Category: English

Yesterday, scrolling through my husband’s iCloud photos, I found the bed shots. Him and some woman. At that exact moment, he was downstairs playing the perfect dad, helping our son Leo with his online class. When the lesson ended, I heard him laying on the virtue thick: “Hey buddy, did you really listen to the teacher? That story was great, wasn’t it? It’s all about how a man needs to be loyal and dependable.” I snapped a picture of that touching scene and posted it online. My friends flooded the comments with praise for “Dad of the Year.” Including her. … Leo had back-to-back online classes. He hates them. If someone isn’t watching him like a hawk, he’ll either nod off or start tearing into his mystery toy boxes. Seeing Steve glued to Leo’s side in the study, I figured I had some free time. Put on a face mask, browsed Amazon a bit. Ding-dong. “DoorDash!” That’s weird, I thought. Our housekeeper, Maria, cooked today. I didn’t order anything. Not wanting to disturb the class, I rushed to the door. Took the bag from the delivery guy, mumbled thanks, and quietly shut the door. I ripped open the packaging right there in the hall and almost stormed into the study to start screaming. But seeing Leo actually concentrating stopped me. Staring back at me was a box of Plan B. Steve and I have been together for years, and he’s always the one who takes care of protection. Why the hell would he order Plan B and have it sent here? Did hitting the jackpot – marrying into money and finally making his own – go straight to his head? Does this guy, who clawed his way up from nothing, suddenly think he’s some kind of king? But wait, that made no sense either. I’m on my period right now. He knows that. Besides, we just talked about this. His company’s finally stable, my family actually respects him now, and I was ready to focus more on home. We decided we wanted to try for a second kid. So why would he buy me Plan B? Wouldn’t getting pregnant be a good thing according to our plan? Unless… the pill wasn’t meant for me. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Just then, Steve’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. Normally, I wouldn’t stoop to checking his phone. It’s pathetic. But instinct screamed at me, right now, you need to look. I typed in Leo’s birthday. The phone unlocked. A new text message glared up at me. Bright and blinding. “Where’s that Plan B you ordered?? Still hasn’t shown up. Guess I’ll just risk my body so you can get off!” My vision blurred. I bit my lip so hard it hurt. My eyes started to sting. Another message popped up. “Even if the pill doesn’t come, YOU better.” Short texts, but every word stabbed me. I stumbled back, grabbing the coffee table to steady myself. My stomach churned like I’d swallowed acid. So that’s it. He messed up the delivery address. Sent it home by mistake. This Plan B was supposed to be for cleaning up his mess tonight. With his mistress. I glanced towards the study, at the father and son focused on the screen. The rage burning inside me was enough to march in there and tear him a new one, humiliate him completely. But I had to weigh the consequences. Blowing up now… what would I gain? What would I lose? After a moment, I marked the texts as unread and tossed the phone back where I found it. 2 For years, people have looked at my life and thought I had it all, like luck just followed me around. But even if you’re lucky enough to be born rich, you still need the brains and guts to hold onto it. If I didn’t have my own skills, I’d just be another spoiled brat who blew through her inheritance. I wouldn’t have the life I have today. Staying calm under pressure – that’s rule number one for success. I took the box of Plan B upstairs, quietly. After hiding it under the bed, I logged into Steve’s iCloud account. He never really used it. I set it up for him ages ago when I forgot my own password and needed to save some files I bought on Amazon. I remembered clicking “auto-backup photos” back then. Once I logged in, tucked away in the backed-up photos, were pictures and videos you’d usually have to pay to see. Steve, oh Steve. I supported you all the way, helped you climb the ladder, turn your life around, and this is how you repay me? By making your own private porn collection? Honestly, the girl had a killer body. Flawless skin, curves in all the right places. Everything a guy could want. Even as a woman, I had to admire her dedication to fitness. But she had no damn business sprawling that meticulously maintained body all over my husband. When Leo finished his classes, Steve practically sprinted upstairs. He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, fidgeting. “Honey, honey, I’m so sorry He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, fidgeting. “Honey, honey, I’m so sorry, a client just called, a major client. Gotta run, emergency meeting.” I watched him throw on his most expensive suit, slicking his hair back with gel. Right then, he just seemed utterly disgusting. A greasy middle-aged man, losing his mind the second some young girl beckons. A typical scumbag who starts thinking with his dick the moment he gets a little money. How could I have shared a bed with this person for seven years? I flashed back to when that girl interviewed for a job at my company. I was leading the interview panel that day. Steve popped in for a minute while she was there, just to discuss some business stuff with me. She must have clocked him then, targeted him right from the start. Yes. I knew who the girl was. 3 About a year ago, our company was hiring livestream hosts. She applied. She made quite an impression, mostly because everything she wore was a knockoff, right down to the sliver of sock peeking out – a high-end fake of some luxury brand. My guess was, back then, she hadn’t landed a sugar daddy yet, someone dumb enough to buy her the real deal. Anyone decked out head-to-toe in fakes is obsessed with appearances, desperate to look richer than they are. During the interview, I asked her what her dream was. She was surprisingly honest. Without missing a beat, she said it was having guys – “whales,” she called them – shower her with virtual gifts, like rockets, during her streams. Then I asked her what the key to successful livestream selling was. Her answer? Get users to fall for her face and body first. Turn them into fans, get them hooked, and then they’ll blindly buy whatever she pushes. Needless to say, she didn’t get the job. I wouldn’t let someone with that kind of toxic mindset into my company. Later, she added me on social media, asking about the interview status. I politely turned her down. My friends list was huge, I hadn’t cleaned it up in ages, so she was still lurking there. After Leo was asleep, I curled up in bed and scrolled through her profile, post by post. She’d been very active this past year. Photos of thousand-dollar Kobe beef dinners, ten-thousand-dollar-a-night presidential suites, hundred-thousand-dollar limited-edition handbags – she had it all. And in every single one of these “look how rich I am” photos, there was her posing beautifully… and a man’s hand. Others might not recognize that hand, but I knew it instantly. It was the same hand that held mine as we walked down the aisle. Now, that hand was busy exploring another woman’s body, groping and grabbing. So, the Plan B got sent to the wrong address. But maybe showing up without protection was even better for his little plan? Memories flooded back. Me, screaming in agony in the delivery room. Him, kneeling on the floor for what felt like hours, praying. “God, please, keep my wife and child safe. I’ll go vegan, I’ll do good deeds for the rest of my life, just please…” Us, caught in a downpour while picking up inventory. Him, taking off his jacket to cover me, grabbing everything heavy, shouldering the whole load. Family gatherings. Him, constantly saying how lucky he was, how marrying me changed his life, how he owed everything to his wonderful wife. All those moments made me believe he was a good man, someone I could trust my life with. I never, ever imagined my husband would betray our family, betray me. Well, fine. If he had the balls to do it, I had the brains to make them both pay. Neither of them was getting off easy. 4 The next day, Steve dragged himself home, looking exhausted. Must have been quite the workout last night. A 40-year-old man trying to keep up with a girl barely out of her teens. No wonder he looked drained. He must have figured out the Plan B mix-up. He started beating around the bush, avoiding my eyes. “Honey, Maria’s dinner last night wasn’t great, was it? Maybe we should have just ordered takeout.” I wasn’t in the mood for games. I cut straight to what he really wanted to know. “Maria’s food was fine. Didn’t order anything yesterday, but some Plan B showed up. Must have been a wrong address. I told the delivery guy to take it back.” A flicker of awkwardness crossed Steve’s face, but he recovered quickly. Years in business had made him a master of damage control. He put on an exaggerated look of disgust. “Ugh, Plan B? Seriously? Some guys are so irresponsible. Just use protection, you know? That stuff is terrible for a woman’s body.” I changed the subject. “I’m taking Leo to his piano lesson soon, then meeting a friend. You look wiped out from that ‘client meeting.’ Why don’t you go upstairs and rest?” Without waiting for a reply, I went to change, grabbed Leo, and walked out the door. I really was meeting a friend. The only one who could help me with this. 5 My friend, Sarah, is a headhunter. I told her I needed to hire a new female livestream host – drop-dead gorgeous, amazing body. I mentioned I was willing to pay 50% above the going rate. Sarah dropped everything to meet me. Obviously. A higher salary meant a bigger commission for her. We spent the whole morning interviewing over a dozen candidates. They were pretty, sure, but they all looked the same. Same skinny frame, same sharp nose, same big eyes with heavy makeup. And the moment they opened their mouths, the shallowness poured out. I kept shaking my head, making little ‘tsk’ sounds. Sarah finally sighed. “Okay, boss lady, you gotta give me more specifics. What exactly are you looking for?” I snapped my fingers as if an idea just hit me. “Right! You know, that one girl you sent over before… uh… what was her name… Ashley? Yeah, Ashley. She might work. Can you try to get her back in here?” The whole point of the morning’s charade was to make Sarah believe I was genuinely recruiting, not targeting someone specific. Sarah’s sharp as a tack. If I’d just asked for Ashley outright, she’d smell a rat and start digging. And I couldn’t just call Ashley directly. The trap had to be set perfectly, following all the proper channels.

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For the tenth time, my fiancée got a call right before the wedding, and for the tenth time, she ran off with her childhood best friend. I stood alone at the altar, once again a complete laughingstock. Swallowing my pride, I tried to contact her, begging her to come back and finish the ceremony. But she wouldn’t even pick up her phone! Her so-called “friend,” Chad, smugly sent me a picture of the two of them in bed together, boasting, “I win!” My heart turned to ice. We’d planned this wedding ten times, and each time, it was postponed. The officiant looked at me with pity. “Do you… do you want to continue the ceremony?” I forced a smile. “Yes! We’re doing this!” I sent a text to my next-door neighbor, Sarah, and after getting her affirmative response, I breathed a sigh of relief and told the officiant to wait a few more minutes. This was my tenth attempt at getting married, and I wasn’t letting it fall apart again. Sarah arrived quickly, her confident and powerful presence immediately drawing attention. She strode towards the center of the stage, standing beside me, her smile sweet. “Changed your mind, huh, Ricky?” I nodded. It was just a marriage to appease the families, and anyone could fill the role. Besides… Grandma’s health couldn’t wait any longer. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating for the past six months. Every time I visited her, she would murmur about wanting to see me married before she died. She was the closest person to me my entire life, and her only wish was to see me find someone I could rely on. That way, after she passed, I wouldn’t be alone and taken advantage of. Watching her grow weaker by the day, I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving with that regret, so I started to take the whole marriage thing seriously. My fiancée, Tiffany, had promised me she’d marry me. But through ten weddings, she’d been a no-show every single time. Leaving me to be ridiculed across the entire city, again and again. And her excuses all involved her childhood best friend, Chad. Chad never had anything going on, except on my wedding days. Then he was either in a bad mood, having a depressive episode, or freaking out over a horror movie and needing someone to hold his hand. The most ridiculous one was when he impulsively decided he wanted to do a wedding photoshoot, and called Tiffany to be his stand-in bride. I wasn’t allowed to express the slightest bit of frustration with these ridiculous reasons. If I sent a text message asking questions, I would be met with a barrage of angry texts. “Ricky, can’t you be understanding for once? Chad is my best friend; he needs me right now. We can have the wedding any day! Stop being so petty, okay?” But ten times… ten times of abandonment and betrayal, finally exhausted my patience. This time, I wasn’t going to wait around. After finally letting go, I realized my heart didn’t hurt so much. Maybe I was just numb. Or maybe Grandma’s words gave me strength. “Our Ricky is such a good boy. I hope that after I’m gone, you find someone who loves you, someone who will protect you and won’t let you get hurt.” The image of Grandma’s wrinkled face flashed in my mind, giving me the courage I needed. I couldn’t let the people who loved me down. So I took Sarah’s hand, and together we walked down the aisle, her already changed into a wedding gown. I had to put on the best show possible, so that Grandma would be happy when she watched the recording. As we exchanged rings, my phone pinged. It was Tiffany. She hadn’t realized her mistake and was still talking to me like nothing had happened. [Ricky, be a dear and buy some pain relievers and bring them over. Don’t make me angry.] The address was for a well-known couple’s retreat on the coast. Then another ping. It was a picture of two people in bed. The sender was Chad. And my fiancée was one of the protagonists. [I win again!] More than the pain of being betrayed, I felt disgust. On my wedding day, my bride was at a romantic getaway with another man. I involuntarily clenched my fist, digging my nails into my palm. 2 Eventually, I went to the retreat. This relationship was over for me. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Tiffany after this. So, I wanted to break up with Tiffany in person, and to get the house keys back. After all, she was living in a house that I had paid for in full! When I arrived, Tiffany saw that I was empty-handed. Immediately, she blew up. “Ricky, what’s wrong with you? Where are the pain pills I asked for?” Chad sat on the edge of the bed, looking pathetic. “Tiffany, don’t be mad. Ricky’s been planning the wedding all day; he’s probably tired.” He knew that the bride had been called away by him, but he still managed to say it as if nothing had happened. Even though my heart was already shattered, being mocked like this still made it ache. My fingers slowly clenched, nearly drawing blood. Disappointed to this level, I didn’t even have the desire to be angry anymore. The room in the couple’s retreat was cramped and suggestive, almost suffocating me. Tiffany and I had been together since college. At first, she pursued me so passionately and intensely that I gradually fell for her. Once we were together, she remembered every little holiday and always had a gift or surprise. Even when I was being a jerk, she would always take the blame, patiently coaxing me. My friends always said how lucky I was to have such a great girlfriend. I thought the same thing, which is why I decided to marry her after graduation. But everything changed the day Tiffany’s childhood friend, Chad, came back to the States. After that, Tiffany’s heart was completely lost to an outsider. Between Chad and me, I was always the one left behind. Tiffany playfully ruffled Chad’s hair. “Aw, you’re the best.” Then she came closer to me, frowning at me in disapproval. “Why didn’t you answer my messages?” My repeated concessions had only led to Tiffany becoming more demanding. It was she who abandoned the wedding and me, yet she started by blaming me. I tried to calm myself, my voice cold. “I forgot.” Tiffany paused, seemingly shocked by my tone. I coldly looked up at Tiffany. “Tiffany, you’ve bailed again today.” Hearing this, a guilty expression flashed in her eyes, and she angrily tried to defend herself. “It wasn’t on purpose! Chad wasn’t feeling well, I couldn’t just leave him, could I?” “We can have the wedding another day, right? Ricky, stop being so unreasonable, okay?” She was clearly in the wrong, yet she was trying to put the blame on me. I didn’t want to argue anymore, and, suppressing my disgust, coldly uttered one sentence. “I don’t want to wait for you anymore. Let’s break up!” With that, I turned and walked away. “Ricky, what the hell did you just say?!” Tiffany yelled, immediately chasing after me. Just then, Chad “oohed” in pain. Then the sound of something shattering cut through the air. Confused, I stopped and turned around, and my eyes widened in shock. The shattered jade pendant on the ground was the one Grandma had gotten for me, praying for my safety, one step and one bow at a time! I was completely stunned, overwhelmed with anger. I pushed Tiffany aside and rushed over, carefully picking up the pieces of the pendant. “Why do you have my pendant?!” I stared at Chad, asking loudly. Tiffany came over, pouting in annoyance. “Ricky, what’s wrong with you? You’re scaring Chad.” I stared at Tiffany in disbelief. She knew how important this pendant was to me, but she could still say something like that. In an instant, a wave of helplessness washed over me. I dug my nails into my palms, drawing blood. It was always the same with Chad. I had to give in. But this time, it involved Grandma, and I wasn’t going to back down. I raised my hand and slapped Tiffany hard across the face. “If you’re blind, go to the doctor!” “He stole my grandma’s pendant without my permission, and he broke it! What right do you have to forgive him for me?” The room fell silent. No matter how angry I was, I had never raised a hand to her. Now it was Tiffany’s turn to be stunned. “You hit me? Ricky, I’m your fiancée, how dare you hit me?!” She lunged at me, grabbing my throat, squeezing so hard that I could barely breathe. She glared at me, her eyes filled with malice and hatred, as if she were looking at an enemy. I couldn’t help but wonder when the person who once looked at me with so much love had changed. I remembered when we weren’t even together yet, and I had posted a picture on social media of a cut less than two millimeters deep. Tiffany had waited outside my dorm at four in the morning, just to give me a box of bandages. Her eyes were bright and full of concern. It was at that moment that I was moved by her sincerity and agreed to date her. But only six months later, she was cursing at me for another man. Now I understood… That true love can change in an instant. 3 After completely losing all love for her, there was no point in arguing anymore. The sharp pain in my neck reminded me of how ridiculous my efforts had been. I just curled my lips into a self-deprecating smile. Chad peeked out from behind Tiffany. I unexpectedly met his eyes, which were full of mockery. My heart ached as if someone had stabbed it with a needle. The next second, his eyes turned red, and he said to me in a slightly resentful tone, “Ricky, don’t be mad. I just found the pendant, I was just going to return it to you.” He ruffled Tiffany’s hair. “Tiffany, don’t blame Ricky.” Tiffany calmed down and barely loosened her grip. “You’re the best, Chad.” “Ricky, can’t you be more like him?!” The pain of nearly suffocating made me tremble. Chad faked a comforting gesture, reaching out to me. “Ricky, will you forgive me?” His tone was almost flattering, but I clearly saw the challenge and ridicule in his eyes. As if he was saying arrogantly, “Yeah, I stole it and I broke it. What are you going to do about it?” I felt a chill and recoiled from his touch. Chad took the opportunity to scream and fall backward. “Ah!” He clutched his wrist, looking at me in terror. “Ricky, I just wanted to apologize…” I hadn’t even touched him, and I was already the villain who abused him. When Tiffany saw Chad fall, she immediately rushed to his side, helping him up, and then scolding me. “Ricky, didn’t you hear Chad say he found the pendant? Why are you taking it out on an innocent person?” I almost laughed at his words. I always cherished Grandma’s pendant. I kept it safely stored in a drawer in my bedroom. Found it? Did Chad somehow get into my house, then into my bedroom, and then found the pendant in my bedside table? I didn’t bother to expose his ridiculous lie, and sarcastically curled my lips. “Okay, I’ll call the police and have them investigate how Chad found my pendant!” “And I’ll hold you responsible for assaulting me today!” Chad panicked and immediately clutched his chest. “Tiffany, my heart hurts…” Hearing this, Tiffany didn’t care about anything anymore and helped Chad to the hospital. “Don’t worry, Chad, I won’t let anything happen to you!” As she passed by me, she glared at me with gritted teeth. “Ricky, you wait! If anything happens to Chad, I’m not letting you off the hook!” She intentionally bumped into my shoulder. Caught off guard, the force caused me to fall to the ground. But Tiffany didn’t even look at me, scoffing and leaving. 4 After they left, I was still sitting on the floor. That familiar face had become distorted, foreign, and terrifying. My throat became dry. Tears fell uncontrollably. Just as my emotions began to calm down, my phone rang. It was a call from the hospital. I answered without hesitation. Grandma’s condition had worsened, and she had been taken to the operating room. I didn’t care about anything, I staggered to my feet and ran out. I ran right into Sarah as I left the retreat. The girl had an aloof and refined air about her. She propped her hand on the car door, and her eyes lit up when she saw me. It was as if she had shown up just to wait for me. I didn’t have time to think about why she was here, so I got into the car and asked her to take me to the hospital. When I got to the hospital, Grandma had already been rescued by the doctors. I was relieved and stayed with her from the operating room to the ward. Because Sarah was with me, I decided to tell Grandma about our marriage to make her happy. Grandma looked through the pictures from our wedding on my phone album and smiled from the bottom of her heart. “Good, good! My Ricky has finally found a good woman!” Sarah sat nearby, answering whatever Grandma asked, very politely and without a hint of impatience. It wasn’t until the nurse reminded Grandma that it was time to rest that I got up and left with Sarah. Before leaving, Grandma whispered in my ear. “Sarah is a hundred times better than that Chad! I’m glad my grandson knows how to pick a wife!” My cheeks flushed red. I just mumbled a couple of words and fled the ward. Then I ran straight into Sarah. Sarah’s height was just below my chin, and the girl’s cool breath touched my skin. It made my heart skip a beat. “Did you hurt yourself?” I didn’t dare to look her in the eyes, so I asked dryly. “No…” Sarah seemed a little flustered, too. She took the payment slip from my hand to pay the bill, and my heart was still beating fast. I couldn’t help but accuse myself of being pathetic. I had only met her three times, and she was just my fake wife. How could I have feelings for her? I took a few deep breaths and finally calmed down. But I never expected to run into Tiffany and Chad as I was walking around the corner of the hallway! The two of them quickly separated when they saw me, and each of their faces flashed with a hint of guilt. I just glanced at them indifferently, without any emotional fluctuations, and wanted to leave. Tiffany quickly rushed over and grabbed my hand. “Ricky, it’s not what you think, don’t misunderstand!” I raised my eyes calmly. “You don’t need to explain to me, we’re not together anymore.” Perhaps unnerved by my gaze, Tiffany scratched her head in annoyance. “Tsk, is there any point in you saying these things? Chad wasn’t feeling well, so I hugged him to comfort him.” As she said this, she leaned closer to my ear and said in a voice that only the two of us could hear: “I promise you, we’ll have the wedding next week, okay?” “But Chad isn’t feeling well, I’m afraid he’ll be upset, so don’t tell him for now.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. If even a wedding had to be kept a secret, what was the point? I curled my lips into a cold smile, shaking my head: “No need.” I’m already married. I didn’t say the last half of the sentence. Because the woman in front of me wasn’t worth me wasting any more effort on. But my cold attitude made Tiffany anxious. She stopped me from leaving, her tone aggressive: “What do you mean, no need?” “Ricky, haven’t you always said you wanted to have a wedding and get married? Why no need?” The next second, a cool and familiar fruity scent enveloped me again. Sarah wrapped her arm around my arm, declaring her claim. “Because we’re already married!” “He’s mine now, some trash better leave!”

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My brother thinks he’s some kind of reincarnated angel. Before my interview, he poured bleach into my toner, making my face all red and swollen, peeling like crazy, so I blew my chance at the job. But he had the nerve to say he was giving the opportunity to someone who needed it more. Then he used my picture and my profile on some dating apps to harass girls, even going to those matchmaking events downtown trying to marry me off to a woman with a developmental disability. My reputation went down the drain. He claimed he was giving these “undesirable women” a chance at finding happiness. When the earthquake hit, the cell phone alert started counting down. My family scrambled to get out, but he pushed me back inside to save some stray cat. A beam crushed me, and he just stood there holding the cat, all full of sorrow. “Even a little cat has the right to live. Your life for its… it’s like good karma, dude.” My parents tried to save me, but the aftershocks got them too. They died right there. And my brother? He just bawled his eyes out over the stray cat and some stray dogs I guess he saved. Later on, his “selfless” actions during the quake, saving all those animals, made him a viral sensation. He took the insurance money from me and my parents’ deaths and lived it up, rich and famous. When I woke up again, I was back on the day the earthquake hit. 1. “Dude, why are you gonna marry Mrs. Henderson’s daughter from next door? She might have bipolar disorder, but she still has the right to get married and have kids. You’re a guy, enjoying all the privileges that come with it, so you should give back. By marrying her, she won’t be out there hurting other people.” My brother’s usual pitiful voice woke me up. Last time, without even asking me, he’d talked to Mrs. Henderson next door about me marrying her daughter. Without me knowing anything, he made up some excuse to send me over there with a “gift,” hoping Mrs. Henderson’s daughter, with her bipolar issues, would… well, you know. I was shocked and pissed. I fought my way out of there and demanded to know why he’d do something like that. And that was the BS answer he gave me. Bipolar patients are unstable. Sometimes they get violent. Why would I want to marry someone like that? He actually used that as an excuse to push me into the fire. We got into a huge fight, and not long after, the earthquake warning came. I insisted we get the family out of there. But my brother just shrugged it off, even accusing me of being selfish for not bringing the neighbors along. All that time wasted arguing… it cost us. When the big one hit, my brother was suddenly really quick. I was helping Mom and Dad behind him, and we were almost in the clear when he turned around and shoved me back inside. My body was crushed by a concrete slab. Next to me was some stray cat, frozen with fear. “The universe cares about all living beings, all lives matter. Trading your life for the cat’s… it’s not a loss, bro.” He kept that pathetic, pious look on his face. But my parents were devastated. They rushed over to save me, and the aftershocks took them down too. They were screaming for my brother to help them. But he just stared at Mom and Dad, cold as ice. “Mom, Dad, you’d be disabled if I got you out, and my brother’s already gone. You wouldn’t want me to shoulder all those medical bills. Just go in peace. I’ll visit you and my brother’s graves later.” Right after he said that, a huge steel plate came down and turned my parents into hamburger meat. After the earthquake, my brother was the only one left. He was covered in blood, all because he supposedly risked his life to save a stray cat. That’s what went viral. The insurance money from me and my parents? He donated it to the earthquake relief fund, got the whole internet singing his praises, and earned himself the “Saintly Dude” title. My brother made a career out of that compassionate image, becoming a streamer and raking in the dough. He even married some socialite, became a freaking millionaire. He built his success on the corpses of my family. Now I’m back, and I’m gonna make him wish he’d never been born. “If you feel so bad for them, why don’t you marry her? Stop laying this guilt trip on me.” I looked at my brother’s selfish, phony face, wanting to rip it to shreds. “I’m supposed to help more people. Can’t go around just getting married. You’re not getting any younger, dude. Marrying anyone is the same, so why not marry someone you know? She can help out around here. Isn’t that what kids are supposed to do?” My brother really didn’t see anything wrong with his suggestion. He even opened the door so everyone could get in on the argument. I knew the earthquake was coming, so I didn’t have time to argue. I needed to call Mom and Dad, tell them not to come home. Last time, they were out grocery shopping. They got home just as the earthquake alert went off and couldn’t get out in time. They should still be on the road, safe. But as soon as the call connected, my phone was snatched away and smashed on the ground. I turned and saw Mrs. Henderson’s daughter. 