Category: English

I was pinching the small of my athletic younger brother’s back, trying to get a new sweater on him. His grunt coincided with my phone ringing. “It’s too small, I can’t get it on.” “No way! I bought it according to your measurements.” “It’s stuck! Easy, ouch, ouch, ouch.” “Okay, okay, I’m helping, aren’t I?” I gave it a good tug and cooed, “There you go, sweetie. All better now, let your big sis see.” “You sure?” Later, I heard that the boss took a mysterious call during a meeting, his face growing darker by the second. He didn’t say a word, just reamed out 28 department heads until they were teary-eyed. 1 My brother pointed at my phone. Only then did I realize I was on a call, the screen clearly displaying the name [Ethan Vance]. I picked up the phone, about to explain, but only heard the dial tone. He’d hung up. Not long after, a message came through: [If you’re recovered then get your ass back to work you’re not the CEO’s wife yet to be acting all high and mighty.] Two lines, no punctuation, which my brain automatically converted into his calm, cold tone. He must have heard me talking to my brother, full of energy, and figured I was recovered and just slacking off at home. Damn capitalist. I quickly replied: [Understood, Mr. Vance. I’ll be back tomorrow.] The “typing” indicator appeared on his end but nothing came through. He probably wanted to chew me out but held back. That mouth of his, never held back when he wanted to criticize someone. But I’d been with him for four years and this was my first time off, and it was sick leave. The next day, my colleague, Deb, saw me and immediately warned me to be careful. “He’s been in a foul mood. Yelled at all the VPs until they cried in yesterday’s meeting.” I timed it perfectly, made a cup of coffee, and knocked on his office door, bringing him the day’s schedule to review. “Mr. Vance, good morning. Here’s today’s agenda. “Two regular meetings during the day, and a dinner with the Sterling Group tonight.” He didn’t touch the coffee. His long fingers rested casually on the desk, his voice icy. “Have the new girl, Isabelle, join me for dinner tonight. You don’t need to go.” “Wh— Alright, Mr. Vance. I’ll let her know to prepare.” I swallowed my questions and quietly exited his office. He disliked subordinates questioning his decisions, and hated people prying even more. I smoothed over my irritation and walked over to Isabelle Reid. Upon hearing the news, Isabelle covered her mouth dramatically, her eyes glistening with tears. “Really, Sophia? I’m sorry, I’m just so excited…” Deb, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, leaned in. “Isabelle, you’re really something. Only been filling in for a few days and you’re already aiming to take your mentor’s spot.” “Not at all! I still have so much to learn from Sophia. But Mr. Vance is so sweet, isn’t he?” Sweet? I turned my head and met Deb’s equally puzzled gaze. 2 I hired Isabelle a month ago, after my surgery date was confirmed. Although Deb offered to cover for me during my leave, I declined her kindness. I had my own plans. Four years ago, right after college, fate threw me at Ethan Vance’s side. Back then, he’d just left Vance Holdings to start his own company. In just four short years, he built it into an industry leader. I was by his side, benefiting from his success, but also living in his shadow. Now, everyone in the company respectfully called me Sophia, but only because I stood next to him. In reality, the doubts never ceased. Even in Ethan’s mind, I was just someone easily replaceable. Only by leaving him could I prove that I’d lasted this long by his side because of my own abilities. Besides, I’d heard when I first joined the company. He took one look at me and decided to hire me. All because I bore a resemblance to his old flame who lived abroad. I hadn’t quite believed it. Until the day Isabelle came for her interview. Ethan looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes, as if seeing an old acquaintance. Only then did I start to believe the rumors were true. Except this time, when people joked, they no longer mentioned that “one that got away.” “Isabelle looks a bit like Sophia, doesn’t she?” “Looks like Mr. Vance has a type.” Late at night, staring at a photo on my phone, I gradually understood. Isabelle didn’t just look like me; she looked even more like his old flame. The photo on my phone was a picture of a palm-sized photograph. One day, about a year ago, the cleaner found a photo in the trash after tidying the office and brought it to me. “Ms. Bell, Mr. Vance threw this photo in the bin. I don’t know if he still wants it.” “Give it to me, I’ll ask him.” I took the photo. Ethan had a boyish smile, looking about seventeen or eighteen. Next to him stood a girl, pretty, with a radiant smile. They stood together like a golden couple, exuding the same air of privilege, a perfect match. On a whim, I secretly took a picture of the photo with my phone. When I placed the original photo on Ethan’s desk to return it, he glanced at it. His outstretched hand paused mid-air, then retracted. “I threw it out.” “She got married.” I silently cursed myself for being nosy. “Then I’ll shred it before throwing it away, just to be safe.” “Forget it, give it to me.” My fingers had just touched the photo when his hand landed almost simultaneously on top of mine, covering the back of my hand. The moment he looked up, I pulled my hand back, my throat tight. “Okay, Mr. Vance.” The electric warmth that had coursed through me replayed in my mind. Ethan had surely forgotten it long ago. 3 After briefing Isabelle on the dinner etiquette and procedures, Deb pulled me aside. “The days you were out, she was wearing low-cut dresses with slits practically up to her navel.” “You hold back a little. Don’t tell her everything.” I appreciated her concern and chuckled. “Mr. Vance didn’t scold her, so he must like it.” “Besides, I don’t plan on sticking with Ethan Vance forever.” I turned to make coffee. The spoon stirred my thoughts, which gradually settled. Before leaving work, I placed a bottle of milk on Ethan’s desk, as usual. He had his legs lazily propped on the edge of the desk, his silhouette long and lean. “Mr. Vance, I’ve briefed Isabelle on all matters related to tonight’s dinner.” “Remember to drink the milk before you have any alcohol.” He glanced sideways. Looked at the milk bottle, then his gaze landed on my face. “You’ve lost weight.” Then, his tone shifted. “Am I not paying you enough?” “Huh?” I was slightly taken aback, then immediately understood. It had only been an afternoon, and what I’d let slip to Deb had already reached his ears. A bit fast, but not unexpected. I said seriously, “Mr. Vance, I was originally planning to tender my resignation once Isabelle was fully up to speed.” “Thank you for your guidance these past few years…” “What are they offering?” He frowned slightly, as if discussing a difficult business deal. As if I were an item in a shop window. Anyone could buy me, as long as the price was high enough. I shook my head firmly but gently. “It’s not about the money.” “Then what is it? Because I asked Isabelle to accompany me to dinner, or because you haven’t rested enough from your illness?” “If something is making you unhappy or uncomfortable, you can tell me.” His tone actually had a hint of coaxing. The golden evening sun slanted in, a ray landing right on his Adam’s apple as it bobbed. His chiseled face was in shadow, as beautiful as a sculpture. Seeing I wasn’t speaking, he reached up, loosened his tie, and undid two shirt buttons, revealing a sliver of skin on his chest. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. 4 In that instant, an air of desire seemed to bloom in the room. I looked away. In front of employees, he was always impeccably dressed, never giving anyone reason for inappropriate thoughts. Could it be… Isabelle’s flirting had opened up a new world for him? His voice pulled me back to reality. “If it’s because of Isabelle, I can understand. If you mind…” “No, it’s not that,” I quickly explained. “Isabelle is very smart, a very suitable replacement for me.” He adjusted his cuffs, stood up, and undid another shirt button. A hint of lean, firm pectoral muscle was visible. His broad shoulders tapered sharply to a narrow waist, enough to make one blush. I fanned myself with my hand. “Spring weather is so strange. It was so cold yesterday, and so hot today.” “My matter isn’t urgent. I’ll talk to you in detail later.” “Mr. Vance, you should get ready to leave.” “I’ve already told the driver; if you drink too much tonight, he’ll take you directly back to the Vance estate.” He looked at me, his tone cool, his eyes holding a predatory glint. “Don’t worry. If I drink too much, Isabelle can take care of me.” “She can take me back to my place, where I live alone.” “Of course, she could stay the night, if I wanted.” “After all, I’m pretty big—”

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A few days before the wedding, I stumbled upon a viral love story online. Under every one of the blogger’s late-night melancholic posts, an anonymous commenter would reply instantly. Each reply brimmed with deep affection for the blogger. Like other netizens, I was completely captivated by this moving romance. Until one day, the blogger posted a beautiful photo, tinged with tears: 【I know it’s you, but it seems impossible for us. I wish you a happy marriage.】 That person still replied in a heartbeat: 【Anyone but you is just settling.】 My heart plummeted. The person in the photo was none other than my fiancé Ethan Sterling’s childhood sweetheart, Clara Finch. 1 My hand trembled, and the last stroke on the wedding invitation went completely askew. I put down the calligraphy pen and clicked on the original post details, only to find it no longer existed. I inadvertently noticed Clara Finch’s username—【LittlePhalaenopsis】. Looking at the Phalaenopsis orchid design printed on our wedding invitations, my heart jolted. The flowers for our wedding were chosen by Ethan; they were Phalaenopsis orchids. In Clara Finch’s follow list, I found an account with a Phalaenopsis orchid as its background. 【My family found a marriage partner for me. I’ll just let her do the laundry, cook, have kids, and bear the risk of her figure changing for you.】 【Marrying her is a task I have to complete, but being with you is my life’s true wish.】 So, what I thought was a marriage материалов for love was just Ethan finding a tool for procreation. If you set aside me, the sacrificed party, their so-called love seemed quite “deep.” I rubbed my sore wrist, gazing at the pile of wedding invitations I’d spent the afternoon handwriting. A sharp pain pierced my chest, and my vision blurred. At seven in the evening, Ethan came home, casually tossing his suit jacket into my arms and asking with a frown: “Why isn’t dinner ready yet?” Due to years of business dinners, Ethan had a sensitive stomach. To take care of him, I quit my job and meticulously prepared stomach-friendly meals every day. Thinking about it now, isn’t that what a housekeeper does? “I didn’t make any,” I replied. “So you want me to eat that garbage takeout? Lila Shaw, do you think just because we’re about to get married and make it official, you can start slacking off?” My voice was hoarse: “About the wedding…” Ethan turned around, annoyed: “I told you to handle it. Can’t you see I’m swamped every day?” I met his impatient gaze, no longer tiptoeing around: “Let’s just forget about the wedding.” It took Ethan a moment to process. He stared at me, puzzled: “Forget it? Weren’t you the one crying and begging for a grand wedding?” I gave a bitter smile: “No wedding, and no need to get married. Let’s break up.” Seeing my swollen eyes, he finally sensed something was wrong. “Are you okay, Lila? You were the one who insisted on marrying me. My parents condescended to meet yours and even specifically allowed your… less well-off relatives to attend. Now everyone knows we’re getting married, and you’re saying forget it. What are you trying to pull now?” Ethan, always cold and arrogant in front of me, would bend over backward to cheer up another woman under her posts. For five years of our relationship, I was always the one actively sharing life’s little joys, while he was like a robot, just replying “Hmm” or “Okay.” Sometimes, if I accidentally sent an emoji, he’d call me childish. Turns out, it wasn’t that he was reserved. Indifference. It was just because he didn’t love me. “I said, I don’t want to get married. You don’t have to force yourself anymore. Wouldn’t it be better to focus on protecting your Phalaenopsis?” Ethan froze, his face instantly darkening: “Two years ago it was a photo in my wallet, last year it was a plane ticket, and now it’s a post? Can you stop making such a fuss!” With that, Ethan walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. I felt like all my strength had been drained, and I collapsed onto the sofa. Every year, I’d find new evidence of Ethan’s lack of commitment to our relationship, always trying to salvage it with big fights. I forgot that leaving is the best escape. 2 When I woke up the next day, I found a light blanket covering me. Ethan was sitting nearby, leisurely sipping an Americano. He had a tall, imposing figure and a distinguished air, things that had made my heart flutter countless times. Seeing me awake, he said gently, “Today is Grandpa’s 80th birthday. I took a special day off from the company. Let’s go wish him a happy birthday together.” In the past, to accommodate Ethan’s schedule, the Sterlings always arranged old Mr. Finch’s birthday on a weekend. I clicked on Clara Finch’s account and, sure enough, saw her IP address had changed from Sweden to San Francisco. They called it the old man’s birthday banquet, but it was really just a welcome home party for Clara. Fine. Since the Sterlings would all be there, it was the perfect opportunity for me to announce the cancellation of the wedding. Seeing me start to put on makeup, Ethan frowned: “Haven’t I told you not to wear heavy makeup? Who are you dressing up so beautifully for?” After college, several guys had pursued me. Thinking back, Mr. Sterling had strongly pushed for Ethan and me to get together, probably because he valued my simple family background, my no-makeup-for-work demeanor, and my obedient nature. He figured once I married into the Sterling family, I’d be a contented, non-threatening housewife, focused on husband and children. I finished my makeup, put on high heels I hadn’t worn in ages, and retrieved the handwritten calligraphy birthday gift from the study. It was rare for Ethan to see me in full makeup. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. 3 As we opened the door to the Sterling mansion, I saw Clara Finch laughing and chatting amidst a group of elders. When Ethan arrived, Clara gasped, then skipped over and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, my dearest! I haven’t seen you in years! Did you miss me?” Ethan glanced at me, slightly uneasy. I ignored him and walked straight to old Mr. Finch, presenting the framed calligraphy: “Grandpa, happy 80th birthday.” Clara covered her mouth, feigning surprise: “Lila, you’re giving calligraphy too? Three months ago, I specially flew to England and spent $150,000 to commission a piece from the calligraphy master, Adrian Quillan. Whose work is yours?” “I wrote it myself.” Clara immediately had someone lay both pieces on the table for comparison. “I don’t know much about calligraphy, so I can’t tell good from bad.” Ethan said disdainfully, “How can her amateurish stuff compare to a master’s?” I nodded. “Master Quillan is 76 this year. Everyone in the field knows he stopped writing in cursive after 70 and only does formal script. This cursive piece by Master Quillan is indeed rare.” Clara’s expression changed. “I have a senior fellow apprentice who is Master Quillan’s student. I’ll call him right now and ask.” Clara instantly looked flustered. Ethan slapped my phone out of my hand. He snatched up my calligraphy, tore it into pieces with a few rips, threw it on the floor, and stomped on it hard. “Are a master’s affairs something someone like you can speculate about?” Before I could say anything, Clara started crying pitifully. “It’s all my fault. Why did I have to mention the $150,000? Lila’s probably never even seen that much money in her life.” Ethan pulled Clara into his arms. “There, there, Clara, don’t cry. She’s just unsophisticated and petty. Be good, you won’t be pretty if you keep crying.” Mrs. Sterling said sharply, “Lila, you’ve been here for so long. Why aren’t you in the kitchen yet?” Every time I visited, I would cook a table full of delicious food for them. My filial piety towards the elders was, in their eyes, no different from a housekeeper’s. Mrs. Sterling said gently to Clara, “Clara, dear, tell us what you want to eat. Lila can make it.” Clara pointed at my hands. “No wonder Lila’s hands are so rough. It must be from all the cooking. Not like mine; these hands only know how to play the piano and get manicures.” Ethan smirked. “That’s about all she’s good for.” I crossed my arms. “Sorry, these hands of mine aren’t cooperating. My carpal tunnel is acting up. I can’t serve anyone today.” 4 Mrs. Sterling frowned. “I just thought your cooking was decent and wanted to give you a chance to show off. How did it turn into serving us? What, not even married into the family yet and you’re already trying to pin labels on me?” Mr. Sterling slammed the table: “Enough! Today is Grandpa’s 80th birthday. Why are you all arguing over such a small matter?” Mr. Sterling had always been relatively nice to me. I’d wait until after dinner to bring it up. Even without my cooking, a table full of dishes was quickly laid out. Clara had already taken a seat next to Ethan. I was about to sit further away, but Ethan pulled me back. “Still mad after a few words?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. Clara bit her chopsticks, pouting. “Ethan, dearest, I want some of that fish roe.” Ethan stood up, brought the fish roe over, and thoughtfully placed it in front of Clara. Then, uncharacteristically, he put a large shrimp on my plate. I picked the shrimp off my plate and said coldly, “Don’t you know I’m allergic to shrimp?” Ethan slammed his chopsticks down. “Eat if you want to, leave if you don’t! We’re getting married in a month, what’s all this drama about? You’re such a handful!” My temper flared. “Grandpa, I’m sorry, I really can’t take it anymore. I’ve decided not to marry Ethan Sterling.” “What?!” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling shrieked in unison. Old Mr. Finch walked over unsteadily and grasped my hand. “Why suddenly not getting married? You’re already engaged, how can you not get married?” Ethan’s face was dark; he turned stiffly. “All these elders are here. You need to think before you speak!” “It’s precisely because the elders are here that I need to make things clear.” With that, I pulled out my chair and walked out, feeling a sense of relief. Clara whimpered and ran over to tug at my sleeve. “Lila, Lila, are you angry because I’ve been clinging to Ethan? I just haven’t seen him in years and got a little too excited. Please don’t misunderstand.” Ethan looked like he understood completely, pulling Clara to his side with a smirk. He scoffed mockingly, “Let her throw her tantrum. She does this once a year, like clockwork. We’ve spoiled her! Let’s eat, don’t mind her!” 5 I walked back to the villa, the cold wind hitting my face. In less than an hour, my luggage was packed. As I was buying a plane ticket, a notification for Clara’s post popped up. The picture was of a single, ice-white Phalaenopsis orchid, with two hands clasped in the blurred background. 【Haven’t seen you in years, and you give me white Phalaenopsis again. Besides you, who else still treats me like a child?】 The post blew up again, with a stream of【99】【So jealous】scrolling across the screen. But this time, that “Robert” account didn’t appear in the comments. I casually liked it, then swiped out, quickly bought a ticket for an evening flight, and rushed to the airport with my luggage. While going through security, I received a message from Ethan: 【Clara is planning to come work at my company. Tidy up the guest room on the third floor. Remember, no air freshener; she doesn’t like the smell.】 【Still daring not to reply?】 【Clara’s family and mine are old family friends. Don’t project your dirty thoughts onto us. Do I need to explain what ‘old family friends’ means?】 I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened the chat with my parents and told them I was coming home. Opening the door to my parents’ house, I was greeted by the aroma of hot food and their warm embrace. Ethan was always busy, and to take care of him constantly, I hadn’t been home in years. I told them I wasn’t planning to get married. My parents were surprised for a moment, then quickly accepted it. After all, on the day of our engagement, Ethan’s parents had been so snobbish, looking down their noses and openly mocking the precious local homemade gifts my parents brought, making my parents feel incredibly awkward. 6 Ethan must have gone back to the villa and found me gone, because he started calling. The custom ringtone he’d set for me echoed in my ears, over and over. I pressed the power-off button. Then I pulled out some calligraphy paper from under the cabinet, ground the ink, dipped the brush, and started practicing. Soon, the paper was densely covered with my writing. Satisfied, I turned my phone back on and opened the camera to take pictures. A notification for 99+ missed calls from Ethan popped up. I calmly swiped the notification away. After finding a good angle and taking several photos, I uploaded them to my social media. I woke up to find it had gone viral. There was a familiar profile picture in my DMs. It was Leo Bell, a senior from my hometown who was in the university calligraphy club with me. After a pleasant chat, we agreed to meet up tomorrow to catch up. 7 When I saw Leo Bell, he was holding a bouquet of larkspur, symbolizing freedom. Leo smiled shyly, just like the innocent young man from years ago. “I remember you like larkspur.” A delicate fragrance filled the air, and my heavy heart seemed to skip a beat or two unexpectedly. “You actually remembered.” Leo looked at me, his eyes shining like stars: “I remember a lot of things about you.” I felt a little embarrassed: “What should I give you in return?” Leo thought for a moment: “Well, then write a piece of calligraphy for me.” Leo walked me to my door. I didn’t let him leave, excitedly pulling out calligraphy paper: “What would you like me to write?” Leo picked up the inkstick and began to grind it for me. “May Lila be like the free-flying larkspur, and find her freedom in this life,” Leo said slowly, word by word. My brush paused, and my nose tingled. He looked at me quietly, his eyes holding a universe of stars. Once the characters were dry, he carefully wrapped it up as if it were a priceless treasure. “This wish, I’ll need your help to make it come true.” Under his caring gaze, I nodded vigorously. Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on the door. I thought my parents were back. When I opened the door, I saw a haggard-looking Ethan. He had dark circles under his eyes and a short stubble on his chin, looking utterly exhausted. 8 “Lila, why didn’t you tell me you came home…” Ethan’s voice was hoarse. Leo called out from the room: “Is that your aunt and uncle back?” Hearing an unfamiliar male voice, Ethan looked stunned. He gripped my shoulders tightly, demanding sharply: “Who is that man in there? You’ve only been back a few days and you’re already shacking up with a new guy?!”

