Category: English

My new housekeeper’s son is the charismatic male lead of this world. He accidentally “saved” my three villainous sisters, charming them into becoming his loyal attack dogs. They handed him every resource our family had on a silver platter. In their eyes, I was the jealous brother who couldn’t stand losing the spotlight, framing him at every turn. Eventually, my three sisters discarded me. My eldest sister, the cold-hearted CEO, froze all my bank accounts and kicked me out of the Vance estate. My second sister, the gentle doctor, secretly switched my heart medication, leaving me in constant, agonizing pain. My third sister, the A-list celebrity, hid my identity and encouraged her millions of fans to cyberbully me into oblivion. I died a miserable death, with no one to claim my body. When I opened my eyes, reborn into the past, I decided to give up. I would “lie flat”—do nothing, fight for nothing. But I never expected that this time, my sisters could hear my inner thoughts. 1 The last time I saw the four of them in my previous life, it was in a condemned apartment building. I sat in a wheelchair, wearing clothes stained with grease and filth. Caleb Thorne, however, was dressed in bespoke haute couture that he never could have afforded before. He was surrounded by my three sisters, the center of their universe. He looked down at me with a sneer. “For the sake of our past friendship, if you apologize to me today and call me ‘brother-in-law,’ I’ll forgive you. I’ll even let you back into the Vance mansion. What do you say?” Call him brother-in-law? He wasn’t worthy to shine my shoes. He was the reason I was disfigured and crippled. His shameless goal in marrying into the Vance family was to dismantle it from the inside out. But, of course, no one believed a word I said. Everyone thought I was just jealous of Caleb. That envy was the only reason I ended up like this. I gritted my teeth and spat on the floor. “You? Worthy? I’d rather die than call you family. One day, your ugly true colors will be exposed to the…” Before I could finish, a slap silenced me. The force was so strong I felt my teeth loosen. My ears rang. Through the dizziness, I looked up to see my eldest sister, Victoria, staring at me with icy indifference. She frowned, looking at me like I was something rotting on her shoe. “Atlas, if you can’t keep your mouth shut, I don’t mind tearing it off for you.” I clutched my swelling face. “Victoria…” She cut me off again. “Don’t call me that. From the day you framed Caleb, you ceased to be our brother.” Her words were like serrated knives plunging into my bleeding heart. The light in my eyes dimmed. I wanted to defend myself, but my throat was so dry I couldn’t make a sound. My heart began to spasm. I clutched my chest, gasping for air. “Meds… my meds…” Elena, my second sister, rarely smoked. But because of Caleb, she had picked up the habit. She walked two steps toward me and pressed the burning cigarette butt into the back of my hand. Ignoring my hoarse cry of pain, she pointed at my chest and mocked, “Atlas Vance, your congenital heart disease probably exists because your heart is black. I don’t see the need to treat it anymore.” The pain sent me tumbling out of the wheelchair, gasping for breath on the dirty floor. Sophie, my third sister, crouched down slowly. She looked at my emaciated frame—skin and bones—and furrowed her brow. “Why are you acting so aggrieved? Atlas, do you really think playing the victim will get you our forgiveness? You’re delusional.” “Besides,” she added darkly, “it looks like you haven’t learned your lesson yet.” I knew what she meant. Just because I cursed Caleb once, she allowed her fans to dox and harass me. Someone had even followed me home, pushed me out of my wheelchair, and filmed me crawling on the ground. Dead rats were constantly thrown at my door. The landlord, unable to deal with the harassment, evicted me. I ended up here, in a shack next to a dump with a door that wouldn’t lock. Without medication, even breathing became a torture. I lay on the ground like a dying fish, covered in wounds. My consciousness faded. I tried to recall a single happy memory from my life, but I couldn’t find one. My sisters ignored my outstretched hand and turned to leave. The last thing I heard was a muttered curse: “What a waste of space.” I opened my mouth, but I had no strength left to struggle. This was my second rebirth. I had tried everything—scheming, planning, fighting—but I couldn’t beat the “chosen one” aura. This world is a novel, and Caleb is the protagonist. His goal is to destroy the Vance family to pave the way for the woman he truly loves. My three sisters are the villains, destined to fall in love with him at first sight, be “redeemed,” and then willingly become his pawns. To save them, I died trying to expose him. In their eyes, I was just a jealous brat. No matter how many times I restart, Caleb always wins. I knew that when I opened my eyes, I would be back at the beginning. But this time, I’m tired. 2 When I opened my eyes, I was still shaking from the phantom pain of death. The filthy shack was replaced by a bright, warm dining room. Warm yellow light illuminated exquisite dishes on the table. A familiar voice sounded beside me, dripping with grievance. “Atlas, why aren’t you eating? Did I make something you don’t like?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your tastes changed. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it.” My pupils contracted. It was Caleb. At this point in the timeline, he had already become my “friend” and had “saved” my sisters a few times. Rumors were already circulating that he was the Vance family’s lucky charm. He wasn’t wearing servant’s clothes. He was wearing the designer gear I had gifted him, looking more like the young master of the house than I did. He bit his lower lip, looking fragile. “I asked the housekeeper, and she said you love seafood. Are you refusing to eat because I cooked it? I followed the recipe step by step…” The performance was Oscar-worthy. I remained silent. Caleb started to panic. “Atlas, why won’t you talk to me? Are… are you disgusted because I came from the slums? Do you think I’m dirty?” I opened my mouth, but only a rasp came out. I squeezed my throat, trying to force words. I was terrified that if I upset Caleb, my three sisters would use it as an excuse to torture me again. But I couldn’t speak. Victoria’s gaze landed on us. Her eyes were dark. “Atlas, is this how a Vance behaves? This is Caleb’s kindness. Even if you don’t want to eat it, you will sit there and finish it.” I lowered my eyes, laughing bitterly in my heart. These three were already blind to everything but him. [How could I dare despise him? After all, he’s going to be the master of this house soon. I’m just the cripple who gets kicked out to live in the slums. What right do I have?] [Strangers would think Caleb is your biological brother with the way you defend him. Oh, wait. Not a brother. A lover.] [Does anyone even remember I have a severe seafood allergy? Or does my life just not matter?] Suddenly, the dining room went dead silent. The three women, who had been smiling indulgently at Caleb, froze. Their expressions went cold. I forced the nauseating seafood down my throat, bite by bite, suppressing the urge to vomit. I flashed a weak smile at Caleb. Victoria’s face turned pitch black, as if someone had exposed her darkest secret. Seeing me finish the food quickly and turn to leave with a pale face, she reached out. “Atlas…” Elena glared at her to shut up, then turned to me with a gentle voice. “Atlas, are you feeling unwell today? Let me check you over, okay?” She was a doctor. In my past life, she was the one who prescribed my heart medication, and she was the one who stopped it. She had watched me suffer in agony, forgetting I was once the little brother she doted on. I stood on the stairs, looking back. My expression was hidden in the shadows. [It’s just an allergy. It won’t kill me immediately.] [I’m really tired. Just stop torturing me. I’ll agree to whatever you want.] Elena froze, her face draining of color. “I… I didn’t mean to forget your allergy.” Didn’t mean to. What a clumsy, laughable excuse. I couldn’t be bothered to pretend with them anymore. I turned and walked away without looking back. 3 I knew the moment Caleb showed up, I would lose. No matter what I did, I would never be the chosen one. So, I quit. A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. Caleb was back, bringing his signature pitiful act. He knocked rhythmically, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Atlas, what’s wrong? Did I make you unhappy? I apologize, please don’t ignore me, okay?” “Aren’t we best friends?” While his mouth spouted grievances, a different, mechanical voice echoed in my ears. [System, what is wrong with Atlas today? He’s acting weird. The script didn’t say he’d be this passive. The sisters think I bullied him, and my affection score dropped by ten points!] Then, a robotic reply: [Host, please relax. I have scanned the targets. Their affection for you is still above 50. The drop is within manageable limits.] I felt a chill run down my spine. Even in the warm room, I started to shiver. Those voices again. In my past life, when Caleb orchestrated the car accident that put me in a coma, I heard him talking to this mechanical voice. They talked about destroying the Vance family, using my sisters as stepping stones. When I woke up, I went straight to Victoria. But no matter what I said, all I got was a look of disgust. Caleb had walked out of her private study, acting like a saint. “Victoria, Atlas is just confused. It’s okay. I forgive him.” Victoria had scolded me. “Atlas, look at you! You tried to kill Caleb, and he still cared for you while you were in a coma!” I barely remember what happened after. I just remember being kicked out into the rain. Victoria looked down at me from the porch. “Since you can’t tolerate Caleb, the Vance family won’t tolerate you. Without the title of the Young Master, you are nothing.” 4 The memory made my body tremble. [What act is he putting on now?] I knew Caleb wasn’t alone outside the door. [Doesn’t matter whose affection he’s farming. It has nothing to do with me. I’m leaving this family anyway.] I took a deep breath and opened the door. Caleb’s hand was frozen in mid-knock. He tried to grab my hand, but I sidestepped him. “Atlas…” He dragged out my name, his eyes darting to Sophie, who stood behind him. “Tell me what’s wrong. Don’t give me the silent treatment.” Sophie stood silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, it was to defend Caleb. She looked at me with deep, fake concern. “Atlas, I heard from Victoria and Elena. Is there a misunderstanding? Aren’t you two best friends? Do you know how much Caleb cried because you ignored him?” She sighed, acting like the benevolent sister. “I know a very famous psychiatrist. If you don’t want to talk to your other sisters, talk to me. I’ll take you there tomorrow, okay?” She didn’t understand anything, but she was ready to institutionalize me. [Right. In your eyes, if I don’t like Caleb, I must be mentally ill. When you let your fans destroy my life, why didn’t you worry about my mental health then? Or are you just trying to lock me up in a psych ward to vent Caleb’s anger?] Sophie froze. Her expression twisted in horror. She looked at Caleb, then at me, and finally down at her own hands in disbelief. “Atlas,” she stammered. “Did… did I do something wrong?” “Please don’t hate me.” I shook my head warily and slammed the door shut. Through the wood, I heard a thud and Caleb’s yelp. “Sophie!” The System screamed: [Warning! Sophie Vance affection -10. Current level below 50. Host must recover points immediately!] “Don’t call me that,” Sophie’s voice sounded dark. “I’m not as blind as the other two. You better give me an explanation, or I won’t mind…” I couldn’t hear the rest as they walked away. I didn’t care about Sophie’s sudden change. If they were defending him this hard now, the inevitable betrayal was just a matter of time. Nothing mattered more than staying alive.

