Category: English

1 Six years after Kane went legit, I ran into him at St. Jude’s Abbey in Southport. The snow was coming down thick and heavy that day. He was there with his pregnant wife, praying for their unborn child. I was there to light votive candles for my parents, who had been dead for six years. Our eyes met, and for a split second, we both froze. After a moment of charged silence, he spoke first, asking how I’d been all these years. I answered politely. “Getting by.” After his prayers, he didn’t leave. He just stood there, watching me with a thoughtful expression. The wind whipped snow and freezing rain under the cloister’s eaves. I thought he was just waiting for the storm to pass, but then he asked, his voice laced with a nervous tremor, “Li, do you still hate me?” I watched the flickering flames of the candles before me, their light dancing on the cold stone. I bit my lip and said nothing. How could I not hate him? Three lives were lost because of him. … The man’s lips parted, as if he wanted to say more. Just then, a few other visitors approached a monk, asking how to refill the oil in the votive lamps. Seeing this, Kane swallowed his words and stepped aside. I didn’t look at him again. I walked to the altar, picked up the oil vessel, and carefully refilled the three lamps engraved with the names of my loved ones. The flames leaped, their light reflecting on my calm face. Every lamp here represented a memory, a past that could never be reclaimed. My parents. My brother. They were all taken from me six years ago. And the man responsible was standing just a few feet behind me. “Kane, we should go.” A soft, feminine voice called from the cloisters, tinged with impatience. Through the swirling incense smoke, I saw Chloe, one hand on the small of her back, looking at Kane with clear annoyance. “I know.” Kane’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He took a step closer to me and pulled a business card from the inner pocket of his suit, holding it out. “Li, if… if you ever need anything, you can call this number.” I didn’t take it. He awkwardly placed the card on the edge of the nearby donation box and turned, walking quickly away. I watched as he reached Chloe’s side, gently adjusting the expensive cashmere shawl around her shoulders and carefully guiding her down the steps. A sharp, unexpected pain twisted in my gut. Outside the abbey doors, a black Bentley had been waiting. A driver held the door as Kane settled Chloe safely inside before getting in himself. The car sped away, crushing the freshly fallen snow. I pulled my gaze away, picked up the business card from the donation box, and, without a second glance, dropped it into a brazier where paper offerings were being burned. The flames licked at the edges of the card, consuming it in seconds until it was nothing but a wisp of smoke. 2 The next day was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I cooked my parents’ favorite dishes and brought them to the cemetery. I arranged the food, knelt on the cold stone slab, and, as I always did, began to speak softly to the headstone. “Mom, Dad, brother… I’m here to see you.” The wind chilled my cheeks. I reached out and gently traced the cold, carved names on the stone, as if I could still feel the warmth of my parents’ hands. “Dad, Mom,” I whispered, a faint smile touching my lips. “I saw Kane yesterday.” “But don’t you worry. He can’t hurt me anymore.” “I’m on my own now, and I’m doing just fine…” Now, I was just Clara, the owner of a small dessert shop tucked away in a Southport alley. My life was simple, steady. I was no longer the woman of the North Harbor crime boss. I would no longer have blood on my hands for his sake. And I would never again be the crazy woman who, unable to accept his betrayal, threatened to take his mistress down with her. … The year I met Kane, he was just an orphan on the streets of North Harbor, fighting dogs for scraps in a dumpster. He was young, and to get a mouthful of food without being beaten or starved to death, he was always covered in a patchwork of fresh and faded bruises. Not a single inch of his skin was unmarked. That winter, a blizzard buried the city for three days and three nights. Kane, who hadn’t eaten in days, collapsed from hunger right on our doorstep. Looking at this boy, who was my age but thin as a skeleton, I couldn’t bear it. I begged my father, the head of the North Harbor syndicate, to take him in. My parents couldn’t refuse me. They adopted Kane and began to train him. “Boss, I, Kane, will remember this debt for the rest of my life. I will repay you.” Kane was a man who honored his debts. And he did. In five years, he went from a low-level street punk to the undisputed king of North Harbor, climbing his way to the top over the blood and bones of his rivals. Throughout North Harbor, everyone addressed him with respect as “Boss Kane.” The same people who once looked down on him now scrambled to get on his good side, but he kept them all at a polite distance. Only with my father was his respect genuine, coming from the heart. Even after my father got out of the game and stepped away from power, Kane’s loyalty never wavered. “If it wasn’t for the Boss back then, I’d have died in some gutter. I wouldn’t be here today.” “You and Ma’am are like my own parents.” “I will always be a good son to you, and I will take care of Li.” And in the days that followed, two young hearts, spending every day together, began to fall in love. The old guard in the organization, who resented his rise, constantly tried to undermine him. During those years, I stood by his side through countless sleepless nights, shielded him from schemes at the negotiation table, and patched up his knife wounds in the dead of night. From internal power struggles to violent clashes with other factions, we walked the most dangerous path together. Until no one in North Harbor dared to challenge him again. But the higher he climbed, the more women threw themselves at him. Though I trusted him, I couldn’t help but feel a tremor of insecurity. He saw my anxiety and held my hand tightly. “Li, in my heart, no one compares to you.” “You’re the one who stood by me when I was bleeding, the one who walked through fire and blood with me. No one can ever replace that.” To put me at ease, he took me with him everywhere he went. He knew I loved the pan-fried dumplings from an old shop on the west side, and no matter how late he finished his business, he would drive across town to buy them for me. If I so much as burned a finger while cooking, he would frown for ages, carefully applying ointment as if it were a mortal wound. Everyone said I was the woman Kane loved to his bones, that you could cross anyone but me. I believed our bond, forged in hardship, was unbreakable. I never imagined reality would deliver such a savage slap to my face. 3 The day I discovered Kane’s affair was a day like any other. I went to find him at one of his clubs, carrying his stomach medication. But in his office, I found him tangled with the new lounge singer, their clothes in disarray. In that instant, I felt like I had been encased in ice. I stood frozen, unable to utter a single word. Helplessness, confusion, betrayal… the emotions washed over me like a flood of ice water. Kane, however, was unnervingly calm. He slowly straightened his clothes and moved to shield Chloe behind him. “I was going to tell you in a few days, but since you’ve seen it, there’s no point in hiding it.” “Publicly, you’ll still be my wife. Privately, Chloe will have the same status as you. There will be no distinction.” I watched him gently drape his suit jacket over Chloe’s shoulders. I fought back the bile rising in my throat. “Kane, you promised you would only love me. You said you would be good to me for the rest of our lives. Have you forgotten all of that?” I thought that after everything we’d been through, even if he cheated, there would still be some affection left for me. But his face was a mask of impatience. “Clara, don’t bring up the past. I was young then, I didn’t know what love was. I mistook gratitude for love. It wasn’t until I met Chloe that I understood. Real love shouldn’t be held hostage by a debt.” He said it with such finality. In that moment, all my sanity burned away. I lunged at him like a madwoman, pounding on his chest, my voice raw as I screamed at him, asking him where this left my pride, my position. Was our history worth less than some singer? Kane just stood there calmly, letting me vent. It was only when I cursed them, calling them a cheating scumbag and a whore, that his eyes turned to ice. “Enough! You can insult me, but I won’t let you talk about Chloe like that. She is the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.” “And what about me?” His gaze fell on my pale face. He paused, then said flatly, “Li, you were just a suitable wife.” In that one moment, I understood everything. When his position was unstable, many of his men didn’t respect him. Being with me was a way to use my parents’ influence to win them over. All those years of doting on me, putting me on a pedestal—it was all an act to make his crew believe he was a loyal, honorable man, someone worth following. The mask was off. The coldness in Kane’s eyes was like a row of rusty steel needles, stabbing into my heart and leaving it to bleed. My great love story had been nothing more than a calculated move in his long game. 4 While I was still reeling from this brutal truth, Kane began to pave the way for Chloe with great fanfare. He started bringing her to all important events, making sure everyone knew who the future “boss’s wife” was. I was only in my twenties then, an age where love is everything and there’s no room for compromise. I couldn’t accept that years of my devotion and love were being stolen by another woman. If I was going to be miserable, I was going to make sure they were too. So, at the birthday party Kane threw for Chloe, I made a scene. In front of more than a hundred of his men, I aired all their dirty laundry for the world to see. Amid the sound of shattering glasses and plates, Kane’s eyes were filled with weariness and annoyance. “Clara, do you have to make this so ugly? Let my men laugh at me?” I looked up at him, refusing to back down. “Yes! Why should I suffer while you two get to be happy?” Furious, Kane wrapped an arm around Chloe and stormed out. That night, I received a video call from Chloe. On the screen, Kane’s back was to the camera. He had her pinned to the sofa, dressed only in her underwear, kissing her passionately. “Baby, you smell so good today.” Chloe’s pale arm was wrapped around his neck. “Kane,” she purred, “who gets you more excited, me or my sister?” Kane gave her lips a tender kiss. “Baby, she’s a woman with blood on her hands and a body full of scars. How can she compare to you? If it weren’t for the fact that her father’s old crew is still useful, I’d find it disgusting to even touch her.” As he spoke, one of his hands slid lower. Chloe let out a playful protest. “Hey, stop it, I just gave it to you yesterday…” “Yes, and I hate it…” Kane’s voice was a low, husky growl. The sounds of their breathing grew heavier as their bodies twisted together. My heart felt like it had been ripped open. The pain was unbearable. In that moment, I finally snapped. I smashed our wedding photo against the floor. I destroyed everything in the room. While Kane was away, I stormed into Chloe’s apartment, grabbed her by the hair, and slapped her dozens of times. Then, I used the connections my father had spent a lifetime building and reported all of Kane’s illegal activities and violent crimes to the city police. I was going to drag him down from his throne and turn him back into the begging, worthless orphan he was. But reality delivered another crushing blow. With a single phone call, Kane made all my reports disappear into thin air. Instead, I was the one charged with “malicious slander and public disturbance.” The day before I was taken into custody, Kane came to see me. His voice was calm and cold. “Li, give up. You can’t beat me. I have connections on both sides of the law now. I’m not the same street punk who needed your father’s help to survive.” He paused, a hint of pity in his tone. “But, for the sake of our past, if you admit you were wrong and promise not to bother Chloe again, you can still be my wife in name. Out of respect for what your parents did for me, I won’t treat you poorly.” But I was young and proud. How could I endure my husband loving another woman? I screamed at him, calling him a heartless, ungrateful dog. If it weren’t for me, he would have frozen to death in the snow. Perhaps my words stung him, or perhaps he really wanted to teach me a lesson for Chloe’s sake. Kane signed the detention papers without hesitation. The days in the holding cell were far worse than I had ever imagined. It was dark, damp, and the air was a permanent, nauseating mixture of sweat, body odor, and rancid food. A dozen people were crammed into a tiny room, where we ate, slept, and relieved ourselves. The bunk I was assigned was right next to the toilet, perpetually reeking of urine. Our daily meals consisted of a watery soup with a few rotting vegetable leaves and hard, stale buns that could break your teeth. Just as I was on the verge of a complete breakdown, Kane had me released. Because in the holding cell, they discovered I was pregnant. 5 After getting out, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the men were looking at me strangely. I finally asked and found out what had happened. When my father heard about what Kane had done to me, he went to him that very night, begging him to let me go. When Kane refused, they argued, and it turned violent. On his way home, my father was hit and killed by a runaway truck. Grief-stricken and furious, my brother, seeking justice, had Chloe kidnapped. But the men Kane sent to rescue her “accidentally” shot and killed him. My mother, who already had a weak heart, couldn’t handle the successive blows. Her heart gave out, and she was gone too. When I learned the truth, I felt like my soul had been ripped from my body. I stopped fighting. I stopped caring about Kane and Chloe. I spent my days curled up in my room, an empty puppet consumed by the overwhelming grief of losing my family. Kane came to see me, a rare visit. He held my hand and apologized. “Li, I’m so sorry about your parents and your brother. I never wanted to hurt them.” He placed his hand on my stomach. “We have a child now. For the sake of this child, please, let’s stop fighting.” Tears streamed down my face. This time, I chose silence. Not for him, but for the tiny life inside me. My parents and brother were gone because of me. This piece of my own flesh and blood became the only reason I had left to live. The ordeal had broken my spirit. After staying with me for a few days, Kane quickly returned to Chloe’s side. He even rented out a private island to throw a lavish wedding for her. When I saw the two of them on that island, exchanging vows of eternal love, I broke all over again. When Kane and I got married, I didn’t even have a proper wedding dress. When I told him I wanted a big wedding, he said, “Li, ceremonies are just formalities. Besides, you know how much I hate all that fuss.” Because I loved him, I compromised. And because I loved him, I lost everything. The emotions I had suppressed for so long finally erupted. I couldn’t stay by his side any longer. Just as I was preparing to leave, Chloe found me, dressed in her pristine white wedding gown. Her face was a mask of triumph. “Clara, your father didn’t have to die. But he was so entitled, trying to use his past favors to threaten Kane into releasing you. Things aren’t that simple. So I sent some people to teach him a little lesson. Who knew he’d be so fragile? He died on the spot.” “As for your brother, he dared to kidnap me. So Kane had no choice but to send him on his way!” Chloe’s words were the final straw. I lost my mind. I grabbed her, and pulled her with me as I jumped from the third-story window. The moment Kane rushed outside, I couldn’t see his expression clearly. I only saw him, without a moment’s hesitation, catch the screaming Chloe while I slammed into the ground. Through the searing pain, I felt a hot rush of liquid from between my legs. A tiny life, slipping away from my body. My leg was shattered, the baby was gone, and the last flicker of my will to live was extinguished. But I didn’t die. Kane had his men rush me to the hospital. Everyone said I had gone insane. But I knew with perfect clarity that I was not. When Kane came to visit me, I lunged at him with a fruit knife. My family had paid with three lives. This time, Kane didn’t hesitate. He called the police. I was sentenced to three years for assault. A set of divorce papers soon followed. Kane finally got what he wanted. He was free to be with Chloe, legally and publicly. I was released early for good behavior. With the meager compensation I received, I left the territory under Kane’s control. I came to Southport and opened a small dessert shop. Life was hard, but for my parents and my brother, I forced myself to live. To live until I could find a way to avenge them. To live until I could see their murderers burn in hell. … A chill wind brought me back to the present. I bowed my head one last time to the headstone, bidding my family farewell. I was about to stand and leave. But as I turned, I saw him. A short distance away, Kane was watching me, his expression impossible to read.