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1 After ten years of grinding at the company, my boss, convinced my pregnancy was to blame for a drop in performance, tried to force me out. I filed a labor arbitration claim against him and cut off all my business partnerships. Eventually, the company went bankrupt, and the boss faced court enforcement. Desperate and cornered, he blamed everything on me. On the day I was supposed to give birth, he intentionally ran me over with his car in a fit of rage, killing me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my boss first started making my life hell. Suddenly, a few lines of comments popped up above my head: [The protagonist’s reborn! Go get ’em! Ruthlessly crush everyone, equally!] [Love watching the protagonist go insane, if it’s not messy, I’m not watching!] … I looked at the floating comments above my head, bewildered. The slight bump of my belly and my hurrying colleagues jolted me awake. I had been reborn! I gasped, taking deep, excited breaths, my eyes welling up. It’s real! It’s real! My baby’s still here. Amber frowned, her face etched with disdain. She rapped a file box sharply on my desk. “Manager Lee, are you dense?” she snapped. “I told you pregnant women aren’t suited for work. Look at you—I’m just trying to brief you on a project, and you start crying! Honestly, first thing in the morning, how unlucky!” Seeing me ignore her, Amber tossed a final remark over her shoulder as she sashayed away. “You can explain to the boss why your sales are down now that you’re pregnant.” I looked down at the date on my phone. On this very day in my previous life, the boss had sent his conniving assistant, Amber, to subtly torment me. At noon, he called me in, using my declining sales performance as an excuse to force me into early maternity leave, even though I was only five months pregnant. In the afternoon, he had me move out of my manager’s office and removed me from the company’s organizational chart. That evening, I received my termination notice. I had worked at this company for ten years; no one had more seniority than me, except the boss himself. The company had grown from a cramped storage room of less than 100 square feet to its current 20,000 square feet. Over those ten years of growth, I had contributed 70% of the company’s revenue. Yet, simply because I was pregnant with my second child at an older age, and my performance wasn’t what it used to be, I was forcibly laid off. My decade of dedication had been utterly wasted on a scumbag. In my previous life, after being laid off, I collected evidence and filed a labor arbitration lawsuit demanding legal compensation. I also severed ties between my loyal clients and the company’s business. Without my clientele, the company’s revenue plummeted, leading to its eventual collapse and bankruptcy. All of Leo’s assets were seized by the court to repay bank loans. Cornered and desperate, Leo blamed everything on me. On the day I was supposed to give birth, he ran me over with his car right outside the hospital in a fit of rage, killing me. Even after hitting me, he wasn’t satisfied, repeatedly running over my body with his car. Now, with a second chance at life, I absolutely would not let that tragedy repeat itself. At noon, in the conference room, lines of comments appeared before my eyes again. 2 [Don’t agree, protag, absolutely do NOT agree to maternity leave!] [This jerk is discarding you after using you, he deserves to rot in hell.] [Just send the boss to jail, then become the boss yourself.] I paused for a second. This time, I certainly wouldn’t agree to maternity leave. Sending the boss to jail seemed like a pretty good option. I declined the iced coffee Leo offered, making no comment on his forced maternity leave demand. “Thank you, Mr. King. The doctor advised me not to drink coffee.” Leo gave an awkward smile, while Amber stood by, seething. “Manager Lee, this coffee was specially handmade for you by Mr. King. Don’t be so ungrateful.” Leo lowered his gaze, smirking, tacitly approving Amber’s behavior. Just then, the comments popped up again. [Go get her, quickly, that scheming bitch! Roast them!] [Isn’t that bitch trying to usurp the original wife?] [Let that witch know the scumbag boss’s wife is pregnant. That’ll infuriate her.] I leaned back in my chair, half-joking, “Assistant Amber is still young. In a couple of days, when you get pregnant, the doctor will tell you if you can drink iced coffee.” Others might not know about the boss and his assistant’s frequent office rendezvous, but I certainly did. It wouldn’t be surprising if she ended up pregnant one day. It was just a pity for his long-suffering wife at home, toiling to give him a third child, a son to ‘honor the ancestors.’ Amber’s face turned green with rage. “Leo, fire her! Fire her now!” I stared coldly at Leo, speaking unhurriedly, “Mr. King, your wife must be seven months pregnant by now, right? You’ll be a dad of three soon. You must know what a pregnant woman can and cannot eat.” I paused, “Right, Mr. King?” Leo nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment. I turned to Amber, smirking. Amber’s eyes turned red with fury; she looked like she wanted to kill me. I let out a soft laugh, then pressed Leo further, raising my voice to ensure all my colleagues in the outer office could hear. “Mr. King, I’m an old-timer here, a loyal employee to the bone. No one knows my contributions over the years better than you.” My voice sharpened. “I know you’re considering my pregnancy and hard work, but are you really going to fire me just because I won’t drink iced coffee? Using someone and then discarding them isn’t your style, is it?” Playing the moral card, holding someone to account—who couldn’t do that? Outside, everyone was watching the drama unfold. Leo, losing face, could only bite his lip and scold Amber. This time, I wasn’t forced out of the manager’s office, though my approval authority was suspended. Leo also didn’t bring up maternity leave again. I was happy to enjoy my newfound leisure, opening the blinds daily to bask in the sun and sipping plain water. I followed the guidance of the comments, avoiding conflict and deliberately slacking off. I’m a person who finishes what I start, with efficiency. Even if I wasn’t pursuing new business, I still wanted to complete any unfinished tasks for my clients to give them a satisfactory conclusion. My position in the company was now awkward. Many colleagues, accustomed to sucking up, treated people differently based on their status. The water cooler in the office ran empty. I called the facilities team twice, but they ignored me. Left with no choice, I took my cup to the pantry for water, only to run into Amber. “Well, well, well, the old-timer pregnant employee is different, alright. She’s even coming to the pantry to sponge off company resources now.” I had to admit, she was good at provoking me, trying to get a rise out of me. I clenched my cup tightly, glaring at her, truly wanting to smash my thermos into her face. But I knew this little schemer was deliberately trying to anger me. I took a deep breath, calming myself. I kept reminding myself that it wasn’t time to go all out yet. Just endure a little longer. A colleague nearby, Sarah, couldn’t stand it and spoke up for me. “Assistant Amber, it’s normal for Manager Lee to come out for water if her office dispenser is empty.” Amber looked haughty. “Who are you? Don’t you want to work here anymore? She does nothing all day and expects others to change her water. Is she some kind of queen because she’s pregnant? Should everyone bow down to her?” The entire office fell silent. Everyone tried to make themselves scarce. The pantry faced Leo’s office, and a furious Leo, with visible scratch marks on his face, was now standing behind the blinds, watching us. Amber, a fresh graduate, daring to strut around the company like she owned it, was clearly a result of Leo’s implicit approval. Sarah’s face was grim. I narrowed my eyes, making a quiet decision. Half an hour later, Leo came out to make an example of me, clearly siding with Amber. 3 Leo wanted to fire Sarah, the colleague who had just spoken up for me, and demanded that I sign her termination papers. I refused. Amber, having been rebuffed, then had Leo personally accompany her to my office to question why I wouldn’t sign. “Sarah didn’t do anything wrong, and she didn’t resign voluntarily. Why should I sign it?” I challenged. “She’s still under contract. Just because she stood up for me this morning and argued with Assistant Amber, she’s going to be fired in retaliation?” Leo was speechless, his face flushed with anger. The two of them playing this card at such a crucial moment was truly malicious. Sarah had just helped me out this morning, and this afternoon I’m supposed to sign her termination? What would other employees think of me, Skylar? That I’m just like Leo, discarding people after using them? Ridiculous! Amber linked her arm through Leo’s, ostensibly scolding me, but actually fanning Leo’s anger. “Skylar, are you the boss, or is Mr. King the boss? You’re just a lowly employee. Since when does the company’s decisions fall to you?” She smirked. “Are you getting too big for your britches just because your past performance was good?” I noticed the comments section really hated Amber. Whenever she confronted me head-on, new comments would pop up, this time directly citing legal statutes. [Unjust dismissal of an employee during contract period: N+1 compensation. Employees cannot be terminated during pregnancy.] I chuckled, waving my hand at them. “Fine, do what you want. I just want to remind Mr. King: Sarah has been with the company for five years. If you fire her without cause, it’s N+1 compensation. Her base salary is $10,000. You guys can pay up!” I continued, “And I’ve been with the company for twelve years, with a base salary of $15,000. If Assistant Amber doesn’t like me, Mr. King, you can also fire me. Just pay the N+1 compensation.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “But you can’t fire an employee during pregnancy, otherwise it’s against the law, you know!” Amber’s face was livid. She brazenly declared, “Pay then, just pay! Take the money and get out! Pregnant women get double to get out!” Leo immediately slapped Amber across the face, then forced a smile. “What are you talking about? How could I fire you? Sarah’s situation, I simply misspoke.” Amber tried to say something else but clamped her mouth shut after a sharp glare from Leo. I provocatively raised an eyebrow at Amber, feeling like her lungs were about to explode. Leo currently didn’t dare to forcibly terminate me. He would only occasionally send Amber, his tool, to annoy me. And I, too, began to prepare my plan. Many employees at the company had elderly parents and young children, and Sarah’s incident today served as a warning. The external economic environment was tough, and everyone wanted to secure their jobs, unwilling to directly oppose the boss. It had to be said, Leo’s goal was achieved: all my colleagues at the company began to deliberately isolate me. In the department meeting, Leo pointed out that the sales sector I was responsible for had suffered losses and asked everyone for explanations. At first, everyone hung their heads in silence. Leo then directly called on Sarah. Sarah’s face changed dramatically, filled with apprehension for a few seconds, then she bit the bullet. “Manager Lee didn’t consider the company’s actual situation; she didn’t push down costs enough.” After Sarah sat down, various departments involved in different aspects of the process stood up one by one to speak. They all pointed to my personal issues as the cause of the losses. I snorted, watching their performance quietly. Finally, Leo even feigned asking me “why?” 4 Just then, comments popped up again. [It’s a trap! Just make them understand how hard your pregnancy is.] [Exactly, this jerk is just trying to pressure you. Play along.] I leaned lazily in my chair, answering nonchalantly. “I’m getting older, plus I’m pregnant. My body just can’t keep up. Hope everyone understands.” Leo was momentarily speechless. Other colleagues looked down, lost in thought. Just then, Amber, the boss’s mouthpiece, spoke up again. “Don’t use pregnancy as an excuse. If you can’t do the job, just get out and let someone capable take over as manager.” She then added, “Considering Manager Lee’s pregnancy, how about we cut her salary and reassign her role? All those who agree, please raise your hand.” I looked around. Besides Leo and me, everyone raised their hand. Another batch of comments appeared. [OMG, all that just to cut her salary and demote her.] [So disgusting. If the protagonist didn’t have a plan, I’d want her to smack that witch to death.] [Hurry up and get your revenge! I want to see that scumbag and witch bite the dust!] Amber’s face was filled with triumph. She deliberately tried to embarrass me. “It’s a unanimous vote, Skylar. What’s your take?” Comments: [Agree first, then screw them over.] I smiled faintly, forcing a grin. “No problem. I’ll follow the company’s arrangements.” Demotion and salary cut, then forcing me to resign? Excellent! Absolutely excellent! Afterward, many colleagues privately contacted me, apologizing for what happened today. I told them I understood. Some even urged me not to put up with the disdain and simply resign and go home to rest. My husband, seeing me on the phone all evening, asked worriedly if I needed help. I shook my head, refusing. It wasn’t time yet. After my demotion, I immediately posted on social media: “I’ve been reassigned and am no longer responsible for sales. If you need anything, please contact my other colleagues.” For the next two weeks, I lived like a pampered slug, focusing on my health. Because of my non-intervention, the company’s revenue dropped by half! Our company was sales-driven, and everyone, from front-line to support staff, had a salary structure of base pay plus performance bonuses. The more you did, the more you earned. With the sudden drop in revenue and poor performance, employees began to complain. Funds weren’t coming in, forcing them to take out loans to do business. The first to lose patience was Leo. “The company understands you’re pregnant, but why aren’t you handling any business? You need to write a 3,000-word self-reflection and present it at the department meeting.” He lectured, “Don’t slack off just because you’re pregnant. Powerful women in the workplace work until they give birth and then rest. You’re a modern woman; you can’t be lazy.” He added, “As sales manager, you need to set an example for your team.” Just then, the comments popped up angrily. [OMG, since when do modern women have to work until they give birth?] [I really want to slap him twice. He’s an animal with no upbringing.] [Don’t be scared, don’t be scared. The protagonist will take care of him. Let’s wait and see.] I was actually quite angry, but the comments made me laugh. I rolled my eyes, utterly speechless, and kindly reminded him. “Mr. King, you’re a busy man, so you forget things. I’m just an admin now, so I don’t have any performance targets.” I added with a saccharine smile, “And I’m not a ‘powerful woman.’ I need to go home early to prepare for childbirth.” Leo’s face flushed with embarrassment. He strategically took a sip of water. Just then, his phone rang. After he answered, his expression instantly changed. His previous worried frown transformed into a triumphant grin. “It’s good that you have that kind of awareness. The company can still run without you.” He scoffed, “Don’t be so arrogant. If you’re old, go home and rest. Women should prioritize their families.” Watching Leo’s smug retreating figure, I smiled. Excellent. The fish had taken the bait.

