” In our three years of dating, I never knew Ethan kept burn ointment at home. After all, when I was badly burned by his hot kettle, he only handed me a pair of thin plastic disposable gloves. “I’m a guy living alone. How would I have that kind of stuff at home?” “Just run it under cold water.” He had never kept anything in his house that could be linked to having a “girlfriend.” But when it came to Amber, all his rules vanished instantly. I looked at the stain on my shirt, let out a self-deprecating laugh, and turned to leave. “Chloe!” This time, Ethan actually chased me out. “Can you stop throwing tantrums over every little thing?” “I only see Amber as a sister. You’re my actual girlfriend, so I had to—” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting him off. I didn’t give him a single glance. My flight was next week. I had hoped we could have a decent, quiet ending. But in the end, Ethan, you ruined even that.

I didn’t resign immediately because I still had one last project to hand over. The project was tied to the entire team’s bonuses. I didn’t want to walk away and drag my team down. But the day before the contract signing. The moment I walked into the office, I found a crowd gathered around my desk. “Chloe is here!” Someone yelled. The crowd turned around, glaring at me in unison. Their eyes were filled with disgust. “Chloe, why did you steal Amber’s proposal?” The person standing up from my computer desk was Ethan. “This is her hard work. You stole it just to boost your own project?” He looked at me with deep disappointment. “Do you have any professional ethics left?” Like a bolt from the blue, I pushed through the crowd in disbelief and stared at the screen. One file was Amber’s proposal, and the other was opened from my folder. The creation times of the two files were only one day apart. And mine was logged one day later than Amber’s! “That’s impossible.” I looked up, speaking clearly. “I wrote this proposal entirely by myself. Every single line is my own work.” “If anyone stole anything, she stole it from me.” “Chloe, I know you don’t like me, but the proof is right there. My file was created before yours,” Amber stood there, her eyes red. “I’ve already told you, I only see Ethan as a brother.” “Even if you like him and are jealous of my promotion, you shouldn’t try to ruin my career like this.” The office erupted. “What? She likes the boss? How does Amber know?” “Chloe must have been throwing herself at him privately.” “They’re such a cute couple, how can Chloe be so shameless?” “Did she fail to seduce the boss, so she stole Amber’s work to force him to promote her?” The accusations turned from workplace gossip to disgusting slut-shaming, each comment viler than the last. Surrounded by the crowd like a criminal being pelted with stones, I clenched my fists and stared straight at Ethan. “Ethan,” I said, my nails digging into my palms. “Tell them. What is our relationship?” Ethan met my gaze, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. But in the end, he turned away. “We are strictly boss and subordinate.” “And you are an employee who stole her colleague’s work and refuses to admit it.” My hands went limp. My heart completely died. “Fine.” “Whoever wants the proposal can have it.” “It’s just a piece of useless garbage anyway.” I looked up, smiled at everyone, and walked out. “Chloe!” Behind me, Ethan watched me leave, a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread washing over him. He remembered her saying “we’re over” and the resignation letter. But the next second, he shook his head. No way. Chloe was only doing this to force him to pay attention to her, both professionally and romantically. She would never actually walk away. Ethan was completely confident. But three days later, when he realized Chloe hadn’t sent him a single message and hadn’t shown up to work— He finally started to panic. “Help me set things up. I’m taking someone important out to dinner tonight.” He rarely asked his friends for help, but he invited them over to help set up a candlelight dinner. He had bought a expensive gift, planning to swallow his pride and apologize to her. But the moment he opened his apartment door. All the color drained from Ethan’s face. Every single gift he had given Chloe over the past three years— Was packed neatly inside black disposable trash bags, piled right in the middle of the living room! “What the hell is this?” “Ethan, are you sure this is the right address for the flower delivery?” Amid the confusion, Ethan’s phone rang. “Sir, no one is answering the door. The neighbor said the resident of this unit quit her job and moved abroad…” “What did you say?!”

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Ten years of marriage. Ethan Sterling had slept with every single one of my friends. I pretended to see nothing. As usual, I rubbed my eight-month-pregnant belly and went for my routine ultrasound. Until that day on my way to the clinic. His latest mistress, Chloe Vance, deliberately crashed her car into mine. I lay on the cold asphalt, blood pooling beneath me, begging Ethan to take me to the hospital. Ethan only looked down at me, his face twisted with disgust. “Clara, since when did you learn to pull such cheap stunts?” “Don’t think playing the victim will make me care about you. Even if you died right in front of me, I wouldn’t waste a single glance.” With that, he got back into his sports car, took his mistress, and sped away. By the time the ambulance finally got me to the ER, the baby in my womb had already suffocated. Even my mother, Helen, passed away from a sudden, fatal heart attack after hearing the shocking news. When I finally woke up in the sterile hospital room, my face was completely numb. I looked at Ethan’s grandfather, Arthur Sterling. “Let me go, Arthur. I’ve paid back everything I owed the Sterling family. With my life.”

As I spoke, my phone buzzed continuously on the nightstand. Dozens of notifications popped up on my screen. It was Snapchat. They were photos of Ethan and Chloe. While I was in the operating room, hovering between life and death, the two of them had been enjoying a wild night at a five-star hotel. In the photos, Chloe was covered in hickeys, clinging to Ethan’s chest with a triumphant, mocking smirk. Arthur, who didn’t know the full story of the car crash yet, wanted to make one last effort to save our marriage. He slid a share transfer agreement across my blanket. “Clara, Ethan isn’t a bad boy at heart. You’ve loved him for so many years. Why not give him one more chance? As long as I’m alive, no one can take away your title as Mrs. Sterling.” I didn’t say a word. I just tapped on a video Chloe had sent me. Immediately, their heavy moans echoed through the quiet hospital room. In the video, Chloe gasped, “Ethan, you left Clara bleeding on the road. Don’t you feel even a little bit sorry for her?” Ethan was biting her neck, his eyes hazy with lust. “Why should I care about her? You’re the only one I love. Even if Clara gives birth to that kid, she’ll never compare to you.” The disgusting noises made the veins on Arthur’s forehead bulge with rage. After a long, heavy sigh, the old man finally gave in. “The Sterling family has failed you, Clara. I will handle the divorce. In seven days, I will set you free.” “As for your mother and the baby…” Right then, a nurse walked in, carrying a small, silent bundle wrapped in a blanket. It was as if God couldn’t bear to see me suffer in this miserable marriage any longer. The baby had stopped breathing the moment he was born. I turned my head away. I tried my best to swallow the lump in my throat. “Bury the baby in the Sterling family plot. I will take my mother’s ashes with me.” Arthur nodded, his shoulders slumping with immense pain. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you into this family. Go, Clara. You deserve a wider, better world.” With that, his elderly, hunched figure carried the lifeless baby out of the room. The tears I had been holding back finally broke free. A wave of bitter memories rushed into my mind. My marriage to Ethan was arranged entirely by Arthur. Arthur needed someone stable to keep his wild, spoiled grandson in check. And I desperately needed someone to pay for my mother’s incredibly expensive private cancer treatments. So, we made a deal. I quit my job and married Ethan. After the wedding, I learned about Ethan’s tragic past—how he had lost both of his parents at a young age. I had seen him crying in his sleep, calling out for his “mom” in the middle of the night. At that time, I thought our two broken souls could heal each other. I genuinely wanted to save him. I wanted to build a real, happy family with him. To be a perfect wife, I spent months mastering cooking, trying to recreate the exact home-cooked meals he missed from his childhood.