2. “You creep! My mom already gave your brother a hundred grand for the dowry! I’m your wife now! You better come home with me, or I’ll report you for sexuaully assaulting me!” I was in shock. I didn’t even know any of this had happened. Last time, Mrs. Henderson and her daughter died in the earthquake too. I had no clue. “I don’t know anything about a dowry! My brother took it! Go ask him!” I glared at my brother, my face twisting with rage. “Why did you take that money? Why didn’t Mom and Dad know anything about it?” My question made my brother step back, wearing a hurt, pitiful expression, like he was the victim. “I donated that money to poor kids in the mountains, so they could have warm clothes for the winter. Those kids are really suffering, bro. Don’t you have any sympathy at all?” My brother stood in the doorway with tears in his eyes, making sure all the neighbors saw the scene. “I already spent the money, man. If you don’t marry her, I’ll be charged with fraud. Are you really gonna let me go to jail just so you can be single? It’s not wrong for me to do good deeds, and it’s not wrong for me to set you up with a girl. I’m just trying to give you a family, and let Mrs. Henderson have a son-in-law to rely on. Isn’t that a win-win?” Then he pulled out his phone and showed the neighbors a video of the poor kids in the mountains thanking him for the donations. The neighbors saw the kids and melted, one by one starting to convince me. “Your brother has such a good heart! He’s doing good! How can you let him go to jail?” “Yeah, it’s just marrying someone. If your brother goes to jail, his future’s ruined!” The neighbors’ words made my brother look at me with challenge and triumph. He looked at me like a clown, never thinking I could escape his control. “I’m not marrying her. You go marry her.” I frowned and said firmly, turning to leave. Since the phone didn’t work, I’d just go downstairs, find Mom and Dad. 3. But before I could leave, Mrs. Henderson’s daughter lunged at me, eyes bloodshot, grabbing me. “Why won’t you marry me?! You took my family’s money! You’re mine now! If you run, I’ll break your legs!” She slapped me hard across the face, leaving scratches on my cheek. I frowned and tried to restrain her. But she was completely out of it, didn’t listen to reason. I was getting beaten to hell, covered in cuts and bruises. She was going on and on, clearly having an episode. “I’m gonna kill you! You were the one who came on to me, sending me nudes, saying you loved me! You tricked me out of my money!” “I never sent you any nudes! I never even talked to you! How could I trick you out of your money?” I was getting desperate. She smashed me in the face with her phone. Mrs. Henderson’s daughter pulled up a message on her phone, shoving it in my face. “Look at this! Isn’t that you? You added me on social media and were all over me!” I looked at the messages on her phone, my eyes wide with horror. The profile picture and name were mine, but I never talked to this woman, never even added her. I grabbed the phone, scrolled up, and found pictures of me changing clothes and sleeping. Some of them looked like they were taken when I was asleep, with my shirt pulled up. I looked up at my brother, knowing the only person who could sneak into my room at night was him. He’d once planted a hidden camera in my room. He’d stolen my photos and posted them on a park bulletin board and in the neighborhood chat, leaving my number. He said I was lonely and looking for a girlfriend for casual hookups. I was harassed and even taken in for questioning a few times by the police, and even got cornered and beat up in an alley a few times. I reported it to the police and found out my brother had done it. I confronted him. He said if I sacrificed myself to give those single older women some relief, it would be a good deed. It was awful. I ended up moving into my dorm just to get away from him. And now it was happening again. The old nightmares and the current pain washed over me, filled me with rage. “Why are you doing this? Why do you want to ruin me?” My furious glare made my brother look guilty for a second, but then his face turned pitiful and innocent. “What are you talking about, bro? I was born to help people. I don’t have time to ruin you. You’ve always been a womanizer, hooking up with women. Everyone in the neighborhood knows. Now someone’s willing to overlook your disgusting habits and marry you. You should be grateful, not blame me!” My brother’s words made Mrs. Henderson’s daughter even more angry. Her punches got harder. Even though I was a guy, it hurt like hell. I tried to get the neighbors to help hold her down, but then my brother spoke up again. “You’re not exactly an innocent flower, bro. You wouldn’t be getting beat up if you weren’t messing around. I saw you going to the clinic for STDs. Now someone’s willing to overlook your issues. Marry her before you infect the whole neighborhood!” The neighbors held their noses and backed away, looking at me like I was diseased. “I knew he was shady. He was always so quiet, but his private life is disgusting.” “Yeah, no wonder the cops are always calling him. He deserves it. He’s a pervert!” 4. Hearing my brother and the neighbors, Mrs. Henderson’s daughter hit me harder. “I’m sure you should ask for forgiveness, brother, to save yourself from some pain.” My brother stood there watching me get beaten up, without any worry. It was like I was a stranger. “You creep! You scum! I’m gonna kill you! If you don’t marry me, I’ll take those pics to the police! I’ll say you sexually assaulted me!” Mrs. Henderson’s daughter kept hitting me, and the earthquake was coming. If I didn’t get out of this, I wouldn’t be able to escape. To survive, I had to swallow my pride. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll marry you! Okay?” I gave in, and Mrs. Henderson’s daughter finally stopped, looking at me suspiciously. “You really wanna marry me?” I took a breath and nodded sadly. “I’ll marry you, but you can’t hit me or my parents.” I looked defeated, so the woman thought I was giving up. The neighbors all laughed. “I told you he was trash. He was acting all high and mighty, but he folded as soon as he got beat up.” “Right? He deserved it.” I hid my anger and ignored the pain. I stood up, saying I was going home to get my documents to get a marriage license. I had to escape before my parents got back. I had to get out of this building to escape the earthquake, then I could deal with the aftermath. Mrs. Henderson’s daughter cheered, wanting to go home to get her papers. I acted calm, hiding my anger. I just had one goal: get home. I had a spare phone in my room. If I got it, I could call my parents and tell them not to come back. I could call the cops to get me out of here. Each step, I was terrified. I had to keep myself from running, because if I failed, I wouldn’t have another chance. Just as I touched the doorknob, my brother spoke. “I know where the papers are. I’ll get them for you. You’re gonna marry her, so shouldn’t you be bonding with her right now?” My brother’s eyes were mocking me, like he knew what I was planning. “Or are you gonna go inside and call the cops? She might have hit you, but she’s sick. You can’t send her to jail!” I turned and glared at my brother. And then Mrs. Henderson’s daughter grabbed my hair, slapping me across the face. “You jerk! I knew you were just saying that to get me to marry you! I’m gonna teach you a lesson!” She was strong, and I couldn’t break free. She dragged me into the house. “Let go of me! If you keep pulling, I’m gonna hit you back!” I grabbed the wall. I didn’t want to hit a woman. But she didn’t stop, pulling me harder, like I was her prey. The neighbors just watched. “Ding ding ding. Earthquake Alert. Earthquake Alert. Earthquake in thirty seconds. Please evacuate.” Suddenly, Mrs. Henderson’s daughter’s phone blared an earthquake warning. I knew it was my last chance to escape. I couldn’t worry about being “nice,” so I grabbed a vase from the shoe rack by the door and smashed it over Mrs. Henderson’s daughter’s head. 5. The vase shattered, and Mrs. Henderson’s daughter fell. I kicked her to the side and ran. I opened the door and saw my brother standing outside, like he was expecting me. He saw the blood and grabbed me, shouting. “My brother’s a murderer! Stop him!” I heard the earthquake alert. I didn’t have time to argue, so I screamed at my brother. “The earthquake’s coming! Why are you stopping me?” The neighbors heard my brother and came out, pinning me down. “There are small earthquakes all the time, and you can’t run from big ones! There’s too many of these warnings! Who goes running every time? You’re just saying that to escape! We’re not falling for it.” “Not only is he a pig, but he’s a killer! How can such a nice guy have a brother like that?” The neighbors were convinced I was running because I was guilty, so they didn’t listen to my warnings. I couldn’t move. More and more people were getting the earthquake alert. But they didn’t care. They just wanted to hold me down and let my brother yell at me. “You said you’d marry her! How could you do something like that? Even if you’re mad she hit you, you can’t kill her! I’m so disappointed! Sis-in-law, do whatever you want to him! I won’t stop you!” I heard insults and mockery. The earthquake alert was ticking like my life was fading away. “Earthquake warning countdown, ten, nine, eight…” As the timer hit zero, the earth started shaking. I pushed my brother away and ran downstairs. This time, my parents weren’t upstairs. If I got down, I’d be safe. We were on the sixth floor. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could. People were running everywhere, and I heard the elevator cables snapping. Screams and shouts mixed together, and everyone was terrified. People were getting trampled to death. I followed the path that I followed last time, where there were fewer people, and as I got to the exit, about to escape, someone grabbed my hair and pulled me back. “Die, bro!” I looked at my brother’s evil eyes.

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I dated Ethan for eight years. Eight years of missed birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays because his “girl-best-friend” always had some kind of emergency. “Dinner can wait! Jessica’s completely wasted, and who knows what could happen to a girl like her alone at a bar?” He’d said, time and again. I looked him straight in the eye, trying to keep my voice calm. “If you ditch my parents again, we’re done.” He hesitated, his departure momentarily stalled. Then, he scoffed. “Seriously, Chloe? Are you always going to resort to ultimatums every time you don’t get your way? I can’t keep putting up with your drama!” And with that, he was gone. The door slammed shut, and I numbly called my parents to cancel. This wasn’t working. This was Ethan’s apartment. I splashed some water on my face in the bathroom and started packing. I didn’t have much to take – a single suitcase would do. Ethan always acted like I was a spoiled heiress who had no concept of money. He’d given me the cold shoulder, turning me into a ghost in his apartment, when I bought designer things; he once said he couldn’t afford someone like me if I wanted to marry him. But I was only buying my daily necessities. After that, I started keeping my expensive stuff in my own house – a villa downtown – and only kept the cheap things here. I stood in the living room, suitcase in hand, and glanced back at everything I had known. Ethan was right – he couldn’t afford me. Even though he seemed like some hotshot, young assistant professor, he wouldn’t have been able to afford this place if I hadn’t pulled some strings and secretly covered most of the down payment. I couldn’t even brag about it. I was afraid he’d reject the apartment and accuse me of being pretentious. My eyes started to sting, and a wave of hurt washed over me. Taking a deep breath, I pushed down the tears and started for the door. Just then, click-clack – the front door opened from the outside, and a singsong voice chirped, “Ethan! I saw the code you punched in. Next time, I’m just coming right in!” She was being playful. Ethan’s voice, normally so casual, was low and serious. “Come whenever you want, it’s my place anyway…” He didn’t finish the sentence because he saw me. “Chloe…” He frowned slightly, as if about to say something, then noticed the suitcase. “Traveling for work?” His face was flat. “We broke up,” I said. “So I’m moving out.” Jessica’s face was comically exaggerated, and her mouth drooped into an exaggerated frown. “No way! You’re breaking up with him just because he picked me up?” I didn’t want to waste energy on her. Jessica’s act was so transparent. Even the worst “pick me” girl I’d ever met had better acting skills. But it didn’t matter. Ethan always sided with her, and I always lost. I started pushing my suitcase towards the door. Jessica, ignored, gave Ethan a pointed shrug. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “Who are you giving the stink eye to? When are you going to get over your spoiled rich-girl attitude, Chloe? You can’t always run away when things don’t go your way!” I gripped the suitcase handle tightly, barely managing to hold back the tears. I forced my voice to stay even. “You don’t have to put up with me anymore. Goodbye.” Terrified he’d see me cry, I practically ran out the door. Behind me, Jessica’s voice was shrill. “Seriously, what’s her deal?” “She leaves behind a house full of stuff. She’s overreacting, right?” “Bro, I feel so bad for you. Working your butt off all day and coming home to deal with a diva, how miserable.” My pace quickened until their voices faded away entirely. Back at my house, I saw that Liam had texted. [I land tomorrow at 3 PM. Dinner?] The next second, my mom called, thrilled that Mrs. Thompson told Liam that I was going on a date, and Liam booked a flight home, and made his mom tell my mom to not let me go out with anyone else. Liam and I were close growing up. The year I wanted to bring Ethan home to meet my parents, he left for Europe. We never spoke again. I didn’t know that… I replied. [I’ll pick you up tomorrow.] 2 I had trouble sleeping. I didn’t wake up until 11 AM because the doorbell was ringing. Annoyed, I ran a hand through my hair and headed downstairs. It was Ethan. I was completely awake now, all the sleepiness evaporated. I stared at him, a strange buzzing feeling in my arm. “What…what are you doing here?” Ethan’s expression softened when he saw my disheveled appearance. It looked like he wanted to judge me. I expected him to call me lazy. After a moment, he said, “I came to take you to lunch.” He paused, his tone a fraction gentler. “I was out of line yesterday. I made things difficult with your parents. It won’t happen again.” “There won’t be a next time.” I stopped myself. Saying anything felt useless. I’d said everything I could say. I’d said it a million times. If it made any difference, we wouldn’t be here. “I’m having lunch with a friend. I can’t.” I started to close the door, but he pushed against it. “I thought I told you to stop hanging around with those deadbeats. All they do is drink and party. They’re parasites. Hang around them too much, and you’ll end up just like them!” His contempt stole my breath, but I laughed. “Drinking and partying is what your best friend does, right? And you’re around her all the time.” His face went cold instantly. “Don’t you dare compare Jessica to your lowlife friends, Chloe! I laughed. “Fine. Get out of the way. I’m closing the door.” He pressed on. “It’s almost noon, and you’re still sleeping. You need to be on my watch all the time or else you slack off, you don’t have goals. What’s the difference between that and walking dead?” “Ethan!” I snapped, my voice shaking. “It’s none of your business! We broke up!” He was silent, looking at me as if he couldn’t process what I’d said. After so many years, I’d never said the word “breakup” and never moved out. I’d always been the one on the defensive. Seeing that lost look on his face was something new. He looked at me, then softened his tone. “Just come to lunch. It’s not good to skip meals. We can talk it through.” I balled my hands into fists. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” He closed his eyes, fighting his irritation. “Chloe, stop acting like a kid. We’ve been together for eight years. You’re ending it over one fight? How do you think that makes me feel?” How did he think? He only cared about his “best friend.” It seemed like I had to eat lunch, so I agreed to make a point and leave him for good. I got dressed and walked with him to the parking lot. I reached for the passenger door. Ethan opened the door first. “Sit in the back. Jessica’s still learning to drive, so I need to be in the passenger seat to help her.” I froze. Jessica poked her head out, waving cheerfully. “Hey, Chloe! I’m your chauffeur today!” 3 Ethan glanced at me, waiting for me to move. “Jessica’s here to apologize.” Jessica giggled. “Sorry, Chloe! I got drunk last night, so Ethan bailed on you. I am so sorry! I’m buying lunch as my way of saying sorry, so don’t break up with him.” I took a breath, rolling my eyes as I grabbed my purse and walked towards the house. Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Where are you going?” I smiled at him. “Jessica is buying, right? I know a great restaurant, but it’s hard to find. I’ll drive ahead and lead you. Then, I have to go to the airport to pick up a friend.” He frowned, lowering his voice. “Jessica isn’t a spoiled brat like you, okay? Don’t pick an expensive place.” I ignored him and looked at Jessica. “Jessica, can I pick the restaurant?” Jessica agreed immediately. “Sure!” We stopped at my favorite five-star restaurant. As we got out, I saw Jessica give Ethan a brave, forced smile, before acting defeated. “Let’s go.” Ethan glared at me. I ignored him, and when we got inside, a server handed each of us a menu. Before the meal, Jessica and Ethan ordered salad. I ate heartily, ignoring their glares. When the bill came, it was $3,600. Jessica gasped. “How is that possible?!” The waiter smiled politely. “This bottle of wine was $1,999.99.” She looked pale, slowly pulling out her phone. Her gaze flickered to Ethan. Ethan sighed and gave the server his card. “I’ll pay.” Jessica’s face brightened. I scoffed. That explained why she agreed so quickly. As we left the restaurant, Ethan said to Jessica, “Wait for me in the car.” He caught up to me, grabbing my wrist. “Chloe! Are you only happy when you’re flexing? I thought you were different from those losers, but you’re just like them!” I met his gaze. “I’m not trying to flex. This is just my normal. She said she was paying, so I did what I wanted. Don’t be bitter.” “Don’t you have any empathy? Don’t you know her financial situation?” I raised an eyebrow. “Then why did she say I can pick the place?” He started to shout. I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, I don’t do charades.” I took my arm back and went to the airport. I heard Ethan shouting in the background. Later, when I arrived at the airport, I hugged Liam hello. We got dinner later. It was still early, so I asked him to hang out because he just came back. But, suddenly, it turned into me shopping. Liam was following behind, holding all my bags, without complaining. I just entered a store, and I heard shouting. “I bought it here. The tags are still on. Why can’t I return it?” Jessica? 4 The sales associate kept smiling. “I am sorry, ma’am. Lamerpremen items can only be exchanged within two weeks of purchase. Because you don’t have a receipt, we can’t return the product. Sorry.” “It’s a real product! You can check it!” Jessica and Ethan were by the checkout stand. “Sorry ma’am, we don’t do returns.” Jessica kept yelling. I was over this and wanted to leave. But she was holding a silk blouse, and I paused. When I packed, I couldn’t find this shirt. How did Jessica have it? I was angry, and I interrupted Jessica. “Can you speak English? They don’t do returns, okay? It doesn’t matter if it’s real or not.” Jessica froze. The sales associates looked relieved. Ethan’s face was cold. He probably wanted to yell at me, but he noticed Liam. He turned towards me, confused. “Who is this?” I grabbed the shirt from Jessica’s hand. “Jessica, I lost the same shirt. Where did you get this?” Jessica’s breath hitched. She was guilty. She couldn’t answer. Ethan frowned. “Chloe, are you saying she stole it from you?” Jessica became more aggressive. “Liam gave this to me! He knew this! You’re just mad because I look good in it!” Liam laughed. “Lamerpremen has one of everything.” The sales associate smiled. “Ma’am, this is a real shirt.” Jessica looked pale. Ethan frowned. “I didn’t, I… ” She started crying to Ethan. Liam put the bags down and rapped the counter. “Call the police.” The sales associate nodded, and the phone beeped. “Ethan!” Jessica cried. “I got drunk and threw up. I took a shower and borrowed a shirt. I forgot about it. There were so many shirts; I couldn’t keep track…” Ethan sighed, looking disgusted. He turned to me. “Chloe, I didn’t know she did this. I never cared…” The sales associate dialed 9-1-1, and Jessica jumped and grabbed the phone. “Stay out of it! We can fix this!” The sales associate jumped back, shocked. Ethan’s face became colder. He pinched the bridge of his nose, like he used to do when I had no goals. I said, “The shirt will be paid for. Or go to jail.” Ethan nodded. “She will pay for the shirt. Chloe, I am so sorry.” He looked at Liam, then softened his tone. “Come home. I didn’t like the nights alone.” Liam stared at the sales associate, and smiled. “My girlfriend loves your new shirt. Wrap it up.” The sales associate blushed. Ethan’s face flushed. “Girlfriend?

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Six months ago, my wife vanished without a trace. Six months later, I watched her get bought by another man, like some kind of toy. It all started with that trip she took. 1. My wife’s name was Sarah. Twenty-nine years old, with looks and a figure that could give some B-list actresses a run for their money. The kind of drop-dead gorgeous woman who turns every head on the street, twice. That day, Sarah said a girlfriend had invited her on a trip, and she’d be back in a couple of days. I didn’t ask where she was going, just told her to be safe. I even Venmo’d her five hundred bucks. But three days later, her phone went straight to voicemail. Then, nothing. Complete radio silence. I rushed down to the police station to file a missing person report. The officer told me the last place her phone pinged was at LAX. Based on my description of the situation, the cops guessed Sarah might have ended up somewhere south of the border, maybe Mexico, maybe further. Hearing “south of the border” immediately brought to mind all those horror stories you see online – cartel kidnappings, organ harvesting, human trafficking, electric shocks, women being abused… terrifying stuff. That day, practically choking back tears, I begged the police to do whatever it took to bring her back. But they told me they could only do their best. After all, nobody knew for sure if she’d really gone down there. A month later, a video clip from my buddy Nate confirmed the police’s hunch. Sarah was definitely somewhere bad, caught up in something dangerous. It felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. My wife, always so careful, so cautious – how could she end up in a place like that? The video was maybe twenty seconds long. Through the shaky camera work, you could tell it was a big casino. At least twenty gambling tables visible. Gamblers totally engrossed in their games. And there was Sarah, wearing a skimpy black bikini, bunny ears perched on her head. Smiling the whole time as she dealt cards at one of the tables. Seeing that, one term immediately jumped into my head: casino bunny dealer. Sarah hated gambling with a passion. How the hell did she end up dealing cards in some shady casino down south? No, impossible, this isn’t real, I thought. But it was unmistakably Sarah. What made my blood boil, though, was seeing guys openly groping her. Shoving cash into her bikini top. Slapping her ass. Filthy grins plastered on their faces. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. I was shaking with rage. 2 After watching the video, the first thing I did was track down Nate. Nate used to have a serious gambling problem, but he cleaned up his act and now runs a local poker room. He told me he saw the video circulating in some online group. Recognizing Sarah as the dealer, he forwarded it to me immediately. Nate said the casino she was in was one of the biggest, most notorious operations down there – the “Golden Paradise.” He told me that place didn’t just make money off gambling. They had plenty of other shady, illegal ways to turn a profit. Things like running phone scams, even black market organ trading, were supposedly routine. But the quickest, safest money-maker for them was selling women. Those scum categorized the women they lured or trafficked into four types for sale. Exactly what those categories were, Nate didn’t know. Nate’s words reminded me of a picture Sarah posted on her Instagram three days before she disappeared – a selfie with her “girlfriend.” Damn it. It had to be that bitch who tricked Sarah into going down there. That absolute piece of trash. Don’t let me ever find her. “Nate, man, I know you’ve got connections. You gotta help me figure something out. Anything to get Sarah back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m begging you, man.” “Luke, don’t be like that. You and Sarah helped me out a ton back when I was deep in my gambling mess. But… look, once someone ends up at the ‘Golden Paradise,’ they almost never make it out alive. And once those guys have someone, even the cops have a hard time getting them out quickly.” “So there’s really no other way?” I sank to the floor, completely hopeless. After a long silence, Nate pulled me up. “It’s not completely hopeless, Luke. For Sarah… are you willing to take a gamble?” “Yes. Anything to save Sarah. Whatever it takes. Even my life,” I said, my voice firm. Nate nodded, handed me a cigarette, and told me to wait a second. He pulled out his phone and made several calls. He was speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, using terms I didn’t understand – casino lingo, probably. I knew Nate was trying to reach someone for me. Someone who could get my wife out. 3 After a lot of effort and calling in favors, Nate finally managed to connect me with someone. The “connection” was a guy named Donnie. Nate told me Donnie was probably the only person who could help rescue Sarah. Because the “Golden Paradise” had an unwritten rule. Gamblers who won big could trade their chips for any of the women currently “for sale.” Including the female dealers. Hiring someone to gamble for me – that was the plan, the only plan, to save my wife. My heart was pounding with anxiety when Nate arranged for me to meet Donnie. Seeing him, I was taken aback. The Donnie Nate had described turned out to be a young guy, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. Casual clothes, canvas sneakers, a standard buzz cut. A crescent-shaped scar curled near the corner of his eye. He looked almost bookish, not at all like a seasoned gambler who’d spent years in casinos. Could a guy this young really rescue my wife from that hellhole? I couldn’t help but doubt it. But Nate swore Donnie was the best gambler he knew. I showed Donnie the video of Sarah. He just muttered two words, “Serves her right,” and got up to leave. Seeing that, I dropped to my knees right there. But the guy didn’t even glance back at me. Nate quickly followed him out, pleading with Donnie to help. Five minutes later, Nate came back to the booth, looking dejected. I knew Donnie had refused. But then, surprisingly, Donnie came back. This time, his eyes seemed a little softer. “Going to the ‘Golden Paradise’ requires at least a hundred grand just to get in the door. You got that?” “No.” Donnie turned to leave again. “But I can sell my house! Donnie, give me three days.” “Three days?” Donnie shook his head. “Those guys are unpredictable, ruthless. Three days from now, I can’t guarantee your wife will still be alive. Don’t let the dealer job fool you. Tomorrow, she could be moved somewhere else.” “Somewhere… somewhere else?!” A cold sweat broke out on my back. I quickly changed my tune. “No, one day! I can get the money together by tomorrow.” “Okay. Tomorrow, 1 PM, at the airport.” As he was leaving, the young man added one more thing. “I gotta tell you upfront. At the table, I’ve got a ninety percent chance of winning. But whether I can actually save your wife, whether she’s even still alive… that’s up to fate.” With that, Donnie left without looking back. What had this young guy been through? His eyes were sharp as knives, and he talked like someone much older. I didn’t have time to dwell on Donnie’s backstory. Back home, I immediately took out a second mortgage on the house. I hit up everyone I knew, borrowed from Nate, my sister, and my brother-in-law. Finally, I scraped together one hundred fifty thousand dollars for the gambling stake. It was everything I had. But to save Sarah, I had to bet it all. Whether we’d win or not, was entirely up to chance now. 4 The next day, I met Donnie at the airport with the $150,000 cash. We first flew down to San Diego, then caught another flight across the border to Tijuana, landing in the infamous “City of Sin.” By the time we got there, it was already 4 PM. The rickety taxi Donnie had arranged beforehand was already waiting. After a bumpy ride lasting over an hour, Donnie and I finally arrived at the casino where Sarah was being held – the “Golden Paradise.” Getting out of the cab, Donnie actually told me to give the driver a thousand bucks. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but I did it anyway. It was now 6 PM. Donnie told me the “Golden Paradise” event where you could trade chips for women didn’t start until 8 PM. So we had two hours to kill, but resting was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to find Sarah as fast as possible and get her the hell out of there. At the entrance of the “Golden Paradise,” Donnie made a call, speaking Spanish. Soon, four tough-looking guys covered in tattoos came out of the casino. Two of them looked like security, each holding a shotgun, faces grim. They were respectful towards Donnie, but eyed me with suspicion. Not until Donnie said something to them in Spanish did their expressions soften slightly. The shotguns they held were lowered a bit. Then, two of them patted Donnie and me down. After confirming we weren’t carrying any weapons, a bleach-blond guy spoke to me in heavily accented English, “Friend, welcome to ‘Golden Paradise.’ Good luck tonight. Please.” I nodded, forced a smile, and mumbled, “Thanks.” Then, we followed them inside. It was my first time ever in a real casino, and the scene definitely blew me away. The main floor was packed – poker, blackjack, roulette, baccarat, pai gow, slot machines, everything imaginable. Donnie first had someone get us two rooms, then exchanged all our cash for chips. After that, Donnie told me to give each of the four goons ten thousand dollars worth of chips as a tip. Adding the taxi fare and the room cost, we’d already blown through almost fifty grand. This was money I’d scraped together through hell and high water. I started to suspect Donnie might be playing me. Donnie seemed to read my mind. He leaned back on the bed in his room, eyes closed. “You gotta spend money to make money, Luke. If you want to save your wife, this cash has to be spent.” I nodded, pretending to understand. But deep down, I was questioning if this young guy really had the skills. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Just past 7 PM. Still an hour until the “event” started. Every second felt like torture. I just wished time would speed up.