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When I was eighteen, I walked in on Connor Walker helping a scholarship student with her bra strap. He was a boy then, his expression serious, his movements clumsy and hesitant, the tips of his ears flushed scarlet. Eight years later, at twenty-six, I married Connor, a union mandated by our families. Yet, I was keenly aware of the whispers in Manhattan’s elite circles – how a portrait of that scholarship student was locked away in his study. Three years into our marriage, I suggested divorce. He signed the papers after a long, heavy silence. “If you ever need anything,” he’d said, his voice quiet, “don’t hesitate to ask.” Later, I walked into a gala, hand-in-hand with my law firm’s new partner. My best friend, Mark, teased, “You two were locked in a fierce debate in college, now who’d have thought you’d be intertwined like this?” Deep into the night, Connor’s number lit up my phone. “You insisted on that riverfront condo because you can see his law firm from there?” 1 Outside, the raw wind howled, but inside, the apartment was bathed in a comforting warmth. Across from me on the sofa, Connor sat, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, his long frame lean, his face still etched with the same strong lines as when he was eighteen. Only the fresh cut above his brow stood out, a jarring splash of red. An hour earlier, the precinct had called – Connor had been in a fight. When I arrived, Chloe Davis, our old high school classmate, was cradling his face, meticulously cleaning the wound. She looked up, startled, a wild bird, and flinched away. Connor immediately pulled her behind him, shielding her. “She’s easily spooked. Don’t scare her.” I said nothing, simply followed the officer to complete the paperwork. By the time I returned, Chloe was gone. On the drive home, Connor was on the phone the entire way, his voice soft, almost caressing, as he soothed the person on the other end. I had never seen him like that—his eyes gentle, filled with doting affection, utterly focused. Every ounce of his patience was reserved for Chloe. The thought of divorce, sharp and clear, sparked in my mind at that very moment. 2 Connor and I were childhood sweethearts, bound by years of shared memories. But Chloe Davis was his elusive “white moonlight,” the one he loved but could never have. In high school, Chloe had transferred to our exclusive academy on a scholarship. Her striking beauty and brilliant mind quickly captured Connor’s attention. Then came the day Chloe was accused of stealing class funds, her clothes torn off by a group of girls in a humiliating attack. I raced to the girls’ restroom, only to find Connor emerging from a stall, holding Chloe’s clothes. Chloe had her back to him, her voice thick with tears. “Just go, please. If anyone sees you, it’ll be impossible to explain.” But Connor simply said, “No need to explain. Just put your clothes on first.” Amidst the tense standoff, Chloe fumbled, panicked by the stubborn clasp of her bra. Connor didn’t hesitate. “Here, let me.” His expression was grim, his movements clumsy. When he finally fastened the clasp, his ear tips were flushed a fiery red. The moment he turned and our eyes met, a flicker of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by a calm command: “You help her now.” As he left, he added, “Keep this quiet.” I agreed, but by that afternoon, a photo of Connor helping Chloe with her clothes had spread like wildfire across campus. Connor was convinced I was the leak. For the first time, he unleashed his fury on me. “Layla, don’t think just because my parents favor you, I won’t do anything. You’re just the daughter-in-law they picked, not my choice!” I stood firm, defiance hardening my voice. “It wasn’t me!” He scoffed, a cold sneer twisting his lips. “Who else saw? You’re just jealous of her and me.” His words struck me like a blast of icy air. “When did you two…?” He impatiently cut me off. “You didn’t actually think me looking out for you meant I liked you, did you?” That night, the Walker family learned of the incident. Connor was dragged home and forced to apologize. He stood there, chin defiantly jutted out. “If you like Layla so much, why don’t you marry her?” He was met with a harsh punishment, physical in nature, from both parents. Back then, he hadn’t yet seen the truth: I was raised from childhood to be the future Mrs. Walker, and as the sole heir, he had no say in his own marriage. In the end, he married me. Chloe transferred schools, and he was sent abroad for eight years of higher education. When Connor returned eight years later, his aura had completely transformed. The boyish awkwardness was gone, replaced by a composed, reserved presence. He found me and proposed marriage. “Since we’re both still single, let’s just do it.” I knew I couldn’t escape the arranged marriage. Marrying someone I knew felt, at the time, like a stroke of luck. Later, I would discover that the first thing Connor did upon returning to the States was to seek out Chloe. But Chloe, with her fierce pride, had rejected him. Marrying me, it turned out, was nothing more than a childish act of spite directed at her. 3 “I have to go out. You should sleep first.” Connor’s words pulled me back from my thoughts. He rose and walked toward the door, his voice softening as he spoke into his phone, “Don’t be scared, I’m coming now, they won’t dare do anything… Mm, lock the door, wait for me.” I stood up too. “So late, and you’re still going out?” He paused briefly, a mere hitch in his stride, then continued toward the door. “Something urgent came up. I’ll be back very late.” Just as he reached the threshold, I called out to him again. A flicker of impatience crossed his face. “Something else?” “Connor,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” Fury instantly blazed in Connor’s eyes. He clenched his jaw, his voice strained. “What are you stirring up now?” “Chloe was startled today. She has no one else here, so she could only turn to me for help.” I looked at him, my gaze unwavering. “Helping her means going to her upscale club every day to back her up?” My voice rose. “The esteemed Mr. Walker, getting into a brawl and ending up at the precinct for a club employee – that’s your idea of helping?” Connor’s thin lips formed a cold, hard line. His deep-set eyes held a dangerous warning. “I’ll get to the bottom of what happened tonight.” He paused, then added, his voice chillingly low, “And it better have nothing to do with you.” It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. My blood ran cold. In the two-plus years of our marriage, Connor had never once lost his temper with me. It had almost made me believe he’d moved on from Chloe, that he truly wanted to build a life with me. Now, it was clear I had been hopelessly naive. A sudden memory surfaced. Connor’s study had once held a portrait of Chloe. He had painted it himself. He hadn’t hidden it from anyone, not even his family. Grandpa Walker had thrown a colossal fit over it, eventually settling for a compromise: our wedding photo, mine and Connor’s, hung in the study instead. The portrait of Chloe, he had locked away in a cabinet. In that moment, I suddenly understood: he had not compromised. He was simply, in his own way, silently defying his family. Outside, the wind howled fiercely. The balcony door in the dining room had been left open, and a rush of cold air swept in, making me shiver uncontrollably. Just then, Connor’s phone emitted a sharp, piercing shriek. Almost simultaneously, the icy darkness in Connor’s eyes shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fear. He strode quickly toward the door. “Chloe, don’t be afraid, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t open the door for anyone…” As he spoke, he was already out the door. The door opened and closed, sealing off all his fleeting tenderness. That night, Connor never came back. I sat alone on the sofa until dawn. As the sky brightened, two messages landed on my phone. One was a photo of Connor and Chloe walking side-by-side into a hotel. The other was a single line of text: “Divorce him. Pick me instead, okay?” Scrolling up, I found three unread messages: “Layla, I’m back.” “Whenever you need me, I’m here.” “Do you love him that much? Could you love me instead?” I blinked my burning, tired eyes, then quickly tapped a few words onto the screen: “Okay.” 4 Connor arrived home the next afternoon. He was wearing a brand-new suit, a brand he would normally never even glance at. He looked immaculate, not a trace of perfume on him. If it weren’t for the glaring red marks on his throat, perhaps no one would have believed that he and Chloe had stayed in that hotel room until the afternoon. Likely out of guilt, he had brought me a gift. “I’m sorry. I said some harsh things last night. I apologize.” He placed the gift in front of me. I pulled out the divorce papers, already prepared, from a drawer and slowly slid them across to him. “Take a look. If everything’s in order, sign them.” Connor’s brows furrowed. “Just helping an old classmate, and you’re making this a big deal? Layla, when did you get so petty?” I ignored his words. “Our prenuptial agreement dictates that our pre-marital assets remain separate. As for post-marital cash, it’s a fifty-fifty split. And for the houses, I only want the riverfront condo.” Connor finally looked at me directly, his deep eyes filled with probing inquiry. After a long moment, he gave a cold laugh. “Is this your new tactic?” He didn’t believe me. He thought this was just another attempt to win him back, to manipulate him. And of course, the Walker family’s position in the social elite was unshakeable. How many old families would have done anything to marry their daughters into it? In his eyes, I had no reason to give up the title of Mrs. Walker. But I had considered giving up long ago. It was a perfectly ordinary day. Connor, as usual, had been out entertaining clients, returning home completely drunk. As I helped him, he suddenly pointed at me and snarled, “Layla, your affection disgusts me.” I froze. A bitter, suffocating ache filled my chest. I distinctly remembered him liking me too. That year, in freshman high school, Connor and I weren’t in the same class. Our classrooms were directly across the hall from each other. When an earthquake hit the neighboring state, we felt the strong tremors here. That day, Connor was the first person to burst out of his classroom, sprint into mine, and wrap his school jacket around my head. He practically dragged and lifted me, pulling me downstairs. That earthquake caused no damage, and my only injury was the bruising on my wrist from his desperate grip. His friends used to tease him, saying I was his most valuable possession. They even joked about us getting married on the spot. I expected Connor to get angry, but instead, he said, “We will get married.” “Oh, come on, don’t speak too soon! You’re still years away from legal age!” But Connor had declared, “If I get married and she’s not by my side, none of you better show up.” When we married, all his friends came. But what did it matter? 5 Connor was convinced I was playing a game, using reverse psychology to threaten him. He sat across from me, his gaze cold and indifferent. Every time we’d argued before, I was always the one to back down first. So he assumed this time, too, I would soften and yield. But what he didn’t know was that I was absolutely determined to leave. I pulled the divorce papers closer, gripping the pen. Under his chilling stare, I flipped to the last page and signed my name. Then I handed him the pen. “If there are no issues, just sign here.” At that moment, Connor finally realized I wasn’t joking. He lowered his gaze, his voice incredibly deep, almost a whisper. “Are you sure?” I glanced at my watch. “If we go to City Hall now, we can still make the last appointment.” He didn’t speak, just stared at me, his dark eyes searching for a flaw in my resolve. I don’t know how long passed, but finally, he lowered his gaze. “Then let’s do it.” He signed his name. His pen paused suddenly. “Grandpa’s birthday gala is next month. I hope we can keep our divorce quiet until after that.” I had no objection. I stood up and pulled out the suitcase I’d packed long ago from the corner. “Layla.” His voice softened, losing some of its cold edge. “You can continue living here.” “No need.” If we were divorcing, there was no reason to maintain any ties. “If you ever need anything in the future,” he added, “don’t hesitate to ask.” I didn’t linger. As I reached the front door, he quickly followed. “I’ll drive you.” “No, someone’s already coming to pick me up.” Downstairs, I saw a tall figure standing under the streetlamp in the distance. The moment he spotted me, he strode forward, his long legs covering the ground quickly, and naturally took my suitcase. Once in the car, I looked at the proud, elegant man in the driver’s seat. “Jackson Reed,” I said, “give me one month.” Jackson chuckled softly, then leaned over, reaching for my seatbelt. “Just one month. I can wait.” 6 Jackson Reed and I were college classmates. Both top students in the law school, we were peers, and competitors. We met during a major debate competition. The topic was: If you had the superpower to make someone love you back, would you use it? Jackson and I were on opposing sides, and that debate was fierce. In the end, my side won. After the debate, he stopped me. “If I had that power, I’d use it without hesitation.” I was young and headstrong then, full of proud defiance. My words aimed directly at his heart. “Then you don’t deserve to be loved.” Jackson looked at me deeply. “I love her, but I also respect her. As long as I don’t give up, she’ll see me.” I smiled meaningfully. “So even the brilliant scholar has an unrequited love, huh?” He said nothing, just watched me in silence. Later, we started interacting more frequently through student council, constantly clashing, outwitting each other at every turn. Over four years, we surprisingly became good friends. On graduation day, Jackson asked me out for a drink. I went. He asked me what my plans were after graduation. I said, half-joking, “What else? For people from families like ours, it’s marriage, kids, and securing long-term partnerships for the family business.” Jackson looked at me very seriously. “Can you wait, then? Five years at most. Can you wait for me?” The bar was too loud. I didn’t actually hear what he said clearly. I drained my glass. Almost the instant I set it down, Jackson leaned in and kissed me. That day, I fled. Not because of Jackson’s boundary-crossing action, but because I realized I was attracted to him, and I had responded. I was terrified of that feeling of losing control. I turned off my phone, cutting off all contact with the outside world. A week later, when I finally reconnected with my classmates, I learned that Jackson had gone abroad for advanced studies. He was gone for four years. Now he was back, and I was a married woman. 7 “We’re here.” I snapped back to reality, realizing the car had pulled up outside my apartment building. As I stepped out, he followed. My suitcase was in his hand; he showed no intention of giving it back. We entered the elevator and went up to my floor. At my front door, he didn’t step inside. “Layla, want to open a law firm with me?” I was surprised he’d suggest such a thing. After marrying Connor, I’d stopped practicing law. As Mrs. Walker, it wasn’t appropriate to be in the public eye frequently or to do anything that might tarnish the Hayes or Walker family names. For years, I’d just managed small businesses, gradually forgetting I was once a law student. The moment Jackson brought it up, I admit, my heart stirred. But I quickly dismissed the idea. “I’m an amateur now. I’d only drag you down.” Jackson had thrived over the years, a rising star everyone in the legal world was betting on. At parties, old classmates spoke of Jackson with envy: “Jackson Reed, the hotshot partner, is earning seven figures a year, pushing for eight. You folks dragging the industry down should really reflect on yourselves.” Jackson didn’t see it that way. “You can do it, Layla. You always could.” He reminded me of our campus days, of my fierce competitive spirit, of the times I’d cornered him in debates, leaving him speechless. “Layla,” he said, “since you’re starting a new life, why not take one more step forward?” His words swayed me. As I approached thirty, I found the courage to live for myself. The following days, my life became a blur. I was out early and home late every day. It was exhausting, but I felt an unprecedented sense of fulfillment. It wasn’t until I received a call from Grandpa Walker that I realized a whole month had simply vanished. “Layla, what have you been so busy with lately? Why haven’t you come to see your grandpa?” The Walker family elders had always been kind to me. Grandpa Walker especially so. There were no granddaughters in this generation of the Walker family, and Grandpa Walker would have showered me with everything good. I explained I’d been busy with work. He said, “Day after tomorrow is Grandpa’s eightieth birthday. Don’t forget. Oh, and your grandmother ordered a custom gown for you, sent it to the estate. When you have a moment, see if it fits.” I nodded repeatedly, chatted a bit more, then hung up. The estate Grandpa Walker mentioned was the Walker family’s wedding gift to Connor and me, quite a distance from the city center. For convenience, we usually stayed at The Bayview Lofts. After work, I drove back to the estate to pick up the gown. Divorce was one thing, but showing respect to elders was another. Arriving at the house, I headed straight for the walk-in closet. The housekeeper said my gown had been put away there. The walk-in closet was in the master suite, but for convenience, there was a separate door to it from the hallway. Just as I reached the door, the master suite door swung open without warning. Chloe Davis appeared before me. Seeing me, she recoiled like a startled rabbit, looking flustered. “Ms. Hayes?” I nodded, not intending to linger, and continued walking. I hadn’t taken two steps when Connor’s lazy voice drifted from behind me: “Who are you talking to…” His voice suddenly cut off. I felt a hot gaze on my back. I turned, nodding blandly at him. “Just came back to pick up the gown Grandpa sent.” Connor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you get it?” “I’m just going to,” I replied. I entered the walk-in closet and found the gown in the bottom drawer. Without lingering, I quickly left. But as I reached the turn in the staircase, Connor called out. “Layla, next time you plan to come here, give me a heads-up.” He leaned against the railing on the second floor, his shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, revealing clear scratches and hickeys. “Chloe is sensitive. You showing up like this makes her very uncomfortable.” I pursed my lips. “While I understand your urgency, we’re not divorced yet. If this gets to the family estate, it’ll be difficult for you to explain.” Before he could speak, I added, “Tomorrow is the day we finalize the divorce. Don’t be late.”