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One drunken night, things got messy between me and my stepbrother. I woke up the next morning and saw text floating in the air, like a livestream chat. [One shot, one kill. Is this the night she gets pregnant?] [Yep. She gets pregnant, gets dumped immediately, has a painful birth, and then loses the baby.] [She has a mental breakdown looking for the kid, crashes the male and female leads’ engagement party, and cries a bucket of tears…] I froze. My stepbrother, Julian, usually hated my guts. Terrified of the consequences, I scrambled out of bed and fled the country. Three years later, I only dared to return for a business marriage arranged by my family. But at my engagement party, a toddler who looked exactly like me stumbled in. The floating text appeared again. [Sigh, the heroine is getting engaged to the ‘male lead’.] [Poor stepbrother. As the yandere villain, he humbled himself to give birth to the heroine’s child, just hoping she’d look at him once.] [Mermen have high drives. He rubbed the only dress he stole from her until it turned into tassels, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to lock her in his panic room.] Wait. What? The one who got pregnant… was my stepbrother? 1 From the day my mom married into the Sterling family, Julian Sterling never gave me a pleasant look. It was safe to say that even if every other woman on earth disappeared, he wouldn’t spare me a glance. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. One drunken night, we ended up tangling in the sheets until dawn. When I opened my eyes and saw Julian’s flawless, icy face, my soul nearly left my body. Something was wrong. I looked again. He shifted, pulling me tighter into his arms, eyes still closed, his voice thick with sleep and laziness. “Babe, are you sure you want to keep moving?” I felt a scorching heat against my leg. I went rigid. His voice was raspy as he tightened his grip. “Be good. Sleep a little longer.” I was screwed. Literally and figuratively. 2 Julian was arrogant, entitled, and hated me to the bone. He also had a fiancée. His life was perfect. I couldn’t afford the consequences of ruining it. Just as I was panicking, the text floated across the air. [One shot, one kill. Is this the night she gets pregnant?] [Yep. She gets pregnant, gets dumped immediately, has a painful birth, and then loses the baby.] [She has a mental breakdown looking for the kid, crashes the male and female leads’ engagement party, and cries a bucket of tears…] Me? Pregnant? And he’s the “male lead” of this story? God help me. I craned my neck to look around. I didn’t see any wrappers. No wonder my stepfather was always talking about wanting grandkids at the dinner table. Julian and his fiancée must have been trying. So he didn’t use protection last night. And we did it… so many times. What do I do? Pregnant with my enemy’s child. Abandoned. Painful birth. Screw that. I don’t care about some magical floating text. I make my own destiny! Julian seemed to be sleeping deeply, completely relaxed. He didn’t notice a thing. I slipped away silently. I packed my bags in record time and fled the country. 3 Good news: In three years abroad, I didn’t get pregnant, and I didn’t have a kid. Bad news: My mom arranged a marriage for me. Get the marriage license, and I get ten million dollars. Refuse, and she cuts off my funds and bans me from returning. I chatted with my fiancé online for a while. We met a few times in Europe. His name was Sebastian. He was decent-looking, a gentleman, and seemed very interested in me. We flew back to the States to hold the engagement ceremony. The venue was pure white, with balloons floating everywhere. “Whose kid is that?” someone shouted. “Why does he look exactly like Sophie?” I’m Sophie. I was about to ask who was spreading rumors when I looked down. A beautiful little boy with short legs was running toward me. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror. Smack. He hugged my leg. “Mama, hi.” The kid blinked his big, watery eyes. Slander! Pure slander! I didn’t give birth! But obviously, he looked too much like me. The elders’ faces turned black as coal. They all assumed I had been wilding out abroad. Then, I saw the text again. 4 [Sigh, the heroine is getting engaged to the ‘male lead’.] [Poor stepbrother. As the yandere villain, he humbled himself to give birth to the heroine’s child, just hoping she’d look at him once.] [He rubbed the only dress he stole from her until it turned into tassels, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to lock her in his panic room.] Huh? The one who got pregnant was my stepbrother? But Julian is a man. Is this a side effect of reading too many fantasy novels? While I was spiraling, the elders were arguing. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared on the lawn. He moved like the wind, though his steps were slightly unsteady. He took the small bundle from my arms. The kid knew how to submit. He nuzzled obediently into the man’s neck. “Papa, I’m sorry I made you worry.” That “Papa” was like a bomb going off in the venue. Julian held him, apologizing to everyone. “Yes, he’s my son.” I was studying the kid’s features. Julian stood quietly, his profile sharp, exuding a cold, distant aura. He glanced at me sideways, eyes frosty. He lowered his voice. “Don’t think too much. He’s not yours.” I smiled awkwardly. I didn’t say he was. The engagement ceremony continued. Julian picked a seat. A tall man with a dark face, holding a small child. For some reason, he looked like a jilted wife.

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My fifth year in Los Angeles, and a journal found by a stranger went viral. “I need to know who wrote this.” “She’s a warrior who fought for love.” I was about to scroll past, completely uninterested, when a flash of familiar handwriting caught my eye. My thumb froze. “My sponsor’s fiancé is gorgeous. He’s exactly my type. Why should she have him?” “All I did was make some AI deepfakes of her and let the whole school see. It was enough to get her expelled.” “She got depressed, but I told everyone she was a sex addict. Her fiancé believed every word I said.” “With a little effort, I ‘healed’ him and made him fall in love with me. We’re so happy now.” “And her? She’s probably dead.” The handwriting, the tone—it was all the same. As bright and vicious as its owner. … The comments section was a storm of opinions. “Such a brave girl. If only I’d had that kind of courage back then…” “We need more entries!” The original poster quickly obliged. “And she had the nerve to ask me why?” “She only gave me five hundred dollars a month. I had to scrape by… She deserved everything she got.” “She planted the tree, and I’m the one enjoying the shade.” “He’s finally made it big, and he’s so good to me.” “He told me I’m so much more thoughtful and understanding than she ever was. He proposed.” “He is the Oscar-winning actor, Caleb Thorne.” The final post even included a blurry, intimate photo of two shadows tangled together. It was suggestive, tantalizing, and the internet ignited. Users swarmed Caleb Thorne’s social media, tagging him relentlessly. “Caleb, your girl went through hell for your love story.” “This is so moving. You better treat her right.” “My heart breaks for her. She suffered so much in silence. What a strong woman.” A few dissenting voices questioning the narrative were instantly drowned out by a tidal wave of shippers. A humorless smile twisted my lips. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, my sleeve sliding down just enough to cover the network of scars crisscrossing my wrist. The Los Angeles winter had a chill that seeped into your bones. Snowflakes drifted down from a grey sky, and the white puff of my breath vanished in the cold. It had been a winter just like this one. Even bundled in layers of down jackets like a bear, I couldn’t escape the piercing glares, the whispered insults, the contempt. Slut. No matter how many times I explained that I was with Caleb that night, that I hadn’t done anything wrong, the photos were irrefutable proof. When I found him, my voice trembled as I begged him to at least tell them the truth, to clear my name. He just frowned, his brow furrowed with concern. He was on the brink of stardom, he said. He couldn’t go public with our relationship yet. “Lia, you understand, right? You wouldn’t want to ruin my career, would you?” Nina came up from behind, wrapping me in a tight, sympathetic hug, telling me to just be patient. So I went back. And I waited. What I got was a drunkard lurking outside my dorm. He tore at my clothes, a leering grin on his face as he pinned me down. I fought, I screamed, but it was useless. When he was finished, he left me lying there like a discarded rag. As the tears finally tracked from the corners of my eyes, my first thought was, I’m dirty now. Will Caleb still want me? I reported it. I filed a complaint. But the university administration buried it, their annoyance barely concealed. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” one of them said, adding that the school’s reputation couldn’t be tarnished. They informed me my spot in the graduate program had been rescinded. The person who took my place was Nina. The scholarship student I had been sponsoring for years. A set of fake photos, born from nothing, had completely shattered my life. My phone rang, pulling me from the memory. It was my therapist. He was worried the journal posts would trigger my suicidal ideations again. I had tried to end it several times before. The worst attempt had me in the emergency room for ten hours, my body almost completely drained of blood. Only after I assured him, again and again, that I was past all that did he hang up. The post was still gaining traction. I couldn’t help but look at my phone again. Spurred on by his fans, Caleb had finally responded. He’d replied to the top comment. “Can anyone help me find her? There’s a substantial reward.” “Her name is Lia Vance.” My name was out. The internet sleuths dug in. It didn’t take them long to unearth everything. That I had been the university’s golden girl, a brilliant honors student with dual degrees in law and linguistics—the untouchable, ethereal dream girl. And, of course, the video. The crystal-clear, 4K, uncensored video of the assault. For a time, it was the thumbnail on every major adult website. Innocent Beauty or Insatiable Vixen? The fact that it was outdoors only added to the sordid appeal. But even that wasn’t what broke me. The thing that finally shattered my sanity was discovering that while I was facing the world alone, waiting for the salvation they had promised, they were already wrapped in each other’s arms. One day, Caleb, who had been ghosting me for weeks, suddenly called. I answered, my heart leaping with joy. But he was just calling for money. He’d lost a role, he said, and needed cash to grease some wheels. Could I help him out, just like before? I bit my lip, but I agreed. He told me to wire it to his account as usual. But some impulse made me withdraw a duffel bag full of cash instead. I just wanted to see him. I didn’t expect to find them outside his apartment, clinging to each other. Nina’s face was flushed, her voice a seductive purr. “Caleb, I got into the grad program. I want a reward. Tonight… I want to give you all of me.” His breathing was heavy, laced with an urgent desire. “I already hit up Lia for the money. You can have any gift you want.” One of them was the man I had grown up with, my love, who had sworn he would cherish me for a lifetime. The other was the scholarship student from a dirt-poor town I had supported for years, who had once knelt before me, thanking me for not giving up on her, promising she would repay my kindness. And it was these two people who, as I teetered on the edge of the abyss, embraced each other and gave me the final push. Tears streamed down my face. When they called me a slut, I didn’t break. When the university turned its back on me after the assault, I didn’t break. But in that moment, I shattered. I burst through the door, screaming, clawing, fighting. But I didn’t even manage to touch a strand of Nina’s hair before Caleb slammed me to the ground. The bag of cash burst open, bills fluttering down over my face like a silent, stinging slap. His brow was furrowed, his voice tight with the anger of being interrupted. “Lia, can’t you be reasonable for once? You brought cash on purpose? Who are you trying to humiliate?” I just stared, stunned, my lips trembling. “Don’t you… have anything to say to me?” He took in my disheveled state, the trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. He pursed his lips, a flicker of regret in his eyes that vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I…” Suddenly, Nina rushed over, crying, trying to help me up. “I’m so sorry, Lia.” “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but Caleb… he’s just so dazzling. I couldn’t help myself…” Her eyes swam with tears, a picture of perfect remorse. It made my stomach turn. I raised my hand to strike her. But Caleb’s hand struck first. The force of the slap rocked my head. He seemed stunned by his own action, but he pressed his lips into a thin line and finished his sentence. “Lia, get a hold of yourself.” “And don’t think that just because you give her a few hundred dollars a month, Nina owes you anything.” “She’s tougher than you, she works harder than you, and she deserves the best.” My cheek burned, his words of defense and accusation ringing in my ears. For a second, I was dizzy, remembering a time long ago when he had defended me just as fiercely, shielding me behind him. A quiet wave of grief and rage washed over me. And I laughed. Tears streamed from my eyes as the laughter grew louder, more hysterical. How pathetic. How utterly tragic. “You’re insane…” he muttered, pulling the weeping, fragile Nina into his arms and leaving. He left me there. I sat on the floor from day to night, and from night until the dawn broke. When I finally left, a mob of reporters was waiting outside, their cameras flashing like daggers. “Ms. Vance, is it true you’ve been sleeping around and are now trying to break up a happy couple?” They had twisted the story. Now I was the other woman. But we had always kept our love a secret for the sake of his career. There was no proof. I had no defense. Someone in the crowd spat at me. “Just a cheap bitch anyone can have. Stop the act.” I covered my face and ran, stumbling away, but the questions and the cameras followed me, a relentless nightmare that chased me all the way back to my dorm and refused to leave. I was expelled for damaging the university’s reputation. On that very same day, the internet broke. Caleb Thorne won a major international award, instantly becoming an A-list actor. He announced his relationship that same evening. He rented out an entire garden of Damascus roses and had a candlelight dinner with Nina. The whole world celebrated. He was a real man, they said, for owning his relationship at the peak of his