Category: English

Julian and I had been together for over five years. That day, I came home with the freshly printed wedding invitations, planning to surprise him. The kitchen glowed with warm light, and he was laughing with the new housekeeper. She scooped some soup from his bowl, tasted it, then lightly punched his chest. “You’re such a liar, it’s not salty at all.” My fingers tightened, crushing the wedding invitations into a ball. I walked straight to the trash can. “Looks like my fiancé is getting a new girlfriend.” Seraphina had only started this month. She was Mrs. Jenkins’ cousin. A few days earlier, Julian had gone skiing and accidentally broke his leg. The doctor ordered him to rest at home for two months. Coincidentally, Mrs. Jenkins had an urgent family matter back home and left in a hurry, so her cousin had to step in temporarily. I was away on a business trip when Seraphina moved in. Since Julian couldn’t travel, I, as VP, took over supervising the company’s out-of-state projects. During that time, he mentioned her several times on SnapChat: “Seraphina is really efficient, and her cooking is great.” I assumed she was around Mrs. Jenkins’ age, so I naturally categorized her as a “dependable, older woman.” But when I got home, the person who opened the door was only a few years older than us: her hair was neatly tied back, her apron was spotless, and her expression was calm. I set my bag down, smiling. “Seraphina, I specifically picked out this silk scarf at the mall. Thank you for taking care of Julian these past weeks.” I pulled the gift box from my bag. I had originally bought it for Mrs. Jenkins. I always brought her a small gift when I returned from a business trip. Firstly, it was a reward, and secondly, she’d been with us for four or five years, and we considered her family. Seraphina looked at the gift box, but her hand didn’t reach out. The atmosphere paused. I added: “Please don’t feel obligated, Seraphina. This is just a little extra something, not part of your salary.” She looked up. “Ms. Caldwell, this is my job. You don’t need to give me gifts. I’ll do what I’m supposed to do.” Our voices startled Julian in the bedroom. He came out in his wheelchair and rolled to the doorway. I instinctively moved to push him, but before he even stopped, Seraphina had already grabbed the handles. My outstretched hand hovered, then I pulled it back, assuming she was just quick and efficient. “What’s wrong?” Julian looked up at me. I smiled. “Nothing, I just wanted to give Seraphina the gift I bought at the mall.” Then I handed him the scarf. He looked at it in his hand, nodding. “Jocelyn’s taste is always excellent. This scarf really suits Seraphina.” As he spoke, he directly handed the gift box to Seraphina. This time, Seraphina didn’t refuse like before. She took it naturally. “Thank you, Mr. Caldwell…” She paused, then nodded to me. “And thank you, Ms. Caldwell.” I hummed in response, carried my change of clothes back to the bedroom, and made a mental note of it. The gift eventually reached her, but who handed it over made a different kind of statement to some people. “Jocelyn, you’re in for a treat today. Seraphina’s cooking is amazing, her food is delicious.” In the bedroom, Julian sat in his wheelchair, chatting with me. I could vaguely hear the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen. “So, did you tell her I don’t eat cilantro?” I reminded him. “Of course! How could I forget something so small?” He said, then playfully tapped my nose, his tone as natural as ever. His gesture made me laugh, and I pushed aside the earlier unpleasantness. A little while later, the door clicked open. “Sir, dinner’s ready.” Seraphina’s voice followed her in. I had just showered, and the bathroom steam hadn’t fully dissipated. My hair was dripping wet, and I was about to change into clean clothes. She walked in without knocking. I quickly pulled my bath towel tighter, my face immediately darkening. “Why didn’t you knock?” Before, it was just Julian, Mrs. Jenkins, and me at home. Mrs. Jenkins was always respectful; she’d knock twice even when bringing a glass of water. Because of that, I’d gotten used to not locking my door at home. Seraphina froze for a moment, looking a bit awkward. “We’re all women, it’s no big deal.” A lump formed in my throat, but considering I wasn’t fully dressed, I forced myself to suppress my anger. “Please wait outside.” Seeing my expression, Julian quickly tried to smooth things over. “Seraphina didn’t mean it. We’ll wait for you outside.” With that, he gestured for Seraphina to push his wheelchair out. The door closed, and I heard the receding sound of wheels in the hallway. I took a deep breath, grabbed my prepped loungewear from the chair, quickly dried my hair, and got dressed. In the mirror, my expression was still tense. It wasn’t about such a small incident, but the feeling of boundaries being so easily crossed.

When I reached the living room, Julian had already started eating. Seraphina was also sitting at the dining table, head bowed, eating. The food on the table was still steaming, but my spot was empty. My fork and knife weren’t even set. “When Mrs. Jenkins handed over, didn’t she tell you not to sit at the table without permission when eating at an employer’s house?” I asked, suppressing my displeasure. It wasn’t that I was being unreasonable. I had invited Mrs. Jenkins to join us before, but she always insisted on following protocol, saying it was a professional boundary not to cross. Seraphina, however, was nonchalant. “I’ve been eating like this the whole time. Mr. Caldwell allowed it.” Julian interjected. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. Jocelyn, come sit down and eat.” I didn’t move, standing there, watching them both. In the silence, the sound of forks clinking against bowls was jarring. Julian sensed my mood was off. He wheeled over, looking up at me. “Jocelyn, don’t be mad. Come sit and eat.” “Tell her to get up.” I stated. “Jocelyn…” He tried to argue. “Tell her to get up.” I left no room for compromise. After a moment of stalemate, he finally lowered his head. “Seraphina, could you please eat in the kitchen?” Seraphina’s face tightened. She picked up her bowl, the chair scraping a small mark on the floor. She seemed accustomed to her way of interacting with Julian, and my return had become the disruption. The emotion in her eyes flashed, then she suppressed it, preparing to stand up. “Wait.” I called out to her, then turned to Julian. “Didn’t you tell her I don’t eat cilantro?” He finally reacted, looking down to see cilantro sprinkled on almost every dish. “This…” He was speechless. “Ms. Caldwell, this isn’t Mr. Caldwell’s fault.” Seraphina quickly spoke up. “I forgot when I was cooking and just put it in automatically.” “Then remake it.” My tone was flat. “Jocelyn, let it go. Just eat it today, Seraphina will remember next time.” Julian tried to mediate. I didn’t say anything else. I walked to the table, picked up the closest dish, and dumped it directly into the trash can. The sound of the liquid hitting the bottom was clear. “Then no one eats.” Julian’s brow furrowed. “Jocelyn, you—” The words died on his lips, as it was indeed Seraphina’s oversight. I didn’t look at either of them. I grabbed my car keys and small bag from the entryway, changed my shoes, and left. I didn’t go back after dinner. Instead, I stayed at my small apartment near the office for a few days. I’d bought this place specifically for project crunch times; the furniture was simple, and it was a five-minute walk from the office, perfect for quick breaks. These past few days, Julian kept messaging me, asking when I’d finish work, if I’d eaten, and when I’d be home. Knowing him, he usually would have driven and parked outside by now. But with his leg injury, he couldn’t leave the house freely, so he resorted to relentless messaging on his phone. I didn’t block him, nor did I reply much, occasionally just a “busy.” Around the sixth day, he sent me a longer message, asking me to come back for the weekend to look at wedding venues together. He said he’d contacted several companies, clarified their availability, budgets, and venue effects, and hoped I’d pick one I liked. His message was sincere. I didn’t want to prolong the awkwardness, so I took the olive branch and went back.

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My boyfriend secretly changed my songs into soulless commercial tracks to chase a solo deal. Our bandmate Sam confronted him for me, but he coldly replied, “Her songs are meant for me to sing. Without me, she’s nothing. Once I’m famous, I’ll just throw her some money.” In that sweltering rehearsal room, he demanded I rewrite the lyrics again, so I calmly took back all my sheet music. On the day of the music festival, he was sued for breach of contract, while my song “Nameless Bird” was performed by another rising star — it blew up overnight and won Song of the Year. “Change punk to pop? Add a rap bridge? Jax, are you insane?! Kira pulled three all-nighters writing this. Did you even ask her?” Jax and Alex, our bassist, were fighting, their voices cutting through the cheap door of the rehearsal room. Silence fell inside for a few seconds, then Jax’s dismissive chuckle rang out. “Ask her? The songs she writes, aren’t they for me to sing?” “Alex, get this straight. The only reason Tidal Wave Records even noticed our band is because of my looks and my voice, not her so-called ‘artistic integrity’! Without my vocals, all her stuff is worthless!” Alex was still fuming for me: “What about Kira? Do you have any idea how much she’s poured into this band? When we were dead broke, she worked three jobs a day, came home exhausted, eating cheap ramen, and still wrote songs for you!” “Enough.” Jax’s voice was edged with impatience. “Once I’m famous, a big star, I’ll just give her a lump sum to buy out the copyright, right? Why does a girl need so many grand dreams? Wouldn’t a stable life be better? Anyway, she’s dependent on me; I’ll always take care of her.” “Besides, she’s head-over-heels in love with me; she’ll definitely agree to this.” I stood frozen in the hallway, clutching a bag of cold beers and some street tacos I’d just bought, listening to the conversation from inside the room. We promised to stand on the music festival stage together, singing our own songs. This was the pact we made the very first day we formed the band in college. For this dream, we crammed into a rundown, cheap rental. Whenever it rained, the roof leaked, flooding our room, and we had to sleep in water. To save money for a decent used guitar, we ate instant ramen for an entire month. At our poorest, I put down my pen and waited tables at a restaurant, handed out flyers on the street. I had no choice. Music didn’t pay, so I had to earn money to support the music, to keep the band alive. Working all day, then staying up night after night, writing lyric after lyric, note after note. But now, all my hard work, in Jax’s eyes, was just a tool for his success. Our rough beginnings, our struggling past, had become my personal joke. I bit my lip, my eyes lowering, wanting to laugh, but no sound came out. Jax wanting to be famous, that was normal. But this was *my* song, and he was going to casually change it without telling me. He was also going to casually trample on my talent and my dreams! I wanted to push open the door and confront him, only to find my whole body trembling. I took half a step forward, but my hand froze in mid-air, hovering over the doorknob. After a long moment, I silently turned and walked away, pretending I knew nothing. I just tossed that bag of still-warm tacos, along with that burning period of my youth, into the trash can in the hallway. I did love Jax, but I loved my music more. He could abandon his principles for a smooth path to stardom, but I had a sanctuary of music I wanted to protect. I returned alone to our tiny, shared apartment, the one we jokingly called “the birdcage.” The room was small, with our band’s first poster stuck on the wall. The young man in the poster smiled wildly, radiating passion. Back then, Jax would sit on the rug, guitar in hand, singing the melodies I wrote, over and over. “Kira, your lyrics and music have light in them, and I want to sing that light to the whole world!” We busked in subway stations together, argued until dawn over a single chord progression. Then we’d look at each other and laugh, thinking how freaking awesome it was to fight for a dream. “The Unnamed Bird” – I wrote that song for him, and for our shared dream. The bird in the song, breaking free from its cage and soaring into the storm, was a reflection of us.