I traveled to different towns just to rebuild the rustic wooden cabin from his childhood memories. I even read books and learned how to please him in bed, throwing away my own shyness. I thought we were going to have a beautiful future. But on our anniversary, he openly took my best friend to a luxury hotel. I went mad and ran to confront him. Ethan laughed in my face, throwing the copy of my marriage agreement with Arthur right at me. “Clara, who the hell do you think you are? Did playing house with me for a couple of days make you think you’re actually my wife?” “You’re just a stray dog my grandfather bought. What right do you have to question me?” “If you dare to make me angry again, I will cut off the funding for your mother’s hospital bills tomorrow!” It felt like a lightning strike. I couldn’t say a single word. Since then, Ethan became even more ruthless. Once he got bored of Instagram models, he started targeting my friends. He pushed my boundaries, over and over again. On one side was my sick mother who needed medical bills. On the other side was a rotten, suffocating marriage. I was pulled by both sides until I almost lost my mind. Once, I fell down the stairs because of exhaustion and discovered I was pregnant. Arthur begged me, “Clara, keep this child. He might be the turning point for Ethan.” “If Ethan still doesn’t change after the baby is born, I promise I won’t force you to stay anymore.” With a heart full of complicated emotions, I agreed. I never expected that after all my endurance… My mother, my baby, my marriage, and my love. I ended up losing every single one of them. I gently wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and stared out at the gray, foggy sky outside the window. Maybe the only comfort was… Both Ethan and I were finally going to be free. As I was lost in thought, my phone rang. It was Ethan. “Clara, did you run to Grandpa to complain again? You ruined my weekend with Chloe!” “I’m warning you, if you do this again, I will freeze all your credit cards!” In the past, I would have begged and apologized, trying everything to make him happy. But now, I just said coldly, “Do whatever you want.” My icy tone caught Ethan off guard. But soon, he let out a harsh laugh. “I heard the baby is born. No wonder you sound so brave now.” “But don’t forget, I am the sole heir of the Sterling empire. As long as you live under my roof, I have a million ways to make your life living hell.” I closed my eyes. Oh, I knew his ways. I had experienced them. The first time I caught him cheating, I naively asked Arthur for help. What followed was Ethan’s brutal retaliation. He threatened my mother’s life and forced me to stand in the freezing cold on our penthouse balcony for the entire night, shivering, while he slept with his mistress inside. I was hospitalized the next morning with severe frostbite and a swollen face. Whatever love I had left for him had died in that freezing night. Since then, no matter how outrageous his affairs were. I acted blind. I silently endured every humiliation just to keep my mother alive. But now, my mother was gone. My baby was gone. This dead marriage was finally, truly over. I hung up the phone without another word. I stood up and called a friend at the local funeral home to schedule my mother’s cremation.

When I walked back to my hospital room, I saw Ethan standing by the door. He frowned at me, then sneered. “Oh, look who decided to stop playing the tragic victim.” “Walking around right after giving birth? You seem perfectly fine. Guess you don’t need any postpartum bed rest.” “I’m planning to move Chloe into the penthouse. She’s young, delicate, and doesn’t do chores. Hurry up and sign your discharge papers so you can go back and be our maid.” Ethan leaned in close, a sadistic smirk on his face. “You know, the look of agony on your face is always my favorite stimulant.” He stared at me, waiting to see me burst into tears. But my face remained as still as stone. Feeling bored by my lack of reaction, Ethan stopped a passing nurse. “Where’s the kid? Boy or girl? Bring it here, let me have a look.” The young nurse panicked. I spoke up calmly, “Grandpa took the baby.” Before Ethan could say anything else, his phone rang. The moment he answered, his face turned pale. Then, he suddenly raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Clara! What did you do to Chloe? If anything happens to her, I swear I’ll ruin you!” I was already extremely weak. The slap knocked me off balance, and I crashed heavily against the metal handrail behind me. The nurse rushed to support me. “Mr. Sterling! Mrs. Sterling just went through a traumatic labor! You’re going to kill her!” Ethan didn’t even hear her. Worried sick about Chloe, he rushed out of the hospital. The nurse looked at me with deep pity. But my pale face showed no emotion. Ten years of torment had drained every drop of love and hate out of me. After a quick checkup, the doctor told me to rest. But I soon found out why Ethan was so angry. Because of the baby’s death, Arthur was furious. He had completely blacklisted Chloe from the high society and cut off her social media sponsorships. Chloe thought I was the one behind it, so she cried to Ethan, exaggerating the story. That was why Ethan had rushed over to attack me. Not only that. To retaliate, Ethan stripped me of my minor shares in the Sterling Group and transferred them to Chloe. To make her happy, he even bought twenty stars through an international registry and named them after her. In an interview on Instagram, Chloe proudly showed off her giant diamond ring. “I never think of myself as a homewrecker. If a woman can’t hold her husband’s heart, she deserves to be lonely.” “Besides, the current Mrs. Sterling only married Ethan for his money. I am different. My love for Ethan is pure.” The comment section was a mess. Chloe’s brainless fans tagged my account, calling me a gold-digger and telling me to sign the divorce papers. I looked at the screen, feeling nothing but irony. After all these years, Ethan’s way of courting girls hadn’t changed at all. Years ago, he did the exact same thing for me. When he found out I grew up poor and never had a real birthday party. On my twentieth birthday, he bought me twenty gifts. Everything from a gold baby locket to a luxury townhouse. He said he wanted to make up for all the suffering I had gone through in my first twenty years. I still remembered him holding my hand under the starlight. “Clara, I lost my parents when I was a kid. From now on, your mother is my mother. I will build the happiest home for you.” I melted in his arms. I naively thought I had found the man I would spend my life with. But soon, the excitement faded. And Ethan moved on to the next girl.

Once, during a date, he drove off to buy flowers for his mistress and completely forgot he had left me on a hiking trail in the mountains. I had to walk miles back to the city alone in the dark. My feet were bleeding, and the scars on my legs never fully healed. Actually, I should have realized back then. This man was selfish and incapable of true love. Our marriage contract was just an excuse he used to justify his cheating. Thinking of this, I left a comment under Chloe’s video: “Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness. May you have many children.” Within minutes, Chloe deleted the video. Immediately after, Ethan’s angry call came through. I didn’t answer. I simply blocked his number, just like he used to do to me. Then, I remembered today was the day of my mother’s cremation. I signed the discharge papers early. My doctor, Dr. Julian Harris, was worried about my health, so he insisted on driving me there himself. When the staff handed me the small urn containing my mother’s ashes. I didn’t cry. I just felt like the heavy chains that had bound me for ten years had finally shattered. I took a deep breath, thanked Dr. Harris, and went back to the Sterling penthouse alone to pack my things. The moment I stepped into the living room, I saw Ethan and Chloe on the sofa. Seeing me enter, Chloe quickly zipped up her dress. But the dark red bruises on her neck showed exactly what they had been doing. I didn’t feel sad or angry. I walked past them as if they were ghosts and went straight into the bedroom. By the time I finished packing my suitcase, Chloe had left. Ethan was sitting alone at the dining table, drinking. Seeing me walk out with a suitcase, he slowly raised his head. “Clara, where were you today?” “None of your business.” I didn’t want to waste my breath, but Ethan suddenly slammed his whiskey glass onto the floor. He marched over and blocked my way. “Stop acting so innocent! Don’t think I don’t know you went out with that toy boy doctor!” “Clara, are you really that lonely? Are you doing this because I ignored you lately? Fine, if you want it so bad, I’ll give it to you!” With that, Ethan violently ripped my coat open and dragged me toward the bed. I panicked and struggled with all my might. “Ethan! Are you insane? I just had a baby!” But Ethan had lost his mind. He bit my shoulder hard. I gathered all my strength, pushed him away, and slapped him across the face. Furious, Ethan grabbed a heavy crystal glass from the table and hurled it at me. Smash. A sharp pain hit my forehead, and warm blood began to trickle down my face. Ethan froze, his eyes widening. He instinctively reached out to catch me. “Why didn’t you dodge…” I stumbled backward, trying to speak, but my vision went black, and I collapsed onto the floor. When I opened my eyes again, the sound of Ethan and Arthur arguing woke me up. I was back in the hospital. Seeing me open my eyes, Ethan seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. But he immediately turned to Arthur with a sneer. “See? This is the perfect wife you chose for me. She was out hooking up with a toy boy before she even recovered from childbirth.” Arthur was shaking with anger. “Hooking up? Do you even know what Clara was doing yesterday?!”