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When my biological parents found me, I was setting up my fortune-telling stall on the street side. “Don’t marry within three years, or you’ll ruin your luck,” I told a customer. They didn’t seem to expect this to be my profession. They just stood there in a row, silent, until my brother, Julian, scoffed. I glanced at him and said, “No charge if it’s not accurate. Want a reading, sir?” My mother’s tears fell instantly. “Child, I’m your mother. Come home with us.” I looked at them, and four words floated into my mind: “Dark aura, impending doom.” 1 I packed up my folding table, compass, pen, and yellow paper, stuffing them into the small cart beside me. “I need to go home and pack my things. It’s messy inside, so wait out here.” Mom insisted on following me, so the rest had to tag along. The four of them followed me into the dirty alley. Rats scurried past occasionally, and I heard retching sounds from behind. “Can people actually live here?” I stopped and turned back. “Sure. I’ve lived here for over ten years.” Julian’s face changed colors. I ignored him and kept walking until I reached a small red door. I pushed it open. The furnishings were simple: a stove, a table, and an old electric fan. I opened the door to the side room and started packing my clothes from the wardrobe. Julian covered his nose. “Why bring these rags? We’ll buy you new ones at home.” Before I could speak, a crowd of neighbors burst into the room, surrounding the Sterling family. “You must be Mia’s family. You have to treat her well; she’s suffered a lot.” “You look rich. Why did it take you so long to find Mia?” “Heard you have an adopted daughter at home. Wonder how she’ll treat Mia?” I had no parents; these neighbors and my Master raised me. They were happy I was leaving but also reluctant to see me go. Auntie May started stuffing things into my arms. “These are clothes we bought for you. Don’t wear the old ones; you need new clothes for your new home.” Soon, my arms were full of bags. The corner of a bag accidentally brushed Mom. She flinched as if repulsed, then, seeing my gaze, awkwardly tried to help me carry them. I said no need, and she didn’t insist. The others probably thought the bags were dirty and made no move to help. My neighbors helped me move the luggage to the car. I hugged my small yellow bag and sat in the back seat. Julian frowned. “You’re not bringing these unlucky things home, are you? There’s no space for this junk.” Mom slapped him hard. “Is that how you talk to your sister?” I looked up at them. “Then I won’t go back.” I reached for the door handle. Julian froze, seemingly surprised, and opened his mouth but said nothing. It was my older brother, Lucas, who spoke. “Julian, apologize.” Julian reluctantly muttered, “Sorry.” In the car, Mom started asking how I had been living, saying I had suffered all these years. The term “biological parents” was foreign to me. I didn’t even have adoptive parents. When traffickers almost broke my arm, it was Master who rammed into them and snatched me back. I answered whatever Mom asked, but the atmosphere was weird. I looked at Chloe, who was sobbing non-stop. “Is this person also a Sterling child?” Seeing my gaze, Julian said angrily, “You just came back and you want to kick Chloe out! Even if you’re back, we won’t send Chloe away!” Lucas explained, “Chloe has lived with us for so long; we have feelings for her. We’ll treat you as family too, but please don’t target Chloe.” Chloe’s eyes were red. “Sorry, sister. I didn’t know about any of this. If you don’t want to see me, I can move out.” My gaze swept across their faces. “I didn’t say anything, did I? I just asked if she was a Sterling child.” They realized they had overreacted. Mom hurriedly smoothed things over. “Chloe is the child who was switched with you back then. Mia, you’re the older sister now, and Chloe is your younger sister.” I lacked the water element in my horoscope, so Master named me Mia (meaning “ocean” or “water”). I nodded and said nothing more. Chloe’s sobbing annoyed me, so I closed my eyes to rest. After a bumpy ride, we arrived at the Sterling mansion. When we got out, no one helped me with my luggage. The four of them walked into the house before realizing they had left me behind. Mom ran back out. Our eyes met. I ignored her and walked straight in. Seeing me walk in alone, their faces didn’t look good. Julian, who had been wiping Chloe’s tears, crumpled the tissue in his hand. Lucas scolded the maids. “Miss just came back, why didn’t anyone help her with her luggage?” I watched him shift the blame. “No need. I can carry it myself.” Mom looked even more guilty. “Mia, your room isn’t ready yet. You’ll have to stay on the first floor for now.” I nodded and asked, “Do the three of them live on the second floor?” Julian scoffed. “Just got back and already eyeing the second floor.” Chloe hurriedly pulled him. “Sister, Julian is immature. He just grew up with me and feels close. If you want, I can give you my room on the second floor.” I shook my head. “No need. I don’t want to live where you’ve lived. It affects my luck.” I ignored their reactions and went to my room. At dinner, the maid called me out. They were already seated, leaving a spot next to Chloe for me. Chloe called me “Sister” sweetly. I looked at her. Her mother was the one who switched us. If not for Master, I would have died long ago. With these feelings, I couldn’t smile at her. Chloe looked awkwardly at her bowl, her eyes reddening. Lucas looked at me. “Mia, Chloe is calling you.” I didn’t stop eating. The spoon in my left hand fell into the bowl. “I heard her. Just didn’t want to answer.” Hearing the clatter, Lucas frowned. “Where are your manners? Is this how your Master and those people taught you?” They can say whatever about me, but not about Auntie May and the others. “Who are ‘those people’? You make me eat at the same table as a thief and ask about my manners?” Hearing this, Chloe’s tears fell into her rice. Julian couldn’t stand seeing her cry. “What’s with your attitude! Chloe knew you were coming back and bought you lots of gifts!” “Gifts?” I put down my chopsticks. “You weren’t the one switched. You weren’t the one thrown in a trash can. You don’t know how cold it is to wear a thin shirt in winter. While I was wandering the streets, people tried to break my arm to make me a disabled beggar.” I rolled up my sleeve, revealing several obvious scars on my arm, some deeply indented. It was clear the spoon fell because of my arm injury. Lucas’s face changed, but he swallowed his apology. Mom was shocked; she didn’t expect my life to have been so hard. Dad couldn’t hide his grief. “Mia, let Lucas take you for a checkup tomorrow.” I shook my head. “No need. Master took me to see a doctor. This arm can move, but can’t do much else. So sorry, brother. When I was little, I only cared about eating and surviving. No one taught me manners, only how to live. I don’t deserve to sit at the same table with you. I’m full, you guys continue.” Lucas stood up. “It was my fault for misunderstanding you. Sorry.” I turned back. “What if I said, this house can only have one of us?” Julian clearly wanted to argue but shut up remembering the scars on my arm. Mom became mute. Dad said seriously, “We raised her for over ten years. If we send her away just because we found our biological daughter, what will outsiders think of the Sterling family? Mia, I hope you can get along with Chloe.” I looked at the family one last time. “What if you had to choose?” No one answered. I left feeling bored. The next day, I woke up hungry. I hadn’t even had a full meal on my first day here. I put on the new clothes Auntie May bought me: bright green with a cat print. When I went out, the family was up. Julian’s shocked gaze hadn’t left my clothes since I emerged. He stifled a laugh. “What are you wearing?” I tugged at my clothes. “New, no patches, unworn. What’s wrong?” Julian stopped laughing, thinking of my past, and awkwardly picked up his phone. Lucas handed me a glass of milk. I sipped it slowly. Mom called me to eat. I looked and shook my head. “I’m allergic to eggs.” Mom looked awkwardly at the egg noodles on the table and hurriedly asked the maid to cook a new bowl. After eating the noodles, my hunger subsided. After breakfast, Mom gave me ten thousand dollars to buy clothes. Perhaps because of earlier, Julian volunteered to take me. Chloe froze. “Julian, aren’t you going with me to pick up the jewelry I ordered today?” Julian said “Ah,” looked between us, and walked to my side. “Sorry, Chloe. Mia has no friends here. Ask your bestie to go with you.” Julian went to get the car, leaving Chloe and me at the door. 2 She had a manicure, nails sparkling in the light. “Sister, want to get one too?” Then she looked at my hands with disdain. “Forget it. Some people aren’t born to eat rich people’s food. Right, sister?” I just looked at her without answering. Creeped out by my stare, she muttered “bad luck” and left in the driver’s car. Julian drove over. Seeing me still standing there, he unexpectedly got out and opened the door for me. I sat in and raised my right hand. “I still have one usable hand.” He scratched his head. “Who cares. I was afraid you’d scratch my car.” The mall was huge. I had never seen such a big place. I stared at the entrance a bit too long, and Julian pushed me impatiently. “Stop looking, let’s go.” Halfway through, he left, leaving me alone in a store. I picked a few cheap clothes, paid, and went next door to buy some plus-size clothes for Auntie May and the others. Thinking about it, I used the remaining money to buy a gift for everyone in the Sterling family. I waited at the mall entrance until 2 PM, but Julian didn’t return. I bought a three-dollar bun from a nearby convenience store to fill my stomach. At 5 PM, a call finally came through. It was a strange number, but I picked up. It was Mom. “Mia, Chloe hurt her leg and is in the hospital. Take a taxi back yourself.” I said “Okay” and hung up. I didn’t have enough money for a taxi to the Sterling mansion, so I asked the driver to stop and walked back. Hungry and thirsty, I arrived home. Everyone was there, even Dad who was usually busy working. Seeing me, Chloe smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sister. Julian couldn’t pick you up because of me. I told Mom and Dad not to come, but they insisted. Luckily it’s just a sprain, or they would have worried.” I looked at her foot wrapped in thin gauze. Chloe popped a grape into her mouth. “Tired from walking all day, sister? Sit down and have some grapes.” The maid took my bags and exclaimed, “These must be gifts for the Master and Madam! Oh, and for the young masters and miss.” They seemed surprised. Mom came over, took the bags, and took things out one by one. Chloe looked sullen but forced a smile. “Probably nothing for me. It’s okay, it’s expected that sister doesn’t like me.” Mom took everything out. Five items, exactly. Chloe’s smile froze. Mom seemed to realize something. She laid out everything I bought: cheap clothes, plus-size ones definitely not for me, plus the gifts. Mom paused and asked, “Mia, how did you get back?” As if to confirm her guess, the maid pointed at my foot. “Miss’s foot is bleeding!” I looked back. The skin on my heel was rubbed raw, staining the white sock blood red. Julian jumped up to get the first aid kit. Lucas helped me sit on the sofa and carefully took off my shoe. But the sock was stuck to my flesh. I ignored him and tore the sock off my skin. Lucas frowned; Mom gasped and covered her mouth. Blood dripped down, forming a small pool on the floor. Chloe’s face changed colors. The maid hurriedly brought a towel for my foot. Julian carefully dabbed iodine on the wound. I snatched it and poured it directly on the wound, wrapping it haphazardly with gauze because my left hand was clumsy. Mom couldn’t watch. “Get a doctor for Mia quickly.” Lucas grabbed my hand. “Stop wrapping, wait for the doctor.” I finished wrapping, ignored everyone, said “No need, I’m tired,” and went back to my room. 3 I was woken by knocking. Faintly, I heard, “Did she faint? Kick the door down!” It was Mom’s voice. I limped over to open the door. Mom stood outside, followed by a doctor in a white coat. “Mia, come eat. Let the doctor look at your foot.” The atmosphere in the living room was serious. The argument hadn’t ended when I arrived. Chloe’s eyes were red. It turned out Dad had scolded her. Julian, unusually, didn’t defend his sister. Seeing me, he stood up hurriedly, at a loss for words. “Are you okay?” I didn’t answer and let the doctor bandage my foot. After dinner, Julian followed me around. If I wanted to watch TV but couldn’t work the remote, he helped me. If I moved, he put fruit in my hand. After I ate the fourth orange, another peeled one was extended to me. I glanced at Julian. “Eat it yourself.” Julian awkwardly retracted his hand. “Um…” “I…” Our voices overlapped. I looked at him. “You first.” Julian put the orange in my hand anyway and said, “Sorry about today. I didn’t mean to leave you at the mall. I went to the pharmacy, but Chloe called saying she was hurt and wouldn’t say how bad. At the hospital, I found out it was just a sprain, but she insisted I stay. I couldn’t leave her alone.” Thinking of leaving me at the mall, he blushed and said, “Sorry.” He seemed to be waiting for my reaction. “I won’t forgive you.” His head lowered further. “But I don’t blame you either. You asked Mom to call me, right?” He nodded hesitantly. He was the only one in the family who had asked for my number. A few days later, my foot healed. Mom transferred money to me again, saying she’d accompany me shopping. I shook my head. “Let Julian go with me.” Julian jumped up from the sofa. “I’ll go with sister!” Ignoring Chloe’s green face, he ran to the garage. Lucas said, “I’ll go too. He’s young and unreliable.” Chloe cried out, “Who will go with me for my checkup today? My foot still hurts.” Mom noticed her other daughter. “Chloe, Mom will go with you.” Chloe stomped her foot angrily. “I don’t want to! I want brothers to go with me!” She realized Mom’s face had darkened. Lucas didn’t look happy either. “Your foot looks fine. No need for a checkup. If you must go, let the driver take you.” Chloe cried, but no one comforted her this time. I refused Mom and Lucas, only taking Julian. In the car, Julian hummed happily. at a red light, he pulled something from his pocket. “Here, sister. Scar removal cream. I got it from the hospital specially. It’s a private formula from an expert, very expensive!” I didn’t expect this. Struggling internally, I asked, “Do you have money?” Julian nodded. “Yeah. If you need money, ask Mom and Dad. I don’t have much. Why, trouble?” I shook my head. “No. How much do you have? Can you give me twenty thousand?” Julian paused, then took out his phone to transfer money without hesitation. I stopped him, rubbing the text on the cream tube. “Julian, when did you get your driver’s license?” Surprised by the topic change, he answered obediently, “This March.” I nodded and asked, “Are you going hiking with friends this Saturday?” He was shocked. “How did you know? I haven’t told the family.” I looked at him. “Don’t go.” Julian said “Ah” and asked, “Why? We already planned it.” I said again, “I also know it’s four of you. Don’t go.” Julian was even more surprised but, seeing my serious expression, reluctantly agreed. “Okay.” I nodded. “You can transfer the money now.” He transferred it reluctantly this time. He only cheered up when I bought him a bracelet. 4 Back home, he happily helped me organize my purchases. Chloe walked over with a plate of cut apples. “Julian, tired? Have some fruit.” Julian ate a piece and stabbed one for me. “Thanks, Chloe.” Chloe stood there. I saw a band-aid on her left index finger and understood immediately. But Julian didn’t notice. She put down the plate and glared at me. I ignored her and ate the apple. Chloe noticed the cheap bracelet on Julian’s wrist. “Where did you get that cheap thing? Aren’t you afraid of getting dirty?” The bracelet was indeed cheap, but it had a good meaning: safety and protection. I didn’t tell Julian the price, and he didn’t ask, putting it on next to his expensive watch without disdain. Chloe grabbed his hand. “Careful, it might scratch the watch I gave you.” She tried to take it off. Julian pulled away. “Mia bought this for me. It’s definitely not cheap.” Chloe looked at me provocatively. “Is it?” I smiled frankly. “It wasn’t expensive. A few hundred bucks.” Chloe looked at the bracelet with disdain and reached for it again. Julian protected it. “I’ll wear it even if it’s cheap. Don’t worry, Chloe. Mia wouldn’t harm me.” Chloe looked at me angrily, as if complaining I stole her brother. But he was my brother to begin with. At dinner, Chloe brought up Julian’s hiking trip. “Julian, can I come? One more person won’t matter.” I knew Chloe wanted to butt in because she saw Julian and me getting close. Mom put a piece of braised pork in my bowl. “Take Mia too.” Chloe frowned but quickly recovered. “But the car only seats five. No room for Mia.” I shook my head. “No need. I’m not going. Julian isn’t going either.” Julian nodded. “Right, I have something else to do Saturday. Not going hiking. Chloe, if you want to go, I’ll tell them.” Chloe said “Ah” and looked at me, forcing a smile. “Why not? Didn’t you plan it last week?” Julian said carelessly, “Just don’t want to.” Chloe sensed my involvement and sneered. “Did Mia use her fortune-telling stuff to predict some bad omen for you?” Dad frowned, speaking up at the dinner table for the first time. “Is that true, Mia?” I nodded. Their expressions grew serious. Mom was unusually stern. “Mia, don’t mention these things at home. We don’t believe in this. Julian, go if you want to. Don’t believe in bad omens.” Julian looked at me worriedly. “Okay. But you wronged Mia. She didn’t calculate those things.” I interrupted Julian. “I did. If Julian goes out this Saturday, there will be a bloody disaster.” Dad slammed his chopsticks on the table. “Mention this again and get out!” Dad was breathing heavily with anger. Lucas patted his back. Mom started crying. Julian put down his bowl and wiped Mom’s tears. Chloe leaned close to Mom, but her eyes were on me, full of triumphant malice. In this atmosphere, I spoke calmly. “Is it because of the little sister who died at five?” Silence fell. Dad’s face turned iron blue, and he threw a plate at me. “Since you know, why give Julian readings? People like you killed Lily!” Mom sobbed continuously. “Mia, throw those things away, okay?” Lucas signaled me to go throw the stuff away immediately. I didn’t move. Chloe said angrily, “You know how much these things hurt the family, yet you still play tricks and fool Julian!” Julian raised his hand tentatively. “Um, I didn’t tell Mia about this.” They didn’t say it, naturally assuming Julian told me.