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1 At my birthday gala, Lucian suddenly ushered in a young woman, introducing her as an inexperienced intern. She “clumsily” spilled my cake, then “thoughtlessly” adorned herself with my necklace. Yet, Lucian’s only retort was always, “She’s still so young.” It wasn’t until she “naively” climbed into Lucian’s bed, then “innocently” knelt before me, heavily pregnant, saying, “Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne said if you couldn’t give him a child, I would…” I finally gave Lucian two icy choices: “Either she ends the pregnancy, or we end our marriage.” Lucian, his face etched with guilt, explained, “Grandfather Thorne decreed that only a woman who bears an heir can be the Mrs. Thorne. But your uterus is damaged. Skylar’s child… will be formally adopted by you. Eleanor, I only love you too much!” Later, when Lucian joyfully brought their son home to the Thorne estate, he was still trying to reason with me: “Just be understanding, Grandfather Thorne only wants to see them. It won’t affect your standing.” I nodded, obliging, not a tear or protest. The moment he left, I dialed his rival’s number. “I accept your offer. Being a mother to someone else’s child, it’s all the same, isn’t it?” When Lucian walked in, cradling the infant, Skylar and Grandfather Thorne followed close behind. The baby was tiny, swaddled in a blanket embroidered with gold thread. Lucian looked down at the child in his arms, his gaze so tender it stung. “Eleanor.” He looked up, his tone flat, as if announcing something utterly inconsequential, “The baby will live here from now on.” My heart twisted with bitterness, but words failed me. Just three months prior, he had knelt before me, pleading with me not to divorce him, explicitly promising that once Skylar gave birth, she would be transferred to a branch office, never to interfere with our lives. Yet now, he had brazenly brought the mother and child into our marital home. A fragile belief, already teetering on the brink, finally shattered within me. Skylar stood behind Grandfather Thorne, watching me with feigned timidity. For a mother, she was still just as “naive,” unable to even offer a greeting. Finding it tiresome, I turned to go upstairs. She called out, her voice laced with a sob, “Sister, I know you hate me, but the baby is innocent… please, be kind to him in the future.” Lucian frowned, stepping in front of her, his tone tinged with reproach: “Eleanor, don’t frighten Skylar.” I scoffed. How was it that merely standing there made me the villain? Grandfather Thorne hobbled over, tapping the baby’s cheek, his smile indulgent: “This child looks just like Lucian did as a boy. Clearly a Thorne, through and through.” When he turned to me, his eyes turned cold: “You can’t bear a child. We can’t just let the Thorne line end, can we?” I lowered my gaze, my nails digging savagely into my palms, the pain a dull throb. Lucian finally looked at me, his voice softening slightly: “Eleanor, the baby needs breast milk. Once he’s weaned… I’ll arrange for Skylar to move out!” I suddenly felt like laughing. This was his own promise, yet now he delivered it with the tone of a patron? I was about to say it wasn’t necessary, when Skylar interrupted, “Mr. Thorne, quick, look! The baby seems hungry…” Lucian immediately turned, skillfully supporting the baby’s head as he murmured soothing words. I stood there, feeling utterly like an outsider. … Late that night, Lucian finally returned to our room. He carried the faint scent of baby milk and Skylar’s perfume. As the mattress dipped, I turned my back to him. His hand settled on my waist. “Eleanor, don’t be stubborn.” I didn’t move. He sighed, then spoke, seemingly to himself: “Grandfather is old; he just wants a great-grandson… we already agreed, didn’t we? Once the baby is a little older, he’ll be legally adopted by you. You’ll still be Mrs. Thorne!” I opened my eyes, staring at a point in the darkness, and asked softly, “Lucian, do you remember why I can’t have children?” His breath hitched. Three years ago, during that car crash, I lunged to shield him from a fatal blow. When the doctors said I might never conceive again, he swore, his eyes red-rimmed: “Eleanor, all I need is you.” Now, he had secretly gotten another woman pregnant, then used the pretense of adoption to ensure her smooth delivery, and finally… brought the child into our home. All under the guise of wanting to give me a child. … The next morning, Skylar was already seated in my designated chair at the dining table, holding the baby. Lucian sat beside her, gently coaxing the infant, his expression soft. Grandfather Thorne chuckled, saying, “This child is so well-behaved, truly blessed.” Skylar shyly lowered her gaze: “Grandfather, the baby cried all night. Mr. Thorne only managed to get him to sleep past midnight…” Lucian smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. So this was the picture of a happy, harmonious family of three. I turned to head upstairs, but Grandfather Thorne’s voice, brooking no argument, stopped me: “From today, Skylar and the baby will reside in the master suite.” I froze. No matter how many, or how spacious, the rooms in the mansion, there was only one master suite. Lucian abruptly stood up: “Grandfather!” But Grandfather Thorne sharply rapped his cane: “What? You’d inconvenience my great-grandson for a woman who can’t lay an egg?” Lucian fell silent. Skylar stood behind Grandfather Thorne, cradling the baby, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. Too weary to argue, I turned back to the room, mechanically packing my belongings. Lucian suddenly entered, grabbing my hand. “Eleanor! Don’t do this…” I looked up at him, my eyes utterly devoid of emotion. “Lucian,” I said softly, “If I don’t leave, are we four supposed to squeeze into one bed?” 2 His face faltered slightly. He said nothing, but his grip on my hand loosened. The answer was glaringly obvious. As I carried my suitcase downstairs, Skylar stood in the living room, holding the baby. With a facade of apology, she suggested, “Sister, the guest room is so spacious and comfortable. There’s no need to move out!” She clearly wanted to witness the drama of a wife being demoted to a concubine, but I had no intention of indulging her. “No need. I wish you,” I glanced at the baby in her arms, my voice laced with hidden meaning, “and the Thorne family’s flesh and blood, a long and prosperous life.” I deliberately emphasized “flesh and blood,” watching her feigned smile freeze for a fraction of a second. She was, of course, nowhere near as simple-minded as Lucian claimed. At least in front of me, adjusting her expression was a matter of milliseconds. “Sister, don’t say that. Mr. Thorne still cares about you most deeply…” Before she could finish, I was already at the door. It was a perfect storm; my marriage had ruptured, and the deluge arrived right on cue. I stood there, watching the pouring rain, for a long while. Lucian didn’t come after me. The water streaming down my cheeks—I couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears. My phone suddenly lit up. Lucian, from behind the closed door, sent me a message: [Eleanor, you’re not as understanding as you used to be. Go stay in the executive apartment provided by the company for now. Once you’ve calmed down, I’ll come get you.] I let out a hollow laugh. I calmly stepped into the rain, hailed a cab, and left. Perhaps because I had already made my plans, Lucian’s full immersion into fatherhood didn’t stir much emotion in me anymore. After two days of silence, I returned to the mansion to retrieve the last of my belongings. Skylar sat in the living room, draped in my silk robe. “Sister, you’re back?” She gently patted the baby in her arms, parading him like a prized possession. I headed straight upstairs, unwilling to exchange another word with her. But the moment I pushed open the master bedroom door, my composure shattered. The sheets had been changed to her preferred taupe, and my vanity was laden with skincare products that weren’t mine. The gowns I’d worn to countless meetings and events with him… were haphazardly stuffed into a corner of the closet. In their place hung Skylar’s dresses. Even the wedding photo above the bed had been replaced with their family portrait—Lucian cradling the baby, the woman nestled against his shoulder, her smile dazzling and sickeningly happy. I bit down hard on my lower lip, gasping for breath to keep the stinging tears at bay. It was then I realized that saying goodbye to a relationship didn’t always require a dramatic breakdown. Once calm, I entered the private vault and retrieved my mother’s urn. As I descended the stairs, I heard Skylar on the phone. “Mr. Thorne, the baby misses you…” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Yes, Eleanor came back for her things. The baby and I will get along just fine with her…” I scoffed. Three days living here, and she already acted more like the lady of the house than I, his wife of three years, ever did. No wonder she’d usurped me. As I walked out, Skylar suddenly called my name: “Sister!” She scurried over, pushing the baby in her arms towards me. Her smile was feigned innocence. “Do you want to hold the baby? Get a head start on feeling like a mother…” Though the infant was innocent, the stain on my marriage turned my stomach. “No, thanks.” I turned and walked away. Behind me, she inexplicably stumbled, shrieking as she fell backward— “Ah!” I instinctively spun around, reaching out to catch her. But she deliberately swung her shoulder, knocking the urn from my grasp. The ceramic urn shattered on the marble floor with a sickening crash, splitting into two halves, grey-white ashes scattering across the tiles. I froze, then heard a furious roar from behind me: “Eleanor! What are you doing?!” Lucian stormed in, roughly shoving me aside. He anxiously helped Skylar up. “Are you alright?” Skylar, her eyes red-rimmed, shook her head: “I’m fine… thankfully, I protected the baby. Mr. Thorne, it’s true I’m an intruder, so Sister Eleanor pushing me to vent her anger is understandable…” Lucian turned to me, his gaze complex: “An intruder? Eleanor, how many times have I told you, it was my idea to have Skylar move in…” I stared blankly at my mother’s ashes, spread across the floor. I knelt, my eyes burning red. “Momma…” But he, mistaking my grief for an excuse for pushing Skylar, irritably loosened his tie: “Every time we argue, you cry and call for your mother. Have you ever considered that your mother, in heaven, would want you to be a proper lady of the house?” Skylar, feigning concern, edged closer: “Sister, I’m so sorry. I broke the baby formula you bought for the baby. How much do I owe you…?” “No need!” Lucian cut her off, glaring coldly at me. “How dare she use anything she bought for the baby? As for you, Skylar, did she do anything to you while I was away?” Watching him dote so carefully on Skylar, I suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary. There was no longer any point in explaining. “Lucian,” I said softly, “Let’s get a divorce.” 3 His face instantly contorted. “What nonsense are you spouting now?!” I produced the divorce papers I’d already prepared and placed them on the coffee table. “Sign them,” I said. “You made your choice a long time ago.” He seized my wrist. “I told you! Skylar and I aren’t what you think! You’re the one I love!” His desperation was suddenly pathetic. “Then make her move out,” I said, enunciating each word. “Immediately. Now.” He froze. Skylar’s timely sob broke the silence: “Mr. Thorne, don’t argue with Sister Eleanor… the baby was just startled and spit up…” Lucian released my hand. “Eleanor! You can be angry with me, but you shouldn’t push a woman holding a baby!” His reprimand was a blunt blade, cruelly severing my last thread of hope. I watched him turn and hurry toward Skylar. I finally had to admit that in Lucian’s heart, I would always come second to that mother and child. Standing on the roadside, I suddenly remembered our wedding day, and Lucian’s vows before the minister: “To love only you, for the rest of my life.” Thinking about it now, his ‘rest of his life’ was remarkably brief. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Lucian: [Just stop being difficult, and you’ll always be Mrs. Thorne.] I smiled faintly and blocked all his contacts. Always? From the moment he secretly got Skylar pregnant, there was no ‘always’ for us. 4 Before leaving Bayview City, I went to the company to complete my resignation handover. As I looked at the company Lucian and I had built from the ground up, a tide of reluctance surged within me. But I knew, there was no place for me here anymore. The glass wall still displayed “Never Give Up,” a motto we’d written together. In the break room, the old coffee maker from our startup days still sat there. But now, his world held things far more important. That child, that woman, that so-called “family.” Ms. Davis, her eyes red-rimmed, helped me clear out my office. “Ms. Sterling, Mr. Thorne certainly wants you to enjoy a life of leisure at home, but if you’re truly leaving, I’ll miss you terribly… Does Mr. Thorne know about your resignation?” Her final question was a probe. She also knew that ever since Lucian had an intern assistant, the Thorne household had been in turmoil. “Of course, it’s all been made clear.” I tucked the last file into a box. The moment I stood up, my vision suddenly swam. I instinctively clutched the desk. Ms. Davis gasped, “Ms. Sterling, you look terrible!” … Hospital lights are always so unsettling. The moment I opened my eyes, Ms. Davis leaned in, her face alight with barely contained joy: “Ms. Sterling, you’re pregnant! Six weeks along!” I froze, my fingers unconsciously tracing my lower abdomen. A child… here? A child who arrived so suddenly, just as I decided to leave… Ms. Davis continued to chatter excitedly, but her words were a dull buzz in my ears. Did Lucian know? Would he, for this child… My phone suddenly vibrated, Lucian’s name flashing on the screen. I answered with a trembling hand, and before I could speak, his enraged roar ripped through the phone: “Eleanor! Why would you do something like this?!” I froze. “What?” “Skylar found a doll under the baby’s crib!” His voice was glacial. “It had pins stuck in it and the baby’s birth date written on it!” I let out a humorless laugh. So that was it. He hadn’t called to check on me after I collapsed; he had called to accuse me. “Lucian,” I said calmly, “Do you remember what today is?” Silence hung on the other end for a beat. “Three years ago today, you were in that car crash. I lunged to shield you.” My voice was barely a whisper. “The doctors said I might never be able to conceive again. But now, I’m…” The sound of something shattering on the other end drowned out the word “pregnant” that left my lips. On his end, Lucian rushed to comfort someone nearby. “There, there, don’t cry. I’ll make this right for you and the baby.” Only then did he ask, “What did you just say? I didn’t hear you!” I suddenly felt there was no point in saying anything more. I hung up. “Ms. Davis,” I said softly, “Don’t tell anyone about my pregnancy yet.” She looked at me, stunned. “But Mr. Thorne…” “Especially not Lucian.” I stroked my flat stomach, and finally, tears fell. “This child… has nothing to do with him anymore.” … The sunset outside the window bled red, like spilled blood. It was like Lucian, three years ago, holding my blood-soaked body, crying out, “Eleanor, it’s okay if we don’t have children. But I can’t lose you!” Now, he had pushed both the child and me away. 5 The moment I managed to push myself up into a sitting position, the hospital room door burst open. Grandfather Thorne hobbled in, leaning on his ebony cane, two bodyguards flanking him. “Eleanor Sterling!” The cane slammed heavily against my bed rail. “You viper! Now the baby is in the ICU, are you satisfied?” I couldn’t stop a bitter laugh from escaping. When Lucian and I had struggled to build the company, he used to affectionately call me “Granddaughter-in-law.” Now that someone else had borne him a great-grandson, I was a viper. My voice was hoarse. “If the baby is in the ICU, perhaps you should be waiting by the operating room door.” Enraged, the old man swung his cane, striking hard against the back of my hand where the IV drip was inserted. The needle was ripped out. Beads of blood welled up and rolled down the back of my hand. “Still feigning innocence!” he raged. “I consulted a spiritual master! It was that cursed doll of yours! Now the baby’s lungs are filled with blood, you—” He choked on his words, nearly collapsing. The bodyguards immediately steadied him. I looked at the raving old man and felt only sorrow. He didn’t know that the child in my womb was his only great-grandchild. I looked at him, incredulous: “You think I would curse an infant?” Lucian stood just behind Grandfather Thorne, but he made no move to speak. “Stop making excuses!” Grandfather Thorne gasped, straightening up. “The master said this is a ‘matriarchal curse.’ To break it, the matriarch who cast it must have her head shaved clean.” He didn’t give me time to process the absurd demand, instead gesturing to the bodyguards, “Hold her down.” I was so weak; did they even need to hold me? Yet I still looked at the figure behind him, suddenly desperate to know: who would Lucian choose this time? As the bodyguard produced the scissors, Lucian finally moved— He took a step back. That single step brought tears of laughter to my eyes. He averted his gaze, his voice trembling: “Eleanor, just for the sake of the baby…” My heart turned to ice. As the razor touched my scalp, I smiled. “Do you remember three years ago, when I had to shave my head after my injury?” The blade already sliced through the first strand of hair. Black strands floated silently onto the stark white sheets. “Back then, I thought I was ugly, hiding in my room for three months, refusing to see you. You stood outside my door for three months, speaking through it every day—” Lucian’s body suddenly convulsed. “—saying that once my hair grew back, you’d comb it for me every day, buy me the best hair oil, and promise I’d never grow a single grey strand.” Memories flooded back like a tide—how could we not have been in love? Back then, he’d bring me different hair growth recipes every day, nurturing my hair with endless care. And now… for a baseless accusation, they were simply shaving it all away… Lucian suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the bodyguard’s hand, his voice raw: “Stop!” But it was too late. Amidst the grief, warm liquid began to stream down my thighs. I looked down and saw beads of blood hitting the floor, one by agonizing one. Lucian’s gaze followed mine, and his face instantly turned ashen: “Eleanor?!” He trembled as he pulled back the blanket, his whole body swaying the moment he saw the blood. “This is…”