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The year I graduated, Melanie Vance drugged me. I was set up, ended up with a stranger, and got pregnant. My boyfriend, Ethan Carter, fought his entire family to marry me anyway. He treated my daughter, Lily, as his own. He even promised to hand his company over to her in the future. But today, on our wedding day, he held the diamond ring in his hand and grasped my fingers, yet refused to slide it on. “To be honest, Chloe, I don’t really want to marry you. You disgust me.” “If I weren’t worried about Melanie going to jail, and the fact that she’s dedicated to staying single forever, I would never have chosen you.” “As long as you promise not to cause trouble for her in the future, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll be Mrs. Carter forever.” I looked past his shoulder. Melanie was standing not far away, a smug, triumphant smile playing on her lips. Slowly, I pulled my hand back from his grip. “I’m sorry, but I’ve changed my mind.” “This wedding is off.” 0Ethan didn’t move. The gentle, affectionate smile was still plastered on his face, showing no signs of anger. He just stood there, quietly watching me, his fingers still frozen in the posture of holding the ring. To the guests, it looked like I was just getting cold feet. And he, the perfect groom, was simply being patient with my childish tantrum. He spoke softly, his tone smooth and calm. There wasn’t a hint of malice in his voice. “Chloe, stop playing around.” “You’re a used woman with a kid. Who else would want you if not me?” Standing nearby, Melanie took a few steps forward. She tried to hide the sheer joy in her eyes as she chimed in, pretending to smooth things over. “Ethan, don’t blame Chloe. She’s probably just too nervous.” “After all, what happened back then was a huge trauma. It’s only normal that she has scars.” The “incident” she referred to was the trap she had personally orchestrated the night of our graduation. She was the one who drugged my drink, ruined my innocence, and stripped away my future. Because of that night, I lost my job offer at a top firm and was pushed into a corner, pregnant and alone. It was only today that I realized Ethan had known the truth all along. To protect Melanie from going to prison, he had suppressed all the evidence and hushed up the entire scandal. And because Melanie insisted on remaining unmarried, he settled for the next best thing—marrying me to keep me quiet. But what they didn’t know was that even though that night was a blur of chaos… I remembered that man’s face perfectly. Ethan might not want me, but my daughter’s biological father was out there. Still, Ethan and I had truly loved each other once. We grew up together, giving each other our hearts. We were the couple everyone thought would last forever. After my scandal, when everyone abandoned and despised me, he was the only one who stood up and insisted on marrying me. He protected my reputation, showered my daughter with love, and even promised her his estate. I believed him. I thought his acceptance was love. Ethan maintained his gentle, accommodating posture. He looked at me with endless patience. “Be good, Chloe. Come back and finish the ceremony.” “What I promised you will always stand. You will be my wife, and Lily will be the only child I cherish.” I looked up, my voice dead calm. “Didn’t you hear me? The wedding is off.” The warmth on Ethan’s face finally flickered out. The tenderness in his eyes faded, replaced by a cold, dark abyss. In the next second, the giant projector screen above the ballroom—which was supposed to play our wedding slideshow—suddenly flashed. Instantly, the room was flooded with blinding white light. What appeared on the screen was not a sweet video of us. It was surveillance footage from three years ago. It showed me, drugged, helpless, and semi-conscious, stumbling and collapsing in a hotel hallway. 0

It was high-definition and silent. But every frame was filled with absolute humiliation. It was the most shameful night of my life. The ballroom fell into a dead silence, followed by a sudden, deafening explosion of whispers. The gasps of the guests echoed through the hall. Thousands of eyes pierced through me like needles. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that Ethan had kept a copy of this security footage. He had hidden Melanie’s crime for three years. Yet, he kept the footage of my deepest humiliation locked away in his drawer. For three years, he had been gentle, attentive, and indulgent. Yet, at our wedding, at the very moment I thought I was being saved, he threw me into the mud and stripped away my dignity in front of everyone. He really did think I was dirty. He wanted everyone to see my shame on our wedding day. He wanted to make sure I could never hold my head up again, so I would have no choice but to remain his submissive wife. In the crowd, Melanie’s lips curled up into a smug grin. She had planned the whole thing, got away with it for three years, and was now watching my public execution with pure joy. Ethan looked at me, his eyes still deceptively gentle. “Chloe, as long as you behave and stay as my wife, I promise no one will ever see this again.” “Otherwise, I’ll let the whole world see just how ‘clean’ you really are.” The cold digital screen continued to loop the video. The girl on the screen was shaking, unable to even stand, sliding down the wall in desperation. The high-res lens captured my flushed cheeks and ragged breathing perfectly. Every second was a slap in the face. The whispers of the crowd buzzed in my ears, sharp and cruel. “So she really was that wild back then. No wonder she got pregnant out of wedlock.” “Ethan is practically a saint. He tolerated this shame and raised another man’s kid for three years.” “Any man would find her disgusting. If she actually married into the Carter family, Ethan would be the real victim.” Not a single person mentioned the drugging. They didn’t care if I was the victim. They all assumed I was cheap, wild, and loose. Tears welled in my eyes. “Ethan, you bastard!” I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist with brutal force. He flung me to the ground, and his foot stepped on my custom haute couture wedding gown, ripping the expensive fabric. Melanie covered her mouth, pretending to be shocked. She spoke just loudly enough for everyone around to hear. “Ethan custom-made that gown for me, and I only lent it to Chloe.” “Since she ruined it, she needs to pay for it.” I looked up at Ethan in disbelief. He had told me this gown was designed specifically for me. During the dark days of my pregnancy, when I couldn’t sleep because of my anxiety, he had stayed up all night, rubbing my back to soothe me. When my morning sickness was so bad I couldn’t eat, he had canceled his business meetings to cook soup for me, feeding me spoonful by spoonful. In the winter, he would tuck my freezing hands into his warm pockets. When I almost died giving birth to Lily, he stayed by my hospital bed for three days and nights without closing his eyes. Just last month, he held my hand in the boutique, promising me the wedding of my dreams. But in the end, all I got was this cruel betrayal. Melanie bent down, lightly brushing the tear in the fabric, her voice dripping with malice. “This is a million-dollar designer gown, and you ruined it.” “Either pay up, or I’m calling the police.” 0

I lay on the freezing floor, my spine stiff, my body trembling with cold. I looked up at Ethan, but his voice was completely indifferent. “Chloe, you’re the one who threw a tantrum first.” “You ruined Melanie’s things. It’s only right that you apologize and compensate her.” At that moment, it felt as if a dagger had been driven straight into my heart. He was allowing Melanie to humiliate me. He was letting me kneel in front of the city’s entire elite class, stripped of every ounce of my dignity. The eyes of the crowd locked onto me, filled with mockery and disdain. The video continued to play on the loop behind me. Seeing him back her up, Melanie grew even bolder. She leaned down, pressing her lips close to my ear, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Actually, back then, I was the one who told Ethan to hand you that spiked drink.” “The man you love personally handed you to another man.” “Of course, he didn’t know what was in it at the time. So all his kindness to you over the years wasn’t love. It was just guilt.” “I told you before—a piece of trash like you could never be good enough for Ethan.” My body shuddered violently. My heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds, bleeding out. The pain was suffocating. He wasn’t just covering up for her. He was an accomplice. I pushed against the floor, trying to stand up, but Ethan’s hand pressed down heavily on my shoulder. It wasn’t a violent grip, but it carried an unyielding authority. “Apologize to Melanie first.” “Don’t force my hand, Chloe. I can make sure you and Lily have no place left in this city.” Melanie took out her phone, a nasty smirk on her face. She swiped open the screen and raised her voice so the entire room could hear. “We can’t be soft on people like her! She destroyed high-value property worth a million dollars. That’s a felony!” She dialed the police right then and there. “Yes, I’m at the Grand Plaza Hotel. Someone has intentionally destroyed a million-dollar custom gown and is refusing to pay. She’s being extremely hostile. Please send officers to arrest her immediately!” She hung up and looked down at me, her eyes cold and victorious. I knew what she wanted. She wanted to blow this up. She wanted to use this to ruin me completely. Ethan’s hand on my shoulder tightened, his voice pressing down on me. “Chloe, kneel and apologize to Melanie right now, and I’ll settle this case for you.” “Once the police get involved and you have a felony record, you know exactly what will happen to Lily’s future. Think about her school, her career, and her chance of ever entering high society.” At that moment, a blazing fire of hatred erupted inside me. He was using my daughter’s future. He was forcing me to bow my head and plead guilty. He was forcing me to admit that I was the villain, the ungrateful wretch. I clenched my teeth so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I closed my eyes. I could let myself be ruined, but I couldn’t gamble with my daughter’s future. “I’m sorry… it was my fault.” My voice was hoarse, thick with unbearable agony. Hearing my confession, the guests snickered, their looks of disgust intensifying. “How shameless! Having a woman like this in our circle is an absolute disgrace.” “She only bows her head when she’s caught. Typical.” “Ethan was kind enough to take her in for three years, and she bit the hand that fed her.” Ethan slowly released his grip on my shoulder. He looked down at me, a satisfied smile returning to his face. “Good. As long as you know you were wrong. The wedding will continue.” The room fell dead silent. Even I found it hilariously absurd. The whispers stopped, and the guests stared in utter disbelief. 0