I sat on the cold floor, looking around the cramped space that was filled with so many memories. Past scenes flashed through my mind. Five years of my youth, all wasted. Just last week, when we got our first signing bonus, Jax had spun me around in the street late at night, screaming with excitement: “Kira! We did it! Soon, we’ll be on the music festival stage, letting everyone hear our songs!” In that moment, the light in his eyes was brighter than the stars. I thought we’d be each other’s strongest support, moving from obscurity to success together. I was wrong. I was too naive, thinking people’s hearts would never change. Jax was no longer the boy with light in his eyes. That winter, the boy who played guitar in the heavy snow, singing his first love song to me, that genuine, heart-pounding feeling despite the cold. It had long since vanished with time. The glitter of fame and fortune had blinded his eyes and corrupted his heart. He was no longer walking the same path as me. What he wanted was a fancy birdcage and carefully prepared feed. And all I wanted was for my bird to fly freely in the sky where it belonged. My phone screen lit up. A message from Jax: “Babe, rehearsal might end early tonight. Wait for me to get back. Love you.” Followed by a kiss emoji. I looked at that “Love you” and felt an immense irony. I didn’t reply. I just calmly retrieved the song’s demo from deep within my computer, backed it up, and encrypted it. This was my heart and soul, my baby. No one would ever distort it into something I didn’t recognize. Soon, Jax pushed open the door. He pulled off his sweat-soaked T-shirt, tossed it casually on the couch, and came over to hug me from behind. “Kira, why didn’t you come to the rehearsal room to find me? I bought you your favorite bubble tea.” His chin rubbed against my neck, his tone playful, as if the cold, ruthless person in the rehearsal room just now wasn’t him. I didn’t move or respond. “What’s wrong?” He sensed my stiffness and turned me around to face him. “Are you still mad about me yelling at you last time? I already apologized, didn’t I? I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, Kira, don’t be so petty.” “Last time,” he referred to, was when I found out he was getting very close to an award-winning producer named Scarlett. I just asked a couple of questions, and he flew into a rage. Now, I realized Scarlett must have been the one Tidal Wave Records sent to recruit him. “Jax,” I looked into his eyes, asking calmly, “Is there something you need to tell me about ‘The Unnamed Bird’?” His eyes flickered for a second, then he chuckled calmly: “Oh, you mean that. You know Scarlett from Tidal Wave, she’s a top producer. She said our song has massive hit potential but needs a few tweaks to make it more market-friendly.” He stroked my face, his voice casual: “She’s right, too niche songs don’t easily blow up. Haven’t you always said you wanted a bigger place? Once this song hits big, we’ll have the money.” I asked, word for word: “So, you’re going to turn our heart and soul into a piece of trash?” Jax’s patience seemed to run out. He let go of me, frustration clouding his face. “Trash song? Kira, can you stop being so naive? Making music isn’t a game; it’s about making money to live! Scarlett is right, we can’t always live in our own little world; we need to learn to play by the market’s rules!” “Besides, I’m not doing this just for myself; I’m doing it for the future of our entire band! Do you think Alex and Finn don’t want to make money? You’re just so arrogant!”

He spun all his betrayal into “doing what’s best for us.” I laughed, a bitter laugh, stood up, walked to the table, picked up the bubble tea he’d bought, and poured it straight down the kitchen sink. The liquid swirled and disappeared down the drain, like our vanished love. “My song, not a single word is changing! If you want to sell out, find someone else to write your tracks.” “And, we’re over.” After saying that, I walked into the bedroom and started packing my things. Jax was stunned. He hadn’t expected me to react so intensely. “Kira, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? You always do this, is it fun? What else can you do besides write a few songs? You’re nothing without me!” My hands stopped packing, tears streaming uncontrollably. For all these years we were together, everyone thought I was just Jax’s accessory, the lead singer’s girlfriend and his songwriting tool. Even Jax himself implicitly believed my talent had to be dependent on him. But no one knew that my original intention for writing songs was simply to heal myself. During the darkest period of my life after my father’s passing, music pulled me out of the abyss. My dream was for my work to be heard, to be loved. Who sang it wasn’t the most important thing. That’s why I willingly handled everything for him, why I compromised unconditionally. And that’s what gave Jax the chance to hurt me. I wiped away my tears and continued packing. All my sheet music, manuscripts, and that old guitar that had accompanied me through countless nights, I carefully placed them into my suitcase, one by one. Finally, I took off the necklace he had made for me from a guitar pick, the one around my neck. It was a gift he gave me when we first started dating. I placed it on the table and pushed it towards him. “Your stuff, I’m returning it to you.” He blocked my path, his eyes red-rimmed. “Kira, do you really have to do this? All for one song?” I looked at him and suddenly felt like he was a complete stranger. “It’s not for one song,” I said calmly, “It’s for myself.” Then, I pulled my suitcase and walked out without looking back. After leaving home, I moved in with my friend, Lena. Lena heard my story and was so furious she almost stormed over to Jax’s place to beat him up. “I told you Jax was no good! He treated you like a maid, and now he wants to treat you like a tool! You should’ve left him ages ago!” I gave a bitter smile, my heart feeling utterly lost. Over the next few days, Jax called and messaged me frantically. At first, it was accusations and threats. [Kira, how dare you leave? Without my voice, your pathetic sheet music is just trash. Who do you think will want it?] [If you’re talking about breaking up, I’ll just assume you’re throwing a tantrum. I order you to get back here right now!] I ignored all of them and blocked his number. When he saw I wasn’t responding, his tone softened, and he started to beg. [Kira, I was wrong, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Please come back? I can’t live without you.] [Have you forgotten all those days we ate ramen together? Forgotten our promise to stand on the music festival stage?] Reading those messages, I only felt irony. Who was it, really, who had forgotten all that? A week later, Finn, our drummer, came to find me. He was the only one besides Alex in the band who stood by me. “Kira, Jax really changed ‘The Unnamed Bird.’ Tidal Wave found a new lyricist, and it’s absolutely disgusting, unlistenable.”

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The first thing I did after learning my wife died in a plane crash? I frantically offloaded all our assets at rock-bottom prices and bolted overnight. Why? Because in my past life, after my wife “died,” she left behind thirty million in debt. To pay it off, I had to give our son to my mother-in-law. I worked three jobs, around the clock, while also looking after my wife’s entire extended family. I pushed myself until I was completely broken. Ten years later, riding the internet boom, I finally paid off the debt and grew my company into a powerhouse, only to be diagnosed with stomach cancer. In my final moments, I saw my supposedly dead wife appear with a strange man, holding our son, Liam, and another little girl. “Thank you, Alex, for all your hard work these past years. Now, the four of us can live comfortably off your money. Oh, and neither of these children are yours.” I was so enraged I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my wife faked her death.

“Sir, my condolences.” “Alex, try to stay strong.” My phone vibrated endlessly in my pocket, buzzing with sympathy texts from relatives and friends. On TV, the anchor solemnly reported the news of Atlantic Airways Flight 730’s disappearance, confirming all onboard were presumed dead. And my wife, Chloe, was on that plane. In my previous life, when I saw that news, I fainted on the spot. When I woke up, a collection notice from the bank greeted me—thirty million dollars. Chloe had used our marital home and my company as collateral to take out a thirty-million-dollar loan. My life, from that day on, plunged into absolute darkness. But now, looking at Chloe’s photo on the TV, my heart felt nothing. In fact, I wanted to laugh. Perfect. If you want to play games, Chloe, let’s play a big one. I dialed my real estate agent, Mr. Henderson. “Alex? Calling so late? Is everything alright?” “Mr. Henderson, I need a favor. My villa, the two apartments downtown, and the office building my company owns—I need you to list them all. Urgent sale.” There was a few seconds of silence on Mr. Henderson’s end. He was clearly stunned. “Alex, you… what are you saying? The market’s terrible right now, an urgent sale will mean a huge loss. You’ll lose at least…” “Sell them no matter the loss.” I cut him off. “One condition: all funds must be in my account within three days.” After hanging up, I didn’t pause for a moment. I dialed another number. “I need you to track someone down. Chloe. And a man she’s been in close contact with recently, Daniel Hayes.” The person on the other end was a buddy I’d helped out years ago. He was a private investigator now, with some seriously shady connections. “Alex, track down Chloe? What’s going on?” “She’s not dead.” I said calmly, “She’s with that man, Daniel Hayes. Find their current location for me, the sooner the better.” After arranging everything, I finally had time to glance at my phone. Dozens of missed calls, all from my mother-in-law, Martha Peterson, and my wife’s useless brother, Kevin Peterson. I swiped away all notifications. Just as I was about to silence my phone, Martha’s call came in again. The moment I answered, a deafening wail erupted. “Alex! My Chloe! My daughter is gone just like that! How can you call yourself a husband?! Why didn’t you stop her from going to that Maldives trip?! You give me back my daughter!” Her shrill voice pierced my ears. In my previous life, I was terrorized by that crying for ten years, treating her whole family like royalty. And what did I get? A bunch of ungrateful leeches. I held the phone away from my ear, waiting for her wailing to subside a bit, then spoke coldly. “Done crying?” Martha’s sobbing instantly stopped.

“Alex, you… what kind of attitude is that! Chloe just died, and you…” “First, ‘just died’ isn’t quite right. A plane falling into the ocean? She’s likely dead for good.” “Second, for her funeral, you’re her family. It’s your responsibility to handle it. My company has some issues right now, I’m slammed, I can’t leave.” “You!” Martha was so furious she couldn’t speak. I didn’t give her a chance, continuing: “That’s it. Don’t call me unless it’s important.” With that, I hung up and immediately blocked her number. The next morning, Mr. Henderson brought several buyers to the villa. To offload the properties as quickly as possible, I was selling them at seventy percent of market value. “Alex, please reconsider. This price is a massive loss.” Mr. Henderson was still conscientiously trying to persuade me. “No need to consider. Whoever can pay in full the fastest gets it.” My attitude was firm. The buyers looked at me like I was a lunatic, but faced with such huge profits, their greed was impossible to hide. In less than half a day, the villa and the two apartments were under contract. The company building was a little more complicated, but at such a low price, it sold quickly. Mr. Henderson patted his chest, guaranteeing it would be done within three days. I was signing contracts with a buyer when the doorbell to the villa began ringing like crazy. I didn’t even need to look to know who it was. Opening the door, Martha Peterson’s tear-streaked, puffy face and Kevin Peterson’s indignant, sneering expression appeared before me. Martha’s eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d cried all night. Kevin, meanwhile, looked furious and contemptuous. “Alex! You heartless monster! My sister’s barely gone, and you’re already selling the house!” Kevin stormed in, pointing a finger at my nose, practically spitting in my face. Martha followed, wailing hysterically: “Oh, Chloe, you died such a terrible death! Look at the man you married! The moment you’re gone, he’s selling off the entire house!” The buyers and Mr. Henderson inside the house exchanged awkward, disdainful glances. I watched their performance with cold eyes. Once they were done with their scene, I slowly spoke. “Done with your tantrum?” Kevin paused, then grew even more enraged: “Alex, what’s that supposed to mean?! Are we wrong?! My sister was so good to you, and this is how you treat her?” “Good to me?” I scoffed as if I’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Good to me? You mean by using my house and company as collateral for a thirty-million-dollar loan, then faking her death and running off?” My words exploded like a bomb in the living room. Martha and Kevin’s expressions froze instantly. The buyers and Mr. Henderson looked shocked, glancing at each other, clearly having stumbled upon some juicy high society drama. “You… you’re talking nonsense!” Martha was the first to react, her voice sharp as she retorted, “My Chloe would never take out a thirty-million-dollar loan! This is slander! You’re just making excuses to sell the house!” “Exactly!” Kevin chimed in, “My sister’s a stay-at-home mom! Where would she get a thirty-million-dollar loan? Alex, I think you’ve lost your mind!” I sneered, pulled several documents from my briefcase, and tossed them onto the coffee table in front of them. “Open your eyes and look closely. This is the loan agreement signed by Chloe. These are the bank’s collateral documents. It clearly states that if the loan isn’t repaid within three months, the bank will seize this villa and the ownership of my company.” These documents, of course, I had forged overnight. But the signature on them? That was Chloe’s genuine handwriting. In my previous life, when I was sorting through her belongings, I found many of her practice drafts. She not only imitated my signature, but also the bank manager’s. And her own signature? I could write it with my eyes closed. Martha and Kevin were clearly intimidated. They picked up the documents, scrutinizing them, the color draining from their faces bit by bit. “Impossible… this is absolutely impossible…” Martha murmured, her eyes beginning to dart around. Chloe’s plan? Her own mother couldn’t possibly have been completely in the dark. “Nothing’s impossible.” I folded my arms, watching them coldly. “Right now, the bank has issued its final notice. I’m selling everything to cover this hole. Otherwise, we’ll all end up homeless.” I deliberately emphasized “we.” Kevin’s face was grim. He probably realized he wouldn’t be able to spend my money anymore, and angrily yelled: “That’s your joint debt as a couple! Why should we be responsible for it?!” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? Well, good. I was just worried I wouldn’t have enough money. Since you’re her family, shouldn’t you contribute to this debt?” The moment I finished speaking, several rough bangs on the door came from outside. “Open up! Alex! Pay your debts, it’s your obligation!” Several burly guys in black tank tops with sleeves of tattoos stormed in. The bald man leading them looked fierce. Martha and Kevin had never seen such a scene before. Their knees buckled on the spot. Martha immediately hid behind Kevin, who was pale and shaking like a leaf. This was the second act I’d arranged. In my previous life, it was these same guys who came to my door every other day, harassing me relentlessly. They even caused trouble at the restaurant where I worked, costing me my job. This time, I’d brought them in early. The bald man walked up to me, his expression menacing. “Alex, thirty million. When are you paying it back?” I feigned panic, stepping back, and pointed at the trembling Martha and Kevin. I spoke in a frantic, loud voice: “Gentlemen, you’re looking for the wrong person! The one who borrowed the money is Chloe, and they’re Chloe’s mother and brother! Look, the loan agreement clearly states that this money was all taken by Chloe to buy her brother a house and car, and her mother luxury items!” I also handed over the forged fund flow statement. The bald man took it, glanced at it, then turned his fierce gaze to Martha and Kevin. “Oh? So *you* were the ones spending the money?”