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At our engagement party, my twin sister intentionally wore a dress identical to mine. She asked my fiancé to guess which one was me. Lucas smiled confidently: “I could never mistake my baby.” But that night, I saw him and my sister in the wine cellar, kissing passionately. When caught, he knelt before me, crying: “Cynthia, I didn’t mean to. I mistook her for you. You two look too much alike!” My sister calmly picked up her discarded black lace lingerie from the floor. “Sister, don’t misunderstand. I just wanted to test my brother-in-law’s loyalty for you. I felt he really loves you; he almost devoured me.” She even deliberately revealed a fresh hickey on her neck. Three months later, my sister crashed my wedding with a pregnancy test report. My parents looked heartbroken. “Things have come to this; there’s no other way. Let… let your sister have this marriage!” I smiled bitterly, accepting it, then turned to face the seven groomsmen present. “My wedding is missing a groom. Who wants to fill the spot?” 1 As soon as the words left my lips, the seven groomsmen scrambled to raise their hands. Some even stood on chairs, afraid I would overlook them. “Pick me! Pick me!” “Cynthia, I can be your groom!” “And me! I’m the one who suits you best…” Until Ethan stepped forward. “Let’s draw lots.” The wedding scene, which had been awkward and tense, suddenly became lively again. Ethan had someone prepare seven straws and looked around. “There are six long straws and one short one here. Whoever draws the short one gets to be Cynthia’s groom.” I found a seat with interest and watched them draw lots. The guests’ gazes fell on me. “I didn’t expect Cynthia to be so lucky, having so many suitors fighting to marry her.” “I bet Lucas, who just backed out of the marriage, is regretting it now.” My sister, Chloe, clenched her fists in anger. “Lucas, my sister is doing this on purpose to get back at us.” “Mom and Dad clearly said to let us get married first today. Why is she making a scene here? It’s like this has become her show.” Lucas, however, looked lazy and unconcerned. “What are you afraid of? Those groomsmen are my best buddies. I know them best. They’re definitely fighting to marry Cynthia as a prank, just for fun.” “A used shoe like her, how could they treat her like a treasure? They’re just teasing a cat.” His words fell into my ears, and I curled my lips in a cold sneer. He didn’t know yet. The seven groomsmen had been secretly pursuing me behind his back. Three months ago, Lucas complained about me in a VIP room at a bar. “Cynthia is so boring, like a dead fish. Not nearly as sexy as Chloe.” “They’re twins, but Chloe’s eyes are so seductive. I even want to sleep with her to try it out. I won’t be satisfied until I get her.” Two months ago, Lucas bragged in their group chat. “Finally got her. I hooked up with Chloe behind Cynthia’s back several times, even went to hotels, and she had no idea.” And last time, after being caught by me, Lucas thought he had deceived me well and went to the group chat to boast again. “Cynthia, that idiot, I tricked her into thinking I mistook the person and kissed her sister, and she actually believed it.” “In the future, even if she’s sleeping in the bedroom, Chloe and I could make out right under her nose, and she probably wouldn’t notice…” Every time he said these things. Someone would immediately forward them to me. And fight for credit. “Cynthia, I should be the first one to tip you off this time, right?” “Lucas is such a scumbag. You should have kicked him to the curb long ago. Let me take his place, okay?” “Besides, he hooked up with your sister long ago. A jerk like that should have been dumped ages ago.” “I’m different from him. I’ve been loyal from the start, only liking you all these years, even going undercover for you.” “Let me take over, let me take over.” “And me!” … Thinking of this, a light smile appeared on my face. At the same time, the result of the seven groomsmen drawing lots came out. “I drew the short straw.” The corners of Ethan’s mouth turned up. The other six immediately protested, “Ethan, you cheated!” “Exactly, how could it be you? You’re too lucky!” “This round doesn’t count, re-draw!” Ethan ignored them and raised his hand to signal the bodyguards to maintain order. The other six groomsmen instantly wilted. “Damn, knew this would happen. The six of us were delusional. Who can compete with the heir of the Hunt family?” “And Ethan is the most devoted. He’s crazy enough to do anything to chase Cynthia. How could he let this opportunity slip?” “Forget it, forget it. Let’s just be good groomsmen.” Under everyone’s gaze, Ethan walked towards me with a shallow smile and extended his hand. “Come, I am your groom.” 2 I handed my hand to him. Just as I was about to turn and go on stage, Ethan suddenly stopped. “Wait.” He looked at the wedding dress I was wearing, frowned, and took out his phone to call his assistant on the spot. “Air freight that wedding dress I personally designed two years ago immediately.” The moment the phone screen went dark. I saw Ethan’s lock screen wallpaper. It was a very revealing photo of me, revealing enough to make one blush. If I remember correctly, that photo was only sent to Lucas. He always sent my photos to the group chat to show off to his good buddies, boasting about his conquest. And took pride in it. It’s a pity Lucas was stupid enough not to know that these “brothers” were like hungry wolves, all coveting his girlfriend. Ethan was the most frenzied one. Every time Lucas posted a photo of me, he frantically screenshot and saved it. He even set it as his lock screen wallpaper. I heard this from other groomsmen. I thought they were joking, but I didn’t expect it to be true. While waiting for the wedding dress, my parents frowned and tried to drive me away. “Cynthia, marriage is a major life event, not a game. How can you just pick a groom randomly and get married?” “Since you’re not getting married today, give the wedding venue to your sister. Let her and Lucas get married quickly.” I sneered, “Who said I’m not getting married?” In front of everyone, I took Ethan’s arm. “My husband just sent someone to get the dress.” My parents frowned again, lowering their voices to persuade me. “Stop messing around. Your sister is pregnant; she can’t wait.” “If you keep making a scene like this, both you sisters will become a joke. You’re the older sister; be sensible.” My dad also looked stern, scolding me for being ignorant. Self-mockery rose in my eyes. It was precisely because I had been too sensible all these years. Whatever Chloe wanted, she could snatch away smoothly. Even my fiancé. If she wanted to play, she could just crook her finger and lead him to bed. Now she crashed my wedding with a pregnancy test report, kneeling on the ground looking pitiful, begging me. “Sister, I just found out I’m pregnant with Lucas’s child. It was because he got drunk and accidentally mistook me for you.” Lucas also looked pained. “Chloe is pregnant with my child; I have to be responsible. Cynthia, I can’t marry you.” Actually, I knew long ago. He found me rigid and boring and didn’t want to marry me at all. That’s why he staged this drama with Chloe. Now facing my mom’s questioning, I spoke coldly: “What do I have to be afraid of being laughed at? The one who got pregnant out of wedlock is the joke.” Saying this, I looked at Lucas again. “And some people who can’t control their lower body are also jokes.” Fire flashed in Lucas’s eyes. “Cynthia, who are you cursing?” “I said it was just an accident.” He looked me up and down with a sneer. “You couldn’t handle the situation, so you did this on purpose, right? As long as you kneel and beg me, I’ll let my buddy marry you.” A condescending and charitable tone. As if his buddies would listen to him just because he said so. Ethan was about to speak up for me, but I stopped him in time. I gently spat out two words. “Dream on.” Lucas’s face instantly became extremely ugly. He gave a sinister smile and sat back down. “Then I want to see how you end this today.” Ten minutes later, a commotion came from outside the wedding venue. Ethan’s assistant pushed the door open and entered. “Mr. Hunt, the wedding dress you asked for is here!” 3 As soon as the voice fell, everyone looked towards the door with envy. “Oh my god, Mr. Hunt is too generous, actually air freighting it by helicopter.” “Am I seeing this right? Isn’t this the wedding dress that won awards at International Fashion Week two years ago?” “Heard it’s worth millions. Didn’t expect to see it at today’s wedding. Miss Jiang is really lucky.” Ethan personally brought the wedding dress to me and asked me to change into it. His voice was even gentler than the faint smile on his face. “The wedding the Miller family prepared for you is too shabby. Only this set is worthy of you.” I nodded, went to the fitting room to change into the wedding dress, and reappeared in front of everyone. The guests gasped. “Oh my god, this is too beautiful.” “Simply a princess from a fairy tale alive. Sure enough, clothes make the man. This million-dollar wedding dress looks good on anyone!” Chloe stood up in disbelief, clenching her fists, staring at me intently. “This wedding dress must be a fake.” She deceived herself like this. Her voice wasn’t loud, but the groomsmen next to her heard it. Those groomsmen looked her up and down and sneered. “Your shoes are probably fake, even your bracelet is fake. Think everyone is like you?” Although Chloe is my twin sister, her seducing Lucas behind my back made them lose all good will towards her. They even secretly called her a “vixen.” My parents looked at me with jealousy. “How do you deserve to wear such a good wedding dress? Take it off!” “Today is your sister’s wedding, don’t join the fun.” I ignored them and walked past. My mom actually wanted to strip my wedding dress. Before she could touch me, she was stopped by the bodyguards behind Ethan. “If you dare to touch Miss Cynthia again, don’t blame Mr. Hunt for throwing you out.” Complex gazes came from behind, but I turned a blind eye. Now no one blocked the way. Ethan and I held hands and walked up the high platform together, exchanging rings under the host’s guidance. Seeing that we had no intention of joking. The smile on Lucas’s face slowly faded. Until the host asked us to kiss, and people around also cheered, “Kiss, kiss!” Lucas stood up abruptly with a pale face. “Enough!” “Ethan, acting to this point is enough. I know you, my good brother, are venting anger for me. Let’s stop here.” 4 Ethan looked up at him coldly. “You think I’m acting with you?” He sneered. “Marrying Cynthia… for this day, I have waited for five full years.” Lucas was stunned. “What do you mean?” Ethan didn’t explain further. Just then, Chloe stood up with a smile, looking at Ethan with seductive eyes. “You must have mistaken me for someone else, Mr. Hunt. You must be my fan too, right?” “Although my sister Cynthia looks exactly like me, she’s not as interesting as I am.” Chloe looked arrogant, like a little princess. She is a minor influencer with over 200,000 followers. She often posts videos of herself dancing online, occasionally showing some skin in live broadcasts, attracting many straight male fans. Wherever she goes, she thinks men are crazy about her. Even seducing Lucas was to prove her charm. She knew that during the five years Lucas and I dated, I rarely interacted with other men, so she thought Ethan made a mistake and the person he wanted to marry was her. Ethan sneered and didn’t speak. Chloe stood up again, looking around at the several groomsmen. “I know you guys are all qualified extras. Seeing your eyes glued to my sister just now, you must have treated her as my stand-in.” “In your online life, you must be my fans. Since we met today, I can give you an autograph.” “For my sake, don’t embarrass my sister anymore. If you keep coaxing her like this, she’ll take it seriously.” But these words were met with eye rolls from everyone. “Who are you? Such a big tone.” “Exactly, the person we’re chasing is Cynthia. Who has heard of you, Chloe? Like a fox, affected and pretentious.” “There are so many plastic surgery girls imitating Cynthia now. Who knows if you are a perverted scheming plastic surgery girl.” Chloe’s smile froze on her face. “What… what did you say?” She pretended to be calm on the surface, but she was about to explode inside. When had she ever suffered such anger? Her eyes turned red with anger, but she couldn’t swallow this breath. She pointed at Ethan’s phone in public and shouted: “The person Ethan likes must be me.” “If you don’t believe it, you can look at Mr. Hunt’s phone. His wallpaper is set to my photo!” As soon as these words came out, everyone’s eyes turned to Ethan. Even the guests gasped. “Is there another inside story?” “This Chloe really has some tricks. Why do the men Cynthia chooses always fall in love with her?” “Comparisons are odious. This is probably the charm of a woman…” Chloe listened to the discussions around her, becoming arrogant again. She felt there was no man she couldn’t conquer. Ethan was the famous heir of the Hunt family. If she could conquer him, Chloe would definitely kick Lucas away. She revealed a pair of wet doe eyes, looking at Ethan. “Mr. Hunt, do you dare to show your phone wallpaper to everyone?” Ethan turned his head to look at me, his gentle eyes seeming to ask. I nodded. “What’s there to dare?” Ethan took a step forward, took out his phone, and turned on the screen. Chloe, who was still triumphant, froze the moment she saw the wallpaper clearly. She bit her lower lip hard, unwillingness flashing in the corner of her eyes. Even though we twins look exactly the same. Strangers can’t tell, but we know each other too well and can recognize each other at a glance. The person in the photo wasn’t Chloe. It was me. “How is this possible?” Lucas exclaimed and rushed forward. He stared wide-eyed, fixated on the wallpaper on Ethan’s phone screen. “Ethan! Why did you set my wife’s photo as wallpaper?” He rushed up emotionally out of control, suddenly grabbing Ethan’s collar. “Don’t touch a friend’s wife. When did you have thoughts about my wife? Or…” He realized suddenly and looked at me sharply. “This wedding today wasn’t random; you did it on purpose?!”