fame. And I, the homewrecker, was dragged out and crucified by the public all over again. A crazed fan threw red paint on my front door. Then she came back with a knife. I was in the hospital, recovering from the stabbing, when his interview came on the TV. “We hear that your girlfriend’s former sponsor is still relentlessly pursuing you.” He smiled and kissed Nina’s forehead. “Lia did help Nina in the past, and I intend to repay every cent of that support, with interest.” “But I also hope she can find it in her heart to leave Nina in peace.” Repay me? Could he ever repay me? A cold sneer formed on my lips. My dad and I had always been on our own, but a city development project had bought out our land. We got a check for three million dollars. That money was mine to manage. My father was a simple, hardworking man who kept his blue-collar job, earning a modest salary. Now, there was barely fifty thousand left in the account. All these years, it had all gone to Caleb, funding his resources, greasing palms in Hollywood. How else could a nobody with no connections have made a name for himself in that shark tank? Even sponsoring Nina… it was because of him. We were in a poor, rural area, scouting for inspiration for one of his roles, when we met her. She’d dropped out of school to work, her hands covered in chilblains. He’d said, “She’s so pitiful.” And just like that, I began years of sponsorship, sending her five hundred dollars a month. She had been so grateful, calling me her savior. I was in the hospital for three months. My father came to see me. The quiet, stoic man seemed to have aged decades overnight. While I slept, he would stand at the end of the hallway, a carpet of cigarette butts at his feet. I decided I had to pull myself together. I went back to my hometown with my father. But the drunk who had attacked me found me. He showed up at our door like a low-life gangster, holding a half-empty bag of fertilizer. “This is the dowry,” he announced. “I’m here to marry you.” My father was shaking with rage. I called the police. I pressed charges. But the man was let go with a slap on the wrist. He came back, bolder than ever, showing the video of my assault to all our neighbors. I became a pariah, a plague. I couldn’t understand why he was so obsessed with tormenting me. Until one day, I overheard him on the phone outside. “Don’t you worry, Nina. Your uncle will take care of that little slut for you…” “Just… my drinking’s been getting a little bad lately…”

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The male lead finally ended up with his first love, the “white moonlight,” while my mom’s body was barely cold in her grave. Upon hearing of my mother’s death, the vicious villain swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, slashed his wrist, and calmly lay down in a bathtub. Just as he was silently feeling his life slip away, I, carrying my little backpack, knocked on his door. “Daddy, I finally found you!” 1 Julian Thorne’s face was deathly pale, and he was alarmingly thin. He stared at me, brows furrowing. “Whose kid are you?” I blinked. “My name is Kiki. My mom is Seraphina. Are you Mr. Julian Thorne?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “I am.” My eyes turned red, and I rushed into his arms, sobbing. “Daddy, I finally found you!” Julian’s mouth twitched. It took him several attempts to pry me off. “Sorry, I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know your mother.” His shirt was already soaked with my tears. He glanced at it with disdain. I pouted, heartbroken. “Daddy, why don’t you want to acknowledge me?” Julian: “…” He shut the door. “Go home. I don’t have time to play games.” Two minutes later, I rang the doorbell again. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! When Julian opened the door again, he was dripping wet. His wrist was hastily bandaged, and he looked terrible. Seeing it was me again, he snapped, “What now?” I stood on my tiptoes, peering inside, twisting my fingers nervously. “Daddy, can I come in and eat something? I’m so hungry.” Julian gritted his teeth. “…How many times do I have to say it? I am not your father.” I looked innocent. “But Mom said you are.” “I don’t know your mom.” “Then how did she have me with you?” Julian closed his eyes, turning back into the house. Just as I was about to follow, he grabbed some bread and milk from the fridge, shoved them into my arms, and said ominously, “Don’t let me hear you ring that bell again.” Slam! The door shut. I stood there blankly for a while. Sitting on the porch steps, I looked at the bread in my hand and slowly stuffed it into my mouth. It was dry, so I gulped down some milk. The wind was chilly, making me shrink into my collar. So cold. And I needed to pee. Helpless, I stood before the door again. He said not to ring the bell, so I knocked. Knock, knock, knock! Knock, knock, knock! I knocked for so long that the neighbor across the street peeked out. Julian couldn’t take it anymore and opened the door. I sneezed, eyes watery. “Daddy, I’m sorry, but I can’t hold it. I need to pee.” The beautiful neighbor lady came out, covering her mouth in surprise. “Mr. Thorne, is this your daughter? I’ve never seen her before.” Julian’s face went completely black. Seeing me shivering in the cold wind, he took a deep breath and stepped aside. “Come in.” 2 Before I entered the bathroom, Julian said, “Wait.” He closed the door, and I heard the bathtub draining. “Okay, go ahead.” After I finished, I noticed faint bloodstains on the edge of the tub and a knife on the floor. When I came out, I was worried. “Daddy, are you hurt?” Julian’s lips tightened. “No.” “That’s good.” I sighed in relief and cheered up. “Daddy, your house is huge.” “As big and pretty as Daddy Liam’s house.” “Mom said you were amazing, even more amazing than Daddy Liam. She didn’t lie.” Julian asked, “You have another dad?” I nodded. “Mom was with Daddy Liam, but he was mean to her. After Mom got sick and died, he married another lady.” “Your mom passed away?” “Mm-hm.” Mentioning Mom, I wiped my eyes sadly. Julian frowned. “What’s your Daddy Liam’s name?” “Liam Carter.” He froze. “And your mom?” “Seraphina.” “Do you have a photo?” Right! I pulled Mom’s only photo from my backpack and handed it to him. Julian stared at the photo, his gaze sharpening instantly. His expression was complex, as if lost in memories. Though he tried to suppress his emotions, his hand holding the frame trembled slightly. After a long while, he curled his lip, tone mocking. “Your mom is Seraphina Vance?” Mom once said her real name was Seraphina. Seraphina Vance was the name she got after coming to this world. Only Daddy and I knew this. But it seemed Daddy didn’t know yet. So I nodded. “Yes.” Julian squatted down, scanning my face, as if looking for traces of himself. “How old… are you?” His voice was hoarse. I answered softly, “Six.” The hope in his eyes vanished instantly. He stood up, voice self-mocking. “It wasn’t enough for her to lie to me; she sent you to lie to me too?” 3 What is Daddy saying? I was stunned. “I didn’t…” Julian slammed the photo frame onto the table, his tone cold again. “Go back to the Carter family. You can’t be my child, and I’m not your father.” “But Mom said you are my father.” “Impossible.” He closed his eyes. “I broke up with your mother eight years ago. You’re only six. You can only be Liam Carter’s daughter.” I counted on my fingers for a long time and realized he seemed right. Am I really Liam Carter’s daughter? But Mom wouldn’t lie to me. There must be a misunderstanding! “Daddy, we can do a DNA test! I really am your daughter!” I plucked a hair from my head, wincing, and looked at him with expectation and nervousness. Julian looked at me, brows furrowed. “Achoo!” I sneezed again. Julian looked at the dark night outside, then at thin, frail me. “You can stay, but only for tonight. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the police take you home.” Yay! Daddy isn’t chasing me away. Julian went upstairs to prepare a room for me. I trotted behind him. “Daddy, what kind of person was Mom to you?” Julian sneered. “Heartless, greedy, lustful, fake.” Four words, I only understood the middle two. “Daddy, was Mom a pervert?” “…Kids shouldn’t ask so much.” I slowed down, feeling sad. I knew since I was little that Mom was the “vicious female antagonist.” Because she was the villainess, no one liked her. Mom said in her original world, her name was Seraphina, and she had brain cancer. Before she died, a System approached her, asking if she wanted to transmigrate into a book as the villainess. If she successfully made the male lead fall in love with her, she would get a healthy body. Mom agreed. She became Seraphina Vance. The lost true heiress of the Vance family, and Liam Carter’s real fiancée. Claire Vance was her sister, the “group favorite” heroine of this story. Raised with love, the parents couldn’t bear to send Claire back to poverty, so she stayed. Mom didn’t know what she did wrong. But if Claire was unhappy, it was Mom’s fault. Everyone looked at her with condemnation and disdain. Though related by blood, Mom was thin, unpolished, lacking the grace of a wealthy lady. Her parents favored the heroine. Liam Carter hated Mom too. After reuniting with the Vance family, it seemed only Grandpa truly welcomed her. Mom was an orphan in her original world and craved family love. Whether it was her adoptive parents before or the Vance parents now, she cherished them all. Even though she tried her best to please everyone, the plot’s force was immovable. Mom had no choice. If she didn’t win Liam over, she would die. Later, the Carter Corporation faced a financial crisis. Liam chose to break up with Claire then. Claire cried and went abroad to heal under the protection of the devoted second male lead. At that time, Mom’s company, ClearSky Tech, was booming, nearing Series B funding, but she sold it cheaply. She used that money and Grandpa’s inheritance to buy the position of Liam’s wife. Although Liam was forced to marry her, his heart remained with Claire. He partied every night, indulging in women who resembled Claire. But the one who looked most like her was Mom. Liam often kissed Mom with malice, calling out Claire’s name. He even brought women home to their marital bed. It seemed only by seeing Mom suffer could his hatred find an outlet. Even when I was born, he never cared. Mom’s reaction to this was: “Let whoever wants the rotten cucumber have it.” Although I didn’t understand, I admired Mom’s attitude. On my sixth birthday, the System announced time was up. The male lead still didn’t love Mom. Mission failed. The punishment was erasure. Simultaneously, the hospital results came back: terminal brain cancer. The System gave Mom three days. I still remember Mom’s expression: confusion, loss, pain. And the deep sorrow and reluctance when she looked at me. She didn’t beg Liam anymore. She decided to find Daddy. She asked to meet Daddy many times, but he refused. Her messages sank into the ocean without a ripple. On the last day. She waited downstairs at his company building for a long time, until the light faded inch by inch, and her life came to an end. He never showed up. 3 “Mom wasn’t that kind of woman.” I clenched my fists, looking seriously at Julian’s face. “Mom loved Daddy very much. Mom never forgot Daddy.” Julian paused, his smile growing more mocking. “Did she teach you to say that?” I shook my head. “No…” “No one knows Seraphina Vance better than I do.” His expression was almost cold. “Except for Liam Carter, she never truly loved anyone.” My face turned red holding it in. I couldn’t say Mom was a “strategy player” who was with Daddy Liam just to survive. How could I make Daddy believe Mom truly loved him? With a heavy heart, I climbed into bed. Julian tucked me in. “I’m right next door. Knock if you need anything, okay?” “Okay.” Blood was seeping through the bandage on his wrist. The wound hadn’t healed. Is Daddy hurt? I worried. Ten minutes later, I stood at the master bedroom door. Knock, knock, knock. Julian opened the door, eyes red, face tense. “What is it?” “Daddy, can I sleep with you?” “No.” I clasped my hands together, pleading. “Please, you know I left my mom since I was little…” “…Come in.” He made a pallet on the floor, letting me sleep in the bed alone. To prevent me from falling, he left a nightlight on. “Daddy, aren’t you sleeping with me?” “Girls grow up and avoid their fathers.” I sat up in surprise. “You admit you’re my dad?” Julian closed his eyes, not looking at me. “Strange men are even more forbidden.” I lay back down disappointed, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a photo frame face down on the nightstand. It was Mom’s photo. “Daddy, you miss Mom too, don’t you?” Julian paused, answering stiffly. “…No.” Really? Then why, after Mom died, did you lose all will to live? 4 The next morning after breakfast, Julian wanted to take me to the police station. I hugged his leg, wailing. “Daddy, I don’t want to go! I can’t leave Daddy…” The beautiful neighbor lady happened to come out. Seeing this, she ran over, hugging me distressedly. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” I cried breathlessly. “Da… Daddy wants to send… me to the police station…” The neighbor lady was indignant. “Mr. Thorne, you can’t scare a child like that. It’ll cause trauma.” “Daddy, Daddy…” Seeing me convulsing with sobs, the neighbor lady held me, patting my back. “Don’t cry, baby. Auntie is here. I won’t let your dad send you away.” Julian: “…” He tried to explain. “Mr. Thorne, your daughter looks so much like you.” The neighbor lady pinched my cheek, sighing. “Eyes and nose are identical. No wonder she’s so pretty, inheriting the best traits from both parents?” Julian frowned. He looked at me, a moment of daze in his eyes. He didn’t make me leave. Through the slightly open study door, I heard him talking to a friend. “Greg, I need you to do a paternity test for me.” “Huh? Since when do you have a kid? Who gave birth to it?” “Seraphina Vance.” “Eh? Her?” The friend sighed. “How did you get tangled up with her again? She turned her back on you so fast back then, used you and tossed you, and now a kid pops up?” “Is hair with follicles okay?” “Yes, but Julian, don’t get your hopes up. Seraphina has been married for seven or eight years, her kid is probably big now. She was so devoted to Liam Carter, why would she have your kid?” “Seraphina is dead.” “What? Dead?” The other side sounded shocked, silent for a long time before speaking. “Okay, send the sample over. I’ll expedite it. Results in six hours max.” When Julian came out of the study, the neighbor lady was feeding me cherry tomatoes. I shook my head. “Sorry Auntie, I can’t eat tomatoes. I get itchy all over and get bumps.” “Is that so?” She looked regretful. Seeing Julian, she smiled. “Mr. Thorne, want to try? My mom picked them from our garden this morning, very fresh.” Julian looked complicated. “I’m allergic to tomatoes too.” He squatted in front of me, touching my face, eyes unreadable. “Are you… really my daughter?”

