Category: English

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

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

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

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

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

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

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“This place was designed by a big name, you know. Fully integrated smart home. I spent fifty grand on the renovation alone.” Brenda, my landlady, stood beside the Italian leather sofa I’d paid four thousand dollars for, spitting as she spoke. Across from her, a well-dressed young couple surveyed my living room, their eyes wide with admiration. “Brenda, this style is just fantastic,” the young woman gushed, running her hand lovingly over the quartz countertop of my kitchen island—a piece I’d had shipped from Italy. “The open-plan kitchen, this island… it’s exactly our aesthetic!” I sat in the corner on my ergonomic chair, watching the scene unfold with cold detachment. Brenda shot me a contemptuous glance. “Well, Leo, you heard them. I’ve sold the apartment.” “You have three days to pack your things and get out.” “As for the penalty for breaking the lease,” she added with a magnanimous sneer, “I’ll be generous and waive half a month’s rent.” I looked around the room, at the walls, the floors, the fixtures—every inch a product of my own sweat and money. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. You want to use my hard work as a bargaining chip to inflate your price? Fine. Just be ready for the consequences. 1 “Brenda, I’m trying to work,” I said, closing my laptop and standing up. “Bringing strangers into my apartment without permission? That’s trespassing, isn’t it?” She rolled her eyes, her fleshy cheeks jiggling. “Your apartment? The deed is in my name, buddy!” She turned back to the couple, her face instantly transforming into a sycophantic grin. “Don’t mind him. He’s just some broke nine-to-fiver who’s been renting for two years. Thinks he owns the place.” The man adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, giving me a look of pure disgust. “Brenda, we’re very serious about this offer. But it’s contingent on the apartment coming with all the renovations and appliances. And we need it vacant as soon as possible.” “Exactly,” his wife chimed in. “The design is what I fell in love with. We can’t afford to wait for a whole new renovation.” Brenda slapped her thigh, her smile wrinkling her face like a dried flower. “Don’t you worry! Not a problem!” “It’s all in the contract! The price includes all permanent fixtures and existing appliances!” “All he has is a few raggedy clothes and shoes. I guarantee you, in three days, he and his junk will be gone!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Includes all renovations and appliances?” I pointed to the minimalist linear chandelier hanging above us. “I bought that light. Three hundred and fifty dollars.” I gestured to the polished microcement floor beneath our feet. “I had this floor poured. Sixty bucks a square foot.” Finally, I pointed to the kitchen island they were so enamored with. “That was custom-made. Twenty-eight hundred dollars.” “Brenda,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You’re selling my property to make a profit. Did you ever think to ask me?” The couple froze, their eyes darting to Brenda. Her face went stiff, then flushed with rage. “Leo! Have you no shame?” she shrieked. “It’s installed in my house, so it’s mine! I should be thanking my lucky stars I’m not charging you for drilling holes in my walls, and you have the nerve to ask me for money?” “You were the one crying and begging me to let you change things! Did I force you?” “Trying to blackmail me now? Not a chance!” The male buyer frowned, clearly not wanting to get involved. “Brenda, about the ownership of these items…” “Oh, Mr. Sterling, don’t listen to his nonsense!” Brenda stamped her foot, shooting me a venomous look. “He’s just a lowlife trying to scam some money before he leaves!” “Rest assured, every last nail in this apartment belongs to me!” She planted her hands on her hips, her voice rising an octave. “So I’ll ask you one more time: are you moving out or not?” “If you don’t, I swear I’ll have my son and his friends come throw you out on the street tomorrow!” Seeing that smug, triumphant look on her face, I nodded slowly and pulled out my phone. “Fine.” “Since you’ve already sold it, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your business.” Brenda snorted, victorious. “Glad you see it my way.” “However,” I said, my tone shifting, “my lease isn’t up for another two years. Considering the rent increases in this area, plus my investment in the renovations…” “Don’t give me that crap!” Brenda cut me off. “The contract? It says right there the landlord has the right to reclaim the property!” “As for compensation, I already told you. Half a month’s rent. That’s seven hundred and fifty dollars. Take the money and get lost!” “This place is worth three hundred grand on the market right now, and I’m not taking a penny less. If you screw up this sale, you couldn’t afford to pay me back if I sold you into slavery!” The couple, seeing that I had “relented,” relaxed into smiles. The woman even started gesturing around the living room. “Honey, that painting is a bit tacky. We can replace it with a giclée print.” “And this rug, the color is too dark. An off-white one would be much better.” They were already planning their new life in my home. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to smash my phone across their smug faces. “Okay,” I said, looking directly at Brenda, my voice eerily calm. “Three days, you said? I’ll be out.” 2 After escorting the three plagues out, I surveyed the room. Two years ago, this place was infamous in the building as the “haunted house.” The previous tenant was a hoarder. The apartment was filled with trash, the walls were peeling with mold, and the wiring was a fire hazard. Brenda had been desperate, practically begging people to rent it. No one would touch it. I saw potential in the layout and high ceilings and signed a five-year lease. To secure the low rent and permission to renovate, I had a specific clause added to the contract: “Tenant has the right to conduct renovations and alterations to the premises at his own expense. Landlord shall not interfere.” But I never imagined human greed could sink to this level. I spent three solid months gutting the place—stripping the walls, rewiring the electrical, redoing the plumbing, waterproofing, and installing custom furniture. I transformed it from a literal dump into a minimalist studio that won a design award. All in, with materials and labor, I had invested over thirty thousand dollars. And now, that thirty grand had become, in Brenda’s words, the “exquisite renovation included with the apartment.” It was the capital she was using to sell the place for a fifty-thousand-dollar premium. And my reward? A “charitable” handout of seven hundred and fifty dollars. My phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Brenda. I pressed play, and her shrill voice blasted from the speaker. “Leo, I’m warning you! When you leave, you better make sure this place is spotless! If you dare to damage anything, even a single light switch, I’ll call the cops and have you arrested!” “Oh, and send me the code for the smart lock. The buyers are bringing their designer tomorrow to take measurements.” I let out a cold laugh and texted back two words: “No chance.” She replied instantly. “What’s that attitude? You think I won’t shut off your water and power right now? You’re not from around here, kid. You have no idea who you’re messing with! Just ask anyone in this building about