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My husband Mark and I had been married for five years. We had one daughter, Chloe, and while we weren’t exactly rolling in dough, we owned a house in the city and a car. A big plus? I didn’t have to deal with my mother-in-law breathing down my neck, since she lived back in their hometown. Life was pretty comfortable. My friends often told me how lucky I was, that I’d married a good guy with minimal family drama. Until one day. I was about six months pregnant with our second child. We were visiting Mark’s family back home for the holidays when my mother-in-law suddenly told me I should let Mark’s older brother, David, adopt Chloe. See, when they were kids, David got into a fight defending Mark and ended up with a permanent limp. Because of it, no woman had ever wanted to marry him. My mother-in-law carried a lot of guilt over David’s injury and worried constantly about him growing old alone with no one to care for him. So, she set her sights on my daughter, Chloe. “Sarah,” my mother-in-law started, trying to sound reasonable, “I saw a psychic, and she said this baby you’re carrying is another girl. Since they’re both girls, why not let David raise Chloe for you? It would be a big help, wouldn’t it?” Was she serious?! This was my child – the one I carried for ten months and endured agonizing pain to bring into the world! My blood ran cold. I forced myself to stay calm. “Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, “even if this baby is another girl, Chloe is still my daughter.” My direct refusal clearly annoyed her. “Sarah, don’t you understand? If it wasn’t for Mark back then, would David be like this now? Of course, he was the older brother, protecting his little brother was the right thing to do. But now, as Mark’s wife, shouldn’t you help Mark repay that debt to his big brother?” “Mom, that’s not how it works,” I argued. “We both know David saved Mark, and Mark and I are grateful. We’ve helped him out plenty over the years, financially and otherwise. But giving him our daughter? I will not agree to that.” “What’s wrong with letting him adopt her?” she snapped back, glaring at me. “Are you and Mark just swimming in money? Raising all these girls who are just going to get married off and leave anyway.” She continued, “You’ve got two daughters, give one to David. He helps raise her, you repay the debt – it’s a win-win! How can you not see something so simple? Your fancy college degree hasn’t made you any smarter than this old woman!” Listening to her twisted logic made my head pound. I knew arguing was pointless. She was stuck in her old-fashioned ways, valuing sons over daughters, and nothing would change her mind. “Mom, I’m not feeling well, my stomach hurts,” I lied. “I’m going to lie down for a bit. We can talk later tonight.” “Wait, Sarah, your brother-in-law is waiting to hear…” I quickly slipped into the guest room and shut the door, hearing her muttering outside, “…popping out girls who are just a burden… offer someone to help raise one and she acts insulted… what kind of education is that…” Trying not to let her words upset the baby, I took deep breaths to calm down. I decided I’d tell Mark everything when he got back and let him handle his mother. There was no way, absolutely no way, I would let my daughter be raised by a man like David. I remembered a few visits back home… getting up late one night for water and catching David in the den, watching porn on his laptop. When he saw me, he didn’t even flinch, didn’t try to hide it. Just stared right back at me. A man like that could never be a good father. 2 Later that evening, the moment I heard keys jiggling in the lock, I darted out of the room just as Mark walked in. “Honey! You’re back,” I rushed over, taking his coat. “Come on, let’s get you changed in our room.” I practically dragged him down the hall before his mom could emerge from the kitchen. Mark stumbled slightly. “Whoa, Sarah, slow down! Remember you’re pregnant.” I shut the bedroom door behind us and turned to face him, anger bubbling up. “You remember I’m pregnant, so why aren’t you handling your mother?” “My mom? What did she do now?” “Your mom told me this afternoon that we should let David adopt Chloe! Can you believe that? David! He’s a single man, never raised a kid in his life! How could he possibly take care of her? Besides, Chloe’s a little girl, it’s completely inappropriate for her to live alone with him! And your mom actually expects Chloe to take care of him someday? She’s only four! And this whole ‘repaying a debt’ thing? Is she serious? Has she lost her mind?” I unloaded on him, and Mark’s expression grew darker with every word. “Are you done?” he asked sharply. “You’re a mother now, Sarah. Show some respect. That’s my mom you’re talking about. ‘Lost her mind’? What if Chloe hears you talking like that and picks it up?” He had a point there, and I felt a pang of guilt. “Okay, fine, maybe I shouldn’t have said it like that,” I mumbled, “but I was just so angry. And you should hear the things she said… You know I usually respect her.” Mark sighed, took off his jacket, and gently guided me to sit on the bed. “Look,” he explained, “Mom mentioned this to me before. And honestly… I’ve thought about it, and maybe it’s not the worst idea.” My eyes shot wide open. He quickly put his hands on my shoulders. “Just hear me out,” he pleaded. “David got hurt because of me when we were kids. His leg… no girl ever wanted him after that. I owe him, Sarah. Big time. And besides, Mom had that reading… you know, the psychic said this baby is another girl. So, we’d still have our younger daughter even if Chloe went to live with David. It could work out.” Like mother, like son. His reasoning was exactly the same as hers. I stood up, staring at him in disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you crazy, Mark?! That’s your daughter! You’d just… give her away? What kind of father are you?!” “It’s not ‘giving her away’!” he retorted. “It’s David! My own brother, who’s always been there for me! He would take good care of Chloe. And listen, I was thinking… I could give David a job at my company, get him set up in the city nearby. That way, you could see Chloe whenever you want.” “For me? Or for yourself?” I shot back. “Yes, Mark, your brother helped you. You owe him. We can repay that debt in so many ways! Money, help finding him a job, setting him up on dates – anything! Why does it have to be our daughter?” “Why can’t you understand? It’s not giving her away! He’d be living close by. You could visit all the time.” It was like talking to a brick wall. I was furious. “Well, it’s not happening!” I snapped. “You are being completely unreasonable!” “Me, unreasonable? Fine! If I’m so unreasonable, then go talk to your perfectly reasonable mother and brother!” With that, I furiously grabbed a few changes of clothes, threw them in a bag, and stormed out of the room. My mother-in-law was standing right outside the door, clearly eavesdropping. Before she could say a word, I announced, “I’m not staying for dinner. I’m taking Chloe back home.” “Back home? This is your home,” she started. I ignored her, grabbed Chloe’s hand, and walked out. We caught a cab back to the city that night. In the car, Chloe held my hand tightly, her little face full of worry. “Mommy,” she asked in her tiny voice, “are you okay? Why isn’t Daddy coming with us?” She was only four. Too young to understand that her own father wanted to give her away. Thinking about it, the tears I’d been holding back finally started to fall. 3 The next day, Mark came back from his mom’s place. Seeing him, the anger I’d managed to push down resurfaced. I gave him the silent treatment, pretending he was invisible. He pulled out the charm offensive he used when we were dating, apologizing profusely. “Sarah, I messed up. I really did. Please, forgive me just this once?” “Oh yeah? Tell me exactly what you did wrong.” “I was wrong… wrong to upset you,” he stammered, watching my face. “I should have considered your feelings. I shouldn’t have been so focused on my own ideas.” Seeing my expression soften slightly, he continued, “You know how things have been lately, with the economy up and down, business has been slow… I’ve been stressed out. Mom kept going on and on about it, and seeing David like that… I just feel so bad for him. I wasn’t thinking straight when I argued with you.” Seeing him look so genuinely sorry, most of my anger melted away. I found myself comforting him. “Honey, I know how hard you work. Don’t worry too much. Business might be slow now, but things will turn around. You’re smart and hardworking, you’ll figure it out.” For the next couple of months, I used the excuse of my growing belly and nearing due date to avoid going back to his hometown. My mother-in-law called occasionally, but she didn’t bring up the adoption thing again. I started to think maybe the whole issue had blown over. Then, one evening, Mark came home from work, and trailing behind him were his mother and David. “Mom. David.” I managed a tight smile, shooting Mark a questioning look. My mother-in-law glanced at me and gave a little sniff. David looked around our living room before his eyes landed on me. We made eye contact, and he smiled. It was a smile that sent a chill down my spine. I instinctively grabbed Mark’s arm, my eyes silently asking, Why are they here? Mark quickly explained, “Sarah, Mom and David are going to stay with us for a while. Could you get the guest room ready?” He gently pulled me toward our bedroom, turning back to say, “Mom, David, make yourselves comfortable. I ordered some takeout, it’ll be here soon.” I was fuming. He hadn’t mentioned a word about them coming. As soon as Mark closed our bedroom door, I demanded, “What is going on? Why are they here? Did you deliberately not tell me because you knew I’d be upset?” “No, Sarah, you’ve got it wrong this time!” Mark insisted, looking genuinely surprised. “They called me when they were already at the bus station! What was I supposed to do, tell them to turn around and go back? Don’t worry,” he added quickly, “I asked them on the way here. David’s just here to see a specialist about his leg. They won’t be staying long.” Hearing that eased my mind slightly. “You’re not lying? Just for his leg?” “I promise,” Mark assured me. “How long are they planning to stay…?” I started to ask, then saw Mark’s expression shift. This was his family, and despite the adoption issue making me wary of them, it was his house too – the one he worked hard to pay the mortgage on. I quickly changed my tone. “Well, if David needs medical help, we should definitely support him.” Mark immediately smiled and pulled me into a hug. He leaned in for a kiss, then looked down at my belly and teased, “If this little girl doesn’t come out soon, I’m going to go crazy.” I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Oh, you!” During David’s stay for his treatment, he acted perfectly normal. Sometimes, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d wander into the living room late at night, but I never heard anything unusual coming from his room. Still, remembering that incident from before… catching him watching those videos… I couldn’t bring myself to let Chloe spend much time alone with him. My mother-in-law still made snide remarks under her breath whenever she thought Mark wasn’t listening – things like “ungrateful,” “what’s the big deal,” “some people forget who helped them.” But Mark usually stepped in and defended me. Slowly, the atmosphere in the house became less tense. I started to relax my guard, even feeling a little guilty for being so suspicious of David. Not long after, I gave birth to our second child – another beautiful daughter. We named her Annie, and I was overjoyed.