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I got a call from the police station out of the blue, asking if I had bought a latte last month and accidentally dropped it. I admitted I had. The officer said I was in trouble and needed to come down to the station. I thought, It’s just a latte. How much trouble could I be in? When I arrived, the officer looked at me sternly. “Miss, last month, someone slipped on the latte you dropped and suffered severe injuries. They were rushed to the ICU.” I was stunned. The officer led me into a mediation room. Inside sat a young woman, her arm in a cast, gauze wrapped around the back of her head, crying her eyes out. While my brain was still rebooting, the officer turned on a TV and showed us the security footage. The video showed the paper bag holding my latte tearing, the cup hitting the floor, and me walking away looking upset about my ruined drink. About ten minutes later, this young woman walked by. Anyone who’s been to a mall knows how distracting the displays are. No one looks at the floor. She stepped right into the puddle, slipped, and slammed the back of her head and arm onto the hard tile. The officer handed me the medical report. “Her right arm is broken, and she fractured her skull. They had to perform a craniotomy to remove bone fragments from her brain. Frankly, you’re lucky she survived, or you’d be in a holding cell for manslaughter right now.” I stared at the woman. She was pretty, but the officer’s words were clear: her life was ruined. Part of her skull was gone, replaced by a metal plate. Hair would never grow there again. She sobbed hysterically. A deep sense of guilt and self-blame began to consume me. I just dropped a latte, but I destroyed a beautiful woman’s life. “The victim is asking for $700,000 in compensation,” the officer said. “We’re just mediating. If this fails, she’ll sue you in court.” $700,000. I couldn’t save $700,000 in a lifetime. My entire savings amounted to $30,000. That was money I scraped together for a used Honda Civic so I wouldn’t have to brave the rain on my commute. But before my dream could come true, a $700,000 mountain crashed down on my head. 1 The officer advised me to settle privately. He said he’d seen this before, and I would definitely lose in court. “Why should I pay?” I whispered. “Doesn’t the mall have a duty to keep customers safe?” “But customers don’t have the right to spill drinks and walk away without cleaning it up,” the officer countered. “The mall shares some liability, but you bear the primary responsibility.” “But I told the janitor!” I protested. The officer paused. “You notified the cleaning staff?” “Yes,” I insisted. Immediately after dropping the latte, I told a janitor. I remembered that day clearly because I was already having a bad day. The latte splashed on my new dress. I rushed to the restroom to clean up and saw a cleaning lady there. I told her about the spill. The officers exchanged glances and told me to wait while they contacted the mall. They called the mall management to check the schedule and identify the cleaning lady on duty that day. They asked her to come in for questioning. The mall manager arrived quickly. He was a man in a suit named Mr. King. Behind him stood a timid-looking older woman. I recognized her immediately—she was the one I spoke to. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you need to be honest,” the officer said to the cleaning lady. “Did this young lady tell you she dropped a latte and ask you to clean it up?” I relaxed, feeling vindicated. But just as I let out a breath, Mr. King turned to the cleaning lady. “Think carefully. If she told you, the mall is fully liable, and she walks free.” The officer barked, “Watch your mouth! Are you threatening the witness?” “I’m just telling her to think clearly,” Mr. King said smoothly. The officer pointed a finger at Mr. King. “One more word like that, and I’ll kick you out!” Mr. King shrugged. Then, the cleaning lady whispered, “No.” I froze, staring at her in disbelief. “How can you say no? Think harder! I remember you were leaning against the sink in the women’s restroom playing on your phone!” “Really, no,” the cleaning lady said hurriedly. “She never told me.” The moment she denied it, I snapped. I grabbed her collar and screamed, “Why are you lying?! I told you! I know I did!” The cleaning lady trembled, pursed her lips, and burst into tears. 2 “I really didn’t hear her tell me anything,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes. Mr. King pushed me away, sneering. “What are you doing? Trying to assault my employee? Officer, did you see that? She’s violent!” I gasped for air, rage flooding my brain. I looked at this crying old woman. The intense emotion nearly broke me. I looked like the villain; she looked like the victim. But she was lying! I told her! The officers separated us. One asked the old woman seriously, “Think again. Did it happen or not?” “Really, no!” she wailed. “If she told me, I would have cleaned it up!” “You liar!” I roared. “Have some conscience!” Mr. King blocked me from her. “Officer, we’re here to cooperate, not to be threatened.” I was so angry I could scream. A lump formed in my chest. They were lying, but one acted righteous and the other played the victim, making me look unreasonable! The surveillance footage proved I dropped the latte, making me liable. If footage also proved I notified the staff immediately, I wouldn’t be responsible. But there are no cameras in restrooms! Mr. King looked at the officer with a nonchalant expression. “Officer, the burden of proof is on the accuser. If she claims she told our staff, she needs evidence, not just talk.” A chill ran down my spine. I had no evidence. Who records themselves telling a janitor about a spill? It’s such a trivial thing. But this trivial thing was enough to ruin my life. The officer told me not to panic and to discuss it with my family. “How can I tell them?” I muttered. “My mom will lose her mind.” The injured woman suddenly spoke up through her tears. “You think you’re the only one with parents? The day I went into the ICU, my mom had a stroke from the shock and is paralyzed! What did my family do to deserve this?” I couldn’t refute her. I knew she was innocent. But so was I. As a daughter, I hated telling my parents about trouble I caused. But this trouble was too big. I couldn’t handle it alone. 3 With trembling hands, I called my mom and asked her to come to the police station. Hearing “police station,” she panicked, asking if I was in a fight or hurt. I didn’t know how to explain, so I just asked her to come. Her voice choked up. She didn’t ask who was right or wrong, only if I was okay. When I said I wasn’t hurt, she sighed in relief and said she was on her way. The officer told me to sit and think if there was any way to prove I contacted the mall staff. Sadly, I couldn’t think of anything. No video, no recording. A small event decided my future, and I had no way to fight back. Mom arrived on her electric scooter, helmet still on, keys in hand. She pushed open the door nervously, scanning the room for me. She pointed at me and whispered to the officer, “That’s my daughter.” When the officer beckoned her in, she entered, clutching her keys, asking, “What happened to my girl?” The officer sat her down and patiently explained the situation. Mom listened, then said anxiously, “My daughter doesn’t lie. She’s never lied since she was little.” In her desperation, she grabbed the officer’s arm. “She volunteered in Wuhan during the pandemic! Her character is excellent!” Mr. King scoffed. “So that means we’re lying? Just because you say she’s noble? Oh wow, volunteered in Wuhan, so impressive!” The officer glared at Mr. King. “Can’t you speak civilly?” 4 “I’m just afraid my employee will get shortchanged,” Mr. King said innocently. “Dragging out good deeds for sympathy points? Is this a place for evidence or feelings? Let’s skip mediation and go to court!” He started to lead the cleaning lady out. My mom rushed over and grabbed the woman’s arm. “Ma’am, please tell the truth! My daughter wouldn’t lie. Please, just tell the truth!” “I really didn’t lie,” the cleaning lady sobbed. “She didn’t tell me.” I watched them leave helplessly. The injured woman sighed. “Thank you for mediating, officers. I’ll sue. Let the judge decide.” Mom turned to her. “Child, my daughter didn’t lie to you.” “That doesn’t matter,” the woman said. “I’m the most innocent victim here, aren’t I?” Mom opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word. Since mediation failed, we signed the papers and left. The officers advised me to think hard about any potential evidence, promising to look for some themselves. Outside the station, Mom told me to hop on the back of her scooter. She turned back. “I know you wouldn’t lie. Don’t be afraid. Mom believes you. There is justice in this world.” My nose stung. I held back tears. She told me not to be afraid. But as she rode, I saw her wiping tears from her face. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I went to get a beer from the fridge to help me sleep. But when I opened my door, I saw my parents sitting in the living room. They were holding their bank book, looking at it again and again, as if staring would make the numbers grow. Mom bit her hand to stifle her sobs. She kept asking Dad what to do. Dad smoked silently, saying nothing. I retreated into my room and closed the door softly. A sleepless night. I contacted many lawyers. They all told me I would lose. But I refused to sit and wait for death. I knew the cleaning lady was lying. I stopped going to work. I followed her. I stalked her.

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1 On my way home from work, I stopped by the local market to pick up everything I needed. When I got home, I followed a recipe online and made myself a batch of crispy pork bites. Just as I ladled the last golden-brown piece into a bowl, I told my fiancé we were through. It felt like only seconds passed before both sets of our parents descended on my apartment, surrounding me like a tribunal. “Was it really necessary?” As they all stared at me, bewildered, I popped the last piece of pork into my mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “Yes,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “It was.” … When I was a little girl, I asked my parents if they could make me crispy pork bites. They said it was too much trouble. A few years later, my mom made a big batch for my newborn sister. And then my dad made some for my cousin when my aunt brought him over. When I asked my fiancé, Kevin, if he would make them for me, he gave me the same excuse. It’s too much trouble. Different people, different times, but the exact same reason. So, I bought the ingredients myself. I followed the steps, one by one. I heated the oil, coated the pork, and fried each piece until it was perfect. And as I set the finished dish on the table, I realized the truth. It wasn’t hard at all. But for a dish this simple, not a single one of them had ever been willing to make it for me. “Oh, Joy, dear.” Kevin’s mother sat beside me, taking my hand in her soft, warm ones. “Let me apologize on Kevin’s behalf. From now on, whenever you two come over, I’ll make them for you every single day, how does that sound?” I gently pulled my hand away, offering a faint smile. “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Gable.” It wouldn’t be necessary ever again. Now, I knew how to make them myself. “Well then,” his father boomed, ever the problem-solver. “How about I take Kevin to the store right now? We’ll get the best pork and he can make a fresh batch for you, right away!” Before I could protest, the group was in motion, practically dragging a stunned Kevin out the door. Only my mother stayed behind with me. The moment the door clicked shut, her face hardened. “Joy, you’re not a child anymore. Why are you throwing a tantrum?” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’re engaged! Breaking up over something so petty? Are you serious?” “Why is it,” she sighed, her voice laced with disappointment, “that the older you get, the less obedient you become?” That last word, obedient, made my head swim. She was right. I used to be the most obedient child. My parents raised me like a boy, so I wore my cousins’ hand-me-down clothes. For ten dollars, they had my long hair chopped off, leaving me with a patchy, scalp-hugging buzz cut. They said I was easy on my shoes, so I wore the same pair for months, until the other kids started complaining about a strange smell in the classroom. Everyone said I was smart, so I gave up my guaranteed spot at the top high school to my underachieving cousin and took the entrance exam myself. They said there was a future in medicine, so I let them fill out my college applications. After graduation, they said it was time to get married, so I went on one blind date after another until they approved of someone. Growing up, every adult who met me told my parents how lucky they were. And my parents would puff up with pride, boasting to anyone who would listen that I was the easiest, most obedient child they could have ever asked for. But. The hand-me-down clothes were always too big; I was constantly tripping on the hems. Of that ten dollars for my hair, all I ever saw was a single bread roll. The smell from my worn-out shoes made me so ashamed that I barely spoke a word in class. And the medical degree they chose for me? It wasn’t the kind that came with a prescription pad. “Mom, I really don’t want to—” SLAP. A sharp sting bloomed across my cheek. “What do you want? Huh?!” Her voice was a shard of glass in my ear. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me to the floor. “I’m asking you, what is it you think you’re trying to do?” She beat me with her purse, a frantic, relentless rhythm of thuds against my back and shoulders. “Do you have any idea how humiliated I was today?!” “Crispy pork bites! Are you that desperate for a snack?” “If word of this gets out, what do you think people will say about me?” “You may not have any shame, but I do!” I curled into a ball on the floor, protecting my head with my arms, biting my lip to keep from crying out. When she finally tired herself out, she stopped. “When they get back,” she panted, looming over me, “you will pull yourself together. You will apologize. And when they offer you a way out, you will take it. Do you understand me?” Her phone buzzed. After a quick glance, she grabbed my shirt and hauled me to my feet, shoving me toward the bathroom. “Go wash your face. Now.” The pain made me move slowly, so she gave me one last violent push. “Hurry up!” The door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, combing my hair back into place with my fingers and smoothing out my clothes. I wet a washcloth to wipe my face, but instead, I buried my face in the damp cloth and sobbed, muffling the sounds so no one would hear. “Are you done yet? They’re back.” She cracked the door open, her voice an impatient hiss, then slammed it shut again. A moment later, the doorbell rang. I heard her greet them with a laugh that was far too bright. “You’re back! Oh, Robert, Carol, I am so sorry about today! You really had to see us at our worst.” “And you bought so much food! Frank, you should have stopped them, letting our dear friends spend so much!” Steeling myself, I finally pushed the bathroom door open. My father was waiting for me in the hall. He handed me a small paper bag. “Your mother asked me to get this. She said you have cramps.” He sighed, his eyes filled with a familiar weariness. “She hit you again, didn’t she?” “She just has a short fuse. Deep down, she’s only thinking of what’s best for you. Don’t hold it against her.” “But Dad, I—” He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “You know how it is. I’ve never had a say in anything concerning you.” So you can’t even listen to me finish a single sentence? I clutched the bag of painkillers, a bitter mix of emotions churning in my stomach. When I walked into the living room, Kevin’s parents nudged him forward. He came over and gently led me to the sofa. A plate of freshly cut fruit sat on the coffee table. “Just wait here for a little bit,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll have the pork bites ready in no time.