Brenda!” You mean the infamous neighborhood shrew that everyone despises? I thought. I ignored her. I pulled out the renovation contracts from my desk drawer, along with every single receipt for building materials. They were all there. I had even saved the receipts for the drywall anchors. Then, I pulled out the lease agreement. My eyes fell on the addendum: “In the event of early termination by the Landlord, the Landlord must either compensate the Tenant for all renovation losses or permit the Tenant to remove and take all self-installed fixtures and improvements.” When we signed it, Brenda hadn’t even bothered to read it. She was too busy counting her money, laughing at me. “Remove them? What are you going to do, peel the paint off the walls and take it with you? Idiot.” Yeah. I was an idiot. I was an idiot for treating this place like a home. But even idiots have a breaking point. I picked up my phone and made a call. “Hey, Rocco? It’s Leo.” “Yeah, about that demolition job we talked about a while back.” “No, not a partial reno.” I looked around at the exquisite space I had created, a glint of steel in my eyes. “A full demolition.” “I want this place to look exactly like it did two years ago.” “No, actually. I want it to be cleaner than that.” 3 The next morning, I started packing my personal belongings. My computer, books, clothes—the easy stuff. The “big items” were the real challenge. Brenda showed up before 8 a.m., acting like a prison warden. She brought a folding stool and sat by the door, watching my every move, terrified I might take a single thread that “belonged” to her. “Hey, hey, hey! You can’t take that projector!” she shrieked, jumping up as I started to uninstall the ceiling-mounted projector. “That’s an appliance! I saw the listing! It was sold to Mr. Sterling!” I stood on the ladder, looking down at her. “The receipt is in my name. The warranty card is in my hand. You sold it to Mr. Sterling? Did you get permission from Epson?” Brenda’s face quivered with rage. “That’s bullshit! If it’s attached to the wall, it belongs to the apartment!” “If you dare take it, I’m keeping your security deposit!” “My deposit?” I laughed. “That fifteen hundred dollars? Keep it. Maybe it’ll be enough to buy you a nice coffin.” Then, right in front of her, I snipped the connecting wires and packed the projector into its padded case. Brenda screamed and lunged at me, trying to snatch it. “Thief! The tenant is robbing the landlord!” Her grating voice instantly attracted the attention of our neighbors, who poked their heads out into the hallway. Seeing she had an audience, Brenda immediately switched into drama-queen mode. She plopped down on the floor and started wailing, slapping her thighs. “Everyone, come and judge for yourselves! This outsider is bullying a poor old woman like me! He lived in my house, and now he’s trying to gut it bare! There’s no justice in this world!” The neighbors whispered amongst themselves, but most of their glances were filled with scorn. Everyone knew what Brenda was like. Mr. Henderson from across the hall shook his head and muttered, “Leo’s a good kid. He turned this dump into a palace. Looks like the old bat is up to her tricks again.” I ignored her performance. I walked straight to the entryway and uninstalled the three-hundred-dollar smart lock, revealing the dark, empty hole in the door. Then, I replaced it with the rusty, old-fashioned padlock I had saved from two years ago. “You! What are you doing?!” Brenda stopped her wailing and shot up from the floor. “You took the lock off! How are they supposed to view the apartment now?” “Here’s your key.” I tossed a single, rust-covered key at her feet. “This was the original lock. I’m returning it to you.” “As for the smart lock, sorry. I’m not a charity.” Brenda snatched the key, her whole body trembling with fury. “Fine! Just you wait, Leo!” “You take one lock today, and I’ll make you pay me back tenfold tomorrow!” She pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures of me furiously. “I’ve got it all on camera! This is evidence! Let’s see what you do when Mr. Sterling gets here!” Speak of the devil. Mr. Sterling, his wife, and a designer came up the stairs, all beaming with excitement. They stepped inside and stopped short, staring at the bare entryway. “The… where’s the lock?” Brenda immediately adopted a victimized expression, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Mr. Sterling! You’re just in time! This scoundrel took the lock off! And he’s trying to steal the projector!” “You have to stop him!” Mr. Sterling’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “Young man, have some decency. We bought this apartment with the renovations included. By removing things, you’re damaging our property.” The designer chimed in, “Yes, the smart lock was integral to the overall aesthetic. Without it, the whole entryway is ruined.” I stared at this pack of self-righteous thieves, a sense of absurdity washing over me. “Your property?” I pulled the projector’s remote from a box and tossed it in my hand. “When you signed the contract, did you ever bother to ask who actually owned these things?” “You gave your money to the landlord, but you expect to take things from me for free?” “You want to keep them? Fine.” I pulled up a payment app on my phone. “Projector and screen, I’ll let them go for five hundred, considering depreciation. The smart lock, two hundred.” “Pay up, and they’re yours. Don’t pay, and shut up.” The woman shrieked, “Why should we?! We paid over three hundred thousand dollars for this apartment! Why should we have to give you more money?!” Mr. Sterling’s face darkened. “Brenda, is this what you meant by ‘turnkey’? If you can’t handle this tenant, we’re backing out of the deal!” The threat of losing the sale sent Brenda into a full-blown panic. She lunged at me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. “Leo! You’re really trying to ruin this for me, aren’t you?!” she screamed. “I’m telling you, you are leaving these things here today! Or you’re not walking out of this door!” I looked down at her pudgy hand clenched on my collar. The warmth in my eyes turned to ice. “Let go.” “I won’t! What are you gonna do about it? You gonna hit an old woman?” She tightened her grip, her other hand coming up to scratch at my face. I shoved her away. It wasn’t a hard push, but it was enough to send her stumbling back a few steps. “I’ll say this one last time,” I said, my voice low and steady. “These are my things.” “I will hand over the keys at 5 p.m. tomorrow.” “Until then, this is still my home.” “Now, I suggest all of you get out.” “Otherwise, I’m calling the police and reporting you for trespassing and harassment.” Maybe it was the cold fury in my eyes. Or maybe the word “police” finally got through to them. Brenda, muttering a stream of curses, retreated to the doorway with the buyers. Before leaving, she spat on the floor. “Fine! 5 p.m. tomorrow!” she snarled. “We’ll see what kind of magic tricks you can pull by then! If a single hair is out of place, I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth!” The door slammed shut. I took out my phone and called Rocco. “Rocco, change of plans.” “We’re not waiting until tomorrow.” “We’re doing it tonight.” “All night.” “I’ll pay extra.” 