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Every time my wife and I fought, she’d buy me a luxury watch. By the time I had collected 99 of them, I decided I couldn’t accept any more, and I asked her for a divorce. It all kicked off one night last fall, sparked by a social media post from my wife’s assistant. “This holiday night, spending it with you, finally feels like home~” The picture showed him at a fancy rooftop garden restaurant. Leaning against him was a woman, half her face hidden in shadow, but her distinct collarbone and the faint hickey on her neck screamed intimacy. Alex then commented: “The boss looks amazing. My Venus.” I glanced at the message Amanda had sent just minutes before, saying she was working late. A faint smile touched my lips as I replied in the comments: “Her technique’s even better.” Shortly after, Alex called, his voice laced with faux injury, explaining it was just some quote he found online, nothing more. Amanda snatched the phone, her voice dripping with sarcasm towards me: “We just grabbed dinner after working late, what’s your problem? Do you have any idea how Alex felt when you said that publicly?” Then, her tone softened towards Alex: “Don’t take it personally. He watches too many trashy romance dramas; thinks everyone’s a rival.” The line went dead. The next day, Amanda came home, and with her, another watch box. This one contained a green watch. “Honey, please forgive me. What I said last night was just to save face.” Staring at the drawer overflowing with expensive watches, I gently shook my head. I had loved her for seven years. I had forgiven her ninety-nine times. This time, I was letting go. 1 When Amanda got home, I was digging into a special extra-spicy, loaded-with-peppers hot pot I’d made just for myself. She never touched spicy food, so for seven years, chili peppers had been banished from our dining table. Amanda walked straight over, grabbed my personal hot pot without a word, and dumped it down the toilet. “I’m allergic to peppers, did you forget?” She then handed me an elegant gift box. “Alex picked it out. As an apology from him. Seriously, look at what you said last night. He’s so much more considerate than you are. You’re older than him, his senior; can’t you be a little more magnanimous?” I didn’t move an inch. She nudged me. “Are you listening to me? Why are you being so petty?” As she spoke, she noticed my eyes watering – from the intense spice – and looked slightly flustered. She mumbled something about getting tissues, but I stopped her. “Don’t bother. I’m going to take a shower.” I went to wash up, avoiding her. When I came out, she was surprisingly still there. Amanda sat on the sofa, the gift box on the table. She seemed calmer. “Honey, I lost my temper earlier. Come see the gift we picked out for you.” Amanda eagerly tore open the packaging, but froze when she saw the color. “Why is it green…” Her words trailed off, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. She quickly forced a smile and tried to explain, “Honey, forgive me. What I said last night was just to keep up appearances.” The excuse felt incredibly flimsy. I didn’t bother looking closely. I ran a hand through my hair, about to bring up the divorce. Just then, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and immediately answered. “What’s wrong?” Alex’s voice came through, choked with tears. “Amanda, my stomach hurts so bad, and I can’t get a cab to the hospital.” Amanda’s expression turned grave instantly. Without even a glance my way, she grabbed her coat and rushed out the door. I stood there, stunned. A few minutes later, a voice message arrived from her. “You have to accept that watch. Otherwise, Alex will feel terrible, and it’ll affect his work.” I didn’t reply. She sent another. “I’ll be back soon.” The sound of speeding cars bled through the background noise. I didn’t need to guess. She was racing to Alex’s side as fast as she could. 2 After Amanda left, she never came back that night. I waited from late evening until dawn. Nothing. That night, the emotional turmoil triggered a severe angina attack. I was rushed to the emergency room. I tried calling Amanda, but her line was constantly busy. Just as I was about to give up, a notification popped up. Alex had updated his social media status. He shared a photo of himself getting an IV drip, captioned: “Looked into your eyes, knew you were the one. Watching over me through the night, by my side in my toughest moment. Boss, how can I ever repay this kindness? How about… with myself?” The message oozed gratitude and adoration for Amanda. Right below it, a comment from someone apparently working at the hospital: “OMG, I work here! Just snapped this on the sly, totally explosive!” The attached picture showed a frail-looking Alex, with Amanda standing by his bedside, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. It looked like a poignant movie scene. Another candid shot showed Amanda watching over Alex’s bed, her eyes filled with a tenderness and concern directed solely at him. Even though I should have been used to it, my heart clenched painfully. Almost involuntarily, I dialed Amanda’s number. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said curtly and hung up. I used to be skeptical about the “seven-year itch,” but right then, I had to admit it was real. The exhaustion and disappointment had completely drained my will to continue. My angina attack was brought under control quickly, and I was discharged soon after. Dragging myself home, I had barely stepped inside when Amanda confronted me, furious. “What stunt are you pulling now? Can’t you stop being so unreasonable? He was really sick, shouldn’t I have taken care of him?” “I just had a severe angina attack. I almost died.” I cut her off coldly, my eyes devoid of any warmth. Hearing this, Amanda’s face went deathly pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. She froze, speechless for a long moment. 3 To the outside world, Amanda and I were the picture-perfect couple. Amanda wanted to be childfree, and because I loved her, I respected her decision without argument. So, for seven years, we never had children of our own. Until recently. One night, Amanda came home drunk after a work function. As I helped her onto the bed, she suddenly threw her arms around my neck, her eyes hazy. “Honey, let’s have a baby…” Then she passed out. I carefully removed her makeup and changed her clothes. I thought she genuinely wanted a child with me. I thought she still loved me. Until… Three days prior, my sudden angina attack landed me in the ER. The feeling of being pulled back from the brink still haunted me. Originally, I had made preparations, even got a full physical. I had planned to spend the holiday weekend with Amanda, tell her I wanted to cherish every day we had together even more. My health check confirmed I could provide my half of a healthy child. But now, none of it mattered. On that autumn night, Amanda spent it with her assistant, Alex, even speaking coldly to me in front of him. What hurt most was that green watch she held – a symbol of betrayal. Her words defending Alex were like sharp knives, cutting into my heart again and again. She knew exactly what the color green implied in certain contexts, yet she went along with Alex’s choice. It was chilling. Amanda stood up angrily, her knuckles white from clenching her fists. But she didn’t ask why I hadn’t told her about my condition sooner. Because she had already chosen to discard me, call after unanswered call. I had given her countless chances, hoping she’d come back to me, but she always chose Alex. “Enough, Ethan!” Her voice was filled with anger and contempt. “You’d make up a lie like that just to get my attention!” She shoved me hard onto the sofa. “You’ve been fine for years, and suddenly, right after I hire an assistant, you have a heart attack? Do you think this is some kind of TV drama?” “When did you become like this? Alex is just my assistant! Is it wrong for me to care about my staff? Can’t you stop being so sensitive, watch fewer of those stupid shows, and stop messing with your head?!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Staring at the closed door, I remembered a text message I’d seen five days earlier. Alex had told Amanda he wanted a child. Amanda had replied to Alex: “Baby, I want a child that belongs to us too.” In that moment, I knew with chilling clarity that she seemed to have completely forgotten the vows we once made together. So, her drunken words that night… they were meant for Alex. I looked at the shut door, no longer feeling the familiar urge to compromise or smooth things over. In our seven years of marriage, I had always been the one trying to hold things together. Today, I was completely disheartened. I thought back over the years. She had once given me ten watches as symbols of love. But since Alex appeared, the subsequent eighty-plus watches felt more like milestones marking their relationship. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, fighting back the pain as I texted my lawyer: “Hello, I need to consult about a divorce. As soon as possible.” 4 For several days, Amanda didn’t come home. On the fourth day, my phone finally rang. Amanda’s voice still held a trace of lingering anger, tinged with coldness and distance. “Come downstairs. My mom wants us to come over for dinner.” Before I could respond, she hung up. My mother-in-law had always been kind to me. No matter how much I resisted going, I had to consider her feelings. When Amanda saw I had made an effort to dress up, a sarcastic smile played on her lips. “Well, look at you, all spruced up. And you tried to tell me you almost died. How ridiculous.” My breath caught. Then I managed a small smile and said softly, “Yeah. Right.” She didn’t press the issue, instead turning on the car’s music system. As the music started, a soft voice alert played. “Your little assistant Alex reminds the dear Mrs. CEO, please enjoy the music, but also drive safely, love you~” Alex’s gentle, slightly magnetic voice echoed in the somewhat awkward silence of the car, making the atmosphere even more charged. In the past, I would have immediately demanded an explanation from Amanda, insisting she justify it. It would have ended in another argument. But now, I chose silence. I just sat there quietly, saying nothing. Amanda seemed to realize her blunder, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. “…Alex said personalized voice prompts are trendy now, so I had him set one up for me.” I nodded slightly, my expression calm and unreadable. During dinner at her parents’ house, my mother-in-law clearly sensed the strained atmosphere between us, occasionally casting questioning glances our way. As the meal drew to a close, she finally leaned in and asked quietly, “What’s going on with you two? Had a fight?” Amanda laughed lightly, naturally linking her arm through mine. “No, Mom, don’t worry about it.” Her mother immediately relaxed, her face filled with relief. “That’s what I thought! All those online rumors about you and your male assistant being too close are nonsense. My Amanda would never do anything to hurt Ethan!” 5 “News? What news?” Amanda looked puzzled. Her mother glanced at me, paused for a moment, then took out her phone and handed it to her. “This. Everyone online is buzzing about a ‘ManXu’ CP – pairing the CEO and her male assistant.” I caught a glimpse of the phone screen. It was a compilation of photos featuring Amanda and Alex, many taken in settings I’d never seen. For instance, one showed Amanda and Alex painting plaster dolls together in a park. One of those identical cartoon figures sat silently on the nightstand in our bedroom. She had told me it was painted by an employee’s child, and she brought it home because she thought it was cute. Thinking back now, it was just another carefully crafted lie. Amanda took the phone, then grasped my hand to explain, “Those photos were all taken during company events. It’s not like what they’re saying online.” “Alex just graduated; I mentored him closely, like his teacher. It’s natural for him to rely on me. Sometimes, when we spend a lot of time together, he even worries you might misunderstand and tells me I should go home and spend more time with you.” I wasn’t particularly interested in her explanation, just replying flatly, “Mm, I get it.” The tension eased slightly from her face, but then I turned to her mother, my voice firm. “I want a divorce from Amanda.”