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen before I could refuse. “I don’t want them anymore,” I said, my voice just loud enough to carry. Every head in the room turned to me. Then, they all broke into knowing, indulgent smiles. “Looks like Joy is still a little upset! You’d better work your magic, son!” Kevin’s dad clapped him on the shoulder and followed him into the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll help. We’ll get this done fast.” My mother exchanged a look with my father. “Don’t mind her,” she said with a dismissive wave. “She’s always been one for dramatic statements.” “You’re doing the right thing, Joy!” Kevin’s mom, Carol, patted my shoulder, pretending to be on my side. “Don’t forgive him so easily. You should at least wait until the pork is on the table… and we’ve all had a chance to eat some, right?” “You see how wonderful your future in-laws are?” my mom chimed in, seamlessly picking up the thread. “You and Kevin are going to have a wonderful life together!” The two of them began to chat idly. I stared down at my hands, digging my nails into my palms. When the fresh batch of crispy pork bites was finally placed on the table, a pair of chopsticks was pressed into my hand. Five pairs of eyes were fixed on me. The room was silent. But in my head, a chorus of voices chanted: Eat it. Just eat it, and this will all be over. Eat it. Stop throwing a tantrum. Eat it. Go back to being our good, obedient girl. My hand trembled as I lifted the chopsticks and picked up a piece of pork. I raised it, smelling the savory aroma. I brought it to my lips, my mouth opening slightly. Then, I turned and held it out to Kevin. “You have it.” He carefully took a bite, chewing slowly. “There we go!” Carol clapped her hands in delight, draping Kevin’s arm over my shoulder. “See? Every couple argues. The important thing is to make up!” A wave of relief washed over the room. Satisfied smiles bloomed on everyone’s faces. Everyone but me. But no one cared if I was smiling. It didn’t matter. Because in the end, I would always do what they wanted. And just like that, the incident was over. That’s what they all thought. But I knew. This wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. After dinner, our parents ushered us out the door, insisting we go for a walk to “talk things through.” But what was there to talk about? We met on a setup. Our parents decided we were a good match. So we got engaged. Our conversations were a rotation of “Have you eaten?” and “Sleep well.” “Let me take a picture of you,” he said suddenly as we walked along the river. I waved him off, but he was already holding up his phone. “My mom always says, when a girl says no, she really means yes.” I just stared at him. He had the grace to look a little sheepish. “And my dad said that’s how he won my mom over.” “Well,” I said, my voice flat and cold, “not every woman in the world is your mother.” I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there. The second I opened the door to my apartment, a hand swung out and struck my face. “You ungrateful brat!” my mother snarled, her eyes blazing. “They came all this way for you, and this is how you repay them? Do you know how heartbroken Carol was when she heard what you said?” “She’s not my mother,” I mumbled, my head down, my fists clenched at my sides. “Don’t you dare get smart with me!” she shrieked, her face turning a deep shade of red. “Now I have to go clean up your mess again! Are you happy now?” “Do I really have to marry him?” I finally looked up at her, a lifetime of resentment welling in my eyes. “He doesn’t even love me. He wouldn’t even make me a simple plate of crispy pork bites.” “He didn’t make them for you?” She pointed a trembling finger at the leftover pork on the table, then slammed her hand down with a loud bang. “His entire family came here to cook for you, and you’re still not satisfied?” But this was a meal born from a threat. If I hadn’t said I was leaving, I would have never seen it. Besides, I hadn’t eaten a single piece. “Who do you think you are, Wednesday? The Queen of England?” “Take a good look at yourself! You’re thirty, you’re plain, you’re overweight! You should be grateful anyone is interested in you at all!” She yanked at my clothes, her words a torrent of insults punctuated by blows. My birth name was Wednesday. I was the third of the cousins, and my parents couldn’t be bothered to come up with anything else. So, Wednesday I was. Growing up, on that particular day of the week, kids would always shout my name. “Wednesday! Hey, Wednesday!” The moment I turned my head, they would erupt in cruel, mocking laughter. “We weren’t talking to you. We were talking about the day.” But if I ignored them, they’d throw rocks or clumps of dirt at me. “Are you deaf? I was calling you!” When I went home and told my parents, they’d just say, “They’re only joking, honey. Don’t be so sensitive.” But it wasn’t funny. It was never funny. The first chance I got as an adult, I changed it. Joy. As in, freedom. The freedom I craved. My parents scoffed when they heard it. They said I was being dramatic and overly sensitive, and they always pronounced it with a strange, mocking tone. But over time, they stopped calling me Wednesday. And I finally shed the name that had been the source of my shame for my entire youth. Until tonight. “My name is Joy,” I said through the pain. That only made her angrier. “Feeling defiant today, are we?” She grabbed a plastic coat hanger and started hitting me with it, each strike harder than the last. “Let me tell you something. To me, you’re Wednesday. You always have been, and you always will be!” The hanger left angry red welts on my arms, which were already turning a bruised purple. It wasn’t until the hanger snapped across my face that my dad finally stepped in. “Stop it! Don’t hit her face. What will people say if they see?” “This is all your fault! You spoiled her!” She threw him off, flinging the broken hanger to the floor where it clattered against my foot. She grabbed her purse and stormed out, kicking the door on her way. My dad came over and picked up the pieces of the hanger. “Don’t be too hard on your mother,” he said softly. “What you said really hurt Carol’s feelings. She had to grovel to apologize. I’ve never seen her like that.” “She does all this for you,” he continued. “You need to be more obedient.” I turned my head away. If it was all for me, why did they never once ask what I wanted? He gently smoothed my hair. “I know you’re the most sensible one, Joy. When your mother sets up a time, you’ll go and apologize properly.” “I’m not going.” He chuckled, as if I’d told a silly joke. “There you go with the drama again. I’ll text you the details. I have to go.” But this time, I meant it. I wasn’t going. Three days later, my mother called. “Where are you? Didn’t you get my texts?” I pulled my suitcase along the smooth airport floor. “I got them,” I said calmly. “Well, get a move on! You need to be here early to apologize, you hear me?” “I told you,” I said, my voice even. “I’m not coming.” “You’re looking for another beating, aren’t you—” Her voice climbed into a shriek. I ended the call. Just as I turned to leave, I saw her.

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Three days after my college application was tampered with, I began to have suicidal thoughts. I wanted to die peacefully, but the pharmacy downstairs refused to sell me sleeping pills. I sighed and walked into the bathroom, ready to slit my wrists. Just as I made a small cut. My phone rang. My heart skipped a beat when I saw my mom’s name. I thought to myself, If Mom cares about me, I won’t die. I answered the phone, only to hear my mom’s accusing voice: “Penny, it’s just a changed application, was it necessary to yell at your sister? She’s in the hospital now, come over and apologize to her immediately.” I hung up. My beating heart completely turned into a pool of dead water. I gripped the small knife tighter… The doorbell rang. 1 I wanted to ignore it, but the person ringing the doorbell was persistent. So annoying. I grabbed some tissues to cover my bleeding wrist. The tissues were instantly soaked with blood. I opened the door and said impatiently, “Advertising or meter reading? No adults are home, come back later!” Seeing the person opposite didn’t speak, I looked up. He seemed a bit familiar. “Oh… I remember now, you’re the one who bought the last bottle of sleeping pills! What, are you here to share some with me?” “Do you f*cking know you’re bleeding?!” The man yelled at me, leaving me stunned. He picked me up and ran outside. “Hey, the door isn’t closed…” If my parents came back and saw this, they’d lock me in the dark room again. Blood soaked the tissues and stained his white T-shirt red. My thoughts were getting blurrier… “Don’t sleep! We’re almost at the hospital!” My head cleared a bit, and I smelled a faint mint scent on him. I suddenly wanted to laugh. “Haha, hahahaha…” The voice above asked, slightly out of breath, “Why are you laughing? Did I hit your funny bone?” “No… it’s just been a long time since anyone cared about me like this.” Laughing turned into crying. Tears fell like broken strings, huge drops rolling down. I felt sorrow for myself, sorrow for desperately trying to please my family, sorrow for being targeted and not daring to get angry, sorrow for my lost college opportunity, sorrow for my life. My eyes slowly closed. I heard someone desperately calling me. “Hey, little girl, wake up! There’s no hurdle in life you can’t cross. I’ll help you…” But I was so tired. If there is a next life, I won’t come to this family. 2 Years ago, my grandma told me that my parents were too busy with work, so they fostered me in the countryside. Grandma said they loved me very much, and I believed her. I always looked forward to meeting my parents. But when I was brought to the city, I realized, oh, I have a brother! And even a sister! Why could they keep my brother and sister with them despite being busy, but leave me alone with Grandma? My mom held my hand. Her hand was cold, mine was trembling. She introduced: “This is your brother, Kyle, and this is your sister, Lucy.” I didn’t know why my sister’s last name was different from our parents’, especially since we were only a month apart in age. But I didn’t dare ask because Mom said Lucy had asthma, and I needed to take care of her and tolerate her just like they did. However, the sister who always seemed obedient in front of my family was constantly against me. She cut her own dress and said I did it. She tore up her own homework and said I did it. Such clumsy framing, yet my parents believed it without a doubt. I was scolded, punished, locked in the dark room, step by step labeled as a bad child. I was unwilling to accept this. Once, I secretly recorded evidence of Lucy’s “crimes,” planning to reveal it when she tried her tricks again. I still remember how excited I was that day. When I played the video, I felt like the heroine in a revenge story, finally turning the tables. I saw my parents’ expressions change, and panic appeared on Lucy’s face. I thought my parents would apologize to me and scold Lucy, maybe even lock her in the dark room. But no. Just as my parents looked at Lucy with surprise, she clutched her neck and fell to the ground in pain. “Lucy!” Mom screamed and picked her up. “Call 911!” The whole family rushed to the hospital, no one pursuing Lucy’s framing of me. I stood there holding the evidence, feeling like a clown. My brother pushed me. “Is it fun? Are you happy seeing Lucy in the hospital?” “Yes, she’s adopted, but she’s lived with us all along. I’ve long treated her as my real sister.” “But you…” He looked me up and down: “Dark and tacky, with such a scheming mind. If you dare go against Lucy again, I’ll beat you!” I felt cold all over. I knew I had lost. 3 My parents made me go to the hospital to apologize to Lucy. I went. Tears swirled in my eyes with grievance, the apology stuck in my throat. “So everything she did to me before, it doesn’t matter?” I asked softly. “Lucy is just insecure, afraid we won’t like her anymore now that you’re here,” Mom explained. “My child shouldn’t be so petty, right?” I nodded, tears slowly flowing out. “I’m sorry.” After saying that, I ran away, tears blurring my vision, bumping into someone. “Sorry.” I hurriedly apologized and settled myself in a corner of the park bushes. As I squatted down to cry, I felt something soft lick the back of my hand. “Meow~” A stray cat was squatting beside me, looking at me curiously. Seeming to sense my sadness, it actually did a backflip to make me happy. Grievance, unwillingness, touched… all emotions exploded at this moment. I picked up the confused kitten and cried holding it for a long time. 4 “Let’s go, I’ll take you home!” The kitten seemed to understand my words and lay quietly in my arms. It was getting late. When I opened the door, they had already returned from the hospital. The family was happily eating and chatting, Lucy’s laughter so piercing. The food on the table was almost gone. No one called me, no one waited for me. But this was normal. Holding the kitten, I mustered the courage to say: “I want to keep it.” The laughter stopped abruptly. My dad was the first to refuse: “Raising a cat is too much trouble, we’re busy and don’t have time!” “I’ll take care of it myself, you don’t need to do anything.” “Cats ruin furniture,” Mom frowned. “I’ll keep it in my room and won’t let it out.” “Lucy has asthma, we can’t have animals in the house. Give up on that idea,” my brother said coldly. Me: “…” I knew I couldn’t keep it. Putting the kitten back where I found it, I cried again, apologizing while crying. “Why are you apologizing again?” Suddenly, a voice sounded in my ear. “I can’t adopt it,” I said. “Family won’t let you?” I nodded. “Then grow up quickly. Later you can make your own decisions.” The stranger’s words lit a spark of hope in my heart. I studied desperately just to get into a good university and move out. Maybe then, my parents would be proud of me too. 5 The day the scores came out. The smile disappeared from Lucy’s face. I scored a full two hundred points higher than her. I could get into an Ivy League school, while she couldn’t even reach the cutoff for a decent state college. She smashed things in anger, looking at me with venom in her eyes. Afraid she might do something drastic, my parents stayed by her side all day. My brother also took leave to buy her gifts and make her happy. And I, who should have been celebrating at a restaurant, was left aside. I got the good grades I fantasized about, but the hug from my parents I fantasized about never came. They gave all their hugs to Lucy. I couldn’t even mention my score or be happy about my achievement. Even a smile on my face would trigger Lucy’s asthma. Even so, Lucy didn’t let me off. There was only one computer at home. Using the excuse of checking schools, she sent me away while I was filling out my application and tampered with my choices.