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After graduation, the cheer captain decided to throw a bikini show to help the whole class unwind. When I saw those overly revealing bikinis, I tried to stop everyone from going. My boyfriend raised an eyebrow: “Jealous she’s hotter than you?” The whole class laughed and left. Only my best friend listened to me. That night, everyone got busted for indecent behavior and was detained. My friend looked at our locked-up classmates and shook his head: “Thank God you warned us, or we’d have missed college too.” After college, my boyfriend and the cheer captain got out and immediately got engaged. The friend who waited outside the prison turned and stabbed me in the stomach, over and over: “Why did you stop me? Don’t you know how much I loved her? “If I’d been with her that night, if I’d gone to jail with her, how could she be marrying someone else now!” Only then did I realize he’d always had a thing for the cheer captain too. When I opened my eyes again, I pushed my friend and boyfriend forward: “No problem, go ahead.”

“Violet, I organized this bikini show for everyone’s benefit.” “Do you think collecting these swimsuits all through high school was easy? And now you’re going to accuse me like this?” As soon as I came to, the cheer captain Skylar was leaning against my boyfriend, one leg crossed over the other in a bikini. The other kids nodded, especially the guys: “Yeah, Violet, swimsuit shows are a summer tradition. Are you just worried you won’t get as much attention as Skylar because you’re not as hot?” “Ha! Don’t worry, we never liked you anyway. We wouldn’t look at you even if you stripped.” My boyfriend Jaxon chuckled softly, sounding totally out of place. But I didn’t look at him like I used to. Instead, I turned to my quiet best friend Kai. In my past life, everyone thought I was just jealous of the cheer captain, even my boyfriend teased me about it. Only Kai listened when I begged him not to go, and he was the only one who stayed back. Later, we got into the same college and were even in the same research group through grad school. I thought he was the only sensible one. I never knew he was waiting all those years for Skylar to get out of jail. He hid his feelings so well, even I, his best friend, never noticed. “I get it.” I nodded, grabbed my backpack, and stepped back: “I’ll just head home then.” “Violet.” Kai suddenly grabbed my wrist. I froze. He looked at me, his expression complicated: “Take your boyfriend with you.” In that moment, it felt like an electric shock ran through me— Kai… did he remember our past life too? The way he looked at Jaxon was guarded. Yeah, in our previous life, he and Jaxon were the guys closest to Skylar. If Jaxon went this time, Kai couldn’t be sure Skylar would still choose him. “Mind your own business.” Jaxon gave me a disgusted look: “I’ve been stressed preparing for graduation. I just want to relax at a swimsuit show. Don’t project your dirty thoughts onto everyone else.” “Did I say the show was dirty?” I caught his slip-up: “I just said it wasn’t a good idea. Why would you assume I meant that? “So you secretly think this show is sketchy too?” The guys and Skylar instantly looked pissed. Jaxon’s face stiffened. Surprisingly, Kai spoke up for me: “Jaxon, you’re Violet’s boyfriend. This kind of show… isn’t really appropriate for someone in a relationship.” Jaxon shrugged carelessly: “It’s just a show. Besides, if Violet really can’t handle it, I’ll just break up with her for the day.” He winked at me.

I used to be super sensitive about his “jokes” like that. Every time he threatened to break up, I’d beg him to take it back. But this time, I just smiled: “Sure.” Then I actually turned to leave. Jaxon’s smile froze. Before he could speak, Skylar grabbed me: “Ugh, stop acting like I’m stealing your man. Hey, guys, drag Violet along.” A couple guys grabbed my arms. I struggled wildly: “I’m not going! Let me go!” “Come on, stop pretending. You were just waiting for us to invite you, right?” “If it’s so normal, why don’t you come see for yourself?” Jaxon and Kai started to say something to Skylar, but she tossed her hair, looking smug: “If I don’t let you come, you’ll probably go around saying I stole your boyfriend or something. “I usually can’t be bothered with people like you, but I won’t let you slander me either.” Jaxon and Kai hesitated, then slowly lowered their hands. “Relax, Violet. Only by going yourself will you believe Skylar’s innocent. Stop making a scene.” Others chimed in: “Yeah, you can keep an eye on your boyfriend. I’m sure Jaxon wouldn’t do anything wrong with you there.” “I broke up with him! I’m not going!!” I thrashed harder, but Jaxon laughed: “Just for one day, stop being difficult.” Then everyone hurried toward Skylar’s house, too excited to wait. I fought desperately, but more kids held me down and forced me into a car. In despair, I grabbed Kai’s shirt: “Kai! If we go, we can’t turn back! You know this isn’t just a swimsuit show! The cops will come, and we’ll all lose our college offers!” “Stop causing trouble!” Kai frowned. My breath caught— Wait, wasn’t he from the future too? Why was he so willing to accept this fate? “I know what might happen,” he whispered, so only I could hear: “But Skylar isn’t like that. Someone must be setting her up. I need to find out who.” “Nobody’s setting her up! She’s doing it on purpose— Mmmph!” A rag got shoved in my mouth. A jock snapped: “You’re ruining the music! Shut up!” Tied to the seat, I stared at Kai, hoping he’d understand my silent pleading. But he got up and took a seat where he could see Skylar, never looking back. When we finally got to Skylar’s place and everyone saw the bikinis, they all gasped.

The guys stared, mesmerized by the extremely revealing designs. The girls’ cheeks flushed pink almost in unison. Only Kai frowned— He hadn’t expected the lingerie-like swimsuits from the crime scene photos in our past life to really be picked by Skylar. Skylar locked the door and tossed the keys to Kai: “Like them? I’ll model them for you later! Any other girls want to try some on?” The girls glanced at each other. One raised her hand: “Me!” Soon, others joined in. Many girls had crushes in the class and wanted to show off in front of them. I broke free and grabbed Kai’s arm: “See?” He turned to me. I tried to signal with my eyes how wrong this was: “Give me the keys. We can still leave before the police—” “She must have a good reason,” Kai pushed me away, pocketing the keys: “Don’t badmouth her if you’re not participating.” The scented air felt heavy, making my heart race. I rushed forward and kicked over a dozen bikini-clad mannequins: “Can’t you smell something off about that scent! “Someone’s going to report us! If the police come, none of us will go to college!” Someone sniffed the air and also seemed uneasy. But Skylar pulled open the changing room curtain. A purple string bikini hugged her curves perfectly. She leaned against the wall, showing off her figure just right: “Violet, you’ll say anything to target me, won’t you? “I just wanted to throw a fun show to help everyone relax, and you can’t stand that?” The moment they saw her in that purple bikini, the doubtful guys were hypnotized. One snapped at me: “Enough! All you ever do is assume the worst about Skylar!” “You’re just jealous she’s prettier than you! But it’s true! Even your boyfriend thinks so!” The scented air made my vision blurry. My face felt hot looking at the guys. Staying here was dangerous. I had to get out. I slammed my body against the front door, kicking the lock. Skylar screamed. Several guys dragged me back. Jaxon stepped in front of Skylar: “She’s lost it! Lock her in the storage room! Don’t let her ruin Skylar’s show!” Skylar subtly linked her arm with Jaxon’s, smirking at me triumphantly. Jaxon stiffened. Seeing my panicked, tear-filled eyes, he gently removed Skylar’s hand and touched my cheek: “Be good. Graduation stress has everyone on edge. It’s just a fashion show. “I’ll come get you myself when it’s over.” “No!” I shook my head wildly, kicking and screaming, but the aroused guys shoved me into the storage room and locked the door. “Let me out! You’re ruining your futures!” I beat on the door like a madwoman, my hands swelling. Deafening music blasted outside, drowning out my cries and pounding. Soon, unsettling sounds mixed with the music. The scent was taking effect. To the beat, even more disturbing rhythms reached my ears. “What the hell is going on here!” A sudden shout cut through the music. I froze— The police?