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1 My husband, David, and his sister, Michelle, brought a girl home, claiming she was Daisy, our daughter, who’d vanished three years ago. The girl’s face did bear a resemblance to Daisy—maybe a five-point match, as they say—but a cold certainty settled in my gut. “David Miller,” I said, my voice flat, “I’m not so out of touch I wouldn’t recognize my own child.” Yet, he swore it was her. He even had a paternity test report, but I refused to believe it. I took the little girl’s image to the media, hoping to find her real family. I even involved the police. David couldn’t stand my persistence. He had me committed to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, a stranger online inexplicably tagged me, claiming to know Daisy’s whereabouts. I clicked the link. The address led to a secluded, rural property. In the video, a little girl, emaciated and covered in grime, mimicked a hog, scrabbling for scraps of feed. Her eyes were wide with a terror that clawed at my heart, and she even let out guttural grunts, mimicking the animals. Her face was identical to my missing Daisy. The moment I saw this girl, the one David brought home, I knew, with every fiber of my being, she wasn’t my daughter. I raced to the Sheriff’s Department. “Ms. Miller,” the deputy said, his tone weary. “This case is closed. Your husband has repeatedly confirmed this is your child. Please, don’t misuse public resources.” No matter how I explained, how I pleaded that the little girl was not my child, no one believed me. The officers watched me with an air of polite exasperation. Of course, they wouldn’t. A paternity test had confirmed the five-point resemblance was indeed my daughter. A moment later, David arrived, striding into the precinct. He grabbed my hand, his eyes burning with anger, but he quickly masked it with an apologetic smile for the officers. “My apologies, officers. My wife… since our daughter disappeared, she’s been quite distressed. Her mental state isn’t quite stable.” He tried to tug me away. I erupted, yanking my hand free. “Enough!” I cried, tossing the official case closure document at him. “How could I not know what my own daughter looks like? This isn’t Daisy! Daisy doesn’t look like this!” An officer intervened gently, “Children change as they grow, ma’am. It’s been over three years since your daughter vanished.” David’s voice softened, laced with a feigned helplessness as he looked at me. “Sarah, I know Daisy’s disappearance has haunted you, left you sleepless. Now that she’s finally back, why won’t you believe her? She is our daughter. Please, let’s not make a scene. What will others think of her, seeing you like this?” Every eye in the room fell on me, scrutinizing me as if I were truly a madwoman. Three years ago, our family went hiking with David’s sister, Michelle, and her family. My daughter, Daisy, and Michelle’s child, Chloe, went ahead to scout the trail. That’s when Daisy mysteriously disappeared. The police searched endlessly, but she was never found. Every waking moment since, I’ve been consumed by her absence. At night, as soon as I close my eyes, her face fills my vision. The little girl David brought back from the authorities, while resembling Daisy, had an entirely different personality and even the most basic habits were off. I couldn’t understand why every family member, even David, insisted she was our daughter. David led me home. The moment he opened the door, the girl rushed towards me. “Mommy!” she chirped, her voice overly sweet. “The relatives brought so much crab! Daisy loves crab! It’s so fresh and sweet. Mommy, do you want to try some?” She hugged my leg. A jolt of revulsion shot through me, leaving my body rigid. Instinctively, I pushed her away. She stumbled, falling to the floor, and instantly burst into tears. “Mommy, don’t you love Daisy anymore?” Seeing her fall, David quickly scooped her up, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at me. “Sarah Miller, that’s enough! This is our daughter! Why are you kicking her like some maniac?!” The girl clung to David’s neck, whimpering softly, “Daddy, it’s okay. I know Mommy hasn’t accepted me yet.” She reached out a hand towards me. I grabbed her wrist, my grip tight. “Who are you, really? Why are you pretending to be my daughter?” Tears streamed down her face. She sobbed piteously, burying her face against David’s shoulder. “Daddy, why won’t Mommy believe I’m Daisy…?” David carried her to the sofa, calming her. Then he strode back, grabbing my arm, dragging me forcefully to stand before the girl. He released me with a shove, throwing me off balance, and I landed hard on the floor. I looked up. The girl’s lips curved into a fleeting, triumphant smirk. A moment later, her voice turned saccharine again. “Daddy, you hurt Mommy.” “Mommy, I really am Daisy! Look at my necklace. We picked out the beads together at the jewelry store. It’s our secret.” I scrambled forward, frantically examining the necklace around her neck. Her tears flowed anew, uncontrolled. “Mommy, I really didn’t lie! I’m Daisy! Don’t you want me anymore?” I froze. The necklace… it was the one Daisy and I had chosen together. Even the yellow crystal on it had a faint crack, just like I remembered. Just as I was about to question her further, David pulled me roughly away, separating us. “Sarah Miller, that’s enough! You’re questioning our daughter over and over again! She’s been through so much these past few years. It’s perfectly normal for her personality to have changed!” I knew David loved our daughter fiercely. From her infancy, he’d handled everything—her diapers, her outfits. He was devoted. I just couldn’t fathom why he couldn’t recognize his own child. I even began to wonder if my own mind was truly unraveling, but when she touched me, I felt a visceral revulsion I couldn’t control. Just then, David’s adoptive sister, Michelle, arrived. Michelle had always doted on Daisy, spending as much time with her as I did, if not more. 2 When I saw Michelle, it was like seeing a lifeline. “Michelle,” I pleaded, my voice cracking, “Look at this girl! She’s not Daisy, is she?” Michelle’s face registered a flicker of surprise, then an awkward glance at the girl. “Sarah, are you… are you seeing things? This is Daisy.” She even pulled out her phone, showing me photos of Daisy taken years ago, comparing them. It was strange. I remembered Daisy looking differently three years ago, but all the photos Michelle showed me now featured this girl’s face. A cold dread seeped into my bones, a chilling sense of unease spreading through me. David, holding the girl’s hand, looked at me with a mocking glint in his eyes. Just as I was about to speak, the front door opened. My mom had returned from her small town. I felt a surge of desperate hope, clutching her hand tightly. “Mom, you see it, don’t you? She’s not Daisy.” My mom pulled out her phone, carefully comparing the photos. Then, she shook her head slowly. I saw her reaction. Mother knows best, I thought. She must feel it too. But then, she sighed, her gaze filled with a weary sadness. “Sarah, honey, have you been worrying too much about Daisy lately? Are you starting to imagine things?” “This is your daughter, Daisy. You can’t even recognize her. I think you’re really sick, dear. It worries me, you’re still so young…” Her comforting words continued, but my mind was a maelstrom of frantic thoughts. “I’m not sick! She’s not my daughter!” But no matter what I said, everyone stared at me with startled eyes, as if mocking me, the madwoman. A memory flashed in my mind. Daisy had a small, heart-shaped birthmark on her lower back. I refused to believe this girl had it too. I grabbed her, pulling her shirt up. She struggled, resisting frantically, and her shirt accidentally tore. She began to cry, small, helpless whimpers. David instantly scooped her into his arms, then slapped me. My mother, horrified, stepped forward. “Sarah Miller, when did you become so unreasonable? This is your own flesh and blood!” David carried the girl away. I stood there, stunned. I had seen it. The birthmark was there. How? Had I misremembered? Was my daughter’s mark not what I thought? They looked similar, but the eyes, the eyebrows, the chin… they were all wrong. My Daisy had a round face, but this girl’s face was slightly longer. I frantically searched for photos, but every picture I remembered, every image of Daisy in my mind, had been replaced by this girl’s face. Then I remembered. Daisy and Michelle’s daughter, Chloe, were very close. They were together that day when Daisy mysteriously disappeared. I turned to ask Michelle, but she wasn’t there. I tried to call her, but my call wouldn’t go through. My messages on the chat app came back with a red exclamation mark. Why? She had just been here a moment ago. 3 David took the girl directly to his parents’ house, clearly to keep me from “going crazy” again. Still refusing to believe she was my daughter, I started posting messages online, hoping her real parents would see them. The posts gained significant traction. David saw them and accused me of deliberately stirring up trouble. The internet, however, seemed to pity me, while simultaneously condemning me as a madwoman. And that little girl… she sent me messages every single day. “Mommy, Daisy misses you so much. Please, don’t argue with Daddy anymore.” “Daisy will be good.” David also apologized for hitting me, urging me to see a psychiatrist. I ignored his pleas. Instead, I began to sift through Daisy’s belongings, until I found a medical report. It clearly stated that my daughter had a severe seafood allergy; she couldn’t eat any of it. I remembered vividly how, because of this, David and I had stopped buying seafood, terrified of risking her health. The time she accidentally ate a single shrimp at preschool and broke out in hives was etched into my memory. She’s not allergic to seafood! Like a drowning person clutching at a straw, I immediately drove to David’s parents’ house. I saw Michelle peeling crab for the girl. Overwhelmed, I lunged forward, grabbing the girl’s hand. “You’re allergic to seafood! How can you eat crab? Tell me, where is my daughter?!” The girl cried piteously, looking at me with wide, bewildered eyes. “Mommy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pulled her, intending to take her to the hospital. Michelle quickly intervened, grabbing my arm. “Enough! Isn’t it too much, the way you’re questioning this child?” My eyes fixed on Michelle, and in that instant, I suddenly saw it. The girl’s eyebrows… they looked so much like Michelle’s. As I froze, Michelle let out a sharp cry. I felt a forceful shove. Both the girl and I tumbled down the stairs. I heard footsteps from the entrance and turned to see David rushing towards us, his face etched with panic. Michelle, meanwhile, scrambled down the stairs, feigning terror. “David!” she wailed, her voice thick with tears. “Sarah’s really gone crazy! She actually tried to kill Daisy!” As I fell down the stairs, my instinct took over. I wrapped my arms around the girl, shielding her body, taking the brunt of the impact myself. David quickly lifted the girl into his arms. She clung to his sleeve, her eyes wide and innocent. “Daddy, I thought Mommy came to find me because she remembered me. But she just kept pulling my hand, no matter if I wanted to or not.” “When Aunt Michelle tried to help me, she actually tried to push me down the stairs! Does Mommy really not love me anymore?” Her cries were unbearable. I couldn’t control my voice. “Enough! You’re not my Daisy! And I didn’t try to push you!” David held her close, his eyes blazing with fury at me. “Sarah Miller, I misjudged you! Do you think a child, so small, just rolls down the stairs on her own?!” “No, I didn’t…” I started to protest, but Michelle interjected from the side. “David, I think Sarah’s condition is getting worse. She’s starting to hallucinate, even doing things that could harm people.” I remembered the medical report I’d found earlier. “No! I didn’t! David, this girl is allergic to seafood, she can’t…” The little girl, still nestled against David, continued to sob. “Daddy, Aunt Michelle, my body hurts so much.” I grabbed David’s pant leg, desperate for him to take her to get checked for allergies. David, with a look of utter helplessness, shook my hand away. My head hit the floor, and everything went black. 4 When I next awoke, I found myself in a hospital bed. A nurse walked in. “Severe mental disorientation. You’ll be staying here for a while.” I grabbed her hand. “Where is this? Where’s David?” “Your family admitted you to a psychiatric facility. Your mental condition is quite serious. You can only leave once you’re fully recovered.” Just as I was about to speak again, someone pulled open the curtain of the adjacent bed. “Keep it down, will ya?” It was a boy, no older than ten, hunched over a laptop, eyes fixed on lines of strange code. Trapped there, I found him to be a quiet companion. He often advised me to give up struggling, saying I’d only leave when family came to collect me. Out of sheer desperation, I began drawing. I drew Daisy, over and over, trying to capture the girl I remembered. I still believed my daughter was out there, vanished. The more I drew, the more sketches piled up. The boy, observing my frenzy, eventually used his computer to generate a picture from my drawings. I stared at the AI-generated photo. This was my daughter. My Daisy. Tears streamed down my face. “Please, kid,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. “Can you find this girl for me? She’s my daughter.” I poured out everything that had happened, telling him about the fake Daisy, the pig farm video, my family’s disbelief. He listened, then used his laptop to log into my old social media accounts. There, among my posts, were old sketches of Daisy. I saw a private message, an account tagged. I found the account. It was empty, yet the profile page boasted hundreds of thousands of likes on old posts. An unsettling feeling seized me. I urgently begged the boy to do something. His fingers danced across the keyboard. Soon, that account was open on his screen. In the private section, there were several videos, each with tens of thousands of likes. In them, a small girl, mimicking a hog, was eating from a trough. Her clothes were filthy, her body emaciated. I watched video after video, tears streaming down my face, uncontrolled. This girl… this was my daughter. The one who’d been missing for three years. I scrutinized her face, confirming it again and again. It was Daisy. Seeing my desperate state, the boy quickly pinpointed the IP address.