They never expected that even after all this drama, Ethan would still go through with the wedding. But the most shocked person in the room was Melanie. Her fake, gentle smile froze. The triumph in her eyes shattered, replaced by sheer panic. She stood there, her fingers clenching into tight fists. After a brief silence, the guests began to murmur again, trying to push Ethan toward Melanie. “Ethan, why settle for less? Melanie is the one who actually matches your status. You two are a match made in heaven.” “Chloe’s reputation is completely ruined. She doesn’t deserve you. You should take this chance to cancel the wedding.” “Melanie has been by your side quietly for three years. She’s sweet, sensible, and a million times better than Chloe.” Hearing everyone take her side, Melanie quickly hid her anger, looking down with a flush of mock embarrassment. I pushed myself up from the floor, wanting to leave this nightmare of a wedding as quickly as possible. But a wealthy socialite nearby, who had always despised me, glared at me with disgust. Seeing me struggling to stand, she raised her foot and kicked me hard in the shin! The blow was sharp and sudden, her pointed stiletto heel digging straight into my flesh. A sharp pain shot up my leg, making it go numb. I gasped, losing my balance, and collapsed sideways back onto the floor. My knee slammed hard against the sharp edge of the carpeted steps. A dull, throbbing pain bloomed, making it hard to breathe. Everyone saw it happen, but no one said a word. Ethan instinctively reached out to help me, but when his eyes caught Melanie’s, he froze and pulled his hand back. He saw it. He saw me get kicked and bruised. But he chose to ignore it. A flash of dark joy crossed Melanie’s eyes, but she quickly put on her angelic act. “Everyone, please stop. Chloe has had it hard enough today. Let’s be kind.” Her hypocritical kindness only made me look more pathetic and ungrateful. The guests grew even more irritated, their insults flying again. “Melanie, you’re just too sweet. Why are you protecting a snake like her?” “She has some thick skin, still clinging to the title of Mrs. Carter after being humiliated like this.” Ethan withdrew his gaze and looked back down at me. His eyes were filled with a cold, helpless impatience. “Get up. Let’s finish the ceremony.” With that, ignoring Melanie’s pale face, he grabbed my hand and tried to force the diamond ring onto my ring finger. But in the next second, I pulled my hand back, ripped the ring off, and threw it hard against the floor! Ethan’s face finally twisted in rage. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind?!” Right then, the wail of sirens echoed from outside. Several police officers burst into the ballroom, frowning as they took in the chaotic scene. Melanie stepped forward, pointing her finger at me. “Officers, it’s her! She destroyed my million-dollar custom gown, and she’s trying to scam her way into a marriage!” The two officers stepped forward, reaching out to grab my wrists to take me in for questioning. The crowd watched coldly, laughing at my downfall. Melanie smirked, waiting to see me thrown into a prison cell, completely ruined. Ethan’s face darkened. He made a slight move to step in front of me, but Melanie quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Just as the cold metal of the handcuffs was about to touch my skin… At the entrance of the ballroom, a tall, imposing figure stepped through the doors, cutting through the light. His presence was so powerful that everyone froze. “No one touches my woman.” The man’s deep voice echoed through the hall. His gaze fell directly and steadily upon me. “Chloe, I finally found you.”

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Five years later, I ran into Ethan again at Daisy’s parent-teacher conference. The hallway was almost empty. I was kneeling by the classroom door, tying Daisy’s shoelaces. When I looked up, a pair of custom-made, dark leather Oxford shoes stopped just three feet away. My hand instinctively pressed down on the thick silver cuff on my left wrist. Daisy grabbed the edge of my skirt and shrank back behind me. I patted her hand gently and stood up. He stood there, one hand slipped casually into his tailored suit pocket. His voice was low, laced with a familiar, controlled tension. “Cassie, you’ve been throwing this tantrum for five years. Haven’t you had enough? Come home with me.” The metal buckle of the cuff on my left wrist felt icy cold against my skin. Suddenly, the freezing air of that winter night five years ago seemed to wrap around me all over again. I didn’t look at him. I zipped Daisy’s coat all the way up to her chin, took her hand, and walked right past him. “Mommy, who was that man?” Daisy asked in her sweet, small voice. I paused for a second. I honestly didn’t know how to introduce him.

The automatic lights in the hallway flickered out behind us. I squeezed Daisy’s hand a little tighter and quickened my pace. My left hand subconsciously reached down, pulling the thick metal cuff further down my wrist before shoving my hand deep into my coat pocket. Once we got back to The Little Elephant Library, I sent Daisy over to the reading corner to play. “Cassie, that’s the third one this week.” Luna walked over and placed a termination notice on the counter in front of me. I picked up a red marker and drew a thick line through “Springfield Preschool” on our monthly schedule board. The reason listed was the exact same corporate jargon as the others: “Per higher management’s directive, we are adjusting our external partnership list.” “I had a friend look into it,” Luna whispered, leaning in close. “All three of these preschools are heavily funded by CasStart Academy. That Ethan guy… he’s the founder of CasStart, right? Is he trying to ruin you?” The tip of my marker froze on the paper. The red ink bled into a perfect, bleeding dot on the white page. I capped the marker with a sharp click. “Don’t overthink it.” I pushed my coffee cup aside and pulled out a stack of blank sketching paper. “Go ahead and prep the watercolor palettes for tomorrow. We still have a picture-book class in the morning.” On the service road outside the library, a sleek black Maybach sat idling under the sycamore trees. Ethan leaned back against the driver’s seat. Through the windshield, his eyes locked onto our two figures—one tall, one small—as we disappeared around the corner. He tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. “Mr. Vance, the background check you requested is still processing. The child’s birth certificate is a bit tricky. There’s no biological father listed in the state registry. We’re still digging.” Ethan’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the leather steering wheel. “Don’t stop. Keep digging.” “I want to know exactly who has been hiding in her life for the past five years.” He hung up. On the passenger seat lay a worn-out watercolor brush. The little girl had dropped it earlier. He picked it up, his thumb slowly brushing over the faded, chipped paint on the wooden handle. Nine o’clock at night. After her bath, Daisy crawled onto the bed, smelling of baby soap. She immediately grabbed my left hand. “Mommy, can I wear this bracelet? It’s so pretty.” Her tiny fingers picked at the heavy metal buckle, trying to undo it. I pulled my hand back gently. “Not this one, baby.” “Why not?” “Because…” I ran my hand through her damp hair. “Because this is Mommy’s lucky charm. If I take it off, the magic goes away.” Daisy blinked her big eyes, pondered that for a moment, and accepted it. She rolled over and pulled a worn-out picture book from under her pillow. “Then tell me the story of the little elephant!” I smiled, taking the book from her. As my fingers brushed the bottom-right corner of the back cover, they felt a rough patch. It was a long strip of paper heavily blacked out with a sharpie. Deep, thick, and permanent. It had been scribbled over dozens of times. I stared at the black block for a long moment. Then, I opened the cover and began reading the story of the little elephant looking for its mother. The edges of the pages were yellowed and frayed. It was a hand-drawn storybook. Half an hour later, Daisy’s breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. I closed the book, set it on the nightstand, and switched off the lamp. I sat down on the rug beside her bed. My right fingers traced the silver cuff on my left wrist. Over and over again. In the dark, the old picture book lay silently. Beneath that thick, ugly block of black marker, there was once a line written in elegant, passionate fountain pen ink: “To my Cassie. You are the beginning of all my inspiration.”