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Eight years of marriage, eight years of biting my tongue, bending over backward to please the Albrights. All I wanted was to salvage this marriage of convenience. But it wasn’t until an unexpected pregnancy that Daniel’s family even bothered to give me a proper wedding. I foolishly believed that with a child on the way, Daniel would finally settle down. Yet here he was, right now, wrapped around Serena, kissing her with an intensity that made my stomach churn. My jaw clenched so hard it ached, my heart a raw, throbbing mess in my chest. In that instant, I was done. Done with holding back. Why did I always have to be the one to sacrifice everything? Chapter One My words clearly hit a nerve. Serena’s face drained of color, she swayed precariously, then collapsed into Daniel’s arms. “Oh, Daniel… I feel so terrible. Is my condition acting up again?” Daniel’s expression shifted instantly. He scooped Serena up and practically sprinted out of the hotel, throwing a furious glare and a parting shot at me. “Claire, you jealous shrew! If anything happens to Serena, I swear I’ll never forgive you!” Neither his parents nor my own father could stop Daniel. Camera flashes popped like firecrackers, blinding me, and the emcee stood awkwardly beside me. My father’s hand connected with my cheek with a stinging crack. “You useless girl! You can’t even control your own husband!” He then told me to sort myself out and stormed off, leaving me utterly alone. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Albright, eyed me coldly. “Claire, it’s not that I’m trying to lecture you, but what kind of scene are you making in front of everyone? You’ve chased Daniel away. Now everyone will be laughing at both our families!” In her eyes, joining the Albright family meant learning to swallow every indignity and suffer in silence. Never, ever embarrass your husband in public. How ridiculous was that? If that’s how it was, then I wanted out of this Albright family! The guests eventually dispersed. I gathered the heavy fabric of my wedding dress and walked out the door, watching car after car drive away. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder boomed, and the rain began to pour. Behind me, the banquet hall was a vast, empty void. It wasn’t until Daniel’s family car was long gone that my father’s car pulled up in front of me. The rear window rolled down, revealing his grim face. Any trace of vulnerability I felt was instantly swallowed. I fought back the tears stinging my eyes and choked out, “Dad.” Just as I reached for the door, I heard the click of the lock. I stood frozen in shock. My father’s voice, thick with fury, warned me, “Claire Hayes, this marriage was bought with your mother’s life! You better reflect on your actions and figure out how to get Daniel back.” “You’re carrying an Albright heir now. No matter what, Serena can’t compete with that.” “Dad, what are you talking about?” I asked, utterly aghast. He ignored me, instructing the driver to go. The window rolled up, and the car sped away, leaving me splattered with mud from the puddles. Watching it disappear, my tears finally fell, hot and fast. The hotel was a resort hotel perched on a mountain, and out here, there was no signal, no taxis. I borrowed an umbrella from a hotel clerk, not missing the pity in her eyes. Then, holding the heavy umbrella, my cumbersome wedding dress, and my high heels, I started walking down the mountain road. The rain was coming down in sheets, soaking me to the bone, and every step was excruciating. My heels were rubbed raw, bleeding. When I was halfway down the mountain, my phone finally caught a signal. A dozen missed calls popped up, all from Daniel. There was also a text message, demanding to know why I couldn’t tolerate Serena, claiming he only saw her as a sister now. I let out a hollow laugh. Daniel and I were childhood sweethearts. Serena, on the other hand, was just a student I’d sponsored in high school because she was struggling financially. When I was eighteen, Daniel came to my house to play. There was a fire, and my mother, with her last ounce of strength, pushed him to safety before perishing in the flames herself. Her final words were, “Daniel, take care of Claire.” We got engaged, and he promised he’d always be good to me. But in college, he met Serena. She used the excuse of thanking me for my help, but slowly, subtly, she wormed her way between Daniel and me. Until she completely captured his heart. The one who promised to protect me now had someone else he wanted to protect more. Chapter Two I snapped back to reality when my phone buzzed with a video. It was from Serena. In the video, Daniel was holding Serena, his eyes red-rimmed, repeatedly kissing her forehead and pleading, “Serena, please don’t let anything happen to you.” My heart squeezed tight. I remembered the time I was in a car accident, my legs crushed and fractured. I lay in a pool of blood, only to be taken to the hospital by a passerby. When I woke up, I begged them to call Daniel. He just coldly said, “If you’re not dead, why are you calling me? Am I a doctor? What can I do?” I stayed in the hospital for a month that time, but Daniel never once showed up. Later, I found out why. That day, Serena and Daniel had an argument, and she accidentally tripped down the stairs, spraining her ankle. He’d transferred all his anger and worry onto me. I took a deep, shuddering breath, filled with bitter self-mockery. It was ridiculous that it took me this long to realize I’d wasted eight years on a man who wasn’t worth it. I finally reached the bottom of the mountain and was about to hail a taxi when Daniel’s call came through. The moment I answered, he started screaming. “Claire! Serena’s anxiety flared up because of you today! Get your ass over here and apologize right now!” I struggled to hold onto the umbrella, which was being tossed around by the wind. “I’m still at the hotel.” As I spoke, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and the rain intensified. Daniel paused, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “You’re alone at the hotel? They didn’t take you back? Where’s the driver?” “Forget it, I’ll come pick you up…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Serena’s tearful voice cut him off. “Oh, Daniel, is Claire still mad at me? It’s all my fault…” “I love you so much, I know I don’t come from a family like hers…” Daniel immediately started comforting her. A few seconds later, his voice roared through the phone. “Claire, what are you even upset about? You have to make such a big deal out of every little thing! If you could just be a bit more understanding, I wouldn’t have…” The last flicker of affection in my heart was extinguished. I forced a bitter smile and cut him off. “Daniel, let’s get a divorce.” “I won’t apologize to Serena. I’m vacating the position of Mrs. Albright for you two.” If they loved each other so much, then I’d just let that two-timing jerk and his conniving mistress have each other! He was the one who promised to take care of me forever, to love me for all eternity. That’s why I chose him so steadfastly. But why couldn’t he just control his own heart? After hanging up, I got into a taxi. When the driver asked where to, I didn’t hesitate. “The hospital.” The wind-driven rain lashed at my face through the open window. My heart, which had been numb with pain, slowly began to feel again. As I walked into the hospital, a nurse saw me in my wedding dress and asked if I needed help. I managed a small smile. “Could you help me schedule an abortion procedure?” The nurse froze, her eyes immediately filling with pity. As I was paying the surgery fee, I actually glimpsed Daniel and Serena. They didn’t see me. I overheard their conversation. Daniel said coldly, “Serena, Claire made a mistake, she needs to apologize to you!” “I’ve messed around with her for eight years, no one else would want her now. If she still wants to be Mrs. Albright, she’ll just have to obey.” I stood rooted in the corner, stunned. I thought after everything today, my heart couldn’t ache anymore. But it still did. As I lay on the operating table, I saw the child on the ultrasound screen, and tears welled in my eyes. The doctor said, “The baby is very healthy. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” “You can still discuss it with the father.” I thought of their faces, gritted my teeth, and said, “No, it’s fine. Please proceed.” Chapter Three After the surgery, I stayed in the hospital for two days. When I returned home, the house felt eerily silent and empty. It seemed Daniel had been with Serena all this time. Just as I thought that, Serena’s messages arrived as if on cue. It was a video. Daniel, wearing an apron, was in the kitchen, making her soup. Serena’s text read, “Claire, so what if you married Daniel? He only loves me.” I scoffed. She sent several more intimate photos. I clicked on her Ins profile. She’d posted a lot of updates these past few days: the highly sought-after Mr. Albright doting on her, taking meticulous care of her. Her followers were all gushing over how pampered she was. I screenshot all the evidence, saved it, then blocked Serena. After that, I packed my bags and moved into a hotel. I took a long bath, then collapsed onto the bed, utterly exhausted. I hadn’t gone to work these past few days, resting at the hotel. During this time, my father called me several times. When he found out I wasn’t with Daniel, he immediately blew up, screaming, “If you don’t get Daniel back, I don’t have a daughter!” I cut him off directly. “I won’t be with him anymore.” After hanging up, I blocked him too. When I returned to the office, I noticed my colleagues looking at me strangely. My secretary, Chloe, told me, “Ms. Hayes, it’s all over the internet! We had no idea you and Mr. Albright were married…” “Everyone thought Serena was Mrs. Albright.” Only then did I open the trending sections of various websites. The top headline blared – “High Society Wedding Drama: Bride-Snatching!” I quickly skimmed the articles. It was just the media capturing the chaos at the wedding and spinning a wildly dramatic tale of a wealthy groom abandoning his rightful wife for his mistress. Even Albright Corp. was now feeling the heat. Daniel’s call came in then. “Claire, you need to handle this online mess right away! What have you even been doing these past few days?” I let out two cold laughs. “Your own mess, Mr. Albright, you should come back and handle it yourself.” With that, I hung up decisively. In the past, I would have ungrudgingly helped him deal with any scandal. But now that I was divorcing him, what standing did I have to help? When I finished work, Daniel, uncharacteristically, was waiting for me downstairs at the company. He walked up, grabbed my arm, and without a word, shoved me into his car. “What are you still throwing a fit about? Serena almost died, and she’s not even holding it against you. Why are you so petty?” “You’re thirty years old, why are you still acting like a runaway teenager?” “Alright, I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant. Just stop being childish.” As he spoke, Daniel tossed a gift box at me. Inside was a butterfly brooch. The price tag was still attached to the box, a glaring six-figure sum in my currency that pierced my eyes. It made me think of how things used to be. Whenever Daniel and I argued, he’d buy me gifts, cook me delicious food, or make a list of things I could choose from to make up. But now, he had become so perfunctory. His affection was clearly priced, and he expected me to accept it without question. I ignored Daniel’s expression, which clearly said, “You should be grateful,” and casually tossed the gift box into the car. “I don’t like it. You should give it to Serena instead.” “After all, she’s already wearing my wedding ring from yesterday. What’s one more piece of jewelry?” At my words, Daniel’s face changed. I continued, “And I’m not ‘throwing a fit.’ I’ve just thought things through. Since you and she are so desperate to be together, I can make room for you. Just find a time to finalize our divorce.” It was funny, really. When Daniel and I first got married, he used the excuse of being “too busy” and wouldn’t give me a wedding. I didn’t mind. But at a party once, I saw him holding Serena in his arms outside the door, telling a group of friends, “I haven’t had much feeling for Claire for a long time.” “But her mother did save my life, and the Hayes family company is helpful to the Albrights, so giving her the title of Mrs. Albright is compensation enough.” “My love, though, is only for Serena.” The two of them kissed passionately amidst the cheers, and outside the door, I felt my heart being shredded. Our marriage was a calculation, a handout, an act of pity… And now, I didn’t want it. I didn’t care for it anymore.

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I found a box of ultra-thin condoms in Serena’s bag. Rose-scented. And half-used. My gut twisted into a knot. I was allergic to latex; I never used that stuff. Just as I was debating whether to call her, Serena beat me to it: “Honey, I have to meet a client tonight, so I won’t be home for dinner.” “Might be busy until midnight, so you go to bed early and don’t wait up.” “Love you!” I swallowed my surging emotions and asked, “Where are you meeting this client?” She hesitated for a few seconds before naming a well-known upscale hotel in the city. I snatched my car keys, didn’t waste another second, and drove straight to that hotel. Walking into the high-end restaurant on the second floor, I quickly spotted Serena by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sitting opposite her was a man in a perfectly tailored suit, exuding an air of easy confidence. I instantly recognized him as her boss, Blake, not a “client” at all. Candlelight flickered, casting an intimate glow on their faces. The table was laden with exquisite dishes and a bottle of red wine. I discreetly found a dimly lit corner and sat down. A waiter approached, and I casually ordered a drink, my gaze locked onto them. They were deep in conversation, Serena’s face adorned with a shy smile I’d never seen before. Blake said something, and she covered her mouth, giggling softly. Her eyes, as they met his, burned with undisguised affection. Later, they even raised their glasses, linking arms for an intimate toast right there in public. They didn’t seem to care who saw them. Blake leaned in and whispered, Serena’s cheeks flushed crimson, and she gave him a coy tap. From her lip movements, I could guess it was blatant flirting. Then came an even more sickening sight. Blake’s hand, so naturally, slipped under the table, resting on Serena’s thigh, which was clad in sheer stockings, gently caressing it. Serena’s body stiffened for a brief moment but she didn’t push him away. She just shot him a mock-reproachful glance. Blake moved closer, his voice low, but from the movement of his lips and a few hushed syllables that wafted over, I caught the meaning. “Baby, tonight… don’t go back…” Serena hesitated. “No, I can’t stay out all night. He’ll get suspicious.” “He?” Blake scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. “You mean Alex? Please. That predictable tech guy?” “What can he give you? A stable, poor life?” He paused, his disdain growing thicker. “With his meager paycheck, he can’t even make you happy, can he?” “Don’t you get bored with him?” “A man who doesn’t even know how to be exciting, does he even deserve to be called a man?” Serena didn’t object. She just lowered her head, nervously swirling the stem of her wine glass. I sat in my corner, blood rushing to my head. I wanted to storm over, smash that wine glass into Blake’s disgusting face, and grab Serena, demanding to know why. But I held back. Impulse wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make me look more pathetic and ridiculous. I would make them pay. In my own way, I’d make them regret everything they did today! They sat for a while longer, Blake’s hand never quite still. Finally, he waved for the check, then stood up, naturally slinging his arm around Serena’s waist. She half-resisted, half-yielded, and they walked out of the restaurant, heading towards the elevator to the hotel’s guest rooms. After watching their backs disappear, I waited another five minutes before picking up my phone. “How was the client meeting? I happened to be doing something nearby. When will you be done? I can pick you up.” Message sent. I placed my phone face up on the table and waited. I imagined the chaos that would erupt in one of the rooms upstairs when that message suddenly lit up the screen. Half a minute later, Serena finally called. “Honey, what are you doing here?” “Oh, just finished up some errands.” I said casually, my gaze sweeping over the empty restaurant. “You? Are you done? I’m downstairs, can come up anytime to get you.” “Ah? Co-come up?” Her voice shot up, then quickly dropped, panic almost spilling through the receiver. “No, no need! Uh… the client, the client isn’t quite finished yet. It might take a bit longer.” “How much longer?” I pressed, my tone still even. “Maybe… maybe an hour or two? I can’t really say…” She stammered. “How about you just go home first? I’ll just grab a cab when I’m done.” “It’s fine, I’m not in a hurry.” I leaned back against the booth. “I’ll wait for you in the restaurant downstairs. Just come down when you’re finished, or tell me the room number, and I’ll come up.” “No!”