4 8 p.m. The senior citizens of the complex were in the square for their evening dance routines. A plain, unmarked panel van pulled up to the building. Rocco and five burly men, armed with heavy-duty tools, filed into my apartment. “Dude, you really want us to tear everything out?” Rocco asked, looking around at the beautifully finished space. He seemed hesitant to start. “These cabinets are solid wood. The finish on them is perfect.” I handed him a cigarette. “Tear it out.” “Just be careful not to damage the load-bearing walls.” “Everything else… what you can take, take. What you can’t…” I exhaled a puff of smoke. “Smash it.” “You got it,” Rocco said with a grin. He waved his hand. The symphony of destruction began—the whine of power drills, the crash of hammers, the splintering of wood filled the night. The first victim was the open-plan kitchen the buyers had adored. The expensive quartz countertop was pried up in one piece and packed away. The custom cabinets were dismantled one by one, revealing the original mold-stained walls behind them. The built-in dishwasher and oven were unplugged and removed. In less than an hour, the warm, inviting kitchen was transformed into a warzone of exposed pipes and empty holes. Next was the living room. The feature wall behind the TV, clad in elegant wood paneling that had cost me over a thousand dollars, was attacked with crowbars. With a sickening crack, the panels were ripped from the wall, exposing the wooden frame underneath. “The frame, too?” a worker asked. “Everything,” I said coldly. “Pull out every last nail.” I had argued with Brenda for three days just to get her permission to build that wall. Now, I was erasing it from existence. The microcement floor was the toughest part. Rocco brought in a professional industrial floor grinder. Amidst clouds of dust, the smooth, sophisticated layer of microcement was ground away, millimeter by millimeter. Beneath it lay the original concrete floor, pitted and scarred like the surface of the moon, with several alarming cracks running through it. The bathroom. The thermostatic shower system, worth over two hundred dollars. Gone. The smart toilet, four hundred. Gone. The custom-made fluted glass shower enclosure. Gone. Even the huge, anti-fog vanity mirror was carefully removed, leaving nothing but a few dark pipe openings weeping water onto the floor. Every light fixture was taken down. I replaced them with one-dollar incandescent bulbs I’d bought from the hardware store. We worked until 4 a.m. The entire apartment was unrecognizable. No, it was “renewed.” It had finally returned to its true self: an old, broken-down shithole. It was even worse than when I first moved in. At least then, there had been a layer of yellowed plaster on the walls. Now, even that was gone, scraped away to install soundproofing, revealing the raw red brick and concrete beneath. As I watched the construction debris being hauled away in bag after bag, as I stood in the empty, cavernous, and slightly sinister room, I felt no regret. Only a twisted, satisfying pleasure. They are my things. I can give them away, but you cannot take them from me. If you try to take them, I will destroy them first. Rocco wiped the sweat from his brow and gave me a thumbs-up. “Man, when your landlady sees this, she’s gonna have a stroke.” I smiled and transferred his payment. “Thanks for the hard work, guys.” “Did you get all the trash out?” “Don’t worry. Spotless. Not a scrap left.” I nodded. “Good.” I took out my phone and snapped a panoramic photo. The picture showed nothing but exposed brick, rough concrete floors, a single dangling lightbulb, and a lonely, rust-stained drainpipe in the corner. I posted it to my social media with a caption: “The landlord wanted to sell the place fully furnished for a premium. I obliged.” “Factory settings. As is.” I made the post invisible to Brenda. A surprise is best saved for the last moment. 5 4:55 p.m. I sat on my single suitcase, the rusty key clutched in my hand. The apartment was empty. So empty that my own breathing echoed.

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In the fifth year of marriage, I asked Ethan Stone for a divorce. The reason was that I found potato chip crumbs on his passenger seat. And he never let me eat in his car. He was dismissive: “Just for this little thing?” This time I didn’t lower my head like before. I just looked at him and said seriously: “Yes, just for this little thing.” 1 When I went to wash the car, the staff frowned and asked me: “Ma’am, there are snack crumbs in your car. I think we should do a deep interior cleaning?” I was stunned and subconsciously retorted: “Impossible.” Ethan couldn’t stand anyone eating in his car the most. He had fallen out with me several times because of this. How could there be snack crumbs in his car? The staff gestured for me to look. I leaned into the car and actually saw yellow potato chip crumbs on the passenger seat. Still with seasoning powder, scattered in the corner. … When driving the car home, I sat in the underground garage for a long time. Finally, I opened the dashcam. After rummaging for a while, I quickly found the segment from when he got off work yesterday afternoon. After a moment of silence, the sound of the door closing rang out, and a familiar female voice laughed: “Quite on time today!” That voice was very pleasant, with the unique delicate softness of a young girl. However, my heart turned cold at this moment. Ethan said briskly: “Why did you come out so early? Didn’t your supervisor scold you?” Sophia Lin laughed: “They all know my relationship with you, who dares to stop me?” If a mature woman like me said this, it would only make people feel snobbish and pretentious. But if a young girl who just graduated said it, it makes people feel boldly cute. Sure enough, Ethan chuckled and said nothing more. I suddenly remembered when we first got married, at that time I was still working in his company. Once I met him on the road and wanted to say hello, but he walked past me as if seeing nothing, as if he didn’t see me at all. When I mentioned this at home, he just frowned and said: “I don’t want people in the company to know our relationship. What would they say about me, arranging my own wife in for personal gain?!” After that, his parents also hoped I could take care of his daily life at home, so I simply resigned and became a housewife. But it turns out, he doesn’t mind his relationship with others. He just minds his relationship with me. The sound of puffed food packaging tearing pulled me back to reality. Sophia chewed potato chips “crunch crunch”. Ethan said nothing. “Oops,” Sophia said: “I dropped potato chip crumbs on the car, sorry.” “It’s okay.” Ethan was calm: “Just wash it when we get back.” Paused a bit, he continued: “Don’t eat so many snacks, I’ll take you to eat something good later.” There was nothing more after that. In the dim garage, I sat in the car silently for a long time. I wanted to control myself not to think about those things before, but my mind couldn’t help but recall two years ago, when I rushed to work without breakfast and brought two buns into Ethan’s car. He roared at me to get off: “Get out, don’t eat in my car!” I explained anxiously: “I won’t drop it in the car, this is mushroom filling, no smell.” But he just looked at me with disgust, stepped on the gas and drove away. Leaving me alone holding the buns, standing stunned in the garage. 