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When the rockstar Liam Shaw was asked about his love life on a talk show, his first thought was of me. “Did Ava Reed pay you guys?” he scoffed. “Are you that desperate to ship me with her?” He leaned into the mic, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll give her this, she’s persistent. Chased me for two years straight. She’s obviously head over heels for me, but she plays these weird games, telling me I should treat her with respect, like… like she’s my sister-in-law or something.” The internet immediately erupted in a chorus of mockery aimed at me. [Ava Reed, the industry’s prettiest face, is just another one of Liam Shaw’s simps. How pathetic.] [Sister-in-law? What kind of weird kink is that? Ava’s really trying everything.] The live comments were a torrent of insults until one of Liam’s die-hard fans dropped a bomb. [Hold on, doesn’t Liam actually have a brother?] At that exact moment, I was at home, watching the livestream. And my phone rang. It was a call I hadn’t received in a very long time. “Ava,” a deep, familiar voice said. “I’ll be back in the States in three days. Thank you for looking after my little brother for me.” 1 Liam saw that comment on the monitor and immediately shook his head. “Get your minds out of the gutter. My brother’s been overseas for years. How would Ava even know him?” he said, dismissing it with a wave. “Besides, my brother told me a long time ago he has a girlfriend.” The die-hard fan replied: [Maybe… Ava is that girlfriend?] The internet, never one to pass up good drama, seized on this. A secret romance with the mysterious older brother was infinitely more exciting than a one-sided crush. The trolls and shippers immediately started fanning the flames. User #1: [To be fair, Ava might not be the best actress, but that face is a 10/10. And that body? Damn.] User #2: [I’m calling it. She’s the real sister-in-law.] Liam let out a cold, humorless laugh. “My brother said his girlfriend is the definition of perfection. Is Ava Reed perfect?” He started counting on his fingers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, Ava’s got a pretty face, flawless skin, a killer body, and a smile that could stop traffic, but besides all that, what else does she have going for her!” He was getting worked up, his voice rising until he slammed his hand on the table, making the host jump. The live chat went into overdrive. User #3: [Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my friend.] User #1: [Bro, you just listed, like, a dozen good qualities.] Die-hard Fan: [I hear the sound of my idol’s world crashing down.] Seeing the tide turn, Liam’s smirk faltered slightly, but his gaze remained defiant. “Let me be clear. I could never fall for Ava Reed. You can all relax. I’m not interested in girls who play these kinds of manipulative games.” He then added, as a final, definitive statement, “And neither is my brother!” 2 After hanging up, I went back to the livestream, marveling at the internet’s detective skills. They’d somehow sniffed out the truth from two throwaway lines. When Liam declared with absolute certainty that he could never like me, a wave of relief washed over me. Good. That would save us a lot of awkward family dinners down the road. As for his narcissism, I was well acquainted with it. Ever since we were kids, if a girl so much as glanced at him twice, he’d run home and tell his brother he had another secret admirer. He’d complain about the “curse of his own charisma.” So I didn’t take his ridiculous statements personally. The kid was born self-obsessed. But that last thing he said… I had to disagree. His brother wasn’t just interested. He was completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love. I glanced down at my phone, which was buzzing incessantly. As expected, my social media was under siege. The consensus was that I was a frog trying to eat swan meat. I was the frog, Liam was the swan. Honestly, I think they had it backward. Sure, I was known as the industry’s most famous “pretty face,” with zero acting talent to my name. But that face alone had made me an overnight sensation. Liam, on the other hand, had to grind for two years to make a name for himself as a musician. If anyone was the swan here, it was me. But I’ve never cared much for fame. I only got into showbiz to keep an eye on Liam, to make sure he didn’t get into trouble. It was a promise I’d made. He, however, seemed to have completely missed the point of my “doting care.” Just then, my phone rang again. It was Liam, calling me live on the air. I looked at the TV screen. His face was a mask of annoyance. “Ava Reed,” he said, not bothering with pleasantries. “The show is making us invite the last person we called to be a guest at ‘The Hideaway.’ Are you coming or not?” “The Hideaway” was the reality show he was currently filming, broadcast 24/7 via livestream. The producers were notorious for stirring up drama, which was why it had millions of viewers just after its premiere, with numbers still climbing. I was worried Liam’s ego would get him bullied on the show, or worse, that he’d be tricked into leaking corporate secrets. The Shaw Corporation was in a precarious state; it couldn’t afford any more scandals. So, I didn’t hesitate. “Okay. When do I need to be there?” On the TV, Liam theatrically covered the phone’s mouthpiece, as if I couldn’t hear him, and gave the camera a long-suffering smile. “See? I told you. She’s obsessed.” I just… I had no words. 3 I remember the first time we met. I showed up at his front door with a suitcase, and he answered, bleary-eyed from sleep. I gave him a friendly smile. “I’ll be looking after you from now on,” I said. “Don’t feel pressured. You can just think of me as… family.” The hint was obvious enough, I thought, though I cringed internally. But I remembered the instructions I’d been given before a certain someone left the country, and I was determined to put his mind at ease. I plastered on my most benevolent smile, ready to explain further. But Liam just laughed. He recognized me as an employee who’d been with his family’s company for three years. He summed up the situation in his own unique way: “You want me to think of you as family? What, you want me to call you ‘sis’ like you’re my brother’s wife or something?” My eyes lit up. I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s perfect!” It was exactly what I wanted. But then his smile vanished. His face darkened, and he ground out the words through his teeth. “In your dreams!” A long, tense silence followed. “I’m not a pervert!” he finally spat out. “I’m not into that weird stuff!” Worried he’d gotten the complete wrong idea, I decided to show him the picture in my wallet. I thought once he saw the photo of the two of us, he’d understand everything. Instead… The moment he saw the picture, his eyes widened in shock. He pointed a trembling finger at it. “You’re even more obsessed than I thought! You actually photoshopped yourself into a picture with me!” Honestly, a profound sense of helplessness washed over me. How could two people, born from the same mother, identical twins, be so vastly different in the brains department? This was going to be a long, hard road. No matter how many times I tried to explain, he always circled back to his conclusion: I was a desperate stalker using any means necessary to get his attention. Eventually, I gave up. I chose to endure in silence, focusing on taking care of him and selectively ignoring his daily narcissistic pronouncements. Then, he decided he wanted to be a rockstar. The entertainment industry is a shark tank, and I was worried he’d get eaten alive, so I jumped in too. Unfortunately, I had no talent for acting and ended up as a decorative “pretty face.” Fine. As long as I could be near him, that was enough. But for two whole years, Liam rarely gave me the time of day. He was either convinced I was trying to seduce him or that I was after his money. As if! It came to a head when he tried to force me to make a vow. “Ava, swear on that pretty face of yours that you have no ulterior motives. Swear that you want nothing from me. If you’re lying, may your face rot and fester until you’re a hideous monster!” What a vicious oath. I chickened out. Because, technically, I did want something from him. I wanted his brother. His twin brother. I told him this, sincerely. Liam’s face turned a fascinating shade of purple. “Ava Reed,” he seethed, “have you no shame?” And then he just stormed off, leaving me to deal with the verbal assault. So frustrating. Trying to communicate with a brainless narcissist was exhausting. Later, in a desperate attempt to get me to “give up” on him, he found some girl from the industry and started showering her with affection, trying to make me jealous. When I first heard the news, I was ecstatic for a solid half-day. It felt like my difficult, overgrown son was finally getting married off. A true milestone. Then I did a background check on the girl, Sophie. And discovered she had multiple shady connections to the Shaw Corporation’s biggest rival. This was not a simple romance. My joy evaporated. This was a classic honey trap, set up specifically for Liam. And I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. Why was it so hard for this kid to find a nice girl? It was stressing me out. All I could do was warn him to be careful. Don’t sell out the family company for a pretty face. The Shaw Corporation had been in crisis for the past two years, which was why his brother had to go abroad to stabilize things in the first place. I wasn’t asking Liam to be a business genius. Just… cautious. If only for the sake of his own future trust fund. But after my heartfelt warning, he just sneered. “Ava, is this another one of your pathetic schemes? Trying to scare me away from Sophie so you can swoop in?” I… what? Is he incapable of understanding human language? Unfortunately, he was a grown man. I couldn’t just beat some sense into him. Otherwise, I would have been tempted. Maybe it was his rebellious phase. The more I warned him to stay away from Sophie Clarke, the closer he got. Case in point: for the two guest spots on the show, he invited me. And Sophie.

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My salary is fifty thousand a month. Right now, I’m standing at the hospital payment counter, my face burning with embarrassment because of insufficient funds. I quickly text my husband. “Send me three hundred, fast. I can’t pay for my prescription.” A moment later, a document appears on my screen. “Honey, don’t forget to fill out the advance request form!” In that instant, I knew. We were done. I set the bill down, walked out of the hospital, and went straight to a law firm. “I need your help,” I told them. “I want a divorce.” 1 We’ve been married for three years. In that time, I put all of my personal assets into our joint account. It was Ryan’s idea. “Honey,” he’d said, “a marriage needs to be equal. Our incomes are so different, it could easily cause friction.” “So, let’s pool our money. I’ll manage it, handle all the expenses. It’ll help us cut down on unnecessary spending.” I agreed. And now, here I am, stomach cramping in pain, my health insurance tapped out, and still two hundred dollars short. The clerk at the counter is getting impatient. “Are you paying or not? There are other people in line.” I awkwardly push the bill back towards her. “Sorry, I’ll have to come back another time.” Ignoring her stunned look, I clutch my stomach and hobble out, each step a fresh wave of pain. Ryan’s texts keep coming. “Honey, why haven’t you filled it out yet? If you miss the approval window, you won’t get the money today!” I glance at the message and let out a bitter laugh. Right. According to his rules, I had to submit the form within ten minutes of receiving it, or I’d lose my “advance privileges” for the day. I’d have to wait until tomorrow to try again. I take a deep breath, open my phone again, and message my best friend. I ask for a thousand. She calls me immediately. “Vivi, what’s wrong? Is it an emergency?” I quickly explain. A moment later, a transfer notification pops up: fifty thousand dollars. “Let me know if you need more!” Staring at the number, a chill runs down my spine. The man I share a bed with makes me fill out a form for two hundred dollars. My best friend sends fifty thousand without a second thought. The difference between them is staggering. With the money, I get my prescription. The relief is almost immediate. On the way home, my resolve hardens. I walk in to find Ryan on the sofa, preening. “Check it out,” he says, showing off a new watch. “Just came out. I snagged it.” “Ten percent off, paid in full!” Seeing his smug face, my own darkens. “Ryan, from now on, I’m not giving you my money to manage.” He blinks. “Babe, what are you talking about? The way you spend? You make fifty grand a month, you think you could save even ten of it on your own?” “I know you’re mad,” he continues, his tone placating, “but don’t be. This watch is an investment.” I laugh internally. When I spend money, it’s reckless. When he does, it’s an investment. I’d truly underestimated his hypocrisy. I push past him into the bathroom and check our joint account. There’s only three hundred dollars in it. Ryan’s voice comes from the other room. “Honey, I know you’re upset. Tell you what, for this three hundred, you don’t have to fill out a form. I’ll just give it to you. See? Your husband takes care of you, right?” I don’t answer. I just text my lawyer and tell him to start the divorce proceedings. He advises me that first, we need to figure out exactly how much we have in assets. He warns me that splitting it evenly, let alone getting back the majority of what I rightfully earned, will be difficult. Since I’m the one filing for divorce, I might have to make some financial concessions. I clench my fists and start scrolling through Ryan’s social media. I see a post from his brother, showing off a new apartment. Prime location, best school district, paid in full. His brother is in his thirties with no steady job, and his wife is a stay-at-home mom. Where did they get that kind of money? It’s obvious. Ryan. He’s been funneling money from our joint account. He wants to keep bleeding me dry. Not a chance. My first instinct is to storm in and confront him, but my lawyer’s words echo in my mind. I need proof. If I blow up now, I’ll be the one who loses. I compose myself. Then, I go online and report all my bank cards as lost or stolen. 2 I do a quick calculation. Fifty thousand a month, plus bonuses, commission, and stock options. Over the past three years, that’s nearly three million dollars that I’ve handed over to him. Ryan himself makes eight thousand a month. That’s it. Yet he’s amassed a net worth in the millions, buying himself hundred-thousand-dollar watches and other luxury goods. And me? I have nothing. My own jewelry is locked away. If I want to wear it, I have to submit a request, explaining the occasion. In his words, my frequent client dinners and networking events are “unnecessary.” “Eating at home is healthier,” he’d say. And jewelry? “Simplicity is best.” Back then, I bought into his talk of “simple beauty.” I was busy, and simple accessories were easier to pair with my work wardrobe. Now, I see it for what it was. He’s been gaslighting me all along. I take another deep breath, pull myself together, and head for the safe. Ryan follows me. “Honey, what are you doing?” “I have a product launch in two days. I need to pick out some jewelry.” But when I enter the code, it’s incorrect. I turn to him. “You changed the password?” “I did. If you need something, just ask me. I’ve changed all the passwords in the house.” My temper flares. “On what authority? It’s my safe, my password, and my things inside it. What right do you have to change my code?” “From this day forward,” I declare, “you will not control another cent of my assets. You’re on your own.” He remains calm. “Sweetheart, you’re just tired. Has work been stressful lately? You’re the one who authorized me to do this. Why the change of heart? Has someone been talking to you?” He reaches out to pat my head. I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He glances at the red mark on his hand, a warning in his eyes. “Be a good girl, honey, and we won’t have any problems. If you misbehave, I’ll have to punish you.” “Open the safe,” I demand. “I need my jewelry.” “No can do. Remember to submit a request!” I’m about to slap him, but he grabs my wrist. “Vivi, you’re being emotional. From now on, you shouldn’t handle our joint finances. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you. If you want money, just ask.” I’m so angry I could laugh. “You think I can’t do anything to you?” He just smiles. “You’re overthinking things. Get some sleep.” He’s so sure of himself. He probably thinks I’ll never go through with a divorce. And I don’t need to ask to know that the safe is empty. I can’t take it anymore. I turn and walk out. As I reach the lobby, my phone rings. It’s him. “Thinking of going to the apartment on the west side? Sorry, I sold that too.” I stop in my tracks and look up. He’s standing at the window of our penthouse, smiling down at me. “Come back up. It’s getting late.” My nails dig into my palms. I can’t believe he sold my apartment. “Ryan, forging a signature is illegal! You just wait.” I have my lawyer draft the divorce papers and send them to him, then get in my car and drive away without a second thought. His calls go unanswered. Time is of the essence. The gloves are off. 3 I call a friend who’s a computer whiz, transfer him four thousand dollars, and ask him to trace all of Ryan’s financial transactions, as well as the sources of his family’s income. At the same time, I submit an anonymous tip about his unexplained wealth. Ryan works for a state-owned enterprise. They’re cracking down on corruption right now. He just bought a thirty-thousand-dollar watch and drives a hundred-thousand-dollar car. Most people in his position are trying to fly under the radar, but not Ryan. He’s new money, and he flaunts it. He’s made a lot of enemies. He used to claim it was all my money. Now, let’s see what the authorities think of that. My friend works fast. Soon, he sends me the files. As I look through the transaction details, my heart sinks. For three years, under the guise of supporting his parents, he’s been sending them five thousand a month, with a minimum of fifty thousand on holidays. In total, he’s given them over two hundred thousand. He spent three hundred thousand on his brother’s new apartment. He’s also bought countless luxury goods in their names. His sister-in-law is constantly showing off new designer bags. And the whole time, he’s been telling his colleagues he’s buying these things for me. All my money, lavished on his family, while I have to beg for money to buy medicine. My friend who works at the bank calls me. Ryan’s work is investigating him, and they’ve requested his bank statements. “Hey, is Ryan in some kind of trouble?” “Yeah,” I say. “I reported him.” She’s stunned. When I tell her what he’s done with my money, she explodes. “Vivi, are you insane? You were never on equal footing. Marrying him was one thing, but giving him your money?” “I know. I regret it. That’s why I’m divorcing him.” She’s silent for a moment. “If you need anything, just ask.” She hangs up and immediately transfers me another ten thousand. A text follows: “I know you’re broke right now. A girl’s gotta have her sister’s back. Don’t worry about it.” I laugh, then I start to cry. I’m a mess, sitting on a park bench, scaring away the passersby. I wipe my tears and stand up. Ryan calls again. “Vivi, you’re trying to ruin me. It was you, wasn’t it?” “They brought me in for questioning. Guess what? I walked out of there clean. You can’t touch me.” I just laugh. “I have plenty of time to fight you.” “I sent you the divorce papers. You’re on your own.” He’s stunned. “What? You’re divorcing me? Over a piece of jewelry? You reported me, and now you want a divorce?!” “That’s right.” I hang up and immediately boost a post about him online. While his work is investigating, I’m going to make sure everyone knows what he’s done. I don’t use his name, but I provide enough details that it’s obvious. “My Husband, the State Employee, Thinks He’s a CEO. I Have to Submit a Request to Spend My Own Money!” The title alone is enough to get people talking. I post a copy of the advance request form, along with a few “highlights,” like a twelve-dollar cake and a nine-dollar pair of pantyhose. I even include his annotations. “Honey, you can get a birthday cake for four dollars if you use a coupon. It’s just a birthday, you have one every year. No need to be so extravagant.” “Your pantyhose always rip. Stop buying expensive ones. Just get them wholesale from Wish.” I hope you’re ready for this, Ryan. You’re about to go viral.