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I chased after Julian Thorne for ten years. He deeply despised me, never giving me a kind look. Until I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He finally started to care about me, even planning a grand proposal. Just when I thought my suffering was over and happiness had arrived. He placed an organ donation agreement in front of me. “Since you don’t have long to live anyway, why not give your heart to Claire?” He coaxed me in a low voice. Julian Thorne would never know. On this very day, I discovered my cancer diagnosis was a mistake. I accepted a job offer from across the ocean and finally decided to leave him. 1 When I walked out of the hospital, I was still running a high fever, feeling dazed. Julian’s call came through. “Where are you? Didn’t I tell you Claire has a heart condition and can’t be left alone?” I blinked, and two lines of tears ran down my face, my heart aching as if pierced by a knife. I wanted to say, be nicer to me, Julian, I have terminal cancer, I’m dying soon. But I knew, in Julian’s eyes, I was just a desperate admirer who had persisted for ten years. He only cared about Claire, his first love with the heart condition. “I’m coming right away, don’t be angry.” In the last moments of my life, I still cared about him, not wanting to upset him. When I arrived at Claire’s house, I was soaked, clothes clinging to my body. Claire sneezed. Julian’s disgusted gaze swept over me. “You brought all this dampness inside. Claire can’t handle this.” I bent down, hiding the terminal cancer diagnosis deeper in my bag, my heart twisting in pain. “I know.” I wiped away a tear. Claire and Julian were playing the piano, a duet. Watching their intimate figures from behind, I had never felt so superfluous. “Wen, can you go upstairs and get a painting for me?” Claire turned her face and smiled at me. When she had this expression, nothing good ever happened. Last time, she drove a shard of a broken wine glass into my palm, then complained to Julian that I was too careless. The time before that, she added crushed peanuts to my food, sending me into anaphylactic shock. My shoulders trembled. “Hurry up, why are you so slow?” Julian sneered, his cold gaze landing on me. Sure enough, while carrying the painting downstairs, Claire let go without warning. I tumbled down the stairs like a ball, landing amidst shattered glass, my entire back riddled with wounds. Claire gasped, as if she wasn’t the one who pushed me. “I really liked that painting!” She started crying pitifully. Julian picked up the painting from the floor, not even thinking to help me up. “It’s all your fault, clumsy idiot. I can’t believe you can do anything right!” He sneered, kicking my leg. But when Claire made mistakes, he didn’t say that. Last time I had food poisoning, he told Claire, “It’s okay, Wen is tough, she won’t die that easily.” But I was really dying. I stood up with difficulty, barely able to stand due to the high fever and blood loss. A flicker of pity crossed Julian’s brow, and he reached out a hand as if to support me. “My heart feels a bit uncomfortable.” Claire clutched her chest, instantly drawing all of Julian’s attention. “Stop pretending. If you’re hurt, go treat it. Standing here, do you want me to feel sorry for you?” Julian scolded me. I turned around and saw my music composition on Claire’s desk. But this was something I prepared for a competition, never shown to anyone. “Where did you find this?” I snatched the score back, protecting it tightly in my arms. Julian snatched it back from me without hesitation. “Claire is having a piano recital soon, she needs a piece.” I understood instantly. Only Julian had the key to my house. When I shyly played this piece for him to express my love, was he moved by me, or rejoicing for Claire? My tears flowed like a fountain. Then I suddenly remembered, I have terminal cancer, no more chances. These are all worldly possessions, let Claire have them all, I don’t care anymore. The smile on my lips provoked Julian. He sternly questioned why I was so petty. Behind him, Claire’s mocking and triumphant gaze fell on me. Overwhelmed by the shock, my knees gave way, and I fainted, losing consciousness. 2 When I woke up, I was alone in the hospital. The bag containing the diagnosis had not even been opened. I slowly got up and thanked the nurse for treating my wounds. “The gentleman who brought you here did it for you.” The nurse looked at me in surprise. Julian… When Claire was sick, he would stay up all night with her, but he had never done this for me. Does this mean he cares about me, even just a little bit? My phone rang; it was the bakery owner reminding me that the cake I ordered for Julian days ago was ready. I remembered today was his twenty-seventh birthday. Ten years ago, I met him for the first time. My parents were employees of the Thorne family and died in a work accident. Old Mr. Thorne felt sorry for me and adopted me. Back then, I couldn’t sleep at night, crying constantly. It was Julian who knocked on my door and fed me ice cream. He used to be very good to me, until he realized I liked him, then he became suddenly cold. “Being liked by someone poor and lowly like you is a humiliation to me.” He told me bluntly that we were not from the same world, not to mistake pity for love. The next day, he brought Claire back. I pulled myself out of the memories, exhausted, and went to pick up the cake. This might be the last birthday I spend with him. No matter what, I hope he is happy. Julian’s birthday party was lively; all his friends were there. Standing at the door, I heard them teasing. “The bootlicker didn’t show up this year. Did she finally give up?” Another person sneered. “Wen? She’s more loyal than a dog. Ten years, and we can’t drive her away.” Julian let them talk about me. Then I felt my blood run cold as I heard Julian’s voice. “Ten years ago we made a bet, to see how long she’d last with my cold treatment. Turns out she’s still here today.” The room filled with their laughter. As I turned to leave, Claire spotted me. Her playful gaze landed on me. “You’re here, why not come in? Finally realized you’re not worthy?” My tears hadn’t dried yet as I looked at her. “At least I’m not vicious.” Despite saying that, I uncomfortably hid the hand holding the cake behind my back. The ten-layer cake Claire ordered for him was too expensive, making mine look laughable. “Sister-in-law is here!” As Claire walked ahead, everyone stood up. Julian frowned and scolded everyone not to talk nonsense, but let Claire sit beside him. “Brother Julian is still hiding it from us, but Auntie already told us about the engagement between you and Sister-in-law.” Everyone’s eyes drifted over me casually. I straightened my back, raised my glass, smiling more painfully than crying. “Then congratulations to you both.” I downed the drink in one gulp. “Are you crazy?” Julian grabbed my hand, looking tense. So he remembered I was allergic to alcohol. But last time I had a conflict with Claire, he forced me to drink as an apology until I got alcohol poisoning. His bad treatment always outweighed the good, making me feel that even death was a relief. “Julian.” Claire called him softly. Julian turned around quickly, no longer paying any attention to me. After the cake, everyone clamored for Julian to open gifts. His friends were all rich heirs; I was out of place among them. When he opened mine, Julian’s gaze grew serious. It was a jade bracelet. Not the best quality, but it was the only relic my mother left me. I once told Julian that if I were to die, I would give him the bracelet. “What are you playing at? Faking illness, playing hard to get, I really underestimated your tactics.” He suddenly flew into a rage. Yes, in his eyes, I was just faking it. I wiped my tears. “I won’t be able to stay by your side anymore. I wish you and Claire happiness forever.” Even if the future no longer includes me. Julian turned away suppressing his anger, as if looking at me dirtied his eyes. “Don’t be angry.” Claire tugged at his sleeve and held out her hand. “I think the bracelet is very beautiful. Can I have it?” Julian lowered his head and put it on her. Claire gave me a provocative smile. She mouthed three words to me— “You’re not worthy.” Sitting in the corner, my love for Julian shattered piece by piece in that moment. My phone rang. It was an email from Cole. “Wen, I opened a music studio in the States. Would you consider being my partner?” My hands trembled slightly. “What are you looking at?” Perhaps noticing my odd behavior, Julian leaned over to look at my phone screen. I quickly switched screens. His eyes darkened, and then, he saw my Taobao shopping cart. Inside lay an expensive ring, dazzlingly bright. “Stop pretending. Saying you bless Claire and me, but in your heart, you’re still delusional about marrying me.” His lips curled into a mocking arc. Everyone around laughed, saying I was daydreaming, a toad wanting to eat swan meat. Expressionless, I turned off my phone screen. “Whatever you say.” I didn’t care anymore. 3 If only I had received the email earlier. Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I would have accepted with joy, taking the chance to leave Julian forever. I realized then that the thought of leaving him had long been in my heart. But it was impossible now; I had no future. When I got home, I took off the safety charm I had worn for ten years. It was what Julian prayed for when I was seriously ill at 17. One for him, one for me. The charm was useless. Loving Julian persistently was useless too. Mrs. Thorne suddenly messaged me, asking me to go to the old mansion. I owed the Thorne family, so I never refused her. When I arrived, Julian was sulking with his family, turning his face away from me. Seeing me, Mrs. Thorne smiled. “Just in time. I heard today that rumors are spreading about Julian and Claire being engaged.” Mrs. Thorne frowned. “I don’t like that girl. She has heart disease, poor health, and acts too delicate.” She liked me, never because of my character or talent. Only because I was healthy, obedient, docile, and loved Julian wholeheartedly. “I called you here today to discuss your marriage.” Julian crossed his arms and snorted coldly. “Is she worthy? Mom, are you confused? Aren’t you all about social status?” He pushed me. “Wen, what potion did you give her? You’re so unscrupulous!” I met his gaze calmly. “Let go of me.” Julian was stunned. In ten years, I had never spoken to him in that tone. “I’m sorry, Auntie. We’re not suitable. It can’t be forced.” Julian froze. “Wen, you…” I took the diagnosis out of my bag. “Three days ago, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctor said I have less than a year left.” Julian collapsed. Like a cooked noodle, unable to support his own body. He snatched the diagnosis from my hand, reading it over and over. “We’ll see a doctor. It can be cured, it must be curable.” Julian’s hands trembled as he leaned on my shoulder. I felt a dampness. “It can’t be cured! Do you know what terminal cancer is? I can’t live anymore. I won’t pester you again. You happy now?” I pushed him away, wiped my eyes, and cried out loud. Julian’s phone rang incessantly. It was Claire. “What do I do? My condition worsened. The doctor says I need a healthy heart donor ASAP.” On the other end, Claire cried pitifully. “I’ll go to the hospital to accompany her first. She needs me. Once her matter is resolved, I’ll take you to the doctor.” My heart, just warmed up, went cold again. “When it’s resolved, bring her to burn incense on my grave.” I sneered. Every time it was like this. Every time, Claire’s needs were several priorities higher than mine. I had learned not to expect anything. Shortly after Julian left, Claire posted a Moment. Afraid I wouldn’t see it, she specifically tagged me. Every photo featured Julian running errands for her, feeding her, helping her with injections. I commented on it. “He’s a scumbag, you’re cheap. A match made in heaven.” Since I won’t live long anyway, might as well offend everyone. 4 Three days later, Julian called me. “Come to the beach where we first met, okay?” Julian was once kidnapped on that very beach. After getting the money, the kidnappers threw him into the sea. I jumped in and saved him. He had stopped breathing. I performed CPR on him over and over. The first thing he did upon waking was push me away violently. “Why is it you? Where’s Claire?” Recalling the past, I laughed at myself. My heart instinctively tightened. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. The beach was calm. Julian stood before me holding a bouquet, looking handsome. A grand and solemn proposal scene, yet I arrived sweaty, without even lipstick. Even though I told him a hundred times. “When you propose to me, you must tell me in advance. For the most important moment in life, I want to be prepared, pretty and exquisite.” People who don’t love me just can’t remember a word I say. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been so cold to you before. Please give me another chance to treat you well for the rest of my life, okay?” Julian knelt on one knee before me. He opened the ring box. Inside was the ring I once added to my shopping cart. So he remembered. Maybe because it was too dazzling, my dead heart stirred a little. I covered my face, trying hard not to cry out loud. Such a solemn ritual finally sparked some of my pink fantasies. This was the scene I had been anticipating since ten years ago. Just as I was about to take the flowers from Julian, Claire shouted— “Don’t!” Forgetting her heart disease, she ran over recklessly and knelt before me. “Please don’t guilt-trip him morally. I know your terminal cancer is pitiful, but he has no obligation to be with you…” Julian frowned, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “Claire, get up. I’m doing this voluntarily. Wen didn’t force me.” I crossed my arms, watching their love-hate drama. I hadn’t intended to agree, but feeling rebellious now, I quickly took the ring from Julian. Since Claire opposed me at every turn, I’d spite her to death! Seeing me accept, Julian breathed a sigh of relief. He held my hand with one hand and Claire’s with the other. “The three of us have been best friends for ten years.” He looked at me with earnest eyes. “Wen, after we marry, sign a body donation agreement, okay? Since you don’t have long to live anyway, and Claire needs a heart.” So that was it. My heart went cold instantly. I understood everything. How pathetic. I wasn’t even sad anymore. Perhaps I was used to Julian’s bias. Claire looked at me with an expression that said it was only natural. I shook off their hands. “Perhaps you have some misunderstanding about me.” I stood up straight. “But this heart of mine, even if I throw it on the street for dogs to eat, I won’t give it to Claire.” I sneered and turned to leave. Julian hugged my waist. “Wen, don’t be impulsive. I love you!” After ten years, I finally heard love from his lips. Sadly, I no longer coveted it. A text message arrived. I opened it. It was from the hospital. “Sorry, we mixed up your medical records with another lady of the same name. You are in good health.” I was overwhelmed by sheer joy. Only after losing it once did I realize that love is far less important than life. I quickly replied to Cole’s email and booked a flight for tonight. I accepted his job offer. Panic flashed in Julian’s eyes. Before losing something, people often have a premonition. I said nothing to him, just hugged him. “Honey, I accept your proposal. Go prepare the wedding.” “I have some matters to handle abroad. Don’t worry, I’ll be back on time before the wedding.” I lied to him. I would never come back. But he had embarrassed and humiliated me so much. I wanted him to wait at a wedding for one, for a bride who would never come. This was my final revenge on him.

