Category: English

My roommate was the absolute epitome of a “damsel in distress.” She’d yelp like a kitten if startled or bumped, drank exclusively from a baby cup, and insisted her boyfriend spoon-feed her every meal. In my previous life, my inherent kindness made me her prime target. She latched onto me, bleeding me dry. On the Summer Solstice Festival, the illegal electric scooter battery she kept in our dorm exploded. She locked the door behind her, fleeing for her life, leaving me trapped, burned alive, charred into a mummy. Later, she monetized my agony, live-streaming my grotesque suffering for ten thousand dollars a day. My parents, hounded by online mobs and debt collectors, were driven to suicide. I withered away in a hospital bed, consumed by hatred, until my last breath. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back, one month before it all happened. The moment she started her theatrics again, I gripped her throat, my voice a low snarl: “I’ll make you regret every breath you take.” 1 My eyes snapped open. A phantom agony, the ghost of fire, still prickled my skin. Instinctively, I touched my arm, expecting to find scorched, blistered flesh. Instead, my touch met smooth, unblemished skin. I sat up. The room was bright, no longer the charred, smoke-choked hellscape of my memories. “Does my little darling need a shot, huh?” a man’s teasing voice drifted into the room, and my heart seized. “Hmph, I’m just a wittle baby~ I don’t understand that, silly!” a sickeningly sweet giggle echoed. Serena Hayes, perched on her bed, was cooing into a video call with her boyfriend, Leo Maxwell, the speaker blaring at maximum volume. The saccharine sounds of their playful banter flooded my ears, relentlessly. “Are guys’ dorms like this too?” Serena tilted her head cutely, beaming at the camera. “Wonder what my roommate’s doing? I’ll show you—” With that, she swung her phone, aiming the camera directly at me, sitting on my bed. “She’s just sitting there,” Serena whispered, stifling a laugh, her voice airy and theatrical. “Oh dear, she’s not wearing clothes. How naughty!” A suggestive chuckle rumbled from the man on the screen. I was in my underwear, caught off guard, exposed to a stranger. A wave of fury surged through me. In my last life, these “accidents” had happened countless times. She’d spilled water on my bed, “accidentally” dropped my laptop, always batting her eyelashes and playing dumb to escape consequences. I’d treated her like a younger sister, showering her with patience and care. In return, I’d ended up with eighty percent burns, confined to an ICU, clinging to a life of agony. My parents, victims of relentless online bullying, were driven to jump to their deaths by debt collectors. A hot wave of rage consumed me. “Serena Hayes,” I snapped, my voice sharp, “did I forget to chew you out today?” “I didn’t know you weren’t dressed,” Serena chirped, her face a mask of innocence, the camera still aimed at me. “Elara has such big boobs, unlike me, I’m just a little baby.” Leo’s voice from the phone: “Even if my baby’s a runway, Daddy still loves it.” I knew she was unhinged, but not this unhinged. “My mistake. I forgot you weren’t human.” I quickly pulled on a jacket, then clamped my hand over her camera lens. “Point that camera at me again, and I’ll smash this phone right into your face.” “Meow!” Serena flinched, shrinking back, which made Leo croon, “What’s your roommate’s problem? She scared my little kitty!” “Why are you suddenly like this? I’m just a silly little dummy!” she whined into the camera, feigning sobs. “Silly little dummies can’t have bad intentions, can they? And he’s my boyfriend. What’s wrong with showing him?” My teeth ground. The anger I’d bottled up hadn’t even had a chance to erupt when Leo’s voice chimed in from the other end. “Don’t be sad, baby. Who knows if your roommate did it on purpose?” Serena’s eyes widened. She stared at me, a defensive glint in her gaze. “Elara, you wouldn’t intentionally wear just underwear when I’m video calling my boyfriend, would you?” My teeth gnashed audibly. “Are you serious? Is your head just for decoration?” Small brain, big confusion. Are you okay? Are you two okay? Watching the two of them descend deeper into absurdity, I took a deep breath. “Serena Hayes, is your brain just a hollow echo chamber? Did you hide when humans evolved, or what?” “This is my dorm too. I’ll wear whatever I want in my own space. And sorry, but I don’t recycle trash here. You two are a match made in hell: one an idiot, the other a monster. I wish you a hundred years of misery together. And can you please keep it down in the dorm? Stop barking all the time.” Reborn, inhabiting a body unmarred by fire, my tongue felt sharp, honed to a deadly edge. The pent-up resentment began to dissipate with each vicious word. Truly, it’s better to burn out others than to burn out yourself. “Judging by your logic, your common sense took a detour, didn’t it? And seriously, put on some headphones. If you can’t, get out. Nobody wants to listen to you and your boyfriend’s disgusting little acts.” Insulting once was sweet. Insulting repeatedly was pure bliss. The moment the words left my mouth, the dorm fell into an eerie silence. Even the boisterous sounds from the guys’ dorm on the video call went quiet. I couldn’t care less about their reactions. I finished getting dressed and walked straight out the door. I was moving out of this lunatic asylum. “Still quite the little firecracker.” A scoff drifted from behind me. Serena, having recovered her composure, joined in the laughter. “Girls with good figures have capital. What’s wrong with showing it to men?” A cold smile touched my lips. I mentally calculated the timeline. Her belly would soon be “poked” by her dear boyfriend. 2 Once I’d made up my mind, I quickly contacted a real estate agent to start apartment hunting. The savings from years of diligent part-time jobs, combined with my weekend tutoring income, were enough to secure a cozy one-bedroom apartment. As I returned to the dorm to pack my bags, the door suddenly swung open. Serena walked in, carrying a large battery. She immediately latched onto my arm, shaking it playfully, her voice dripping with her usual saccharine whine. “Elara, my love, can I charge this here? I don’t have enough outlets over at my spot.” I glanced at the already bulging battery, then smoothly pulled my arm away, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion. “No.” Serena pouted, her lips forming a sad little rosebud. “Elara, sweetie~ Just for a little while, please? I really don’t have enough plugs…” I took a half-step back, subtly widening the distance between us. “I’m moving out. After that, you can use the outlets however you want.” I looked up, catching a flash of annoyance in her eyes before it vanished. “What’s wrong with you lately? You’re not acting like yourself.” Her voice was laced with clear resentment. “Did someone say something bad about me?” The next second, she suddenly clasped her hands over her head and crouched on the floor, letting out an exaggerated wail. “Oh no! I made big sister Elara mad! It’s all my fault!” “Having another episode?” I blinked, unsure what new charade she was pulling. “If you’re sick, don’t come to me. I’m not a vet.” Serena’s face stiffened for a moment. She poked her index fingers together, still speaking in a high-pitched, childish voice, “Did kitty make you angry?” “Talk to me once your brain juice is properly stirred.” I took two steps back. “Elara Vance, you’re being so petty!” a familiar male voice suddenly boomed through the dorm. “You won’t even let her borrow an outlet, and you’re using moving out as an excuse!” Serena held up her phone. The screen clearly showed a video call. Leo Maxwell had been listening in the entire time? A wave of nausea washed over me. I wanted to spit on both of them. Were they so cheap they couldn’t afford a hotel? They had to treat a video call like a honeymoon suite. Serena seemed oblivious to my dark expression, prattling on. “Is it because of the video last time? Your figure is so good, Brody Reed even praised you! He’s the captain of the school basketball team!” I listened to her self-righteous words, sinking into a strange silence. All I could think were two words: Insane! “Honey! Say something!” Leo’s voice boomed from the speaker: “Elara Vance, I swear, my buddies all said you have big boobs and a tiny waist. You came out on top here…” “You two…” I took a deep breath, words of pure venom spilling from my mouth. “Are you operating with half a brain, or just a mouth full of bad food?” Serena’s face flushed crimson. She stomped her foot. “Honey, look at her! She wasn’t like this before!” “I’ve seen people with tiny feet, but never a mind so tightly bound. Since your darling boyfriend is so considerate—” I snapped my suitcase shut with a sharp click. “Why don’t you take that battery to his dorm to charge?” I grabbed my suitcase, heading for the door without looking back. “After all, he loves you so much, he’ll surely be willing.” “Of course, baby,” Leo crooned tenderly. “This weekend, Daddy’s taking you camping, just the two of us.” “Okay~ Daddy, I want my baby bowl,” Serena giggled, pointing at her small belly and mouth. “Baby wants her baby bowl, Daddy, baby’s tummy is rumbling!” I froze, a wave of pure physical revulsion rising in my stomach. Thanks for the invite… I’m thoroughly disgusted. Sometimes, I truly felt like an alien in this mad world, simply because I was so normal. 3 After signing the lease and completing the necessary paperwork with the dorm office, I moved directly into my new apartment. This time, there would be no blood bag for Serena to drain. Could she still maintain her “dumb beauty” act? And as for that battery, Leo had already taken it back to his dorm to charge. When that ticking time bomb would finally explode was no longer my concern. When she realized I hadn’t returned to the dorm for a week, Serena finally grew anxious. My phone buzzed incessantly with WeChat messages: “Elara, when are you coming back?” “Did you finish the class assignment?” “Elara… you’re not mad at me, are you?” I stared at the screen, a cold smirk on my lips. Yes, in my previous life, I had been her willing doormat. If she didn’t want to do an assignment, I’d pull all-nighters for her. If she caused trouble, I’d take the blame. Even when she “accidentally” live-streamed me changing, I’d just sigh, letting her charm and pretend her way out of it. But now? I typed a reply: Did you have a stomach bug these past few days and accidentally pass your brain? I already told you I moved out. Then, with a swipe of my finger, I decisively dragged her into my blacklist. The world was finally at peace. My rental was small, but I’d meticulously cleaned and brightened it. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, making the air feel light and free. I thought she had finally quieted down. Until, in the dead of night, my phone’s shrill ringtone suddenly ripped through the silence. I jolted awake, my heart pounding. This was a lingering effect from the accident in my previous life; whenever I was startled awake, my heart would race uncontrollably. I hadn’t expected it to follow me into this life. I glanced at the phone screen. It was Serena Hayes. I endured the discomfort and blocked her number. Just as I lay back down, trying to calm my racing heart, the phone rang again, tearing through the night’s stillness. This time, it was Alex Green, the class leader. I stared at the flashing screen, letting the ringtone echo through the room. But the calls kept coming, one after another, and the throbbing in my chest forced me to answer. I asked him what was so urgent. His voice immediately launched into a barrage of accusations: “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” “It’s twelve-thirty at night,” I paused. “I’m doing what normal people do: sleeping.” Alex’s voice immediately escalated: “Well, you still need to answer! You’re making Serena so worried! You need to apologize to her right now!” “Why should I apologize to her?” I retorted, a cold edge to my voice. But he wouldn’t let up, ranting on and on. “I’ve never met anyone so shameless.” “You’re not coming home at night, and you think you’re in the right?” His voice filled with righteous indignation. “Serena was worried you were being tricked by some guy, and this is the attitude you give her?” “…My chest tightened.” It was Serena again. “Are you insane or just stupid? Are you so emotional you can’t even think?”

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My boyfriend’s third bankruptcy hit without warning. Loan sharks, demanding ten million dollars, blockaded our doorstep. Trapped by hulking figures in the entryway, I inadvertently glimpsed his tablet. A group chat log was open: “Think she can actually pay back ten mil?” “If not, she can sell herself. Women make money fast.” “Still, Caleb’s the real champ. Got Miss Kingsley on one arm, the flower girl wrapped around his little finger with the other.” Tears welled, blurring my vision. I remembered selling Grandma’s old house for him, emptying Mom’s savings—her dowry—for him. My hand trembled as I set the tablet down. I dialed my billionaire father: “You just want me to inherit the family business and marry your protégé, right? Fine. I’ll do it. Send someone to pick me up in three days.” I hung up. Caleb Hawk pushed the door open, a signed promissory note dangling in his hand. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. I owe another ten million…” The “confusion” in his eyes, which once twisted my gut with sympathy, now struck me as a cruel joke. I stared at the watch on his wrist—a Patek Philippe, listed at $160 million in a magazine. He wore a $160 million watch, feigning poverty over a ten-million-dollar debt, while I, penniless, had contemplated seeking out loan sharks for him. He noticed my gaze, quickly tucking the watch into his sleeve. “It’s just a fake. When I have money…” Before he could finish, another message popped up on the tablet: “Caleb, what’s she selling this time? Her house or her body?” “If it’s her body, I’ll book the first night!” Obscenities flooded the screen. In our three years together, I’d bailed him out twice: The first time, I sold Grandma’s house; he promised to give me a proper home. The second time, I emptied my dowry; he knelt, swearing he’d marry me. Only now did I realize those “promises” were nothing but elaborate deceptions. Caleb glanced at the messages, frowning as he typed a reply in the group chat: “Buzz off, all of you! Just wait for the show!” Then he clung to me, pulling me into a hug. “Ellie, this is the last time. Once it’s paid off, I’ll marry you.” The “sincerity” on his face made me laugh—what made me so special, that a rich playboy would go to such lengths to deceive me, even using marriage as a bargaining chip? I pushed him away. “Caleb, I’m out of money.” He froze, then his eyes widened in anger. “So you think I’m a loser too? I knew I misjudged you!” He slammed the door and left. This was his go-to tactic, his weapon to break my will. But I simply blocked all his contacts. I picked up the promissory note—no fingerprints, a clumsy forgery. I’d fallen for such an obvious fake twice. I called the real estate agent. “The flower shop on Main Street. Please help me sublease it.” That shop, I’d opened it to support him. Now, I was leaving it behind. Packing my bags, I surveyed the “surprises” in our rented apartment—greeting cards thrown out by bakeries, pebbles picked from the street, paper rings he’d folded. Every time he’d given them to me, he’d feigned surprise, as if they were precious finds. Only now did I understand: these were mere props, casually acquired, their contents likely forgotten by him even as he presented them. Sunlight streamed through the window onto the empty floor. I took one last look at this “home” filled with lies, then pulled my suitcase toward the door. Three days later, my father’s car pulled up exactly on time. My phone buzzed frantically with Caleb Hawk’s texts: “Ellie, where are you? I got the money, let’s start over…” I deleted the messages and stepped into the luxury car. In the rearview mirror, the dismal rental apartment shrunk, just like three years of my devoted heart, finally crumbling to dust under the harsh, unyielding sunlight. And in the distance, around the street corner, Caleb Hawk had Brooke Kingsley’s arm draped around his waist, pointing at my car and laughing to someone. “See that? That’s the flower girl I got bored of playing with.” A bitter smile touched my lips. “Drive,” I told the driver. From that moment on, Caleb Hawk’s schemes would no longer involve Eleanor Hawk. His only decent gift was a necklace he bought from a street vendor for eighty dollars when his first startup succeeded. I’d been furious, thinking he was wasting money. But Caleb had just watched me, amused. He’d called me silly, asking what would happen if he really became rich someday and I still couldn’t bear to spend money. I’d thought then he was being considerate. Now, it was clear he truly thought I was a fool. Scrolling through the dense, sprawling chat logs, there were exactly 517 instances of Caleb calling me silly. When I’d run through three streets to buy him his favorite late-night snack, he’d called me “Ellie, so silly.” When he’d had a fever, I’d draped my only raincoat over him, carrying him on my back to the clinic, and he’d remarked, “She’s ridiculously stupid.” Even when I lay in his arms, dreaming of a brighter future with him, he’d post in the group chat: “Ellie’s hopelessly stupid, dreaming of a future with me when she’s this poor…” Even in cold text, I could imagine the disdain and mockery with which he’d typed those words. But it didn’t matter anymore. In my future, Eleanor Hawk’s future, Caleb Hawk would no longer exist. I continued to pack, but in the end, my large suitcase remained mostly empty. The trash can, however, overflowed. I surveyed this home, where I’d lived for two years, one last time. Peeling paint stained with watermarks, a chair with a broken leg, a bed cobbled together from bricks and planks… During better times, I’d thought about decorating this place, making it feel like a home. But Caleb had always refused. He’d say we wouldn’t live here once he had money, so decorating was pointless. I’d believed every one of his promises, then clung to this dilapidated apartment, foolishly waiting for those promises to materialize. Thinking about it all, I suddenly felt a profound sense of pointlessness. I closed my suitcase. The real estate agent called. “Miss Hawk, I can’t finalize the sublease for the flower shop without your personal discussion with the landlord.” At 3 PM sharp, I arrived at the designated office building to meet the agent. In the lavish corridor, through a slightly ajar door, I saw Caleb Hawk. He was in a well-fitted suit, head bowed, fiddling with his phone. Beside him, a meticulously dressed woman leaned intimately against his shoulder. The moment I saw her, I recognized her. Two days prior, the flower shop received an order for nine hundred ninety-nine roses. Because the customer specifically requested the thorns not be removed, I’d spent hours, my hands bleeding, wrapping them all. When I personally delivered them by taxi, the recipient was this very woman, Brooke Kingsley. Tucked into the center of the roses was a small card, as requested by the customer: “To my lifelong love, Brooke. Signed: CH.” Only at this moment did it click: CH stood for Caleb Hawk. He had known, with chilling clarity, that I would never turn down such a large order, desperate as I was for money. So he had deliberately made those demands, watching me spin around, a puppet on his strings. The thought made me laugh, tears welling in my eyes. After I’d gone home that day, I’d even excitedly shared with Caleb that I’d made good money. When he’d tenderly bandaged my wounds, was he, even then, silently sneering, calling me a fool, reducing my pain to a punchline? Wiping away the tears from my eyes, the agent arrived. He saw me standing by the door and asked, puzzled, “Miss Hawk, the landlord is inside. Why don’t you go in?” My eyes, still tear-rimmed, stared at the agent in shock. “You said who? The landlord? Caleb Hawk?” The agent, oblivious, replied, “Yes. You didn’t know? That entire block on Main Street, it’s all Mr. Hawk’s territory.” I looked at Caleb Hawk’s figure in the distance. Painful memories, long dormant, surged forth like a bitter tide, threatening to drown me. After I’d helped Caleb pay off his debt the second time, I spent a long period struggling to make ends meet, unable to even pay rent. Four or five burly men had crowded the flower shop entrance, demanding rent. They’d smashed all the flowers in the shop, and even stomped on my cat, Snowball, letting him shriek in pain without releasing their feet. Snowball had been with me for twelve years; he wasn’t just a pet, but as vital to me as Caleb himself, a member of my family. I’d cried, my voice choked with tears, kneeling on the floor, begging them to spare him. In the three years I’d owned the shop, there had been countless times I’d been harassed for rent or protection money. But I’d never mentioned it to Caleb; I didn’t want to burden him. But this time, I was truly terrified. I’d called him, crying so hard I could barely breathe. I’d asked him, “Caleb, what do I do? Save Snowball, save him…” Caleb had known how important Snowball was to me, yet he’d remained silent for a long time before saying he was sorry. I’d watched, powerless, as those men trampled my cat to death. I’d held him, feeling him grow cold, then stiff, in my arms. Just as helpless as I had been when Mom’s life slipped away in my arms years ago. Yet, even after that, I hadn’t hated Caleb. I’d only regretted my own helplessness. But now, the truth was laid bare before me: the landlord who forced me to pay rent was Caleb Hawk. The one who could have saved Snowball with a single word was also Caleb Hawk. But he hadn’t saved him. And Snowball had died. I almost bit through my tongue to keep the sob from escaping my lips. I ran out of the office building, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to go to the airport. In the car, my hand trembling, I called my father. Twenty-seven years old, and the only person I could rely on now was the father I’d always tried to deny. “Dad, can you come pick me up now? Please…” … Meanwhile, Caleb Hawk, Brooke Kingsley, and his group of friends emerged from the office. Caleb’s head was bowed, his eyes fixed on the message thread with me on his screen. For two full days, I hadn’t sent him a single message. He was agitated, pulling out a cigarette, then putting it back when he remembered I didn’t like the smell of smoke on him. His buddy, standing behind him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, a hint of schadenfreude in his voice as he looked at the dark screen. “What’s up, Caleb? Is the little girl out of money this time? Not playing with you anymore?” A flash of frustrated anger crossed Caleb’s eyes. He shoved his friend’s arm away. “Who said that? Ellie loves me so much. She’s probably scrambling somewhere to get me the money right now!” “You just wait. After I give her a few days of cold shoulder, she’ll hand over the cash!” No sooner had he spoken than the real estate agent, who’d overheard my name, approached. “Ellie? Mr. Hawk, you know Miss Hawk? Perfect! She wants to sublease her flower shop. I was worried you might not approve!” Caleb frowned. He had a vague feeling that the anxiety building in his heart over the past few days was about to find its answer. He forced himself to remain composed, feigning nonchalance. “The flower shop is doing fine. Why would she sublease it?” The agent gave him a placating smile, completely unaware of the significance of his words. “Miss Hawk said she’s tired of running the shop and wants to go home to get married.” Caleb’s phone clattered to the floor. He lunged, grabbing the agent’s collar, his expression savage. “What did you say? Married? Who’s getting married?!” The agent, startled by his sudden aggression, stammered. “Mr. Hawk, it’s Eleanor, Miss Hawk, who’s getting married. Don’t, don’t you know her?” “IMPOSSIBLE!” Caleb roared. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving violently. The agent was almost collapsing in fear, but Caleb held him tight by the collar. Finally, Caleb’s friends rushed over, talking him down, persuading him to let go. The agent, gasping for breath, quickly dropped the lease transfer agreement and fled. Caleb stood there, clutching the flimsy paper in his hand, feeling as if his very breath had become heavy. “Caleb, Ellie must be playing hard to get. She loves you so much, how could she marry someone else?” “Yeah, Caleb. Maybe she’s subleasing the flower shop just to pay off your debts!”

