Category: English

On the day Sebastian proposed to me, I broke up with him. Our friends looked confused. He knelt on one knee, eyes red, telling me he had been planning this proposal for an entire month. Red roses, flown in from Ecuador, covered the ground. The scent was intoxicating. He really had put his heart into it. But… what a coincidence. I had made up my mind to leave him exactly one month ago. 1 I said the words before Sebastian could even take the ring out of the velvet box. The cheering friends around us seemed to hit a pause button. The evening breeze blew gently, carrying the rich scent of roses into my nose. The proposal scene he prepared was exactly as perfect as I had once fantasized. During the year we were madly in love, I told him that if he ever proposed, it had to be at a vineyard in Napa Valley, with an arch of roses and a white dress like a princess. He had all of that. He had prepared even more. “Why? Don’t you love me anymore, Violet?” It took Sebastian what felt like half a century to react. His usually arrogant face flushed red. I looked quietly at this face. The man I had loved for ten years. He was still as handsome as a fallen angel, still capable of making my heart skip a beat. But… I helped him up and gently patted the shoulder of his expensive suit. “Sebastian, you stopped loving me first.” 2 I was the most invisible “wallflower” on the college campus. My roommate, Serena, was the dazzling sorority queen. She looked down on me, despised me, and humiliated me for fun, treating me like her sidekick. Until the man she was crazy about returned to the States. At his grand welcome party, she threw a dusty, gray dress at me. “Put this on. Go do your makeup. Use a darker foundation shade; it’ll hide that pale, sickly look of yours. You’re coming with me.” “I have a shift at the library tonight…” Serena pulled a stack of cash directly from her Prada bag and threw it in my face. The edges of the bills scratched my cheek, stinging slightly. But I numbly squatted down and picked them up, one by one. It was a few hundred dollars. Enough to cover my medical bills for the week. Today, she acted out of character. She didn’t dress up like a peacock spreading its tail. Instead, her makeup was light, her blonde hair straightened. She wore a pearl-white, Audrey Hepburn-style dress. She looked elegant and noble, like a white swan. And I, wearing a foundation shade that didn’t match and exaggerated eyeliner, was the control group for the white swan. An ugly, ridiculous ugly duckling. 3 I knew tonight’s party was crucial to her. I heard that the man from the top tier of Manhattan’s elite, the one she had a crush on for years, was back. Serena was nervous as hell. She barely spoke in the Uber, constantly checking her makeup in a compact mirror. When getting out of the car, she was so flustered she almost twisted her ankle in her red-bottom heels. Habitually, she pinched my arm. “Watch where you’re going! Are you blind?” The hangers-on around us laughed and persuaded her, “Alright, Serena, calm down. Sebastian will be here soon. It won’t look good if he sees you like this.” Inside the private club, Serena was busy touching up her makeup and taking selfies. I sat in the corner, calculating how to use those few hundred dollars. I raised my hand and gently rubbed my left eye, which was becoming increasingly blurry. My heart was filled with a sense of lost direction. I didn’t know how long I had to endure those dark part-time jobs to save enough money to fix my eye. Maybe, before I saved enough, this eye would go completely blind. Just then, the carved wooden doors were pushed open, and the crowd suddenly erupted. “Sebastian is here!” Serena screamed, “Oh my god, my lipstick!” She scrambled to fix it. I didn’t move. The excitement of the elite class had nothing to do with me. I was just curious. What kind of man could make the arrogant Serena humble herself like this? Through the crowd, I saw the young man. Superior height—the kind of physique built from years of equestrian sports and sailing clubs. The impact of that face was enough to suffocate any woman. But I only dared to glance once before lowering my head. 4 The atmosphere in the room was as hot as a champagne tower overflowing. Cries of “Bash” or “Sebastian” never stopped. Serena shed her usual arrogance, acting like a trained socialite. No one noticed me, the gray blur in the corner. I quietly stood up, wanting to go to the restroom for some air. But just as I stood, the man surrounded by the crowd suddenly looked at me. I lowered my head in panic, my limbs feeling awkward and misplaced. The terrible makeup on my face made me want to crawl into a hole. “Is that your classmate?” A deep, magnetic male voice rang out. Serena paused, then laughed, her tone contemptuous. “Ugh, I didn’t want to bring it up. That’s my roommate.” “She insisted on tagging along to see the world.” “Sebastian… you know me. I’m too soft-hearted to say no.” “But I get it. Who doesn’t want to social climb a little?” A thunderclap exploded in my ears. Sebastian… How could his name be Sebastian? No, maybe it’s just a coincidence. He’s not the only Sebastian in the world. I pinched my palm hard, desperately trying to stay calm. But my blood felt like it was on fire, cold sweat breaking out in layers. I couldn’t help but lower my head further, yet I could still feel that burning gaze. I couldn’t hear what else Serena said mockingly. My left eye throbbed painfully, and tears uncontrollable welled up. Just as I was about to wipe them, the room suddenly went quiet. A moment later, Serena’s sharp voice trembled in the air: “Sebastian, what did you just say?” 5 Sebastian lifted his eyes lazily. He leaned back on the leather sofa, legs sprawled comfortably. His gaze swept lightly over the meticulously dressed Serena and landed on my face with its ruined makeup. Then, he lifted a slender finger and pointed at me. “I said, she is better looking.” The room went dead silent. Sebastian added, unhurriedly: “Considering she’s my first love, of course she’s better looking than you.” The crowd looked at each other, not daring to breathe. I could even hear Serena’s furious, rapid breathing. The next second, Serena lost it completely. She turned around, grabbed a glass of cranberry juice, and splashed it onto my face. “Bitch!” She completely forgot her disguise. “Trying to seduce my man right under my nose?” Serena grabbed my hair, about to slap me. But her wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. “Sebastian!” Serena cried out in anger. “Before you hit someone in front of me, I suggest you weigh your own importance.” Sebastian threw her hand aside, his eyes cold as the Hudson River in winter. Serena covered her face, daring not to make a scene, and ran out crying. The others tactfully left, even though they were dying of curiosity. “Violet.” Sebastian spoke, calling my name. In that instant, I felt like I was sentenced to death. The sticky juice dripped down my face, staining the cheap dress. I stared at the dark water stains. They seemed to merge with the red blood on the infirmary sheets at boarding school years ago. “Violet, don’t always look down. You’re not ugly at all.” “Really?” “Of course. They just don’t have taste.” Eighteen-year-old Sebastian was the king of our private boarding school. He gradually became unsatisfied with just holding hands and hugging. That restless summer night, in the abandoned music room. He coaxed me, unbuttoning my school shirt. When I was nervous and scared, he promised: “Trust me, babe. We are in love. This is natural.” “Sebastian, will we be together forever?” “Of course. Forever.” “But I’m scared… scared of getting pregnant…” “You won’t. Trust me. I’ve got you.” That night, white sheet music was scattered all over the floor. I remember he wouldn’t stop even when the sky turned light outside. He kissed me, biting my earlobe, whispering, “Violet, seeing you… I knew you were the one.”

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The night of my adopted sister Savannah’s seventeenth birthday. Dad blew off a major corporate dinner, and Mom gave her the vintage diamond tennis bracelet she’d been saving. Savannah wore the princess gown I’d bought her. She scolded the catering staff for unsteady hands, after a few drops of soup splattered on her hem. The server bowed low in a pathetic apology, and I smoothly played the role of the good-natured older brother. “It’s alright, she just has a stomach ache and wasn’t steady. Don’t worry, Princess.” “Your brother will buy you two more dresses tomorrow.” The server looked up gratefully, and I froze. Her face was Mom’s face. It looked exactly like my little sister, who’d gone missing twelve years ago, would look now. 1 The girl, Chen Yue, had a tiny mole on her earlobe. Her features were uncannily like Mom’s. The instant I saw her, I was certain. My biological sister, gone since she was five, was found. The moment the DNA results came back. Mom gripped her rough hands, tears streaming. “Ellie, it’s really you, we’ve been looking for you for twelve years!” Dad’s eyes were full of aching pity. “It must have been so hard for you all these years.” Savannah sat in the corner, staring at Chen Yue. Her faded, ill-fitting clothes squeezed Chen Yue’s round, slightly heavy figure. The rubber soles of her cheap sneakers were worn thin. She stood there, awkward and constrained, twisting her fingers, looking blank and bewildered. A sharp pang of sorrow hit me. Little Ellie had been like a pure, white snow-bunnly. She loved clinging to me. The first word she ever learned, when she was barely talking, was “Leo.” My own sister, reduced to this. I placed the investigation report on the coffee table, my heart heavy. “Dad, Mom, just read it for yourselves.” Chen Yue—Ellie—had been abandoned by the traffickers when she developed a high fever on the road at age five; they thought she was going to die. She was picked up by a woman, but the woman’s husband was a monster. He was an abusive alcoholic who killed his wife last year and was sentenced to death. Since then, Ellie had been completely alone. To support herself while still trying to go to school, she had worked every possible low-wage job—waitress, cleaning crew, delivery driver. She’d even lugged supplies at a warehouse construction site. Mom and Dad read the report, biting back tears, damning her adoptive father as less than human. They pulled her into a hug, softly patting her back. “Ellie, don’t be afraid. Dad is here. We’ll change your name this week and enroll you in the best private prep school. No one will ever hurt you again!” “My poor daughter, I’m so sorry we let you suffer for so long! It’s all my fault, my fault…” Ellie’s, no, Elena’s, eyes reddened too. She stiffly managed to say, “Mom and Dad.” My eyes felt hot. “Ellie, I’m your brother, Leo. From now on, I’m your protection.” We were immersed in the joy of finally having her back, lost and then found. Until Savannah, pale-faced, brought over a platter of sliced fruit. The girl who was normally so delicate had a testing look on her face. “Have some fruit, everyone.” “Mom, please stop crying. You just had that expensive eye treatment yesterday.” Mom wiped her eyes and playfully glared at her. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you cut up fruit for us.” Savannah had been in the kitchen maybe a handful of times her entire life. She’d never had to lift a finger; everything was done by Mom or the staff. She clenched her hand, pouting slightly. Mom’s sharp eyes spotted the blood. She quickly walked over and took Savannah’s hand, instantly worried. “What happened to your hand?” “I touched the blade when I was cutting.” “Why are you so careless? Rick, quick, get the first-aid kit.” Dad was instantly concerned and hurried into the house. I got up to check the knives in the kitchen, worried she’d left them lying around without common sense, like she sometimes did when she was younger. The three of us fussed over Savannah for a good while. Once a colorful bandage was applied, we remembered Elena, who was still sitting silently nearby, her eyes empty. The atmosphere turned strangely awkward. I explained, “Ellie, this is Savannah. When I was looking for you all those years ago, I heard a baby crying and found her abandoned in a box. She’s like you, she’s had a tough start. Now you’re sisters. Look out for each other.” Savannah put on a friendly smile, walked over, and extended her hand. “Welcome home, big sister. My room gets the best light, so I’ll move out tonight and let you have it.” “And you can pick whatever you want from my things. Though I don’t think my clothes or shoes will fit.” She looked Elena up and down, then playfully stuck out her tongue. “You’re bigger than me, sister, and your feet are huge, so I guess I can’t share those.” “Ah, but maybe that means you haven’t had it too bad all these years. Otherwise, why the happy weight?” Elena’s face flushed crimson. After a long pause, she managed two clipped words. “I don’t need it.” I felt a prickle of discomfort. Why was she so cold to Savannah? Before I could speak, I heard Mom say, “Ellie, you need to be polite.” “Savannah, there’s plenty of room in this house. There’s no need to move around.” In the end, Elena was placed in the room next to mine. It was always cool and had previously been Savannah’s storage room. It was the only available space for now, and I was sure Elena would understand. Elena only brought two things from the run-down apartment: a photo of her and her adoptive mother, and a scruffy orange mutt. Mom and Dad instantly frowned. Dad was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t like animals inside. Mom wrinkled her nose at the sight of a common stray. But, considering Elena’s feelings, they said nothing. Savannah hugged her arms, fear flickering in her eyes. “I’m scared of dogs.” When did she become afraid of dogs? I didn’t dwell on it. Elena held the dog tightly, her head bowed, looking vulnerable but resolute. “I only want him.” Dad and Mom looked displeased. Savannah said, with a hint of something unreadable, “Sister, you said you couldn’t afford food, but you had money left over to keep a dog?” I intervened, easing the tension. “Savannah, don’t talk nonsense. This dog must be very important to Ellie.” “There’s a small utility room behind the backyard gazebo. We can keep him there.” Elena’s eyes lit up, and she looked at me with gratitude. We spent the day getting new things for Elena. That evening, I brought a box of limited-edition chocolates I’d bought on a business trip to talk to her. “Ellie, are you settling in okay?” “Yes,” she nodded obediently. I wanted to run my hand through her hair but stopped myself, noticing how coarse and split the ends were. “Dad pulled some strings, and the papers are rushed. You and Savannah will start school together tomorrow.” “The private school curriculum is different, and the pace is faster, so Mom hired a tutor for you.” “If you need anything at all, just tell me. Your brother is always here for you.” Elena nodded sincerely. “Thank you.” My gaze drifted to