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My husband fell in love with an intern at his company. There was no cheating, no ambiguity, no homewrecker label. He gave me the cars, the house, and all the money. He walked away with nothing but a divorce certificate. He said, “Alice, I can’t let Emily down, and I don’t want to let you down either.” I looked at this man, the one who once shared instant noodles with me in a cramped rental, who promised to spend his life with me. I wiped the corner of my eye and whispered, “Okay.” 1 Hearing my answer, Jason froze. It seemed he hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. He thought, at the very least, I would cry, scream, and refuse to let go. After all, he was prepared for a war of attrition. He had the resolve to sue, to fight, to endure the cold shoulder. That was Jason. Once he set his mind on something, he never looked back, regardless of the cost. Just like when he loved me. He fought for me, took me away from that suffocating home. He had said, “If you want to bully Alice, you have to go through me first.” A beer bottle smashed over his head, glass shards scattering everywhere. His fierce glare made those thugs back down. They swayed, then slowly released me and retreated. They only wanted me to pay my father’s gambling debt; they didn’t want a murder charge. I cried, covering his wound, heartbroken. Yet he managed a smile, hugging me triumphantly. “Alice, I told you. I like you, and I won’t let anyone bully you.” But now, he doesn’t like me anymore. He likes the new intern. 2 Jason opened his mouth, guilt finally flickering in his eyes. “Alice, I’m sorry for this. But I love Emily. I can’t let her bear the stigma of being the ‘other woman.’ I want to be with her openly and cleanly.” He was so upright, so noble. Even nearing thirty, he still had that youthful righteousness. How noble. Who wouldn’t praise the power of true love? “But I just have one question.” I wiped my eyes, looked up, and smiled. “Just one small question.” “Did your Emily only find out today that you aren’t single?” At first, he frowned and complained that the new assistant was clumsy, timid as a kitten. He wasn’t satisfied. Later, he pointed at my Valentine’s Day gift, annoyed. “How did Emily choose this gift? Who gives a giant capybara plushie for Valentine’s Day?” Yet, the assistant being scolded just blinked her innocent eyes and said, “But… I think it’s cute.” Jason laughed in exasperation, but I saw the helplessness and affection in his eyes at that moment. In the end, he said Emily truly loved him. That kind of pure, innocent girl deserved the best. It was only right that he regain his freedom so he could stand beside her in the sun. But Jason said he didn’t want the innocent Emily to bear the homewrecker label. So, before their feelings deepened, did she not know Jason was married? Hearing my question, Jason’s expression went blank for a second. He turned his head away. “Alice, we… we couldn’t help ourselves.” “But I promise you, before this, we never crossed any lines. We have a clear conscience toward you.” Indeed. Laughing in the office isn’t cheating. Helping an assistant out of a jam and driving her home isn’t cheating. Seeing her cry and standing up for her isn’t cheating either. I smiled bitterly and nodded. “Okay. Let’s divorce.” 3 After all, Jason gave up everything. The house, the cars, the money—he gave it all to me. He left with nothing but a divorce certificate. What more could I ask for? Jason finally let out a sigh of relief, looking at me happily. “Alice, I knew it. You understand me best. You would definitely want us to be happy.” Of course he knew. From eighteen to twenty-eight, I walked every step of the way with him. We knew each other for a year, dated for four, and were married for five. My personality is gentle; I dislike conflict, especially when I was younger. So much so that in the beginning, Jason often complained that I didn’t like him at all. Otherwise, why wouldn’t I show even a hint of jealousy? He got so mad he disappeared for three days. Three days later, he came back, head hung low, looking defeated. He gritted his teeth. “Alice, you win. I really like you. Even if you don’t care, I’m willing to be your lapdog.” It was when I heard him say that that I threw myself into his arms. He didn’t know that for those three days, I went everywhere looking for him. I almost had a breakdown. Hugging him, I whispered fearfully, “You said it. Don’t leave. I’m scared.” He stiffened, then hugged me back joyfully, like he had won a great victory. The corners of his mouth lifted high. “I thought you really didn’t care.” “You… you’re just like a cat.” 4 From then on, we went to the same college, graduated, and squeezed into a rental apartment eating instant noodles. When the company was just founded, we braved the elements to get business. Later, when things were on track, he proposed. The wedding was grand because he said: “I love Alice. Alice deserves the best.” Now, with everything settled, he held the divorce certificate and said: “Alice, don’t blame me. Emily deserves the best.” The intern was waiting not far away. She looked pure and innocent, glancing at me timidly as if I had bullied her. Jason noticed and pulled her into his arms protectively. “Emily is shy. If you’re upset, take it out on me. Don’t scare her.” Emily blushed, whispering apologetically to me. “Mrs. Sterling… I mean, Ms. Vance, please don’t mind him. He just has a bad temper, he doesn’t mean any harm.” Her tone was so familiar, one might think she was the one who had been with Jason for ten years, not me. I was just an outsider. And indeed, I was. Looking at the scene before me, the bitterness in my heart had long turned to numbness. I raised the divorce certificate and smiled. “It’s fine. We won’t be in contact anymore anyway.” For some reason, Jason frowned, hesitating. “Alice, even though we’re divorced, we’re still friends. If you need anything in the future, you can come to me.” Beside him, Emily’s smile froze. I had no reaction. I shook my head. “No need.” I wouldn’t need anything, and even if I did, I wouldn’t go to him. After all, he left with nothing. No money, no power. Finding him would be useless. Moreover— “I don’t have a habit of bothering married men.” That sentence successfully changed both their expressions. As if guarding against me, Emily eagerly tried to pull him back into conversation. She sat in the passenger seat that used to be mine and asked kindly: “Where are you going, Ms. Vance? Should I ask Jason to give you a ride?” Husband divorced, took the b*tch, tears soak the Mercedes-Benz. I tearfully refused, then drove my Mercedes to the hospital. The doctor had been waiting for me for a long time. He handed me a new report. “Ms. Vance, the situation is this: the fetus is very stable.”

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After my cheating husband, Julian Thorne, came crawling back to the family, I started posting daily online. [How thrilling is cheating, really?] [Is cheating addictive for men?] [When a man cheats, does he feel more guilty towards his wife or his mistress?] I tagged every post with his university. Precision-targeted to his students, colleagues, and even his mistress. Everyone advised me not to make it ugly, to be a magnanimous wife. Only Julian shielded me behind him, saying, “I made a mistake. It’s only right for Claire to vent her emotions.” Until I posted the 99th thread. Julian stormed in like a madman and smashed my laptop. “Claire Sullivan, are you done yet?! I came back! What more do you want?!” “How much torture will satisfy you?” I didn’t answer. I just folded his freshly washed underwear and asked with a smile: “Do you have any more laundry?” 1 Julian froze, his chest heaving violently with rage. His interrogation felt like punching cotton. Seeing he wasn’t speaking, I proceeded to help him take off his suit jacket. “It’s all wrinkled. I’ll go iron it for you.” “Claire!” He stopped me, his voice suppressed with irritation. “What do you want! Can you stop acting crazy!” “Do you know how much your posts are affecting me? I’m human too; I get tired!” My hands paused, breathing quickening. “Are you afraid for yourself, or for Monica?” That name, like a bomb, blew us apart. “Why bring up Monica again?” “I transferred her to another group and cut off contact long ago. Don’t you know all this?” “Will you only be happy when everyone becomes as crazy as you!” His voice pitched up sharply, but he froze when he saw my prominent pregnant belly. Like a deflated balloon, he softened his tone and hugged me, full of guilt: “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” “I was impulsive. I’ll buy you a new laptop tomorrow.” I dodged his touch like I’d been electrocuted, holding onto the doorframe, retching uncontrollably. “Don’t touch me. Dirty…” Julian’s face darkened. His eyes were bloodshot as he gritted his teeth: “You think I’m dirty?” He grabbed my wrist without explanation and pinned me against the door. He tore open my collar and buried his face in my neck: “The doctor said the last trimester is fine. Claire, let’s do it…” “Don’t touch me! Disgusting!” I pushed him away with all my might, squatting on the floor and frantically scrubbing the skin he just touched, not stopping even when it turned red and painful. The room was filled with the sound of my retching. “Too dirty. I need a shower…” “Claire Sullivan! Do you hate me that much? What do I have to do for you to forgive me!” Julian roared hoarsely behind me. I rushed into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the icy water wash over me. The door slammed with a thunderous noise. I looked up and met my reflection in the mirror. That haggard face, streaked with tears. Emotions suddenly overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. I hugged my belly, crying until I couldn’t breathe. I never thought we would go from a happily married couple in our youth to looking at each other with disgust. We used to want to stick together every moment; now, a touch feels revolting. I couldn’t forget those things. I tried. I wanted to forget, to be a generous wife. But the thought of him getting together with the student I sponsored while I was pregnant… Even doing those things in our marital bed on the day of my father’s funeral. My stomach would cramp in stress, like a knife churning my insides. Why can he pretend nothing happened with such peace of mind? I can’t do it! It took a long time before I stumbled out of the bathroom. The house had returned to a deathly silence. Julian sat on the sofa, eyes red: “Sorry, I was impulsive tonight.” “It’s all my fault. I won’t do it again.” “Doesn’t matter.” I interrupted him. “That’s your business.” Without waiting for his answer, I turned back to the bedroom. I lay on the bed, placing my hand gently on my lower abdomen, adjusting my breathing. Sorry baby, Mommy lost her temper and scared you again. My heavy eyelids slowly closed, my mind rehearsing what would happen in a hundred days over and over. Once the baby is born, I’ll be free. 2 I was woken up by contractions. Feeling the trail of blood beneath me, I struggled out of bed, only to find the bedroom door locked tight. Fear rose in my heart. Cradling my belly, I frantically dialed Julian’s number. “Julian, I’m bleeding… The bedroom door is locked, I can’t get out. Come back quick!” Julian’s voice was full of exhaustion, “Claire, the university is hosting an event today, I’m very busy. Stop causing trouble.” “Julian!” Intense contractions made me cry out in pain: “It’s true, I might be giving birth!” “Here we go again!” Julian’s voice rose sharply. “Claire Sullivan, do you just want to ruin the award ceremony?” “No wonder you were so calm last night. You were planning to threaten me with the child!” “Julian, I’m not…” I wanted to explain, but continuous pain drained my strength. He wanted to say more, but Monica’s voice broke in. “Professor Thorne, is Mrs. Thorne making a fuss again?” “Maybe you should go home, you don’t need to accompany me…” “Ignore her, work is important.” Julian’s voice merged with the laughter of students. The call was hung up. I adjusted my breathing and called 911. But when I struggled to get up, I fell into a pool of blood, tears flowing uncontrollably. The doctors arrived quickly. When they broke down the door, they saw me lying in a pool of blood. I miscarried. The doctor said the baby was nearly eight months old. If not for the delay breaking down the door, it could have been saved. Julian knelt by my bedside, slapping himself twice: “Claire, it’s my fault, I’m a bastard!” “I was afraid you’d be triggered seeing me on stage with Monica… Forgive me, wifey, we can have another child.” The last time he knelt was at our wedding. Kissing my hand, teary-eyed, swearing to cherish me forever. Now everything has changed. His figure at this moment could no longer overlap with the innocent boy in my memory. I stared numbly at the ceiling, feeling a momentary sense of relief. The child is gone. I finally don’t have to force myself to be with Julian anymore. A sudden phone ring interrupted his repentance. It was Monica calling. To show loyalty, he immediately put it on speaker and shouted: “Monica, stop pestering me!” The voice on the other end was mixed with sobbing: “Professor Thorne, I’m pregnant…” “I’ll get an abortion, but as the father, I felt you should know.” My palms clenched into fists, my biting lips trembling uncontrollably. My child just died, and she’s pregnant. Julian hung up quickly, looking at me with anxiety and embarrassment: “Claire, I won’t acknowledge this child.” I laughed abruptly, tears falling. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” “I don’t want a divorce!” Julian stood up and hugged me tightly. “Claire, I love you. Don’t say such things.” I forcefully pulled his hands away and screamed: “Then get Monica to the hospital right now! I want to watch her get an abortion!” Julian closed his eyes, daring not look at me. “Monica has depression. If I make her get an abortion now, I’m afraid she’ll do something drastic.” “What about my child?” I threw the water cup at him. “I deserved to miscarry, is that it? That was your child too!” On the phone, Monica kept sobbing. “Professor Thorne, I won’t make it difficult for you. I’ll go kill myself right now…” Julian’s face turned pale instantly. He clutched his phone and rushed out of the ward. Watching his decisive back. My mom hugged me with heartache, “My poor daughter, we won’t take this abuse anymore.” “Divorce immediately. Mom will go back and pack your bags.” But when I received my mom’s call again, all I heard was her wailing: 3 “Claire! Julian ordered people to demolish our old house!” “Your dad built that brick by brick! It was my only memento!” Like a knife, suddenly stabbing into my heart. I broke down emotionally. Enduring the cramps in my lower abdomen, I dialed Julian’s number with trembling hands: “What right do you have to demolish my parents’ house? They were so good to you!” Julian’s voice was icy. “If I had been a second late just now, Monica would have taken sleeping pills and killed herself.” “Your mom called the school to report Monica as a mistress, almost driving two lives to death!” “The old house is gone. Now she can move to the city to live.” After nearly ten years of marriage, I understood Julian instantly. He wanted to cut off my mom’s retreat. Forcing our whole family to live under his nose. I cried hysterically, “Julian, why don’t you just die with her!” He dropped a “you’re unreasonable” and hung up. I just miscarried, hadn’t even finished my confinement. My mom had a heart attack from the shock and was hospitalized. Successive blows left me in a trance. I opened my phone and posted the 100th thread: [My child is gone, but my husband’s mistress is pregnant. How can I make them pay?] The post exploded. In less than a few hours, it hit the trending list. The comment section rushed to Julian’s account to attack: “Indeed a beast in human clothing. This couple of dogs should just die!” “What right does a rotten cucumber have to be a teacher? The school should fire him!” Seeing netizens on my side. I felt unprecedented relief, my heart much lighter. Until my account suddenly posted a statement. [I’m sorry everyone. I fabricated all 100 posts. I apologize for the trouble caused to my husband and Ms. Monica.] I wanted to log in to delete it, but found the password changed. I realized then that Julian had taken the broken laptop. Immediately after, Julian posted on Weibo: “My wife developed paranoia after getting pregnant, always fantasizing about an inappropriate relationship between me and my student.” “For her sake, I transferred student Monica to another group, but she still couldn’t control herself from posting rumors daily.” “I will make her apologize to student Monica personally. Very sorry for wasting public resources.” I didn’t expect Julian’s method of twisting the truth to be so dirty! Almost instantly, my inbox was filled with abuse. “Old woman, if you’re sick, just die! You look like the type of trophy wife who fantasizes every woman wants her husband!” “Your child died because of your karma, you know that, you bitch…” Just as I was about to retort, Julian called. “Claire Sullivan, come to the school tomorrow to apologize to Monica.” I trembled with anger. “Why should I!” His tone could not hide his anger, “Monica is innocent. What does your child’s death have to do with her?” “If you don’t want your mom’s heart surgery canceled, come to the school immediately and apologize to Monica.” My mom treated him like a son. But for Monica, he used my mom’s life to threaten me! I clenched my palm fiercely until I bit my lip raw, hearing my trembling voice: “Okay, I promise…” After settling my mom, I took a taxi to the school. Monica was sobbing in Julian’s arms. Seeing me, she couldn’t help rushing up and slapping me. “Mrs. Thorne, why did you ruin me!” Surrounding students and teachers looked at me with disdain. In front, someone set up a phone to livestream. Julian’s warning gaze fell on me. “Claire, apologize.” I swallowed the blood in my mouth, about to speak. Someone kicked the back of my knee. My knee slammed into the ground, and I knelt before Monica. My clothes were pulled open. Revealing the hideous stretch marks on my belly. “Ugly people really do create trouble. Looking like this and still having a foul mouth to frame others.” “So disgusting. I wouldn’t want a woman like this even if she paid me.” Julian glanced at me with some embarrassment. He felt ashamed. “Claire Sullivan, don’t feel aggrieved. You posted a hundred threads, Monica only slapped you once. You got off easy.” “I’ve transferred the money to your card. From now on, you owe each other nothing.” I climbed up from the ground, looking at Julian with red eyes. What they owe me, they can never repay. Suppressing the surging hatred, I rushed to the hospital to see my mom, only to hear she was transferred to the ICU. The nurse told me: “The patient fell down the stairs.” “She has intracranial hemorrhage and multiple fractures. She’s being resuscitated.” 