The next morning, Luna carried out a cardboard box. “Cassie, do you still want this box of old brushes?” It was filled to the brim with heavily worn markers and chewed-up sketching pencils. “Keep them. Just put them at the very bottom of the cabinet.” I recognized the teeth marks on those pencils. They belonged to Ethan when he was seven years old. Back then, my mother was running a free community art program for underprivileged kids. There was a little boy who always hid under the playground slide. He never spoke, never looked anyone in the eye, and always tightly clutched a broken piece of chalk in his fist. His parents were alcoholics and gamblers who beat him constantly. Every single day, my mother would bring a different picture book to that playground. She would sit just two feet away from him, open the book, and read the story aloud. She did this for three solid months. When she closed the ninetieth book, the boy finally looked up. His face was bruised, but his dark eyes were incredibly bright. “Ma’am… will you come back tomorrow?” Eventually, my mother foster-adopted him. She used her meager retirement savings to buy him high-quality art supplies. She supported him through local art contests all the way to national exhibitions. He eventually won a full-ride scholarship to college. During high school, he was like my shadow. I was quiet and didn’t like to talk, so he used his sketchbook to record my life. He drew me eating cherry popsicles in the summer heat, crouching over my desk solving math problems, and leaning against the bus stop sign in the rain. There was one drawing I never forgot. The theme of his high school art final was “Home.” While others drew houses or family portraits, he drew a single hand. My left hand. The wrist was bare and clean, and my fingers held a paint-stained brush. The teacher asked him how this represented “Home.” He replied, “Wherever she is, that is home.” On graduation day, he shoved a thick sketchbook into my hands. “This is every version of you I’ve ever drawn.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with ambition and love. “No matter how far I go in life, Cassie, you will always be my very first stroke.” After college, we naturally got married. He wanted to start an educational tech company for children. On the day he registered the business, he filled out the form with the name: CasStart Academy. In the beginning, I was the entire creative department. I designed the curriculum, the teaching methods, and the parent-child reading guides. I drew over a thousand drafts under the dim light of our rented apartment, night after night. He handled the funding and the marketing. We got our marriage license, and we were officially husband and wife. I picked up a palette knife and scraped away a layer of dried paint from the tray. The night we secured our Series A funding, during the celebratory dinner, an investor patted Ethan on the shoulder and joked, “Mr. Vance, you’re young and successful. Just make sure people don’t say you built your empire on your wife’s back.” The entire table burst into laughter. On the drive home, Ethan didn’t say a word. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the knuckles of his other hand tapped hard against the car window. I looked at the tight, rigid line of his jaw. It was the exact same expression he wore when he was seven years old, when people pointed at him and called him “trash abandoned by his parents.” That night, when we got home, he sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “Cassie, come here.” When I sat down, he began playing with my paint-stained fingertips. “The company has reached a new stage. We need a more professional executive team. Starting tomorrow, I need you to hand over your role as Creative Director. You can step back and act as an advisor from behind the scenes.” I stood by the kitchen island, holding a freshly washed apple. Water droplets dripped from my fingers, splashing onto the hardwood floor. My mind suddenly echoed with my mother’s words before she passed: “He didn’t have an easy path to get here, Cassie. Be patient with him.” I set the apple on the counter. And I nodded. He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Good girl. Go check the garage tomorrow. I bought a new Porsche Cayenne. It’s registered in your name. Think of it as your reward.” The day I signed the transfer papers, the sky was completely gray. I sat alone in my office, opening the folder on my computer labeled [CasStart Curriculum Core System]. Three hundred and seventy-two files. From the very first rough draft of the curriculum to the final version of our interactive reading model. I dragged them all into the shared company drive. When the progress bar hit 100%, a notification popped up on the screen: “Transfer Successful.” I shut down my computer. I began clearing out my desk drawers. Almost every scrap of paper was covered in sketches I had drawn at three in the morning, filled with my handwritten notes. At the very bottom of the drawer lay a photo. It was a team photo taken in the office the day CasStart landed its first major government contract. I was standing right next to Ethan, holding the signed contract, smiling so hard my teeth showed. On the back of the photo, he had written: “Cassie, without you, there is no CasStart.” I turned the photo over, leaving it face down on the empty desk. From that day on, my name vanished from all of CasStart’s public materials. I became a ghost “advisor.” Even in the annual company group photos, I stood at the very edge of the crowd, almost entirely cut out.

The next morning, I took Daisy to the library with me. I set her up with some crayons behind the front desk while I sat nearby, working on next week’s lesson plan. “Cassie, someone’s here to see you,” Luna called out. I put down my palette knife and stepped out of the back room. The day I had handed over my work at CasStart, the sky had been just as gray as today. A new intern had knocked on my door back then. She wore thick black-rimmed glasses, had her hair in a messy ponytail, and was wearing a cheap, faded canvas jacket. Her name was Vivian. When she walked in, she was clutching a crumpled photocopy of a research paper I had published in an educational journal years prior. “Mrs. Vance, I chose this major because I read your research,” she had said, bowing deeply to me. “Being able to learn from you is the greatest honor of my life.” I snapped back to reality and handed a library card to a young mother standing at the desk. That faded canvas jacket was the reason I had let my guard down back then. I had looked up Vivian’s file. Her father was disabled, her mother had run away, and she had survived entirely on financial aid and scholarships. I bought her a complete set of professional art supplies. I mentored her personally, step-by-step. Everything I had learned over seven grueling years, I broke down and handed to her on a silver platter. She was a quick study. One night, we were working late. We were the only two left in the office. She suddenly stopped drawing and stared blankly at her monitor. “Cassie, if someone starts with absolutely nothing… is the only way to get ahead to steal it from someone else?” I looked up at her. Her eyes were red, but she quickly looked down and forced a laugh. “I’m just joking. It’s late. My brain is fried.” At the time, I thought she was just feeling insecure about her background. I felt incredibly sorry for her. Only later did I realize. That was the night she had made her choice. Six months later, at the weekly board meeting. Ethan sat at the head of the table, flipping through the quarterly reports. “Vivian’s style is highly marketable.” “The interactive design of this new picture book series has massive commercial potential. We’ll make this our primary launch next month.” I sat a few seats down on his left. I smiled and added, “The interactive structure of that book is actually the advanced layout technique I taught her last week.” Ethan didn’t even look up. He took a sip of his coffee and moved on to the next agenda item. Over the next six months, every single stroke of genius I taught Vivian became a masterpiece published under her name alone. And Ethan began mentioning her at home more and more. “Vivian proposed a curriculum overhaul today. Her pitch was incredibly sharp—most importantly, it’s exactly what the venture capitalists want to see.” “Vivian stayed in the office until two AM last night. That kind of drive… it really reminds me of how you used to be.” I was in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes for dinner. The knife froze in my hand. “Did you actually look at the core logic of her proposal?” I asked, turning around to face Ethan, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t it the exact same parent-child reading model I designed years ago?” Ethan frowned. “Cassie, this company employs a team, not a shrine built to worship you.” He walked over, looking down at me. “Vivian has a sharp business mind. Companies need fresh blood to survive. Just focus on being Mrs. Vance. Why are you trying to pick a fight with a junior employee? It’s beneath you.” He turned and walked away. On the cutting board, the bright red juice of the sliced tomatoes pooled like blood. At an industry dinner party a few months later, an investor who had had one too many drinks patted Ethan on the shoulder. “Mr. Vance, let’s be honest. The only reason CasStart’s curriculum is so successful is because of your wife, right? I read her early curriculum models. Absolutely brilliant.” Ethan swirled the red wine in his glass and smiled smoothly. “Oh, not at all. It’s a team effort. Cassie’s health hasn’t been great, so she stepped away from the business a long time ago.” On the drive home, he didn’t say a single word. He didn’t speak to me after we got home, either. He took a shower, locked himself in his study, and kept the lights on all night. The very next day, he had HR remove my photo and bio from the “Founding Team” section of the company website. The official excuse was a “website redesign to streamline information.” When someone on an industry forum posted: “The soul of CasStart is still the founder’s wife, Cassie,” Ethan had the PR department issue a formal statement that same afternoon: “The CasStart creative team is led entirely by our Chief Creative Officer, Ms. Vivian Ward. Mrs. Cassie Vance stepped down from all core operations two years ago.” I saw the press release while sitting on the living room rug, hand-painting a bedtime story for the four-month-old baby growing inside my womb. Yet, that very evening, two insulated luxury delivery boxes arrived at the house. They were filled with expensive organic prenatals, gourmet health foods, and designer maternity wear that Ethan had ordered his assistant to fly in. I turned my phone face down on the rug. I picked up my brush and continued painting the little elephant in the book. It was the first book I was making for my baby, titled “Waiting for You.” He’s just trying to protect me from public gossip, I told myself. Everything will be fine once the baby is born.