2 It was raining that day and hard to get a taxi. My high heel broke when I ran out anxiously. I was in a sorry state when I arrived at work and was scolded badly by the supervisor. I had low blood sugar and didn’t eat breakfast. My vision went black when standing and I almost fainted. It was a colleague who stuffed me a pack of biscuits that I survived. But now, he allows someone to eat in his car. It turns out his principles are not unbreakable, just haven’t met that special person yet. I closed my eyes for a long time and took out the divorce agreement from my bag. This agreement had been printed out for half a year, but I never had a chance to take it out. To put it bluntly, I was reluctant myself. I have liked him for so long, this person occupied my entire youth. From the first day I liked him, I was waiting, waiting for him to see me. Then I waited until he fell in love with the school beauty. He was with the school beauty. His mother didn’t agree with him marrying the school beauty, they broke up. He was desperate, under family pressure, he chose to be with me indiscriminately. But after waiting for so many years, I didn’t wait for him to fall in love with me. Actually, the moment I saw Sophia, my sixth sense as a woman sounded the alarm. She was too much like Ethan’s first love. Both have bright looks, passionate personalities, spicy and cute. I noticed his eyes stayed on her for a few seconds, then passed her resume. Even though her education didn’t match the company’s recruitment requirements. What made me feel wrong at first was once Sophia called. Actually, it was all business, but it is unreasonable for an intern to call the president directly. We were eating at that time, Ethan suddenly put down his chopsticks, almost scrambling to answer the phone. His voice was tight, as if a bit nervous: “Don’t be afraid, I’ll call Minister Li later, he won’t blame you.” After hanging up, he was stunned for a while, and the corners of his mouth uncontrollably rose slowly. That night, he was in a good mood and even sang a song when he went to take a shower, which was unprecedented. And I felt like falling into an ice cave. Initially, Ethan probably didn’t want to cross the line. He didn’t communicate much with Sophia, and occasional calls were all business. Just that liking someone can’t be hidden, it will run out of the eyes even if the mouth is covered. He started coming home later and later, holding his phone typing all night, like a hairy boy falling in love for the first time. No matter how I cried or made a scene, he just blocked me back with one sentence: “If you can’t go on, you can divorce.” Then I died down. Actually thinking about it, what defeated me was not him, but my love. But now, I don’t want to love him anymore. Divorcing for a little potato chip crumb sounds ridiculous. But, this is the last straw that broke the camel’s back. 3 When I handed the divorce agreement to Ethan, he was typing, took it impatiently and threw it aside. “What is it, you want to buy a house again? “How many times have I said house prices now—” I interrupted him: “It’s a divorce agreement, you’d better take a look. “There are some property divisions inside that I still want to discuss with you.” Ethan was stunned, then he took the document and flipped through it casually, sneering: “Mia Jiang, when did you learn this crying, making a scene, and threatening suicide routine? “I support you, provide you with food and clothing, isn’t that enough, still have to accompany you to act in idol dramas?” I looked at him and said: “If you don’t have Alzheimer’s, you should remember that I had a job originally. It was you and your parents who insisted on me resigning to take care of you at home. “Now live-in nannies in Hangzhou start at 8000 a month, completely enough for me to support myself, so you didn’t provide me with food and drink, instead I am taking care of you, don’t think too highly of yourself.” Ethan looked up at me in surprise, seemingly unexpected that I would talk to him like this. Immediately after, he threw the divorce agreement aside with some anger from embarrassment: “What madness are you suddenly having?!” I said calmly: “I saw the potato chip crumbs on the passenger seat.” Ethan frowned tightly: “Just for this little thing?!” I nodded. “Yes, just for this little thing. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree, I will sue. It’s just that if this kind of thing gets big, it won’t look good on you either.” Ethan stared at me deadly. After a long time, he snatched the agreement, took out a pen, signed his name on it and threw it back to me, sneering: “Are you satisfied now?! “Mia, I tell you, don’t come crying and begging me like before.” He said contemptuously: “Like a dog.” My heart instantly felt a tightening pain. I had mentioned divorce when I was angriest before, only I was always the one who admitted defeat in the end, swallowing my pride to beg him for reconciliation. He knows my weakness best. And knows best how to hurt me. Only now I won’t. I picked up my coat: “Let’s go, get the certificate by the way.” Ethan didn’t mock me again this time. His expression gradually became serious, stood up and looked at me steadily: “Mia, are you serious? “You know the house you live in, the car you drive, your quality of life and conditions are all because of me. “You have to think clearly, without me, you are nothing.” I glanced at him: “Don’t dawdle, the Civil Affairs Bureau closes at five, won’t make it if later.” “Fine!” Ethan frowned: “Mia, don’t regret it.” 4 Getting a divorce certificate is much more troublesome than a marriage certificate. There is also a one-month cooling-off period. After going out, Ethan didn’t even look at me, drove away directly, leaving me alone at the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau. I took a taxi back to pack things. Under his livid face, I only took a few clothes and left. Most of the things I added these years were his. Now I found that my own things were only a small part, a 28-inch suitcase could pack them all away. Didn’t have time to rent a house, I stayed in a hotel first. When lying in bed, I realized belatedly that leaving Ethan was actually not that difficult. Before I never dared to imagine what it would be like leaving him. I thought I would die of sadness. But now, it’s not as uncomfortable as imagined. On the contrary, there is a feeling of relief, as if a big stone pressing on the body was completely moved away. Maybe, I didn’t love him as much as I thought long ago. I just got used to loving him, unaware that in this messy marriage, my love had already been consumed bit by bit.

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While delivering documents to my boss’s house, I ended up getting locked down there. What’s that saying? Three sentences to make a man spend 180,000? I can make my boss my slave in 14 days! 1 When I knocked on President Lucas Qu’s door, I had already cursed his ancestors eighteen generations back in my heart. Damn capitalist, paying me peanuts that even a dog would shake its head at, yet working me like a horse. Calling me to deliver documents on such a cold day, I’m not even his secretary! If it weren’t for the difficulty of finding a job due to the pandemic, I would have thrown my resignation letter in his face long ago. Dog of a man, no wonder he can’t find a girlfriend at his age! While I was cursing my boss ferociously in my mind, the door suddenly opened. Lucas was wearing a set of gray pajamas, his messy hair slightly unkempt, but it couldn’t hide his handsomeness at all. …Being good-looking is his only redeeming quality. He looked down at me condescendingly and said lightly, “Yola You, do you have a facial cramp?” I rubbed my face and put on a stiff smile: “I’m freezing.” Obviously, Lucas didn’t have the organ called conscience. He nodded and reached out to take the documents from my hand. “Mm.” … Mm your mom’s head! Maybe my condemning gaze was too intense, Lucas coughed into his fist and said politely, “Come in for a cup of hot water?” I should have refused. But I was really cold! I pretended not to understand his fake politeness and fake smiled: “Sure, thanks, President Qu.” Lucas: … “Come in.” He stepped aside helplessly to let me in. “Is hot cocoa okay?” After I sat on the sofa, Lucas walked over in his slippers and asked. I nodded: “Okay, okay.” He glanced at me, seemingly surprised by my audacity. While Lucas went into the kitchen to make hot cocoa, I secretly admired his home. A 3,200-square-foot penthouse with a direct view of the sea from the balcony. Whether it was the luxurious chandelier or the Italian imported leather sofa beneath me, they were all blatantly telling me they were expensive. How