4 Surveillance showed that the person who pushed my mom down the stairs was Monica. My blood ran cold instantly. I called Monica, “You dared to push my mom! I’ll make sure you go to jail!” But what answered me was Julian’s reproachful voice. “You can’t blame Monica for this. She came for a prenatal checkup, and Mom went up and scolded her.” “Monica was scared and pushed by accident.” Teetering on the edge of collapse, I almost roared out. “My mom has a brain hemorrhage and is still being resuscitated! Julian Thorne, you’re actually defending a murderer! Do you have a heart?!” The call was hung up immediately. When I called back, I was already blocked. I sat withered outside the ICU until the attending physician came out, looking at me with regret: “Miss Sullivan, my condolences.” My world spun, darkness falling before my eyes, and I vomited a mouthful of blood. My mom died. I have no relatives left in the world. Hatred nearly burst my chest. I immediately took a taxi to University A. Since they say I’m crazy, I’ll show them crazy! When I arrived at the school, Monica was giving a speech. I rushed up, grabbed her hair, and slapped her hard. “Murderer! I want you to pay with your life!” The audience was in an uproar. “Ah! Professor Thorne, save me!” Reacting, Julian rushed onto the stage and kicked me in the waist. “Claire Sullivan, what are you doing here? Are you insane?” Julian shielded Monica behind him, looking at me with hatred. “Mrs. Thorne, why did you ruin my speech assembly!” Monica sobbed uncontrollably. She suddenly knelt down and kept kowtowing to me. “I’ll go die right now. Please let me go. I really can’t take it anymore!” I didn’t miss the flash of triumphant mockery in Monica’s eyes. Red-eyed, she stumbled towards the rooftop. When Julian chased after her, Monica was already outside the railing, teetering. “Monica, don’t be rash. With me here, anything can be solved.” Monica cried beautifully, appearing broken and pitiful. “Professor Thorne, I have no choice. I’m being driven crazy by Mrs. Thorne. I’m just a child from a poor family, and now being bullied like this… I really don’t want to live anymore.” In the crowd, I sneered: “Then jump!” Slap! A ruthless slap landed on my face. “Claire Sullivan, shut up! Do you have to force her to death!” Julian, with a dark face, dragged me by my hair to Monica. “Kowtow and apologize to Monica immediately. Promise you won’t go crazy again.” I threw off his hand. “Dream on!” Julian tapped on his phone. The surveillance video of my mom at the funeral home appeared in front of me. He stared at me, his tone brooking no refusal: “I give you ten seconds.” “If you don’t kneel, I’ll have someone drag your mom’s corpse over to kneel for you.” I stared at him in disbelief, trying to see a trace of hesitation in his eyes. But there was none. He just counted down calmly like a machine. “Five, four…” Seeing my mom’s body really being dragged out and thrown on the ground. I couldn’t hold it anymore and flopped to my knees in front of Monica. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I won’t dare again…” Triumph flashed in Monica’s eyes. She glanced timidly at Julian, “Professor Thorne, I don’t think Mrs. Thorne is sincere.” With that, Julian immediately grabbed my head and smashed it on the ground. Warm blood slid down my face. He whispered in my ear: “Wifey, bear with it. Let’s get Monica down first.” After a full 99 kowtows, Monica came down from the roof and threw herself into Julian’s arms. She looked at me provocatively, but the next second, a group of police rushed in and handcuffed them!

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The next time I saw Zane, I was a cocktail waitress in his bar. He stepped in smoothly, defusing a tense situation with a drunk customer for me. His presence was an immediate, silencing authority. “Thanks,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. There was no awkwardness, no fumbling shame. Just a polite, professional distance between us. Everything was as it should be. A moment later, his fingers brushed against mine, his hand closing around my own just like he used to. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I once lived for. “Do you hate me?” I gently pulled my hand away. A small smile touched my lips, but I didn’t answer. Hate him? Not really. You can’t hate someone you no longer love. My gaze drifted down to his left hand, to the plain band on his ring finger. Noticing my glance, Zane instinctively twisted the ring, his eyes lifting to meet mine. “Jenna’s been… insecure lately. That’s why…” I nodded, showing I understood, and bent to wipe the spilled drink from my uniform. I used the excuse of needing a paper towel to turn away. Suddenly, a clean, folded handkerchief appeared before me. “It’s new. Use it.” “No, thank you.” I rolled up my sleeve calmly, creating more space between us. “I wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong idea.” The movement exposed the terrible, gnarled scars on my forearm. I hesitated for a second, then pulled the sleeve back down. The wounds had been a part of me for years now, sometimes better, sometimes worse. I was used to them. The sight no longer sent me spiraling. As I turned to leave, Zane blocked my path. “I have a private room. Come sit for a while.” “I…” He didn’t wait for an answer, his grip firm on my wrist as he pulled me along. The familiar faces in the VIP lounge froze for a heartbeat when we entered, then quickly resumed their conversations as if nothing had happened. Someone started to pour me a drink. Zane’s hand shot out, covering the glass. “Her stomach’s sensitive. Get her a glass of hot water.” A few of his friends chuckled and nudged each other, the teasing banter a well-rehearsed play. They all acted like this was normal, like I still belonged here. “Thank you, but I’m not thirsty,” I said, my voice flat. I stared out the window, a silent spectator to a drama that had nothing to do with me anymore. Zane’s posture stiffened. He turned, grabbed his overcoat from the back of a chair, and draped it over my shoulders. “It’s cold in here. Keep warm.” I shrugged the coat off and stood up. “I don’t need it. I have to get back to work.” “Clara,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, warning tone. “Do you have to speak to me like this? I’m trying to take care of you.” His tone was quiet, but I knew. He was angry. Once, that sound would have sent me scrambling to his side, clinging to him, begging for his forgiveness. But not anymore. Without another glance, I walked toward the door. This time, the mood in the room shifted instantly. One of his closest friends, a man I’d known for years, stuck out his leg and kicked the back of my knee. The impact sent a shock of pain up my leg, and I crumpled to the floor. “Don’t be a bitch when you’re offered a lifeline,” he snarled. “Zane’s doing you a favor by not treating you like the trash you are.” Another one chimed in, his voice slick with contempt. “A disgusting slut like you… no one would even want you as a mistress.” Zane slowly stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “Sweetheart,” he said, the sound chillingly soft. “Are you ready to listen now?” “Come here.” My body trembled with pain as I used a table to pull myself up. “Mr. Sterling,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” The words had barely left my mouth when a glass shattered against the wall behind me. Zane smiled, wiping a drop of blood from his knuckles. “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson.” His crew closed in, surrounding me. One by one, they took their turns. A kick here, a lit cigarette pressed against my shoulder there. They deliberately tore at my cheap uniform, one of them even using his belt to lash at my back. I curled into a ball in the corner, the pain so intense I couldn’t even scream. Fear, cold and absolute, wrapped around me. It was just like that night. I hugged myself tightly, drowning in a sea of hopelessness. “Still think you’re the Sterling family’s little princess, Clara? Look at you. You’re as ugly as a toad.” “Got a taste for being a thief, huh? Still trying to crawl into Zane’s bed?” “I heard she’s a real screamer for the old execs. I’ve even got the video on my phone.” One of them grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. He held his phone in front of my face, the screen glowing with a high-definition video of my own humiliation, forcing me to watch. Again and again. A wave of nausea rose in my throat, hot and acidic. I curled tighter, burying my face, a broken sob finally escaping my lips. “That’s enough,” Zane’s voice cut through the haze. His polished leather shoes stopped inches from my face, right over my heart. He crouched down in front of me. That same overcoat was draped over my shaking body again. His thumb traced the scar on my neck. “Does it still hurt, sweetheart?” His calm was terrifying. I nodded and shook my head frantically, too scared to offer any resistance. A faint smile played on his lips. “I told you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “You can never escape my grasp.” His eyes, those sharp, elegant eyes, were as cold and merciless as ever. Just like the man himself. Cold heart, cold soul. Why else would he have engineered this, cornering me, forcing me to work in his club? He had tried everything to break me, to make me bow my head to him again. He was just as indifferent the day he picked me up off the street. I was an orphan. When I was hungry, I dug through trash cans. When I was tired, I slept under bridges. Until I was ten. I was so small and scrawny I couldn’t even fight off a stray dog for scraps. So, in a final act of desperation, I threw myself in front of Zane’s car. He never even got out. His driver just tossed a wad of cash at me. But my leg was badly injured; I couldn’t even crawl. All I could do was stare helplessly at the sleek black car. The next time I woke up, I was in a beautiful, sprawling house. The wounds on my leg had been cleaned and bandaged. Zane told me he was adopting me. From that day on, he hired tutors to teach me how to read and write. He bought me the most expensive dresses. I couldn’t sleep in the strange, new place. I would cry every night. He’d complain that I was difficult to raise, but then he’d move his entire desk into my room to work through the night. “You’re too loud. Stop crying,” he’d say gruffly. Then, softening his tone, he’d add, “Be good and go to sleep. I’ll take you out to play tomorrow.” On the nights I was truly terrified, he would put his work aside and read me stories until I fell asleep. In those years, everyone said I was his little princess, spoiled rotten. They joked that with my temperament, no one would ever dare marry me. Zane would just laugh, pulling me into his arms. “Then we won’t get her married. I’ll take care of her forever.” I don’t know if that was love, but in that moment, my heart beat so fast I thought it would burst. Later, I heard he was entering an arranged marriage. I hid in my room for three days, my heart shattered. A week later, the engagement was called off. I couldn’t help but ask him. “Why did you call it off?” He chuckled softly. “You cried like this over a rumor. If I actually married her, would you cry for the rest of your life?” I turned my head away, embarrassed. “I did not.” He didn’t argue, simply pulling me onto his lap. “Alright, you didn’t. But you scared my wife away. Shouldn’t you give me a new one? I’m thirty, Clara. I can’t be single forever, can I?” I stammered, completely flustered. A smile played in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for my Clara to grow up and be my wife.” I was eighteen that year. I didn’t say no. After that, there were no other women in his life. He treated me better than I could have ever imagined. I thought I was the luckiest person in the world. But that devotion lasted only two years. On my twentieth birthday, Jenna showed up at our door, crying, saying she had nowhere to go. She was five years older than me and the first person to show me kindness when I first arrived. We had become the best of friends. She had gotten married when I was eighteen. I asked her why so young. She said it was an arranged marriage by her family. As an illegitimate daughter, she had no choice. My heart ached for her. I had Zane prepare the most lavish dowry for her wedding. I just wanted her to be happy. Two years later, her husband died, and his family threw her out. Her own family refused to take her back. So I brought her home. I begged Zane to let her stay. He sighed, tapping my head gently. “You’re so naive. One day you’ll be sold and you won’t even realize it. Do you think the Sterling estate is a charity? Taking in every stray?” I looked at him with pleading eyes. He finally, reluctantly, agreed. Jenna’s clothes were rags, her body covered in bruises. My heart broke for her. I held her, my eyes welling with tears. “It’s okay, Jenna. From now on, this is your home. You’re going to be happy here.” And she was. She happily took over my entire life. After moving in, Jenna was too timid to go out. She spent her days in the kitchen, cooking up elaborate meals. Zane wouldn’t touch them at first, but eventually, he started offering a compliment or two. Then, on a whim, they had a cook-off. When he lost, he bought her a gift as an apology. Soon, he was asking her to cook special meals and bring them to his office. I was genuinely happy for her, thinking she was finally coming out of her shell. Until the day he bought her the entire new collection of dresses I had been dreaming about for months. He didn’t save a single one for me. I was a little upset; after all, I’d been talking about them for so long. “She hasn’t had any new clothes since she got here,” he said. “Don’t be petty about these things. Besides, there are other dresses. Don’t be so childish.” I looked at Jenna’s meek, apologetic expression and felt a pang of guilt. Maybe I was being small-minded. I started encouraging Zane to take her to parties, helping her pick out clothes. She began to shed her timidity, clinging to Zane and asking if she looked pretty, begging him for silly little gifts. I shared my deepest secrets with her. I told her I was going to marry Zane, that he was the best man in the world. She would smile and say how wonderful that was. She said she wanted to be my best friend forever. She said she hoped I would be happy for the rest of my life. She joked that at our wedding, she’d be my maid of honor for life and demand her own table at the reception. We even huddled under the covers one night, picking out names for my future children. I laughed and promised her anything, my mind already racing with ways to find her a wonderful husband of her own. Until that night. I heard noises from Zane’s room, the distinct sound of a woman’s voice. “Wow, you’re really energetic tonight.” “Well, you were the one saying I was getting old the other day. Tired now? Get some sleep.” I pushed the door open and froze. Clothes were scattered across the floor. Jenna was lying in his arms. The telltale marks of passion were all over them. “What are you doing?” My hand, gripping the doorknob, started to tremble. No one spoke. Zane carefully helped Jenna into