Vivian became a frequent guest at our house. Every time she visited, she brought home-baked low-sugar treats and prenatal vitamins. I even showed her my unpublished curriculum drafts. When she left, she would stand at the doorway, her eyes red, holding my hand. “Cassie, you are so good to me. I don’t think I can ever repay your kindness.” I patted her hand, smiling. That night, I was sitting on the sofa, sewing a baby blanket. My phone buzzed. A former colleague from CasStart had sent me a screenshot. It was from Vivian’s private Snapchat story. She had forgotten to block the newer employees. The photo didn’t show her face. It was a silhouette of Ethan sitting at his desk, reviewing documents under the warm office light. The caption was just three words: “My only sun.” I stared at those words on the screen. My hand shook, and the sewing needle pierced deep into my finger. Blood welled up instantly. I didn’t reach for a tissue. I just pressed my bleeding finger against my rounded, four-month-old belly. When I was seven months pregnant, in the dead of a freezing winter night, I woke up. A sharp, tearing pain suddenly ripped through my abdomen. It felt like a cold blade was being twisted inside me. Warm, thick liquid instantly soaked through my pajamas. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. I dialed his number. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” I gritted my teeth, sliding off the bed onto the cold hardwood floor. My blood dragged a long, horrifying smear across the wood. I called seventeen times. Every single call went straight to voicemail.

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My best friend had been desperately in love with a man for six whole years. She always told me he was her first love, the only one she could never let go of. During one of her many drunk crying fits, I wiped away her tears and said, “If you still love him, go get him back.” She pushed me away. “Chloe, you don’t understand.” I didn’t. Not until the night before my wedding. I was in a horrific car accident. I miscarried, and our baby was gone. The very next day, my best friend sent me a Snapchat: [Help me. He came back for me. I’m in so much pain.] Ignoring the tearing ache in my abdomen, I drove five hours through a blinding blizzard to her apartment. Standing under her building, I watched her sink into a man’s embrace. Serena’s familiar, choked voice echoed through the snowy air: “Ethan, I hate you! I was the one who dumped you six years ago. Why did you have to come back?!” At that exact moment, the blood in my veins turned colder than the snow around me. Because Ethan was the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Just hours ago, Ethan was standing by my hospital bed, gently wiping the tears from my eyes. “Chloe, let me go home and make you some chicken soup, okay?” He had kissed the corner of my mouth, promising he’d be right back. So, this had to be a mistake. It was just someone who looked like him from behind. I hid behind a frozen utility pole, my fingers trembling as I sent Ethan a text: [Babe, where are you?] A minute passed. No reply. He had never made me wait for a reply before. Under the dim streetlamp, Serena tried to push him away. “Get away from me!” The yellow light illuminated his profile—his sharp nose, and the faint scar right between his brows. The scar he got from fighting to protect me. It really was Ethan. I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. Ethan’s voice was freezing, completely unrecognizable. “Serena, stop flattering yourself.” “You want me to leave? Who was the one clinging to me and crying that she was scared just now? Six years have passed, and I’m still the first person you call when you’re in trouble. Is this all the dignity you have?” Serena looked up, her eyes incredibly red. “I’m flattering myself?” “Then why are you here? Ethan, why did you leave your fiancé, who just had a miscarriage, to run to me?!” She laughed bitterly, tears smearing her makeup. “Are you happy now seeing me like this? Do you feel vindicated? You think I’m finally getting my karma, don’t you?!” Ethan’s face tensed for a second. He didn’t answer. Serena wiped her face and turned to leave. Ethan grabbed her wrist. “Let go.” He didn’t. “Ethan, I said let go!” With a sudden pull, he dragged her back into his chest. She struggled, hitting his chest and kicking his shins, but he didn’t budge. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he muttered softly. Finally, she lost her strength. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking violently. “Do you think I wanted to call you?” “Ethan, when that stalker blocked my way tonight, you were the only one I could think of. You used to hate seeing me suffer even a little bit.” “Do you really think I’ve had a great life these past six years without you?” He looked down, resting his chin on top of her head. “Serena, if you hadn’t left back then… in my plans, we would have had a child by now.” “But why… why did it have to be now?” The world around me fell dead silent. The icy wind crawled down my collar, numbing my limbs. My phone screen stayed dark. Ethan’s reply never came.

I slumped against the pole, completely drained of strength. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a pair of rusty pliers. So, Serena’s unforgettable first love was Ethan. The mysterious ex she always brought up whenever she got wasted. She used to brag about how much he loved her. How he clumsily wrote her a love letter every single day, how he set off a city-wide firework display for her, and how he gave up an Ivy League offer just to stay with her. I once asked her, “Then why did you break up?” She had slumped over the bar counter, her eyes bloodshot. “Because I was sick of being poor. I took a five-million-dollar check from his snobbish mother and ran. He literally knelt in the pouring rain for two days, begging me to stay, but I didn’t care.” “Love doesn’t pay the bills. I’m just a selfish, terrible person.” When I first introduced them, they acted like they couldn’t stand each other. They barely even made eye contact. After that, they never attended the same parties. I never could have guessed they shared such a passionate, toxic past. I was seventeen when I met Ethan. My teenage years weren’t filled with high school crushes or worries about grades. They were defined by Harold, my abusive stepfather, slamming on my bedroom door every night. That night, Harold was drunk and trying to break my door down. I jumped out of the first-floor window and ran. I ended up in a shady diner, sitting in a corner booth, shivering with my knees pulled to my chest. “You shouldn’t be here.” I looked up. Ethan was standing there, looking down at my oversized hoodie and tear-stained face. I stared at the mature, handsome college guy and whispered, “Why shouldn’t I be? Why are you here then?” He slid into the booth and pushed a cup of warm water toward me. “I got dumped,” he said dryly. “She promised forever, then threw me away like trash.” We talked for hours. After that night, meeting at that diner every Wednesday became our unspoken rule. The night Harold finally broke my door lock, Ethan was the one who kicked the front door open. He threw his jacket over my shoulders and pinned Harold to the floor, punching him until his own knuckles were bloody. Everyone in my family told me to stay quiet. He was my stepfather, after all. My biological dad even threatened me, saying if I called the police, he would cut me off completely. But Ethan told me, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” He hired a lawyer for me and put Harold behind bars. He moved me into his apartment and made sure I could focus on my college exams. That was the first time in my life I realized someone could actually protect me. During my freshman year, I gathered my courage and asked him, “Ethan, could you try loving me?” He froze. After a long pause, he asked, “What if one day, you find someone more important to you?” I stood on my tip-toes and kissed him. “You are the most important.” We got together, and he treated me like a princess. Whatever I didn’t know, he taught me patiently. Whatever I hadn’t experienced, he took me to see. He used to say, “Chloe, you don’t have to feel insecure. What you don’t know, I’ll teach you slowly.” Knowing I had nightmares, he called me every night to read me to sleep. Knowing I loved donuts, he would drive across the city just to get my favorite glaze. I thought no one in the world could ever love me more. I thought we would be happy forever. But now… He was standing right there, leaving me behind while I was still recovering from a miscarriage. Holding my best friend in his arms. He had taught me so much. How to solve math problems, how to protect myself, how to never trust strangers easily. But he never taught me what to do when I found out his heart belonged to someone else.