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My roommate, Lily Kingsley, started stealing takeout, ballooning from ninety pounds to one hundred and fifty, turning into a veritable human blimp. Later, she wanted me to join her, but I refused. I told her it was wrong, but she just thought I was ungrateful. Eventually, the school caught on to her thievery and expelled her. She blamed me for reporting her. So, on the day she came back to pack her things, she pushed me from the top floor. She then claimed my job, the one I had worked so hard for, and promptly started dating my fiancé. I died consumed by hatred. But then I opened my eyes again. To my shock, I was back on the very first day Lily Kingsley started stealing takeout. 1 A rustle at the dorm door, and then it swung open. I watched as my roommate, Lily Kingsley, entered, juggling two large bags of takeout. She plopped down, opened the containers, and a delicious aroma wafted through the room. “What did you guys have for lunch?” she asked, oblivious. I stared at the bags in her hands, a chilling realization dawning on me. In my previous life, this was the day Lily started stealing takeout. Her first haul was two full meals. She got away with it—a roasted duck and a milk tea—and from that moment, she grew increasingly brazen. Soon, she was pilfering four or five meals a day. When no one pursued her, she started taking packages too. Her desk began to overflow with designer makeup, handbags, and jewelry. Later, she expanded her operations, stealing takeout across the entire campus, randomly snatching orders from under dorm buildings, grabbing whatever looked appealing. The takeout packaging grew increasingly luxurious: sometimes it was from a high-end hotpot place, sometimes a whole durian. Back then, I often wondered how she, a fellow scholarship student with an allowance of only $800 a month, could afford such lavish meals. It wasn’t until we were working on a group project that she approached me. “If you help me with this part, I’ll give you something good.” I was curious what she meant by “something good,” so I pressed her. “What kind of good thing?” she whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “Whatever takeout you want, I’ll steal it for you. No, I mean, I’ll get it for you.” She then watched my reaction, a smug look on her face. I quickly waved my hands, refusing. “No, no, I can do this part, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.” But she interpreted my refusal as disdain, and from that moment on, she silently resented me. 2 Later, whispers began in the dorm group chats. “Who took my takeout?” every now and then. “My package went missing, has anyone seen it?” I didn’t know it then, but the thief was living right beside me. When our homeroom teacher asked if anyone’s takeout had gone missing, Lily threatened me. She said if I dared to expose her, she’d claim I was her accomplice, dragging me down with her. The ridiculous part was, I actually listened to her then. I agreed to keep her secret. But this time, I’d make sure she got a truly “free meal” – courtesy of the justice system. I’d just returned to the dorm to find Lily coming in, laden with four or five takeout bags. My gaze fixated on her bags. Lily, noticing my stare, eyed me warily. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not sharing. Stop looking.” I plastered on a fawning smile. “Oh, what did you order? It smells amazing! How much was it? Can I see the receipt?” Lily hugged her bags tightly. “None of your business what I eat! Order your own food on the app, hmph.” “I just meant you’re eating so deliciously,” I countered. Lily smirked triumphantly. “Of course. You, a poor scholarship student, could never afford such fancy food. Don’t even dream about it.” I spotted a takeout slip on her desk and snatched it. The name on it was Bethany Chase. I shouted, “This receipt says Bethany Chase’s name, doesn’t it?!” Lily snatched the slip back with a jerk. “What are you looking at? My friend ordered this for me. Don’t be so dramatic.” I narrowed my eyes at the faint blush on Lily’s ear tips—her tell-tale sign of guilt. Bethany Chase was infamous in the Chemistry department for her explosive temper. Just last week, she’d verbally flayed a classmate for two hours straight in the hallway for using her laundry detergent without permission. I pulled out my phone, pretending to go get hot water, but actually hid around the corridor corner and started recording. “Where’s my eel rice?!” Ten minutes later, Bethany’s furious roar echoed from downstairs. She started bombarding the dorm group chat, accusing some “inhuman creature” of stealing her takeout. Seeing no one respond, she stomped towards the dorm supervisor’s room, ready to demand action. At that moment, I strategically poked my head out from the water station, phone in hand. “I think I just saw someone carrying a bag with a neon Japanese restaurant logo. They went to the left side of the dorms, but I didn’t get a good look at their face.” Bethany immediately set out to knock on every dorm room door, but many chose not to open. She decided to simply sit by the trash cans and wait. I returned to the dorm to find Lily had finished her meal. “Lily,” I said, “even though I can’t afford such food, can I help you throw away the trash? Just to smell the aroma?” Lily looked at me condescendingly. “Fine, fine. I know someone like you will never eat such high-class food in your life. I’ll be merciful and let you throw it away.” I took her takeout bag and walked towards the trash cans. Bethany, who was guarding them, immediately spotted the bag in my hand and rushed towards me. “So, it was you all along! You thief! And you’re playing the victim! I’m going to expose you, just you wait!” Bethany yelled. “If it were me,” I said calmly, “would I have pointed you in that direction?” Bethany rolled her eyes. “Who knows what you were thinking at the time? I don’t care. Either replace it with an identical meal right now, or pay ten times the price of this meal.” I calmly replied, “Wait until you see this video.” I pulled out my phone and handed her the video I had recorded from the hallway corner. Her face went from disbelief to absolute fury. Knowing Lily was a famous rich girl in our department, Bethany immediately wanted to confront Lily with the video. I quickly stopped her, saying conspiratorially, “If you go now, do you have any other evidence besides this video?” Bethany retorted, “This video is enough! I’ll tear her mouth to shreds!” I gave her a stern look and analyzed. “Think about it: Lily usually presents herself as generous. Who would believe she steals takeout? It’s just this one time, but where there’s one, there’s two. We just need to wait and see.” Bethany scoffed. “Easy for you to say. Are we just going to skip class and sit here watching the building all day?” I looked at Bethany, my voice firm. “Actually, from what I’ve observed these past few days, she’s no longer satisfied with just stealing takeout. Her desk is covered in designer bags and jewelry. Remember? She’s on a scholarship, just like me.” Bethany’s eyes widened in realization. “Now that you mention it, I remember! At the beginning of the semester, she looked like a country bumpkin!” I continued, “Right now, she’d only get a verbal warning or be socially ostracized in the dorm chat. That’s not a real punishment. So, listen to me…” Bethany’s face lit up. “Okay! That’s a good idea! But… what’s your beef with her? You’re so ruthless!” I looked at Bethany. “You’ll find out later.”

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As the sole daughter of the Vance family, my billion-dollar inheritance was shadowed by the agonizing memory of three childhood kidnappings. My father had surrounded me with a hundred bodyguards; even my school commute required three armored vehicles. “Choose a husband,” he’d urged, “one who will protect you day and night.” I chose Lucian Thorne, the one who seemed gentlest to me. Yet, on our wedding day, he dismissed all my bodyguards. I found myself tied to a rooftop, a kidnapper’s blade at my throat. On the other end of the phone, Lucian’s voice was a cold sneer: “Elara Vance, is this really necessary? You had thugs harass Seraphina Thorne. She’s the victim here. Who exactly is this little performance for?” “All I did was assign your bodyguards to protect her 24/7, so you could finally get a taste of living in fear.” I counted the chimes of the city clock from the rooftop. Each hour that passed, I lost another finger. Twenty-four hours later, my blood ran dry, and my heart died with it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had to choose a husband—my father’s hand still held those eight photographs. This time, my finger swept past Lucian Thorne’s image and landed squarely on the roguish, devil-may-care smile in the far corner. But my father said, “That man is dead.” 1 I stared at the eight photographs in my father’s hand, my finger sweeping past Lucian Thorne’s gentle, almost ethereal face without a tremor, moving directly to the bottom corner, to that dark-skinned, rogue’s smile. My father frowned. “Elara, I thought you liked Lucian Thorne best? Why choose Ryder Blackwood?” I clenched my fingers so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Ryder Blackwood. A top athlete from childhood, but infamous in the D.C. elite scene as a notorious playboy. His skin was perpetually tanned, and he spent his days at racetracks and nightclubs, his female companions rotating more frequently than his designer clothes. My father despised him, having exiled him to a remote, far-flung project in Willow Creek just to get rid of him. But I remembered. In my past life, tied to that rooftop, bleeding out drop by agonizing drop, the last image I saw before plunging was Ryder Blackwood, rushing toward me like a madman—his face contorted with terror and raw anguish. “I’ll choose him,” I whispered, my voice trembling. My father frowned, pulling out his phone to scroll through his contacts, but he paused, awkwardly—he didn’t even have Ryder Blackwood’s number saved. How ironic. These eight men were all his adopted “sons,” yet Ryder Blackwood didn’t even merit a contact entry. His chief assistant quickly called back. “Mr. Vance, Ryder Blackwood met with an accident last month in Willow Creek. A mudslide.” My father sighed. “Elara, choose someone else. Lucian Thorne is actually…” “No. I’m not choosing anyone else.” I stood up abruptly, my throat tight. “Besides him, I want no one.” In my past life, those so-called “brothers” either fawned over Lucian Thorne’s cousin or coldly laughed at my misfortune. Reborn, I’d rather be alone forever than be stabbed by that false tenderness again. I walked out of the office in a daze, Ryder Blackwood’s final expression burned into my mind. If even he was dead, who else in this world would fight for me to the death? Suddenly, a cold hand clamped onto my wrist. I looked up. It was Lucian Thorne. Seraphina Thorne was leaning against him, her slender body subtly trembling, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she’d endured the greatest injustice. Lucian Thorne’s expression was gentle, but his tone was stiff. “Elara, Seraphina isn’t well. Your hot springs resort is empty anyway; let her go there to recuperate for a few days. She’s been having trouble sleeping and coughing a lot lately.” In my past life, I would have softened and agreed instantly. But now, I simply gave them a cold look. “I don’t agree.” With that, I directly called my assistant. “Lock the resort gates. Don’t let any riff-raff slip in.” Lucian Thorne’s face changed instantly. “Elara!” He gripped my wrist roughly, his hold painfully tight. “She’s my cousin. She’ll be family someday. Can’t you be reasonable?” I scoffed, sharply yanking my hand free. “Who among you is family to me?” His pupils constricted, as if stung. “What’s gotten into you? Just because Seraphina wore your hair clip last time? You have rooms full of jewelry. What’s wrong with letting her borrow one?” Seraphina chose that moment to sob, tears clinging to her lashes. “Lucian, it’s alright… Miss Vance looks down on me. I’m not worthy anyway…” I couldn’t be bothered to watch their charade any longer. I turned and walked away. “I said no, and that’s final.” Back in my room, I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep. The dizzying sensation of rebirth still churned, until a jarring phone ring jolted me awake. “Miss Vance!” My assistant’s voice was tearful. “Mr. Thorne brought Miss Thorne into the resort! I couldn’t stop them. The bodyguards all listened to him!” I shot upright. Images of my past kidnapping flashed before my eyes—the very bodyguards who were supposed to protect me had just as readily followed Lucian Thorne, abandoning me to my captors. Rushing into the resort, one bodyguard dared to block my path. “Miss Vance, Mr. Thorne instructed that no one is to disturb them.” SLAP! I lashed out, my palm connecting sharply with his face, my body trembling with rage. “You eat my food, but you listen to others? Get out of my sight, now!” The moment I pushed open the inner chamber door, the sight before me made my blood run cold. 2 In the steamy mist of the hot springs, Seraphina Thorne leaned languidly against the pool’s edge, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural blush. “Lucian, I’m so dizzy…” Before she finished, her body went limp, and she started to slide into the water. Lucian Thorne jumped into the pool without hesitation, pulling her into his arms. Water droplets ran down his taut jawline, landing on Seraphina’s bare shoulder. “Lucian Thorne,” I interrupted, my voice cutting through the air. “I told you, you’re not welcome here.” His body stiffened. Seraphina’s eyelashes fluttered in his arms. “Elara!” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, quickly turning to anger. “Do you have to be so aggressive? She almost fainted! Can’t you be less cruel?!” Seraphina suddenly broke free from his embrace, falling to her knees with a splash before me, her forehead hitting the ground hard. “Miss Vance, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault!” Blood trickled down her pale cheek. Suddenly, she lunged, grabbing my leg, but the next second, as if shoved, she toppled back into the pool. She struggled in the water, crying out in pain, “Help! I’m cramping!” Lucian Thorne jumped in again to scoop her up. When he emerged, he looked at me with pure disgust. “Elara Vance, you are truly despicable!” He violently shoved me into the pool. BANG! My arm slammed against the pool wall, immediately bruising. “If you ever bully Seraphina like this again,” he said, cradling the trembling Seraphina, his voice icy, “I won’t marry you.” Watching their retreating backs, I climbed out of the pool, feeling humiliated. “Every single person who let them in today—you’re all fired!” As I was changing, my assistant rushed in. “Miss Vance! We found a lead on Ryder Blackwood!” I rushed to Willow Creek that night. The mountain roads, ravaged by heavy rain, were muddy and treacherous. Just as I settled into a small inn, a pair of large hands suddenly grabbed me. The person violently yanked me into a dark alley, a warm hand clamping tightly over my mouth. I looked up in terror, meeting a pair of eyes as bright as stars. “Ryder Blackwood?!” He quickly released me, his masked face flushed red. “Miss Vance, what are you doing in a place like this…?” “You’re not dead?” My voice trembled. He scratched his head sheepishly, revealing a charming little canine tooth. “There was an insider leak on the project here. I used the mudslide as an excuse to fake my death and expose the traitor.” “You can do that?” I asked, surprised. His smile suddenly dimmed. “Did I disappoint you? Do you… always think I’m stupid?” My heart gave a sudden, sharp pang. I grabbed his hand, desperate. “Listen! You have to be back before the 8th, for the wedding!” His body stiffened, his eyes instantly dimming. “Okay. I’ll definitely be there for your wedding.” “You idiot,” I stomped my foot in frustration. “I mean, I’m marrying you…” “Boss! The insider’s getting away!” a shout echoed from the distance. He frantically backed away two steps. “Miss Vance, there might be danger here. You should go back quickly! I’ll be at the wedding!” Ryder Blackwood’s hasty retreating figure quickly vanished into the alley. I stood there, a whirlwind of thoughts in my mind. In my past life, he was the least noticed among the eight. Everyone said he was all brawn and no brains, only fit for nightclubs and outdoor activities. Not like Lucian Thorne, always impeccably suited, glasses glinting as he plotted his strategies. Yet, the most peripheral tasks, the trickiest connections, were always handed to Ryder Blackwood to handle. But now, I realized these so-called “peripheral tasks” involved dealing with the most difficult and shady characters. Without incredible finesse and street smarts, how could he have handled them so flawlessly? On the return journey, I had my assistant create a new digital wedding invitation and send it to Ryder Blackwood. It wasn’t until the middle of the night that my phone finally chimed with a notification. “Miss Vance, the groom’s name is incorrect. Remember to change it.” The “typing…” bubble above the chat flickered for a long time before another message appeared. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be at the wedding.” I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Nothing I said now would convince him. I’d just have to explain in person when he returned. My phone vibrated relentlessly. Lucian Thorne sent message after message: “Seraphina needs your apology.” “Don’t be so childish.” I opened the screen and, without hesitation, deleted his contact. 3 Knowing Ryder Blackwood was alive, and far more capable than I’d imagined, my mood was brighter than ever before. I began preparing for the wedding. That day, I pushed open the glass door of the bridal shop, immediately assailed by a cloying scent of cheap perfume. “Lucian~ Does this look good on me?” Seraphina Thorne’s sickly sweet voice instantly raised goosebumps on my arms. She was brazenly wearing the wedding gown my mother had custom-ordered for me, admiring herself repeatedly in the mirror. Lucian Thorne watched her tenderly. “Seraphina, you look beautiful in anything.” “Oh, stop it~ You’re such a charmer, Lucian~” Seraphina purred, twirling, the cheap perfume scent permeating the air. I suppressed my anger and walked toward them. The moment Lucian Thorne saw me, his face visibly stiffened. He instinctively stepped forward, blocking Seraphina, his voice deliberately gentle. “Elara, don’t misunderstand. Seraphina isn’t well, and she might… she might not make it to her own wedding day. She just wanted to experience wearing a wedding dress.” Seraphina began to cough delicately. “Take it off,” I interrupted, my voice icy. Seraphina’s eyes immediately welled up. “Miss Vance, I’m so sorry, I just envied you too much.” She trembled, grabbing Lucian Thorne’s sleeve. “It’s all my fault, don’t blame Lucian…” Lucian Thorne’s face hardened. “You’ll be marrying me sooner or later anyway. What does it matter if she tries it on? Can’t you just let her be happy?” “I said, take. It. Off.” I repeated each word slowly, my gaze sweeping over the trembling sales assistants. “When did the wedding dress I ordered become available for others to try on?” Two sales assistants frantically helped Seraphina out of the gown. Several red marks appeared on her fair arms from the tight fabric. Seraphina wept, tears streaming down her face like rain. “I’m sorry, I’m so low, I don’t deserve to wear such beautiful clothes!” She suddenly went limp, collapsing to the floor. Lucian Thorne lunged forward, catching her in one swift motion, then turned to me, roaring, “Elara Vance, are you satisfied?!” “Disinfect it three times,” I said, frowning in disgust. “Don’t leave even a trace of her scent.” Seraphina, covering her face, ran out. Lucian Thorne glared at me, his face livid, then slammed the door shut and left. That evening, my assistant conspiratorially leaned in. “Miss Vance, guess what? That perpetually fragile Seraphina Thorne was hit by a car today! I heard her leg is broken!” She gesticulated excitedly. “If you ask me, it’s karma! She clearly knew Lucian Thorne was your fiancé, yet she was always clinging to him, acting like some innocent little flower. It was disgusting!” I gently swirled the red wine in my glass, a cold smirk touching my lips. “Who told you Lucian Thorne was my fiancé?” My assistant’s eyes widened, nearly dropping the fruit platter. “Miss Vance, are you saying…” “Go tell the wedding planner to change the groom’s name,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “Make it Ryder Blackwood.” “That’s wonderful!” my assistant clapped her hands, excited. “Miss Vance! That Lucian Thorne, even if he seemed decent, had no boundaries. Always clinging to Seraphina Thorne, he was a real player.” I couldn’t help but smile faintly. Even my assistant saw it so clearly. How could I have been so deluded in my past life? Love truly does blind you. With a soft sigh, I shook my head. The next morning, as I stepped out of the company building, my vision suddenly went black. A sack was roughly pulled over my head! “Who?! Let go of me!” I struggled desperately. My assailant violently shoved me into a car. My back slammed hard against the car door, making me gasp in pain. The familiar terror instantly swept through me, memories of my past kidnapping flooding back like a tide. “Please! I’ll give you any amount of money!” My voice trembled uncontrollably, tears soaking the blindfold. My only response was a suffocating silence. Until that familiar scent drifted into my nostrils—Lucian Thorne’s usual cologne. My heart plunged to rock bottom. “You… what do you want…?” “Someone wanted me to teach you a good lesson,” he said, his voice deliberately lowered. Even though I’d already decided not to marry him, his actions now still caused an unbearable ache in my heart. CRACK! An iron bar struck my leg with a sickening thud. The excruciating pain made my vision swim. My heart felt like it was tearing apart. I suppressed the urge to expose his disguise. I curled into a ball in the corner of the car, tears silently soaking the sack. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I heard his cold voice: “Remember this lesson.” 4 The iron bar struck my leg with a dull thud, once, twice, thrice… Fifteen times in all. The sound of bone cracking was sickeningly clear. I screamed until I lost consciousness, then was dumped at the gates of the Vance family estate. The sterile smell of the hospital was acrid and nauseating. From the VIP room next door, Seraphina Thorne’s voice drifted. “Lucian, you’re so tired from spending all your time with me!” My heart twisted with a crushing pain. Lucian Thorne, to get revenge for Seraphina, you could be so utterly brutal! “Daughter!” My father rushed in, embracing me tightly, his voice trembling. “Who did this? I’ll make them wish they were never born!” “It’s okay, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile through the pain. “Just get me a new team of bodyguards!” I added, “Oh, and Ryder Blackwood is alive. Once we’re married, he’ll protect me too.” After my father left, I leaned on a crutch and hobbled to the window. In the garden below, Lucian Thorne was spinning Seraphina around on his back. She whispered something in his ear that made his ear tips flush red, and he smiled with such tenderness. It was a smile I had never received. The day before the wedding, Ryder Blackwood arrived, covered in dust, still smelling of earth. He carefully pulled a smooth jade pendant from his pocket. “Miss Vance, a wedding gift!” “The groom has finally returned,” I said, taking the jade, deliberately raising my voice. Ryder Blackwood froze, his eyes instantly reddening, his lips trembling but unable to speak. My assistant quietly informed me that Lucian Thorne had been missing for the past few days. I scoffed. He was waiting for me to lower my head and apologize, waiting for me to come crying, begging him to return and marry me. Unfortunately, his calculations were wrong. That evening, my phone suddenly vibrated. Seraphina Thorne sent a video—a graphic scene of her and Lucian Thorne entwined, utterly indecent. But quickly, the video was recalled. “Amateurish,” I scoffed, closing my phone. Such tactics were pathetic. Standing by the window, I saw Ryder Blackwood standing alone under the starlit sky, gazing up at my window. He waved to me, his smile warm and resolute. In that moment, my heart felt an unprecedented calm. On the morning of the wedding, my phone rang. “Just apologize to Seraphina, and I’ll come marry you immediately,” Lucian Thorne’s voice was still condescending. “No need,” I said, hanging up crisply, a cold smirk on my lips. At the wedding venue, guests whispered amongst themselves. “Where’s Lucian Thorne?” “Are they going to cancel the wedding?” I ignored them, walking down the aisle, linked arm-in-arm with Ryder Blackwood. His arm muscles were tense, but he carefully controlled his strength, fearful of hurting me. “Let us congratulate Mr. Ryder Blackwood and Miss Elara Vance!” the officiant’s voice boomed through the hall. Just then, the ballroom doors were violently thrown open. Lucian Thorne, pale and late, stood in the doorway, the bouquet in his hand smashing to the floor. I curved my lips into a smile and, under his disbelieving gaze, leaned in and kissed Ryder Blackwood.