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My marriage to Ethan had been a symphony, a model of perfect harmony, widely seen as the ideal union of a benevolent ruler and his wise queen. Less than a year after his passing, I followed him. Then, my eyes fluttered open, and we were both back in our youth. This time, he didn’t reach for my hand as he had in our past life. Instead, he turned, knelt before the King, and begged for the decree to be revoked. He wanted to annul our engagement. To marry Isabella, the merchant’s daughter. 1 It was the twelfth year of King Arthur’s reign. A year when the Montgomery family’s influence was at its zenith. And the year I, fully recovered from my injuries, returned to the Capital from the Southern Coast. One moment, my ears were filled with the mournful cries of palace attendants. The next, I was reborn, finding myself walking the familiar path to greet the Queen Mother. Inside the Royal Conservatory, I curtsied gracefully. “Aubrey greets Your Majesty.” “My dear Aubrey, you’re finally back!” The Queen Mother beamed with delight, personally descending from her throne to help me rise. “Seeing you well, my heart is finally at ease. I heard you arrived in the Capital; the Crown Prince has been summoned by his uncle, discussing your betrothal.” I knew this union was the Queen Mother’s own arrangement. A faint smile touched my lips as I lowered my gaze. “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. But might this be a bit… rushed?” The Queen Mother sighed. “Ah, my child, you suffered such grievous injuries, delaying your life for three years. How could I not be anxious? Besides, Ethan is already sixteen this year. It’s time for him to marry.” She pulled me to sit beside her, her face radiating warmth, her tone unwavering. “Now, don’t you worry. The Crown Prince is a gentle and considerate soul. Marrying him, you will never suffer a moment of hardship.” I recalled my past life. Indeed, I had never suffered any hardship. For decades, married to Ethan, we had lived in perfect harmony, never even a harsh word between us. Even though I was three years his senior, he never held it against me; instead, he showered me with boundless care. Apart from our lifelong lack of children, there were truly no regrets. I offered a faint smile, engaging the Queen Mother in polite conversation. My seat had barely warmed when a palace maid burst in, breathless with urgency. “Your Majesty, something terrible has happened! The Crown Prince is kneeling outside the Grand Throne Room, saying he wishes to… to annul his engagement!” 2 “What?!” The Queen Mother abandoned all pretense of composure, rising sharply from her seat. I raised an eyebrow slightly, a flicker of surprise in my heart. This had never happened in my previous life. Could it be that Ethan had also been reborn? The Queen Mother’s face darkened, and she swiftly led me towards the Grand Throne Room. Outside, Crown Prince Ethan knelt on the stone steps, surrounded by several palace attendants whispering words of comfort. Upon seeing the Queen Mother, Ethan murmured, “Grandmother,” then his gaze swept across my face, dismissively. I was about to curtsy to him, but he abruptly turned his head away, as if he couldn’t bear to see me. In this life, I had only met him once, briefly, from a distance. Returning after three years, he shouldn’t have recognized me. Such an attitude… he had indeed been reborn. Feigning ignorance of his coldness, I performed the customary curtsy. The Queen Mother glared at him, a mixture of anger and disappointment in her eyes. “Ethan, why this sudden talk of annulling your engagement? Has someone been whispering poison in your ear?” A flash of ruthlessness crossed the Queen Mother’s eyes. Ethan’s body trembled, but his voice remained firm. “No one else, Grandmother. This is my own decision.” “Nonsense! You agreed so readily before! If no one has been stirring trouble, how could you possibly think of annulling the engagement? Get up, now! Come with me and apologize to your uncle, the King! Aubrey has returned, perfectly well. Just look at her; what lady in the Capital could compare?” The Queen Mother pulled me forward, presenting me before Ethan. I lowered my head, allowing him to scrutinize me. His cold gaze merely grazed my face before flitting away. “Lady Montgomery is certainly radiant,” he said flatly, “but my heart already belongs to another. I will marry no one else in this life. No matter how exceptional Lady Montgomery may be, in my heart, she doesn’t hold a candle to her!” The Queen Mother’s face paled with fury. She yearned to silence him. “Nonsense! How many noble ladies have you even met, to claim your heart is already taken? I think you’ve lost your mind! The selection of your Princess Consort is for me and the King to decide! You simply return to the Crown Prince’s Residence and prepare for your wedding!” But Ethan, this time, was unexpectedly resolute, kneeling steadfastly, refusing to yield. In the tense standoff, Lord Chamberlain Sullivan emerged from the throne room, conveying the King’s decree: “His Majesty says, if the Crown Prince wishes to kneel, let him kneel there. Let us see how many hours he can endure.” With that, he leaned in, whispering a few words of persuasion to Ethan, urging him to apologize obediently and not displease the King. Ethan remained deaf to his words, continuing to kneel stubbornly, as if truly intending to stay there until the end of time. The Queen Mother’s face was etched with heartache, a flicker of resentment in her eyes. After a moment of thought, I knelt beside Ethan. Seeing this, Ethan turned his face away. “Don’t think that by kneeling here, I will obey the decree and marry you. My heart already belongs to someone else in this life. Your coercion will only make me despise you more.” I shook my head. “I am not here to pressure Your Highness. Rather, I find Your Highness’s words sound. I too wish to ask His Majesty to dissolve our engagement.” 3 His head snapped back, his face a mask of surprise. But I no longer looked at him, addressing the Queen Mother and Lord Chamberlain Sullivan instead. “If His Highness the Crown Prince is unwilling to marry me, then I, too, am unwilling for His Highness to be unhappy. I humbly ask Lord Chamberlain Sullivan to convey to His Majesty that this lady’s fortune is shallow and her fate meager. I beg His Majesty to grant permission for the annulment of our engagement, and to not hold His Highness accountable.” I bowed deeply, my forehead touching the ground. The Queen Mother and Ethan both froze, as if unable to believe I would relinquish the prestigious position of Crown Princess Consort, now within my grasp. Lord Chamberlain Sullivan, though quite surprised, nonetheless entered the throne room to relay my words. A long silence settled over the hall. After a moment, the King bade us enter. I subtly glanced towards the shimmering curtain of pearls. From a distance, the King’s features were indistinct, veiled in shadow, yet his vibrant royal purple robe stood out, deep and rich like an autumn bloom. His voice, clear and cool, yet pleasing to the ear, resonated from behind the curtain. “Lady Aubrey Montgomery, do you truly wish to annul your engagement with the Crown Prince?” I bowed again. “This lady is willing, Your Majesty. I beg your indulgence.” King Arthur remained silent, seemingly weighing his decision. The Queen Mother was frantic. “No! Aubrey risked her life to save Your Majesty! How can you mistreat such a loyal subject?” She shot me a warning glance, urging me to keep silent. But I bowed my head, purposely missing her gaze, and spoke quickly. “Aubrey dares not claim undue credit, Your Majesty. When I shielded you from the assassin, it was out of the same fierce loyalty as my father, not with any intention of clinging to the royal family. If Your Majesty and the Queen Mother truly pity this humble lady, perhaps you might bestow upon me a collection of master scores. Once I have thoroughly studied them, I would then play for Your Majesties the pieces I could not finish that day.” Kneeling there, I subtly brought up the past. It was during the Midsummer Festival celebration, with a grand banquet in the Royal Palace. An assassin, disguised as a dancer, infiltrated the feast, aiming to kill the King. I had been chosen by the Queen Mother to play the lute beside them, and I saw the dancer’s strange expression as she approached. Without thinking, I threw myself forward, blocking the poisoned darts she spat from her mouth. Though King Arthur was unharmed, I was gravely poisoned and sent to a secluded estate on the Southern Coast to recover. The Queen Mother, grateful for my loyal courage, had, upon hearing of my recovery and return to the Capital, specifically petitioned King Arthur for a royal decree to betroth me to the Crown Prince. The decree had already been issued, and I had resigned myself to my fate. Yet, I never expected Ethan to suddenly step forward and refuse. If that was the case, why shouldn’t I grant his wish? Masking the thoughts in my eyes, I quietly awaited King Arthur’s response. Finally, he let out a soft sigh. “The Queen Mother and I arranged this betrothal for you with the intention of compensating you, as your marriage was delayed because of me. Since neither of you desires it, I shall be lenient this once and withdraw this decree. I only hope that neither of you will regret this decision later.” Ethan couldn’t hide the joy that broke across his face. He was the first to speak, “Your Royal Nephew will not regret it!” I gazed at the pearl curtain, my voice just as firm and clear. “This lady will not regret it either. Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness.” 4 The Queen Mother hadn’t anticipated the engagement being dissolved so easily. Her face shifted through several shades, and she spoke to the King with clear displeasure: “Your Majesty, how could you allow them to act so recklessly? The royal decree has already been issued! Is it right to change a royal order so whimsically?” King Arthur replied leisurely, “One is the Crown Prince, the other is the daughter of Duke Montgomery. Why should I make things difficult for them?” The Queen Mother retorted sharply, “But not like this! The Crown Prince is sixteen now; it’s time for him to marry and establish his own household. Are you planning to keep delaying his marriage, Your Majesty?” The words touched on a forbidden subject. Lord Chamberlain Sullivan instantly tensed, and the Queen Mother abruptly fell silent. “I didn’t mean it that way…” Her expression was filled with regret as she anxiously eyed the pearl curtain. King Arthur’s reaction, however, was calm. He set down his vermilion brush. “I understand your concerns, Queen Mother. You are simply worried that I neglect my nephew, that I am not truly looking out for his future, aren’t you?” “I… I’m not…” The Queen Mother’s face blanched, and she wrung her hands. I, too, lowered my head, pretending not to hear the exchange. The current King was not the Crown Prince’s father, but his uncle. The Crown Prince’s biological father, the late King Valerius, had passed away from illness at the age of twenty-six. When he died, Ethan was only four years old, too young to assume the throne. Thus, the crown had passed to his seventeen-year-old brother, Prince Arthur – the current King. King Valerius had entrusted Arthur with raising the young Prince, with the understanding that once Ethan came of age and could rule independently, Arthur would then relinquish the throne, returning it to its rightful heir. Arthur had agreed. But his stepmother, Queen Mother Eleanor, King Valerius’s birth mother, had, under the pretext that Arthur was still unmarried and the royal court lacked a Queen, taken the young Prince, bringing him to her own side to raise personally. It could be said that under the Queen Mother’s interference, Arthur’s affection for Ethan was quite limited. On an everyday basis, they could maintain a facade of familial affection if no one pointed out the truth. But now, the Queen Mother had slipped, accusing him of deliberately neglecting Ethan. If Arthur were to take offense… Cold sweat instantly beaded on the Queen Mother’s forehead. She forced a strained smile. “How could I ever think Your Majesty is not diligent? I merely lament that this child is so unfilial.” She shot Ethan a sharp glare. Ethan understood her unspoken command and willingly apologized. “I have disappointed both my Grandmother and my Uncle.” King Arthur remained noncommittal, merely stating, “Very well. The Queen Mother is simply concerned for you. You have indeed grown, and it is time for you to establish your own family. Speak then. You refuse to marry the Montgomery daughter, claiming your heart belongs to another. Who is this person?” A faint smile touched Ethan’s lips. “Her name is Isabella. She manages The Gilded Butterfly Emporium in the Capital. She is not only beautiful and virtuous, lively and intelligent, but also runs her household with remarkable skill and an unconventional spirit. Though only sixteen, she manages her family’s business with impressive order, earning my profound admiration.” Ethan lavished her with praise, but the Queen Mother instantly pinpointed the crucial detail, a look of disdain on her face. “Merely a merchant’s daughter?” Ethan argued, “Though a merchant’s daughter, her character and appearance are no less than those of a noble lady. Once you meet her, Grandmother, you will see what a captivating person she is, so unlike those stiff and dull ladies of the court!” After his last remark, he cast a quick glance at me. I scoffed internally, remembering how in his previous life, most of the beautiful young women he took into his royal court were from noble families. He certainly hadn’t rejected them. King Arthur pondered for a long while. “A merchant’s background is indeed a little low. Do you insist on her being your Crown Princess Consort?” Ethan didn’t hesitate, bowing his head in supplication. “Yes, Your Majesty. In this life, I wish only to grow old with her.” Seeing his stubbornness, the Queen Mother was almost incandescent with rage. King Arthur, however, seemed indifferent. “Her surname is Dawson? That’s the same as Duke Dawson. Very well then, let Duke Dawson adopt her as his foster daughter. That way, her status as Crown Princess Consort won’t be too unbecoming.” Ethan was overjoyed. “Your Royal Nephew thanks you, Uncle!” With the royal decree issued, there was no turning back this time. The Queen Mother’s face darkened. She deeply felt the Crown Prince’s disregard for her efforts in planning his future, and she left in a huff, utterly fuming. Ethan, however, was lost in the joy of marrying the woman he loved, completely oblivious to any wrongdoing. After all, in his previous life, King Arthur had abdicated, and he had smoothly ascended the throne. Naturally, after rebirth, he felt no sense of impending crisis. I subtly shook my head, a quiet sigh of relief escaping my heart. Not having to marry him truly saved me a lot of trouble. On the way out of the palace, Lord Chamberlain Sullivan personally escorted me. He subtly hinted that I should not repeat what I had heard today, then offered comfort: “Today’s events have certainly caused you distress, Lady. His Majesty asked me to convey a message: should you ever find someone you wish to marry, simply have Duke Montgomery petition the King, and His Majesty will personally arrange the union for you.” A royal betrothal would be far more honorable than an ordinary wedding. My lips curved into a faint smile. I whispered, “His Majesty still remembers my future marriage?” Lord Chamberlain Sullivan chuckled. “Of course. Not only did His Majesty essentially watch you grow up, Lady, but in this matter, the Crown Prince truly acted without proper decorum. During your recovery on the Southern Coast, His Majesty even mentioned you to me, inquiring about your health.” “Is that so…” My heart fluttered, and I unconsciously touched the jeweled bracelet on my wrist. At his words, my heart began to faintly stir once more. If Ethan had been reborn and could be with the person he loved, then why couldn’t I? 5 I thanked Lord Chamberlain Sullivan, then returned to the Montgomery Estate. I omitted the details of the Queen Mother’s argument with the King, telling my father only about the Crown Prince’s annulment. My father was furious. “When the betrothal was first decreed, the Crown Prince swore solemn oaths before His Majesty and me, promising to treat you well in the future. Now, barely two months later, he breaks his word! This act not only disrespects our Montgomery family, but it also disregards your reputation. He truly has no regard for anyone!” A cold glint flashed in my father’s eyes. He told me not to be sad, to stay home, and that he would handle everything. But I had other ideas. “Father, next month is His Majesty’s birthday, isn’t it?” For the King’s birthday celebration, it was customary to hold a banquet in the Imperial Ballroom, inviting ministers, dukes, and royal relatives. I knew he had a deep appreciation for music, so I intended to find a renowned lute as a gift. Coincidentally, the owner of The Muse Gallery in the Capital possessed the famed “Emerald Silk” lute. He had posted a notice outside his establishment, stating that he himself had no musical talent and felt the “Emerald Silk” was wasted in his hands. He decided to gift the lute to someone who truly understood it. And how one proved understanding, naturally, was through a musical competition. On the third day of the seventh month, The Muse Gallery was overflowing. Besides those vying for the “Emerald Silk” lute, many simply came to enjoy the music. My lady-in-waiting and I reserved a private room on the second floor of the gallery. My gaze casually swept over the crowd, and I spotted Ethan, mingling amongst them, accompanied by a charming, lovely young woman. He leaned down, smiling softly at the girl, his eyes brimming with affection. And that girl—she bore a striking resemblance, perhaps six or seven tenths, to Lady Isabella, the most favored of Ethan’s consorts in his previous life. My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a sudden realization dawned on me. So that’s it. Ethan’s fondness for Lady Isabella, even making her son the Crown Prince, had all been a search for this girl’s shadow. If I guessed correctly, this was Isabella. I averted my gaze, but Isabella seemed to sense something, looking up towards the second floor. Ethan looked up. “What are you looking at?” “Nothing, just… are you really confident you can win that ‘Emerald Silk’ lute?” Isabella asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice. Ethan, however, seemed utterly determined. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I will absolutely win this lute. Next month, at my uncle’s birthday celebration, I’ll present it to him in your name. That’s sure to change his opinion of you.” 6 Ethan, brimming with confidence, led Isabella to a private room on the second floor. It was, coincidentally, directly opposite mine. The competition officially began. Each participant had the duration of a tea ceremony to showcase their musical skill. I chose the piece I knew best: “Phoenix Seeks Mate.” This was a classic piece, composed by Lord Symonds for his beloved Lady Wynter, and the very lute he played was none other than the “Emerald Silk.” The piece and the instrument resonated deeply, perfectly suiting today’s competition. Many in the hall shared the same idea, and “Phoenix Seeks Mate” filled the air. I calmed my mind, disregarding outside distractions, focusing my thoughts into my fingertips. The lute’s notes, flowing and clear, like a tranquil stream, spilled over the balcony, instantly eclipsing the sounds of the other competitors. They paused their playing, gazing towards my private room, closing their eyes, seemingly lost in the ethereal melody. “Excellent! Truly excellent! Which gentleman in that private room is playing such a beautiful tune? The ‘Emerald Silk’ today might just be this gentleman’s prize!” Hearing “Phoenix Seeks Mate,” the audience assumed the performer was a gentleman. The buzz of their discussion finally made Ethan, sitting directly opposite, lose his composure. He pulled out his “Phoenix Tail” lute, brought from the palace, and played a fierce, soaring melody. Two vastly different styles of music clashed. Logically, the lyrical piece should have been at a disadvantage. But I had practiced for years, and my heart held unspoken affections. The emotion and technique in my piece reached their peak. Ethan was unaffected at first, but gradually, his performance began to falter. Just as I was about to press my advantage and secure his complete defeat, a familiar melody suddenly drifted from the private room next door—it was “Phoenix Seeks Mate” again. The moment I heard that piece, my fingers hesitated. Ethan, thinking I had made a mistake, redoubled his efforts, playing his lute with even greater fervor. The player next door, observing this, remained unhurried. The lute’s notes, clear and enchanting, unfurled like a true phoenix spiraling into being, its cries echoing, like jade shattering on Kunlun Mountain, like tears on lotus petals, weaving a tale of deep, sorrowful affection that touched the heart. The audience, listening intently, found their eyes welling with tears. The victor of this competition was, without a doubt, clear. Ethan was still struggling, but I had already released my hold. Regardless of whether I could continue playing, I couldn’t compete anymore. Because I had recognized the person in the private room next door. In the fourth year of King Valerius’s reign, my father and Prince Arthur returned from the border. I was scolded by my tutor to my father for playing with lute strings as if they were slingshot elastic. My father was distressed. I wanted to learn riding and archery, not music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. He didn’t know how to convince me and was about to drag me indoors for a lecture when the boy beside him stopped him. The boy said that riding and archery didn’t conflict with music and the arts. He suggested that in my spare time, I could learn martial arts with the family guards to strengthen my body. I stared at his handsome, serene features, unable to look away, and dumbly asked, “Will you learn to play the lute too?” He chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I?” With that, he set down the lute that my tutor had brought and personally played a tune. That piece was “Phoenix Seeks Mate.” Phoenix, oh phoenix, return to your homeland, wandering the four seas, seeking your mate. I was only seven at the time. His playing that piece was merely a whim; it held no deeper meaning. But it was the first time I had ever heard such beautiful music, seen such a handsome young man. From that day on, I never forgot him. Even reborn, I still recognized the player in the next room. It was him. The former Prince Arthur, the current King—Arthur. 7 Why was he here? I ceased playing. Outside, Ethan’s melody had devolved into chaos, and he awkwardly withdrew from the competition. The owner of The Muse Gallery personally delivered the “Emerald Silk” lute to the room next door. I stood at my door, hesitating whether to go offer my congratulations. Just as I decided to feign ignorance, a voice from behind me called out, “Lady, a moment.” I turned. The man cleared his throat lightly and spoke towards the room, “My master requests your presence.” Behind the landscape screen in the private room, a young man in white robes sat on a chair. Hearing my footsteps, he slowly raised his gaze. His features, flawless and handsome, like the crisp light of an autumn moon, clearly etched themselves into my vision. My body trembled. I could barely remember the last time I had seen him this close. My gaze lingered. Though I knew I should bow my head in deference, I couldn’t bear to look away for even a second. Seeing my reaction, the young man showed no anger. He simply curved his lips. “Stunned?” I shook my head, gathered my thoughts, and bowed formally. “Greetings, Your Majesty.” Arthur raised a hand, dismissing my formality. I stood quietly, asking if he had any instructions. Arthur pushed the “Emerald Silk” lute towards me, gesturing for me to take it. “Here.” I froze, not moving for a moment. “This is… something Your Majesty won.” Arthur seemed unconcerned. “It’s fine. You were the one playing in the room next door, weren’t you? Didn’t you want this lute?” I pressed my lips together, answering truthfully. “This lady desired this lute only to present it to Your Majesty on your birthday. Now that it is in Your Majesty’s hands, my wish has already been fulfilled.” “I see.” Arthur paused, shaking his head. “Then I suppose I acted rather unnecessarily. I hadn’t expected you to play so beautifully after three years. I recall you used to fuss and argue with Duke Montgomery, refusing to learn the lute.” A smile played on Arthur’s lips as he reminisced, making me feel a flush of bashfulness. “That was just this lady being foolish in her youth.” I vehemently defended myself, my face turning crimson. Thankfully, Arthur didn’t dwell on the teasing. He simply plucked a few strings, then offered the lute to me. “Take it. Consider it a reward for your progress.” Such a reason left me no room to refuse. As I took the lute, my wide sleeve slipped from my arm, revealing a string of glistening polished stones on my wrist. Arthur noticed them, his gaze pausing. “This is…” Seeing that he seemed to have forgotten, a pang of sadness went through me. I was about to explain, but Arthur spoke softly. “…Is this something I gave you before?” A ripple stirred in my heart, and I nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. This was a gift from you on my tenth birthday. I have worn it every day since.” Arthur fell silent, his gaze complex as he looked at the string of flawless stones. They glowed with the soft warmth of long handling, clearly treasured and worn by their owner for many years. He spoke gently, “You’ve kept all the things I’ve given you?” I paused, then instinctively clutched the lute closer. “Yes. Anything Your Majesty gives me, no matter what it is, is incredibly precious to me.” Hearing this, Arthur let out a soft sigh. He waved a hand, dismissing me. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. I felt that Arthur had sensed something, and I left the private room, my mind distracted. As I was about to return to my room, two figures emerged from the far end of the corridor: Ethan and Isabella. Seeing me there, Ethan froze for a moment. Then he noticed the lute in my arms, and disbelief flooded his face. “So it was you who was competing against me earlier?” I curtsied to him. “Greetings, Your Highness.” Ethan’s brow furrowed deeply, his gaze fixed on the “Emerald Silk” lute in my arms. I understood what he meant, but I had no intention of handing it over. “Does Your Highness have any further business? If not, I shall take my leave.” I brushed past him, clutching the lute, but he suddenly grabbed my arm. “Stop!” I frowned, my voice low. “Your Highness, you’re hurting me.” He realized his grip and instinctively released me. Then, as if it were his rightful due, he said, “This lute is what I chose. I hope Lady Montgomery will transfer it to me. I would be most grateful.” He thought he could just take it with a word, as if he were already King. I scoffed internally, but on my face, I feigned a troubled expression. “I apologize, Your Highness, but this lady is also extremely fond of this lute. I fear I cannot grant your request.” I curtsied again, then moved to leave. But Ethan stepped in front of me, blocking my path, and sneered, “Stop pretending. What do you know about music? In our past life… I never heard you play ‘Phoenix Seeks Mate’ before. That piece just now, you had someone play it for you, didn’t you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392708”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My senior year of high school, I transferred out. I never imagined that soon after, rumors would spread like wildfire among our classmates: I was dead, a victim of leukemia. After I left, the rebellious slacker in the back row, Owen, suddenly fell silent. He shed his defiant image, studying with a ferocity no one had ever seen, eventually gaining admission to a top-tier music conservatory. Nine years later, he was a household name, a chart-topping sensation. On a live talk show, when the topic of relationships came up, a profound melancholy shadowed his face. “She’s gone now.” “If only I’d known, I wouldn’t have wished her to stay eighteen forever.” Masked, camcorder on my shoulder, I panned across his phone’s lock screen. My breath hitched. Wait. Was that… me? 1 Owen King had dominated the charts for seven years, racking up countless awards, the undisputed idol in millions of hearts. After all that time, I was seeing him again. But now, he was the reality show’s star, and I was just the camera op. This was Owen’s first reality show, and his fans were buzzing with anticipation. The moment he stepped into view, the venue erupted. A swarm of paparazzi descended. My colleague nudged me gently. “Owen’s here.” “Saw him.” He strode quickly through the guest channel, head down, pulling his baseball cap lower. Even just his silhouette sent the crowd into a frenzy of screams. I quickly powered on my camcorder, capturing his entrance. Damn, he’s still got it. Good for a quick buck from the fans. “Hey, I heard Owen graduated from Riverside High. You’re alumni, right? Do you know him?” my colleague suddenly asked. I paused. A memory flickered to life, sharp and vivid. Another twilight, so many years ago. Back then, I was still Lily Lin. Inside The Rack ‘n’ Roll, tears silently tracked down my face as I clutched my homework. “Owen, please, no more fighting. Can you just finish your assignments first?” Blood streamed from the back of Owen’s hand, his patience clearly razor-thin. “Lily, you are seriously annoying. Can’t you understand a damn word? Get lost.” … My mind snapped back to reality. I smiled, shaking my head. “He’s a huge star. How could I possibly know him?” Once artists hit it big, they usually cut ties with their old friends to avoid trouble. Owen’s reputation in high school wasn’t great. He’d definitely want nothing to do with former classmates. Especially since he used to despise me. I’d just shoot more footage of him, sell it, and move on. No need to bother him. 2 The show was an hour from starting. I sat in a corner, checking my equipment, when a voice suddenly echoed above me. “Lily?” I froze, looking up. It was Hazel. She was one of the guests on this episode, and also my college classmate. She’d been jobless last year, practically begging me for help. Our studio needed a production assistant then, so I pulled some strings to get her in. Who knew that during one shoot, she’d accidentally wander into a shot, and with her sweet looks and voice, become an overnight sensation? We hadn’t spoken since. I offered a faint smile. “What a coincidence.” She blinked, feigning surprise. “Lily, it is you! Still lugging that camera around? I thought you’d be running the show by now!” She went on, a flicker of feigned regret crossing her face. “Things really do happen for a reason, don’t they? If it had been you caught on camera back then, maybe you’d be the star. But, you know…” Her tone shifted, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “It’s fate, really. I begged you for a job back then, and you deliberately messed with me, stuck me with all the grunt work, the hardest, dirtiest jobs. Even the universe saw how unfair that was, and that’s why I blew up overnight. Lily, this is your karma.” I stayed silent, with nothing to say. She’d broken equipment at her old company and been fired, then she’d called me sobbing daily, saying she couldn’t afford food, pleading for a job, swearing she’d do anything for money. I felt for her, pulled every string I had to get her into the studio. And she thinks I was messing with her. What else could I say? Someone was approaching from not far away. 3 “Hazel!” I turned. It was Mark, my ex-boyfriend, who’d been our classmate, too. After Hazel blew up, Mark dumped me and ran off to be her assistant manager. Seeing me, he stopped short. “Lily Lin?” Hazel took the coffee from his hand. “Mark, you got it already?” “Yeah, had to hit a few blocks, but finally found it.” “You’re the best.” Hazel grinned, then turned her mocking gaze on me. “You used to complain Mark never cared for you, always so distant. What gives? He’s been so thoughtful with me.” “Oh.” Had she finished? I looked at her, slowly. “Anything else you wanted to say, Ms. Hazel? Because everything you just said? I recorded it all.” Hazel froze. “What did you say?” Her whole brand was the ‘sweet, ditzy darling,’ with a fanbase full of ‘dream boys.’ If this video got out, she was toast. “Lily Lin, delete that video!” She snapped, lunging to grab my camcorder. I clutched it tight, refusing to let go. “Ms. Hazel, this is a friend’s camcorder. I’m not sure how to delete anything.” “Don’t play dumb with me! Delete it now, or you’re gonna regret it!” She yanked desperately. Mark, seeing things escalate, rushed over to break it up. The commotion was loud enough to draw the entire crew. Our producer rushed over, demanding to know what was going on. My eyes welled up, feigning distress. “Ms. Hazel insists I filmed her and wants me to delete it, but I truly didn’t!” Hazel’s eyes widened. “Stop acting! Hand over the camcorder! Or I’ll sue you for violating my publicity rights!” The producer quickly tried to calm her, then took my camcorder and powered it on. Hazel stared in disbelief, scrolling through, searching. How could she find anything? I hadn’t even turned it on. Hazel was about to say something else. Mark, seeing the momentum turning against her, quickly pulled her away. “It’s just a misunderstanding, folks. Ms. Hazel was just worried about her look getting leaked, didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” He hurried Hazel away. I looked at the producer apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why she’s so sensitive. I just touched the camcorder, and she started claiming I filmed her.” “I know, I know.” The producer waved a dismissive hand. “These minor celebrities are the worst. Big egos, no talent. Someone else will put her in her place soon enough. Everyone, back to your positions. Half an hour until we start.” I nodded, pulling out my mask and putting it on. I never liked my face on camera, so I always wore it on set. Just as I finished, a shout came from behind me. “Lily Lin!” I turned, seeing a production assistant, and… Owen. 4 “Owen’s regular camera op had a last-minute emergency. You’re filling in.” I stared at Owen. He wore a simple hoodie, his expression distant. As the wind stirred his bangs, the eighteen-year-old boy from my memories seemed to suddenly resurface. Why are you called Lily Lin and not, like, Big Lily? What’s up with the old man? This one-on-one tutoring? Your grades are worse than mine, who’s helping who? You’re seriously annoying. What I do or don’t learn is none of your business, is it? I’m going to sleep. Don’t wake me up for class later. LILY! … I snapped back to reality, nodding. “Got it.” I swung the camcorder onto my shoulder and hurried over. Owen paused, then extended a hand, polite and formal. “Ms. Lin, hello.” I reached out, shaking his hand. “Hello.” Our skin met. That long, elegant hand instantly became slick with moisture. Owen flinched, his hand trembling slightly, his gaze suddenly locking onto my eyes. Surprise and bewilderment swirled within them. 5 My heart gave a quiet lurch. Why… why was he looking at me like that? “Owen?” His grip was too tight. I had to speak up. He blinked, coming back to himself, then released my hand, offering an apologetic smile. “My bad. Been a little exhausted lately, got lost in thought.” So that was it. Big celebrities, jet-setting for appearances, it’s bound to be tiring. He finished, then looked at the production assistant. “Shall we go?” After his solo interview, the show began. It was a live broadcast: eight celebrity guests would draw lots to determine their roles, then hunt for a secret treasure hidden within the school. The winning team’s prize would be used to fund an adult school for individuals with autism. The moment Owen appeared, the bullet comments exploded. 【LOL Owen’s so awkward!】 【Owen never does reality shows, only charity events like this could tempt him.】 【Owen is seriously the best! He donates to leukemia patients every year since his debut and even writes songs for them. That’s an idol!】 【Isn’t it because his first love died of leukemia? This show must be for her, too. So devoted, ugh, I just want to hug him.】 【Wait, for real? Who was Owen’s first love?】 【I think a high school classmate? He mentioned it when he first debuted on his social media, but his posts are only visible for the last six months now, so you can’t see it anymore.】 In the control room, I watched the small monitor beside me, my mind drifting. His first love… a high school classmate? Died of leukemia? I racked my brain, but no one fit the description. Though, I had transferred out in my senior year. What happened after that, I wouldn’t know. Maybe he met someone special then. I looked at Owen, a hollow ache settling in my chest. In high school, he’d been cold and dismissive, caring for no one. I’d always thought no one could ever truly reach him. Turns out, someone could. But… I shook my head, a small, wry smile on my lips. I found myself curious about her. The kind of person who could tame Owen’s wild side, who he’d remember for so long, she had to be truly special. After the guest introductions, the host warmed up the audience, and the drawing of lots began. Hazel got lucky, drawing the ‘Honor Student’ card. Her privileges were high; she could access most of the school freely. Owen, though, pulled the ‘Slacker’ card, the lowest privilege. He’d have to complete a task before entering any area. Owen stared at the card in his hand, a wry, almost exasperated laugh escaping him. Back in high school, he was infamous for being either last or second-to-last in grades. This draw was pretty accurate. Good thing the competition was held at Riverside High. At least he had home-field advantage. During the Q&A, the host asked about everyone’s most unique high school memories. Hazel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a bittersweet smile on her face. “My high school memories aren’t great. Probably because of my looks, the other girls weren’t very friendly, so I never really had many friends. Then in college, I finally made one good friend, someone I trusted completely, but then at my lowest point, she really kicked me while I was down… Anyway, it’s all in the past now. I’ve forgiven her.” 【Ugh, I’m fuming! Hazel’s so cute, how could anyone bully her? Are those people insane?】 