the utility room in the backyard. “Is the little dog special?” Elena glanced at me shyly and explained, “His name is Gus. He was always with me.” “When I was completely broke, he wandered into a diner. The owner thought he was cute, gave me a meal, and let me stay to wash dishes.” “He’s my family.” My heart felt heavy. If she hadn’t been lost, she would be as confident and bright as Savannah. How could she have been left to starve and freeze? I wanted to console her, but looking at her thick frame, I suddenly couldn’t find the words. Savannah’s voice echoed in my ear. Someone who was truly suffering—would they be that heavy? From that day on. Dad went back to his normal work schedule, and I continued my internship at the company. Mom attended her regular society luncheons, dividing her time to care for us all. Elena and Savannah took the same car to and from school. Savannah was openly solicitous of Elena, always deferring to her. She’d help her with missed homework packets, wait for her after school, and put her favorite dishes on her plate at dinner. But Elena never returned the kindness. She never touched the food Savannah served her. She would constantly come home late, claiming someone had blocked her, locked her in the bathroom, or mocked her. She even said Savannah had deliberately hidden a test paper. I didn’t believe Savannah would bully her, but I worried about Elena being a target. Mom and Dad consulted the teachers, who confirmed nothing of the sort had happened. I picked Elena up a few times myself. Each time, her classmates were nothing but friendly. It was Elena who seemed like a porcupine—isolated, irritable, and quick to anger. We reluctantly held a small family meeting. Dad looked at Elena with disappointment. “Ellie, why did you lie?” “I didn’t lie.” Elena was frantic, sweat beading on her round, slick face, her fringe sticking together in strands. I felt a twinge of mild disgust. I turned to look at the clean, composed Savannah, and my eyes felt better. “They knew you were coming to pick me up, so they pretended to be nice!” “Are you saying Savannah alerted them? And the teachers are covering for them?” Elena stubbornly thrust out her neck, admitting it by silence. Savannah trembled, biting her lip, swallowing her pride. “If Sister says so, then it must be true. I apologize, I’m sorry.” A surge of anger rose in me. Since Elena came back, Savannah had been nothing but warm, only to be met with constant coldness. My cherished little sister—why should she be unhappy because of her? Mom was heartbroken. “You’re such a good kid, Savannah. What if she keeps bullying you?” She looked at Elena, her face hardening. “Ellie, we’ve indulged you because you suffered for over a decade. We understand you want family love and attention.” “But there’s a limit to how spoiled you can be. No well-raised child would slander her sister out of jealousy.” “We’ll let this slide, but I expect you to change. Don’t act like those bad kids.” Mom and Dad didn’t want Savannah to be sad, so they took her to an amusement park and asked me to drive. When I came back down with the car keys, the living room was empty except for Elena, sitting alone, clutching her stomach. She seemed to be in pain. “Leo, do you believe me?” I didn’t turn around. “Ellie, senior year is important. Focus on your studies.” “We treat you and Savannah exactly the same. Don’t overthink things, and don’t make trouble.” I couldn’t indulge her anymore; she had to learn. I hardened my heart and strode out, faintly hearing a choked gasp. Elena did change. She stopped accusing Savannah. When she came home late, she only said she was studying. She spent more time with Gus in the garden. Dad decided it was unfair for Savannah to have to wait for her every day, so he hired another driver. A week passed smoothly. But Mom and Dad weren’t happy. Thanks to Elena’s resemblance to Mom, when they met neighbors, everyone was shocked that the biological daughter of the Sullivans looked the way she did. No self-control, no grace, no style, timid and silent. She was leagues behind the poised and elegant Savannah. Mom was subtly mocked a few times and felt humiliated. She complained to us privately. “I wish Savannah were my real daughter.” I saw a shadow flicker outside the door but said nothing. Elena started dieting. She ate only one small meal a day, always boiled vegetables. She often stared blankly at Savannah. Savannah was surprised. “Sister, do you want to be as thin as me? But I was born this way; I can eat anything and not gain weight.” Mom didn’t stop Elena’s diet; she even gave her advice on losing weight. But I saw Elena drag her exhausted body back from school every night, and I hesitated. “Maybe take a break, Ellie. High school students need nutrition for all the studying.” Her dark, deep-set eyes looked up at me. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Leo?” I was suddenly speechless. … Elena’s weight loss made no progress; she was even heavier, and her health was visibly worse. Standing next to Mom, she looked like an older, worn-out helper. Her face was sallow, and she kept to herself, knowing her place. To try and please us, she started getting up early to make breakfast. Mom and Dad didn’t touch it, saying it wasn’t hygienic to mix dough without gloves. Mom complained that she had no concept of ‘luxury’ or ‘quality.’ Elena looked deflated and stopped. The high-end gated community always held an annual Owners’ Gala. It was a chance to network and scout business opportunities, and our family attended every year. This year, because of a rainy July, it was set for August. Mom often dragged Savannah along to pick out dresses. She kept choosing, but nothing felt special enough. She wanted bespoke, vintage-inspired gowns and suits. The tailor’s schedule was booked for over a month. When Mom sighed in frustration, Elena spoke up hesitantly. “Mom, I can make them.” Mom was skeptical. “My… my foster mother was a tailor. I learned from her since I was little. I can make gowns.” Mom gave a strange little laugh. “Fine. You make them, then. The whole family is counting on you.” Afterward, Mom complained to me bitterly. “Her personality is bad enough, now she’s a liar, too. Let’s see how she gets out of this one.” I knew Mom just wanted to teach her a lesson. I did, too. Her opportunistic character would lead to trouble later. Better for us to correct her now than for society to beat her down. But Elena was more serious than we imagined. She took measurements, bought sewing tools, and the best fabric she could afford. Except for tutoring and walking Gus, she locked herself in her room, sewing day and night. Several times, she was found asleep, clutching her stomach and slumped over the sewing machine. There were pain pills nearby. Probably her period, I thought. I told the housekeeper to take up some ginger tea. The night before the Gala, her hands dotted with tiny needle pricks, she presented two gowns and two suits. Her eyes were bright, full of expectation. “Mom, they’re finished.” There was a moment of stunned silence. Mom took them, her expression complex. “You actually… well, thank you.” Elena twisted her fingers, her voice surprisingly light. “As long as you like them, Mom.” I noticed the count was wrong. “Why are there only four? What about yours?” Elena clutched the hem of the suit, lowering her gaze. “…I didn’t have time. You all go, I’ll stay home to study.” Mom looked relieved, yet regretful. “That’s right, your test scores last semester weren’t great. You should focus on your work.” Elena nodded obediently and returned to her studies. I watched her retreating back, lost in thought for a long moment. I’d seen it. The fifth outfit was done, a matching family set. The neckline embroidered with cherry blossoms. But, her not going was the better choice. It was always painful to be mocked. The next day, Mom gave us the clothes. But they weren’t the ones Elena made. “I didn’t even look at them. She’s so young; what quality could she produce?” “Everyone at the Gala wears custom designer items. How could I possibly wear something from an unknown source?” Mom sighed, her voice low. “It’s her fault, too. She couldn’t read between the lines, forcing me to be the villain and turn her down.” Savannah twirled in the gauze dress she was wearing, doing a graceful little dance. “Mom, my taste is good, right? I told you, you get what you pay for. You have to spend money for true luxury.” Dad and Mom praised her. I was also cheered by her lighthearted spirit. As a family, we headed to the Gala. I glanced back once, seeing a lone figure slumped by the upstairs window, a collar embroidered with cherry blossoms just visible. I flashed on her sleepless, dark-circled eyes, and felt a brief moment of unsettling guilt. Savannah sweetly took my arm. “Leo, why don’t we invite Sister? Other people’s opinions don’t matter, family unity is what’s important.” “No need. She said she didn’t want to go. You’re too kind, Savannah.” That day, we posted a nine-photo grid on social media. Elena did not like the post. Mom laughed, calling her petty. Elena spent even more time locked in her room studying. Savannah, however, was always dressed up and going out. She’d sometimes laugh out loud while looking at her phone at the dinner table. She also started asking for more money. We always gave it to her—girls in her social circle had to keep up appearances. She went on a half-month trip with her friends. Mom and Dad missed her terribly. When they tried to video call, she hung up impatiently, saying she was busy. I laughed, comforting my disappointed parents. “It’s your fault for spoiling her, she’s always been dramatic.” Mom glared at me. “You haven’t exactly held back on spoiling her either.” Savannah lowered her head, quietly eating her rice. Summer flew by. Just before school started, Savannah sought out Mom, Dad, and me, her face grave. “Dad, Mom, Leo, Ellie is my sister. I’ve thought hard, and I can’t cover for her anymore.” Her eyes darted around the room. “Yesterday, I went with my friend to a clinic for a routine checkup, and I saw Sister going into the Women’s Health department…”

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For three days, I hadn’t submitted a single expense request through the corporate system to Grant. He must have assumed I was finally learning how to be a proper high-society wife, because he sent a text message, a condescending gesture of reward. “I’ve resumed your mother’s treatment. Learn your lesson now—stop lying and padding your requests for extra cash.” “I know it’s hard for people from your background, but my money isn’t that easy to steal.” What he didn’t know was that by the time I received that text, I had already finalized the divorce papers. The only thing I could take with me was the white T-shirt and worn jeans I’d been wearing the day I moved in. No one would believe that Eleanor Stone, the glamorous wife of Grant Harrington, didn’t own four respectable pieces of clothing after three years of marriage. Every private expenditure had to be filed through the corporate expense system. All my clothes and jewelry were kept under lock and key in a walk-in safe, and I had to apply to his secretary, Serena Wu, just to access them. It was because he despised my humble origins. He was convinced I would acquire the “bad habit” of reckless spending, common among the newly rich. Three days ago, my adoptive mother’s condition worsened critically. I filed an urgent request for twenty thousand dollars for surgery. Serena, however, deliberately stalled the expense approval, a delay that cost my mother her life. She died in that hospital bed. Grant never understood. The only reason I endured him for so long was for the exclusive medical resources his company controlled—the only resources that could have saved her. Now that she was gone, there was nothing left to stay for. 1 I told Grant I wanted a divorce, but he refused. His response was a cold, three-word text: “Stop the drama.” When he finally spoke to me, his eyes never left the glow of his laptop screen. It was as if the dry electronic data held more interest for him than the conversation with his wife. I lowered my gaze, my voice steady. “I’m serious, Grant. I want a divorce.” He stood up, inhaling deeply, his expression chillingly detached. “The pause in your mother’s treatment? I authorized it. It had nothing to do with Serena; she was just following orders.” “If you hadn’t barged into my office and made a scene, I wouldn’t have felt the need to teach you a lesson.” “I had the treatment reinstated yesterday. My time is precious. I don’t have time for your temper tantrums.” He turned and walked away before I could reply, convinced that it wouldn’t be long before I came crawling back, head bowed. He was sure I’d swallow my pride and start trying to please him again, just like before. Even when he’d told me to my face, “Don’t be so desperate for my attention, it’s frankly disgusting.” I would just smile and silently return to being the dutiful, long-suffering housekeeper. But whether the treatment was reinstated now or not no longer mattered. If Grant had just taken my call three days ago, I might still be here, flattering him, bending over backward for him. But he was always too impatient to talk to me. I begged him not to hang up that day, pleaded for him to hear me out. But my desperate cries were instantly drowned out by Serena’s smooth, poisonous voice. “Is Eleanor upset because I reminded her to follow proper protocol, Grant?” She sounded delicate, wounded. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just don’t want her to keep those messy, unplanned habits from her old life. If I stick strictly to the rules, she’ll learn discipline.” Hearing that, Grant’s impatience with my call sharpened. Ignoring my pleas, he delivered a cold, final command: “Do exactly what Serena says.” It was always the same whenever I needed him. “I’m busy. Talk to the secretary.” “Listen to Serena.” “Do whatever Serena tells you to do.” I was his wife, yet I had no dignity. Forget having a normal life. Even for the necessary social functions of a Grant Harrington wife—the ones I was required to attend—I had to submit an application for approval from his secretary. Every time, Serena would smile brightly and casually reject the ridiculous request. “Ellie, the description isn’t detailed enough. Rewrite it, please.” “The gala ends at 10 PM. Why did you write 12 AM? That’s not acceptable.” “Ellie, why are you always like this? Didn’t I tell you to review your application before submitting? Check it again.” She always ensured the approval came at the very last second, then she would watch, smiling sweetly, as I frantically scrambled to reach the venue, often late, often looking like a mess for the sake of a necklace or a dress. When I inevitably arrived late, Grant would look at me with palpable displeasure. “Eleanor, don’t you have a sense of time management?” “You can’t even handle a small task like this. Do you see now why you could never measure up to Serena?” But I couldn’t handle that small task. I was constantly late. All because of Grant Harrington’s “excellent secretary” and “virtuous assistant.” He couldn’t see it, or he simply didn’t care. Just as he knew my mother’s illness couldn’t tolerate delay or a break in medication. Yet, he still snapped at me irritably over the phone. “How many times do I have to tell you? If you need money urgently, go to Serena. Do you think she wouldn’t give it to you?” Getting money from Serena was, as always, an ordeal. “What kind of emergency needs twenty thousand dollars upfront? Ellie, are you just inventing excuses to get cash?” “Twenty thousand isn’t a small amount. I need an itemized receipt before I can approve it, darling. Application denied for now.” I explained it was an estimated pre-payment, and the final receipt would only be issued upon discharge. Serena curved her lips into a smirk. She feigned realization. “Oh, is that how it works? I wouldn’t know; everyone in my family is perfectly healthy.” “But expense approvals are very strict. We can’t let violations slide. How about you get a formal policy document from the hospital and attach it? Then I’ll approve it. Denied for now.” Later, she tried another tactic. “Hospitals sometimes fake documents, don’t they? I’m not saying you would, Ellie, but the possibility exists.” “Why don’t you attach the industry regulations instead?” And just like that, the critical time for emergency treatment was pushed back and back by Serena. By the time I finally received the money, even the most exceptional medical team was powerless to reverse the outcome. A continuous knot of hatred and anguish tightened around my heart. A suffocating feeling, beyond description, filled my chest. This marriage was a cage that restrained me. I had to escape. The moment I clearly understood my next steps, I suddenly felt light. It was as if the invisible shackles I’d carried for years had abruptly vanished. So when I received Serena’s defiant social media post—a picture clearly meant to provoke me—I felt absolutely nothing. I was calm enough to screenshot it and even click the ‘like’ button. Whenever Serena was involved, Grant’s messages always came quickly. “Serena has done great work lately. I’m simply taking my employee out to dinner. Don’t start any ridiculous rumors, Eleanor, and don’t make people misunderstand the situation.” I don’t know what Serena had told him this time, but he followed up with a self-righteous demand. “You already liked the post. If you take it back, people will get the wrong idea about Serena.” “Leave a comment, praising her work. Consider it encouragement from both of us, as a couple.” I didn’t intend to respond. But I thought about it, and the bitterness in my stomach was too much to swallow. So I complied with Grant’s demand. I commented on Serena’s post: “Serena, your dedication is admirable. Your impartial application of the corporate expense policy to both your boss’s wife and your co-workers, and your use of a simple system to wield the maximum amount of petty tyranny, is exemplary. Keep up the good work and the excellent wickedness.” “Every penny you save for the corporation now is a potential increase in your future alimony, should you succeed. Thumbs up.” I tossed my phone aside after replying. I began to calmly pack my things. My phone kept buzzing the entire time, but I ignored it. Packing didn’t take long. After all, every single valuable item supposedly belonging to me was locked securely behind a password-protected closet door and a triple-locked safe. For years, I had been a temporary guest in this house. Even my presence left only the shallowest trace. Now that my eyes were open, I finally understood the truth. 2 Grant arrived home fast. I had to admit it again: when it came to Serena, he was always prompt, never dragging his feet. He didn’t seem to notice the small suitcase by my feet, his eyes blazing with fury. “Did you not hear me calling you?” I was indifferent. “I heard it. I chose not to answer.” Grant looked at me as if I’d spoken an utterly ridiculous line, genuinely unable to comprehend my refusal. “I told you! Serena’s work has been excellent lately. I simply took her out for dinner.” “Do you have any idea how many people in the company already misunderstand her? How is she supposed to maintain her reputation after you post something like that?” I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a cold laugh. “Well, it seems not everyone is blind, then. Turns out, some people know exactly what she’s been up to.” I looked at Grant. “Besides, I’m not her mother. Why should I worry about whether her life at the company is easy or not?” Grant’s face darkened instantly. “Eleanor, when did you become one of those vulgar people who listen to every baseless rumor?” “You know how difficult it is for a young woman to achieve a high-ranking position in the corporate world. Why are you spreading slander and insulting another excellent woman? If you hadn’t thrown that fit at the office last time, would Serena have had to endure this?” His eyes were full of exhaustion and accusation. “You want to be an unproductive socialite? I won’t fault you for that. I’m happy to keep you in luxury. But not all women are as short-sighted and useless as you are.” “If you continue to be malicious and slanderous toward Serena, don’t test me. Think about your mother.” I finally burst out laughing. My voice was raw with grief and pain. Right in front of Grant, I opened my suitcase. “Luxury? Take a look at the life of luxury I lead in your house.” “I’m leaving, and I can’t pack four decent items of clothing. I have to file an expense report just to get a haircut, asking your esteemed secretary for permission. The nanny’s monthly salary is higher than mine, the wife of Grant Harrington!” I grabbed Grant’s arm and forcefully dragged him to the walk-in closet, pointing at the combination lock on the door. “Do you even know how to open this lock? It requires a code and a fingerprint scan. Even your company’s confidential files aren’t secured this tightly!” “What kind of wife living in ‘luxury’ has to beg for her daily necessities like a mistress living off scraps from her husband’s secretary?” Incredulity was etched all over Grant’s face. He looked bewildered. “Is this why?” “Is this why you’re jealous of Serena? Why you ran to the office to ruin her reputation?” Hearing his question, my heart sank completely. Everything I’d just said was utterly wasted on him. If Grant had believed for one second that this was wrong, that it was insulting and degrading to me, he would have stopped it years ago. For all these years, he had indulged every ridiculous suggestion Serena made, putting my basic necessities under the corporate expense system. I lowered my eyes. “Fine. Think whatever you want.” “We’re getting a divorce.” Hearing my absolute certainty, Grant actually smiled. His expression was one of knowing condescension. “That’s enough, Eleanor. I don’t have time to coddle you.” “Your drama is just a cheap stunt to compete with my secretary. Don’t assume all women are petty and small-minded like you.” He slowly smoothed the wrinkles I’d created when I grabbed his shirt, sounding as if he were making a massive concession. “Tomorrow, I’ll arrange for the best medical team from overseas to treat your mother. I’ll also have Serena give you the codes for the closet and the safe, and change the fingerprint access to yours.” “From now on, the finance department will wire you ten thousand dollars a month. No more expense forms.” After all our years together, I knew Grant well. For him, this was the ultimate compromise. Logically, I should have accepted the truce. But I was truly sick of this three-person relationship. No—perhaps I had never been truly involved in the first place. Even now, he made all these promises, yet he didn’t say a single word about Serena’s actions. We both knew the ridiculous expense protocol was her sick joke. The man in front of me casually agreed to change the system. It meant he simply didn’t care. If I accepted his arrangement now and returned to being Mrs. Harrington, Serena would still be a permanent fixture in our lives. “I don’t want any of it. I just want a divorce.” Grant finally realized I wasn’t just throwing a tantrum. Not only was I rejecting his peace offering, but I was determined to leave. His impatience instantly curdled into rage. “Eleanor, don’t forget the prenuptial agreement! You won’t get a dime if you divorce me!” “And what about your family business, and your mother’s illness? Do you really think your stepfather—the one with the new family—will take care of her without me?” Of course, he wouldn’t. I was painfully aware that if that ungrateful man hadn’t abandoned my mother and forced me into a corner, I never would have agreed to this absurd marriage in the first place. Grant and I were parallel lines that were momentarily forced to intersect. Now, all I was doing was letting things return to their proper course. I zipped up my suitcase again, my voice neutral. “I don’t care.” Grant froze, confused as to why his historically foolproof methods no longer worked. But his ego wouldn’t allow him to beg. So he simply watched, silent, as I walked to the door. Right as I pulled the door open, Grant almost gave in to the sudden terror and called out my name. But then he remembered what Serena had told him. “The wife is just bored at home, Grant. She wants to play out a scene from a bad soap opera.” “I’ve seen plenty of women spoiled by the good life. Just ignore her, let her stew, and she’ll come running back soon enough, apologizing to you.” She will be back, Grant thought, fighting his rising anxiety. He reached into his pocket but pulled out only a piece of handmade pear candy. He often coughed after smoking, especially when the weather was dry, so I had found many small ways to help him feel better. She isn’t completely useless, Grant conceded to himself. When she comes back, I’ll make sure she apologizes properly, sincerely regrets this, and never threatens me with divorce again. He quickly convinced himself. 3 After leaving Grant, I hesitated for a long time before going to see my old professor. When Professor Adler, her hair now completely white, saw me dragging my thin suitcase, she didn’t say a word. She simply stepped aside, gesturing me into her home, just as she had for all my visits years ago. My eyes instantly welled up, and tears began to fall. She had been the fiercest opponent of my decision to quit school and marry. Even on my wedding day, she didn’t stop texting me. “Ellie, hardship is temporary. There is no obstacle you can’t overcome.” “You can find another way to solve your problem. Don’t be foolish and sacrifice your entire life.” “The trophy wife life looks good on paper, but your contributions are invisible. Your degree will be a temporary halo, but you will always be a beggar, dependent on others for money. And when you beg, you always have to bow.” Time had proven Professor Adler correct in every way. Initially, Grant was impressed by my degree. But then Serena entered his life. She claimed that since I had been a ‘street urchin’ before my adoption, a college degree couldn’t erase the bad habits I’d learned in my youth. She said I needed to learn the rules of their class and develop good spending habits. I was the one asking Grant for money. He could choose to give it to me, choose not to give it to me, or choose to give it to me in the most humiliating way possible. I cried until I had nothing left. Professor Adler finally spoke, her voice calm. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your skills.” “I have a job here, field research that requires hiking and deep data collection. Are you in?” I was momentarily stunned. I hadn’t expected my mentor not only to welcome me but to offer the very thing I needed most—work. She frowned slightly. “What? Have you gotten too used to the good life of a socialite? Can you no longer handle the grind of us working stiffs?” The tears were still on my face, but I managed a genuine smile. “I can handle it, Professor. For myself, I’ll endure any hardship.” Professor Adler smiled warmly, immediately shifting into action. “If you agree, contact the team quickly. This is work, not a TV drama. We don’t have time for self-pity.” Under her arrangement, I quickly joined the research team. At first, I struggled to adjust. But as the days passed, the knowledge and operating procedures etched into my soul surfaced. I became increasingly adept. The serious, unsmiling team leader gave me a thumbs-up. “I was worried you’d be too delicate. But you’re proof that great teachers produce great students.” I smiled back. “Everyone is just looking out for me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have adjusted so fast…” Just as we were joking around, an inappropriate call rang out. “Eleanor?” I turned to see Serena, dressed in high fashion, clutching a brand-new designer handbag. She looked dismissively at the people around me. “I wondered why you suddenly started demanding a divorce from Grant. Turns out you’re just slipping back to your old habits, slumming it with these sorts of low-lifes again.” She wrinkled her nose as if speaking to us was a generous gift. My face went cold. We were measuring data like savages, and we probably looked a mess, but that wasn’t an excuse for her to insult us. “Serena Wu, are you a cockroach? Are you everywhere I go?” Serena’s face flushed. A deeply familiar man emerged from behind her. “What’s wrong?” Hearing his question, Serena’s eyes reddened, and she spoke in a soft, injured voice. “Nothing, darling. It’s just that Eleanor has been gone for so long, and I saw her here, mixed up with some rough-looking people, obviously stalking us. I just tried to talk some sense into her…” “But she completely misunderstood…” Grant finally noticed me standing opposite him. He frowned slightly. His eyes held an air of knowing dismissal. “Eleanor, are you harassing Serena again? If you’re here to apologize to me, you need to apologize to Serena first!” I rolled my eyes and, with a gesture, led my team away. A female colleague beside me whispered, “Ellie, who was that?” I sneered. “My blind, brainless ex-husband.” Grant’s face darkened, and he demanded, “Eleanor! You followed us all the way out here. How long are you going to keep this up?” “You’ve been gone for weeks, showing no concern for your mother. Where is your conscience? Are you really going to force me to cut off her medical funding?” I looked at him with profound weariness, my voice flat. “Just do it, then. It’s the thing you do best, isn’t it?” Stung by my look of utter contempt and coldness, Grant couldn’t tell whether he felt more anger or the dawning fear of loss. He immediately pulled out his phone, missing the flicker of panic on Serena’s face. “Grant, maybe we shouldn’t…” Grant pushed down Serena’s hand, which was clutching his arm, and spoke to her with sudden, chilling finality. “She needs a lesson. Otherwise, she’ll never learn how to be Mrs. Harrington!” The assistant on the other end of the line sounded hesitant after receiving the order.