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“Honey, I need to have a baby for Leo Vance. He’s terminally ill.” Leo Vance. Her first love, the one she never forgot. My wife has a severe bleeding disorder. We’ve been married six years, and I’ve never touched her. In my past life, I vehemently refused for her safety, forced her to get an abortion, and stayed by her side day and night. After Leo died, she became strangely docile, caring for me meticulously. But I never imagined she blamed me for Leo’s death the entire time. On our sixth anniversary, she stabbed me twenty times, doused me in gasoline, and burned me alive. Flames roared around me as she screamed, her face contorted with hate. “He was dying! All he wanted was a child! What was so wrong with that? It’s all your fault!” Reborn, I looked at my wife Lily’s pale face and smiled. “Just one? Why not give him two?” … “What nonsense are you talking? I know you don’t like kids. I’ll just have one to carry on his line, then I’ll come right back.” Lily caressed her belly, trying to sweet-talk me. “I’m already three months along. Leo never wanted to interfere with us, Ethan. He always says good things about you. Once the baby’s born, I won’t have anything more to do with it, don’t worry.” She wrinkled her nose playfully, placing my hand on her stomach. “You know my past, Ethan. I basically grew up bouncing between relatives and relying on neighbors. The Vances were the kindest to me. I can’t let their family line end. You understand, right?” I nodded, pulling her into a hug, but inside, I sneered. It was the early 2000s. I was the only son for three generations in my family. I took all the pressure, just wanting her to be healthy. Lily’s father killed her mother for insurance money. She suffered immensely growing up. I felt terrible for her. To make her feel secure, I put all my money and property in her name, giving her every safeguard. Now, she leaned against me, praising the Vance family, while my mind reeled with the agony of being stabbed, collapsing to my knees before she burned me alive. Lily pulled away, hesitant. “Didn’t you used to hate Leo? Why agree all of a sudden? Are you being sarcastic? We haven’t… done anything. It was IVF.” If I hadn’t found traces of their lovemaking in the car and in our house, I might have actually believed her. I smiled, stroking Lily’s head, soothing her gently. “Of course not. I’m mainly worried about your health. IVF must have been tough, right? Honestly, you didn’t need to go through that trouble. As long as your heart is with me, that’s all that matters.” Lily relaxed again, giving me a rare, tight hug and a quick kiss. “Then… can Leo come stay with us? You can take care of both of us. You’re a doctor, you know best. He is the baby’s father, after all.” “Once the baby is born, we’ll be together properly, and I won’t owe the Vances anything anymore.” Her eyes were probing. I pretended to hesitate, and a flash of triumph crossed her face before she pouted, feigning displeasure. I quickly agreed, holding her close and murmuring sweet nothings. She was overjoyed, oblivious that I was even happier. This time, let her have the baby. No one could save her now. She nestled against me for a moment before Leo called. She took the call in the bathroom. I heard the faucet running loudly. She was scrubbing away where I had touched her, rubbing until her skin must have been raw. She complained to Leo, “Leo, honey, come over soon, I miss you like crazy! I talked to Ethan; he’ll take care of you and our baby.” After a few minutes, she came out, dressed. Her eyes flickered. “Let’s get the divorce finalized. Otherwise, it’ll be hard to register the baby’s birth certificate.” I replied casually, “Sure, okay.” Maybe I agreed too quickly. Lily seemed stunned. Perhaps she expected me to break down crying or fly into a rage like before. I added, “The baby isn’t at fault. And Leo is sick, after all. I misunderstood him before. It was my bad. From now on, I support all your decisions. After all, if you love someone, you should love everything about them.” A high-end package of medicine peeked out from the cabinet. Lily asked what it was. I earnestly explained it was a holiday gift I was planning to give someone, but if she wanted it, she could take it first to boost her health. Lily’s eyes lit up. She snuggled against my face again. “Oh, Ethan, you’re the best! So generous and thoughtful! Don’t worry, Leo won’t affect your position. I only see him as a brother.” 2 The sound of a key turning in the lock. Leo Vance walked in casually, holding a key. He looked at me, pretending to be weak, panting heavily. “Dr. Hayes, sorry to trouble you. This body of mine… who knows how many days I have left. Before I go, I just want to spend more time with Lily. Thanks for putting up with this.” He walked into the kitchen, put down some groceries, and insisted on cooking for Lily. Lily was deeply moved. They shut the kitchen door, getting cozy inside. I raised an eyebrow, noticing the muddy black footprints on the floor. That kind of dirt only comes from the hills outside town. Leo must have just come down from there. Guess he had to ditch his other girl for this. I didn’t barge in, worried about Lily being taken advantage of. Instead, I lay on the couch, letting my mind drift. Soon, three dishes and a soup were ready. I ate heartily. Lily served Leo soup, her face full of nostalgia. “Your cooking tastes exactly like my mom’s. Leo, thank you for being so good to me all these years.” She turned to me. “Ethan, let’s go get it done later. You’ll have to leave with nothing, but it’s just a temporary measure. We’ll divorce but still live together. Trust me.” Watching her lie so naturally, I hated that I couldn’t just kill her right then. Suppressing my disgust, I nodded. “Okay. As long as the three of us can make things work, that’s what matters most. Lily, as long as you’re happy, nothing else is a problem.” I thought about Leo’s debts and smiled inwardly. When I proposed to Lily, she turned me down dozens of times, always saying she wasn’t ready, that her mother’s tragic death made it impossible for her to trust anyone. Yet, faced with Leo’s clumsy acting and obvious lies, she believed every word. After dinner, Lily eagerly dragged me to get the divorce processed. The county clerk’s office was almost empty. When I stated I was leaving the marriage with nothing, people looked at me with confusion. “Hurry up, or the marriage license office will close, and Lily won’t make it in time to register with Leo.” The looks turned to pity. Lily snatched the fresh divorce certificate, embarrassed, and hissed under her breath, “Don’t say that! People who don’t know the situation will think I’m some kind of… person!” Playing the victim while acting the villain. I sneered internally but outwardly agreed. “Sorry, my bad. Lily is the best, kindest person. I understand.” Her expression softened slightly. She turned towards the marriage license counter. Just then, a colleague ran into us, shoving a handful of candies at me enthusiastically. “Dr. Hayes! What are you doing here? Didn’t you and your wife get married ages ago? Hey, I even copied you with these candies – imported peanut brittle! Remember how envious everyone was of Mrs. Hayes back then?” Lily froze. Peanut brittle was her favorite. She couldn’t afford it as a kid, and by the time she could, the factory had closed down. When I found out, I secretly bought the factory and had it produce only that peanut brittle. She cried, saying she didn’t deserve it, but I firmly told her there was no such thing as deserving or not – I thought she was worth it. Lily forced a smile, distractedly popping a piece of peanut brittle into her mouth. In my previous life, I died horribly. The candy factory went bankrupt, my family was ruined, and a large number of workers lost their jobs. Leo interrupted my thoughts, naturally wrapping an arm around Lily’s waist, his hand resting on her belly. “Is the baby kicking? Come on, let’s go get registered.” My colleague stood there, dumbfounded, apologizing profusely to me. I waved it off, even explaining for Lily, “We just got divorced.” The colleague nodded, then turned to whisper to his wife, loud enough for me to hear, “Even a guy like Dr. Hayes gets cheated on? He’s the Dean’s son, you know, though not many people know it. That Leo Vance is a notorious bum. Tried his hand at business and lost everything. Imagine ditching a diamond for dog crap. Hilarious.” “Poor Dr. Hayes. Just last month he was bragging about his wife, and this month they’re divorced. Baby’s three months along… everyone knows what that means. That Lily isn’t any good!” I watched him spread the gossip, a slight smile playing on my lips. 3 We got everything done smoothly and went home. But Lily kept glancing at me, her thoughts unreadable. That night, she shut her door and didn’t come out. I didn’t care. I went to my own room and went to sleep. Just as I was drifting off, a cold body suddenly slipped into my arms. My sleepiness vanished instantly. Lily looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. “Honey, don’t you love me anymore? Why aren’t you angry?” What kind of drama was this in the middle of the night? I became wary, tucking her cold feet under the covers to warm them, speaking softly. “Did you run over here barefoot? Look how cold you are. What’s wrong?” Lily’s eyes shone in the darkness. “Someone talked about me today. Said I was shameless. Tomorrow, can you take me and Leo to the hospital cafeteria, host a little reception, and clear things up? Just say… say you can’t have kids, that’s why we divorced.” “The party will bring Leo some good luck too. If you don’t agree, I… I might as well just die.” “And don’t worry about my bleeding disorder. Leo brought me a folk remedy. He left town seven years ago specifically to find a cure for me.” She wouldn’t trust me, a doctor with a bachelor’s degree, but she’d believe in some folk remedy. Her eyelashes fluttered against my face. I deliberately paused for a few moments before pretending to agree reluctantly. “As long as you’re happy and don’t hurt yourself, I’ll do whatever you want.” “Oh, right. Remind Leo to take his medicine.” Leo wasn’t sick, but I had prepared some… special things for him. She happily slipped out of my arms, closed the door, and ran off. The door didn’t shut completely. Her excited voice drifted in intermittently. “He agreed! See? I told you he was a pushover. He agrees to whatever I say. And you said he didn’t love me anymore? Impossible! He’s paying for the reception too.” Leo, smoking, drawled lazily, “I’m still a bit short for this business deal. Get me some more cash. When I strike it rich, you’ll be a wealthy wife. Forget one candy factory, honey, I’ll open three for you!” “And I want lots of clothes and bags! But take your medicine first.” The bedsprings creaked rhythmically, accompanied by sounds of flirting. I yawned and drifted off to sleep. I dreamed of Leo’s death scene from my past life. Debt collectors had hung him from a rooftop all day. When he called Lily, he was surrounded by heavily tattooed men, leering as they said if he could lure the woman over, she’d be worth a hundred bucks off his debt. Lily never got that nightmare call. Leo was violated, humiliated in the worst way, and died shamefully on that rooftop. The scene shifted. Gasoline drenched me again. I was burning alive in front of Leo’s memorial photo. The workers from the candy factory heard I had died. Many came to see me. They sent Lily to prison and arranged my parents’ funerals and memorials for me. I sat up in the darkness, covering my eyes, crying silently. 4 At the crack of dawn, I went to the hospital. I arranged the food, instructed the workers to help me hang decorations – red banners everywhere, especially making sure Leo Vance’s name was prominent at the entrance. At lunchtime, everyone flocked to the cafeteria, curious about the sea of red. “Is Leo Vance getting married? To who?” Someone in the know answered, “Lily.” “That’s not even the half of it. The real shocker is Dr. Hayes is throwing the party for them!” A wave of stunned silence, then murmurs erupted. My dad is the hospital Dean, my mom an OB/GYN. They heard the news and looked at me, astonished. My mom smacked my arm. “How could you get divorced! What is going on?” My parents are good people. They never looked down on Lily for being an orphan; instead, they urged me to treat her well. Six years without children earned my parents endless ridicule and cold shoulders, but they still protected her. Leo’s parents, who worked at the boiler plant next door, showed up, probably called by Leo. They sat down and dug in immediately. Under the weight of confused, mocking, and curious stares, I stood on the small stage, holding Lily’s hand in one and Leo’s in the other (though he wasn’t physically there yet). I began the toast: “Let’s wish them happiness. From this day forward, these two are husband and wife. But mainly, this banquet is to celebrate me rejoining the ranks of the single.” Lily stared at me, aghast. Before she could question me, a group of men with full tattoo sleeves burst through the door. “Leo Vance! You’re pretty good at hiding! Let’s see where you run now! Pay up!” Leo instinctively thought Lily had exposed him. Furious, he shoved her away, yelling, “Was it you?! You damn bitch, you dared to sell me out!” Lily fell to the ground, wincing in pain, but still shook her head. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t say anything!” Leo roared, “Don’t grab me! I’ll give you this broad! She’s got money!” Then he bolted towards the exit. Lily stared in disbelief as Leo ran off, while the tattooed thugs grabbed her. “Leo Vance? Where are you going?! I’m pregnant with your child! You bastard!” I walked over, looking down at her. She instinctively pleaded with me. “Help me, Ethan! Please, explain! I don’t know anything about this! What debt? I don’t have any money! What’s going on? Honey, help me! Talk to them for Leo, please! They aren’t going to kill him, are they?!” She was frantic, her words tumbling out incoherently. I walked past her, a smirk playing on my lips as I addressed the lead thug. “Buddy, the woman and the kid are both Leo Vance’s. You hold onto her, Leo won’t get far.” Lily froze, stunned. Two lines of tears streamed down her face as she stared at me. “What?” “What is happening, Ethan! It’s me, Lily!” “Leo and I were just pretending to get married! Once the baby’s born, I was going to divorce him! I was just repaying a debt! Ethan, didn’t we talk about this? What’s wrong with you?” Bored, I sat back down to eat, ignoring Lily’s cries. My mom sat beside me, nudging me. “What do you mean she’s pregnant and the baby isn’t yours? What on earth is going on?!” Leo’s mother, Brenda Vance, who had been hiding nearby, started screeching, “Ethan Hayes! Save them! Give them money! You useless piece of trash!” “Mom! Don’t yell at Ethan!” Lily cried out towards Mrs. Vance. “You give them money! Save me! The baby in my belly can’t take this stress!” Leo, agile as a cat, leaped out a window and fled, showing no sign of illness. Seeing her son was safe, Brenda Vance turned to Lily with fake helplessness. “No money! Gave it all to Leo for his debts! Go ask your in-laws! Old Mr. Hayes and Dr. Hayes are still here.” My parents exchanged glances. My mother, as if waking from a dream, erupted in fury. “Brenda Vance! My son made it perfectly clear just now – they are divorced! She calls you ‘Mom,’ not me! The baby in her belly is your family’s business, nothing to do with us!” Since walking in, Lily hadn’t acknowledged my parents once, yet she had been overly affectionate with Leo’s parents. I wiped my mouth, stood up, ushered the crowd out, and closed the door. Behind me, Lily screamed, “Honey! Ethan, don’t go! You can’t leave me like this!!” I walked back to look at her. “You and Leo Vance are legally married. Don’t call me that. From now on, you can repay your debt to the Vance family forever.”