nice, the evil capitalist living in such a luxurious house with our blood and sweat money! It would be great if I could live in such a good house someday. I counted on my fingers and estimated that I would have to start working from the Southern Song Dynasty to afford this house. “Drink up.” Lucas put the mug on the coffee table and sat on the sofa to the side. I quietly sipped the hot cocoa, stealing glances at Lucas. At the company, he was always in a suit and tie, buttoned up to the top even in the hottest weather. Wearing gold-rimmed glasses, he looked like a refined scum. I had never seen him in loungewear, hair loose, without glasses. He seemed several years younger out of thin air, even carrying a hint of boyishness. “Seen enough?” Lucas said without looking up. I quickly looked away, downed the hot cocoa in a few gulps awkwardly: “Thanks, President Qu, I’ll be going now, rest well!” Lucas nodded: “I’ll see you out.” Saying that, without waiting for me to refuse, he grabbed a jacket from the rack and draped it over his shoulders. The boss seeing me out personally, I was a bit flattered, following behind him downstairs. Out of the elevator, I looked up and saw several people in full protective suits standing in the lobby. …An ominous premonition surged in my heart. Seeing us come down, those people quickly reached out to stop us: “Building 7 has confirmed cases. From now on, it’s locked down, entry only, no exit! Residents please self-isolate at home, we will provide supplies regularly!” … A bolt from the blue! I turned my head in shock to look at the stunned Lucas. I had never seen such a bewildered expression on his face! The epidemic prevention personnel urged us anxiously. Lucas and I looked at each other, not knowing what to do. A minute later, he covered his face: “…Sorry to drag you into this, stay at my place for now.” I didn’t move. He looked at me doubtfully: “What’s wrong? It’s okay, my house has a guest bedroom.” I hesitated for a while, then looked up stutteringly: “…Does the quarantine period count as paid leave?” 2 Life is like a dream. Ten minutes ago, I was sitting here calculating when I would have to start earning money to live in such a big house. And now, I was really going to live here. Lucas took me into the guest bedroom. Although called a guest bedroom, it was more than half the size of my small apartment and also had a view of half the sea. The king-size bed was covered with a bedspread. Lucas pointed to the closet on the side: “There are quilts inside, find one yourself. There’s an en-suite bathroom over there.” I nodded, and Lucas closed the door and went out: “You settle in first.” Hearing his footsteps go away, I threw myself onto the bed. The mattress was soft and supportive, obviously good stuff. Lying on the bed, my feelings were complicated. Paid leave for 14 days, any other time, I would be laughing in my dreams. But if these 14 days are spent living with the boss… How to put it, chocolate that tastes like shit. Lucas’s bed was too comfortable; I accidentally fell asleep thinking about it. When I woke up, I found myself covered with a down duvet. I rolled out of bed and quietly walked into the living room. I slept soundly. It was just past two in the afternoon when I arrived, and now the sunset outside the window had filled half the sky with pink and purple clouds. Lucas sat by the bed, his high nose bridge casting a shadow on his side profile. I was a bit embarrassed: “Thanks, President Qu, sorry to trouble you to cover me.” Lucas turned around, his expression complicated. “Yola, why do you snore when you sleep?” … The three-bedroom apartment under my feet was instantly completed. I felt I could stop living here! More awkwardly, my stomach suddenly growled: Gurgle… Just when I wished I could bang my head on the ground, the stomach growling sounded again. This time it wasn’t me. I looked up, a trace of crimson spreading behind Lucas’s fair ears. He hesitated and asked: “…Can you cook?” I can’t cook; I can only eat. But there are only two people in this house. Either I cook, or Lucas cooks. Letting Lucas cook for me, that would really be looking for death in a latrine with a flashlight. I nodded stiffly: “I can’t, but I can try.” Lucas looked at me skeptically, walked over, and opened his double-door refrigerator. The refrigerator was empty. The scene fell into a suffocating silence. What’s scarier than being trapped in the boss’s house is being trapped in the boss’s house with nothing there. A sour squeeze came from my stomach. I hadn’t eaten lunch, and now my chest was really sticking to my back. Just when I was almost desperate, I suddenly remembered there were two packs of Luosifen (river snail rice noodles) in my bag. I bought them at the supermarket at noon, intending to take them back to eat. I looked at Lucas tentatively: “President Qu, perhaps you’ve eaten Luosifen?” Lucas glanced at me: “No, I don’t like food with strong smells.” “Oh… then do you mind if I eat Luosifen in your house?” 3 Lucas finally reluctantly agreed. Although his expression wasn’t very good. I skillfully boiled water and put in the noodles, adding all kinds of ingredients. Soon, the air was filled with a smell like a blocked sewer. Lucas sat on the sofa, his face livid, covering his nose. After a while, he probably couldn’t stand it anymore and went into his room, closing the door. I snorted disdainfully. Guess he’s still not hungry. I happily put the Luosifen in a big bowl and turned on the drama I was chasing recently. This brand is really amazing. Although a few bucks more expensive than other brands, the taste is so authentic! Just as I was about to slurp the noodles happily, the bedroom door was suddenly pushed open loudly. Lucas’s footsteps were heavy. Repressing his endurance on his beautiful face, he covered his nose and asked me: “Can you eat faster! This smell is like a toilet exploded!” I looked up with a bitter smile: “President Qu, it’s hot!” “Why don’t you taste a bite? This thing is like stinky tofu, smells bad but tastes good.” “Impossible! Even if I starve to death, I will absolutely not eat this thing!” I picked up a chopstick of noodles. The crystal clear rice noodles were covered with tempting soup: “Just taste a bite. Anyway, you already smell like it.” “It’s really delicious!” I heard Lucas’s stomach growl again. He swallowed, a trace of struggle flashing across his face. … “Fine, I’ll just taste one bite.” Lucas indeed just tasted one bite. He changed chopsticks, picked a chopstick-full from my bowl. And slurped away a small half of my bowl in one go. … My hand gripping the chopsticks tightened gradually, and my face started to darken. Lucas glanced at me, sucked all the noodles into his mouth somewhat awkwardly. He wiped his mouth: “…Sorry.” My heart aches so much. Only a bit more than half of the rice noodles left in the bowl! I didn’t speak, took the bowl, and sat aside to slurp. Lucas sat opposite me, coughed once, and didn’t speak. I pretended not to hear. Too much! I hate people who say they’ll just taste but take a huge bite the most! … After a long time, just when I finished the noodles and picked up the bowl to drink the soup, Lucas spoke. His voice was a bit unnatural, whispering: “Is there any left? Help me cook a pack too?” … To compensate me, Lucas and I split the last pack of noodles half and half. After barely eating enough, we sat in the living room filled with the smell. Lucas’s expression was somewhat satisfied, yet somewhat melancholy. “What to eat tomorrow? If I knew earlier, I would have bought some things back.” I didn’t know either, could only comfort him: “It’s okay, maybe supplies will be delivered tomorrow.” He nodded. We had nothing to say, and the atmosphere began to fall silent. I was a bit embarrassed, stood up to go back to the room, planning to take a shower and sleep early. Although Lucas’s house had no food, the toiletries were quite complete. I casually picked up a bottle of shampoo. It was densely written with foreign words I didn’t know, looking expensive at first glance. After taking a comfortable hot bath, I dried myself with a brand new bath towel and planned to go to bed. Just as I took off the bath towel, I suddenly discovered a very awkward problem. …I didn’t bring a change of underwear! 