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On my birthday, my younger brother gave me a 50-gram gold bracelet. That very night, his girlfriend added me on social media and lashed out: “Shameless old hag! If you want a gold bracelet, find yourself a boyfriend! Hurry up and return the bracelet my boyfriend bought for me!” I couldn’t help but let out an angry laugh, then slapped my brother across the face. “Look at the trash you’ve found! Break up with her, now!” 1 On my thirtieth birthday, my younger brother suddenly had a rare moment of conscience. He spent over forty thousand dollars to give me a glittering, massive gold bracelet. That evening, as I was showing it off to my best friend, a social media request instantly doused my high spirits. “Does a gold bracelet from someone else’s boyfriend smell sweet?” ? I paused, stunned. Today was my birthday. The only one who gave me a gold bracelet was my brother, who’s five years younger than me. My hand, quicker than my brain, clicked “accept.” The other side immediately barraged me with a frantic stream of messages. “Shameless old hag! If you want a gold bracelet, find yourself a boyfriend! Hurry up and return the bracelet my boyfriend bought for me!” My breath hitched, and fury surged to my brain. The last vestiges of my sanity made me send back a single question mark after some thought. “Can’t you understand human language? I’m Liam’s girlfriend. I’m giving you until tomorrow to return the bracelet, or don’t blame me for being rude.” I rolled my eyes. Ugh, what a tone. Did she think I was some mistress Liam had found? I tentatively replied, “I’m Liam’s sister. Full-blooded, same parents.” Clearly, I had overthought it. “So what if you’re his sister? Liam is my boyfriend. Don’t tell me you’re his sister—you could be his mother and he still shouldn’t buy you a bracelet. You dared to accept a forty-thousand-dollar bracelet? Aren’t you afraid it’ll burn you?” So, she knew who I was after all. If it wasn’t a mistaken attack, then it was a direct one. I retorted without hesitation: “Do you know who you are? You’re just my brother’s girlfriend, not his wife. And I certainly won’t allow Liam to have such an ill-mannered wife. Otherwise, I’ll break his legs.” She probably blew up, immediately firing back a voice message. The moment I answered, the receiver was filled with a long string of expletives, heavily punctuated by mother-related insults. I tossed my phone onto the sofa, unfurled a face mask, and meticulously smoothed it onto my face. When she tired of yelling, she started threatening me: “Hear me? Return the bracelet tomorrow, or I’ll call you every day and curse you out.” “Tsk,” I scoffed. “Are you done cussing? It’s my turn. My vocabulary is far more extensive than yours…” Beep. She actually hung up. These young people really had no sense of decorum. I dialed back. The message: “The other party has not added you as a friend and cannot be voice called.” She blocked me? Truly, no decorum whatsoever. I was furious! I roared at my brother, who was gaming in his bedroom: “LIAM! I’m giving you three seconds to get over here!” Liam stumbled out, one slipper on, the other hand still clutching his mouse. His face was a mask of terror. “Sis, what’s up? I’m about to take down the enemy’s core.” I tore off my face mask and flung it at him. “Take down your ass! You’d better explain what this is all about!” 2 My brother mumbled, “I wish I had a sister. If I had a sister, I’d never pick on her.” He begrudgingly took the phone I handed him, looked at it for three seconds, and then all the hairs on his body stood on end. He quickly stammered, “Sis, sis, this is definitely a misunderstanding.” I watched him with a mocking smirk. “Oh? How so?” He hemmed and hawed for a long time, then carefully placed the phone on the coffee table, forcing a chuckle. “Sis, sis, don’t get mad first. I’ll ask Savannah what’s going on.” I rotated my wrist. “You’d better get to the bottom of it fast. You know I don’t have much patience.” My brother nodded, then bolted as if fleeing for his life. I curled up on the sofa, growing angrier the more I thought about it. Both my parents were workaholics. Liam, you could say, I raised him from childhood. He was a difficult child, causing endless trouble from a young age. Every time, I was the one cleaning up his messes. During his rebellious phase, he defied them in every way. My parents tried to rein him in but found they couldn’t. Finally, left with no choice, I, a fresh college student, took three months off. With sheer sibling dominance, I disciplined him until he was perfectly obedient. Until he cried, begging me, “Sis, please go back to school. I really know I was wrong.” My mom sometimes brings up those days, shaking her head. “To see you, such a small person, with such incredible strength. You literally beat six-foot-tall Liam until he cried for mercy.” Liam would chime in, “You guys just talk about it, but she really hit, hit to kill, like she didn’t care if she killed me.” From then on, I discovered that reasoning with Liam was useless; only brute force worked. In the entire family, this kid feared nothing and no one, except me. Whenever he acted like a jerk, if my parents just said, “I’ll tell your sister,” he’d instantly turn into a sweet little angel. I hit him, but I was also truly good to him. I made sure he had all the gaming equipment, sports gear, and electronics a boy could want. When he graduated college and said he wasn’t ready to enter society, I defied my parents’ pressure and paid for him to travel for a year. His job was too far from home, so I gave him my brand-new, tens-of-thousands-of-dollars car to drive, taking the subway to work myself. Finally, this kid grew up, wised up. He proactively used his bonus to buy me a gold bracelet. I felt like a diligent old farmer, toiling for decades, finally seeing the fruits of my harvest. And now, I was being cursed at, called a shameless old hag? Forget Liam giving me a gold bracelet; given all I’ve done for him over the years, I’d deserve a whole apartment if he gave it to me. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I grabbed my phone and called my childhood friend: “Help me look someone up. Savannah Jenkins, Liam’s girlfriend…” 3 The next morning, I woke with dark circles under my eyes. A glance at the clock showed it was already 7:30 AM. After getting ready, I walked to the door and saw my car keys hanging by the entrance. The anger that had somewhat subsided overnight flared up again. I heard Liam picks up Savannah for work every morning, right? I bought the car, and I take the subway, while they drive my car, shielded from wind and sun. And then they complain about the bracelet I gave him? Am I some kind of big-time chump? Let them take the subway. I slipped on my shoes, tossed the car keys into my bag, and humming a little tune, I got into the elevator. When I reached the basement and opened the car door, I couldn’t help but frown. The entire car was stuffed with all sorts of plush toys. The passenger seat was decked out in pink, with a tacky pink bow tied to the headrest. Even more ridiculous, the passenger sun visor had a note stuck to it: “Savannah’s Seat. No Sluts Allowed.” Hmph! She really thinks she’s something. I leaned in, ripped off the note, then found a bag and stuffed all the fluffy toys into it, tossing them into the trunk. Only when all that was done did I look at my car’s original interior, finally satisfied, and nodded. Just as I arrived at the office, Liam’s custom ringtone blared. “Sis, where are my car keys? Did you drive the car away?” I sat down, opened my computer, and said coldly, “What? Isn’t it my car? Can’t I drive it whenever I want? Do I need to report to you?” Liam paused, then switched to a more flattering tone. “Sis, dearest sis, are you still mad? I asked Savannah yesterday. She just loves me too much, so she’s a bit possessive. You, being someone who hasn’t been in love, wouldn’t understand this feeling, so don’t be so hard on Savannah.” Look at him, is he even speaking sense? My fists instinctively tightened. “Someone who hasn’t been in love wouldn’t understand this feeling,” he said. When I was dating guys with six-packs and sweet, innocent smiles, this kid was still immersed in angsty teenage fiction. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I had a very important meeting this morning; I couldn’t afford to get angry. Anger affected clear thinking. I softened my tone. “Go to hell, you idiot. I’ll deal with you when I get home.” 4 After hanging up, I began preparing materials for the morning meeting. Savannah Jenkins, who had unblocked me, messaged: “You tramp, it’s all because of you that I lost my perfect attendance bonus! You owe me! We don’t even care about driving your crappy car. I order you to immediately buy Liam and me a new car, or don’t blame me for being rude!” I took three deep breaths, but the more I thought, the angrier I got. I dialed her directly for a voice call. She answered and immediately launched into a passionate tirade. “Was your mother just a placenta when she gave birth to you? Are your brain and large intestine switched? How else could your head be so full of crap? Read more books, stop daydreaming all day. Buy you a car? Why don’t I buy a hammer and smash you? You should save the money you spend on game skins and invest in some brains. You act like a total idiot every day. Savannah Jenkins, right? Let me tell you, as long as I’m alive, if you ever step foot in my house, you can take my surname!” The moment I finished speaking, I slammed down the phone and promptly blocked her. My motto: get revenge, no internalizing. Three minutes later, Liam’s phone rang again. I immediately blocked all his contact methods and forced a charming smile at my reflection. But before my smile even faded, my phone tiredly rang again. The moment I answered, Liam’s voice came through the receiver: “Sis, why did you block…” Snap! I cut him off. The general manager’s assistant emerged, announcing, “Ms. Lane, your department’s been called to the meeting.” I smiled, silencing my phone. This project was crucial, tied to our entire department’s quarterly bonus. Absolutely no room for error. I picked up my laptop and walked confidently to the meeting room. There was a lot to report. It was two hours later when it was my turn to summarize. “Sis, sis! Don’t stop me, I have something urgent to tell my sister!” A familiar voice suddenly blared from outside the meeting room. I frowned. Liam, refusing to back down, was making a racket at the door. The general manager’s assistant whispered a few words to the general manager, who glared at me, displeased. I gave him an awkward smile. “Mr. Liu, give me two minutes.” I grabbed a broom from the corner, then pulled open the meeting room door. “Sis, let me explain…” I smiled at him, then immediately swung the broom at him. “Ow, sis, sis, why are you hitting me again?” I said gently, “Go to hell. If this project falls apart, I’ll skin you alive when I get home.” Liam shivered, quickly explaining, “I didn’t know you had an important meeting.” I glared at him. “Now you know. Get lost.” Liam nodded like a pecking chick. “Then I’ll wait for you.” 5 Returning to the conference room, I glanced at my watch. Exactly two minutes. “Mr. Liu, I can present now.” Mr. Liu’s gaze at me was a little uncomfortable. He took a sip of tea. “No, no need. The proposal is quite good. We’ll leave it to your department. That’s all for today.” He finished speaking, stood up, and strode out. At the door, he turned back to me and said, “Oh, about young Liam, skinning someone is illegal, you know.” I froze. After Mr. Liu left, my colleagues in the department gave me a thumbs-up. “Ms. Lane, I never knew you had such a fierce side.” “Yeah, when you were hitting your brother, Mr. Liu said he was glad he never pushed you too hard before.” Me: … Great. My carefully maintained image as a graceful lady had just shattered into a million pieces. 6 At noon, when work ended, Liam was waiting for me in our company lobby. When he saw me, he stubbornly walked up, a hint of complaint in his voice. “Sis, I’m 25 this year. Aren’t you being a bit too disrespectful?” I gave him an unamused glance. “Spit it out.” Liam rolled his eyes at me. “Sis, no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. Why can’t you be gentle like Savannah? And listen, it’s fine if you hit me or yell at me—you’re my sister. But you can’t insult Savannah. She’s a sensitive girl; you cursed her out so horribly, she cried. This afternoon, when you get off work, go apologize to Savannah and buy her a gold bracelet.” My brows furrowed deeper and deeper, and I looked at him as if he were an utter idiot. I gave him a cold laugh. “I think you’re itching for another beating, aren’t you?” He paused, a hint of anger in his eyes. “Sis, don’t be endless. Do you really think I can’t beat you? I’ve always let you win before, but now I have a woman to protect. If you keep this up, I’ll fight back.” Now it was my turn to freeze. He was right. He was over six feet tall and weighed around 160 pounds. If it came down to a real fight, I truly wasn’t his match. It just stung a little. My little brother, whom I had raised since childhood, was now saying such things to me for a woman he’d known for less than six months. I looked at him mockingly. “Liam, I suggest you get a specialist referral to a psychiatrist and have your head examined. Are you selectively forgetting what Savannah texted me yesterday? So I get cursed at, and I’m not allowed to curse back, is that it?” Liam grew impatient. “Sis, why are you so petty? I’ve already explained that Savannah just cares about me too much. This morning, you drove the car away without a word, and that was wrong of you. It cost Savannah her perfect attendance bonus. It’s only natural for her to be angry and curse at you a little. How could you say such awful things to her?” “Hah!” I actually laughed, genuinely furious. “My car, I drive it away. And I deserve to be cursed at for it, is that it? If you’re so capable, buy your own car and drive her! What kind of trash thinks it’s righteous to leech off me?” “So you’re finally saying what you really think, are you?” Liam’s eyes suddenly blazed red, looking at me as if I were an enemy. “Savannah was right after all. You just use me to flaunt your superiority. It’s just a cheap car, I don’t care for it.” What was he talking about? I couldn’t hold back anymore. SLAP! My hand connected with his face. Liam’s head snapped sideways. He suddenly went berserk, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me. I stumbled backward a few steps, my leg hitting the corner of a table. Instantly, blood streamed down. “Sis…” His face filled with panic as reason returned. “Get out…” My entire being radiated a low pressure. Liam stood rooted to the spot, stunned. I snarled again, “Get out…” Just as Liam stood there, bewildered, his phone rang. After hanging up, he walked towards me, speaking softly. “Sis, you’re not short on money anyway. Can you give me the bracelet you gave me yesterday? I’ll return it when I earn enough…” I snatched off the bracelet and threw it at him, furious. “Get out!” Liam picked up the bracelet, hesitated for a moment, then ran off. I looked at the blood gushing from my ankle, sucking in a sharp breath. However, the pain in my heart was a hundred times worse than the pain in my foot. Just as I was about to leave, my phone lit up. “Old hag, still want to fight me? When I marry Liam, I’ll kick you out of the house.”