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Around here, I have a nickname: “Liam’s lapdog.” We were childhood sweethearts, but I basically forced him to marry me. After the wedding, he treated me like ice, but I acted like I didn’t care. Today is our third wedding anniversary. I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a post from Claire Foster, his old flame: “Apart for so long, but thank goodness you were always there.” The picture? A candlelight dinner. Liam’s profile was unmistakable. I liked the post and commented: “Wishing you both the best.” The next second, my phone rang. It was Liam. “Stop obsessing over stupid stuff online,” he snapped. “Tonight’s Claire’s welcome home party. Everyone’s having a good time.” Then I heard him turn away from the phone. “Don’t mind her,” he said to Claire. “She’s always been petty like that.” Yeah. Petty enough to love him my entire youth. In that instant, something snapped. I was finally awake. 1. Liam didn’t get home until the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol. He collapsed onto the sofa. “Ava, get over here.” He always did this. Come home, demand I untie his tie. He’d get pissed if I wasn’t there. Martha, our housekeeper, told me once he’d also come home drunk, sat on the sofa, and just waited for me until god knows when because I was out. I rubbed my eyes, dragged myself downstairs, and undid his tie. As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm. He pulled a small jewelry box from his pocket. “Claire wanted me to give this to you. Said she was worried you’d misunderstand. She felt so bad she rushed out to buy it right after dinner.” I opened it. A cheap bracelet. I managed a small smile. “Wow, she really shouldn’t have. Found this at the gift shop downstairs from the restaurant, huh?” Liam wasn’t amused. “What’s that supposed to mean? It’s the thought that counts. It shows she values you.” I stared at the obviously plastic charm dangling from the chain and had to bite back laughter. Liam leaned closer, sniffing the air around me with disgust. “Ava, haven’t I told you to shower when you get sweaty? Why don’t you ever listen?” Liam’s a neat freak. After we got married, he demanded I always smell fresh. Even in summer, if I broke a sweat, I had to shower immediately. Tonight, my emotions were too raw. I’d gone for a run earlier, trying to clear my head, then just sat staring out the window for hours after I got back. Usually, I’d jump to do whatever he said. But right then, I just froze. Seeing me motionless, he gave me a shove. “Ava, what are you spacing out for? Go shower, then make me some detox tea.” After I made the tea, he suggested, “Since Claire got you a gift, you should return the favor tomorrow. Go shopping, pick something out. It’s important to reciprocate.” I shot him a look. “How about I take her out for a nice meal too? You know, soothe her wounded feelings?” Before I could blink, Liam handed me his phone. “Call her yourself and set it up. She’s probably still awake.” Married three years, and Liam never gave a damn about my schedule. But Claire’s? He knew it by heart. 2. When I didn’t move, Liam dialed her number himself and put it on speaker. Claire picked up almost instantly. “Hey there, handsome,” she cooed. “Home already and missing me?” I cringed so hard my toes curled. Mortifying. Liam saw my expression darken and quickly took the phone off speaker, walking away to murmur a few things privately. I turned to go upstairs, but he grabbed me again after hanging up. His face was tight with annoyance. “What’s your problem now? She was drunk, just joking around.” I just nodded. “Mm-hmm.” That seemed to piss him off more. He shoved me hard. I lost my balance and banged my knee against the edge of the sofa. Blood instantly welled up. I have hemophobia – I get faint at the sight of blood. Liam knows this. He panicked. “Okay, sit down, sit down! I’ll get the first-aid kit.” He frantically rummaged through it for gauze, but there wasn’t even a scrap left. “When did this first-aid kit get so empty?” he muttered, annoyed. I didn’t tell him I’d used the last of the gauze the day before when I cut my finger making the steak dinner he wanted. I didn’t want him to think I was being dramatic. He knelt, disinfected the cut, and then said, “Maybe I should take you to the pharmacy? Get some more gauze, maybe some antiseptic wipes.” The thought of medicine made my stomach clench. I gently touched my belly. Over a month now. I’d waited for our anniversary, hoping… but he wasn’t even here. Tonight, I’d desperately wanted a drink to numb the ache, but I couldn’t decide about the baby yet. So I resisted. Claire posted last week: He says I’m always clumsy and getting bruised, so he thoughtfully put together a first-aid kit just for me. Thinking about that now… the contrast. I was the one who stocked everything in this house. Sometimes he’d find his shaving cream empty and yell at me. “Is this how you play the good wife? You can’t even keep track of basic necessities?” Back then, I’d just lower my head and apologize, terrified he’d get angry and storm out. When he got mad, he wouldn’t just block my number; he’d disappear for days. He wouldn’t come back until I used Martha’s phone to text him apologies until he felt satisfied. Then he might text back: “I’ll be home for dinner tonight. Make it early.” Of course, he’d only show up maybe four out of ten times he said that. Sometimes I’d just sit there, staring at a table full of cold food, my eyes stinging. I nodded now. “Okay, let’s go together. I could use a fruit smoothie anyway.” Liam pinched my waist. “Look at the time! And smoothies? What wife weighs over 130 pounds after getting married? Would it kill you to skip a snack?” I’ve always had a larger frame. Honestly, I watch my weight carefully. But Liam always compared me to his secretaries, his friends’ girlfriends. The cruelest was when he said, “If it wasn’t an arranged marriage to save my family’s company, do you think I would’ve looked twice at you?” Yeah. Back then, Walker Corp was tanking because of a shareholder scandal. My family proposed the marriage alliance. Liam was still moping because Claire had run off overseas chasing some other guy. His parents jumped at the offer. From dating to marriage, it all happened in less than a year. I knew he didn’t like me. Maybe even found me repulsive. Sex was like clocking in for a shift. Our parents were desperate for grandkids, so around my ovulation time, he’d grudgingly perform his husbandly duties for a few days. We’d just gotten into the car when Liam’s phone rang again. It was Claire, sounding weak on the other end. “Liam… I think I have that stomach bug again… throwing up, diarrhea… can you come get me? Please?” Liam glanced at me, then told me to get out of the car. I grabbed his wrist, pointed at my bleeding knee. “You said you were taking me to get bandages.” His face turned cold. “It’s just a scratch, Ava. Deal with it yourself. Claire sounds really sick; she might need the ER. Don’t be so selfish!” No matter how I pleaded, his expression stayed hard as he practically dragged me out of the car. “Just grab a cab or something,” he said dismissively. “Buying bandages isn’t rocket science.” Buying bandages isn’t hard, no. But he forgot that the sight of blood makes me tremble uncontrollably, makes my heart pound like crazy. Watching his taillights disappear, my heart plunged into an icy abyss. 3. I knew Liam wouldn’t be back tonight. I ordered takeout, along with gauze and antiseptic wipes. Every time Claire called Liam away, she’d almost always post about it later. I waited, eventually falling asleep, but no Instagram notification popped up. I thought about it again and decided against taking the allergy meds for the hives that always broke out when my hemophobia kicked in. I fell into an itchy, restless sleep, only jolted awake by a specific notification sound on my phone. The one I’d set just for Claire’s posts. I rubbed my eyes. A new picture: Claire in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. Liam had bought her a hot water bottle, heating pads, even ginger tea. You could see the dark circles under his eyes; he looked exhausted. I remembered a beach trip Liam took me on with his friends. I was on my period and didn’t want to go in the water. He’d grabbed my hand and pulled me into the ocean anyway. “When did you get so dramatic?” he’d snapped. “We’re all out here having fun, who are you sulking for?” His friends all stared at me. “I’m just not feeling well today,” I’d mumbled, embarrassed. “I was going to rest on the sand.” But Liam wouldn’t let go of my hand. That night, I was doubled over in bed with cramps, begging him to get me some painkillers. He’d been completely annoyed. “Why are you always so much trouble? Where am I supposed to find that stuff this late? Just tough it out.” He had no idea how bad period pain could be. I spent the whole night sweating and shivering, listening to his steady breathing beside me. The next morning, he actually laughed at me. “Wow, you got ugly overnight. Hurry up and put some makeup on.” He had such high standards for me. Controlled what I wore, even my accessories. Sometimes I’d buy jewelry I loved and show him, but he’d always scoff. “Your taste is just so… tacky.” But Claire wore similar styles all the time. And he’d comment under her posts: Looks great on you. Claire was a minor influencer, always shooting daily vlogs since college. This hospital post was the first time she’d shown Liam’s full face clearly. The comments poured in. “OMG, is that your BF? He’s so hot!” “Hot AND rich! Isn’t that watch like, over $100k? #Goals, girl, so jealous!” “Are you sick?? And the handsome CEO stayed with you all night? It’s real love, confirmed!” … The comment that stung the most was from Liam’s burner account: Such a big girl, still can’t take care of yourself. Silly goose. Silly goose. So intimate. Even though Liam’s burner account only reposted sports highlights, I’d found it. He’d logged in on the tablet once and forgotten to log out. I quietly followed him. At first, I told myself he just wanted privacy from his official, verified account. But then I saw his comments on Claire’s posts. I realized how naive I’d been. This wasn’t just innocent interaction. They were practically flaunting it, just hiding it slightly. In all these years, Liam had never even made me a cup of hot tea for cramps, let alone stayed up all night. He complained if I asked him to blend a smoothie when he was making one for himself. Seeing that post, tears welled up automatically. 4. The doctor said my progesterone levels were unstable and told me to come back for a follow-up in a week. I dragged myself out of bed the next morning. Before I could even leave, Liam walked in, looking exhausted. He tossed his jacket at me. “Go get me some breakfast. I’m dead tired. Need to eat and crash.” Last night, I’d texted my best friend, Sarah Davis, planning to meet her at the hospital at 9 AM. I hate flaking on plans. I pushed his jacket back. “Order delivery. I have to go out.” Liam grabbed my chin, studying my face. “You’re not still pissed about yesterday, are you? It’s been a whole night.” Right. That was Liam’s way. He knew I was angry, but he always gave me the silent treatment, assuming time would fix everything. I laughed humorlessly. “It’s in the past.” His expression soured. “Ava, why are you always like this? Who are you trying to punish with that sour face first thing in the morning?” Seeing my jaw clench, he knelt, looking at my bandaged knee. “Does it still hurt? Want me to take you to the clinic to get it properly cleaned?” I took two steps back. “It’s been a whole night,” I said flatly. “What’s the point of saying that now?” “I’m fine.” I turned away, unable to look at him. Liam stood up, his tone chilling. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital anyway. Just so you don’t run complaining to Mom and Dad that I don’t care about you.” I took a deep breath. His parents had asked me a few times how Liam treated me. I remembered always saying he was great, just really busy, so we didn’t see each other much. How did that translate to me “complaining” in his mind? “Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” I snapped back. “I got hurt, and you just left me there.” Liam pointed a finger at me, his voice rising. “Ava, can you please try to be reasonable? How many times do I have to explain?” I didn’t say anything. I just opened Instagram and pulled up Claire’s hospital post. Liam froze for a second, then started explaining. “She just likes posting stuff, building her followers. Can’t you just let her have this? Besides, random strangers online don’t know who we are.” He reached for my hand. “Look, Claire was really sick last night. Her parents aren’t around. I couldn’t just leave her. You have to understand.” I looked at his calm face. “It’s fine,” I said tonelessly. “She was sick, weak. Of course, you should stay with her.” Hearing this, Liam smiled, squeezing my hand. “I’m glad you’re not upset.” Just then, I noticed a faint red mark on his neck, trying to hide under his collar. A year ago, even a month ago, I would have exploded. Screamed, demanded answers. But now? I calmly pointed to it. “You might want to cover that up better. You’re usually so careful about your image.” A flash of panic crossed Liam’s eyes. He bolted to the bathroom mirror. “Don’t get the wrong idea!” he called out. “It’s just a mosquito bite from the hospital yesterday! You know how sensitive my skin is.” I nodded slowly. “Are you heading out now? Need a ride to get breakfast?” Liam happily hopped into the passenger seat. We hadn’t even reached the breakfast spot when his phone rang again. Distracted for just a second, I slammed on the brakes too late and hit a stone pillar. Instantly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I gripped Liam’s hand tightly. “Call 911! Quick! My stomach hurts!” His phone was still ringing incessantly. He frowned, answered it. Hearing Claire say her stomach bug was back, he prepared to jump out and grab a cab to her place, leaving me behind. “Liam, don’t go!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “I’m bleeding…” He glanced at me dismissively. “Stop being dramatic, Ava. What a lame excuse. Claire has a stomach bug, so suddenly you have stomach pain too? Are you trying to copy her now?” I grabbed his sleeve, desperate. “Please,” I begged. “Stay with me. I’m pregnant. I’m really bleeding.” Liam yanked his arm away. “Stop lying!” he snarled. “Don’t you think I’d know if you were pregnant?” His words hit me like a physical blow. My body went rigid, and I crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath me, spreading like a dark, slow-blooming flower. Liam seemed not to see it. He got back in the car, drove away, the tires rolling over the edge of the crimson stain.

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My daughter was found in the gymnasium storage room. She wasn’t breathing. Her school uniform was gone. Semen was found on her lower body. The school blamed it on a homeless man with mental health issues. Three months after my daughter died, I received an anonymous text message. 【How do you like my masterpiece? Your daughter was crying for her mommy right before she died! It was so much fun hahaha…】 Masterpiece? My hand tightened around the phone. I was going to make the real killer truly “enjoy” my masterpiece! 1 I had just finished a surgery when I got the call from the homeroom teacher. The surgery had gone exceptionally well; the patient was stable. But before I could even take a breath, the teacher’s voice on the phone was frantic. “Chloe’s mom! You need to come to the school right away! Something’s happened to Chloe!” When I arrived at Maple Creek Middle School, the area was already cordoned off with police tape. I saw a group of officers struggling to restrain a man who was fighting wildly. He was dressed in rags, his hair a tangled, dirty mess, and he was screaming for them to let him go. Ms. Peterson, Chloe’s homeroom teacher, led me to the gym storage room. That’s where I saw my daughter. My Chloe lay naked and still on one of the green gym mats, her legs spread apart. A dark purple bruise circled her neck like fingerprints. Her wide eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her face pale with the unmistakable look of death. Just yesterday, she’d been bouncing around, full of life. The world spun around me. I stumbled and fell to my knees beside her body. The moment I saw two officers carefully lift her into a body bag, I lost all control. A raw, heartbroken sob tore through me. After my husband passed away, it was just Chloe and me. She was my entire world, my reason for living! Who killed my daughter?! I stopped working, put everything on hold. Two weeks later, the police finally gave me their findings. They had interviewed students, Ms. Peterson, and people in the neighborhood. Piecing it all together, they arrived at a logical conclusion. The man who killed my daughter was the same one I’d seen the police struggling with that day. He was a homeless man, known to have psychiatric problems. He often wandered near the school, so the security guard hadn’t paid much attention. On the day Chloe died, the security guard had accidentally fallen asleep on duty. The man had slipped into the school and killed my daughter. I couldn’t accept it. My daughter… my Chloe… just starting seventh grade… Her life, barely begun, snuffed out by a mentally ill man! And violated even after death! What made it even worse was knowing that because of his diagnosis, the man wouldn’t face the death penalty – he’d just be sent to a psychiatric hospital. But the police report showed the semen recovered from my daughter was a definitive match to the homeless man. The hard evidence was laid out in front of me. Not just the police, but Ms. Peterson and the school administration urged me to accept the outcome quickly. “Sarah,” Ms. Peterson said gently, her voice full of strained sympathy, “I know this is incredibly hard to accept right now. But dragging this out won’t do anyone any good.” Filled with a turmoil of doubt, grief, anger, and confusion, I finally signed the paper closing the case. For the next three months, I felt hollowed out, stripped of all energy and spirit. I spent my days sitting numbly in the empty house, from dawn till dusk, replaying memories of Chloe. The hospital sent me a termination letter due to my unexplained absences. I had no heart left for being a doctor, for saving lives. Every time I thought of the patients I’d healed, a bitter unfairness washed over me. Why them and not my Chloe? Don’t they say good things happen to good people? Then why did my daughter die so horribly? One morning, I was sorting through Chloe’s things, tears streaming down my face, soaking the floor. “Chloe, you always complained I didn’t have time to play with you. Mommy was wrong. Please come back, okay?” I spoke to the empty air. Of course, the silent room offered no reply. Clutching the little pony stuffed animal she loved so much, a sudden urge hit me. I wanted to see the man who supposedly killed her. He was confined to the state psychiatric hospital now. No phones, no internet. Just patients with vacant stares. Through the thick observation window, I watched the man sitting on his bed. My hand slipped into my pocket… I had brought a knife. Just as I was about to rush in, to end him, my phone vibrated. An anonymous text message popped up. 【How do you like my masterpiece?】 【Your daughter was so stupid, so easy to trick. Oh, forgot to tell you, she was crying for her mommy right before she died!】 【Hahahaha so funny, so much fun…】

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