4 Early in the morning, Lucas and I were paralyzed on the sofa, stomachs growling. Hunger made me bold enough to complain: “President Qu, why is there nothing in your house?” Lucas said weakly: “Usually the auntie buys vegetables and cooks. She’s afraid the vegetables aren’t fresh, so she buys them fresh every day.” My hatred for the rich was stirring. …Evil rich people, this is karma. I walked over and opened the window. Lucas looked at me: “What are you doing?” “I’m drinking some northwest wind.” … “I just mentioned it in the owners’ group chat. The property management said vegetables can be delivered at noon. Bear with it a bit longer.” We just lay on the sofa watching TV, enduring the time with difficulty. “Lanzhou people say their morning starts with a bowl of beef ramen. This city with more than a thousand ramen restaurants consumes a million bowls of ramen every day…” Looking at the ramen with clear soup and white noodles, sprinkled with cilantro and beef on the screen, I swallowed. Lucas’s Adam’s apple moved too. He looked at the TV: “This is the first time I’ve wanted to eat ramen so much.” Ramen my ass, pull a few knives (kill me) instead. Don’t know what can be delivered at noon. Lucas turned to look at me: “Yola, let’s go out for noodles when the lockdown is lifted?” I nodded: “Sure, when will the lockdown be lifted?” Lucas was optimistic: “Should be just 14 days. The epidemic situation here isn’t very serious.” I hesitated for a long time: “President Qu… um…” “?” He looked at me doubtfully. I gritted my teeth and braved it: “Can you ask the property management to deliver a few pairs of panties for me!” Lucas opened his mouth slightly, staring at me blankly. His fair skin turned visibly red: “Ah…” I lowered my head, blushing, and didn’t speak. I really didn’t want to trouble the property management, but I couldn’t always go commando! A lone man and woman in a room, this is too that! Silence, suffocating silence. After a while, Lucas’s voice sounded vaguely: “What size do you wear?” … The property management was very efficient. Just past lunchtime, they delivered a big bag of vegetables, fruits, rice, noodles, and meat. And three pairs of women’s panties. Lucas looked at the three small packages of panties, throwing them to me as if they were hot potatoes: “Your stuff!” I glanced at him speechlessly. Making a fuss over nothing. What about panties? Doesn’t he wear underwear? Everything arrived. Lucas and I sat at the dining table staring at each other. “Cough.” He signaled with his eyes that it was time for me to cook. I turned my head away, pretending not to understand. “Cough cough!” … “Yola.” I looked up at him. “Go cook.” I looked at Lucas sincerely: “President Qu, I’m not lazy. It’s just that these ingredients are too precious. I’m afraid I’ll ruin them.” It’s one thing to work like a horse at work, but wanting me to be a free nanny too. Dream on! Today I, the salted fish, will turn over and make the boss work like a horse for me! Lucas rolled his eyes at me, his gaze complex, as if regretting recruiting me. After a stalemate for a long time, he stood up helplessly: “You should know how to wash vegetables, right? Let’s make vinegar shredded potatoes.” I moved a small stool to sit in the kitchen peeling potatoes. Lucas rolled up his sleeves and somehow got an apron. Really, bad students have a lot of stationery. Acting like it’s a real thing. He tied a beautiful bow behind his back and took the potatoes I peeled to shred. Lucas seemed to be holding not a potato but a bomb. Brows furrowed, he bent over holding that potato carefully, gesturing for a long time before making the first cut. Looking at this posture, I felt it wasn’t good. Lucas noticed me looking at him and turned slightly embarrassed to block the potato: “Wash your vegetables.” The sound of the kitchen knife landing on the cutting board was sometimes light and sometimes heavy. Lucas’s appearance of facing a formidable enemy infected me, and soon I became a bit nervous too. … If he cuts off a finger, it’s not easy to go to the hospital now! I looked at Lucas’s busy back with worry. More than twenty minutes later, just when my stomach rumbled again, Lucas said with embarrassment with his back to me: “Not eating shredded potatoes today. Let’s eat vinegar potato chunks.” …Vinegar potato chunks, is this fucking appropriate?! But since I wasn’t working, I was embarrassed to say much. I could only nod and comfort: “That works too. Anyway, the shape coming out after eating is the same.” Lucas glanced at me sideways: “I somewhat regret letting you come to deliver documents now.” You think I don’t regret it?! Do I want to eat your bullshit vinegar potato chunks here?! Lucas is indeed the boss. Cooking is like working in the company. One moment asking me to bring vinegar, the next moment asking me to bring salt. “Hey, it’s burning, it’s burning, pour some water quickly!” I spun around in the kitchen like a top, poured a bowl of water and handed it to him. Lucas poured all the water into the pot with a splash, instantly submerging the potatoes. Okay, looks like we can’t eat vinegar potato chunks either. Let’s drink potato soup today. A white smoke smelling of vinegar rose in the kitchen. Lucas’s eyes lit up: “Right! That’s the smell!” … When we sat down at the dining table, an hour had passed. At the huge table, Lucas and I occupied one side each. In the middle was a plate of semi-soup potato chunks. Lucas picked up his phone and took a bunch of pictures of the potatoes, somewhat proud: “This is the first time I cooked a dish!” I looked at the half-cooked potato chunks of various shapes and sizes in front of me, soaking in the soup like in a hot spring. I really don’t understand what Lucas is proud of. Lucas lifted his thin eyelids, raised his chin and pointed at me: “Taste it, how is it?” I feel this dish has a strange magic. Looking at it makes you full; not hungry anymore. But if I really dare not to give the leader face, I guess after the paid leave, I will be on indefinite leave. I picked up a piece of potato, took a deep breath, and put it in my mouth. Sour, really fucking sour. Killing the vinegar seller. Besides sourness, there was no other taste. Too little salt, too much water. After chewing a mouthful of potato eighty-one times, I struggled to pull out a smile. “Delicious! It’s really too delicious, this taste is too authentic!” Lucas’s mouth corners hooked up: “Smart people are fast at everything. Tomorrow I can make shredded potatoes.” He reached out and picked up a piece of potato. Then his expression began to change constantly, just like the streamer selling black plums I saw on TikTok. His features tangled together, chewed reluctantly, closed his eyes and swallowed. “Delicious, really too delicious. I’m full, Yola, the rest is yours.” He pushed the plate in front of me. … I suspect my leader wants to humanely destroy me with a plate of potatoes. Just as I was worrying looking at the potatoes, Lucas burst out laughing. I looked up at him. Spots of light from the crystal chandelier sprinkled on his face. His eyelids showed a slight pink, and his eyes were full of smiles. I had never seen Lucas like this. I looked at him somewhat dazed. Lucas held the chopsticks with his slender fingers, looking at me and said: “Just kidding.” “If I poison you, wouldn’t I be isolating here alone?”