one of his own dress shirts. The sight seared itself into my brain. I lunged at Jenna, my hand raised to strike. “Jenna! You were my best friend!” Before the slap could land, Zane kicked me. I fell to the floor as he wrapped Jenna tightly in the duvet, his eyes guarded and cold. “Clara, if you’re done with your tantrum, close the door on your way out. Jenna’s sensitive. If you scare her, she’ll be up crying all night.” He didn’t even grant me a single glance of remorse. I scrambled up, insane with grief, and tried to pull Jenna away from him, scratching at him wildly. “Why! Why would you do this to me! What about me?” He pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand, his voice laced with impatience. “I never said I wasn’t going to marry you. What are you so angry about? A man in my position can’t have just one woman. Besides, she’s your friend. You two should get along.” Jenna crawled toward me, sobbing. “Clara, I was just so jealous of you. I love Zane so much too. I’ll be the other woman, I don’t need a title. I’ll serve you both. Just please don’t send me away. Zane is just so gentle in bed… I couldn’t bear to leave him.” I yanked my hands free, a chill spreading through me. The other woman? Serve me? I destroyed everything in the house. Smashed it all to pieces. Zane just watched, a cold expression on his face, as if observing a lunatic. I replaced all the files in his work email with their private photos and blasted them across the internet. I invited my friends out constantly, telling them every sordid detail of his affair. Eventually, they stopped coming. Then, they turned on me. “Disgusting!” “You’re sick!” “It was bad enough that she was hoarding Zane’s old clothes, but now she’s digging his used condoms out of the trash? What, trying to get pregnant? I never knew you were so shameless.” My own friends took turns slapping me across the face. Then came a text from Zane. Sweetheart, you shouldn’t have provoked her. I returned to the house, hollowed out. My art studio had been converted into Jenna’s walk-in closet. Zane stroked my hair. “If you don’t behave, I can’t guarantee what will happen next. Jenna is fragile. She can’t stand to hear a bad word said about her.” So I had to be the one in the wrong. He had always known I kept one of his shirts. Back then, he’d told me I could have boxes of them if I wanted. Now, to protect Jenna’s reputation, he was willing to slander me, to make me out to be some desperate, pathetic creature. I dropped my shoulders in defeat, closing my eyes. I deliberately kept my distance from him. I poured everything I had left into a design competition. The next day, Jenna submitted the exact same designs. The organizers were in a difficult position. “Given the circumstances, perhaps we should reschedule…” “That won’t be necessary.” Zane strode onto the stage, his eyes landing on me like a physical blow. “I can testify that Clara was the one who plagiarized.” The room erupted. “I can’t believe she’s that kind of person!” “Figures. No morals, no talent. Just a useless leech.” “Mr. Sterling is a saint for keeping her around.” I looked up at Zane. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper. “Sweetheart, ignoring me has consequences.” So, it was him again. I stumbled backward. “Give Jenna justice!” someone shouted from the crowd. People surged forward, grabbing at me. Someone threw a liquid. It splashed across my neck and down my right arm. A searing, unbearable pain shot through me. “Clara!” Through a haze of agony, I saw him rush to my side, holding me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. I woke up in a hospital. Alone. A bowl of cold congee sat on the nightstand. Online, the story of their epic love was going viral. Jenna wanted to study design, so he called in a once-in-a-lifetime favor to get her an apprenticeship with a modern master. Even when she was rude, even when she publicly insulted her mentor, even when she treated everyone like a fool, Zane protected her fiercely. He made a public statement. “Jenna is the woman I love. Please don’t hold her actions against her. She’s had a difficult past. I hope you can all be kind to her.” Of course. It was that easy for her. I had begged him for years for a similar introduction. He had told me I had to rely on myself, that no one would teach me if I didn’t have the talent. He wouldn’t even arrange a dinner meeting for me. Now, to legitimize the woman he loved, he forced Jenna’s family to formally acknowledge her, turning her into a proper heiress overnight. He never came to see me. Our only interaction was when his assistant came to force me to sketch designs for Jenna’s competition portfolio. When I refused, they stopped my medication. The pain from the burns was unbearable. In that small hospital room, I drew day and night, redoing sketches over and over based on Jenna’s one-word critiques until my hand cramped so badly I could no longer hold a pen. I was in agony, half-dead in that hospital bed. I finally gathered the strength to call him. I could hear them in the background. Jenna’s laughter. They were eating, sleeping, watching movies. He was so in love with her. Her design, my design, won the competition. They thanked each other publicly, flaunting their love online. It had nothing to do with me. The day I was discharged, he came to pick me up. The burns had left a hideous patchwork of scars from my neck down my arm. He helped me into the car as if nothing had happened. He asked if I was done with my tantrum. His tone was light, as if he were asking what I wanted for dinner. When I didn’t speak, he gently kissed my hand. “Jenna had it rough for so many years. I just want her to be happy. You said she was pitiable too, didn’t you? I raised you, Clara. Be the bigger person and let her have this, okay?” I closed my eyes, my chest constricting with a pain that had nothing to do with my burns. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. He held me close, humming an old lullaby from my childhood. “But Zane,” I whispered, “I have nothing left. And I didn’t do anything wrong.” He froze for a second, his brow furrowed. “But you’re still living at the estate. What more could you want?” I couldn’t control it anymore. I slapped him, hard. “Zane! You know how hard I worked! You destroyed my career! My reputation! My future! All of it, just like that.” And my love. He sighed, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “That’s all superficial nonsense. Why do you care so much about that? That’s not what life is about.” I burst out laughing, a hysterical, body-wracking sound. Not what life is about? Then why did he fight so hard to give Jenna a title? Why did he get her a master mentor and a prestigious award? When it came to me, it was ambition, greed. But in just a few short months, I was utterly exhausted. Zane wiped the tears from my face. “Okay, calm down. If you really want those things, I’ll make it up to you later.” He dropped me off, called Jenna to let her know he was on his way to the office, and then kissed my lips. He didn’t come home that night, or the next. One evening, I was curled up with my cat on the porch swing, watching the sunset. He appeared, looking weary from a long trip. He was holding a ring box. He knelt before me and asked if I would still marry him. It was the ring we had designed together last year. We had been too busy to pick it up. Now, it was right in front of me. I looked down at my scarred, slightly misshapen fingers. I didn’t speak. I just nodded slowly. His face lit up as he slid the ring on. It was too big now. It slipped off and rolled somewhere into the darkness. But he didn’t care. He cupped my face in his hands. “My sweet, good girl.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Sweetheart… Jenna has a business associate… I need you to entertain him tonight.” “What did you just say?” I thought I had misheard. Zane rubbed his temples wearily. “She just went back to her old company and wants a promotion, but she won’t let me help. Her boss has a thing for beautiful women. She’s too timid to go herself… she cried in my arms all night about it. You’re not doing anything right now. Just go help her out.” For the first time, the man in front of me seemed utterly disgusting. I pushed him away and tried to run. He grabbed me. “You won’t go? Then the cat in your arms…” He was threatening me. With the cat he had bought for me. Seeing me freeze, he smiled. I stood there like a doll while he dressed me in a beautiful gown and did my makeup. He led me by the hand and delivered me to that door. He said when I came out, he’d be there to pick me up. To take me home to get married.

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My sworn enemy lost her memories, so I tricked her into coming home with me and pretending to be my wife. I cooked for her, fed her, and even warmed her bed. She thought I loved her deeply. In reality, I was stealing all her business behind her back. I was secretly gloating, until I accidentally overheard her on the phone in the bedroom, her tone a mix of coquettishness and anger: “Let him have a few more contracts. He didn’t even sleep with me last night!” 1 My assistant found me in the remote mountain village exactly five minutes after my memory returned. She knelt and hugged my leg, sobbing, “Mr. Sterling! You’re alive!” Suddenly, a scantily clad woman burst out of the room and kicked my assistant over. “Who said you could touch my husband’s leg?!” “Bad woman! Stay away from my husband!” Scarlett Vance had a face like an angel and a body like a devil. Her collarbone was covered in suspicious hickeys and scratches. My assistant’s jaw dropped. “Ms… Ms. Vance?!” Scarlett glared at her ferociously, then turned to me, her eyes instantly softening into pure adoration. “Hubby, don’t be scared. I won’t let this bad woman bully you.” “Also, Hubby, why did she call me Ms. Vance? Is there something wrong with her brain?” Me: “…” Seeing my silence, Scarlett got nervous. She walked up to me like a kicked puppy. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she nuzzled her soft lips against my chest and whispered: “Hubby? What’s wrong?” Her lips were cool. But to me, they felt hotter than lava. I instinctively pushed her away. Scarlett stumbled back two steps. Her beautiful face froze, eyes widening in shock… Then, her eyes turned red, and she choked out: “Hubby… you… you pushed me?” “You pushed me for this bad woman?!” My assistant had already fainted from shock. I understood her reaction. Five minutes ago, I woke up in bed. Scarlett was lying beneath me, flushed, her slender arms around my neck, puckering her red lips for a kiss. This was more horrifying than waking up to see my mother. So I fainted too. I would die before admitting that Scarlett’s lips were so soft and sweet that I kissed myself unconscious. 2 Scarlett stormed back into the room after yelling at me. My assistant slowly woke up, looking at me with pure terror. “Mr. Sterling, have you and Ms. Vance… been possessed?!” It wasn’t a strange question. The rivalry between me and Scarlett was legendary in the city. The Sterling and Vance families had been at war for generations. As the heirs, we were epic enemies. We were born on the same day and grew up in the same neighborhood. We fought in school, and now we fought in business. Wherever we met, chaos ensued. If we drank together, we’d sue each other if one person drank a drop less. This time, we were both inspecting new projects in the mountains. A torrential rain caused a landslide. Our cars crashed. We were both injured and lost our memories. The villagers mistook us for a couple and put us in the same room. The key point is… we slept together! Damn it! My twenty-six years of chastity! I was saving it for my future wife, not this evil witch Scarlett! Thank god I got my memory back before her. She was still calling me “Hubby” like an idiot. Heh. Since it’s come to this, don’t blame me for being ruthless! 3 I didn’t go in to comfort the angry Scarlett. After thanking the villagers, my assistant and I prepared to leave. As we reached the car, I saw Scarlett standing there with a cold face, holding a… brick. I frowned. “What are you doing?” “Hubby, are you running away with that wild woman?” Scarlett’s eyes reddened the moment she saw me. Her gaze shifted to my assistant, narrowing dangerously. “Since you’re stealing my husband, I have to kill you.” My assistant’s legs gave out. She almost wet herself. Tsk. She lost her memory, but her vicious nature hadn’t changed a bit! An idea sparked. I walked over, wrapped my arm around Scarlett’s waist, and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Be good, wifey. Who said I was running away? You misunderstood…” Scarlett stiffened and looked up at me. “Then where are you going with her?” “She’s just a driver here to take us home. Back to our home.” Meeting Scarlett’s now clear and innocent eyes, I softened my tone to coax her. “Wifey, I remember everything now. We have a home in the city.” “I handle business outside, and you handle the cooking and chores at home.” “Let’s go home now. We can sleep in our big bed every night.” “This hard bed hurts my back. It’s uncomfortable doing that…” My ability to lie without blinking was honed back in high school when Scarlett kept reporting me for dating. Now the boomerang was coming back to her. Would she believe it? Sure enough, as soon as I finished, the brick fell from Scarlett’s hand. She hugged my waist, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed me. “Boohoo, Hubby, you’re so good… I misunderstood you…” We kissed passionately. The sound of our lips meeting was embarrassingly loud. Why did this damn woman love kissing so much after losing her memory… I should film her looking so obsessed with me so I can mock her forever! I signaled my assistant to take a picture. But she was staring blankly, shocked out of her mind. It was like seeing Voldemort kiss Harry Potter. 4 “Mr. Sterling, is this really okay?” In the hospital hallway, my assistant whispered nervously, “What if Ms. Vance suddenly remembers…” Scarlett was known for her devilish body and devilish heart. Ruthless and vengeful. Everyone in the city feared her except me. If she recovered and realized I tricked her, she’d probably kill me even if it drove her mad… But I wouldn’t give her the chance. Am I, Julian Sterling, a man she can just sleep with and discard? I sneered. “Before she remembers, I’ll make sure she loses everything.” We just ran a series of brain scans on Scarlett. The doctor said if she hadn’t remembered by now, the recovery period could be long. Good, good. Long is good. Long enough for the Vance family to go bankrupt! Leaving the hospital, I got a call from HQ. A major foreign client was arriving tonight. I knew they were here to discuss a cross-border project with Scarlett. And this client happened to be my college crush, the campus goddess! Last time, I almost closed the deal, but Scarlett sabotaged it. Tonight was my chance for a comeback. I changed into a white shirt that accentuated my muscles, hiding my bellyful of bad intentions. Walking out of the fitting room, I bumped into a soft body. “Wearing such tight clothes… who are you going to see?” A seductive voice rang out. Soft, slender hands climbed up my back. A numbness shot up my spine. I shivered and glared, only to meet Scarlett’s beautiful eyes staring at me. For a second, it felt like the old, evil Scarlett was back. Just as I panicked, her hand moved from my back to my belt buckle. She tightened her grip. The mix of pain and pleasure made me flustered and angry. I slapped her hand away. “What are you doing! Hands off!” Scarlett’s hand froze. Her seductive eyes drooped, looking incredibly wronged. “Hubby, you hit me?” “I knew it. You’re tired of the amnesiac me. You make money, you have a pretty assistant who hugs your leg…” “And I just cause trouble at home.” “I don’t even have the right to touch my own husband anymore. Maybe it’s time for me to leave…” She started sobbing, acting like she was about to walk away. Her beautiful face was filled with despair, looking like she was about to shatter. For a moment, I felt like a monster. And she couldn’t leave now—my plan hadn’t even started! I gritted my teeth and grabbed her hand, putting it back on myself. “Wifey, what are you talking about? Touch! Touch all you want!” Scarlett instantly switched from sorrow to joy. She didn’t hold back. Her palm tightened, her other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me onto the sofa. Her lips replaced her hands. I ran my fingers through her long hair, panting: “Wifey… you’re coming with me to the banquet tonight, but you have to wear earplugs the whole time.” “Why earplugs?” “Um… the doctor said you need to avoid auditory stimulation. So no TV or phone either.” Scarlett had too many shady friends in the city. Cutting off her contact with the outside world was crucial. I wanted to add more instructions, but then—rip. Scarlett tore open my custom-made shirt! Just as I was about to explode, her soft, pitiful voice came from my chest: “Hubby, I tore it by accident. I know I’m useless. You won’t blame me, right?” “…” Fine, I’ll endure it!!!