【I get it, I totally get it! I’m also pretty good-looking, and I could tell the girls in my class just didn’t like me. Seriously, it’s not my fault I’m pretty.】 【Hazel’s so pure! She actually forgave them, but if it were me, I’d never let anyone who backstabbed me off the hook!】 Watching from off-camera, I had to admit, I was almost impressed. Turning black into white, and doing it so vaguely, never naming names, impossible to verify – if that wasn’t a talent, what was? “Enough about me. What about you, Owen? Your school days must have been much more interesting, right?” Having achieved her goal, she wisely decided to quit while she was ahead, smoothly linking herself to Owen. Everyone collectively turned to Owen. His gaze swept over my location. A faint smile touched his lips. “That was ages ago. Can’t quite remember.” For a split second, I felt a strange disorientation. I couldn’t tell if his gaze was for the camera, or for me. 6 Half an hour later, the show cut to commercials. Everyone boarded vans headed for Riverside High. Before we got in, Mark found me. “Lily.” He seemed awkward. I didn’t bother looking at him. “Something you need? I’m busy.” The air hung heavy for a beat. He looked at me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “Have you… been okay this past year?” “What’s wrong? Afraid I’m doing too well, posing a threat to you two?” “How could you think that?” He quickly explained, his gaze filled with remorse. “What happened back then, I messed up, I really did. But I was so sick of those endless, dead-end days. I hope you can understand. I have some connections now, if you’re looking for a new job, I can help. At least you won’t have to work so hard.” I paused. He regretted it? Ran off with Hazel for money, and now that he knows she’s high-maintenance, he suddenly remembers me. I straightened up, looking at the small mole on his nose. It used to make him seem so handsome, I’d loved it almost to the point of obsession. Now… the more I looked, the more it sickened me. “No thanks. Scumbags don’t have good intentions, and even if they did, I wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole.” He stiffened. He was about to speak again when a car pulled up beside us. Hazel swung the door open, her face cold, calling him over like a pet. “Mark, my feet are killing me. Come rub them.” Mark hesitated for a fraction of a second, then hurried over to her. “Coming, babe.” Hazel glanced at me. “What were you two talking about?” “Nothing much. Just warned her to behave.” “Oh, really? I thought she was trying to get back with you. You know, I still remember her crying, begging you not to leave her. Ugh, what’s the difference between her and a stray dog?” Mark flinched, then chuckled. “No, even if she wanted to, I’d never agree. She’s not even worth a strand of your hair.” “That’s more like it.” Hazel’s expression was smug. “Don’t you think she hates me now? I’m on a major reality show, and her? Nothing. She couldn’t even hold onto the man she loved.” … I didn’t hear what else they said, focusing on gathering my gear. Until someone beeped at me. “Lily, let’s go.” I murmured a reply, clutching my gear, and climbed in. Only then did I realize Owen was already inside, texting someone. Why was he in this car? My heart pounded, but I dared not ask, pretending not to see him, quietly settling into the back seat. Suddenly, my phone blared. It was Owen’s signature hit: The Sound of Falling Rain. “This rain stops here, emotions linger, what you leave behind, a long, lingering dampness…” Every head in the car swiveled. I fumbled frantically to silence it, but it was too late. Owen’s head shot up. Through the rearview mirror, his gaze locked with mine. “My bad,” I said, an awkward laugh escaping me. “Just heard it on the charts yesterday, thought it was catchy, decided to use it as my ringtone.” He paused. “But that’s from this year’s concert.” Right… I forgot. It was the live concert version. The audio quality was terrible, background noise and all. “Have you seen my concert, Ms. Lin?” he asked. Memories crashed over me like waves. But how could I admit it? It was my deepest, most guarded secret. Even after all these years, deliberately avoiding any news of him, I couldn’t resist. I’d gone to his seven-year anniversary concert. Sat in the very last row, tears streaming down my face for his success. “No,” I said. “Must’ve been uploaded by a fan online, I guess? I’m not really tech-savvy.” “Is that so?” He didn’t break eye contact. He just calmly studied my reflection in the mirror, his thoughts unreadable. A moment stretched between us. “Ms. Lin, aren’t you hot?” “Excuse me?” “Wearing a mask all the time, aren’t you hot?” he asked, his voice casual, like simple concern. I wiped sweat from my forehead. “No, I’m fine. I… have a cold, don’t want to spread it.” “…I see.” My phone grew hot in my grip. Message alerts buzzed one after another. He glanced at them, replying calmly, yet unable to control the tremor in his fingertips. I lowered my eyes, quickly changing my ringtone. Once done, I snuck a glance at the front. Seeing him preoccupied with his messages, I let out a silent breath of relief. Close call. Almost blew it. 7 The car started moving. In the gentle sway, I drifted into a short dream. I was back in that classroom, last row again. Our homeroom teacher had set up a tutoring group, one-on-one. And I, second to last, was assigned to tutor Owen, who was dead last. Back then, Owen was the resident rebel, avoided by everyone. His days were split between sleeping and stirring up trouble. As the group leader, I’d tried every trick in the book to whip him into shape, but he only ever made me cry with frustration. A month later, midterm results were out. He was second to last. I was dead last. I cried so hard that day. Owen was sick of me. Just to get some peace, he ditched class with me and took me for some street food. “Just eat, relax. You’re dead last, nowhere to go but up, right?” “Me? I don’t care. Learning or not, it’s all the same. My old man only cares about his other kid anyway.” “Alright, drop it. Music conservatory? That old guitar? I haven’t touched it in ages!” “La la la, I can’t hear you!” “LILY! What I learn or don’t learn is none of your business! I regret buying you that food, now spit it out—” … Owen always asked why I was so set on him studying. He’d never know. How, long ago, I’d seen another side of him. Brilliant, playing his own songs, full of youthful vigor and fire. I wanted that Owen to wake up. What a shame, what a waste. 8 Ten minutes later, the car pulled up to our destination. I’d slept the entire ride, oblivious to Owen watching me the whole way. The live broadcast resumed. Everyone else entered the school through the main gates. Except Owen. As the ‘Slacker,’ even entering the school required a challenge. Solve a riddle, or do fifty push-ups. Pick one. The comments section collectively melted for Owen. 【Go for the riddle, push-ups will drain too much energy for the rest of the game. But riddles take forever! Owen’s fit, he should just do the push-ups!】 The camera zoomed in on Owen. It seemed like a crucial decision. But Owen… chose neither. He surveyed his surroundings, then scaled the school’s side wall. “Slackers gotta find slacker ways, right?” On camera, he sat perched on the wall, wild and unbridled, just like he’d been all those years ago. He looked at me, his eyes flashing. “Give me your hand,” he said. As his camera op, I felt I had no choice. The moment our hands clasped tightly… “Ms. Lin, you remind me of someone.” I looked up, confused. “What?” He looked at me, a gentle, old breeze sweeping through his eyes. “Nothing. Just a feeling that today might be very lucky.” ? What was he on about? My body felt weightless. He’d pulled me up beside him. The directors were stumped. It took a while for the security guard NPCs to catch up. We jumped down, ducking into the janitor’s closet, waiting in the cramped space for what felt like an eternity. The NPCs finally wandered off. I let out a soft sigh of relief. I turned my head and found Owen staring at me, as if deep in thought. In the dim light, we were so close I could almost hear the frantic beating of our own hearts. I swallowed. “…Owen? Is something wrong?” He offered a quiet smile, then reached out. From the cabinet above my head, he plucked the hidden treasure. “See, Ms. Lin? I told you today would be lucky.” The bullet comments went wild. 【OMG, HELP, why is this so flirty?!】 【Dying laughing, Owen’s a newbie to reality TV, has no idea he’s practically flirting with the camera op!】 【I’m low-key shipping them now, is that wrong?】

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I am Rowan, Oracle of the Verdant Clan. The Exiled Prince, Reed, spent three years banished to the Verdant Wilds. That I claimed him, bending his will to mine, became the greatest stain on his honor. Years later, he seized the throne, then personally led his armies to conquer the Verdant Clan. The day he burst into my chambers, the Blight within me flared, a torment worse than death. His fingers clamped around my throat, his voice a ragged growl. “Back then, you cruelly toyed with me, then cast me aside. Do you regret it now?” Fighting the agonizing gnawing of the blight-worms in my heart, I managed a brittle laugh. “Reed, you are the Emperor now, master of all lands. Could you perhaps find me a root of ancient ginseng?” “Still unrepentant!” He dragged me back to Crownsgate, subjecting me to endless torment. But he never knew that, all those years ago, when he lay dying from the poison… …it was I who invoked the Soul-Link Parasite, drawing the venom from his veins into my own. Now, I was dying. 1 I woke in the dank darkness of the dungeon, the first thing I saw a gnarled root of ancient ginseng beside me. A jolt went through me, my heart a tangled knot of emotions. My trembling hand reached for it, but then a heavy boot slammed down, pinning my wrist to the cold stone. Reed stood cloaked in shadow, his gaze as bleak as winter. “Rowan, when you shamed me, did you ever imagine this would be your end?” I looked at Reed, a thousand thoughts swirling, but the words that spilled from my lips were a desperate plea. “Reed, I need so many ancient herbs. Will you… will you help me again?” The words hung in the air, and a spark of fury ignited in Reed’s glacial eyes. He ground his boot down on my wrist, a cruel twist. “Three years, and that’s all you can say to me? Do you truly believe I am still the broken prince you once commanded so carelessly?” Agony, sharp and splintering, shot up my arm, draining my face of what little color remained. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me. “You are Emperor now. If I didn’t speak like this, your Empress might misunderstand, might think I still harbored lingering affections for you.” At my words, Reed’s movement faltered, his expression twisting into something ugly, discomfited. Everyone knew he and Empress Isolde shared a love profound and enduring, a bond forged in shared struggle. The next moment, he crushed the ancient ginseng beneath his heel, pulverizing it. “Rowan, you dare presume!” He seemed poised to do more, but Isolde, who had been waiting outside the cell, gently grasped his arm. Isolde stood tall, her tone dripping with mock pity. “The esteemed Oracle of the Verdant Clan, now a common prisoner. How utterly pathetic. But had you not been so blind, had you not tormented Reed so relentlessly back then, you wouldn’t be in this wretched state! Were it not for Reed’s and my wedding today, a day for no bloodshed, I would have had you torn apart a thousand times over.” Only then did I notice. Reed and Isolde were clad in robes of vibrant, blinding crimson, the color of celebration. I bit my lip, silent, as memories, sharp and painful, flickered through my mind. Six years ago, Reed, the disgraced prince, was banished to the Verdant Wilds. It was then that I, Rowan, found myself captivated by him at first sight. I pursued him relentlessly, and we fell into a love that consumed us. Reed and I, all we truly wanted was to be a simple couple, to live out our days in quiet peace. But alas, Reed’s status as a disgraced prince made him a target. Assassins, wave after wave, hunted him without end. During one such attack, Reed was struck down by a potent poison, one with no known cure. The only hope lay in the Soul-Link Parasite – a forbidden ancient ritual to transfer the venom from his body, a life for a life. … The blight-worms gnawed at my very flesh, my heart a raw, aching wound. I snapped back to the present, watching Reed lean down to press a tender kiss to Isolde’s forehead, his eyes overflowing with affection. “Had she not betrayed me so cruelly, I would never have found you,” he murmured. “To have a wife like you, what more could a man ask for? The auspicious hour is upon us. Let us not be delayed by her.” The ceaseless ache in my heart tightened its grip, stealing my breath. I turned my face away, unable to watch. But Isolde’s gaze lingered on me, a chilling smirk playing on her lips. “Reed,” she purred, “wasn’t she your former wife? For our wedding, why don’t we invite her to add… a touch of entertainment?” … Reed hesitated for only a breath, then nodded. At his command, guards seized me, dragging me roughly toward the grand hall. Crimson silks draped every surface, and the air throbbed with the rhythmic beat of drums and gongs. Reed and Isolde stood side by side, bowing in their wedding rites, as the assembled courtiers offered their congratulations. My eyes, betraying me, stung with unshed tears. Reed and I, too, had once exchanged vows. In the Verdant Clan, it is the women who lead the lineage. As Oracle, I was destined to take a husband, never to be given away. The world whispered that I had forcibly claimed Reed as my husband, merely to humiliate him. They never knew it was his own choice. He had said that if it meant being with me, he would willingly become a pledge-husband, bound to my clan. And besides, he was then a mere commoner, stripped of all ambition, seeking only to grow old by my side… All those memories, now they felt like a fleeting dream, a mirage shimmering in the heat. Isolde’s voice, laced with malicious intent, drifted down to me from the dais. “I’ve heard tales that the Oracle’s blood can repel all blight-creatures. Is it true? Reed, I should like to see it for myself.” Reed was silent for a long moment, then uttered a single, chilling word: “Good.” At his assent, a terrifying cold seeped into my very bones. The next instant, I was seized and flung into a massive wooden vat, teeming with all manner of venomous creatures. A writhing tide of blight-worms surged towards me, their mandibles tearing at my skin. I writhed on the floor of the vat, screaming in agony. My blood flowed freely, and wherever it touched the blight-worms, they shriveled and died. But even so, a relentless flood of creatures continued to swarm, gnawing at my flesh. They were ravenous, a hunger driven to madness. I bit down hard on my lip, yet fractured, desperate wails still tore from my throat. Reed rose abruptly, his face a mask of terrible darkness. “Enough!” Tears streamed down my face, and then, mercifully, the pain consumed me, dragging me into unconsciousness. Memories flashed through my mind like a frantic, spinning kaleidoscope. Six years ago, Reed lay on the brink of death, consumed by poison. I invoked the Soul-Link Parasite, allowing the blight-worms to draw the venom from his body into mine. Though I used the clan’s ancient magic to suppress the Blight within me, clinging to life, I couldn’t halt its inexorable spread through my very being. My fate was sealed; death was a certainty. Yet I knew Reed loved me to his core. If I perished, he would surely follow, sacrificing himself in grief. So I used every cruel trick I knew, shattering his heart. I even entwined myself intimately with another man, right before his eyes. I told him he was a mere commoner, his lineage too lowly to ever be worthy of the Oracle of the Verdant Clan. I declared I was bored with him, that I wished only to sever all ties. To this day, that scene remains burned into my memory: Reed, who even after being stripped of his princely title and exiled to the frontiers, had never once bowed his head to another… knelt before me for the first time, pleading with me not to leave him. The day I banished him from the Verdant Wilds, the Blight within me flared, a torment so excruciating it felt like death itself. The Blight in my body would surge every seven days. If he had remained by my side, I could never have hidden it from him. Thankfully, he was gone. I lingered in the simple wooden cabin we had once shared, clinging to a thread of life for three long years. I heard he had reconnected with his former allies, returning to Crownsgate. I heard he had found a deep affection with Isolde, the General’s daughter, swearing eternal vows to her. I heard he had seized the throne, crowned Emperor. All the while, my body grew weaker, so frail I struggled to walk even a short distance. I never imagined Reed and I would meet again. The moment my eyes fell upon him, I understood: these three years of painful struggle had been for this last glimpse of him. He didn’t know the Blight had long since permeated my very bones, my flesh, which was why the blight-worms died the instant they touched me. Now, I was truly dying. … When I next opened my eyes, I found myself lying in the cold, desolate chambers of the neglected wing. A palace maid roughly smeared salve on my wounds, her tone laced with undisguised disgust. “It’s ill-omened to shed blood on a wedding day,” she spat. “That’s the only reason His Majesty spared your wretched life. Now that the Emperor and Empress are celebrating their new union, your death will come the moment he deigns to remember you.” A bitter smile touched my lips. I could only hope my failing body would last until Reed came to see me again. In the days that followed, the maidservants deliberately tormented me. My wounds, far from healing, festered and worsened. The maid made no secret of it. “The Empress said,” she announced, “just keep a breath in her. Nothing more. After all, His Majesty wishes to deal with you himself.” A sudden, sharp pang shot through my heart. So Reed truly hated me that much, wished to kill me with his own hands. Perhaps it was for the best. To die by Reed’s hand would surely be less torment than succumbing to the Blight’s relentless agony. But I never saw Reed. Instead, I saw someone who should never have been there: Rhys, the Sacred Son of the Verdant Clan. The day Reed marched his armies against the Verdant Clan, I had ordered Rhys to lead our people deep into the Shrouded Mire, a part of the Verdant Wilds. The Mire was cloaked in venomous miasma, teeming with monstrous creatures, a place armies dared not tread lightly. And I, alone, had remained to face the empty city. Reed had come for me. As long as I was here, he wouldn’t relentlessly pursue my people. Rhys saw my battered form, his eyes burning crimson with anguish. “Why didn’t you tell him, all those years ago, that it was you—” I cut him off. “What’s done is done. What meaning is there in speaking of it now? When I decided to conceal the truth from him then, I never intended for him to learn it.” Rhys looked at me, his gaze brimming with pain, his voice raw. “Rowan, I’ll take you away.” I shook my head. “There’s no need. Go, quickly. Don’t let a dying woman drag you down.” Rhys’s eyes trembled violently. “There’s still hope! I will find a way to save you!” Ignoring my protests, he swept me into his arms. Suddenly, the heavy doors of the desolate wing crashed open. Reed stood there, his face carved from ice, his eyes radiating a glacial chill that cut to the bone. Isolde’s voice was dripping with scorn and venom. “What a truly devoted pair you are, risking your very lives to rescue your beloved. Presumably, in the Oracle’s heart, the Sacred Son is her one true love. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have abandoned Reed for him three years ago.” Her words seemed to ignite a fresh spark in Reed, reminding him of my supposed abandonment for another man. Reed’s jaw clenched, his voice a tight, grinding rasp. “Rowan, you are just as you were three years ago! The humiliation you both inflicted upon me then, I will never forget. Guards! Seize this treacherous pair! I will have them torn apart, piece by piece!” The guards drew their blades, surging forward in a rush. With my last ounce of strength, I pushed Rhys away. “Go quickly, don’t mind me!” “Rowan, I won’t leave you!” Before he could finish, the guards swarmed him, dragging him down. Meanwhile, Reed’s hand closed like a vice around my throat. His voice, chilling as frost, whispered against my ear. “What do you take Crownsgate for? A place you can waltz in and out of as you please?” I gave a bitter laugh. “What is between you and me has nothing to do with him. Will you let him go?” The next instant, the hand at my throat tightened, veins bulging, and the suffocating darkness began to swallow me, inch by agonizing inch. Reed’s eyes blazed crimson as he hissed. “You show kindness to everyone else, so why do you reserve all your cruelty for me?” … I had no strength left to struggle, so I simply closed my eyes, the agony overwhelming. The next moment, Reed flung me violently to the ground. My already fragile body, unable to bear the impact, spasmed, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Rhys struggled furiously, but Reed’s boot pressed down hard, pinning him. Isolde stepped forward, feigning a look of pity. “Reed, it seems they are indeed two hearts deeply intertwined. Since that is the case, why don’t we fulfill their desire and let them die together?” At her words, Reed seemed to grow even more enraged. The blade in his hand hovered dangerously at my throat as he sneered. “Between you and him, only one can live. Which one will it be?” My heart felt like ash, and I closed my eyes, resigned. I was a dying woman. Why should another innocent life be sacrificed? The blade at my throat trembled violently, tracing a thin line of blood. I flinched at the sting, my brows furrowing, and opened my eyes. Reed’s face was etched with an unyielding coldness. “How could I ever let you die so easily? I will make you suffer a hundred, a thousand times more than I ever did!” With those words, his fury seeming to boil over, he landed a brutal kick to my stomach. I clutched my stomach, my face ashen with pain. But the next instant, a sudden, searing agony erupted in my chest, and my face contorted in a silent scream. The Blight had flared, prematurely. Once it began, it would rage for three hours, a torment worse than death. I writhed on the ground, desperate to clamp my teeth together, but my agonizing wails erupted, each one louder than the last. Tears spilled unchecked from my eyes, like a broken string of pearls, and blood gushed from my mouth, mouthful after mouthful. Reed froze, rigid. Rhys’s face paled instantly. “It’s the Blight in her! Reed, I beg you, save her! Don’t you understand—” Tears stinging my eyes, I shook my head, a silent plea to Rhys. Rhys’s lips trembled, unable to form words. Isolde gave a subtle signal, and a guard clamped a hand over Rhys’s mouth. She took Reed’s hand, her voice laced with mockery. “She’s the Oracle of the Verdant Wilds! What blight-poison in this world could she not master?” At her words, the anger and hesitation in Reed’s eyes solidified into cold resolve. “Rowan, do you think this little performance will make me release you? You dared to deceive me. Now you’ll taste the price of that deception.” At his command, the guards surrounded me, raining down punches and kicks. The blows rained down, but they were a distant ache compared to the soul-shattering torment of the Blight. My breaths grew shallow, my cries of agony fading to mere whimpers. For three long years, I had endured the bitter agony of the Blight. Now, finally, release was at hand. Reed’s gaze trembled, and a raw, anguished shout tore from his throat. “Enough!” He turned his back, unable to watch any longer. “Isolde, let’s go. This farce you wanted me to see, there’s nothing left to it.” He gently took Isolde’s hand, and they walked away. Rhys, unable to bear it, bit down hard on the guard’s hand. The guard yelped in pain and let go. Rhys’s voice, ripped from his very soul, bellowed. “Reed! When you were dying from poison all those years ago, Rowan used the Soul-Link Parasite to save your life! A life for a life! She’s dying, do you understand?!” …

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1 When the son of her ‘white moonlight’—Ethan—was kidnapped, he collapsed before me, his forehead striking the floor until blood ran red. “Leo is just a child. If you want to kill someone, take me instead.” I instinctively shielded my wife’s swollen eight-month belly, utterly baffled by his words. But Olivia’s face darkened. “I’ve been too lenient with you, haven’t I? How could you do something like this?” Olivia, who had always doted on me, now gripped my throat with bruising force. As my vision blurred, a chilling realization dawned: they believed I had hired the kidnappers for Leo. Because the ransom wasn’t delivered on time, the kidnappers mercilessly executed Leo. Ethan clutched Leo’s broken body, teetering on the edge of suicide. Olivia, her eyes raw and red, brought in the top experts in bioengineering. After a sleepless month of frantic work, they finally secured Leo’s cloned cells. But Ethan’s wife had died years ago. After a moment’s contemplation, Olivia’s gaze fell upon my eight-month pregnant wife—the one carrying my child. I shook my head in horror, kneeling and clutching Olivia’s belly. “Olivia, I sympathize with Ethan’s suffering, but I swear I had nothing to do with Leo’s kidnapping. You can’t do this to me!” “Alex, Ethan’s wife passed away years ago. Leo was his only hope for survival. Even if you were jealous, you had no right to harm his child.” “This is what you owe Leo.” She completely ignored my desperate pleas, brutally forcing the premature delivery of our child. Our little Noah was full-term; he cried when they pulled him out, but they smothered him, silencing his cries forever. I never even saw the face of the child we had conceived in hope and love before Olivia turned and walked back into the operating room. Having just lost our own flesh and blood, my wife was now preparing to carry the bloodline of my supposed enemy. I stormed into the operating room, sweeping every instrument from the trays, desperate to stop them from performing the implantation surgery on Olivia. Olivia’s gaze turned to ice. “Alex, if you continue this tantrum, don’t blame me for what comes next!” Seeing that I wouldn’t leave, Olivia ordered them to immediately perform a vasectomy on me. I struggled with all my might, fighting to stay awake even as they injected me with an excessive dose of anesthetic. My resistance prolonged the procedure, and with Leo’s precious cells on the verge of dying, Olivia walked back in, carrying the tiny body of our child. Watching Noah, his eyes tightly closed as if asleep, my heart bled tears. Olivia’s hand clamped around Noah’s neck. “Comply now. If Leo’s cells die and the surgery fails because of you, your child won’t get a proper burial either.” “Olivia! That’s your flesh and blood too!” I screamed, my voice tearing, but my body grew heavier, more sluggish. “You’re a father yourself. How could you be so cruel to Leo?” Olivia looked at me with a pained, reproachful gaze. It wasn’t me. But no one believed me. My body slowly lost the strength to fight the anesthetic. Consumed by grief and injustice, I closed my eyes. When I woke again, my hands and feet were secured tightly to the hospital bed. The two fresh wounds on my lower abdomen confirmed it: not only had Noah truly left me, but I had also been stripped of my right to be a father forever. And in my wife’s womb, the bloodline of my supposed enemy now thrived. I lost the will to live, biting down hard on my tongue. Olivia pushed open the door. Seeing the pristine white sheets stained crimson with the blood gushing from my mouth, she rushed forward, pinching my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. I clenched my jaw, letting out a hollow, desperate laugh as I stared at her. Her eyes burned crimson. She summoned every doctor in the hospital again. I thought she was worried about me, but after the frantic rescue, she slapped me hard across the face. “I’m warning you, you won’t commit suicide to escape punishment until Leo is safely born.” 2 She looked down at me. I stared at the canine tooth that had been knocked out and lay on the floor, my heart a barren wasteland. To prevent another suicide attempt, she ordered them to fit me with a bite guard. I had lost a portion of my tongue and could no longer speak clearly, though it made little difference. No one listened to me anyway. Once my tongue had fully healed, I was no longer restricted to a liquid diet. Olivia personally brought in a bowl of broth. She sat silently beside me, gently removing the bite guard with soft, careful movements, just as I had once cared for her when she was pregnant. “Alex, making your son give up his place for Leo was your punishment. As long as Leo is born healthy, Ethan won’t pursue this any further.” She chattered on, but I offered no response. “I forced the delivery of our child to teach you a lesson. Life isn’t a game. If you admit your mistake, we can try for another baby.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I twisted my head to look at her, but my gaze froze on the contents of the bowl. There, unmistakably, was our baby’s placenta, prepared as a grotesque ‘tonic.’ I gagged, a wretched sound, and vomited. Olivia meticulously wiped the filth from the corners of my mouth with a wet wipe. The next moment, she clamped my jaw shut and forced a spoonful of the sickening mass down my throat. “Alex, this is highly nutritious. You’ve just had surgery; it will help your body recover.” I wanted to struggle, but my hands, feet, and head were all restrained. I could only endure as the boiled, mangled substance slid down my throat. Seeing that I had swallowed it all, Olivia released her grip. “Ethan’s mental state is still fragile. I’m taking him abroad to clear his head. During this time, you’re to stay home, diligently praying and meditating for Leo, and don’t cause any more trouble.” “If you behave, I’ll find a good resting place for Noah. But if Leo complains to Ethan in a dream that you haven’t prayed enough, you won’t get Noah’s complete ashes back.” “Wasn’t Noah your child too?” I managed to ask, the salty tears streaming down my face, more bitter than any sorrow in my heart. Her footsteps paused, but she didn’t turn back. “With a father like you, he would have been a curse even if he had lived.” The door closed. The last ember of feeling I held for Olivia extinguished then. Her departure lasted nine long months. During those nine months, I spent every day praying and meditating for Leo, fasting and becoming a shadow of a man. He seemed to sense my hatred. With every word I uttered, my head throbbed as if caught in an iron vise. Migraines relentlessly pounded through me every single day for nine months. I rapidly withered, my body gaunt, my eyes bulging, eerily prominent. Olivia called daily, not to check on me, but to supervise my unwavering devotion to Leo’s spiritual journey. Ethan even leaned into the phone, pressing his ear to Olivia’s swollen belly, talking to Leo from across the video call. To ensure I couldn’t escape my duty, my hands and feet were shackled to Leo’s makeshift memorial for nine months. The wounds from my struggles had long since fused with the shackles, but no one cared, as long as the candles and incense for Leo’s memorial never dwindled. In the month leading up to the delivery, Olivia and Ethan finally returned from abroad, their reluctance palpable. “Why are you so thin?” That was the first thing Olivia said to me after nine months. 3 “So weak, you didn’t let Leo’s memorial rituals falter, did you?” Seeing the thick layer of ash beneath Leo’s incense burner, Olivia nodded in satisfaction. “Once Leo is born, I’ll make sure you get good care to recover.” “Leo, Daddy finally gets to see you again. This time, I’ll never leave your side, I swear you’ll never be harmed again.” Ethan looked at Olivia’s heavily pregnant belly with a gaze full of fatherly love. “Olivia, could you leave me alone with Leo’s memorial for a moment?” Olivia immediately looked at me with suspicion. After confirming that I, in my near-dead state, posed no threat to Ethan, Olivia left the memorial room, glancing back constantly. Ethan’s gentle expression vanished instantly. “Leo’s death? I orchestrated the whole thing myself.” His eyes were fixed on me, a smile playing on his lips, utterly devoid of warmth. “Do you know why I did it?” Ethan leaned in close, his nose almost touching mine. He carried the subtle, woody scent of Olivia’s perfume, the very one I had personally chosen for her before she conceived Noah. My eyes held a blank indifference; I offered no response. “Five years ago, Mr. Caldwell, to break up Olivia and me, didn’t hesitate to orchestrate a cruel deception, having someone pose as my wife and seize everything I had, forcing me out of the country. Olivia had promised me she’d never marry another. But when I finally managed to escape Mr. Caldwell’s influence abroad and rushed back to find Olivia, I learned she had married you a year ago!” Ethan’s expression turned vicious. “I suffered so much abroad, yet she never once tried to contact me. I thought Mr. Caldwell was controlling her, but then I found out she’d completely forgotten about me!” “I had Olivia first! What right did you have to steal her?” “And I thought you were some scion of an esteemed lineage, someone who could match Olivia’s status. Turns out, you’re just an orphan, a nobody compared to me!” Ethan grew more agitated with each word, then slammed a fist into my face. A metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. I spat the blood directly onto his face. He seemed unable to comprehend that I would dare do such a thing. He furiously wiped his face, his expression even more distorted with the blood smears. “To win back a worthless woman, would you truly sacrifice your own flesh and blood?” He froze. Then, he laughed. “A worthless life with no name, what good is it alive?” “Since it’s useless, why not gamble with it?” “I only meant to use him to get rid of you and the bastard in her womb. But who knew Olivia cared so much about me? She even found a way to resurrect Leo with cloning technology! I never imagined she’d go to such lengths for us, father and son.” “The ‘worthless woman’ you speak of wields power enough to bring the dead back to life. Do you still think I was wrong to gamble my own flesh and blood to win her back?” “If you had cooperated back then, Olivia might have even kept some of your child’s hair or fingernails. Too bad she rushed to cremate every last trace of him~” Mentioning Noah stirred an uncontrollable surge of emotion within me. I snarled, wanting to lunge and bite Ethan. He laughed, taking a large step back, but a high-pitched shriek, incompatible with his smirk, escaped his throat. “Ethan!” Outside the door, Olivia’s frantic footsteps grew closer. Ethan, without hesitation, bit hard into his own palm. My breathing quickened. With a crash, Olivia kicked open the door and burst in. 4 Ethan had successfully bitten his right hand until it bled profusely, then replaced his pained expression with one of tearful sorrow. However, Olivia’s anxious gaze only lingered on his wounded hand for a fleeting moment. She stood frozen, then suddenly crumpled, sobbing, to the floor. Ethan’s shriek had startled her, triggering premature contractions. Olivia’s water broke. She had no time to mediate Ethan’s grievance. Even so, Ethan’s face contorted with a venomous expression. This terrifying man, who even envied his own son. Olivia swiftly summoned the most skilled obstetricians, but upon seeing the injury on Ethan’s hand, she coldly commanded: “Perform a C-section. And while I’m in surgery, castrate Alex too. Don’t give him any anesthetic. Let him watch his testicles being removed, fully conscious!” “My apologies, Mr. Caldwell.” After seeing Ethan escort Olivia away, the doctor put on his gloves, speaking softly and sympathetically to me: “Don’t blame me. I’ll make it as quick as possible, to spare you some suffering.” The moment the cold scalpel sliced into my skin, my soul vibrated with pain. I learned then that a human could be butchered like a piece of dead meat, stripped of all dignity. I screamed until my throat bled, losing consciousness several times. To keep me awake, the doctors had to inject me with adrenaline. By the end, I had completely lost all sense of self, forgetting I was even human. Leo’s first cries were like a pardon for me. The moment I heard Olivia had delivered, the male doctor on the surgical team quickly injected me with a painkiller. “Mr. Caldwell, it’s all over. Get some rest.” As I closed my eyes, the agony throughout my body vanished instantly. I thought it was just the painkiller working. My body grew lighter, relaxing completely, but then I found myself floating uncontrollably. When I opened my eyes again and saw myself from a bird’s-eye view, looking down at my mutilated self on the operating table, I realized I was already dead. If the entire operating room hadn’t been empty except for me, I wouldn’t have believed the person on the table was myself. After losing Noah, I hadn’t looked in a mirror. My once-muscular physique was gone. Skeletal limbs, wrists, and ankles bore permanent scars where my struggles had caused the long-term shackles to fuse with and then tear my skin. I gazed for a long time at my shattered, unrecognizable form. The operating room door opened. It was Olivia. Even in death, my soul trembled uncontrollably. What was she doing here? Did she think the punishment she’d inflicted wasn’t enough? If she discovered I was dead, would she grieve, or would she resent me for dying too soon, for not suffering enough to atone for Leo? She cradled her waist, carrying in a basin and a kettle of boiling water. Did she think I was sleeping instead of serving her after childbirth, and planned to scald me awake? She poured in the boiling water, then added cold, repeatedly testing the temperature with her hand. I began to feel confused. Apparently satisfied with the temperature, Olivia took out a soft towel, soaked it in the basin, then wrung out the water. She lifted one of my arms and meticulously began to wipe it with the towel. Olivia was washing my body. I let out a disbelieving, hollow laugh. After tormenting me to death over a crime she’d wrongly pinned on me, was she now staging some tender act? I couldn’t wait to see the expression on Olivia’s face when she realized I was truly dead. To my shock, the next moment, my corpse opened its eyes.