She practically shrieked her refusal, then quickly realized her mistake and tried to salvage it. “I mean… the restaurant, the restaurant might be closing soon…” “How about this, I’ll ask the client if we can wrap things up early.” “Alright, then hurry. I’ll wait for your message.” Less than five minutes later, Serena came downstairs. I looked up. The dress she’d worn, perfectly pressed earlier, now had a few barely noticeable wrinkles. The nude stockings she wore had a small tear above the knee. A small patch of skin on her neck was flushed red, like she’d brushed against something, or perhaps been passionately kissed. Her usually smooth hair wasn’t as neat as when she left; a few strands had escaped their style, looking a little messy. Most striking were her eyes, filled with obvious resentment and a hint of annoyance at having her fun interrupted. I pretended not to notice, put on a warm smile, and walked towards her. “How was the client meeting? Did it go well?” She didn’t stop, walking straight out of the restaurant, her voice clipped and distant. “It was fine. What else could it be?” “I’m exhausted. Let’s just go home.” I nodded, asked no more questions, and followed her to the parking lot. All the way home, she stared out the window, her lips tightly pressed, not saying a single word. The silence in the car was suffocating. Back home, Serena kicked off her heels, tossed her bag onto the sofa, and walked straight to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower first.” I said nothing. When she came out of the shower, drying her hair as she walked into the bedroom in her nightgown, I tried to sound as normal as possible. “Honey, it feels like… it’s been a while since we were intimate.” “Tonight? Can we?” Her hand, drying her hair, paused. She didn’t look at me, continuing towards the vanity. “Not tonight, I’m too tired.” “I was busy all day at work, then had to entertain. I really don’t have the energy.” I’d expected this, so I simply hummed in acknowledgment and didn’t push. Just then, her phone, lying on the bedside table, lit up. I wasn’t far, and I instantly saw the two words flashing on the screen. Blake. She immediately grabbed the phone, her finger sliding to answer, and said to me, “The company probably needs me for something. You go to sleep first, don’t wait for me.” As she spoke, she hurried out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her. But it didn’t close completely, leaving a slight gap. I tiptoed to the door. In the living room, she was speaking in a hushed voice. “…Mm, got it… He’s not asleep yet… It’s fine…” Her voice held a softness and coquettishness I’d never heard before. “…Oh, don’t be impatient… It’s not tonight… Mm, tomorrow, I’ll definitely make it up to you, okay?” “I’ll wear my black stockings tomorrow… You can do whatever you want…” “Don’t worry, without your permission, I would never let him touch me…” Her voice trailed off, interspersed with shy, quiet giggles. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling none of the expected rage. Only a chilling stillness, and a nearly cruel clarity. About fifteen minutes later, I heard her hang up and her footsteps approaching the bedroom. I immediately got back into bed, lying down with my back to the door. Closing my eyes, I regulated my breathing, pretending to be fast asleep. She gently pushed the door open, paused for a moment at the entrance, seemingly observing me. Then, I felt the mattress on the other side slightly dip. She carefully lay down, trying to make no sound.

The next day was Saturday. I was the first to wake up. By the time I’d made a simple breakfast, she was just rubbing her eyes, emerging from the bedroom. “Any plans for today?” I took a sip of milk, asking casually. She lowered her head, stirring her oatmeal with a spoon, looking drained. “What plans could I have? Going back to the office to work overtime, of course. The project’s been hectic lately, and the client’s demands are high.” “Oh, take care of yourself.” She nodded, saying no more. She quickly finished her meal, then went to get ready, applying makeup and changing clothes. Before she left, she stood in the entryway putting on her heels. I watched her meticulously drawn brows and eyes, and her lips, a shade brighter than usual, and slowly began, “Will you be home for dinner tonight?” She opened the door, not looking back. “Not sure, depends on the progress. Don’t wait for me.” The door clicked shut. I walked to the window, looking downstairs. Soon, her familiar figure appeared at the community entrance, but she didn’t head towards the usual bus stop. Instead, she got straight into a black Mercedes that had appeared by the curb. The car windows were tinted dark; I couldn’t see inside. But I knew that car, and I knew who was driving it. I pulled out my phone and made a call: “Hey, Mark, I need a favor…” The midday sun was a bit blinding. Carrying carefully chosen gifts, I knocked on the Davies’ door without giving Serena’s parents any prior notice. Mrs. Davies’s face showed a flicker of surprise when she opened the door, quickly replaced by warmth. Mr. Davies also rose from the sofa, smiling as he came to greet me. “Alex, what a surprise! Serena’s not with you?” Mrs. Davies took the clearly expensive gifts from my hands, her tone cordial. “She’s working overtime this weekend. I thought I hadn’t visited you in a while, so I came by myself.” “Perfect timing! I’ll cook a few extra dishes. You must try my cooking!” The dining table was laden with food, and Mrs. Davies kept piling my plate. The conversation soon shifted from pleasantries to the main topic. “Alex, you and Serena have been together for years now. This wedding… isn’t it time to set a date?” Mr. Davies put down his forks, his voice tentative. I swallowed my food, a perfectly measured smile on my face. “Mr. and Mrs. Davies, don’t worry. I’ve already decided on the wedding, just waiting to discuss the exact date with Serena.” “As for the bridal gifts…” I paused, noting how they both unconsciously leaned forward. “My family and I have agreed: a million dollars cash.” I spoke calmly, as if discussing something trivial. Mr. and Mrs. Davies both froze, exchanged glances, unable to hide their astonishment. “And,” I continued, “a fully-paid luxury apartment downtown, no less than 150 square meters, and a BMW car. All registered solely in Serena’s name.” The air was silent for a moment. “A… a million? And an apartment and a car?” Mrs. Davies’s voice trembled, laced with disbelief and joy. “Alex, this… Serena never mentioned your family was so well-off?” I knew they would ask and had my answer ready. “Just lucky, I guess.” I smiled, my tone casual, with a humble air of “it’s not for public knowledge.” “A property deal back home came through recently, and we received a significant payout. My parents thought it was perfect timing for us to start our family.” The reason was simple, direct, and hard to verify. An unexpected windfall – a classic American dream, capable of explaining any sudden improvement in financial status. Their doubts vanished instantly, replaced by immense delight. Mr. Davies clapped my shoulder heartily, his face beaming. “Wonderful! Wonderful! Alex, knowing Serena is with you, we’re completely at ease!” Mrs. Davies couldn’t stop smiling, looking at me as if I were a shining goldmine. I sneered inwardly. See how realistic they are. Before, they were polite enough, but always with a hint of scrutiny and calculation towards an ordinary working-class prospective son-in-law. Now, with a million dollars, a house, and a car thrown in, their attitude completely changed. “Mr. and Mrs. Davies,” I continued to sweeten the deal, acting like the most dutiful son-in-law, “after Serena and I get married and settled, I’ll arrange a time to take you both on a trip to Europe. All expenses covered. You can browse, buy whatever you like.” “Europe?” Mrs. Davies exclaimed, her eyes sparkling even brighter. “Yes, France, Italy, Switzerland, you should see them all.” I smiled, painting a picture of a luxurious trip they’d never dared to imagine. “Oh my! This… how could we possibly accept!” Mr. Davies feigned refusal, but his face was creased with smiles. “It’s my pleasure,” I said sincerely. “To marry Serena is my good fortune, and to ensure her family lives well is my responsibility.” I spoke with such conviction, I almost believed myself.

Mrs. Davies grabbed my hand, moved. “Serena marrying you is her good fortune! Alex, you’re truly wonderful!” I smiled back, my smile flawless. Serena returned after 1 AM. Carrying the scent of smoke, alcohol, and men’s cologne. She kicked off her heels, her steps a little unsteady. Seeing me on the sofa, she paused. “Not asleep yet?” “Waiting for you.” I put down the book I hadn’t actually been reading, my voice calm. “I want to talk about the wedding.” She froze. “Why the sudden talk about this?” “It’s not sudden, we’ve been together for years.” “I went to see your parents today and discussed it with them.” She turned, her face full of surprise. “You went to my parents’? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Wanted to surprise you.” I smiled, walking towards her, observing the subtle shifts in her expression. “I told your parents my plans. Bridal gifts: a million dollars cash.” Serena’s fingers tightened around the water glass she was holding. I continued, “A fully-paid luxury apartment downtown, over 150 square meters, and I’ll buy you a BMW. All registered solely in your name.” The surprise on her face gradually morphed into barely suppressed delight, her eyes flickering. “Alex, you… where did you get all this money?” “Just happened to have an unexpected real estate windfall back home,” I said nonchalantly. “Didn’t want to say anything until it was confirmed. Now that the money’s secured, it’s time to set our wedding date.” The last trace of doubt vanished from her eyes, replaced by an almost burning glow. “You’re unbelievable, not telling me about something this big beforehand.” “However… you’ve already discussed it with my parents, so what can I say?” She took a step forward, gently leaned into my embrace, and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’ll do whatever you want.” After her shower, Serena emerged wearing a silk nightgown. She lay beside me, her arm draped across my chest, her eyes seductively alluring. “Honey, I want…” She tilted her head, her lips actively seeking mine. I suddenly remembered Blake’s words on the phone: “Without your permission, I would never let him touch me.” My stomach churned, and I felt on the verge of throwing up right then and there. A split second before her lips touched mine, I pushed her away. She froze. I sat up, took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I really don’t feel well today. My head’s spinning.” “And… there’s a lot to prepare for tomorrow.” “Let’s just get some sleep.” In the darkness, I could feel her gaze on me, filled with astonishment and a hint of rejected anger. But she said nothing more, silently turned over, and lay with her back to me. Soon after, I heard the steady rhythm of her breathing, whether real or feigned, I couldn’t tell. I, however, had no sleep in me. My eyes remained open until the sky began to lighten. … On the morning of the engagement party, while Serena was getting her hair done, I quietly picked up her phone. The password was still the one we’d set when we first started dating; she’d never changed it. The latest messages were from Blake, sent in the early hours. “The thought of you marrying him makes me sick.” “Where’s the dressing room? I’ll come find you before the ceremony.” “Wearing that gown… I want you right there.” “Consider it an engagement gift for Alex!” I smirked, silently placing the phone back. Screen down, as if untouched. Then, I pulled out my own phone and sent a message. “Dressing room, before the ceremony.” “Everything else, as planned.”