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I kidnapped the Crown Prince of New York’s elite for fifty thousand dollars. I dragged him to a cabin in the woods and called my boss, a local mobster. “What do I do with him?” “Slap him,” the boss said. The signal in the mountains was terrible. I heard “Kiss him.” So I leaned in and planted one on him. The next second, text floated across my vision like a live stream chat: […She’s not just hungry for money, she’s deaf.] [Nah, she’s just thirsty. Look at Mia drooling.] [Mia just wanted to kiss him, she’s pretending she heard wrong.] Chapter 1 I suspect my boss isn’t in the underworld. He’s in the adult film industry. The evidence? He gave me two very suggestive orders. First: “Slap him.” “Kiss him?” I repeated into the phone. Usually, kidnapping involves punching and kicking. Ours involves kissing? “Boss, are you sure?” “Hurry up,” the boss ordered from the other end. “Until he bleeds.” “Bleed?” I gulped. “It’s my first time doing this.” Kinda embarrassing. “Practice makes perfect…” “Boss, I’ve read plenty of romance novels, but I lack practical experience.” “What practical experience… this is practical experience!” The signal was cutting out, mixed with static. “Stop wasting time…” “Do it or not…” “Do you want the money?” At the mention of money, I panicked. “Yes, yes, yes.” I laughed nervously into the phone. “Boss, I’m kissing him now.” I looked down at Asher Sterling, the heir to a New York empire, tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He was wearing nothing but a grey bathrobe. His chest, flushed pink, was exposed to the cold mountain air. If not for the ropes, the loose belt around his waist would have slipped off completely. I didn’t dare look, but I couldn’t help stealing a few glances. I whispered, “So… sorry.” I meant to grab his collar and give him a peck. But Asher’s body, toned from years of gym sessions, was firmer than it looked. I didn’t pull him up; instead, inertia sent me crashing down onto him. My teeth slammed hard against his soft lips. “Hiss—” Asher sucked in a breath instinctively, a trace of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. Technically, I kissed him. And he bled. “Done, boss.” The next second, the boss’s satisfied voice came through: “Good job.” For some reason, floating text appeared before my eyes: […She’s not just hungry for money, she’s deaf.] [Nah, she’s just thirsty. Look at Mia drooling.] [Mia just wanted to kiss him, she’s pretending she heard wrong.] Before I could read the comments carefully, a thought struck me. I pressed my hands against Asher’s chest, half-sitting on him, and asked: “Do you have H. pylori?” The text changed: [What the hell is H. pylori doing here?] [LMAO I’m dying.] [Wait, the victim hasn’t even spoken yet.] [Why is Mia so goofy right now? Kinda cute.] […] Chapter 2 Second order: “Beat him.” “Huh?” Sleep with him? “Boss… isn’t that a bit much?” First kissing, now sleeping? “Beat him until he’s half-dead.” Is he trying to ruin his reputation? What a sinister, cunning plan. Sleep with him until he’s half-dead… That’s pretty brutal… I picked at my fingernails, negotiating: “Boss, since it’s my first time, can you add another ten grand?” “You’re bargaining?” “No, no.” I changed my tune immediately. Fifty grand plus sleeping with Asher Sterling? I’m winning either way. “Boss, when do I get the fifty grand?” “Do as I say first. The Sterling family will bring the ransom tomorrow.” I hung up. Asher lay on the floor, his face dark, gritting out through his teeth: “Mia Stone!” “You recognized me?” My heart skipped a beat. Exposed so soon? Then I really can’t let him go. Asher and I met when we were kids. When I was five, my mom took me to Asher’s birthday party. Before leaving, I cried and rolled on the floor, demanding to marry Asher, relying on my mom’s friendship with Mrs. Sterling to demand an arranged marriage. “Heh.” I stood up, dusting myself off nonchalantly. “Still holding a grudge after all these years.” But I was no longer the spoiled Stone heiress. When I was ten, my mom died, and my father remarried. I found out I had a half-sister, Chloe Stone. Thus began my long life of “living under someone else’s roof.” Just last week, I got an acceptance letter from an art school in Paris, planning to leave the Stone family forever. But my stepmother incited my father to marry me off to the youngest son of the Thorne family for a business alliance. Chloe would marry Asher instead. It didn’t matter who I married, until I accidentally found out the Thorne son had anger issues and liked to hit people. I wanted to run, but Chloe stole the bank card my mom left me. Desperate, I contacted a guy from the underground and kidnapped the freshly returned Prince of New York. “You want money that badly?” “Yeah.” I’m taking risks, walking on the edge of a blade. Isn’t it obvious? “How much?” “Fifty thousand.” Asher frowned. “Dollars?” “Yeah.” Asher’s face turned darker. “Pathetic.” Why is he insulting me? Chapter 3 Even the floating text was mocking me: [Girl, you kidnapped Asher Sterling, the Prince of New York, for fifty grand?] [Stealing one of his shirts would get you more than that ransom.] [Suddenly I feel bad for Mia. I feel like I’d only dare ask for fifty grand too.] [That Patek Philippe on his wrist is worth five million buns.] [Patek Philippe, Patek Philippe, Patek Philippe…] What Patek Philippe? What five million buns? I ignored the text. Squatting down, I pondered how to sleep with the man in front of me. Asher was radiating heat, and my head was spinning. Thinking about what I had to do, my fingers trembled. Next time I kidnap someone, I need to clarify if it’s a hit job or a… hit job. “Scared?” Asher looked at me, lacking any professional hostage decorum. “Scared?” I puffed out my chest. “Joke.” I straddled him, fumbling for the next step. The knots in the rope were tricky. I got anxious, sweat beading on my forehead. Asher’s eyes held a smile, his voice muffled: “Need help?” I hid my panic, barking fiercely: “Don’t move, you’re distracting me.” He trembled slightly. A low chuckle spread through the small room. The text: [Ahhh, am I the only one shipping this?] [The male lead seems so indulgent.] [Why is Mia so clumsy?] [I can’t wait for the next part!] Indulgent? It looked like blatant provocation to me. In my haste, my hand slipped and pressed down hard. He frowned instantly, sucking in a breath: “My…” I scratched my head. “Sorry, no experience.” Asher’s mouth twitched. “Should I do it?” “???” Is that appropriate? My hand, reaching for his pants, froze. I bent down, pulled off one of his socks, and stuffed it in his mouth. “I’m the kidnapper, or are you?” The silence in the comments was deafening: […] […] […] [Great, she’s straight as an arrow. We’re doomed.] Chapter 4 With Asher gagged, the world was much quieter. My hands moved faster. I stripped Asher to the waist in seconds. Bronzed skin, defined muscles, a lean waist… And those collarbones. My ears burned, blood rushing to my head. For a collarbone fetishist like me, this was too tempting. I pressed down on his chest and bit… The text: [Male lead’s body is top tier.] [I can’t help it either.] [Warning: High energy ahead. Big doings.] [The author actually wrote this? I came for this scene.] [Too bad Mia has no stamina, she’s about to faint from low blood sugar.] [Boohoo, I wanted to see 300 rounds.] [Upstairs, you’re thirsty too.] I paused. Who are they looking down on? Faint? Okay. Maybe. I haven’t eaten in three days. Sure enough, halfway through, my last bit of strength drained away. “Pain—” My body felt like it was falling apart. The text went crazy: [Wait, that’s it?] [Wasn’t it supposed to be big doings?] [Mia, get up and continue!] I was about to close my eyes in annoyance when I saw the last line of small text: [Am I the only money-grubber still thinking about the male lead’s five-million-dollar Patek Philippe?] My dizzy brain cleared instantly. Five million… watch? Holding up my pants with one hand, I groped for Asher’s watch with the other. I took it off and examined it. “Looks pretty ordinary.” “Real or fake five million?” “Doesn’t look like it.” I took out my phone to scan the price. 360 degrees, couldn’t scan it. The text: […] [Great, she’s checking Amazon. We’re done.] [You idiot, Amazon won’t have that.] Right. I opened eBay. […] [Mia doesn’t think eBay will have it, right?] [You have to check the official website.] [Damn it, just ask the guy!] Agreed. I pulled the sock out of Asher’s mouth. “How much is this watch?” Asher didn’t speak, staring at me with lowered eyes, his cheeks flushed. I played with the watch, suspicious. “Looks pretty ordinary.” Asher’s eyes darkened, his voice low: “You stop now to ask this?” “I gave up resisting, and you stop?” “It’s only five million.” I stopped playing with it instantly, cradling it in my palms. Only. Five. Million. Damn, who said this watch was ordinary? It’s magnificent. The text urged: [Forget the watch, do the deed!] [My pants are off, don’t stop!] [The male lead is dying here.] [I paid VIP for this.] [Mia, stop looking at the watch, get to work!]

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1 My girlfriend built an empire from scratch, becoming a top-tier tycoon. But she was ruthlessly impartial, refusing to hire me even though I’d poured my own blood, sweat, and tears into building the company with her. When my mom got sick and we were desperate for money, Ava wouldn’t budge. “A job, a handout… Have you considered my position, Ethan? How would I maintain respect?” So I stopped begging. I sold everything I had—the small condo, the car—to scrape together enough for my mother’s surgery. But when I arrived to pay, the nurse stopped me at the door. “I’m sorry, the donor kidney has already been purchased. You’ll have to wait for the next one.” The words hit me like a lightning strike. A second later, I saw Ava escorting her young protégé, Leo, into the operating room. The kidney I had been desperately waiting for, the one that was supposed to save my mother, had been casually bought by Ava and given to him. I tried to force my way in, desperate, but she just called the police. The twenty-four hours in a holding cell meant I missed my mother’s last moments. After the surgery, Ava lit up the entire city with fireworks to celebrate Leo’s recovery. I sat in the sterile silence of the morgue, crying until my tears ran dry. Her so-called impartiality wasn’t set in stone. It just never applied to me. … I moved through the motions of arranging my mother’s funeral, a hollowed-out shell. Outside, the sky continued to explode in a kaleidoscope of color. Just two days ago, she wouldn’t even lend me a thousand dollars. She had even berated me in front of the entire company. “Can you stop being so selfish? This is a massive corporation. Why should I bend the rules for you?” I had fled the office, burning with shame, tears streaming down my face. And just one day later, she pulled strings and threw money around to save her precious protégé. A million-dollar firework display just to celebrate his new lease on life. My whole body trembled. Every breath was a shard of glass in my lungs. My phone buzzed relentlessly, call after call, but I ignored them all. A moment later, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Ava grabbed my arm. “Ethan, why aren’t you answering your phone? Do you have any idea how worried I—” Her words died in her throat when she saw my swollen, red-rimmed eyes. She froze, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. She couldn’t even meet my gaze. “I… I didn’t know your mother was that sick.” She was lying. After I was released, I had gone looking for her, fueled by a desperate need for answers. I found her outside Leo’s hospital room and heard their conversation through the door. “Ava,” Leo’s voice was soft, “Ethan’s mom passed away. You gave me the kidney… you think he’ll hate you for it?” There was a long silence before Ava’s voice, raspy with emotion, finally answered. “His mother was too far gone. Even with a new kidney, she wouldn’t have lasted long. Besides, he still has me. I’ll love him enough for the both of us.” But I didn’t want it. Her love felt like poison. My fingernails dug into my palms. “Stop lying,” I said, each word precise and cold. “We’re done.” Ava’s face went rigid. Her voice was laced with disbelief. “What are you talking about? We’re engaged. The venue is already booked.” “Then cancel it.” The words left my lips without a hint of hesitation. How could she possibly think I would still marry her? Even the wedding venue wasn’t my choice. Leo had picked out every last detail. I had had enough. “Ethan!” A weak, tearful voice shattered the tense air. Leo, clutching the area over his new kidney, slowly sank to his knees before me. “It’s all my fault. I was the one who begged Ava for the kidney. Don’t blame her. Blame me.” Ava’s heart went out to him instantly. She rushed to his side. “Get up, Leo.” “No, I won’t. I caused all this trouble. I’ll take the blame.” They went back and forth, a picture of selfless devotion, their eyes filled with a deep, protective affection for each other. It was as if I was the villain in their tragic love story. Just like that, Ava’s fleeting guilt vanished. She helped Leo to his feet, turning her back on me without a second glance. As she led him away, Leo wrapped his arm around her neck. Hidden from her view, he looked back at me and arched an eyebrow. He mouthed two words silently: Get lost. 2 I tore my eyes away, not even bothering to give him a reaction. For six days, I handled my mother’s funeral arrangements alone. Ava tried to contact me several times, but I just blocked her number. On the seventh day, the day of the service, she showed up with Leo. “Ethan, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Leo bowed his head, his face a mask of sorrow. Then, he made to kneel before my mother’s memorial table. I moved instantly to block him. “Don’t,” I said, my voice ice. His hypocrisy was nauseating. If it weren’t for him, my mother would still be alive. What’s more, when she was sick, Leo had gone out of his way to torment her, calling Ava away in the middle of our family dinners, interrupting us when we were trying to take one last family portrait. His petty games had worsened her condition. Letting him kneel here now would be a final, grotesque insult to her memory. The room was filled with friends, relatives, and some of my old colleagues from the company. Their whispers filled the air as Leo stood there, looking utterly humiliated. Tears welled in his eyes, and he put on a pitiful display of grief. Ava grabbed my wrist, her grip tightening. “That’s enough,” she hissed, her voice low and menacing. “How much more do you want to humiliate him? The office is already buzzing with rumors that he’s a manipulative monster. Are you trying to drive him to suicide?” A knife twisted in my gut. He sheds a few crocodile tears and she’s ready to defend him to the death. But my mother was gone, and to her, it was as if nothing had happened. Looking back, her favoritism had always been there, right under my nose. I remembered a time in college when the three of us went out for barbecue. Leo’s ex-girlfriend showed up and started a scene. Out of nowhere, Ava exploded. She grabbed a chair and just started swinging. She was like a feral animal. I was terrified she would kill someone, so I jumped in to stop her and got knocked to the ground for my trouble. But then Leo yelled, “That’s enough!” and Ava immediately stopped. In the end, they were both perfectly fine. I was the one who ended up with seven stitches in my forehead, looking like a clown. My heart felt like it was being churned by a slow, blunt blade. My eyes burned, but no more tears would come. Leo was still playing the victim. “Ethan,” he whimpered, “Ava is like a sister to me. It’s only right that I pay my respects to… her future mother-in-law. Please, don’t overthink this.” Ignoring me, he tried to kneel again. I couldn’t stand the thought of him tainting this space. I lunged forward and shoved him back. “Get out! Both of you, get out!” I hadn’t used much force, but he let out a theatrical scream. “Agh!” A roaring filled Ava’s ears. Her hand flew out, and my world tilted as her palm connected with my cheek. I stumbled backward, crashing into the memorial table. Plates of offerings shattered on the floor, the sound echoing the breaking of my own heart. My vision swam with red. A mournful cry echoed in my mind. It was all ruined. Everything was ruined. My mother had suffered so much in life, and now she couldn’t even rest in peace. Leo was still sobbing in Ava’s arms. Something inside me snapped. I grabbed a ceremonial knife from the table and lunged at them. “Die, you two! Just die!” Ava’s face paled, her eyes wide with disbelief. Before she could speak, Leo, genuinely terrified, dragged her out the door. My relatives swarmed me, holding me back, afraid I would actually commit murder. I didn’t sleep that night. The tears finally came again, an endless, silent stream. Ava sent a novel-length text message, a stream of apologies, but I couldn’t bring myself to read a single word. The next day, a video of me trying to attack them with the knife somehow made its way to Ava’s mother. She kicked my door open first thing in the morning. “Ethan, are you insane? Attacking people with a knife is a crime!” she shrieked. “Thank God Leo told me what happened. I will never let a psycho like you marry into my family!” Behind her, Leo chimed in, his brow furrowed with fake concern. “Ethan, please don’t be mad at me. I see Ava as family. I couldn’t just stand by and watch her walk into a fire.” I laughed, a cold, bitter sound. He didn’t see her as family. He saw her as his ticket. I remembered when we all went on a trip together. Ava and I had our own room, but Leo kept waking us up all night, complaining of chest pains or stomach cramps. He spent the entire trip glaring at me like I had murdered his father. When I pointed it out, Ava just laughed it off. “He’s just a kid, Ethan. Don’t be silly.” 