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The day before my wedding, my fiancée, Rebecca Grant, suddenly declared she was marrying my best friend, Leo Dalton. Double-crossed and humiliated, everyone waited for my spectacular downfall. But then, Scarlett Monroe, a prominent socialite and CEO from the Capital City, descended from the sky, as it were, and declared her feelings for me. Scarlett and I married. After that, I settled into life as a devoted homebody, teaching at the university, managing the household, and learning to be a stay-at-home husband. Some time later, at a business gala, I went to pick up a heavily intoxicated Scarlett. I overheard her brother speaking sympathetically about me: “Scarlett, isn’t the Dalton Mall you’ve built opening soon? You’ve sacrificed so much to pave the way for Leo, even your own marriage, manipulating Ethan. How long do you plan to fool him?” Scarlett’s voice was filled with a bitter resignation. “As long as Leo is happy, I will clear every obstacle for him.” It dawned on me then: all the affection, all the profound love, could be an act. I, Ethan Hayes, was just another pawn in their elaborate game. So, I decided to walk away. … Clutching a thermos of hangover remedy, with Ms. Davies, my secretary, by my side, I hurried to the gala at The Grand Crown Hotel. The server informed me that Scarlett was resting in the VVIP suite. Before I could even push open the door, a strong scent of alcohol wafted out. Through the door, I heard a familiar male voice: “Scarlett, isn’t the Dalton Mall you’ve built opening soon? All these years, you’ve sacrificed so much to pave the way for Leo, even your own marriage, manipulating Ethan. How long do you plan to fool him?” A jolt of confusion hit me. I was about to push the door open when I heard Scarlett’s voice, tinged with bitterness and heavy with drink: “Brother, as long as Leo is happy, I can keep up this act for a lifetime. I will clear every obstacle for Leo.” I was struck by lightning, my hand freezing mid-air. Ms. Davies, beside me, gave me a knowing but sympathetic look, her gaze anxious. So, everyone knew. Only I had been living in a fool’s paradise. The elegant strains of the cello from the hotel lobby seemed to twist into a discordant shriek in my ears, utterly grating. “Ethan loves you so much. What if, one day, he finds out the truth?” “He never will.” Inside the warm hotel, a shiver ran down my spine. I lowered my voice, speaking to Ms. Davies. “Ms. Monroe has had too much to drink today. Bring her out in a moment. I’ll wait for you in the car. Remember, don’t say anything you shouldn’t.” I sat in the car, staring blankly at the starry ceiling. Years of memories flashed through my mind like a slideshow, frame by agonizing frame. Rebecca, my fiancée, had suddenly broken off our engagement, causing a scandalous uproar. Everyone waited for my spectacular downfall, but then Scarlett appeared, claiming she had loved me for a long time. Caught in the eye of the storm, I was moved by her, deciding to marry her, creating a heartwarming tale in the Capital City’s elite circles. Now, it was clear: this marriage, woven from deceit, was nothing more than a cruel joke. Ms. Davies helped Scarlett into the car. Seeing me, Scarlett paused, surprised. Her misty eyes cleared instantly, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. “It’s just a gala. Ms. Davies could have picked me up. You work hard teaching and writing papers for your students; you don’t need to be running around.” I forced a tender smile. “I was just worried about you.” She embraced my arm, her voice soft. “The company’s new mall opens tomorrow; I might be busy very late. You go to sleep first, don’t wait for me. The weather’s been erratic lately, so take care of yourself.” Late that night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I remembered I’d left my headphones in the study. In the study, a few pages peeked out from a drawer under the desk. Usually, this drawer was locked. On an impulse, I pulled, and it opened. Inside were design blueprints for all of Scarlett’s company’s current and future development sites and commercial properties, along with a watch box. I flipped through the blueprints, page by page, and suddenly realized that the names of these plots and properties, even some of their floor numbers and logos, all, without exception, featured the word “Dalton”: Dalton Mall, Dalton Heights residential complex, Dalton Jewelers… Although I was an architecture major, Scarlett had always told me she had her own team, and I rarely interfered with company affairs. It became chillingly clear: every corner of her business world was etched with her endless love for Leo. I opened the watch box. It was empty, but the certificate was still there. It was for a Richard Mille Gem-Set Crystal timepiece. I had always liked this watch; I’d even opened my phone once to look at it repeatedly. Scarlett had glanced over and said, “Ethan, a watch like that, worth ten or twenty million, is highly overpriced, and too flashy for school. How about I get you an iWatch instead?” I remembered that yesterday, in a picture on social media, Leo Dalton was wearing that very Richard Mille watch on his wrist. I walked out to the balcony. The night was deep, the wind cuttingly cold. My eyes burned, a familiar prickle of tears. My phone screen lit up, a message popping in: “Mr. Hayes, are you sure you’ve made up your mind?” “I have.” It was time to leave. The next morning, as I was leaving the house, I called out to Scarlett. “I’m going to Paris tonight.” She looked surprised. “Why so sudden?” My heart ached, but I feigned nonchalance. “Paris University is hosting an international academic exchange. I just got the notification.” She kissed my cheek lightly, not sensing my sorrow. “Don’t work too hard. Come back as soon as the conference is over.” I couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly someone could feign such profound affection. Since everything was a lie, it was time for me to completely exit this farce. I remembered the address of her new mall from the blueprints and drove directly there. After today, I would completely disappear from Scarlett’s world. This would be our last farewell. Inside the mall, a designated area had been set up. Scarlett stood out vividly in the crowd, her high heels clicking, her aura commanding as she mingled with guests. Leo’s handsome face broke into a smile. He raised his glass to Scarlett. “Ms. Monroe, congratulations!” Scarlett’s eyes shimmered with complex emotions as she clinked glasses with Leo. “Mr. Dalton, it’s thanks to your top-notch design that our Dalton Mall is so magnificent, attracting so many customers right from its opening.” She emphasized “our mall.” My heart clenched. I walked towards them. Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw me, then quickly softened into her usual gentle expression. “Why are you here?” I forced a smile. “What? Am I not welcome?” Scarlett put down her glass. “How could you say that? I was just worried about distracting you from your work.” Leo glanced at me, his eyes full of hidden meaning. Just then, Ms. Davies hurried over. “Ms. Monroe, it’s time for your speech.” Scarlett said to me, “Then you rest a bit. I’ll be right back.” With that, she hurried onto the stage. I picked up a glass of champagne and sat down. Leo walked over, his voice dripping with mockery. “Long time no see, Ethan. My… dear brother. What? Starting to check up on her now? Why don’t you just tie Scarlett to your hip! How does it feel to be a kept man?” He leaned in, his voice a low sneer. “You better remember, you’ll always be my inferior.” He laughed heartily, and as he raised his hand, the Richard Mille watch on his wrist glinted, painfully bright. Leo and I were once the best of friends, so close we decided to study architecture together. But after my fiancée, Rebecca, broke off our engagement and married Leo, we became bitter enemies. Betrayed in both friendship and love, I was utterly devastated. Just when I thought my life had plunged into endless darkness, Scarlett’s appearance brought light back into my world. After deciding to marry Scarlett, she suddenly told me, while we were preparing for an international architecture competition: “Ethan, aren’t you very fond of the academic environment at the university? Why don’t you give up your company work and just focus on teaching and writing papers?” Moved, I immediately sold my architectural design firm and withdrew from the competition. The ultimate winner of that international architecture competition was Leo Dalton. He became an internationally renowned architect, while I became “Professor Hayes,” busy with lectures and grading. Thinking back, Scarlett must have been clearing obstacles for Leo from the very beginning. I looked up at the interior of the mall. The structural design was incredibly familiar, so familiar I wondered if I was hallucinating, yet some parts were modified in an awkward, ill-fitting way. My heart began to pound violently. I had an old design blueprint saved on my computer. After abandoning my architectural career, I hadn’t opened it again. How did my old design blueprint become Leo’s design now? And how was it built into a mall by Scarlett? I suppressed the confusion churning in my mind, casting a cold glance at Leo. Just as I was about to speak, I heard him bellow, “Ethan! What are you doing?!” “Ah—” Before I could react, Leo suddenly stumbled and fell, clutching his calf and lying on the ground, his face contorted in pain. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. “Quick! Call an ambulance!” “Someone fell! Get a doctor!” People crowded around, their gazes complex as they looked at me. Amidst the clamor, I saw an all-too-familiar figure. “Leo!” It was Scarlett, my wife for three years. Her face filled with panic, she rushed off the stage, pushing me aside. She knelt by Leo, asking anxiously, “Is your leg okay?” Just then, a doctor arrived. Scarlett carefully helped Leo onto a stretcher. She stood beside me, barely suppressing the fury on her face, and said, “I know you two had a falling out, but you shouldn’t have pushed him. Don’t you know he just recovered from breaking his leg skiing a while ago?” I looked at her, as if I had never truly known her. My voice trembled slightly. “Why? The design of this mall… it’s so similar to the blueprint on my computer?” Scarlett frowned. “How would I know? What blueprint? Architectural design uses standard software, it’s normal for things to look similar!” I couldn’t help but give a bitter, wry smile. My home computer, apart from the housekeeper, was only accessible to her. Sensing my displeasure and suspicion, she changed the subject. “I was too rash just now. I was just worried it would affect our future business partnership with the Dalton and Grant families. After all, Leo is still our chief designer, and I don’t want you to have trouble.” Seeing my expression, Scarlett softened her tone, grasping my hand tightly. “Let’s have lunch together. I’ll ask Ms. Davies to find a place. I’ll come over after I’ve dealt with things here. I’ll handle the Daltons and Grants.” I nodded. I almost admired Scarlett now, for being able to act to such an extent for Leo’s happiness. When I entered the Starlight Hotel’s top-floor restaurant, which offered the most expansive view, I received a few messages from Scarlett: “Leo’s leg is fine, just a scratch.” “Rebecca also said she won’t press charges.” I stood by the window, quietly watching the birds fly by, and replied to Scarlett: “Hm, that’s good.” Just as I was about to put down my phone, Leo sent me a stack of photos and a string of messages. “Oops, wrong recipient.” I zoomed in on the photos. Leo was drinking tea, selecting items. The slender hand of the person opposite him wore a familiar Van Cleef & Arpels limited edition bracelet – a birthday gift I had given to Scarlett. I sat on the sofa, waiting for a very long time, until the sun began to set. Scarlett didn’t come. I called Scarlett. It connected instantly.