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He was just a bloodied street kid when he tattooed my name over his heart. Years later, he ruled the East Side—and called me his queen. Until his little starlet walked into our home, flaunting a fake belly. I told them to test it. She bled. He raged. He pressed a knife to my throat— So I pressed my gun to his heart. “You’ve changed, Silas. Good thing I haven’t.” Bang. The one who fell was Jax, Silas’s loyal, limping subordinate. “So you care that much? Right. That little starlet? Jax groomed her, carefully, perfectly, just to send her your way. To make you this furious with me, she must have some real talent.” My gaze dropped to the glint of silver at my throat. I scoffed. “Still hesitating? Silas, you weren’t this indecisive before.” “What’s wrong? Your hand’s shaking just holding a knife?” My mocking gaze cut him deep. In the silent standoff between our eyes, he finally broke. He tossed the knife aside and slumped back onto the sofa. “Jax has been with me for ten years. What you did… it’s ruthless.” I offered a sweet smile and had Jax dragged away. “He’s not you.” “I only go soft when it comes to you.” Silas looked at me, his eyes clouded with complex emotions. “I want to keep Skylar.” “This life, Raven, it’s been nothing but blood and brutality. I’m tired. Skylar… she’s like a quiet window, a breath of fresh air. She makes me feel like a regular guy, someone who could just… live a normal life. Go grocery shopping, cook dinner.” I didn’t rush to speak, setting my gun down beside me. I lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag before I spoke. “Normal?” “Silas, have you told her about the blood on your hands, the dirty money in your ledgers, the enemies knocking on our door in the dead of night? You drag her little world of quiet domesticity into our world? That’s not normal, Silas. That’s a death wish.” Silas frowned, clearly annoyed by my retort. “Raven, I’m not asking for your permission.” “I’m informing you.” He stood up, heading to the inner room to cradle a pale, still-unconscious Skylar Bell, whose bleeding had stopped. Her face, nestled in his arms, looked eerily like a younger me in the flickering light – maybe seventy percent there. “Raven, just settle into your role as the lady of the house.” “This is your last chance. If you dare touch Skylar again, I won’t hold back.” Silas strode away with his men. The wide-open door funneled a draft through the house, extinguishing the cigarette between my fingers. Dominic Cross approached from behind me, bowing slightly to relight it. He asked, “Your aim shifted. Did you go soft, Raven?” Through the swirling smoke. I repeated the word, my tone laced with mockery. “Soft? I never intended to kill him.” “Silas’s life? One bullet would be enough. What I want is the password to his Swiss bank accounts, the ledgers of his illicit dealings, and every single one of his legitimate businesses.” “Death, honestly, would be too easy for him.” Dominic’s heart, which had sunk at my supposed “softness,” now thrummed with the chill of my ruthless declaration. He asked a somewhat naive question. “Don’t you… don’t you love him?” Countless memories flashed through my eyes, leaving behind only a faint shadow of fatigue or nostalgia. “Love? Of course, I love him.” “Otherwise, these past ten years, following him through firefights and bloodshed, what else would it have been? A game?” “But, Dominic, love is a painkiller. Power? Power is oxygen. You can skip the pills and still live. But cut off the oxygen? You’re dead in minutes.” The moment I finished speaking. The mechanical clock in the living room chimed a few crisp notes. Dominic glanced at his phone, a new message displayed, and reported to me. “Latest news, Augustus Stone, the boss of the North Side, is dead. They’re calling it… a heart attack.” “Mm.” My single-syllable response was cold, almost indifferent. Dominic couldn’t help but step half a pace closer, his voice tinged with confusion. “Aren’t you surprised, Raven? He was your father.” The corner of my mouth curved slightly, something like a smile. “Why would I be surprised?” “I did it.” Dominic’s breathing hitched, his pupils constricted, the color draining from his face. I watched his pale face, my tone as calm as if discussing the weather. “I’ve cleared enough obstacles from my path.” “Even a biological father… isn’t an exception.” The orange glow at my fingertip burned to its end, and I casually crushed it in the ashtray. I looked at Dominic. “Now, any more questions?” Dominic lowered his head, not daring to ask anything further. I stood up, picked up the gun from the table, and casually gestured toward a room. “Didn’t Silas say he wanted to keep Skylar? Then let her stay.” “The show, it’s not too short for one more act.”

The crisp sound of footsteps echoed from the foyer. Skylar Bell’s sickly sweet voice carried through, as she bossed Silas’s men around, directing their every move with her luggage. “Careful!” “Silas bought this for me at auction, don’t you dare scratch it!” She stood in the luxurious villa, scanning her surroundings, her eyes filled with undisguised greed and provocation. Her gaze finally landed on my back, as I sat on the sofa, flipping through documents. She sashayed over to me. “Raven,” she cooed, “Silas said it’s such a lovely place here, and he wants me to move in, get along with you. You don’t mind, do you?” I didn’t even look up. I turned another page of the financial report, my voice flat and emotionless. “I do mind.” Skylar didn’t expect me to be so direct, unwilling to even bother with pleasantries. She froze for a moment, then her smile widened, now a smug, utterly foolish sneer. “It doesn’t matter if you mind.” “This is what Silas wants. He said that once I get familiar with company management, I’ll be the lady of the house.” She walked to the liquor cabinet, talking to herself. She picked up one of my collector’s crystal glasses. “This glass is lovely. Perfect for my smoothies.” Seeing that I still wouldn’t acknowledge her. Skylar simply sat down beside me, snatching the documents from my hand. “What are you looking at?” “You’re not allowed to look at these! From now on, only I get to see these files!” The crisp edge of the freshly printed page. Yanked from my grasp, it sliced a stinging line across my palm, a bead of blood blooming. Only then did I finally turn my gaze to Skylar Bell, my eyes cold and devoid of emotion, as if looking at an insignificant piece of trash. Honestly, it had been years since I’d seen someone so desperate to die. “Who let you in?” “Silas, of course! You’re just a…” I cut Skylar off, my voice still soft, but carrying an unshakeable pressure. “There’s only one master in this house.” Skylar was momentarily cowed by my aura. But then she stood up again, puffing out her chest. She looked down at me, triumphantly. “You’d dare touch me?” “Silas said yesterday was his absolute last warning. Lay a hand on me again, and he’ll kick you out so fast your head will spin!” I let out a soft laugh. The smile didn’t touch my eyes, and to Skylar Bell, it was a chill that went straight to her bones. I stood up, pulled the gun from my waistband, and reloaded it in front of her. “Touch you?” “That would just dirty my hands.” I suddenly raised my hand. Skylar shrieked, cowering, her hands over her head, eyes squeezed shut. The expected death didn’t come. My gun wasn’t aimed at her. It was aimed at the liquor cabinet behind her. The next second – CRACK! A crisp shattering sound exploded, and flying fragments even grazed Skylar Bell’s leg, leaving a deep, bloody mark. She froze in place, her face bloodless, forgetting even how to cry. “Filthy.” “Have it cleaned up.” Dominic immediately responded. I looked at the trembling Skylar Bell, then bent down. I warned her, word by word. “The last person who dared to throw a tantrum like that in front of me was Jax. I sent him to meet his maker yesterday. If you don’t believe me, I can arrange for you to join him and ask.” Finished, I straightened up and pulled out my phone, calling Silas. I put it on speaker. “You have twenty minutes to get your people and her trash out of my house.” “Otherwise, you can start planning a funeral.”

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For the thirty-eighth time, Brandon Hayes slapped Tiffany Stone’s name on my design and called it her promotion. I didn’t react hysterically as I usually would. Instead, I just shrugged, “Whatever makes you happy.” He always said his grandfather found me to make the family money. That I was a placeholder who’d stolen the fiancée title meant for Tiffany. It wasn’t until Tiffany tore up a cherished painting of mine, only to be falsely accused myself, that I finally understood why he was so obsessed with her. If he was so blind he mistook the wrong person for his ‘destiny,’ why should I keep suffering for nothing? When my best friend, Chloe Miller, found out I was planning to leave Brandon, she was ecstatic, practically incoherent. “Let’s order eighteen male models tonight to celebrate your escape from that hell!” I chuckled, glanced at the growing shadow on the table, and hung up. Turning around, I saw Brandon casually asking, “Eighteen male models for what?” I suppressed a smile, vaguely replying, “New models the company just hired.” He didn’t press, but my gaze lingered on the bubble tea in his hand, and I felt a pang of something. “Craving it, aren’t you? It’s for you.” That fall, my SnapChat feed was flooded with couples flaunting their bubble teas. I’d begged Brandon for ages, but he never bought me one. I thought he was saving it to make up for it on a colder day, for winter. My heart fluttered for a second. I pulled open the drawer, my hand brushing against my allergy medicine, when Tiffany’s sweet, innocent laugh echoed in the air. “Brandon, thank you for the bubble tea! It’s even better than the first one you bought me last fall.” His eyes were brimming with affection. “You can ask me to buy it for you anytime you want.” “Consider this bubble tea your treat for the whole company. As for your promotion gift, we’ll think of something else.” I froze, taking a long moment to process what he’d said. This bubble tea wasn’t because he’d listened to me, but because it was part of someone else’s celebration. Tiffany raised an eyebrow, “Maya, I specifically added double milk to yours. Hurry and try it!” Brandon, who never liked sweets, held the bubble tea cup that looked completely out of place in his hands, and explained to me. “Tiffany has brought in a lot of revenue for the company these past two months. The company decided to promote her to Design Director. From now on, she’s your boss.” “You must obey her without question.” I nodded, not arguing. But I pushed the bubble tea in front of me away. “I’m allergic to dairy. I can’t drink even a drop.” The moment the words left my mouth, Brandon’s face darkened. “And here I thought you’d finally learned to behave. Tiffany just started, and you’re already trying to pull rank and show her who’s boss just because she’s new?” Tiffany quickly stepped between us, her voice a tearful sob that would melt anyone’s heart. “Brandon, please don’t argue because of me. I understand. It’s hard for people to accept someone like me, who’s only been working for less than a year, becoming a director.” Brandon tenderly wiped away her tears. “With me here, no one will dare spread rumors.” When he looked at me again, his eyes were filled with blame for my “misbehavior.” “You were whining about wanting one earlier, and now you’re playing games again. Why do you always have to be so dramatic, always trying to make things difficult for others?” My eyelids twitched. So he remembered. He just didn’t want to buy it for me. My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. The thought of wanting to have a normal boyfriend-girlfriend interaction with him, even knowing the allergic reaction would be awful… I scoffed at myself. I was being dramatic. Brandon left, cradling a sobbing Tiffany who looked close to fainting. I sighed, suppressing the bitterness in my heart. Just as I finished typing my resignation letter, a colleague brought me a freshly bought lemonade. “Mr. Hayes said these drinks are a treat for everyone because of Director Stone’s promotion. He specifically told me to record you drinking it as proof, Maya. Please, help me out.” Not wanting to make things difficult for my colleague, I took a sip. But not long after, my body started to feel hot, and red splotches appeared on my skin.

At the hospital, I was told all the doctors were busy. After waiting for ages, an intern nurse finally came. “Your allergy is quite severe. I’ll arrange an IV drip for you right away.” Bored, I pulled out my phone and saw a SnapChat story Tiffany had posted five minutes ago. “OMG! Boss spends ten grand on high-concentration, colorless, odorless creamer just to get back at an employee!” The comments below were all praising her. “Director Stone, you should have seen Maya, she looked like a giant lobster.” “Director Stone, Mr. Hayes spoils you so much, are you two getting serious?” My heart gave a sharp pang, and my eyes welled up with tears. Brandon was strictly against office romance. Outside of work hours or official business, I was never allowed to even set foot in his office. If we met in the hallway, I had to stay at least three feet away. Once, eager to share some good news with him, I accidentally smiled and looked at him. He deleted and blocked all my contacts, and even changed the locks on our apartment. I had to live in a hotel for a month before he finally forgave me. “Don’t do that again. I don’t like it.” So I tried my best to become the person he wanted, becoming the “ice queen of the office” that colleagues secretly joked about. However, ever since Tiffany arrived, all his so-called principles vanished overnight. They were inseparable, having afternoon tea and watching movies in his office, laughing and chatting. They even orchestrated a poll that named them the most compatible couple in the office building. Five years of my life meant nothing compared to three months with her. He wasn’t against office romance; he just hated me getting too close. While I was on the IV, I overheard a few nurses talking. “Is that Mr. Hayes’ girlfriend? She cried until her eyes were red, and he booked every doctor in the hospital to be on standby. Oh my god! It’s like a romance novel CEO coming to life, so dramatic!” I stared at the dripping IV, suddenly remembering a stormy night a year ago. I’d been hit by an electric scooter while delivering documents to Brandon, scraping my face. When I finally limped to him, he just pressed a napkin to my wound, his brows furrowed. “Go home quickly. Don’t scare anyone.” Since then, no matter how badly I was hurt, I’d hide it well. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony of his indifference. Back home, I started packing. While sifting through some books in his study, a yellowed drawing slipped out and fluttered to the floor. The background was an amusement park, and the figures were two children. A wave of familiarity washed over me. Before I could think about it further, an angry shout came from the doorway. “Who told you to touch my things!” Brandon slammed into me, sending books tumbling from the shelves, raining down on my head with heavy thuds. My vision blurred, streaks of black dancing before my eyes. Along with it, a memory from my childhood flickered into focus. Brandon’s eyes were red-rimmed as he made sure the painting wasn’t damaged, then finally let out a sigh of relief. “This painting…” I started to speak, but he cut me off. “Tiffany gave this to me when she was a kid. It’s priceless. You couldn’t repay that, not in a hundred lifetimes.” Standing behind him, a flicker of guilt crossed Tiffany’s eyes. She tugged at Brandon’s sleeve, urging him. “Brandon, let’s just grab your things and go. Mr. Davies is waiting for us for dinner.” As they turned to leave, I called out to Brandon. “Are you sure that painting is Tiffany’s?”