3 The joke was, Ava was the only one who couldn’t see it. Her mother knew exactly what was going on and used Leo as a weapon against me all the time. “If you don’t behave, there are plenty of other young men who would love to be with our Ava.” “Ava doesn’t need you. A husband can be replaced. A mother can’t.” I had heard it all until I was sick of it. Now, it was finally time for it to end. “You don’t have to worry,” I said, my voice flat. “Ava and I already broke up.” Her mother blinked. “Impossible! Ava was just talking about wedding plans yesterday. You’re lying!” A wave of nausea washed over me. I was so utterly tired of this family. I opened the door wider. “Get out,” I said, my voice cold. “You’re not welcome here.” Her face turned a mottled shade of red and purple. She couldn’t believe that I, the always-placid Ethan, would dare speak to her like that. Leo, on the other hand, looked smugly satisfied. His mission to completely destroy my relationship with Ava’s family was a success. Just then, a car screeched to a halt outside. Ava jumped out. “Mom, what are you doing here?” Her mother’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Look at the wonderful man you picked! He threw me out of his house! You need to break up with him right now!” Leo added his own dramatic flair. “She was being perfectly reasonable, but Ethan just started screaming at her.” They painted their own version of reality, a perfect duet of lies. I braced myself for Ava’s anger, but instead, she turned on them. “Didn’t I tell you I would handle my own affairs? What are you doing here?” Ignoring their stunned expressions, she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward her car. “Where are you taking me? Let me go!” Ava just slammed her foot on the gas. “I’m taking you to the office. Today, you start. From now on, you own half the company.” My mind went blank. I felt nothing. What was this? A slap in the face followed by a piece of candy? “I’m not your dog, Ava.” Her own temper flared. “I’m just trying to make it up to you! Ethan, don’t be so stubborn.” Stubborn? My mother’s death was just me being stubborn? My throat tightened, as if a hand were squeezing it shut. My chest felt like it was about to explode. 4 Ava tried to say something else, but I snapped. I lunged across the console, my hand striking her face again and again. The sound of the slaps was sharp and clear in the confined space of the car. She didn’t even try to stop me, just held the wheel, her jaw tight, refusing to let me go. When we got to the office, she disappeared into the restroom to deal with the red marks on her face. Everyone stared and whispered as I walked by. “What’s he doing here? I thought Leo replaced him for good.” “Probably here to beg. He knows he’s about to get dumped.” I couldn’t stand it. I walked straight to Ava’s office. Her laptop was open on the desk. I was going to look up some company files, but my hand brushed the trackpad. A video file popped open and started to play. There, on this very desk, were Ava and Leo. Tangled together, naked and writhing. Our framed photo was crushed beneath them. “Ava, I love you so much, Ava—” Bang. The door flew open. Ava stood there, her face a mask of panic. When she saw the calm expression on my face, the color drained from hers. She lunged forward and slammed the laptop shut. “Ethan, that night… I was drunk after a client meeting. I thought he was you—” “No need to explain.” My voice was eerily steady. “Just liquidate my share of the company stock. Then we’re even.” The last bit of color fled her face. For the first time in our entire relationship, she lowered her head to me. “It was one time, Ethan. Can’t you just forgive me this once?” Once a cheater, always a cheater. I turned and walked out. She scrambled after me, her voice desperate. Suddenly, her phone rang. She answered it impatiently, but as she listened, her expression transformed. Her eyes, when they met mine again, were like poisoned daggers. I instinctively took a step back. Before I could speak, her hand shot out and clamped around my neck. She screamed for security, and two guards grabbed my arms, pinning me. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Why would you do this?” she roared, her voice raw with fury. “I would have given you any compensation you wanted! Why would you do this?” I couldn’t breathe. My face was turning purple. “What… are you… talking about?” I choked out. She shoved her phone in my face. “See for yourself!” The video, the one I had just seen, was plastered all over the internet. The headlines screamed. Leo was having a complete mental breakdown, holding a knife to his own wrist. “Just let me die!” he was screaming in the accompanying news clip. “How can I face anyone now? The whole world knows I’m a homewrecker!” A few of Leo’s buddies from the office came running out. Without a word, one of them swung, his fist connecting hard with my jaw. “You bastard! You’ll rot in hell for this!” I tried to fight back, but it was three against one. They wrestled me to the ground. They exchanged glances, a mix of contempt and cruel excitement in their eyes. Then they started dragging me toward a dark corner of the parking garage like I was a stray dog. With my last ounce of strength, I reached out and grabbed Ava’s leg. “It wasn’t me!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Help me!” She looked down at me, her face a mask of profound disappointment. “You’re still lying. Even now. Why, Ethan? I wronged you, yes, but Leo is still just a student. You’ve ruined his life!” She coldly pried my fingers from her ankle and walked to her car. “I have to go to Leo. You made this mess. You can deal with the consequences.” With that, she got in her car and sped away. I curled into a ball on the cold concrete, my heart shattering into a million pieces. I fumbled for my phone to call the police, but the guy with the crew cut slapped it out of my hand. Another one of them spoke nervously. “Hey, let’s not go too far.” “Don’t worry about it!” the first one snapped. “Remember what Leo told us? We rough this guy up, make sure he’s too broken to ever bother Ava again.” That was all the encouragement they needed. They descended on me like a pack of wolves. Punches and kicks rained down on my body. I curled up tighter, screaming, but no one came to help. They just grew more frenzied, more excited by my pain. As consciousness began to slip away, I lunged forward and bit down hard on the crew-cut guy’s hand. I clamped my jaw shut, tasting blood, and tore away a piece of flesh. “Aaargh!” he howled, clutching his bleeding hand. “Kill him, Rick! Kill the son of a bitch!” The other two hesitated, a flicker of fear in their eyes. “What are you waiting for?” he screamed. “Leo’s going to be the new boss! You’ve got nothing to be afraid of!” That seemed to settle it. They closed in again, their heavy work boots slamming into my chest, my legs, my stomach. A final, blinding pain, and then my vision tunneled and went black. I heard their panicked voices from a great distance. “Is he… moving?” “This wasn’t us… we didn’t do this…” They scrambled away, their footsteps echoing in the empty garage, each one blaming the other. A few moments later, a passerby found me and called an ambulance. Ava was at the hospital, watching over a hysterical Leo. Her mother had finally managed to calm him down; his self-inflicted wounds were nothing more than superficial scratches. “Don’t you worry, Leo,” Ava’s mother cooed, stroking his hair. “After all this, I’ll make sure Ava marries you.” She was so engrossed in her promise that she didn’t notice the storm brewing on her daughter’s face. Ava, feeling suffocated, stepped out into the hallway for some air. The moment she pushed the door open, she saw me, my face as white as a sheet, being rushed on a gurney toward the emergency room.

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While I was scavenging for trash, I stumbled upon a street activity. “I’ll give you 100 dollars, and you spend it. I’ll pay,” said the influencer. Taking the 100-dollar bill, I smiled with a sense of relief. He didn’t know that I would use this money to kill three people right in front of tens of thousands of viewers in his live stream. 1 I had just put a plastic bottle I found in the trash into my woven bag when I heard someone call me from behind. “Ma’am, I’ll give you a hundred dollars. Spend it however you like.” A fashionably dressed man, hiding the disgust in his eyes, pointed his phone camera at me. Seeing my confused look, he took out a hundred-dollar bill and stuffed it into my hand. “I’m a streamer. Take the money, buy whatever you want!” I clutched the money tightly, squinting at his phone screen. “Finally live! I can’t go a day without watching Big Chris.” “Big Chris helping those in need with real action, thumbs up!” “This scavenger lady looks so pitiful, her clothes are dirty and torn. I really hope this hundred dollars can improve her life a bit.” Comments scrolled by, and the viewer count in the live stream kept climbing, instantly hitting over ten thousand. I put the money in my pocket and nodded to this streamer named Chris. This many witnesses were enough. 2 Chris followed behind me, talking eloquently to the camera. “Fam, I’ve been doing this hundred-dollar street charity challenge for a year now. It’s thanks to your support that I’ve come this far.” “Rest assured, the targets I choose are all people in difficult situations who need help.” “A hundred dollars is small, but it can truly help them!” “You can say I’m stingy, but I have a clear conscience!” Chris’s voice was very persuasive, and soon the screen was filled with gift effects. He glanced at me and continued: “This lady looks about sixty. It’s not easy being out scavenging at this age, relying on picking up trash to survive.” “Let’s see, what practical things can she buy with this hundred dollars?” After speaking, he quickened his pace to walk alongside me. “Ma’am, where is your family? How can they let you scavenge at such an old age?” I said lightly. “My family is all gone.” Chris sighed and shook his head. “Sigh, you really have a hard life.” “If you need any help, just tell me, Big Chris won’t hesitate!” I turned my head and stared at him quietly. He got creeped out by my stare and asked awkwardly: “Ma’am, what’s wrong?” I curved my lips and smiled gently. “No need, you are helping me right now.” 3 Chatting along the way, I walked to a fruit stand in the market. The fruit stand was under an old building, with no one in front of it. A woman about my age glanced at me and walked up reluctantly. “What do you want to buy?” I pointed to a bundle of sugarcane nearby. She looked me up and down and said grumpily: “Sugarcane is thirty dollars a stick. Do you have money?” I waved the bill in my hand at her, and she then slowly took a stick of sugarcane to peel. Comments floated by. “She’s had such a bitter life, getting money and wanting something sweet immediately.” “Wait, this shop isn’t right. Sugarcane is at most twenty dollars a stick.” “And she picked the oldest one for the lady! Streamer, remind her!” Chris looked at the screen from the side and whispered: “Fam, the principle of the stream is to give money but not interfere.” “So, I can’t intervene in this situation.” After the owner peeled it, I could clearly see the sugarcane was dry, with black spots inside. She walked to the sugarcane cutting machine not far away, quickly chopped the sugarcane into sections and bagged them, then came to ask me for money. I shook my head, smoothing my hair messed up by a gust of strong wind. Under her surprised gaze, I extended two more fingers. “Give me two more sticks.” A look of joy appeared on the owner’s face, and she pulled out two more sticks of poor-quality sugarcane to peel. The comments on the screen surged continuously. “Is this lady senile? Can’t she see she’s being given bad sugarcane?” “Buying so much sugarcane, can she finish it?” “Exactly, others save to buy daily necessities. She just spent it all at once.” Chris watched his phone quietly, the corners of his mouth rising constantly. Controversy brings heat. In this short while, his live stream gained several thousand more viewers. The owner was quick with her hands and feet, processing the other two sticks of sugarcane at the cutting machine in no time. I stood in front of her, looking at her coldly. As she packed the three bags ready to give me, another strong wind blew. Dust on the ground mixed with various plastic bags flew all over the sky. The owner subconsciously reached out to wipe her eyes. The next second, a dull crack sounded, and warm blood splattered on my face. She collapsed to the ground, her head smashed by a piece of wall brick falling from upstairs. 4 After the people around reacted, sharp screams erupted. Chris’s eyes widened, clutching his phone tightly, the camera fixed on the fruit stand owner’s body. Comments surged like a tide. “Holy crap, holy crap!” “Someone died? For real?” “Omg, witnessing a death live!” Someone at a nearby stall called for an ambulance and police. Soon, sirens wailed as they arrived. The doctor got out, took one look, and shook his head. The police examined the scene, took notes, dispersed the crowd, and arranged for the doctor to cover the deceased with a white cloth and carry her onto a stretcher. After everything ended, Chris’s face was full of ecstasy. The live stream was packed with comments, and the popularity was skyrocketing. He continued to the camera: “Fam, we just witnessed a death incident live.” “A living life vanished right before our eyes, it’s truly heartbreaking.” “You never know which comes first, tomorrow or an accident.” “But our agreement with the lady still stands, our stream won’t stop.” “Now, let’s continue!” Chris looked at me with a smile, the disgust in his eyes gone. After all, I was now his money tree. I continued leading him through the market, glancing at the screen, a few comments catching my eye. “Why do I feel like that fruit stand owner was killed by this lady?” “If she bought one less stick of sugarcane, the owner would have left the cutting machine sooner and wouldn’t have been hit by the falling brick.” Many people retorted. “That owner was a crook, bullying the lady for not knowing better, deliberately giving her bad sugarcane.” “Evil people get their karma, good riddance!” “Exactly, who knows how many more people she would have scammed if she lived.” I looked at these comments, sneering in my heart. These people hide behind the internet, standing on a self-righteous moral high ground, hurling abuse at anyone who disagrees. Their morals are actually not much higher than that fruit stand owner’s. Glancing at Chris, I stopped in front of a cheap men’s clothing store. I casually picked up a ten-dollar red tie, pulled it hard with both hands, and nodded with satisfaction. After paying, I handed the tie to Chris. “Take it, this is a gift from me.” Chris looked at this cheap red tie with a difficult expression. “Omg, the lady is so nice!” “I’ve watched streams for so long, this is the first time someone used this hundred dollars to buy something for the streamer!” “Boohoo, in the lady’s generation, a guy in a suit and tie is the most handsome and promising, that’s why she bought a tie for the streamer.” “Streamer, this is her heart, just accept it!” For a moment, countless gifts floated across the screen. Chris looked at the comments and accepted the tie with a smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Theoretically, I shouldn’t accept it.” “But I can’t bear to let down your kindness, so I’ll take it.” I smiled watching him gesture with the tie around his neck. The bright red tie looped around his neck, not too big, not too small, just right.