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My brother-in-law, blind drunk, slapped my five-year-old daughter across the face in front of the whole family. “You little brat,” he slurred. “Don’t you know how to greet your uncle?” My daughter, only five, burst into terrified tears. I was about to explode, but my wife, Sarah, grabbed my arm, her voice a low hiss. “Don’t make a scene. We’ll talk at home.” Looking at her, so desperate to smooth things over, I felt a sudden, bitter laugh bubble up inside me. I didn’t say another word that night. The next morning, I made a single phone call. That afternoon, my brother-in-law, Jack, burst into our home, his face sheet-white. “Are you insane? If you pull my loan guarantee, my company is finished!” I lifted my coffee mug, blowing gently on the steam. “Well, Jack,” I said slowly, “my daughter might not have any manners, but as her father, I have even less.” 1 The crack of palm against cheek. Sharp. Clean. Silence slammed down on the dinner table. The half-eaten shrimp fell from my daughter’s tiny hand, spattering sauce on Jack’s pant leg. “Waaaaah!” The cry tore through the quiet. My five-year-old daughter, Monica, recoiled so violently she almost fell off her chair. Jack drew his hand back, his face flushed with booze and anger. The stench of cheap whiskey filled the air. He jabbed a finger at Monica, the tip nearly poking her in the eye. “No manners,” he growled. “Doesn’t greet her uncle. Gets food all over me. She had it coming.” I clenched my fists. The fork in my hand bent, the tines digging into my palm. I stood up. The scrape of my chair against the floor was a raw, ugly sound. My wife, Sarah, lunged at me, wrapping her arms around my bicep like a vice. Her nails dug into my skin. “Ethan, don’t,” she pleaded, her voice a desperate whisper. “He’s drunk.” Her eyes weren’t filled with concern for our daughter. They were filled with fear. Fear that I would flip the table. Fear that I would ruin her family’s precious dinner party. I glanced at my mother-in-law, Brenda. She was dabbing at Jack’s pants with a napkin, not even looking up. “Kids are tough. A slap will teach her to remember. Besides, those pants cost a fortune. It’d be a shame to stain them.” My father-in-law, Robert, raised his wine glass for a sip. “Sit down, Ethan. We’re family. Don’t spoil the mood. And Monica, really. She’s old enough to hold a bowl properly.” Monica was clutching her face, her small fingers unable to hide the bright red handprint blooming on her cheek. She wouldn’t even look at me. She just shrank into the corner of her chair, her small body trembling. “Daddy,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hit me.” That one sentence. That one sentence ripped my insides to shreds. I threw Sarah’s arm off me. The force sent her stumbling back against a liquor cabinet. “Ethan! What are you doing? This is my parents’ house!” she shrieked. Jack slammed his glass down on the rotating centerpiece. The glass spun with a low hum. “Lost your mind, have you? You eat at our table, you play by our rules. Now sit down, knock back three shots, and we’ll call this over.” His tongue was thick, his eyes clouded with a murky arrogance I’d endured for five long years. An arrogance I’d paid for, starting with the sixty-thousand-dollar “gift” I gave her parents for the wedding, and the down payment I’d made on this very house. I bent down and lifted Monica into my arms. She buried her face in my neck, her tears soaking my collar, hot and searing. “We’re leaving.” Just two words. I turned and walked toward the door. The sound of a plate shattering echoed behind me. “Ethan! You walk out that door tonight, and don’t you dare come crawling back!” Jack bellowed. My mother-in-law was screaming now, too. “Ungrateful bastard! That’s what he is! Sarah, look at the trash you married!” Sarah caught up to me at the door, her hand clamping down on the handle. “Don’t go. What about me? My parents are here! My brother just landed that huge deal. Can’t you just let it go, for my sake?” Her eyes were red, but not for our daughter. I stared at her. This was the woman I shared a bed with. Our daughter’s face was swelling by the second, and all she cared about was some business deal. About “face.” “Move,” I said, my voice dangerously low. She wouldn’t let go. “You have to apologize to my brother. If you don’t, this marriage is over.” I laughed. A short, sharp, ugly sound escaped my throat. With one hand, I shoved the door open. The force of it knocked her to the floor. The door clicked shut behind me, cutting off the cacophony of shouts and curses. The elevator descended, the numbers dropping in the dim light. I stroked the back of my daughter’s head. “Does it hurt, sweetie?” “Daddy, Uncle Jack is so mean. I don’t like him.” “I know. We won’t see him anymore.” “Really?” “Really.” I buckled Monica into her car seat, her little body finally relaxing. The engine roared to life, its headlights slicing through the darkness. I didn’t drive back to our so-called home—the house still in Sarah’s name. I drove to the old apartment my parents had left me. Monica had cried herself to sleep, her hand still clutching a corner of my shirt. I sat on the couch in the dark. I don’t smoke, but right then, I needed the nicotine to quell the inferno raging in my veins. The cherry of the cigarette glowed and faded in the blackness. My phone buzzed. A string of messages from Sarah. Ten sixty-second voice notes. I didn’t bother listening. I just let the phone transcribe them. “Ethan where the hell are you?” “Jack is furious. You better buy him a nice gift and come apologize tomorrow morning.” “What’s the big deal? It was just a slap. He used to hit me when we were kids, and I turned out fine.” “Don’t be an idiot about this. You still have to co-sign to renew that two-hundred-thousand-dollar loan for his company, you know.” Renew the loan. Those words leaped off the screen. I crushed the cigarette in an ashtray. I went to my study, opened the safe, and pulled out a file. Inside were five years of financial records. Sixty thousand for the wedding. Another sixty thousand for her parents’ down payment. Thirty thousand for Jack’s car. Fifty thousand in start-up capital for Jack’s company. Fifteen thousand for Brenda’s hospital bills. And there it was. The most important one. The guarantee agreement for Jack’s business loan. Principal: two hundred thousand dollars. I was the joint-liability guarantor. The collateral? My pre-marital apartment. I scanned the contract. The terms were crystal clear. Black and white. “The guarantor has the right to withdraw the guarantee if the borrower defaults or poses a significant risk.” Assaulting a child while intoxicated. Does that count as a significant risk? I picked up my phone. It was 3 AM. I texted my lawyer, Leo. “I need to pull a loan guarantee. And I want a divorce. I’ll be at your office first thing in the morning.” Leo replied instantly. “Trouble?” “Yeah.” “You sure about this? Pulling the guarantee means Jack’s company’s cash flow gets cut off. That’s a feud to the death.” I glanced toward the bedroom, where the sound of my daughter’s gentle breathing filled the quiet. “If that makes us enemies for life, so be it.” 2 The morning sun was a blade in my eyes. I blinked it away. Monica was still asleep, her little body turned on its side. The swelling on her cheek had gone down, but it had been replaced by a sickening bluish-purple bruise. It looked even worse. The doorbell rang. A series of sharp, impatient jabs. I went to the door and opened it. Sarah stood there, holding a paper bag. Coffee and donuts. She’d changed clothes and put on makeup, caking foundation over the dark circles under her eyes. “Why did you bring her all the way over here? I’ve been looking everywhere,” she said, breezing past me. She put the bag on the table as if nothing had happened, as if my storming out last night was nothing more than a walk around the block. “Eat up. After breakfast, you can take Monica over to apologize to Jack. Mom says he’s calmed down a bit. Just be the bigger man, and we can all move on from this.” She held out a donut to me. The grease was already soaking through the bag. I didn’t take it. “Go look at Monica,” I said, gesturing to the bedroom. “Is she still sleeping? Let’s not wake her then. We can go later.” “I said, go look at her face.” Sarah froze. “Ethan, are you ever going to let this go? It was one slap! He was drunk, he didn’t know his own strength. He’s her elder. He’s allowed to discipline her.” “Discipline?” I walked to the table and tossed the file onto it. “Take a look.” “What’s this?” she asked, pulling out the stack of papers. Bank statements. Transaction records. A copy of the loan guarantee. Every single withdrawal, every single transfer, I had circled in red ink. “In the last five years, I have spent three hundred and forty-five thousand dollars on your family. Not including interest.” “What’s your point? Are you keeping score now?” Sarah slammed the papers back on the table, her voice shrill. “We’re family! What’s mine is yours! My parents worked hard to raise me, you know.” “They worked hard to raise you, so you could feed your brother my flesh and blood?” I pulled out a chair and sat, meeting her gaze. “Last night’s slap woke me up.” “Jack didn’t just hit Monica. He hit me. And he hit you. But he doesn’t care. And neither do you.” “In your heart, your brother is your brother, your parents are your parents. I’m just the ATM, and Monica is a burden.” “That’s not true!” Sarah’s tears started to fall. “Of course I love Monica! But what was I supposed to do? If I don’t side with my brother, my mom yells at me, my dad gets angry. How am I supposed to survive in that family?” “So you sacrifice ours instead?” I didn’t want to hear it. I’d heard the same excuses for five years until my ears were numb. I glanced at the wall clock. 9:00 AM. The bank was open. I picked up my phone and dialed, putting it on speaker. “Mr. Miller, Ethan here.” The voice on the other end was warm. “Ethan! Good morning. Is this about renewing Mr. Henderson’s loan? We’ve got the paperwork ready. When would be a good time for you to come in and sign?” Sarah’s ears perked up. A flicker of hope crossed her face. She thought I was caving, that I was going to sign. “It’s not about renewing,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m calling to inform you that I am withdrawing all guarantees for Jack Henderson’s company, Henderson Construction. I am also requesting a freeze on my collateral and initiating risk mitigation procedures.” The air in the room turned to ice. Sarah’s mouth fell open. The line was silent for three seconds. “Mr. Ross, are you serious? The loan is due next week. If you withdraw your guarantee, the bank will immediately pursue the principal from the borrower. We’d also have to flag his company as high-risk. This is…” “I’m not joking. My lawyer will deliver the official written application and supporting evidence to your office within the hour. Jack Henderson is suspected of violent criminal behavior and concealing significant personal debts. I have to protect my assets.” “I… I see. If that’s your decision, we’ll begin the risk control process immediately.” I hung up and tossed the phone on the table. The screen went dark. Sarah lost it. She lunged for the phone. “Ethan, you’re insane! That’s two hundred thousand dollars! He can’t pay that back! You’ll kill him! The company will go bankrupt!” I caught her wrist. I wasn’t rough, just firm. “His company going bankrupt is his problem, not mine.” “He’s your brother-in-law! We’re family!” “He didn’t treat us like family when he hit my daughter.” I let go of her. She collapsed to the floor, wailing. “You’ll regret this! My mother will never let you get away with this!” “Let her try.” I stood up and poured myself a glass of water from the kitchen. It was cool and clean on my throat. “Also,” I added, “the divorce papers will be arriving in a few days.” Her wails stopped. She looked up at me, her makeup smeared, a grotesque mask of disbelief. “You’re divorcing me over this?” “This?” I took another sip of water. “Sarah, this is just the beginning.” “Get out.” She didn’t move. I picked up my phone again. “Or I’m calling the police to report a trespasser.” She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her purse, and stumbled out, her heels clicking a frantic, uneven rhythm on the tile floor. The door slammed shut, rattling the walls. I walked to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Monica was sitting on the bed, hugging her stuffed bunny, her eyes wide. “Daddy? Is Mommy gone?” “Yes, she’s gone.” “Is she coming back?” “Do you want her to?” Monica shook her head. “No. Mommy always tells me to be good. She makes me get Uncle Jack’s slippers. I don’t like it.” A fist clenched around my heart. My daughter knew. She knew everything. I went to her and held her tight. “Then she’s not coming back.” My phone started vibrating again. A call from my mother-in-law, Brenda. Then my father-in-law, Robert. Then Jack. The screen lit up again and again, like a harbinger of doom. I switched it to silent and tossed it into a corner of the sofa. Then I went to the kitchen to make some scrambled eggs. They were Monica’s favorite. As long as I could make this one small thing right for her, the rest of the world could burn.