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I was doomscrolling through a late-night advice thread on Reddit when a post stopped me cold. “Hired a college girl. How do I get the worn-out wife to sign the divorce papers without losing the house?” The top-rated comment was chillingly specific: “Tell her you gambled away a fortune and only divorce can protect the family assets.” “Convince her to divorce but keep living with you. You get to party with the mistress while she takes care of your parents and kids.” “Come back when you’re old and let the kids take care of you.” I was so disgusted I logged into a burner account and slammed the commenters for being inhuman. The very next morning, my husband, Travis, was kneeling at my feet, his face a mask of counterfeit agony. “Liz, I’m so sorry. I gambled everything away. I owe ten million dollars.” “We have to get divorced. I can’t drag you down with me.” 1 Hearing those words from Travis Miller, my first thought wasn’t fear—it was that toxic Reddit thread. Just to be sure, I kept my tone light. “Honey, you’re joking, right?” Travis flashed a text on his phone—a picture of a generic, threatening collection notice. “I’m serious, Liz. They said if I don’t pay up, they’re going to cut off my hands.” His face was contorted in terror, but if I looked closely, past the trembling lips, his eyes were eerily calm. I still didn’t want to believe he was that kind of man—the kind who posted for advice on how to ruin his wife. “Okay,” I conceded, forcing a sigh. “So, how do you want to handle the divorce?” Relief—a flicker too quick, too bright—flashed across his face. “Liz, I’m wiped out. I can’t split any money with you, but I’m leaving you and Piper the house, no question.” He paused for the crucial line. “We’ll get a fake divorce. I’ll go out of state, earn back the money, and we’ll remarry as soon as the debt is settled.” I swallowed hard. His speech was a verbatim recital of the Reddit thread’s hot-take strategy. When my expression darkened, Travis rushed to soothe me. “Honey, you have to trust me. Even if we divorce, I still love you.” My heart sank with every empty, earnest word. The more he pleaded, the more certain I was: He was the poster. He had played me for a fool. I pulled the corners of my mouth into a frozen smile and decided on one final test. “Of course I trust you, Travis. How about this: we sell the house and the cars to pay off part of the debt, and we tell your parents everything so they can help, too.” The color drained from his face. Selling the house and, worse, involving his parents, Robert and Eleanor? That would derail his entire plan to take his mistress and walk away clean. “No! We can’t tell Mom and Dad. You know Dad’s heart is bad. If he hears I lost that much money, it will kill him.” He grabbed my hand. “And the house stays! Where will you, Piper, and Mom and Dad live?” He leaned in again, trying to manipulate my motherhood. “Liz, Piper is still so little. Do you want her to grow up in constant fear of debt collectors?” “Just give me a few years, and we’ll be a family again. Ten years of marriage, Liz. Don’t you believe in me?” A fake divorce. In the eyes of the law, a divorce is just a divorce. There’s no such thing as fake. But if he wanted a divorce, I would give him one. “Fine,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Let’s go file now.” We still had the mandated one-month cooling-off period. As soon as we left the courthouse, Travis made a rushed excuse and peeled away. I quietly followed. I watched him pull a dozen deep-red roses out of his trunk and stride toward a university gate. A tiny, blonde girl came running out and melted into his arms. I took out my phone and captured a dozen shots of them kissing, oblivious to the world. 2 That same night, the Reddit post was updated. “Update: The worn-out wife agreed to the divorce. She gets the house, but not a dime of money.” The comments underneath were a vile chorus of praise. “Bro, 666. A drone at home, a little flower outside. A real inspiration.” “When you’re tired of playing, you just return to the family. You don’t have to raise the kids, and they pay for your retirement.” I was sickened, but I couldn’t resist commenting from my burner account again. “Aren’t you afraid of karma for calculating your wife like this?” Travis’s (or the poster’s) reply was instant: “Having to live with a worn-out wife forever is karma.” Another commenter mocked me: “Why are you defending her? Are you a worn-out wife too? Poor you. Maybe your husband is planning to divorce you right now.” Furious, I screenshot the entire exchange. For the next month, Travis used his fabricated debt as an excuse to be out of the house. When Bob and Eleanor asked, he claimed he was “traveling for work,” but I knew he was shacked up with the college girl. I kept my mouth shut. Finally, the day came to finalize the divorce. As he handed me the final paper, Travis struggled to hide his glee. “Liz, I quit my job. I’m heading out of state to hide from the debt collectors. Mom, Dad, and Piper are all yours.” “Remember, don’t let my parents try to contact me. It’ll just put them on the debt collectors’ radar.” Before I could even agree, he was gone. Watching his retreating back, I let a cold, slow smile spread across my face. Travis Miller would never know what he had truly lost today. Later that day, the Reddit post updated one last time. Travis gloated: “Guys, I told the company I applied for an overseas transfer.” “LOL, the worn-out wife actually thinks I’m running from debt. I’m heading overseas to live the high life.” “Eventually, I’ll fake my own death—say the collectors found and killed me. Then I’m free as a bird.” The accompanying picture was a pair of hands, clasped together, both wearing matching rings. The background was an airport gate. I shut off my phone, my face devoid of emotion, and began to think about the next steps. Bob and Eleanor were from old-money families. Years ago, Bob had made a fortune in real estate development. But they believed in poor-parenting for Travis, so he never developed a sense of entitlement. He thought we were merely comfortable middle-class. He had no idea of the true family fortune. I had only stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping that revealed the depth of Bob’s wealth. If Travis was willing to abandon his parents and daughter for a fling, then his parents were now mine. I was an orphan. When I married Travis, it was because I genuinely loved his parents. They were the parents I had always dreamed of. Starting that day, I found three part-time jobs on top of my full-time work. I was often busy until midnight. I lasted only a month before my body gave out. I collapsed one evening right in front of Bob and Eleanor. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Eleanor was hovering over me, her eyes full of worry. “Liz, what on earth have you been doing?” she whispered, tears welling up. “The doctor told me you fainted from severe malnutrition. Malnutrition, Liz! I couldn’t believe it.” I pretended to look guilty and nervous. “Mom, I’m fine. Let’s just check out. We don’t need to waste money.” Eleanor’s expression hardened. “I tried to call Travis earlier. His number is disconnected. Are you two keeping something from us?” I only looked more guilty. “Mom, please don’t imagine things. Nothing is wrong.” Eleanor’s face went grim. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to go find him and ask him myself.” Panicked, I grabbed her hand. “You can’t, Mom! You’ll get him killed!” Bob and Eleanor exchanged a long look, both realizing the situation was serious. “Eliza,” Bob said firmly, using my full name. “Tell us what happened. Whatever it is, we’re a family, and we’ll solve it together.” Feigning being forced, I broke down and told them the edited story: Travis’s gambling debt of ten million dollars and the desperate, fake divorce to protect them. 3 Bob and Eleanor were apoplectic with rage and shock. I quickly composed myself and started my comfort act. “Dad, Mom, please don’t worry. I’ll work more hours. I’ll pay it all back so Travis can come home sooner.” Eleanor’s face softened, filled with intense pity. “Oh, darling, you poor child. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” I shook my head. “It’s fine, Mom. You and Dad are getting older. I didn’t want you to live in fear because of this.” Eleanor was even more moved. “Your father and I have some savings. We’ll call Travis home, and we’ll sell everything to pay off his debt.” I offered a bitter smile. “I wish we could, but he didn’t tell me where he was going. He was afraid the debt collectors would follow me.” “You rest,” Bob commanded. “Your mother and I will find him.” My eyes gleamed for a brief second before I obediently agreed. The next day, Eleanor went to Travis’s company. When she returned, both she and Bob looked sick, and there was a new layer of deep, wrenching guilt in their eyes when they looked at me. I already knew what they knew, but I played the part of the confused, abandoned wife. “Mom, did you find Travis?” Eleanor spoke slowly, her voice thick. “He… he didn’t owe any money. His company said he applied for a transfer overseas.” She paused, then added the dagger. “He left with his girlfriend.” I forced out a smile that was more of a grimace. “Why would he lie to me?” Bob’s voice was heavy with shame. “Eliza, it’s all on us. Travis wronged you. I’m calling him back right now. He’ll come home and beg for your forgiveness.” Bob took the overseas contact number from the company and dialed it immediately. “Son, it’s your father. Where are you? Get back here now!” A pause stretched on the line, followed by a voice that was clearly Travis, but thick with annoyance. “You must have the wrong number. Who is your son?” Bob was stunned. “Travis! You tricked Eliza into a divorce, and now you won’t even acknowledge your own father?” The voice on the other end laughed derisively. “You must be crazy. I’m not your son. Maybe your son died a long time ago!” The line clicked dead. Bob was breathing hard, his face fiery red, clutching his chest. I started to rush to his side, but before I could, Bob’s face went slack, and he collapsed—a brain hemorrhage. The hospital quickly issued a critical condition notice. Eleanor grabbed my hand, frantic and lost. “Mom, we have to call Travis again,” I urged. “If Dad… if he doesn’t make it, he has to see him one last time.” Eleanor called back immediately. “Son, your father is dying. You—” Travis cut her off immediately. “Lady, even if your son died, you can’t just call any man and claim he’s him. I am not your son.” Eleanor was sobbing now. “Son, I’m begging you. Please come home and see your father one last time.” “I told you I am not your son! Don’t call this number again!” Travis hung up. No matter how many times Eleanor called, he refused to answer. Finally, he blocked all our numbers. Fortunately, Bob’s surgery was successful. Learning that his son refused to return even when faced with his possible death was the final straw. “That animal,” Bob choked out, struggling to breathe. “Since he says his son died a long time ago, fine. From this day forward, I have no son named Travis Miller!” 4 I felt a small surge of vindication, but kept my outward demeanor soft. “Dad, I know Travis didn’t mean it. Please don’t be angry.” Bob turned his head toward me, guilt written all over his face. “Eliza, the Miller family has failed you.” He tried to get out of bed to kneel. I quickly stopped him. “Dad, please don’t say that. I was an orphan. In my heart, you and Mom are my parents. A daughter would never blame her own parents.” Bob’s eyes welled up. “Good, good. Eliza, if you don’t mind, from now on, you are our daughter.” Eleanor gripped my hand tightly. “Eliza, will you call us Mom and Dad?” Tears streamed down my face. This time, they were genuine. “Dad. Mom.” Eleanor wiped her own tears. “I may have lost a son, but today, I gained a wonderful daughter. Eliza, you are officially our family.” With my dedicated care, Bob recovered quickly. The day he was discharged, Bob and Eleanor took me straight to a realtor. They paid cash for a luxury condo and put it entirely in my name. I started to object, but Eleanor cut me off. “Eliza, it’s a gift from your parents. Do you like it?” I swallowed my refusal, replacing it with a tearful, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad. I love it.” It was their ultimate seal of approval. From that day on, Bob and Eleanor never mentioned Travis again. Eleanor even threw out every picture and souvenir of him. I slowly and surely took his place in their hearts. Five years passed. My bond with Bob and Eleanor grew stronger. To anyone who didn’t know our history, we were a real, loving family. One evening, after I came home from work, Eleanor called me over. “Eliza, you’re not getting any younger. Have you thought about dating, maybe remarrying?” “Bob’s friend has a son, about your age. He knows your situation and doesn’t mind that you have Piper.” I shook my head gently. “Mom, I just want to focus on raising Piper and taking care of you and Dad. I don’t need to get married again.” Eleanor was touched, but I saw the self-reproach in her eyes. She thought I was still heartbroken over Travis. On the contrary, I had moved on a long time ago. I had a house, a car, and financial security. Why would I invite the complication of marriage back into my life? Besides, while I didn’t want to get married, I had a secret. I did have a boyfriend. He was only twenty-one, full of youthful energy and life. “If you don’t want to, then don’t,” Eleanor said, pulling me into a hug. “You and Piper will never go hungry as long as your father and I are around.” “Mom, you are so good to me. Having you for a mother is the greatest fortune of my life.” I hugged her back, making her smile beam. Two days later, Bob called me into his study. “Eliza, take a day off next week. We’re going to a notary. We’re putting all the assets in my name into a trust for you and Piper.” I kept my expression neutral, simply nodding. Over the years, the stream of gifts from my parents had been constant. This was when I truly grasped the depth of their wealth. The ten million dollars Travis lied about was a mere rounding error to them. But that very night, Travis’s Reddit post updated. “Bored with the life. Preparing to return to the family.” The attached photo was an airline ticket. The date was three days away. I quickly checked the calendar. He was due back the exact day Bob was planning the asset transfer.

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