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My husband left work early to pick up our daughter, Sophie. I was at home, preparing a birthday surprise for her. I had just put the Boston lobsters and king crabs in the steamer when my husband texted: “Turn off the stove! Don’t cook them yet!” I knew immediately. Sophie’s classmate had tagged along again. It wasn’t that I was stingy or didn’t want to share. But this classmate lived right across the hall. For the past few months, she and her brother had been practically living at our house, eating and drinking for free. Meanwhile, her mother wouldn’t even offer my daughter a single popsicle. I ran to the kitchen and turned off the heat. Good food is for family. We’ll eat later, just us. 1 For Sophie’s twelfth birthday, we planned a quiet celebration at home. My husband, Mark, had exceeded his sales targets recently, and his boss gifted him two boxes of premium seafood. Boston lobsters and king crabs—worth over a thousand dollars easily. Mark and I have lived half our lives without tasting such luxury. Sophie had seen mukbang videos online and was drooling over them. Today, our family of three was finally going to feast. “She insisted on getting in the car. I couldn’t exactly kick her out once she was seated,” Mark texted while waiting at a red light. He drove today intending to take Sophie shopping, but ended up stuck with our neighbor’s kid. “It’s fine. Just don’t let her in the house later,” I replied. Our neighbor, Karen, had a daughter named Bella in Sophie’s class. We’ve known them for about a year. Bella frequently came over, usually right around dinnertime, shamelessly asking what we were eating. Then she’d give me puppy eyes and ask, “Auntie, can I have some?” In front of Sophie, I couldn’t refuse. After this happened repeatedly, I told Bella not to come during meals, but she ignored me and kept ringing the doorbell. When they did homework, Sophie would share her snacks. Bella always asked for extra to take home to her little brother, Ben. I told Sophie not to share everything. A case of 24 milk cartons used to last Sophie a month. Now, sharing with Bella, it was gone in a week. Milk, cookies, cake—individually cheap, but the cost adds up fast! Sophie was unhappy. “Mom, she’s my best friend. She shares with me too.” I softened, thinking I shouldn’t interfere too much with her friendships. Aside from being thick-skinned, Bella was generally polite. Until a month ago, I overheard Karen talking to her daughter in the hallway. “The neighbors bought pork knuckles today. Go over there and eat your fill.” “And bring some snacks back for your brother.” “Come back after 9:30 so we save on electricity.” I didn’t confront them immediately to keep the peace. But for the next two weeks, we didn’t cook a single meat dish for dinner. Bella would come, scan the table, see nothing she liked, and leave. I also confiscated the snacks in Sophie’s room. Gradually, Bella stopped coming over for homework. Without the food, she became cold to Sophie, ignoring her in the hallway. “See? She’s only friends with you for what she can get,” I told Sophie. “No food, no friendship.” Sophie, being stubborn, still greeted Bella and invited her over. “No food at your house, I’m not going,” Bella bluntly refused. Sophie even spent her own allowance to buy Bella snacks. A week ago, Sophie ran home crying, wanting a popsicle. “Mom, you were right.” I took her downstairs to buy one. Karen was seemingly waiting for me. Holding an apple, she looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I always buy popsicles in even numbers for Bella and Ben.” “If I gave one to Sophie, I’d have an odd number, and my kids would fight.” “You only have one child; you don’t know the struggles of raising two!” She squatted down and shoved the apple into Sophie’s hand. “Understand Auntie, okay?” Then she stood up, smiling. “When are you making pork knuckles again? Bella’s been craving them, and I’m a terrible cook.” “If you can’t cook, buy takeout,” I said coldly. I tossed the apple back to her. I thought that was the end of it. But Karen’s skin was thick enough to pretend nothing happened. Here she was, standing at my door, holding Ben and Bella. “It’s Sophie’s birthday! I’m not cooking tonight. They can eat here.” 2 She reached for the door handle. I blocked it from the inside, forcing a polite smile. “Sorry, we aren’t celebrating this year.” “Just a small cake. You should take the kids home.” Karen looked surprised. “Not celebrating? I saw a delivery guy bring two boxes to your place at noon.” “Heard it was seafood. Bella and Ben haven’t had seafood in ages. Perfect timing, right?” She pulled a red envelope from her bag and handed it to Sophie. “A little something from Auntie. Happy Birthday!” I tried to block it, leading to a shoving match. It was rush hour; neighbors were passing by, watching. Karen loudly announced she was giving Sophie a red envelope, earning praise from onlookers. Mark grabbed the envelope and stuffed it back into her bag. “Thanks, but we really want a private family dinner.” Taking advantage of the chaos, Bella and Ben slipped through the door. They ran to the kitchen. Clang! A pot lid hit the floor. “Mom! They really have king crabs and lobsters!” they cheered. I never imagined children could be so rude. Mark went in and dragged them out. They fought back, clinging to the sofa, screaming and kicking. Ben suddenly yelped. “Why are you hitting my son?!” Karen screeched. Mark, scolded publicly, tried to explain he hadn’t hit anyone. Karen stormed in, grabbed her kids, and turned to yell at me. “Is this over a popsicle? Are you that petty?” “No one in class plays with your daughter except mine! I let her come to the party out of kindness! It’s not like they’re freeloading!” “It’s just crab! If you don’t want to share, fine! Don’t make up disgusting excuses!” She twisted the narrative perfectly. Neighbors poked their heads out. “Sophie’s mom, that’s not right. The kids are close friends, why exclude them?” “How much can kids eat? It’s just seafood. Why be so stingy?” “And hitting a child? That’s too much.” Before I could explain, Karen dragged her kids home and slammed her door. Mark and I looked at each other. It took a while to explain the truth to the neighbors. Afterward, I steamed the seafood. We were about to eat when the class group chat exploded. 3 Karen’s message was at the top: [Can’t believe I have neighbors like this.] [It’s her kid’s birthday. I gave a red envelope, and they lied about not celebrating and kicked my kids out.] [Turns out they just wanted to hoard the king crab and lobster for themselves.] [My daughter is such a good friend to hers! And this is how they treat her?] A parent tagged Karen: [Wrong chat?] Silence for three minutes. Karen: [Oops, sorry everyone! Wrong chat. Can’t delete it now. Please ignore.] But people love drama. Someone tagged her: [Is this about Sophie’s mom? You guys are neighbors, right?] Karen didn’t reply, but the discussion started. [My son said it’s Sophie’s birthday. She promised to invite him but canceled last minute. He was so sad.] [Kids’ birthdays should be lively!] [I invite the whole class for my daughter. Doesn’t cost much.] [I saw Sophie’s dad post the crab on Facebook. Doesn’t look that big.] [Sophie’s mom is being petty here.] … I barely knew these parents, yet they were judging me. I tagged Karen: [Stop lying. We didn’t invite you. You forced the red envelope on us.] [What we eat is none of your business.] [Your daughter practically lived at my house for months, eating our food and taking snacks home. Did I ever complain?] Karen tagged me back: [Freeloading? That’s harsh. What did she eat?] [If we’re counting, your daughter ate a bag of chips, two packs of konjac snacks, three spicy strips, and a chicken leg at my son’s birthday.] [I bought her a lemonade, an ice cream cone, and even a dress when we went shopping.] [If you’re going to be this petty, our kids are done being friends.] A parent posted a laughing emoji: [Wow, Karen remembers every detail.] I laughed too. Those snacks were the only food at her son’s party, shared among three kids. The lemonade and ice cream were shared between Sophie and Bella. The dress was a buy-one-get-one-free item from a street stall. I explained all this in the chat. Karen accused me of slander. Seeing her panic, I uploaded a 5-minute and 37-second audio recording. 4 The recording started from the moment Karen opened her mouth at my door. Her unreasonable demands were clear as day. Then I uploaded screenshots of my online shopping history—six months of gifts for Bella. Pens, notebooks, dresses, shoes. Ranging from $10 to $50. I tagged Karen: [If I recall, the dress your daughter is wearing today is from my order history. Screenshot #8.] [Everyone, judge for yourselves.] Silence in the group. Karen blew up my phone with messages and calls demanding I delete the post. I blocked her. Peace at last. A few minutes later, several parents added me. I thought they wanted to comment on the drama, but they just asked for links to the clothes I bought. One parent messaged: “You’re too nice. Why do that for her kid? I wouldn’t do that even for my best friend’s child.” Soon after, the teacher disbanded the group and created a new one. “Parents, please keep private matters private.” The farce ended. I worried Sophie might be gossiped about at school, but she said kids were actually nicer to her. Bella was moved away from Sophie’s desk. They stopped talking. Karen and I avoided each other. When we did meet, she’d turn her nose up in the air. Neighbors learned the truth and whispered, “That woman has no shame.” A while later, I noticed my delivery boxes disappearing from my door. An elderly lady on the second floor collected cardboard, but she usually stuck to the dumpster area. I ignored it at first. One morning, I woke up early and heard rustling outside. Checking the peephole, I saw Karen taking all my boxes.

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1 I’ve been playing men like fiddles since I was a girl, a self-taught master of the innocent act. But even a woman as free-spirited as me had to face the music: an arranged marriage to save the family business. Just as I was resigning myself to my fate, my fiancé’s “best girl friend” came back from abroad. At her welcome-home party, this friend, Anna, lost a party game. Her forfeit? To straddle my fiancé, Adrian, and have him help her unhook her bra. When she saw me arrive, she grinned. “Hey, future sis-in-law! We’re just pals, practically grew up in the same pair of jeans. There’s nothing he hasn’t seen. You’re not gonna get bent out of shape over a little thing like this, are you?” Adrian’s childhood friends quickly chimed in to smooth things over. “Everyone in our circle knows the future Mrs. Thorne is the epitome of grace and class. She’s not the type to sweat the small stuff.” I’d already heard all about Anna and her “one of the guys” routine on my way over. A slow smile spread across my lips. This was going to be fun. She wanted to be “one of the guys”? I’d show her what a true master of the game looked like. … I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, my smile flawlessly sweet. “Why would I mind? It’s totally normal for good friends to roughhouse a bit. Honestly, I’m a little jealous of your bond.” Adrian seemed surprised by my easy-going response. He gently pushed Anna off his lap, offering a half-hearted scolding. “You’re a grown woman. Stop messing around.” Anna stuck her tongue out playfully, then immediately locked her arm around Adrian’s, refusing to let go. Just like that, I, the fiancée, was shoved to the periphery. A classic, premeditated move on Anna’s part. But I didn’t let a hint of displeasure show. I simply took a seat and quietly joined their game of King’s Cup. During the first round, I pretended to be a complete novice, flipping my card over for everyone to see. “I got the number four.” Anna let out a condescending laugh. “Adrian, where did you find this girl? She’s never even played a simple game like this? Another boring good-girl type.” My hand paused, and I let a flicker of hurt cross my face. I knew Adrian had a soft spot for the fragile, damsel-in-distress act. It made him feel like a savior. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’ve never been good at these things.” Just as I’d predicted, his brow furrowed, his voice taking on a serious edge. “Don’t be ridiculous, Anna. Sera is just innocent. This is her first time in a bar.” I lowered my head, letting my long hair curtain my face as I gave my shoulders a slight, almost imperceptible tremble. In the dim, pulsing light of the club, they all probably thought I was fighting back tears. In reality, I was fighting back a laugh. Thank you, Mom and Dad, I thought, for insisting I play the part of a sweet, untouched angel for this engagement. Adrian gestured, and the person next to him quickly scooted over. He patted the now-empty space on the sofa beside him. “Sera, come sit here. I’ll teach you.” Ignoring the thunderous look on Anna’s face, I moved to Adrian’s side. But she wasn’t one to be outdone. She was already plotting her next move. Soon enough, Anna was chosen by the King again. This time, the dare was explicit: Sit on the lap of a man of your choice and feed him a drink, mouth to mouth. The whoops and hollers from the group nearly blew the roof off the private room. Anna’s eyes scanned the men before landing, with dramatic finality, on Adrian. She picked up a glass of whiskey, her smile wild and triumphant. “Adrian, my brother in arms. You gonna help a friend out or what?” The hand Adrian had on mine tightened for a second. I could feel his hesitation. The cheering only grew louder. His best friend, Ethan, started banging on the table. “Don’t go soft on us now, Thorne! Not in front of your girl!” “Everyone knows you and Anna are just friends! It’s just a kiss, what’s the big deal?” The words boxed him in. He glanced at me, searching for something. I met his gaze with eyes wide and crystal clear, offering a look that was not just permissive, but encouraging. “Go on,” I said softly. “It’s just a game. It’s okay.” A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, as if my indifference bothered him, but the roar of the crowd was too much. He leaned back into the couch in a gesture of surrender. Like a conquering hero, Anna sauntered over, whiskey in hand, and settled onto his lap. The room fell instantly silent, all eyes fixed on the charged, scandalous scene unfolding before us. Anna wrapped her arms around Adrian’s neck, took a sip of the liquor, and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. A few seconds stretched into an eternity. A trickle of amber liquid escaped the corner of his mouth, a glistening testament to their intimacy. The room erupted in applause. Anna’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She turned to face the crowd, her voice loud and clear, aimed directly at me. “What are you all staring at? We’re just friends! Don’t make it dirty!” I watched the whole melodrama play out, then calmly set down my glass of juice. Now that everyone else had had their fun, it was my turn. I’d outgrown these childish games years ago. When I wanted to play, I could make them all dance like puppets on a string. For the rest of the night, every single round, the King card found its way into my hand. I propped my chin on my hand, my gaze sweeping lazily across the room. Anna watched me with a dismissive smirk, clearly convinced that a little wallflower like me couldn’t possibly cause any trouble. I smiled back, my eyes crinkling with mischief. “Number three has to kiss number four. For five seconds.” Number three was Ethan, the loudest of the cheerleaders. And number four? My “devoted” fiancé, Adrian. The room went dead silent again. Ethan and Adrian stared, mouths agape, while the color drained from Anna’s face. Oblivious to the sudden tension, I chirped happily, “Go on! You’re all best friends, what’s a little kiss? Anna just gave a perfect demonstration! Don’t be so stingy with your brotherly love. Oh, or do you only kiss your girl friends, and not your guy friends?” I put extra emphasis on the words friends and demonstration. After all the grandstanding about their “unbreakable bond,” backing down now would be a direct insult to their sacred friendship. Trapped by the rules and the suffocatingly awkward atmosphere, Ethan gritted his teeth and leaned in to give Adrian a long, passionate kiss. I clapped my hands, laughing with delight. “This is so much fun!” She liked watching him kiss his friends? Fine. He could kiss them all. Over the next three rounds, I didn’t let up, drawing the King card each time. By the end of it, every single one of Adrian’s “brothers” at the table had shared a kiss with him. After Ethan broke the ice, none of the others could refuse without looking like a poor sport. Adrian, for his part, remained frozen in his seat, his face as dark as a thundercloud, radiating a chilling aura. “Are you having fun?” he bit out, his voice dangerously low. I tilted my head up, my expression one of pure, childish glee. “So much fun! Darling, am I the luckiest girl or what? And your ‘best girl friend’ is so interesting! I can’t wait to hang out with her again.” Adrian’s expression was a twisted knot of emotions. He gave up trying to speak, snatched his jacket from the couch, and stormed out of the room. Anna scrambled after him. “Adrian, wait for me!” I called out sweetly to their retreating backs, “Are we done playing? But I was just getting the hang of it!” Anna shot me a look of pure venom over her shoulder. “You’re sick.” 2 Adrian didn’t contact me for a few days after that night. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet. I went shopping, took a flower-arranging class, and enjoyed my freedom. Anna’s social media, however, was anything but quiet. A couple of days ago, she was at a ranch with Adrian, riding horses. The caption read: “There’s no point in being his trophy wife. Be his ally. The one who’s always by his side.” A few days later, they were on jet skis, a nine-photo spread of their cozy moments. In the pictures, they wore matching t-shirts. Hers read “The First Woman,” with a line of smaller text beneath it: “Always in your heart.” My best friend shoved her phone in my face, zooming in on the text. “This girl is beyond shameless,” she fumed. “She’s not just annoying, she’s actively trying to steal your man! Sera, how can you be so calm?” I took a leisurely sip of my afternoon tea. “Why rush? There are plenty of men in the world. If she wants him that badly, she can have him.” “But what about your family?” she pressed, her voice laced with worry. “I thought the whole point of this engagement was to fix your company’s cash flow problem.” I shrugged. “The ink on the partnership agreement dried two weeks ago. I never planned on actually marrying Adrian anyway. The breakup was always part of the plan. I just needed him to be the one at fault.” Honestly, if Anna hadn’t shown up, I would have had to work a lot harder to make that happen. According to Anna’s latest blog post, tonight she and Adrian were going to fulfill some important “ten-year pact.” I didn’t know the details, but it sparked an idea. I pulled out my phone and called my old friend Leo, inviting him to go camping on Blackwood Mountain to watch the stars. As soon as we arrived, I posted a series of photos to my Instagram story. I carefully mimicked the composition of Anna’s pictures with Adrian, tagged our location, and added a cryptic caption: “You know the secrets of the universe, and the secrets of my heart.” An hour later, long before any shooting stars appeared, I heard the roar of an engine. Adrian stepped out of his car, the harsh glare of his headlights casting his face in shadow. “You don’t send a single text for days, and I find you camping on a mountain with another guy? Seraphina, have you forgotten you’re my fiancée?!” His voice was loud, and I feigned a terrified flinch, tears instantly welling in my eyes. “Darling,” I cried, my voice trembling. “You walked out on me the other night… I thought you were angry, that you didn’t want me anymore. I was too scared to call you.” Adrian froze, his anger deflating as he looked at me. His gaze then shifted to Leo. “And who is this?” Leo stepped forward, and I linked my arm through his, explaining patiently to Adrian. “This is Leo, my childhood friend. We practically grew up in the same pair of jeans—just like you and Anna.” My twisted logic left Adrian speechless, his face a mask of fury. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me back down the mountain. On the way, his phone began ringing incessantly, buzzing like an angry hornet. I was trying to nap, but the noise was driving me crazy. “Sweetheart, who is that? It must be important, you should answer it.” Before he could protest, I reached over and hit the answer button on the car’s display. Anna’s frantic, screeching voice filled the cabin via Bluetooth. “Adrian Thorne! You get a girlfriend and suddenly you forget about me? This is our ten-year pact! You promised me! I don’t care what you’re doing, if you don’t come right now, I swear I’ll jump off the damn roof!” 3 Adrian’s face grew even darker. He stabbed at the screen, ending the call abruptly. I spoke softly, my voice laced with gentle confusion. “Anna sounds really upset. What’s a ten-year pact? It sounds important. Darling, do you have somewhere you need to be? It’s okay, really. I can just get a cab home.” “Shut up,” he snapped, his voice cold and frayed with irritation. “It’s nothing important. She’s just being dramatic. I’ll have Ethan go pick her up.” I said nothing more. The car finally pulled up in front of my apartment building. Adrian leaned back in the driver’s seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning to me. His voice was softer now. “Sera, Anna and I have known each other forever. She’s always been like one of the guys, a bit reckless and tactless sometimes. But we are honestly just friends. Don’t overthink it. And please, don’t do things like this just to make me jealous.” I turned to meet his gaze, a small smile playing on my lips. “I’m not overthinking anything. And I’m not jealous. I trust you. And you trust me, right? Leo and I… we’re just ‘sisters’.” His jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone rang again. It was Ethan. “Dude, you need to get over here. Anna’s losing it. You’re the only one who can handle her.” Adrian hesitated. I offered him a patient, understanding smile as I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open. “Go on,” I said. “She really needs you.” I knew he was still watching. As I reached the entrance of my building, I let my body go limp, collapsing to the pavement like a fallen leaf. The car door slammed. In seconds, Adrian was scooping me up and rushing me to the hospital. A night of admissions, tests, and worried bedside vigils followed. I complained of phantom pains, of being scared, of feeling dizzy. I kept him occupied until the sun came up, ensuring he never made it to Anna’s ten-year pact. The next morning, with a heart full of three parts guilt and four parts pitiable sweetness, I used Adrian’s phone to call Anna. “Anna,” I whispered weakly into the receiver. “It’s all my fault. I don’t know what happened, I just fainted. I feel so terrible for ruining your special night. Can you ever forgive me?” Anna was seething, but with Adrian right there, all she could do was slam the phone down. A moment later, her blog exploded. “Some ‘fiancées’ have all the tricks. Playing the frail victim one minute, then dragging guys up mountains to ‘see the stars’ the next. And making sure to post the location so everyone knows. Does she think we’re all blind?” “A ten-year pact? Ha. Apparently, it can’t compete with one night of ‘stargazing confessions.’ That’s men for you. The new girl comes along and suddenly your oldest ‘friend,’ the one who’s been there forever, means nothing.” “Whatever. Friends are for life, girls are just temporary. You can live without a limb, but you can always get a new shirt. I get it.” The post was accompanied by a photo of her sitting alone in the grandstands of a racetrack, a single, desolate figure next to two cans of beer, one of which was empty. I couldn’t help but laugh as I screenshotted everything. After being thwarted twice in a row, Anna was clearly on the verge of a complete breakdown. The day after tomorrow was our engagement party. I hoped she had a surprise for me. I was dying to see it. 4 On the day of the party, Anna was a vision in a stunning red dress, gliding through the guests with a glass of champagne, laughing and chatting with Adrian’s circle of friends. Eventually, she made her way over to me, holding two glasses of red wine, her smile blinding. “Sera, I know I’ve been a bit childish lately. This is for you, an apology. To you and Adrian. May you have a long and happy life together.” She was standing so close I could see the feverish excitement dancing in her eyes. When the wicked offer gifts, they are plotting something foul. I waved a hand dismissively, my expression apologetic. “Anna, I appreciate the thought, but I’ll have to pass on the wine. I’m not feeling very well today.” Her expression instantly hardened. She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Are you done playing the innocent little flower? Because I’m about to rip those petals right off.” I looked up at her, my face a mask of confused panic. “I don’t understand what you mean.” But Anna just smiled, turned, and walked away, leaving me with her cryptic threat hanging in the air. The ceremony was halfway through. Adrian and I were standing hand-in-hand, about to exchange rings. That’s when Anna made her move. “Wait!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the elegant music. “On this joyous occasion, I have a special gift for the bride-to-be!” A confused murmur rippled through the crowd. Anna clapped her hands twice, and the grand doors to the ballroom swung open. Four or five handsome men walked in. The moment I saw their faces, I froze. Anna seized on my flicker of stunned silence, her smile growing wider and more vicious. Adrian frowned, turning to me. “Do you know them?” Before I could answer, Anna spoke for me. “Of course she knows them! These are just a few of the many men she’s had in her life since she was a teenager.” “She jumps from one to the next, tossing them aside when she gets bored. She’s a seasoned player, pretending to be some innocent little lamb.” “Adrian, we’ve been friends for over twenty years! I couldn’t stand by and watch you be deceived like this!” The ballroom erupted in gasps and whispers. I felt Adrian’s arm go rigid beside me. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with shock and suspicion. Across the room, my parents’ faces were pale. Adrian’s family looked grim. I lifted my chin, my eyes quickly filling with tears that clung to my lashes, refusing to fall. My lip trembled. “How could you say such things? How could you try to ruin my engagement day like this? What do you possibly have to gain?” Seeing my desperate denial, Anna looked as though she’d just cornered her prey. She lifted her chin higher. “Ruin you? Seraphina, you really won’t confess until you’re staring at your own coffin! I have videos! Videos you filmed yourself during your little escapades! Should I play them right now? Let everyone here see just what a tramp you are in another man’s arms!” With that, Anna marched onto the stage and inserted a USB drive into the laptop connected to the large projector screens. I stumbled forward, grabbing her hand as it reached for the mouse. “Anna, don’t.” Her voice was shrill with excitement. “You’re scared now, aren’t you? Too late! I’m going to play it! I want Adrian, I want everyone, to see the real Seraphina Vance! You’re a liar!” The entire room held its breath, all eyes glued to the giant screen, waiting for the promised spectacle of my downfall.