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I’d finally decided to say yes. After three years of being pursued by Leo, the most popular guy on campus, tonight was the night. He’d asked me to meet him at the campus’s “Lover’s Lane,” a secluded grove of trees, promising a surprise. Right before I left, I was scrolling through my phone and stumbled upon a livestream. A car auction. “Pristine, one-owner vehicle, never been on the road. Check out these headlights. Available for pickup tonight!” the host’s voice purred with a suggestive undertone. “She’s bright and white, a real beauty. Connoisseurs, you know what to do!” The moment he finished, a photo flashed on the screen. It was blurry, but even so, the ridiculously full curves were visually arresting. What made my heart stop, though, was the profile. It bore a striking resemblance to my own. The chat exploded. The car, listed at fifty thousand dollars, sold out in a second. The winning bidder, some rich guy, typed excitedly, “Can’t wait! Where do I pick her up?” The host giggled. “Be patient, honey. Nine p.m. Lover’s Lane. In-person inspection. First come, first served.” My heart skipped a beat. Lover’s Lane? Just then, my phone chimed. A message from Leo: “Babe, are you almost here?” 1 Leo’s message made my heart skip a beat. I frantically exited the livestream, but the image of that profile picture was seared into my brain. Trying to stay calm, I typed out a reply. “My stomach’s suddenly killing me. I don’t think I can make it tonight.” I sent the message and stared at the screen, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Leo’s reply was almost instantaneous. “What’s wrong? Did you eat something bad?” Normally, that’s what he would have asked. He was always so solicitous, so caring. But tonight, his response was different. “The surprise can’t wait. You need to get here. I’m waiting.” I stared at the words, a chill creeping up my spine. This wasn’t like him. After chasing me for three years, he’d always treated me like I was made of glass. If I even hinted at feeling unwell, he’d drop everything to come to me. Tonight, all I got was an impatient demand. The suspicion in my gut grew heavier. I dug my heels in. “I’m serious, I can barely get out of bed.” “Why don’t you bring the surprise to my dorm?” I added, testing him. This time, his reply took much longer. “No. It has to be at Lover’s Lane.” “Hurry up. Don’t drag your feet.” His tone had turned sharp, almost hostile. I gripped my phone, my palm slick with sweat. Just then, my roommate, Lily, walked over. “Chloe, you’re so pale. Are you okay?” she asked, her face a mask of concern. My family was wealthy, and I was always generous with her. The latest phones, designer bags—if I had one, she had one. She’d always been a good friend to me, like a sister. I told her about the livestream, framing it as a bizarre coincidence. My voice was hesitant; the whole thing sounded absurd even to my own ears. “Lily, do you think it could be some kind of prank?” Lily immediately shot down the idea. “Chloe, you’re just being paranoid. People are always trying to go viral online. Someone probably saw how pretty you are and is just trying to copy you.” Her words made a strange kind of sense. “I mean, think about it. Who would be bored enough to orchestrate a prank that just happens to match the exact time and place Leo asked you to meet him? The world isn’t that small.” As she spoke, she picked up a glass of papaya milk from my desk and handed it to me. “See? You’re getting all worked up over nothing. You need to relax.” “Leo bought this for you. He said you were craving it. Drink it and get some sleep.” The papaya milk was from my favorite brand, the packaging familiar. But looking at it, my appetite vanished. The livestreamer’s crude slang—“bright and white”—and this glass of papaya milk formed a grotesque connection in my mind. I pushed her hand away. “I don’t want anything cold right now. I think I’ll get some hot water.” “I’ll get it for you,” Lily offered eagerly. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go myself.” I stood up and grabbed my kettle. As I turned to leave, I caught Lily’s reflection in the full-length mirror by the door. She had snatched up her phone, her expression tense. Her thumbs were flying across the screen, typing at a furious pace. It was a stark contrast to her usual languid texting style. My heart sank. Back in my bed, I pretended to sleep, my phone on silent, the screen dimmed to its lowest setting. I joined the fan group of the “rich guy” from the auction. He was in the middle of a tirade. “What the hell is going on?” “The seller says my fifty-grand deposit doesn’t mean anything. The car broke down. Can’t pick it up tonight!” Sympathetic messages immediately followed. “Patience, my friend. A classic like that is worth the wait.” “Yeah, man, what’s one more day for a ride like that?” The rich guy wasn’t having it. “I’ve got my pants down, and you’re telling me this now?” “The seller said tomorrow. If I don’t get her tomorrow, I’m gonna kill him!” I stared at the words “broke down,” my body frozen. I had just told Leo my stomach hurt, that I couldn’t get out of bed. And just like that, the fifty-thousand-dollar “new car” had “broken down.” 2 I didn’t sleep a wink. The words “deposit” and “broke down” echoed in my mind all night. This was no coincidence. The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, my phone rang. It was Leo. I ignored it. A moment later, Lily’s call came through. “Chloe, are you awake? Leo’s downstairs. He brought you breakfast.” Her voice was cheerful, perfectly normal. I hung up without a word. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Lily opened it to reveal Leo, holding a bag of food, an apologetic look on his face. Somehow, the dorm mother had let him up. “Babe, I’m so sorry.” He came in, set the breakfast on my desk, and walked over to my bed. “I was just so excited about the surprise last night, I wasn’t thinking about your feelings. Please don’t be mad at me.” His voice was gentle, his eyes sincere. He was a flawless actor. If it hadn’t been for the livestream, I would have melted, would have thrown myself into his arms. Now, all I felt was a wave of nausea. Lily chimed in. “It’s true, Chloe. You have no idea how many all-nighters Leo pulled to get this surprise ready for you. He was just anxious last night. You can’t blame him for that.” She nudged my arm. “Come on, get up and eat. It’s your favorite, crab roe buns.” I watched their perfectly choreographed performance, a chilling coldness spreading through my chest. I pretended to be appeased. “I’m not mad.” I sat up and took the bun Leo offered me. “I really wasn’t feeling well last night.” A smile instantly lit up his face. “I knew my girl was the most understanding.” He reached out to stroke my hair. I flinched away instinctively. “I have to go to the library. I need to study for finals.” Leo’s smile faltered. Lily quickly jumped in. “Right, right! Studying is the most important thing. We’ll leave you to it.” I avoided them both and left for the library alone. I didn’t use my phone. Instead, I took out my tablet and logged into a niche forum I rarely used. In a discussion thread about last night’s livestream, I found new screenshots. It was the “rich guy” again, bragging in his fan group. “The seller sent me another picture to prove she’s ‘brand new.’ Check this out, boys. Perfect condition!” The picture was of a sliver of pale skin on a lower back. Just above the dimple of the waist was a tiny, crimson birthmark. The world tilted on its axis. My blood turned to ice. The location, the shape of that birthmark—it was identical to mine. Only two people knew about it. Lily, who I never bothered to be modest around when we were changing in our dorm room. And Leo, who had once “accidentally” walked in on me changing. He’d turned beet red and apologized profusely, swearing it was an accident. Looking back, it was all an act. The fact of their betrayal was now undeniable. I was a product on their shelf, with a price tag attached. 3 A tremor of fear ran through me. I had been living with two people who were planning to destroy me. I replayed the past few years in my mind. Lily, casually asking about my family’s business, my parents’ assets. Leo, playing the part of a hardworking, impoverished student, designed to evoke my sympathy and a desire to protect him. The expensive gifts I’d given him, which he’d always protested against before gratefully accepting. Their goal, from the very beginning, had been to sell me. I had no concrete proof. Going to the police now would only tip them off. I had to save myself. So, I returned to the dorm and acted as if nothing was wrong. Lily was lounging on her bed, wearing an expensive face mask I’d bought her. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, her tone casual. “Did you know Leo’s been working multiple jobs to save up for your gift?” She was trying to make me feel guilty, to lower my guard. “Oh,” I said, my voice flat. I opened my closet and started packing a suitcase. Lily sat bolt upright, the mask crinkling on her face. “What are you doing?” I tossed a few items into the suitcase. “I’m tired of the dorms. I’m going to get my own place.” A flicker of panic crossed her eyes. She scrambled off her bed and rushed to my side. “But that’s so expensive! And it’s not safe. Hey, I just rented a place near campus. Why don’t you move in with me? We can keep each other company.” Her invitation was effusive, but her eyes held a nervous glint. Her hypocrisy was almost laughable. She was afraid I’d slip through her fingers, trying to keep me close. I paused. “Where is it?” “It’s at the Green River apartments, right by the school.” I considered her offer. “I’ll think about it.” I stopped packing. That night, the car auction livestream was back on. “Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen,” the same host purred. “We had a little mechanical issue yesterday, but she’s all tuned up and ready to go. Tomorrow, our top bidder will finally get his hands on the wheel. I guarantee she’s got plenty of horsepower, and those headlights are brighter than ever.” The chat was a frenzy of excitement. The “rich guy” replied from the bottom of the screen. “You’d better be right. Otherwise, I’ll have to hire some people to… loosen a few screws.” The threat was unmistakable. I stared at the screen, my grip on my phone tightening. They were going to make their move tomorrow.

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