My mind was a chaotic mess. Images of him making soup for me clashed with him holding Serena. His promise of “I’ll be right back” clashed with his sigh of “Why did it have to be now?” I clutched my phone. I wanted to give our six years one last chance. Just in case. What if he was just trying to get closure? What if he was still the Ethan who risked everything for me? I dialed his number. On the third ring, he answered. “Chloe? What’s wrong?” I opened my mouth, but my throat was so dry it burned. “Ethan. Where are you?” There was a second of silence on the other end. “A work emergency came up, and I had to leave in a rush. I had the housekeeper make some soup and send it to your room. Make sure you drink it, okay?” I stared at the man ten yards away. He held his phone to his ear, his back to me, his shoulders covered in white snow. “I can’t drink it without you here.” His voice softened. “Be good. I’ll be back as soon as I finish this. How is your body feeling? Does it still hurt?” “Chloe, once I’m done with this busy week, I’ll take you on a trip. Didn’t you always want to go to Miami? We can stay there for a few days. I’ll make it up to you.” While he said those sweet words, Serena looked up from his chest, her eyes red. He reached out and gently brushed the snow off her hair. “Ethan,” I called out. “Yeah?” “Where… where exactly is this business trip?” Serena pulled away from him, limping as she tried to walk. He immediately reached out to grab her, his voice turning anxious on the phone. “Chloe, I have to go, something urgent just came up. I’ll call you later, okay?” Before the screen went dark, I saw him grab Serena’s wrist again. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re sweet-talking her on the phone while holding onto me?” “How can you do both at the same time?” Exactly, Ethan. How can you tell me you love me on the phone, and then turn around to embrace her? Serena pushed him away and kept limping forward. He chased after her and swept her up into his arms. “Your ankle is hurt. I’m taking you to the hospital.” She gasped, then started struggling. “Ethan, put me down!” He didn’t speak, just carried her toward his SUV. “You’re holding me while wearing her ring! It’s a constant reminder that you’re marrying someone else!” “How do you expect me to accept your kindness like this?!” He stopped. He looked down at his hand. On the day he proposed, he had knelt on one knee, holding that ring with a trembling hand. “Chloe.” “I will only propose once in my life, and I will only love this one person.” Under the sunset at Lake Tahoe, his sincerity had completely melted me. I had said yes. When he slipped the ring onto my finger, his eyes were wet. “Once it’s on, you’re never allowed to take it off.” “No matter what happens, don’t take it off.” That was the first time I had ever seen him cry. And he had never taken his off either. Until now. He bent his head, bit the ring with his teeth, and pulled it off his finger. “Stop fighting me, okay?” he whispered to Serena. She went completely still, letting him place her into the passenger seat. I stood frozen, unable to take a single step. As the SUV slowly rolled out of the driveway, it passed right by me. I was only two yards away from him. If he had just turned his head. He would have seen his fiancé, who had just lost their baby, standing behind a frozen pole in the freezing snow, shivering violently as she watched him. He would have seen the tears on my face, my frozen hands, and my phone with the text message he never replied to. But he never looked. I looked down at my own hand. The ring was still there. The exact same platinum band. The exact same initials engraved inside. Ethan. Over these past six years, was I just a replacement? A shadow you used to fill the void she left behind? Did you ever actually love me?

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My husband, Ethan Carter, was a renowned pharmaceutical researcher. To support his career, I secretly signed up as an anonymous volunteer for his high-risk clinical trials, willingly enduring all sorts of agonizing side effects just to help his project succeed. After I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, the only thing that could save me was an experimental drug he had developed. I pinned all my hopes of survival on Ethan. But when my condition finally became critical, he vanished—along with my life-saving medicine. When I finally found him, I watched him give my cure to Chloe, his childhood sweetheart. I rushed forward to confront him, only to be met with his cold, contemptuous gaze. “Chloe volunteered for my clinical trials years ago just to help me! Now she has a terminal illness because of those side effects!” “Can’t you show a little compassion?!” Later, without the medicine, I died an agonizing death in a cold hospital bed. But when he finally discovered the truth, he completely lost his mind.

Before my consciousness faded, waves of excruciating pain surged through my body. I trembled violently, curling into a tight ball, trying in vain to ease the agony. But it was useless. The muffled shouts of doctors and nurses echoed in my ears, but I no longer had the strength to open my eyes. “Her organs are failing,” someone sighed nearby. “Without the A9 experimental drug, not even a miracle can save her.” “Let’s contact her next of kin to prepare for her funeral…” The A9 experimental drug. Hearing that familiar name only brought a sharp, tearing pain to my chest. I had been so close to surviving. But Ethan, my husband, had shattered that chance with his own hands. The A9 drug was the latest breakthrough from Ethan’s research lab. Because it was still in the early stages, the production was extremely limited. The only existing dose was in Ethan’s possession. Two weeks ago, I finally tracked down Ethan, who had vanished with the drug. I found him at Chloe’s private studio. I watched them huddled together. Chloe was sobbing softly while Ethan whispered sweet comforts to her. Then, he pulled out the vial containing the A9 drug and placed it in her hand. A spasm of pain shot through my body. I burst into the room to confront him. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Ethan, I told you! I will die without this medicine!” “You refused to give it to me, saying it was reserved for someone who truly needed it. Is she that person?!” Ethan looked at me, his eyes showing no guilt or hesitation. He met my gaze coldly. “Nora, stop faking your illness. It’s getting pathetic.” “I’m a medical researcher. You can’t fool me with these cheap tricks.” “Chloe isn’t like you, always jealous and insecure. Five years ago, she risked her life as a volunteer for my drug trials, which pushed my project forward. Now, the side effects are causing her organs to fail. How can I just stand by and do nothing?” I stared at Ethan in absolute disbelief, pointing at Chloe, who was shrinking back into his chest. “You think *she* was the volunteer five years ago?” Ethan didn’t answer. He just tightened his grip around Chloe’s waist. My throat tasted metallic, like blood. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my chest. “Ethan, go look at the registry files from five years ago. I dare you! I don’t believe you can’t find the truth.” “If it weren’t for you, why would I have spent the last five years screaming in pain every single night because of the side effects?!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth and coughed violently. Ethan only frowned, his eyes filling with deep annoyance. “Nora Mitchell, I thought you’d know when to stop.” “Without Chloe’s help, I wouldn’t have the status I have today. Do you think the money you’ve been spending all these years grew on trees?” “I’m going to put an end to your lies once and for all today.” Ethan sighed, throwing a folder onto my chest. “See for yourself. I pulled the original records from back then.” “I know exactly who saved my career.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Chloe and walked out of the studio. Before they turned the corner, I heard him whisper to her, “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll save you. I wouldn’t be here today without you.” Out of Ethan’s sight, Chloe turned back and flashed me a smug, triumphant smile. With trembling, blood-stained hands, I opened the folder. The volunteer report—the one that used to have my face on it—now had Chloe’s photo attached. After that day, Ethan subjected me to endless, freezing silent treatment. He didn’t even pick up my last call before I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was standing right in front of my own body. I watched my lifeless corpse being wheeled toward the morgue. The doctors quickly dialed Ethan’s number. After several rings, Ethan finally answered, his voice dripping with irritation. “Stop annoying me! I don’t have time for this!” The nurse said quickly, “Sir, your wife has passed away. We need you to come handle her body…” Through the line, I heard a fragile, sweet voice call out in the background. “Ethan, my chest hurts.” Ethan replied softly, “Hang on, Chloe.” Then his tone turned incredibly hostile. “Nora, are you seriously acting out a death scene now? You even hired someone to play a nurse?” “Don’t try to stop me from treating Chloe. If you want to play dead, go ahead. Let’s see if I shed a single tear for you!” With that, he slammed the phone down. As I stood there in a daze, a strange force suddenly pulled my soul away. When I regained consciousness, I was standing right in front of Ethan. I blinked, looking around, and realized this was Ethan’s private laboratory. It was equipped with the most advanced medical tech and medicines in the country. I had begged him to let me stay here because the equipment could help manage my symptoms. But Ethan had dismissed my plea with disgust. “The lab is off-limits to outsiders.” Without proper medical equipment, I spent the last two weeks of my life in endless, agonizing torture. By the time I died, my body was painfully emaciated, my cheeks sunken, looking like a hollow shell of myself. And my own husband wouldn’t even come to claim my body. Yet here, Chloe was lying comfortably on a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by a team of professional nurses. She looked pale and fragile, like a delicate hothouse flower. Chloe was never an “outsider” to Ethan. Chloe looked up at Ethan, her eyes crinkling with a sweet smile. “Thank you, Ethan. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it today…” Ethan shook his head, gently stroking her hair. “Just focus on resting. The staff here are my most trusted colleagues. You’ll get better in no time.” Sensing the heavy romantic tension between the two, the colleagues laughed and teased them. “Dr. Carter, you and your wife are so sweet together.” “Seriously, you’re making all us single folks jealous!” Chloe’s cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t correct them. Neither did Ethan. They just looked at each other and shared a knowing smile. I instinctively wanted to run away, but an invisible force bound me to Ethan’s side. I was forced to watch my husband of five years play the doting spouse to his childhood friend. When my organ failure was at its worst, I could feel my body shutting down piece by piece. But that terror was nothing compared to the agony of watching this. How pathetic. I had endured years of agonizing side effects for Ethan, only for Chloe to effortlessly steal all the credit. And my husband never believed a single word I said. I suppose when I first told him I was sick, he didn’t take me seriously at all. Otherwise, how could he have been so calm? Compared to his current panic over Chloe, Ethan had always been chillingly indifferent to anything concerning me. I thought five years of love and quiet sacrifice would eventually melt his cold heart. But the truth was, Ethan’s heart only beat for the girl he truly loved. Ethan cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual professional tone. “Alright, everyone get back to work. I’ll take it from here.” The colleagues let out a chorus of knowing chuckles before leaving the room. Ethan sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed. “How are you feeling today? Any discomfort after taking the medicine?” Chloe shook her head, playfully sticking her tongue out. “Any drug developed by the brilliant Dr. Carter is bound to be perfect.” Ethan chuckled softly. Chloe seemed to remember something and said, “By the way… we haven’t heard from Nora since she confronted us last time. Have you explained things to her? We’re just doctor and patient.” Ethan’s face darkened, but he kept his voice patient. “There’s nothing to explain.” “It’s her own issue. Don’t worry about her. Just focus on recovering.” Of course. In his mind, there was never anything to explain. I was always just the crazy, jealous wife throwing a tantrum. Ethan reached into his bag. From my vantage point, I saw him pull out a second, identical phone. But this phone had been dead for a while. He plugged in the charger, and after a few minutes, the screen lit up. Instantly, a flood of missed calls and Snapchat notifications popped up. They were all from me—calls I had made and messages I had sent since I was hospitalized. There were also missed calls from the hospital notifying him of my death. Ethan had two identical phones. One was just to deal with me, while the other was his actual phone for daily life. His main phone had his research, Chloe’s contact info, and his real life. Compared to his main phone, the one dedicated to me was practically barren. I was just like that second phone—never truly integrated into Ethan’s life. I was always kept at a distance. And whenever Ethan wanted a break, he could simply turn it off, shutting me out of his world entirely. Because to him, I was utterly insignificant.