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I only found out when I went to collect my husband’s retirement fund. His salary wasn’t the seven hundred dollars a month he’d claimed. It was nearly three thousand. He gave me seven hundred. The other two thousand, he’d been sending, like clockwork, on the first of every month, to a woman with the last name Miller. I laid the bank statements out on the table in front of him. “All these years, you lied to me. You said you only made seven hundred a month. Even the year our son had pneumonia, you said you couldn’t spare a single dime.” “In the end, it was my mother who sold the wild ginseng she needed for her own heart condition. She traded her life for our son’s.” I stared into his eyes. “This Ms. Miller, the one who’s been getting two thousand dollars from you every month, who is she?” His lips trembled. He was about to speak when our son, Ryan, burst out of his room and snatched the papers from the table. “Mom, Mia’s mom has had it tough all these years, raising a kid on her own. Don’t go causing trouble for her.” Mia’s mom. Lily Miller. In that single moment, I understood. For thirty years of marriage, my husband had been supporting his first love. And my son, it seemed, had found himself a new mother. 1 Faced with my silence, my husband, Mark, moved his lips as if to say something. Our son, Ryan, jumped in first. “Mom, I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” But I knew. The words that tumble out in a moment of panic are always the truth. For thirty years, Mark had placed seven hundred dollars in my hand on the first of every month, without fail. In the beginning, seven hundred dollars was a decent amount. We lived comfortably. But then our son grew up. Our parents grew old. The price of everything went up, except for the money he gave me. Life became a struggle. I wanted him to have a hot meal waiting when he came home late from “overtime.” I wanted our growing son to have proper nutrition. I wanted to set aside a little something for our aging parents. So, on top of my job and running the household, I took on part-time work. Was I tired? Of course, I was. But when I looked at my happy, thriving family, I told myself it was all worth it. Now, he was telling me his salary was almost three thousand a month, and for thirty years, three-quarters of it had gone to his first love. My decades of hardship suddenly felt like a cruel joke. Seeing me silent, Mark’s expression hardened. “Laura, I’ve explained everything. What more do you want?” “Besides, we’ve managed just fine all these years. Why do you have to dig up the past?” The confusion on his face was genuine, as if I were the one being unreasonable. A bitter laugh rose in my throat. Before we were married, he had looked me in the eyes just like this and promised me the world. Back then, when I worked late, he’d wait for me at the end of the street, a warm cup of coffee in his hands, worried I’d be hungry. Now, when I’m sick in bed, he just sends a text: “Drink plenty of water.” I’d felt the change, of course, but I’d always found ways to explain it away. But the bank statements didn’t lie. Each transaction was a testament to the truth. My life, for the past thirty years, had been a lie. And I didn’t want it anymore. “Mark,” I said, my voice steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” He stared at me, stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected this. But it was our son who reacted first, his brow furrowing in disapproval. “Mom! What are you doing? Dad and Mia’s mom… I mean, Ms. Miller… there’s nothing going on between them!” “You’re too old to be throwing a fit over something so small. Aren’t you embarrassed?” I looked at my son’s indignant, accusing face and felt a chill I’d never known before. My husband’s betrayal was one thing. This was so much worse. “That’s enough, Ryan. Say less.” Mark stopped him, his face shifting into a placating expression. He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. My own phone buzzed. “You’ve worked hard all these years, Laura. Take this thousand dollars.” His voice softened. “Go buy that dress you were looking at the other day. You deserve to treat yourself.” See? He remembered. He always remembered the little things, my likes and dislikes. But it was always just talk. This was the first time his supposed affection came with actual money. Mark seemed to think that a thousand dollars and a few soft words were enough to smooth everything over. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and, just as he had countless nights before, headed for the balcony. Ryan shot me a glare and retreated to his room. I was left alone in the large, empty living room. The lights were warm, the furniture familiar and comforting. But in that moment, it all felt suffocating. I went to our bedroom and called my best friend. She’s been a lawyer her whole life. She would know what to do. “I’m getting a divorce.” “Yes, he’s been cheating on me. For the last thirty years.” 2 Just as I hung up with my friend, Mark came back into the bedroom from the balcony. He went through his usual nightly routine, washing up before slipping into bed. In the soft lamplight, I noticed for the first time how young he looked for a man his age. His body was still trim, his hair dark and thick, the lines on his face shallow. Time had been kind to him. And me? My gray hairs were starting to outnumber the dark ones. My face was a roadmap of wrinkles, and my body had lost its shape from years of hard labor. Perhaps it wasn’t time that had been kind to him. It was me. It was only then that I remembered: I had seen Lily Miller before. She was on a local news program, featured as a “model of the modern independent woman.” On the screen, she was dressed in a chic, expensive-looking suit, her makeup flawless, her demeanor confident and articulate. I had pointed at the TV, a mix of admiration and wistfulness in my voice. “Look at her,” I’d said to Mark. “She’s so impressive. I wish I could be a successful, independent woman like that.” What was his reaction then? He had stared at the screen for a long moment before his eyes refocused on me. His voice was casual. “Those types always have a family fortune or a rich benefactor. We can’t compare ourselves to people like that. You take care of our home, and in my eyes, that’s the best thing in the world.” I’d been a little flustered by his sudden sweet talk, and my flicker of envy had been quickly extinguished. Looking back, I realized the expression on his face as he stared at the screen wasn’t just admiration. It was pride. Pride that he had a hand in creating the radiant woman on the television. And me? On my seven hundred dollars a month, buried under an endless mountain of chores and part-time jobs, I had become a frumpy, rundown housewife who knew nothing beyond the price of groceries. “What are you staring at?” Mark noticed my gaze and frowned. I knew this was a precursor to his anger. Normally, I would have immediately looked away or changed the subject to avoid a fight. But I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I didn’t answer, just looked back down at my phone. My friend had sent over some preliminary information about the division of assets in a divorce. The phone was so old the screen was blurry. My silence clearly infuriated him. He shot up in bed, snatched the phone from my hands, and threw it to the foot of the bed. “Laura! Are you ever going to let this go?” “We’ve been together for thirty years! I never thought you were the kind of woman who only cares about money! You’d throw away our family for a little bit of cash?” Even now, he was convinced that my anger was only about the money. I almost wished I was the materialistic woman he accused me of being. Maybe then, the past thirty years wouldn’t have been so hard. I looked him straight in the eye and said, enunciating every word, “Mark, we’re getting a divorce. I’m serious.” Hearing me bring it up again, he exploded. “A divorce? Where did you learn this nonsense? Are you trying to threaten me?” “Let me tell you, it won’t work! If we really get a divorce, what will people think of me? How will I face my colleagues, our friends, our family?” “Ryan is about to get married! Do you, his mother, really want to embarrass him in front of his future in-laws?” He was panicking, but every word was about his own pride, his own image, our son’s image. My feelings didn’t even register. A wave of grief and fury washed over me. I sat up straight, my voice rising to match his. “Mark, do you have any idea what I’ve done for this family over the past thirty years?” “When your father needed that hundred-thousand-dollar bypass surgery, I used every penny of the dowry my parents gave me, and I stayed up all night doing the books for three different companies to make up the rest.” “The year Ryan got into that expensive private high school, the tuition was fifty thousand dollars. I cashed out my own company pension to pay for it. I didn’t even leave myself a safety net.” “All these years, every major expense, every financial crisis… who was the one who worked herself to the bone to fill the gaps?” The bedroom door creaked open. The shouting must have drawn Ryan out. He stood in the doorway, his face a mask of undisguised irritation and disapproval. “Mom! Have you not made enough of a scene?” “So you’ve contributed to the family. Does that give you the right to blackmail Dad now?” “No wonder you can’t compare to Aunt Lily in any way. You deserve to be this miserable!” His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I looked at his face, so much like a younger version of Mark’s. This was the son I had carried for ten months. The grandson my mother had given her life for. When Ryan was seven, he came down with a severe case of pneumonia. I couldn’t get ahold of Mark. I borrowed from every friend and relative I had, but I was still two hundred dollars short for the surgery. Without telling me, my mother sold the precious wild ginseng she relied on to manage her heart condition. The baby came home from the hospital, healthy and well. But my mother’s condition worsened, and she passed away before I could even say goodbye. And now, it was clear that neither her sacrifice nor my own had been worth anything at all. 3 In the past, after every argument, they were the ones who would storm out. This time, I was the one who left. Lying on the hotel bed, I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. In my dreams, I was back in that terrible time. My son’s face, flushed with fever. The nurses, hounding me for payment. My husband, unreachable. My mother, wasting away in her sickbed. In the end, my son got better, and my mother was gone. My husband returned from his “business trip,” looking tired and full of remorse. He said he’d taken an emergency project out of town to earn extra money for the surgery, and the signal had been bad. I believed him. I even felt sorry for him. I thought we were a pair of star-crossed lovers, supporting each other through life’s cruel storms. I never imagined that my honest, hardworking husband, with his three-thousand-dollar monthly salary, would refuse to spend a penny on his dying son, but would happily give two-thirds of his income to enrich another woman’s life. For thirty years, everyone else had moved on. Only I remained trapped in that moment of unbearable loss. The nightmare was broken by the ringing of my phone. The caller ID read “Mother-in-law.” I stared at the screen for a few seconds before answering. “Laura, dear, I know you’re hurting. What Mark did… he was wrong.” “But you two have been through so much together. Thirty years of marriage, a grown son.” “At our age, sometimes it’s better to just… turn a blind eye. Forgive and forget. It’s better for everyone. You can keep the family together, can’t you?” I clutched the phone, my fingertips cold. “Mom, you’ve known about Lily Miller all this time, haven’t you?” The line went silent. After a few seconds, I couldn’t help but laugh. This was the woman who, from the day I married into the family, had held my hand and said, “From now on, you’re my own daughter.” The woman who, every time Mark and I fought, would scold him first and always take my side. She, too, was a silent accomplice in this long, elaborate deception. The phone screen suddenly went dark. It was an old phone. The battery was shot. Sleep was now impossible. I plugged the phone in and opened my banking app. Inside was the few thousand dollars I had managed to scrape together over the years, plus the thousand Mark had “graciously” given me yesterday. The next morning, I went to the mall and bought a new phone. I’d thought about getting one before, but I was intimidated by the new technology. I’d asked my son for help. He had rolled his eyes. “Mom, you’re old. As long as your phone can make calls and send texts, that’s all you need. Anything more is a waste of money. You wouldn’t know how to use it anyway.” Now, the text was crisp and clear. The videos didn’t lag. It only cost four hundred dollars. All the hardships I had endured, I realized, were truly not worth it.

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My roommate is sensitive, petty, and extremely possessive. When I saved a seat for another classmate, she cried, complaining about why I would save a seat for someone else and not her. In the cafeteria, the lunch lady gave me one more piece of meat than her. She reported the lady for negligence, causing the woman to lose her job. Even when my boyfriend wanted to come home with me for the holidays, she kept making things difficult. She claimed she had never been to a nice house and insisted on pitifully tagging along. Once we got there, she treated my parents like servants, making them wait on her hand and foot. She even asked my boyfriend to warm her bed. It all ended on my birthday. I treated my roommates to a hotpot dinner. Because I didn’t serve her food personally, she flipped the boiling pot. She disfigured my face. During the ensuing struggle, I fell. I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. I was back on the first day of freshman year, the day she walked into our dorm. 01 While we were eating, my roommate, Tina, suddenly threw her chopsticks on the floor. She buried her head in her hands and started wailing. “What is wrong with you now?” My boyfriend, Ken, couldn’t help but raise his voice. Tina pouted, her eyes red rimmed. She looked at me with pure grievance. “Lynn, why did you skip me when you were serving the food just now? I waited until the meal was almost over, and I didn’t get a single piece of tripe. Do you all look down on me that much?!” The more she spoke, the more victimized she acted. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. My grandparents couldn’t bear to see the younger generation cry. They quickly flagged the waiter. “Two more plates of tripe, please.” “Child, don’t cry,” my grandma soothed. “It was our oversight.” My parents were baffled. But having been tormented by her for the first three days of the holiday, they were somewhat used to it. They sighed, having no patience left to coax her. This scene happened at my birthday party. My family was happily eating hotpot and singing songs. My boyfriend had just cut the cake for me. The roommate who had insisted on following me home for the holiday ruined everything. She flipped the table. The spicy, boiling beef tallow splashed directly onto my face. I jumped up, screaming in pain. Through the agony, I realized everyone else was fine. The pot had been pushed specifically in my direction. I couldn’t speak. I just covered my face while my parents and grandparents frantically called for an ambulance. Ken couldn’t take it anymore. “Tina, are you crazy?! We treated you like family! It’s one thing to be a nuisance every day, but now you want to kill her?” Tina showed no remorse. She sat opposite us, arms crossed, staring coldly. “It’s not like I haven’t been burned by oil before. Relax, it won’t kill her!” She sneered. “Doesn’t she have a happy family and a perfect life? Why does she get to look down on me? Why didn’t she serve me food?” I finally snapped. The pain and the frustration exploded. “Get out! Get out of my house right now! From now on, we are strangers. I’m applying to change dorms the second school starts!” 02 Hearing that I no longer pitied her background, no longer sympathized with her poverty, and would no longer tolerate her… Tina’s expression turned evil. She rushed at me. Slap. She hit me hard across the face. My parents and Ken were downstairs dealing with the bill or waiting for the ambulance. No one was close enough to help. My grandparents tried to intervene, waving their frail hands to stop her. Tina screamed recklessly, “You said you would be good to me! You broke your word! You deserve this retribution!” I was stunned by the slap. My face, already blistered from the scald, throbbed with unbearable pain. My grandparents were over eighty years old. “Young lady, why are you hitting people?” they cried out, trying to pull her away. But how could two elderly people withstand the shove of a young woman used to farm work? One was pushed to the ground. The other clutched his heart, breathing rapidly. “Medicine… medicine…” I trembled with rage, tears mixing with the oil on my face. “Tina! You eat my food, wear my clothes, use my things, and now you hurt my family? You have no conscience! You deserve every beating your stepfather ever gave you!” Hearing me mention her abusive stepfather, her face twisted. She lost all reason. She reached out, her hands closing around my neck. I wasn’t as strong as her. She forced me back toward the stairwell. We struggled. I lost my footing. I fell down the stairs and died on the spot. … When I opened my eyes, Tina was dragging a woven plastic bag through the dorm door. She looked shy, cautious. I was making my bed on the lower bunk. She had dark skin and a small frame, but she carried a massive package. She whispered, “Classmate, I’m afraid of heights. Can I have the lower bunk?” Seeing I didn’t react immediately, she added, “If not, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.” Her voice faded like a dying mosquito. At that moment, I knew. I was reborn. I was back on the first day of freshman year. 03 In my previous life, I was too kind. I treated her too well. That’s why she took advantage, thinking she was entitled to everything I had. In this life? Absolutely not. I didn’t even turn my head. “Sorry, I’m afraid of heights too. Ask someone else.” She persisted, ramping up the pity act. “Classmate, I’m from a village. I’ve never lived in a tall building or taken an elevator. I get scared as soon as I’m high up. Please, I’m begging you.” Before I could speak, Gloria spoke up. Gloria had short hair, a sharp tongue, and slept on the opposite top bunk. She jumped down and landed lightly on the floor. “If you’re so precious, why live in a dorm? Go rent an apartment. You can have a living room and kitchen all to yourself.” Gloria was straightforward. In my past life, her lack of empathy almost caused Tina to jump out the window in a fit of depression. I was the one who pulled Tina back. I was the one who comforted her. Because of Tina, the other roommates isolated us. I stood by her. And she repaid me with murder. In this life, I decided to cling to Gloria. She would be my voice of reason. Before I could say anything, sobbing filled the room. Tina squatted on the floor, burying her face in her knees. She looked miserable. Just then, our fourth roommate, Vanessa, walked in. Vanessa was beautiful, wealthy, and had perfect grades. She usually kept to herself. In my last life, she didn’t fall out with Tina until Tina stole her mother’s vintage haute couture gown, ruined it, and tried to sell it online. That’s when Vanessa moved out. I looked at Vanessa. She was the rich queen bee I needed to help deal with Tina. I smiled at her. “Hey, why don’t you take this lower bunk? The door is drafty, and you look like you get cold easily.” Vanessa looked at me suspiciously, then at the crying girl on the floor. She was smart. She wouldn’t take sides until she knew the score. And honestly, she disdained getting involved in our drama. 04 Hearing that I would rather give the bunk to the princess-like Vanessa than to a poor villager like her, Tina snapped. She ran out of the room crying, acting as if she’d been bullied. When she returned, she brought our Resident Advisor (RA). The RA frowned at us. “How can you discriminate against a classmate? You’re college students. Tina is from a rural area, yes, but she hasn’t done anything to you. I expect you to get along.” Gloria crossed her arms. “Who bullied her? You need evidence for accusations.” “Is whatever she says the truth? If she says we killed someone, do we go to jail tomorrow?” The RA wasn’t expecting freshmen to be this tough. She softened her tone. “Look, you’re all roommates now. It’s fate. Take a step back and compromise.” Tina thought she had won. She nodded eagerly at the RA. “Yes, Senior Sister is right!” She turned her teary eyes to Vanessa. “Classmate, please. Can I have that bunk? I’m terrified of heights.” It was a classic moral kidnapping. Vanessa looked at Tina, then at the RA staring expectantly. Vanessa came from a wealthy family; she feared no authority. She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a stack of cash—two thousand yuan—and threw it at Tina’s feet. “Go see a doctor.” Tina’s face twisted in rage. “What do you mean?!” Gloria chimed in perfectly. “She means if you’re sick, go to the hospital. Don’t try your guilt trips on us. We’re not buying it.” I almost applauded. I decided right then: Gloria is my best friend in this life.

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