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On my daughter’s eighteenth birthday, I scrolled through a social media post from a parent in her class. “So fortunate to be invited to my child’s best friend’s birthday celebration.” A smile touched my lips. It was good for my daughter to make more friends. But as I looked closer at the photos, a wave of confusion washed over me. A lavish birthday party was in full swing inside my villa, yet the figure at the center of the crowd was a stranger. And the dress she was wearing… wasn’t that the million-dollar gown I’d custom-ordered for my daughter? The more I looked, the more wrong it felt. I accessed the security cameras in our home. What I saw made my blood run cold: the unfamiliar girl, smiling sweetly, escorted a woman onto a central stage. She formally introduced her to everyone present. “This is my mother, Ms. Sinclair, CEO of Sinclair Industries.” And my daughter? She was on her knees nearby, a group of people pressing her head down, forcing her to lick cream off the floor like a dog. Rage shook me to my core. She was the CEO of Sinclair Industries? Then who, in God’s name, was I? 1 “Ms. Sinclair, congratulations on your recovery. You’ll be discharged in a few days.” In the exclusive recovery clinic, the director held a bouquet of flowers, smiling as he congratulated me. A faint smile touched my lips as I picked up my phone, ready to share the good news. But the next second, I saw a post on social media from Ms. Evans, whose daughter, Emily, was in my daughter’s class. I had never publicly disclosed my identity as the CEO of Sinclair Industries, wanting my daughter to blend in more easily at school. Today was my daughter’s birthday. The venue for the birthday party in Ms. Evans’s video, and the dress worn by the guest of honor, felt disturbingly familiar. Upon closer inspection, wasn’t this my house? Even more unbelievably, the exquisite gown I had commissioned for my daughter, costing a fortune, was now worn by someone else. I frowned. This dress was a gift for my daughter’s coming-of-age, a piece I had personally helped design. The gold thread and pearls alone were worth a fortune. A dark shadow passed through my eyes, and I immediately called Mrs. Peterson, our housekeeper. “Ms. Sinclair, Miss Clara is having her birthday party with her friends!” “Miss Clara said she loves all the things you sent back!” “Miss Clara is having birthday cake with her friends. She said she’ll call you back later.” After hanging up, I felt a deep sense of unease. Was I overthinking this? I messaged Ms. Evans, but she took a long time to reply. “It’s the kids’ business, we parents don’t interfere much,” she stammered, unable to give a clear answer. “What do we parents know about these things?” Soon after, when I checked her social media again, I found she had blocked me. I couldn’t help but call my daughter’s homeroom teacher. “Hello, Mr. Chen, this is Clara’s mother.” “I just wanted to check on Clara recently…” But the voice on the other end was full of impatience. “You’re Clara’s mother? Why are you only calling now?” the voice snapped. “I’m her new homeroom teacher. Mr. Chen has already left.” A pang of guilt struck me. For the past two years, due to my health, I’d been recuperating abroad. I hadn’t even known her teacher had changed. However, her next words made me jump. “Mrs. Davies, there’s something I need to say, whether it’s appropriate or not!” she barked. “As the child of the Sinclair family’s housekeeper, it’s already a great privilege that Ms. Sinclair allowed your Clara to enroll here. I never imagined your daughter would be so ungrateful, taking leave every other day!” “And her tuition for the current semester still hasn’t been paid! You need to settle it immediately.” “Honestly, I don’t know why she can’t be more like young Miss Sinclair!” With that, she contemptuously hung up. I nearly crushed my phone. I, a housekeeper? Someone had usurped my and my daughter’s identity? I was furious, then burst into a cold, mocking laugh. I immediately booked a flight back home. I was going to find out exactly what had been happening in my house. At six in the evening, I walked out of the airport, my luggage in hand. I was eager to meet this “Ms. Sinclair” who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. When I arrived at the company, everyone looked at me in shock. “Ms. Sinclair… why are you back so suddenly?” They all knew the true power behind Sinclair Industries was this Ms. Sinclair. No matter how authoritative Mr. Davies seemed, he was merely a figurehead. The one who truly held everyone’s fate in her hands, who had built Sinclair Industries from the ground up, was the iron-willed woman standing before them. “My dear, why are you back so suddenly?” Arthur Davies looked at me, his eyes full of a profound guilt. He seemed to have just rushed back from somewhere; usually so meticulous about his appearance, his clothes were noticeably wrinkled. I smiled, straightening his collar, pretending not to notice the faint red lipstick mark on it. “New cologne?” I asked, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. A flicker of panic crossed Arthur’s eyes. The new YSL fragrance was the number one women’s perfume. “Oh, it’s nothing! Our daughter, she’s grown up and cares about looking pretty now, and she accidentally dropped a bottle of perfume when she went out. It shattered and splashed all over me.” His face was filled with doting affection, as if he were truly a father spoiling his daughter. “Is that so?” I watched him spout such blatant lies, then scoffed. My fingers casually scrolled through the social media account of this “Miss Sinclair.” Every single limited-edition piece of jewelry I had bought for my daughter abroad was now adorning her. “Arthur, can you tell me how these things, which I acquired for our daughter, ended up on Mrs. Peterson’s granddaughter?” My eyes gleamed with sarcasm. “Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence. Every piece of jewelry is one-of-a-kind.” My assistant had already thoroughly investigated the girl’s identity: Mrs. Peterson’s granddaughter, Madison Peterson. I let out a mocking laugh. Mrs. Peterson had truly raised her well. No wonder everyone assumed she was the young lady of the Sinclair family. Seeing me produce the photos, panic flashed in Arthur’s eyes, but he quickly composed himself, looking at me with disapproval. “It’s like this, my dear. Mrs. Peterson is getting on in years and some chores are difficult for her, so she asked Madison to help out. Madison and Clara hit it off and are like sisters. They’ve been living and eating together for the past two years.” He smiled, an oily, placating expression. “Darling, it’s normal for girls to share, isn’t it?” Rage made me laugh. Normal? Sure enough, Arthur soon received a phone call. His face visibly paled, and he looked at me with incredulity. “My dear, why did you freeze my bank accounts?” I looked at him, concealing a dark intent in my eyes. “Arthur, where exactly did you pay our daughter’s tuition fees?” “Clara herself didn’t want to study, and she even broke school rules.” He tried to defend himself. “Don’t you believe me? Why don’t you ask Clara?” “I will investigate thoroughly.” With that, I turned and left. A chilling resolve settled in my heart. Since childhood, I knew my daughter’s character better than anyone. When she was little, she always begged me to sign her up for various music, dance, and art classes, claiming these were essential for becoming a princess. Now, in her final year of high school, she was on the verge of entering her dream university! A few years ago, Mrs. Peterson, our housekeeper, had moved into our home. Her cooking was beloved by my daughter, so I kept her on staff to manage my daughter’s daily life. However, I suddenly had a relapse of my old illness and had no choice but to entrust the company to Arthur. During this time, Arthur consistently assured me that our daughter was doing well. He even claimed she had made a good friend, Mrs. Peterson’s granddaughter. I frowned, arriving back home. My daughter was on the sofa, looking at me timidly. “Mom, you’re back.” She carefully tried to hug me, and I pulled her into my arms. But my daughter cried out in pain. Realizing something was wrong, I gently pushed up her sleeve. A landscape of greenish-purple bruises was revealed. A cold rage flashed in my eyes. “Who did this?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous. But Clara hid in my arms. “Mom, I just fell… I’m sorry, it’s Clara’s fault…” My daughter trembled, apologizing incessantly. Seeing my daughter’s unusual behavior, my heart ached. She wasn’t like this just a few years ago. It was all my fault. Now, no matter what, I wouldn’t leave my daughter’s side. I led my daughter gently back to my bedroom. “Mommy will stay with you tonight…” With me by her side, Clara seemed to relax. It seemed I had a lot to investigate. As I pondered, the bedroom door suddenly burst open with a kick. My daughter woke up, startled, trembling. A delicate figure in silk pajamas pointed at my daughter’s nose and cursed. “You bitch, who told you you could sleep here?” She stormed in, but stopped dead in her tracks the moment she saw me. “Who are you?” My face was utterly cold. “And why do you open the door without the owner’s permission?” The girl paused, surprised. “This is my parents’ house! Why would I knock?” I looked at her with chilling eyes. “Your mother? I don’t have a daughter like you…” My voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Get out before I lose my temper.” The girl was about to explode, but Mrs. Peterson quickly rushed in, covering her mouth. “Madam, this is my granddaughter. Sometimes she sleepwalks. Please don’t mind her.” With that, she dragged Madison downstairs. She smiled, handing me a bowl of red date and white fungus soup. “Madam, Miss Clara didn’t eat dinner tonight. This is a dessert I prepared for her.” I nodded. “You can go now.” I subtly noticed my daughter seemed particularly resistant to the two of them being near her. “Clara, are you hungry?” I asked gently. “Have a little something.” My daughter shook her head. “Mom, I don’t want to eat… Mom, please, I don’t want to eat. I hate how I look right now.” I looked at my daughter. Her slender figure was gone, replaced by a dark, bloated form. For some reason, her face was covered in a dense rash of acne. “I don’t want to drink it…” My daughter kept repeating, looking at the bowl of white fungus soup. But I remembered how much she used to love this. “Alright, if you don’t like this, I’ll make you something else tomorrow.” My daughter seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, then quietly fell asleep beside me. I looked at the bowl of white fungus soup, a dark glint in my eye, and immediately dialed a number on my phone. “Assistant Lewis, I need you to help me send something for testing… Yes, now.” My voice was firm. “Also, I need you to retrieve all deleted security footage from the house, no matter the cost!” Assistant Lewis was incredibly efficient. Soon, the technical team provided the results. But the content they sent nearly made my heart explode. The most recent security footage was from my daughter’s coming-of-age party. Yet, on that day, in this house, the one wearing the million-dollar gown was not Clara! “Such a beautiful dress is wasted on you!” Madison’s voice echoed from the footage. “Trash like you only belongs with dogs. You were just lucky to be born well… but some things don’t belong to you, they’ll never be appreciated by you.” “I hear it’s your birthday today too,” Madison continued, her smile malicious as she threw a piece of cake onto the floor. “Here’s some cake for you!” “Hurry up and lick it clean, don’t waste it.” “You’re just the housekeeper’s daughter. Young Miss Sinclair is doing you a favor by letting you be her dog.” The people beside her echoed her words, some even grabbing Clara’s hair, forcing her face into the cake on the floor. Clara struggled, trying to reach out in a certain direction. “Asher…” The next second, Madison stomped her foot viciously on Clara’s hand. “You bitch, know your place!” “Asher is mine!” My daughter’s agonizing cries were drowned out by the music. Asher Kent, a childhood friend who had been Clara’s shadow since they were little, was now watching Clara with cold indifference, allowing Madison to debase her. I was boiling with rage. Just then, Assistant Lewis’s text message came through. “Ms. Sinclair… the food you asked me to test earlier… it contains a large amount of hormones…” Looking at my daughter’s distorted figure and scarred face, my heart ached. So that was it. Madison, so young, yet so vicious. If that was the case, I wouldn’t let her get away with this.

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My wife’s male assistant left the client waiting in the biting cold for four hours. I managed to salvage the situation, merely cautioning him at the meeting against repeating such a blunder. Yet, Leo Bezos, the assistant, feigned tears and outright slandered me. “Director Bloomberg,” he whimpered, “how can you twist the truth and steal my credit? You were too lazy to get out of bed; it was all thanks to me begging the client on my knees, otherwise the deal would have fallen through long ago.” My wife, Seraphina, fully aware of the truth, not only failed to set things right but promoted him to Vice President, breaking all protocol. Worse, she forced me to hand over the project to him. Every colleague watched, expecting me to flip the table and quit. But I dutifully signed the project transfer agreement. Seraphina thought I had finally learned my place, smiling sweetly as she promised, “Don’t you worry, once this project succeeds and the company goes public, I’ll finally settle down and bear you an heir for the Bloomberg family.” What she didn’t know was that the client’s principal was my former mentor. He overlooked the initial blunder only because he valued my capabilities. Now, with all the company’s capital invested in the project, her breach of contract by arbitrarily changing the lead would not only sink every penny but also expose her to colossal damages. 1 “Arthur Bloomberg, you think handing over the project just makes everything disappear? Not a chance!” Leo Bezos, my wife’s male assistant, had just turned on me, but he wasn’t satisfied. He intended to grind me into the dust, to reclaim the dignity he felt he’d lost at the meeting. The truth was an open secret among the colleagues, but none dared to take a side, their gazes fixed on my wife, Seraphina. Leo, seeing I wouldn’t admit fault, raised an eyebrow. “What? You’re a useless hack, and you don’t like being told?” I turned my head, glancing at Seraphina. We had been secretly married for ten years, a fact she consistently refused to acknowledge publicly. This time, she had entrusted a crucial project to Leo, intending to elevate his standing. But Leo, lazy and overconfident, had overslept, leaving the client waiting in the biting cold for four hours, prompting them to storm out in a fury. This project, however, was critical for the company’s public listing; there was no room for error. Seraphina had approached me, offering a deal: if I could win the project back, she would finally announce our marriage at the meeting. I had been overjoyed. I poured my heart and soul into salvaging the deal, finally regaining the client’s trust. Today, I had expected Seraphina to keep her promise. I even bought a new suit, and tucked away in my pocket was a gold ring I’d saved half a year’s salary for. But I never imagined Seraphina would break her word, condoning Leo twisting the truth and letting him snatch both my credit and the project from me. Leo, seeing me look at Seraphina, pounded the table in a fit of pique. “What are you staring at? If it weren’t for Seraphina, who still values your old ties, you’d have been fired long ago!” Seraphina shot me an apologetic glance, then responded sternly, “The penalty fine can be waived, but the year-end bonus is completely forfeited, Arthur. Be more careful next time; don’t make such elementary mistakes again.” Her words seemed to protect me, but in reality, they cemented the blame squarely upon my head. And of course. She was the boss. Without her tacit approval, how would Leo, a newcomer, dare to challenge me? Listening to the smug, mocking whispers of my colleagues, I didn’t get angry; instead, I let out a cynical laugh and unclipped my ID badge right there. “No need for such trouble. I’ll just resign now.” Seraphina looked at me with displeasure. “Nonsense! If you resign, what about all the projects you’re handling?” I calmly shrugged. “Director Bezos is exceptionally talented. I’m sure he’ll do a far better job than I ever could.” At my words, everyone’s expressions shifted. They knew perfectly well that the company’s current success rested entirely on my shoulders. If I left, all the ongoing projects would likely collapse, and they wouldn’t be able to coast on their commissions anymore. Colleagues who had sided with Leo moments before now rushed to persuade me. “Director Bloomberg, Seraphina was just joking! The company can’t function without you!” Leo, seeing the spotlight snatched from him, spat, “Arthur Bloomberg, are you trying to ruin everyone’s performance? Don’t be so selfish!” Seraphina raised an eyebrow, about to stop Leo from saying more, when he suddenly clutched his chest, sinking to his knees. “Sera, I’m having an attack! Arthur Bloomberg has angered me into one! Please, call an ambulance!” Seraphina immediately panicked. “Arthur, are you a block of wood? Hurry and help!” I took one look. Leo’s face was flushed with health; he kept winking at me provocatively. He was clearly feigning illness again. Seraphina, however, didn’t see through it. She barked orders at everyone to help carry Leo to the car. I turned to leave, but to my surprise, Seraphina, even in her haste, called out to me. “You’re the one who made Leo sick! Where do you think you’re going to hide? Get in the car; you’re coming with me to the hospital.” I didn’t want to go, but I also didn’t want Leo to extort me later, so I followed them. In the back seat, Leo lay in Seraphina’s arms, whimpering and groaning about the pain. “Sera, Director Bloomberg is trying to murder me…” Seraphina was utterly distraught, scolding me angrily. “Don’t you know he has a heart condition? Couldn’t you just talk things out like a normal person?” Seeing her like this, I was long used to it. Over Leo’s issues, Seraphina and I had argued, thrown tantrums, even smashed things. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t change Seraphina’s blatant favoritism towards him. Even this time, Leo had blatantly stolen my credit and project, then openly mocked me. I simply wanted to escape the continuous exploitation by resigning, but she saw it as me throwing a tantrum. If I were my old, hot-headed self, I would have already engaged in a furious debate with her. But in the year since Leo appeared, he had stolen Seraphina’s affection, stolen my share of project profits, and now he was even seizing the hollow victories, the mere illusion of success. I wondered if, given more time, he would try to snatch the very title of ‘husband’ from me. Living like this, I was truly, utterly exhausted. I nodded, vaguely. “Mm, it won’t happen again.” Because there wouldn’t be a next time for us. Seraphina looked at me, surprised, and seemed pleased by my apparent capitulation. She even offered a rare explanation. “I know your heart isn’t bad, it’s just your sharp tongue that gets you into trouble. Leo has a heart condition; I was just worried about him getting too stressed, so I went along with him. Besides, he’s your protégé; don’t you want him to go far?” Yes! Leo was my protégé, and I was the one who personally introduced him to Seraphina. He was a struggling student I had sponsored, covering his university tuition and medical expenses. When he couldn’t find a job after graduation, I arranged an assistant position for him. But he wasn’t content being a mere assistant for life, so he pleaded with me to teach him design. Every day, I would sacrifice three hours of my own rest to teach him hand-in-hand. I knew he had a heart condition, so I asked Seraphina to look after him. But I never expected Seraphina to look after him so excessively. One day, I went to Seraphina’s office to discuss work, only to find them sharing an ice cream. Seeing this, a surge of anger rushed through me, and I confronted them immediately. That was the first time Leo feigned illness, and the first time Seraphina had ever given me a cold shoulder in front of others in all our years of marriage. She anxiously rushed Leo to the hospital, tending to his every need. Watching my own wife carefully care for someone else, my heart twisted. In ten years of marriage, I had never experienced her care. Once, I was doubled over with acute appendicitis, begging her to take me to the hospital, but she simply tossed a painkiller at me, her voice icy. “If you want to slack off, just say so. Don’t pretend. I despise people who feign illness more than anything!” Later, I had to call for an ambulance myself and get surgery. When she found out about my condition, she was still utterly disdainful. “Appendicitis? Everyone gets it. Stop acting like it’s a terminal illness, alright?” I thought she just had a tough exterior, a bark worse than her bite. But then I turned my head and saw Seraphina, a woman with severe germophobia, actually wiping Leo’s brow with her pristine sleeve. She anxiously urged the driver to speed up, as if Leo, not I, were her husband. I smiled bitterly, all my long-held convictions dissolving in that moment. I should have realized long ago. Her every action screamed the truth: she truly loved Leo Bezos, deeply and intensely. And I was merely a passing stranger in her life. I quietly messaged my mentor, telling him I had been cut from the project. He sent back a shocked emoji. [Arthur, come work for me.] I had rejected him countless times in the past. This time, I simply replied, “Okay.” To be with Seraphina, I had sacrificed my own promising future. Now, it wasn’t too late to turn back. I had to fight for myself. The ride to the hospital was silent. We brought Leo to the emergency room; his condition was perfectly fine. Once I received the news, I turned to leave. “Arthur Bloomberg, wait,” Seraphina called out, a sigh of relief escaping her. “I’ll go home with you.” She was about to link her arm with mine when Leo started feigning illness again, clutching his chest and groaning in pain. Seraphina sighed, then simply transferred five hundred dollars to me as compensation. “You go home first. Once the project is successful, I’ll give you the rest of your commission. And once the company goes public, I’ll return to family life. I promise you, I won’t break my word.” I vaguely mumbled “Mm.” I turned to leave, not bothering to collect the money she’d sent. I had no intention of continuing this life with her. My mentor was already preparing the legal documents, ready to sue her. Not only would the contract be terminated, but she would also face colossal damages. 2 On the way home, I received a barrage of taunting messages and videos from Leo Bezos. “Arthur Bloomberg, what good is being her husband when she’d gladly catch my vomit with her bare hands? Have you ever had that kind of treatment?” He was right. I hadn’t. When I was sick, she wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water, let alone care for me. “Arthur Bloomberg, is five hundred dollars enough for you? If not, I can transfer some more. Sera just transferred half a million to me after my ‘illness!’” I looked at the transfer record he sent. Seraphina truly did care for him. But her apologies to me were always grudging and miserly, while she’d casually drip-feed him tens of millions in spending money. I ignored his taunts, simply saving the evidence. Back home, I casually boiled some noodles, ate them, and went to bed. Late that night, Seraphina suddenly returned. She shook me awake. “Don’t sleep anymore. Leo’s sick. I’m letting him move in for a few days so I can look after him. Go clean up the guest room and change the sheets and duvet cover.” Annoyed at being woken, I turned over and continued to sleep. “You clean it yourself. I’m busy.” Leo, hearing my words, stormed in, frowning, and pointed an accusing finger at me. “Director Bloomberg, Sera was going to stay at my place. She only came back here to save your reputation as her husband! I’ve already agreed to impose on your home; Sera has begged you, too. Don’t push your luck!” Seraphina shook her head in disappointment. “You usually enjoy doing chores, don’t you? Are you deliberately targeting Leo right now?” Her voice was sharp. “He even told me he wouldn’t hold a grudge about you making him sick! How can you be so petty compared to your own protégé?” I let out a cynical laugh, not bothering to argue. “Right, right, it’s all my fault. You should definitely go stay at Leo’s place. You can look after him even better there.” Seraphina’s furious tirade stopped abruptly. Her eyes reddened with rage. “Arthur Bloomberg! What kind of husband pushes his wife into another man’s home?” She angrily punched me a few times, then ran out crying. After she left, Leo leisurely strolled in, giving me the middle finger in disdain. “Well, well, Master. I never thought you’d learn my tricks. But you’ll never outmaneuver me. Just you wait.” I didn’t listen closely, burying my head back into the pillow and falling into a deep sleep. The next morning, I woke feeling refreshed. As I walked into the living room, I was met with a rich, savory aroma. A lavish breakfast was laid out on the table. Seraphina, wearing an apron, seemed to have forgotten the previous night’s events. She pressed me into a chair and put a fried egg in my bowl. “Come, come, try this fried egg.” How strange. Seraphina never cooked. Had the sun risen in the west today? I was about to take a bite when I heard her muttering to herself. “Leo’s a picky eater. He won’t touch it if it’s even slightly burnt, and he won’t eat it if it’s too soft. Could you help me taste it…” I immediately put down my chopsticks. I had been a fool, deluding myself. How could she possibly be making breakfast for me? This meal was all thanks to Leo Bezos. Living like this, I was truly, utterly pathetic. I turned and walked into the room, retrieving the prepared divorce papers and handing them to her. Seraphina was busy with her cooking, not even sparing a glance. “The bone broth is still simmering on the stove. I’ll sign later.” I stopped her. “This is quite urgent. Sign it now; it won’t take long.” Seraphina sighed, took the pen, and quickly signed. She suddenly remembered something, casually asking, “Is this a new project you’re working on? I want Leo to join your team. Don’t worry, he won’t take any money; he just needs his name on it.” I carefully put the document away. Seraphina truly loved Leo deeply. She never forgot to seek benefits for him. But this time, she was destined for disappointment. “This isn’t a project. These are divorce papers.” 3 Seraphina froze. She still thought I was joking, as usual. She leaned forward, saw that it was real, and her face changed instantly. “What is the meaning of this? I merely let Leo stay for a few days! Why are you bringing up divorce?” As she spoke, she reached out to snatch the papers. I quickly hid them, looking at her. “Seraphina, wouldn’t it be better if I just let you two be?” Seraphina exploded. “Your thoughts are truly disgusting! I just see him as a little brother, nothing more!” Even now, after everything, she was still trying to deny it. I curled my lips into a cynical smile. “Is that so? There are so many impoverished students out there; how is it that you only ever recognize him as your ‘little brother’? Perhaps you should all swear blood brotherhood together.” My words completely enraged Seraphina. Her face cycled from green to purple, and she shrieked, “Fine! Divorced it is!” Leo, woken by the shouting, emerged from the guest room, wearing my pajamas, feigning concern as he tried to mediate. “Everyone, please stop arguing! If I’m causing problems between you two, I’ll just go die outside and never trouble Sera again.” Seraphina immediately forgot her anger, glaring at me. “Are you a dead man? Quickly, tell him you didn’t mean that! As long as you apologize to Leo, I’ll let everything that happened today go.” She thought I was just saying ‘divorce’ in a fit of pique, unaware that it was a deeply considered decision. I nodded. “Leo Bezos, your understanding is spot-on. That’s exactly what I meant.” Leo never expected me to actually retort. Losing face, he stormed out of the house in a rage, forgetting to even change his shoes. Seraphina’s face was ashen. She swept the entire breakfast table clean. The sandwich I had just pulled from the fridge was snatched from my hand and tossed into the trash. “Divorced, are we? Everything in this house was bought with my money! You don’t deserve to eat it!” Having spewed her venom, she then rushed off, chasing after Leo. Looking at the mess, I couldn’t be bothered to clean it up. Just as I was about to go out for food, my mentor called, inviting me to breakfast. I immediately changed and met him at a diner. “Arthur, how are things with your resignation?” I was about to say that Seraphina wouldn’t let me go when a notification popped up on my phone: my resignation had been successfully processed. “Director,” I said, a faint smile touching my lips. “It’s all sorted.” My mentor didn’t even wait to finish his porridge. He pulled out an employment contract. “Sign quickly! I brought the CEO’s seal with me, just in case you changed your mind!” Seeing his eagerness, I smiled. I didn’t let him down, glancing over the contract before signing it. He carefully put the contract away, then looked at me. “Are you free today? Accompany me to your company, will you?” Since I had nothing else to do, I agreed. After breakfast, I took him there. The moment I stepped into the company, I heard Leo Bezos’s sickly sweet, mocking tone. “Well, well, if it isn’t Arthur Bloomberg, the one who threatened to quit! What, just resigned and already regretting it?” Seraphina, alerted by the commotion, turned to look at me, letting out a cold scoff. “Leo, you don’t understand. Arthur’s old now; no one wants him. He can only come back begging us, otherwise he won’t even be able to afford a meal.” At that moment, the company was celebrating Leo Bezos’s promotion. A large cake sat on a workstation. Leo cut a slice, but instead of offering it to me, he smashed it right in front of me. “Director Bloomberg, since you’re my old mentor, if you lick that cake clean off the floor, I’ll let you come back to the company as a director.” My colleagues chimed in, mocking me. “No way! You can be a director just for eating cake? Director Bezos, why didn’t you offer us such a good deal? You’re clearly still biased towards your old teacher!” Leo chuckled, a sneer on his face. “Of course! Master painstakingly taught me everything; it wasn’t easy. As his protégé, I have to repay him, don’t I?” Seraphina stood by, watching me being humiliated and mocked. She didn’t defend me; instead, she even joined in, stepping on a blob of cream with her shoe. She pointed at the shoe-marked cream on the floor, addressing me. “Arthur Bloomberg, you don’t know this yet, but the company has already invested all its money into this project’s production line. If you eat that, I’ll let you have a share of the project’s profits. This money will be enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life. I’d like to see whether you choose money, or your dignity.” Looking at Seraphina’s contorted face, I smiled. “Is that so? Are you sure the collaboration can continue?” Seraphina raised an eyebrow, thinking I was bluffing, and let out a cold scoff. “You’re just an old-timer clinging to past glory; I’ve tolerated you for too long. This time, Leo has already ironed out everything with the client. They’re very satisfied. The company no longer needs you.” Leo also stepped forward triumphantly. “Master, you’re old. My abilities surpass yours. Get lost, don’t spoil our celebration!” No wonder. Seraphina had been so resistant to letting me go before, but had suddenly agreed to my resignation. It was because she thought Leo had already learned all my skills. I suddenly smiled and asked, “Director Hayes, are they telling the truth?” My mentor emerged from behind me, pulling off his sunglasses. His voice was a thunderous roar. “Nonsense! I’ve never even seen you before!” Only then did everyone realize that he was the principal client! Leo’s lie was exposed, and his face instantly turned ashen. Seraphina, too, had not expected my relationship with the client to be so close. But her grand pronouncements had already been made. Now, she had no choice but to push through, stubbornly. “Arthur Bloomberg, so what if you have a good relationship with the client? The contract has already been signed! Breach of contract demands five times the penalty fee! I don’t believe for a second he’d lose money just to help you out!” Before I could speak, my mentor scoffed, flipping open the contract to show Seraphina. “Look closely. You arbitrarily changed the lead. You are the one in breach of contract! Prepare five hundred million in funds. We’ll see you in court!”

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1 Becoming a concert pianist had always been my dream. But on the day of my Grand Master piano examination, a group of thugs suddenly stormed the venue. As I was about to complete my performance, they slammed down the heavy piano lid, then stomped on it repeatedly, with all their might. My fingers were instantly smashed to a bloody mess. I screamed, trying desperately to pull my hands free, but I couldn’t. I looked to my wife, Vicki, for help. Instead, I watched as she actually blocked my friends and the security guards who were trying to reach me. I only learned later that these thugs were there for Leo Maxwell. They meant to break his hands. But my wife had said: “You can’t touch Leo’s hands. Go for the pianist over there. He’s all yours.” My heart died that day. I decided then and there that I would divorce her. But later, she begged for my forgiveness. She even broke Leo’s hands, crying as she pleaded with me. … The piano lid slammed down with a sickening thud, struck by a thug’s bat. It was impossibly heavy. I screamed, a primal sound torn from my throat, frantically trying to yank my fingers from beneath the crushing weight. But the thug, a burly brute, stepped onto a bench and then jumped onto the piano, stomping down with all his weight, again and again. The pain was excruciating, shooting through every nerve, making me gasp for breath, cold sweat slicking my skin. “Stop it! Stop! Please, stop hitting! Just stop!” I begged, my voice hoarse. “I’ve never done anything to you! Why are you doing this to me?!” The thug looked down at me, a sneer twisting his brutal face. “No grudge, huh? Leo Maxwell put my brother in prison. I came for my revenge, but your wife stopped me. She said you were fair compensation. A pair of hands? That’s not too much to ask, is it, big-shot pianist?” “No… it’s impossible!” I twisted my head, my eyes wide with disbelief. Across the room, Vicki was directing a phalanx of bodyguards, shielding Leo in their midst, murmuring reassurances to him, telling him not to be afraid. My piano teacher, horrified, was trying to get past with the venue’s security, but Vicki stood in their way. “This is a private family matter,” she’d said, her voice sharp. “You don’t need to interfere.” My body trembled with a cold fury, unable to reconcile what I was seeing with reality. This was beyond absurd! The next second, I heard a sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of bone shattering. Warm, sticky blood began to seep from beneath the lid, trickling down the polished piano keys. A wave of icy panic washed over me. I was terrified. Terrified I would never play piano again. Shame and dignity crumbled. I looked up at her, my voice raw with desperation. “Vicki, please! For the sake of our three years of marriage! Save me! Please, save me!” She merely glanced at me, her gaze cold and distant. “It’s because you’re my husband that I’m letting you do this. You’re truly disappointing me, Ethan.” Her voice was dismissive. “It’s just a few stomps, isn’t it? Leo has helped me so much. This is just you repaying a debt.” Hearing such cruel, venomous words spill from her beautiful, crimson lips felt like a knife twisting in my heart. In that moment, I couldn’t tell if my heart or my mangled hands hurt more. Four years of dating, three years of marriage. Did she not know that my dream was to be a concert pianist? That these hands were the most precious things I possessed? Seven years of a shared life, of supposed affection, shattered and crumbled into dust at that very moment. The thug continued to stomp on the lid, venting his twisted rage. As if that wasn’t enough, he began to kick my face, his foot grinding against my head, then he shoved the toe of his shoe into my mouth. My hands were pinned; I was utterly helpless to resist. And my wife stood by, utterly indifferent, her eyes fixed only on Leo, who had started to fake a heart attack again, drawing her concern. 2 My piano teacher’s eyes blazed with fury. “Vicki Hayes! As Ethan’s wife, not only do you refuse to save him, but you forbid us from helping?! Look at the state Ethan is in! Doesn’t your conscience ache, even a little?!” She spared me a cold glance. “So his hands got stomped on a few times? Is there really a need for all this melodramatic wailing?” She turned to me, her voice sharp. “Ethan Blackwood, can’t you be a man for once? A piano lid can’t possibly crush your hand! Stop feigning pity; it only makes me look down on you.” I was so weak, so broken, I barely had the strength to speak. My lips trembled as I whispered, “No, I’m not faking. My fingers… they’re broken.” Vicki couldn’t hear my faint words. She knitted her brows in annoyance. “Ethan Blackwood, will you stop acting like a child? A piano lid weighs nothing! How could it possibly break your hand? Stop trying to get sympathy; it’s pathetic.” My fingers were fractured, pulverized, a mangled mess, yet she called it “feigning pity.” My piano teacher stood beside her, sputtering with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at Vicki’s face. “Are you dense as a brick?! Do you have any idea that piano weighs six hundred pounds, and its lid alone is over a hundred? It’s even studded with jagged diamonds along the edge! And on top of that, a two-hundred-pound brute is jumping on it! If he isn’t rescued right now, his fingers will be ruined forever!” Her voice cracked. “He has such incredible piano talent, a future master! Just ruined like this! How can you be so cruel?!” Vicki paused, her expression momentarily faltering, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes as she listened to my teacher. Just then, Leo Maxwell nearby began to cough dramatically. “I truly envy Brother Ethan, having such a caring teacher!” He wheezed, then looked at Vicki. “Vicki, don’t worry about me. Just let these thugs beat me to death! Brother Ethan is a noble pianist, his hands are so precious. How could I let him suffer for me?!” Vicki immediately turned to Leo, soothing him with tender hands, then spun back to me and my teacher, her eyes blazing with pure disgust. “Get lost, you old hag! My husband and I’s business is none of your damn concern!” She scoffed. “What ‘noble pianist’? He’s nothing but a dog I keep! It’s his damn good fortune to help Leo! If his fingers are broken, they’re broken! Go home and stay there! It’ll stop you from prancing around and flirting with every woman in sight!” Each word that spilled from her lips was like a razor-sharp blade, slicing my heart into a thousand pieces. I had always deceived myself, clinging to the belief that her lingering connection with Leo was just some innocent nostalgia for her youth. At least I was the one she loved now, the one who held her. But in this agonizing moment, I finally understood: she had never loved me. Her heart belonged only to Leo. And I, in her eyes, was nothing more than a loyal, pathetic dog. The profound, all-consuming love I’d felt, for which I would have sacrificed everything, was, to her, nothing but a slobbering pug’s desperate tail wag. My anger surged, a hot, bitter wave, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. 3 The brute still standing on the piano seemed to revel in the unfolding farce. He gave a triumphant bounce. With that final, jarring impact, my fingers were finally, irrevocably, torn from their roots. Something inside me shattered with an audible crack. I could no longer hold on, and the world spun into darkness as I slumped forward onto the piano. As I coughed up blood and fainted, the last image burned into my mind was Leo Maxwell leaning close to my wife, whispering something into her ear, making her laugh, her body shaking with delight. I closed my eyes in despair, two hot tears tracing paths down my temples. Vicki Hayes, all these years I spent with you… they were truly a mistake. If there was a way to undo it, a magic pill to erase you, I would take it. I would rather have never met you.

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