Brandon frowned, about to speak, when Tiffany’s tears started flowing like a broken faucet. “Maya, why do you always have to fight me for everything? If it’s not mine, then whose is it?” As she ran out the door, Brandon’s flicker of doubt vanished. “Your lies are getting more ridiculous by the day.” He shot me a cutting glare. “I’ll deal with you when I get back.” Then he chased after her. I stood there for a while before continuing to pack. There wasn’t a huge amount, but not little either. My heart felt heavy. I tossed our shared mementos into a box, slapping a “junk” label on it. By the time I finished organizing everything, it was past midnight. My head felt light, the images of the amusement park from my childhood swirling repeatedly in my mind. I finally drifted off to sleep as dawn approached. But I was woken up not long after by the sound of a door being forced open. I opened my eyes to see several unfamiliar men rushing into the room. They dragged me out of bed. My face went chalk-white. Trying to suppress my panic, I said, “Who are you people? You know trespassing is against the law, right? Leave now, and I can pretend nothing happened.” But instead of letting go, their eyes shamelessly raked over my body. “Mr. Hayes sent us to bring you back to the company. You messed with him, you’re gonna pay the price.” Hearing they were Brandon’s men, my heart eased a little. He was probably still mad about Tiffany crying last night. After a night of restless sleep, all the repressed memories had resurfaced. I wasn’t afraid to confront them about the painting’s origin. “Wait outside. I need to get dressed.” The men smirked. “Why bother? You look good just like that.” They ignored my struggles and forcefully pushed me into the car. I was wearing only a thin nightgown, and colleagues in the office building pointed and whispered as I was led through. Seeing my disheveled state, Brandon’s face showed a hint of displeasure. But just as his hand reached for his suit button, Tiffany, her voice laced with fury, accused me. “Maya Reed, you’ve gone too far! I put up with you targeting me, but how could you tear up the painting I gave Brandon?” The painting? Didn’t Brandon take it with him last night? I was confused. I looked up, meeting Brandon’s dark, menacing gaze. Any fleeting pity I’d thought I saw earlier must have been my imagination. I shook my head at him, calmly saying, “I didn’t do it. Don’t accuse me baselessly.” Brandon raised a hand. Soon, two people walked in. One was the colleague who’d given me the lemonade yesterday. Tiffany stepped in front of them, her voice gentle, but her eyes full of menace. “Don’t be scared. Just tell us what you saw last night.” As if on cue, they started speaking over each other. “Around eleven, we were just finishing overtime and about to leave when we saw Maya come back.” “She stormed into Mr. Hayes’ office, came out with something, and headed straight for the shredder.” “A few minutes later, she went back into Mr. Hayes’ office.” I listened in disbelief to their fabrications. But clearly, Brandon believed them. He picked up the shredded pieces, his eyes bloodshot, and kicked me hard in the chest. “With both witnesses and evidence, what more do you have to say?” I gasped for air. These so-called “proofs” were nothing but a baseless accusation. “I wasn’t even at the company last night. You can check the security footage to see if I did any of that.” Brandon seemed to have anticipated my words, and the surveillance footage was played. One glance, and my face went stark white.

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On my wedding night, my heart was soaring as the veil was gently lifted. But the face looking back wasn’t Damian’s. It was Liam, the “Idiot” son of Damian’s family’s housekeeper. Laughter erupted around us, mocking and cruel. Serena, Damian’s childhood friend, smirked, her voice dripping with fake pity: “Since the veil has been lifted, by tradition, you have to spend your wedding night with the groom.” Then she turned to Damian, batting her eyelashes. “I’ll make the sacrifice, Damian darling. I’ll keep you company tonight instead.” It was only then that Damian casually strolled in. “Chill out, Cassidy. It’s just a prank. Don’t be such a sore loser.” He shrugged, a dismissive sneer on his face. “Anyway, he’s an idiot. He won’t know anything. Spending one night with him won’t kill you.” His sarcastic tone, his cruel indifference – it made me laugh. A cold, bitter laugh. “If he’s the one who lifted my veil, then one night won’t be enough, will it?” My voice was icy. “If I’m marrying him, I’m marrying him for life.”

My bridesmaids, who had been expecting a harmless prank, stared, dumbfounded. “Are you serious, Damian? You want Cassidy to spend her wedding night with… with an idiot?” Chloe burst out, disbelief etched on her face. Ashley chimed in, “It’s your wedding day! Even a joke has limits!” Damian just scoffed, raising an arrogant eyebrow. “What’s it to you? My fiancée doesn’t mind, so why are you making a big deal out of it?” He walked up to me, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. “Last month, you publicly humiliated Serena and docked her half a year’s bonus. Tonight, I’m getting my revenge for her.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air. “Either you sleep with this idiot for a night, or… our engagement is off!” Threatened by Damian like that, I felt less anger and more a profound sense of absurdity. Last month, Serena, who was my assistant, accompanied me to an auction. But she ignored all my instructions, bidding recklessly during the auction. Our company ended up buying an artifact for far more than our budget. Afterward, I disciplined her according to company policy, and the incident spread through the office. Naturally, it gave Serena a bad reputation. But if she hadn’t ignored my orders, I wouldn’t have wasted hundreds of thousands of dollars. According to company rules, she should have been fired. I only docked her half a year’s bonus as a light punishment, mostly out of respect for Damian. Yet, Damian stubbornly insisted I was just finding an excuse to target Serena and make her look bad. No matter how I tried to explain, he wouldn’t listen, convinced I was cold and ruthless. He forced me to make a public apology, a statement that twisted the facts and painted me as an uncaring boss, all just to “make amends” to Serena. It cost me a lot of respect and damaged my professional standing. Only then did he reluctantly drop the issue. I thought that whole awful episode was behind us. I never imagined it would come back to haunt me like this. My heart, in that moment, turned to ice. To appease Serena, he was willing to orchestrate this ridiculous charade on our wedding day. I could already imagine the gossip, the ridicule that would follow. I’d be the laughingstock of everyone we knew. Damian’s posture screamed his certainty that I loved him too much to defy him. He was smug, convinced that even if this was an obvious trap, I’d willingly jump into it. But what he didn’t know was that even the most passionate love couldn’t endure such reckless extravagance and blatant disrespect. I let out a soft huff, tearing my gaze away from them. Instead, I knelt down on one knee in front of the man who was happily munching on wedding candy. I took his hand, looking up at him. “Liam, will you marry me?” The words had barely left my lips when Damian’s eyes widened, shocked. “Cassidy, are you insane?! I only told you to spend one night in the bridal suite with him. Are you actually going to marry this idiot?” Serena quickly grabbed his arm, whispering urgently, “Damian, calm down. Cassidy would never actually marry a fool like him. She’s just trying to provoke you, waiting for you to back down.” “If you lose your cool now, you’ll be playing right into her hands.” Hearing Serena’s words, Damian stopped, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Cassidy, make sure you scrub yourself clean before you come crawling back to me tomorrow. I don’t want to catch anything dirty!” When I ignored him, Damian rolled his eyes. “Well, if the bride wants to marry someone else, then we might as well make up for the bachelor/bachelorette party! Tonight, we party until we drop!” With that, he grabbed Serena and stormed out of the bridal suite without a backward glance. I remained kneeling, my hand suspended in the air, a hollow ache in my chest. Just then, a warm, soft hand gently touched my palm. I instinctively looked up, my eyes meeting Liam’s. He gazed at me, a soft smile slowly curving his lips. His voice was quiet, yet incredibly clear. “I do.”

I was taken aback. For some reason, Liam, despite his childish demeanor, had eyes that were surprisingly clear and bright when he looked at me. But the thought flickered and vanished; I didn’t dwell on it. I softened my voice, trying to coax him. “Liam, since you’ve agreed to marry me, we need to go to City Hall first to get our marriage license. Only then will it count.” I paused, looking into his eyes, and asked again, seriously. “This isn’t just playing house, Liam. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” Liam didn’t answer. He just clapped his hands happily. Seeing his pure, joyful expression, a bittersweet smile touched my lips. I drove Liam to City Hall myself. During the process, Liam was a handful. When it was time to sign, he held the pen and scribbled wildly, finally managing to scrawl his name crookedly. When it was time for his fingerprint, he found the red ink fascinating. He not only got it all over his hands but accidentally smeared some on his cheek. Liam just giggled foolishly at his smudged, cat-like reflection in the mirror. Soon, two crisp marriage certificates were handed to us. Liam clutched his certificate, his eyes sparkling, holding it to his chest as if it were the most precious treasure. Stepping out of City Hall, I called the driver. I gently stroked Liam’s head, my voice soft. “Liam, why don’t you go back with the driver for now? I have something to take care of, but I’ll be back soon.” Liam looked at me, confused, but nodded obediently. I changed direction, heading alone to that bar. When I pushed open the private room door, only Damian and Serena were left inside. He was meticulously wiping Serena’s mouth with a damp napkin. Her shirt collar was still stained with a bit of vomit. I remembered Damian had severe germaphobia. Once, when I had a bad cold and a fever, I accidentally threw up on the sheets in the middle of the night. He woke up, his first reaction to flinch back, pinch his nose, and snap at me, “Cassidy, that’s disgusting! Can’t you go to the bathroom if you need to throw up?” In the end, I had to change the sheets myself, struggling through my sickness, and he offered no words of concern. That very night, he went to Serena’s place. Yet now, he seemed utterly oblivious to the obvious stains on Serena’s clothes. Serena, somewhat recovered, her eyes hazy with drink, grinned when she saw me. “Cassidy, didn’t you say you were going to spend your wedding night with that idiot? What, regretting it already…?” Damian’s hand didn’t stop, but he gently admonished her, “Serena, don’t say another word.” Then he finally looked at me, his voice flat. “Cassidy, you’ve learned your lesson from today, so I won’t hold it against you. I’ll make up the wedding for you in a few days. I need to take Serena home first; she’s had too much to drink.” Seeing his concern for Serena, contrasted with the cold distance he always showed me, the already frozen part of my heart felt another stab of an ice pick—a dull, sharp pain. The last ripple of emotion in my heart settled into complete stillness. I nodded, then pulled the marriage certificate from my pocket. “Suit yourself. But there’s no need to make up the wedding. Liam and I already got married.” The moment Damian saw the marriage certificate in my hand, his face instantly turned ashen. “Cassidy, are you kidding me? You actually went and married that idiot?!” “I swear, you’re crazy. How could you do something like this? What will people say? How am I supposed to show my face after this?” Even now, all he cared about was his own reputation. After all, if people found out that the daughter of the prominent Montgomery Group abandoned him to marry an idiot, how much would he be ridiculed? At that moment, Serena, still tipsy, scoffed from the side. “Cassidy, I have to admire you. You’d go this far just to spite Damian. But if you want to embarrass yourself, fine. Why drag him down with you?” Hearing her words, I found it utterly absurd. They were the ones who told me to spend the night with Liam. When I said I’d marry Liam, Damian didn’t object. Now they’re blaming me? Serena suddenly dry-heaved again. Some of the mess splattered onto Damian’s sleeve. He yelped, but didn’t push her away. Instead, he anxiously scanned the room. The tissues in the private room were gone. His gaze landed on me, and he urged, panicked, “Cassidy, where’s your handkerchief? Give it to me, fast!” I froze. The handkerchief Damian was referring to was one he had personally embroidered when we first started dating, with our initials on it. He’d told me it was a token of his love, and I should carry it every day. For years, I had treasured it, never letting it leave my side. Now, he was asking for this precious keepsake so casually, to wipe Serena’s mess. My heart shattered into a million pieces. After a moment of silence, I pulled out the handkerchief, my face devoid of emotion. I didn’t hand it to him. Instead, I simply dropped it at his feet. “Damian, we’re done.” He bent down, picked up the handkerchief, and, still busy wiping Serena, impatiently yelled at me, “It’s just a damn handkerchief! Why are you making such a big deal? If it’s dirty, I’ll just wash it. I can buy you a new one later if I have time!” I ignored his words, turning and walking straight out the door. Later… There was no later for us. Seeing I didn’t stop, Damian grew even angrier. “Go ahead and leave, Cassidy! Do you really think I care about being with you?!” “You’ll regret this, eventually. Don’t come crawling back begging me then!”