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I flew back to the States only to find my sister, a rising star, being bullied on a reality show. The culprits? My uncle’s mistress and my ex-boyfriend. The whole internet had branded my sister a desperate gold-digger, and the object of her alleged obsession was an ex I’d grown bored of after just two months. Brooke, the mistress, flaunted a lavish, self-made persona, bankrolled by my family’s money. Meanwhile, my sister, Mia, was ridiculed for showing off a handmade barrette I’d crafted for her as a child, accused of buying cheap knock-offs. Learning all this, I made a snap decision, pouring a significant investment into the show. I was going to walk right onto that set and stand by my sister. The moment Mia and I revealed our true identities, those who’d tormented her stumbled and fell, scrambling to save face. My ex, especially, tried to worm his way back into my life, proposing a reconciliation. I simply offered him a cold, mocking smile. “You, Riley? You were nothing more than a minor plot point in a game my fiancé and I played. There was never any ‘dating,’ so what exactly are we ‘reconciling’?” 1 The day I landed back in the States, my butler was already there, phone in hand, showing me a live stream. It was Heartstrings Unscripted, America’s hottest reality dating show, boasting astronomical viewership thanks to its live format. And my sister, Mia, was one of its featured cast members. On screen, Mia sat hunched in a corner, eyes rimmed with red, clearly nursing a raw wound. The frantic scroll of comments flying across the screen quickly filled in the blanks. Mia, following the show’s format, was paired with Riley Hayes, a popular up-and-coming actor, for a three-day challenge. But Riley was openly flirting with Brooke Vance, a former actress who’d recently reignited her career. He’d even declared his preference for Brooke, telling Mia to “know her place.” Normally, this wouldn’t be a catastrophe. But Riley consistently teamed up with Brooke, leaving Mia high and dry. When Mia, desperate to complete a task so she wouldn’t starve, approached Riley for help, Brooke had chimed in with a saccharine-laced jab. “Mia, sweetie, you seem really fond of Riley. Little girls are just so clingy, aren’t they? Riley, why don’t you go with her?” Riley was quick to jump in, “She only picked me as her partner because she won the last game. I never said I’d actually cooperate.” The chat instantly erupted with praise for Riley: “What a stand-up guy!” “So honorable!” Fans gushed over Riley and Brooke’s undeniable chemistry. Meanwhile, my sister, who’d worked tirelessly to win that game, was slammed as a desperate clinger, accused of trying to ride Riley’s coattails. Seeing this, I couldn’t help but let out a cold snort. Riley, “honorable”? Even he wouldn’t dare utter such a lie. I immediately had my assistant contact the show’s director, instructing them to add a new segment. I was buying my way in. Within minutes, I received a confirmation: I’d join as a “special guest,” a family member. “Ms. Hayes,” my assistant cautioned, “going on the show yourself might invite some backlash.” After all, the internet rarely looks kindly upon those who buy their way onto a set. “No matter,” I replied, unconcerned. “I’m not in this for the money.” I quickly changed into a fresh outfit and headed straight for the live set. Someone needed to make it crystal clear that my sister wasn’t some random nobody anyone could push around. By the time I arrived, Mia had already retreated to her room, crying. I glanced at the live chat; the insults were still piling up. 【Mia’s so dramatic. The show never said Riley had to cooperate just because she picked him, right?】 【Cry when you don’t get your way? That’s her only move?】 【Can this Mia just leave? I only want to see Riley and Brooke’s sweet romance.】 The director quickly introduced me to the audience, and then I stepped into frame. “No way? Both sisters trying to milk this for clout?” “Is the show really coddling Mia? They’re calling her sister in because she’s upset?” Ignoring the rapidly scrolling comments, I walked directly to Mia’s door and knocked. Just then, Riley emerged from his own room, freezing at the sight of me. “You… you’re…?” He was clearly stunned by my presence, yet he tried to feign ignorance, as if we’d never met. I swept my gaze over him, a slow, dismissive appraisal, then curled my lips into a knowing smile. “Well, well. Looks like you’ve certainly upgraded since I last saw you.” “What are you talking about? Do I know you?” A flicker of panic, quick as lightning, darted through Riley’s eyes. I simply raised a brow, the smile lingering, and said nothing more. Of course, he’d panic at the sight of me. Years ago, before he’d even broken into the industry, I’d… well, I’d kept him for two months. Only two months, mind you. He was too childish. I was paying for his upkeep, and he wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water. If I hadn’t been so swamped with work, I would have kicked him out much sooner. “Blair! When did you get back? I missed you so much!” Before I could reply to Riley, the door swung open, and Mia launched herself into my arms. She clung to me, trembling like a wounded fawn. I spared a brief glance at Riley, a silent warning in my gaze. But the internet, predictably, twisted it. 【OMG, both sisters like the same guy? This Blair isn’t any better.】 2 Mia and I retreated into her room. She didn’t mention the bullying, only asking why I was on the show. When I told her I was a guest, her eyes widened in surprise. Given the live stream, she didn’t press further. Just then, Riley and Brooke knocked. “Mia, sweetie, I convinced Riley to come do the task with you! I won a challenge today, so I can use my own money to treat us to dinner. You and your sister should come along!” My sister, bless her heart, was so naive, so sheltered. Brooke was clearly trying to subtly flaunt her “generosity” and “influence,” but Mia, beaming, simply said, “Oh, thank you, Brooke! I’ve been starving all day!” Predictably, Mia was slammed again. 【She’s got some nerve. Brooke won that prize fair and square, just being polite, and Mia’s actually going?】 【Never seen anyone so shameless. Can she please not bring her sister along to be a third wheel?】 【‘Starved all day’? More like she just didn’t try to do the tasks.】 Mia tugged me out, but as we approached the car, Brooke feigned a look of embarrassment. “The show only assigned a four-seater car… and there are five of us.” I scrolled through the comments on my phone, noting how everyone was praising Brooke’s beauty and kindness. I raised a brow and quietly put my phone away. “If I’m not mistaken,” I said, my gaze resting on Brooke, “this car was Mia’s reward for completing a task.” Brooke’s smile faltered slightly. “Yes… yes, it was. But I’m inviting you to dinner, right? You wouldn’t really make me walk, would you? It’s fine, really, I can just walk.” She was playing the victim, using reverse psychology. I could already picture the vitriol that would flood the chat. Mia started to speak, but I shot Brooke a friendly smile. “You misunderstand. I simply meant, we can’t let you treat us for nothing. I’ll drive.” With that, I opened the back passenger door and gestured. “The show’s partners should sit together. You two hop in. Mia can ride shotgun.” Brooke was officially partnered with another actor, Jake Miller, on the show. By bringing Jake into the equation, I made it impossible for her to publicly switch him out for Riley. She could only manage an awkward laugh and climb in. Everyone settled, leaving Riley no seat. He looked frantic. “I’m Mia’s partner too! I can drive!” He reached for the car keys in my hand. I leaned against the driver’s side door, watching him with a knowing smile. “My sister chose you, but you were forced. Let’s not force anything, then. Everyone will be happier.” I threw Riley’s own words back at him, and his face instantly darkened. Then, the back window lowered, and Brooke leaned out. “Mia’s sister, I only managed to finish my task because Riley helped me. Wouldn’t it be rude to go to dinner without him?” I caught Brooke’s eye, a silent jab, implying I was planning to freeload. I crossed my arms, speaking slowly. “Then you two can get out. Mia and I will handle our own dinner.” Brooke, hearing this, suddenly lost her temper. She flung open the car door. “Fine, we’ll get out! Anyway, the show told me to use my own money today!” She stepped out, then turned to Mia. “Mia, you better think this through. You still haven’t finished your task. You have a car, but you won’t eat. I can pay for my own meal.” “What exactly are you trying to say?” I asked, my voice still sweet, but my eyes fixed on Brooke. “Are you threatening my sister to abandon her own flesh and blood? Or just bragging that my sister’s assigned partner helped you complete your task, leaving her to starve?” I kept my smile, laying bare every trap in her words. “That’s not what I meant at all!” Brooke stammered, quickly backtracking. I chuckled softly. “Of course not. I’m sure you wouldn’t. Since you can spend money, why don’t you just call a cab and head to dinner?” With that, I opened the driver’s door and slid inside, turning to look at Jake, who was still in the back seat. “If you don’t want to be a third wheel, I don’t mind having one more person join us.” 3 Jake was an industry veteran, well aware of the game. Brooke and Riley were milking their “romance” for publicity, Mia was the sacrificial lamb, and he was just a prop. “I’d appreciate that, Blair.” So, Jake didn’t move. He, too, saw no appeal in being a pointless third wheel. 【So, she’s breaking up the TV couple?】 【Good! Brooke and Riley are so much better together.】 【LOL, Blair tried to show off for Riley and totally crashed and burned.】 【Riley’s Mia’s partner. Brooke got help from him to finish her task, then turned around and mocked Mia for not finishing hers. That’s pretty messed up.】 【You don’t get it! This is all staged by the show for drama! Jake’s such a softy. Why give the Hayes sisters a pass? He should have just gotten out.】 I was about to start the car when Brooke tapped on the window. “Something wrong?” I lowered it. Brooke put on a friendly facade. “The show rules state we can’t use our own money. Even as a new guest, you have to follow the rules.” “I know,” I replied, nodding. “But if you want to eat something, I can pay for you.” I looked at Brooke, knowing she was trying to score points with the audience. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m worried I might max out your card.” 【Blair is so ungrateful.】 【This woman is pure trash. Brooke is being so kind, and she’s just throwing shade.】 【These two Hayes sisters are something else. One’s a crybaby faker, the other’s a pretentious schemer.】 “Blair… you, you shouldn’t say that.” Mia tugged at my sleeve, trying to remind me we were on a live stream. I rolled up the window and started the car. “I’m just telling the truth, Mia. I’m genuinely thinking of her finances.” The online backlash raged throughout the drive. It wasn’t until I pulled up to The Obsidian Room, the nation’s largest and most exclusive restaurant chain, that the commentators had to admit one thing: the “max out your card” line might have been true. “Are you sure we’re eating here?” Jake asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the car. “Absolutely,” I confirmed. “Where else would we go?” “The production team won’t pay for this,” Jake warned again. I nodded. “I don’t expect them to. They couldn’t afford it anyway.” This place was one of the top restaurants in the country, even internationally. Breathing inside felt expensive. After all, the entrance fee alone was ten thousand dollars per person. The hostess approached, asking if we had a reservation. Mia, unfazed, simply clung to my arm, looking around with wide-eyed curiosity. Jake, trailing behind, looked increasingly anxious, probably regretting his decision. “Should’ve stayed in the car,” I could almost hear him mutter. The production crew, too, were sweating. They knew an investor had forced me onto the show, but they had no idea I was the investor. They were probably racking their brains trying to figure out how to bill me for the meal later. I produced a small card. The hostess’s eyes widened as she quickly scanned it. She immediately bowed, her voice dripping with warmth. “Ms. Hayes, right this way.” 【OMG! She actually got in?!】 【What card did she just use? A black card? If it’s a black card, that still counts as using her own money!】 【The penthouse suite! That’s an impossible reservation to get!】 【Is this sister actually a rich heiress?】 “What was that card? How did we just walk in? Three of us, plus three camera operators… ten grand each, you seriously…?” Jake looked at me with genuine concern. I nudged my chin at the card I’d just shown, which was now back in my hand. “Just a business card. Sometimes, knowing the right people works better than flashing a credit card.” 4 I didn’t just bring the camera crew inside; I even arranged a private room for the rest of the production staff. “Blair,” Mia said, glancing at her phone, “Brooke just texted, asking where we are. She wants to pay for us.” I chuckled. “Text her the address. Whether they come is their problem.” Jake looked at the table laden with exquisite dishes, giving me a thumbs-up from across the table. “Seriously rich.” This meal alone would easily run into six figures. I simply raised a brow, a knowing smile playing on my lips. Being rich was my least remarkable quality, and yet, it was undeniably the most practical. Soon, Brooke and Riley arrived, but it wasn’t them who first entered our private room. It was the restaurant manager. “Ms. Hayes, there are two individuals at the entrance claiming to be with your party.” I took a slow sip of my exorbitantly priced nutrient smoothie. “Ah, yes. They’re here to pay for me.” The manager scrutinized my expression, then immediately understood. “Understood. I’ll arrange it immediately.” Brooke and Riley never made it to our table. They waited by the entrance until we finished our meal. “Did you… did you use your own money?” Brooke pressed, her voice laced with an urgent curiosity. When they’d tried to enter the restaurant, the entrance fee alone had been twenty thousand dollars for the two of them. It felt like highway robbery. “Nope.” I waited for the valet to bring my car around. Brooke, unconvinced, followed me, pushing further. “You didn’t use your own money? Did the production team pay for you? Your meal was so expensive, even if the show is good for covering expenses, the place you chose was just… too much.” “Was it expensive?” I countered. Brooke pondered for a moment. “I know you wanted to experience something lavish, but the production team has a budget. What you did was a bit inappropriate. Maybe you should sign an IOU with the show? They’re so understanding, you can pay them back slowly.” “Brooke,” Jake interjected, sensing the need to protect his nominal partner, “Blair didn’t pay for the meal.” He, too, saw an opportunity to earn some goodwill from the audience. I understood his motive and didn’t mind giving him a little boost. Brooke froze. “Didn’t pay? What do you mean? Did you just… dine and dash?” Jake didn’t know how to explain. The meal had made it clear to him that my identity was far from ordinary. So, faced with Brooke’s relentless questioning, he simply fell silent. “Ms. Hayes, our owner just called specifically to prepare a gift for you.” The restaurant manager hurried out, carrying a selection of jewelry and a set of car keys. “How terribly gauche,” I muttered, taking the items and tossing them to Mia. I didn’t bother to explain further, simply got into my car and drove off. Mia held up the jewelry, comparing each piece to her ears. “Blair, these earrings are beautiful!” Her eyes sparkled. “Good,” I replied. “When we get back, run my bath. I need to soak.” “No problem, Blair! With me here, you can just relax.” She promptly put the earrings on herself. Back at the filming location, after my bath in Mia’s room, she told me everyone was gathering downstairs. I emerged, still wearing a face mask. “Tomorrow, each pair of partners will choose one person to take the other home for dinner. You can meet family or friends.” The director had barely finished speaking when Riley suddenly stood up. “Director, I’d like to switch partners.” Riley’s announcement stunned everyone. Brooke, in particular, looked flushed with shy pleasure, clearly flattered that Riley would openly defy the show for her. Only I watched Riley with an amused, knowing glint in my eyes. “You want to switch partners, Riley? Is it because you don’t want to go to my house, or are you worried about Mia coming to yours?” “Then again, if I were you, I’d be scared too.”

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