Maybe when your heart breaks completely, you just go numb. Staring at Ethan’s second phone, I didn’t even feel a spark of anger. The phone rang again. This time, it wasn’t my number. Ethan stared at the screen for a moment before pressing answer. “Is this Nora Mitchell’s next of kin? The patient passed away yesterday, and her body is still in the morgue. When can you come claim her?” Ethan frowned, checking the number again. “Are you guys ever going to stop? How much did Nora pay you to pull this stunt? I’ll pay you double if you just stop harassing me!” “She was calling and texting me yesterday, and today you’re telling me she’s dead?” “Until she learns how to behave, I don’t care if she’s dead or alive!” Yes, he never cared about anything to do with me. Even when I was actually dead. But that was fine. I was used to it anyway, wasn’t I? By the time he finished speaking, Ethan’s voice was shaking with anger. He slammed the phone down, his face flushed with rage. Chloe asked softly, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Nora?” Ethan shook his head. “Nothing. Just another one of her dramatic stunts.” “Get some rest. I’m going to check on the lab.” Chloe nodded obediently and watched him leave. When Ethan pushed open the lab door, he found a group of researchers huddled together. He frowned, his voice cold and sharp. “What is everyone doing? Is this free time? Are your tasks finished?” The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving a single piece of paper fluttering to the floor. When no one spoke, Ethan sneered, “Don’t you know we’re at a critical phase of launching the A9 drug?” “Chloe risked her life to test this drug for us, giving us the chance to deepen our research. And this is how you make use of it?” He knelt down and picked up the paper, grabbing a young researcher who was trying to slip away. “What is this?” The young man, terrified of Ethan, lowered his head. “It’s… it’s a case file related to the A9 drug…” “This disease is so rare, so we were just studying it…” Ethan frowned, looking at him suspiciously. “I haven’t heard of any similar cases recently.” The researcher pointed at the paper. “It was sent over by the local hospital.” “Apparently, the patient spent her final days desperately searching for a cure, but she couldn’t find one.” “She passed away yesterday…” Ethan looked down at the paper. When his eyes landed on the name in the patient box, he froze. Nora Mitchell. My name. Ethan’s grip on the researcher’s arm tightened violently, but his eyes kept scanning down. When he read the words *Cause of Death: Multi-organ failure*, his pupils dilated in shock. “Did the hospital mention the exact time of death?” The researcher shook his head. Looking at his pale face, I felt nothing but cold amusement. What? Was he finally starting to believe it? It seemed he only believed me when I was presented to him in the most brutal, tragic way possible. Just like before, when I hadn’t heard from Ethan all night. Even his lab colleagues didn’t know where he was. I had driven through a torrential downpour, checking every place he could possibly be. The rain was so heavy I lost control of the car and crashed into a street lamp. And yet, just that morning, he had promised he would come home to celebrate my birthday. At dawn, I dragged my bruised, bleeding body back home, only to see Ethan lovingly placing a fresh plate of breakfast in front of Chloe. In that moment, my mind went entirely blank. Seeing my wretched state, Ethan had only frowned in disgust. “What happened to you?” I stared at him blankly. “Where were you last night…?” Chloe looked at me with faux guilt. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just got back to the country last night and asked Ethan to pick me up. He didn’t mean to ignore you.” Ignoring Chloe’s chatter, I walked up to Ethan. “Yesterday was my birthday.” Ethan stiffened, pressing his lips together. “Sorry. I forgot.” He forgot. Ethan didn’t even bother making up a decent excuse. He just dismissed my entire existence with a simple “I forgot.” That day, we had another massive fight. “Ethan, I searched for you all night! I even got into a car accident! And what were you doing?!” Ethan lost his patience. “Enough! I just forgot!” “A car accident? If you were in a car accident, why are you standing right here? Why aren’t you in a hospital bed?” In the middle of our shouting, Ethan shoved me hard. I fell to the ground while he immediately shielded a trembling Chloe behind his back. I felt like some villainous woman in a cheap drama. My wounds from the crash reopened, bleeding through my clothes, and my chest felt like it was tearing apart. I coughed up a pool of blood. Through the haze of pain, I finally heard Ethan scream my name in panic. Only then did he believe I was actually hurt. Ethan’s trust in me had always been pathetic. I watched Ethan run out of the research center and speed toward the hospital. Once there, he clutched the case file, desperately asking every nurse and doctor until he finally found the physician who had filed the report. It was Dr. Harrison, the doctor who had treated me. Dr. Harrison looked up in surprise. “Dr. Carter? What brings you here?” Ethan slammed the paper onto the desk, panting heavily. “Did you submit this case file?” The doctor glanced at it and nodded. “Yes. The patient’s body is still down in the morgue.” “Did you find something new, Dr. Carter?” Ethan’s hands shook violently as he gritted his teeth. “Take me to her.” Though confused, Dr. Harrison led the way. I followed close behind Ethan as the elevator descended into the cold basement. Dr. Harrison led him to the metal freezer drawers. The doctor pointed to a drawer. “She’s in here. Do you want to see her, Dr. Carter?” Ethan ignored him, his hand already gripping the cold metal handle. As the drawer slowly slid open, the color drained completely from Ethan’s face. Until he finally saw me. My face. Gray, cold, and entirely lifeless.

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