It was late when I returned to the mansion. Liam was curled up on the living room sofa, asleep, still clutching the marriage certificate tightly. Seeing this, something in my chest softened. I walked over quietly, intending to help him to the bedroom. But Liam woke up with a start, his hazy eyes brightening the moment he recognized me. “You… you’re back.” “Yeah.” I bent down and smiled. “If I come home late from now on, you don’t have to wait up for me. Go to bed when you’re tired.” After settling Liam, I returned to my study. Just then, my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Damian. [Cassidy, come back and apologize to me now, and I might consider forgiving you.] [If you want to be mad and fight with me, fine. But you can’t marry that idiot to spite me!] I stared at the screen, my mind perfectly calm. The words that once could easily sway my emotions now just seemed annoying. I didn’t reply. I simply blocked Damian’s number. The world instantly felt clearer. Early the next morning, I took Liam out. For years, he hadn’t even had his own phone. I figured it would be easier to find him if anything happened. While setting up his new phone plan, I casually saved his number in my contacts. When it came to entering his name, I paused, then deliberately typed two words: “My Husband.” Just as we were about to leave, we ran into Damian and Serena right at the mall entrance. Damian’s gaze was like a knife, cutting through our clasped hands before finally settling on my face. He was a mix of anger and disbelief. “Cassidy, are you seriously still playing house? Dragging that… thatthing around town, aren’t you afraid of embarrassing the Montgomery family?” Serena chimed in, her tone dismissive. “Cassidy, that’s enough. Damian’s anger has passed. Just apologize, and this whole thing can be over.” “Excuse me. We need to go. I’m taking my husband to pick out a wedding dress.” I cut them off directly, my voice devoid of emotion. Hearing me address Liam so intimately, Damian completely exploded. “Cassidy! Have you forgotten how you begged me to be with you? Forgotten how you said you’d only love me your whole life?!” “How long are you going to keep up this charade with that idiot? Are you seriously not going to marry me?!” I stared back at him, then calmly replied, “That’s right, Damian. I don’t want you anymore.” As his face drained of color, I shielded Liam and walked past him.

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I crashed my car, breaking my leg and getting a concussion. When I woke up, Julian Blackwood, my boyfriend’s enemy, was standing by my bedside, yelling at me: “Throwing your life away for a man? Your mom might not judge you for that, but I sure as hell do.” His words annoyed me. I glared at Julian, irritated. “Who are you?” Julian frowned, staring at me in confusion for a long moment before saying, “I’m your fiancé.” My mom and Julian’s mom both thought I had amnesia. They sat by my hospital bed, chiming in, one after another, telling me all about Julian and my supposed relationship. “You used to trail after Julian, calling him your ‘future hubby’ even when you were just a little kid.” “From kindergarten to high school, you two took the same car to school every single day.” “You officially started dating in college.” “After graduating, both you and Julian returned to your family businesses.” “You loved each other deeply, a perfect couple.” My mouth twitched. I cut them off. “Then why would I try to end my life for *another* man?” They both stiffened. Mrs. Blackwood was quick-witted. She dabbed at her eyes, letting out a soft, theatrical sob. “It’s all Julian’s fault. I told him not to go drinking with his secretary, but he just had to.” I looked at Mrs. Blackwood, asking, “Did he cheat on me with his secretary?” Mrs. Blackwood froze, then quickly shook her head. “No!” My mom joined the act, dabbing at imaginary tears in the corner of her eye. “He just went drinking with his secretary, and you got upset.” Julian’s secretary was a guy. Why would I get upset? I bit back a smile and asked my mom, “So I got mad and decided to kill myself?” My mom squeezed my hand. “Chloe, promise me you won’t do anything foolish again. You scared your mother half to death.” Mrs. Blackwood also squeezed my hand. “Chloe, you and Julian need to get married soon. Don’t worry, if he dares to drink with his secretary again, I’ll break his legs.” Drinking with someone hardly warranted breaking their legs. I looked up, meeting Julian’s eyes. He’d been standing silently behind them the whole time. Didn’t he say he was my fiancé? You wanna play games? Two can play at that game. “Will you marry me?” I asked him.

Julian’s dark eyes locked onto mine, a gaze so intense it felt like it could pull me in. “As long as you’re willing, I’m willing.” He said. My heart pounded when I heard that. The two moms weren’t entirely making things up. The Miller and Blackwood families were old friends. Julian and I were born in the same month, the same year; he was only three days older than me. From the moment they knew our genders, both families practically groomed us to be a couple. From preschool to college, we attended the same schools. They even pulled strings to make sure we were always in the same class. It wasn’t until college, when we chose different majors, that we weren’t in the same classroom anymore. Julian and I were *too* close. I swear I knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe it was that familiarity, but I’d never felt that heart-fluttering sensation with him. During college, I met Ryan Hayes, a gentle guy, and *he* was the one who made my heart race. Ryan and Julian were rivals, enemies. *I* pursued Ryan. When I confessed my feelings, he didn’t reject me. We had a very sweet relationship. My parents saw there was no spark between Julian and me. After trying to convince me otherwise, they eventually gave in and approved of my relationship with Ryan. It was only after I started dating Ryan that I learned he had someone else in his heart: his first love. I told him I didn’t mind, that it was all in the past. Julian, of course, called me an idiot, and his hatred for Ryan just intensified. I’d always wanted to get married, but Ryan was hesitant. Then, one day, he suddenly proposed to me. I later found out he proposed on the same day his first love got married to another man in America. The day before our engagement, he got a call from his first love. She was crying on the phone, saying her husband had beaten her. Ryan hung up and told me he was going to America to bring her back. I looked at Ryan, my voice cold. “What do you mean, you’re going to America to bring her back? Are you trying to kidnap someone else’s wife?” Ryan frowned, displeased. “Haven’t you seen all the horror stories online about domestic violence? Serena’s all alone, miles away in America, being beaten by her husband. Do you have any idea how helpless she must be?” “Can’t she call her parents? Can’t she call the police?” I shot back at Ryan. Ryan’s tone grew angry. “Chloe, stop being so unreasonable! I’ll still get engaged to you when I get back. You’re the only woman I’ll marry.” I looked at Ryan, my expression calm. “Tomorrow is our engagement party.” Ryan came over and pulled me into his arms. “We’ll postpone the engagement. I’ll pick Serena up and we can choose a new date.” I pushed him away. “If you dare to go find her, we’re over.” Ryan still flew to America to find his first love. As I drove home after our argument, I got into a car accident. Both the Blackwood and Miller families thought I tried to end my life because of Ryan. When I woke up from the crash, my irritation with Julian and my question about who he was, they all mistook it for amnesia.

The doctor came in and examined me. Once my mom and Mrs. Blackwood knew I was out of danger, they slipped away. They said Julian would take care of me and help me regain my memories. With them gone, only Julian and I were left in the luxury VIP suite. Julian stood by my bedside, looking down at me. My left leg was in a cast, my head wrapped in bandages. I didn’t need a mirror to know how awful I looked. I licked my cracked lips. “I want some water.” Julian went to pour water and helped me drink it. After drinking water, my appetite slowly returned. I said I wanted porridge, and he made it himself. I said I wanted soup, and he cooked it himself. Watching him busy in the VIP suite’s kitchen felt like being a child again. Julian was a Blackwood heir, but he wasn’t one of those spoiled rich kids who only knew how to party. He wasn’t just handsome and smart; he was also an excellent cook. In elementary school, I loved his noodles. In middle school, I loved his braised pork. After college… I hadn’t eaten his cooking anymore. After I started dating Ryan, Julian either ignored me or just snapped at me. His eyes would turn cold whenever he looked my way. I looked at Julian. Now, I was a person with “no memory.” I deliberately teased this somewhat stiff man. “Are we really deeply in love?” Julian turned to look at me. “You have a mole on the arch of your foot, and two small hypertrophic scars on your back.” His gaze darkened, settling on my chest, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “You have a little red birthmark just under your right breast. So, tell me… how deep do you think our connection goes?” My cheeks flushed. The mole on my foot, fine. The scars on my back, fine. But that red birthmark on my right breast? How did he know about that? I discovered it when I was eighteen. It was in a very hidden spot; no one could see it when I wore a bra. I silently fumed. He’d definitely seen me naked, somehow! I glared at him, grinding my teeth. “Did you confess first, or did I?” Julian smirked. “I did.” I asked again, “When?” Julian truly treated me like I had amnesia. “After the exams, I gave you a card.” My mind went blank for a second. I remembered. After the exams, we walked out of the classroom together. Julian pulled me to a maple tree and asked me how I thought I did. I smiled brightly. “I feel pretty good about it.” He handed me a card. “This is for you.” I took the card. It was a photo of a famous piano master performing on stage. He knew the artist was my idol, but a week before the exam, my idol had a massive scandal, a total fall from grace. The thought of his scandal made me feel like my hands were dirty just holding the card. I looked for a trash can to toss it. Julian’s voice came from above me. “You don’t like it?” I nodded. “No, I don’t.” His voice changed subtly. “Didn’t you look at the words on the back of the card?” There were words on the back? I dutifully flipped the card over. The handwriting was elegant, with a confident flourish. [There’s a woman I can’t forget the moment I see her. A day without her, and I ache with longing.] My first reaction when I saw those words was: *Seriously? Is this plagiarized?* Julian’s voice came again. “Still don’t like it?” That piano master’s moral issues were just too severe. If I still liked him after *that*, I’d be a complete idiot. I said, “No, I don’t.” Then I threw the card away. Looking back now, I realized Julian’s face had been terrifyingly grim, with a hint of pained desolation. I stared at Julian, stunned. Was he confessing to me then? And I threw away his confession card right in front of him. Wasn’t that a blatant humiliation? No wonder he left the country right after the exams and didn’t come back until the first day of college. And no wonder his gaze was always so icy when he looked at me, always keeping his distance— I pursed my lips, stammering, “I… I didn’t know…” If I had known he was confessing to me then, I would never have said I didn’t like it. Strange. Why couldn’t he have just *said* it? Julian shook his head. “It’s normal that you don’t remember many things from before since you lost your memory. I’ll be by your side from now on, and I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

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