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My grandmother passed away, so I went to the bank to close her account. The balance: $0.42. The teller, wearing a plastic smile, pushed four dimes across the counter to me. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, we don’t have pennies right now. Maybe next time you come in, we can settle the difference?” “No,” I said. “I want it now.” She sighed, her smile dropping into annoyance. “I’m sorry, you’re holding up the line.” The next second, she pressed a button under the counter. Security arrived and ‘escorted’ me out. I immediately filed a complaint. That night, she posted about me on social media. “Met a total psycho today. Filed a complaint over two cents. Is she starving or just insane?” Attached was a photo of the transaction slip—with my social security number clearly visible. Overnight, I was cyberbullied until my phone crashed. The next morning, I stood in front of the bank’s main entrance and dialed 911. “I want to report a crime. Someone leaked my personal information.” “Also, please investigate this bank’s financial records. I suspect the money they’ve ’rounded down’ amounts to far more than just my two cents.” 1. The police arrived quickly. When two officers walked into the bank lobby, the branch manager was trying to talk me down. “Ms. Foster, look, there’s no need to make a scene over something this small.” “This was our mistake. We’re willing to compensate you for your trouble. Five hundred dollars, how does that sound?” I stared at him, silent. The officers approached me. “Hello, did you call?” “I did.” I handed over my phone. On the screen was the teller, Jessica Miller’s, Instagram post. The slip with my full social security number was uncensored, clear as day. “This person, teller Jessica Miller, leaked my personal information on social media.” “There are already thousands of abusive comments directed at me.” “Furthermore, I’ve been doxxed and received countless threatening texts.” The older officer’s face darkened. He looked at the manager. “Bring out Jessica Miller.” The manager, Mr. King, was sweating, the fat on his face bunching up as he frowned. He bowed slightly. “Officer, maybe this is a misunderstanding? Jessica is just a kid, fresh out of college. Maybe she was just venting after work, didn’t know better.” “Leaking a citizen’s private information isn’t ‘not knowing better.’ It’s a crime,” I answered for the officer. Mr. King’s face turned an uglier shade of pale. Soon, Jessica walked out from the back. She paused when she saw the police, but the moment she saw me, she put on an act of immense grievance. “Officer, I… I was just complaining to friends. I… I didn’t know it was illegal.” “I’ll delete the post, okay? I’ll apologize to her!” She moved as if to bow to me. I stepped back, dodging her performance. The younger officer, taking notes, looked up at Jessica. “Your actions violate privacy laws and could constitute a felony. You need to come with us to the station for questioning.” Jessica’s legs gave out. “This… Mr. King, say something! Mr. King!” Mr. King wiped his sweat, pleading with the officers. “Officers, can’t we handle this internally? We’ll settle privately and ensure Ms. Foster is satisfied.” “This is a criminal matter. It’s out of your hands,” the older officer said, signaling his partner to take her. As Jessica was led away, she wailed, tears streaming down her face, cursing me. “You psycho! Over two cents?! You’ll pay for this!” I ignored her screaming and turned to the older officer. “Officer, besides the data leak, I have another matter to report.” “Go on.” “I suspect this bank is systematically embezzling small amounts from customer accounts.” Mr. King, who had just started to relax, stiffened. The officer looked at me. “Do you have proof?” “Yesterday afternoon, teller Jessica Miller explicitly stated while closing my account that the balance was forty-two cents, but she would only return forty. The two cents would just be ‘let go’.” “I suspect this isn’t just her personal behavior, but standard procedure for this branch.” “Two cents from countless customers adds up to a significant amount. Where did that money go?” Mr. King immediately retorted. “Nonsense! Our accounts are handled by computer systems. Every penny is accounted for. It’s impossible!” “Is it?” I asked him. “Then why don’t we pull up yesterday’s cash flow and system logs right now?” “Let’s see if there are any other ‘let go’ remainders besides my two cents.” The officer found my logic sound and looked at Mr. King. “Please cooperate. Show us yesterday’s records.” Mr. King nervously adjusted his tie, only making it crooked. “Officer, accessing transaction logs requires authorization from headquarters. A single branch doesn’t have that level of access…” “That’s fine,” I interrupted. “I’ve already filed a formal complaint with the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. I imagine their investigation team will arrive with authorization very soon.” Mr. King stared at me, mouth open, soundless. I met his gaze. “I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Quinn Foster.” “I’m a financial auditor. And my specialty is bank transaction analysis.” 2. Jessica was detained for five days and fined five hundred dollars. The CFPB called the next day, confirming a special investigation team had been formed. They would thoroughly investigate my report regarding the “embezzlement of small customer assets.” The bank’s headquarters reacted quickly too. Mr. King was suspended. A Vice President named Chen contacted me personally. His attitude was impeccable, apologizing on behalf of the bank and promising strict disciplinary action and a satisfactory explanation. I hung up, not believing a word. Institutions like this always try to bury the problem first. Sure enough, that night, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. At first, it was unknown numbers, screaming filth the moment I picked up. I set my phone to block unknown callers. Then came Jessica’s friends and family. They somehow got my number and found all my social media accounts. Someone claiming to be Jessica’s cousin sent me hundreds of voice messages. “How can your heart be so black? You got our Jessica arrested, isn’t that enough?” “For two cents, you’re ruining a young girl’s future. Are you even human?” “Leave people a way out. Do you have to destroy her completely?” And then there was Jessica’s boyfriend, even more direct. “Bitch, drop the case or I’ll find people to kill you!” He sent a selfie holding a mop handle, backgrounded by the entrance to my apartment complex. I didn’t reply. I just screenshotted everything. Mr. King’s text came through too. “Ms. Foster, better to untie the knot than tighten it. Jessica has been fired, you’ve vented your anger. The bank is willing to compensate you fifty thousand dollars. Let’s end this here, what do you say?” “If you keep making trouble, it won’t be good for either of us. You’re young, the road ahead is long. You understand.” Threats between the lines. I screenshotted this message too. They moved fast. New posts appeared on social media. The titles were variations on a theme. “Exposing the cold-blooded auditor who drove a teller to suicide over two cents.” “Breaking: The teller has had a mental breakdown and committed suicide!” “The ordinary woman who pushed someone to the brink over pennies.” The posts were detailed, claiming Jessica lost her job because of my complaint and, under my continued pressure, slashed her wrists. She was supposedly in critical condition. Below was a pixelated photo of someone with purple hair lying in a hospital bed with bandaged wrists. The comments section exploded. “Holy shit, real or fake? Suicide over two cents? Is this woman a demon?” “Omg! This is terrifying!” “My friend works at that hospital, heard she lost a lot of blood. It’s critical.” “Auditors think they’re god? Gross! Disgusting power trip!” My name, company, even my college photos were dug up. My phone blew up. My company’s reception line blew up. I watched the venomous words pop up on my screen, then calmly turned off my phone. They thought this would scare me off? I opened my laptop and posted on an anonymous forum on the dark web. Subject: “Offering $10,000 bounty for information on backdoors or artificial financial black holes in [Bank Name]’s software system.” It was the fastest way I could think of to find where the money went. 3. Within twenty-four hours, I got a reply. No chit-chat, just an encrypted file package. “Here’s what you want. Send the 10k to this Bitcoin wallet.” I opened the file. It contained code and a detailed manual. Reading it, I finally understood Mr. King’s operation. The bank’s software had a backdoor built in during development by a rogue programmer. This backdoor could create an invisible “slush fund.” When a teller handled amounts with decimals, like my two cents, the system would pop up a prompt: “Transfer difference to temporary holding?” If the teller clicked “Yes,” the money would leave the customer’s account but wouldn’t go into the bank’s general ledger. It went into the invisible slush fund. The customer’s receipt showed the amount paid. The bank’s books showed the account settled. Ghost money. After the programmer left, he sold this backdoor to Mr. King, who was then just a client manager. Mr. King used this to siphon customer assets like an colony of ants moving a mountain. From pennies to dimes, even small balances in dormant accounts, everything was funneled into that pool. Over ten years, the amount in that pool reached a staggering number. Nine million, two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Jessica was one of Mr. King’s recruits. All participating tellers got a cut from Mr. King. Jessica came from a poor background, but this scheme let her live a life of luxury far beyond her salary. Designer bags, luxury goods—everything she flaunted on Instagram came from those “let go” two cents. At the end of the document was the transaction log for the fund. Every entry, every exit, crystal clear. The outgoing transfers pointed to three offshore accounts. The most recent large transfer was the day after I called the police. Mr. King was planning to run. I transferred the ten thousand dollars in Bitcoin. Then, I compiled everything in the document into a new report. This time, I didn’t call the CFPB. I dialed a different number. “Hello, FBI Financial Crimes Division.” “Hello, my name is Quinn Foster. I want to report Mr. King, a branch manager at [Bank Name], for utilizing system vulnerabilities to embezzle customer funds totaling nearly ten million dollars. He shows signs of fleeing the country.” The line went silent for a moment. “Ms. Foster, please give us the details.” 4. Jessica’s boyfriend was arrested. He couldn’t hold back. He tried to pry my lock open in the middle of the night, captured clearly by my new smart doorbell. Police found a switchblade on him. The charge escalated from harassment to attempted burglary with a deadly weapon. Jessica’s family panicked. Her parents ambushed me outside my office building, crying and begging. “Ms. Foster, we’re kneeling to you!” Jessica’s mom tried to drop to her knees, but my colleague stopped her. “We failed to teach our daughter. Jessica is immature, and her boyfriend is a thug. Please, be the bigger person, let them go!” “If she goes to prison, her life is over!” I looked at them, silent. “When he was prying my lock with a knife, did you think about my life being over?” “When she incited thousands to cyberbully me, photoshopped my funeral portrait, and cursed my family to die, did she think about what would happen to me?” Jessica’s dad tremblingly pulled an envelope from a cloth bag. “Ms. Foster, this is our life savings. Ten thousand dollars. Please take it as their apology…” I didn’t take it. “Keep the money. You’ll need it for a lawyer.” “But I’ll remind you: attempted burglary with a weapon, caught on tape. The best lawyer won’t change the verdict.” I walked around them and entered the building. They wailed behind me, calling me a heartless monster. I didn’t care. Two days later. A joint task force from the FBI and the federal regulators descended on the bank’s regional headquarters. Mr. King was arrested in the airport VIP lounge. He was about to board a flight to Singapore. His wife and child had left the day before. The branch was sealed off. All employees were detained for questioning. The “slush fund” hidden deep in the system was unearthed. Nine million, two hundred and thirty thousand. Down to the penny. But the money had already been moved offshore by Mr. King in batches. What awaited him was international asset recovery and a long prison sentence. The news was everywhere. “Shocking! Bank Insider Embezzles Millions in Customer Funds Over Decade!” “The Two-Cent Scandal: Financial Corruption Case Exposes Massive Security Flaw!” The people who had attacked me online were stunned into silence. The comments under Jessica’s pity post flipped completely. “Holy crap, so the teller was a thief all along?” “Suicide? More like fear of prison! Lucky she survived, jail is too good for her!” “Cyberbullying an auditor? That family is rotten to the core!” “Support the auditor! Lock them all up!” Jessica’s social media accounts were banned. As an accomplice, even though her cut was only a few thousand, she was charged with embezzlement. She was detained, fired, her boyfriend was in prison, and she faced jail time herself. She didn’t destroy my future. She destroyed her own.

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