Category: English

My brother was diagnosed with a tumor. The doctor said if he’d come in a day later, he’d be dead. The surgery was $200,000. After three days of calling everyone he knew, my father had only managed to borrow $80,000. I went to my uncle’s house. He was in the living room counting cash from a recent property buyout—eight million dollars, stacked high on his coffee table. The moment I explained why I was there, my aunt slammed the door in my face. “Lend you money? In your dreams! Do you think our money grows on trees?” From inside, my uncle yelled, “Tell her to give up! They won’t get a single cent from us!” I stayed outside his door all night. By morning, I had knelt until my knees were bruised black and blue. In the end, it was my colleagues who crowdfunded the money for the surgery. Ten days later, at my cousin’s wedding, the hotel kitchen exploded. The bride was permanently disfigured. My uncle came to me, sobbing, begging me to pull some strings and find an expert. “We’re family! You have to help us!” I clutched my phone, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Family? Are you sure about that?” 1 The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering against the hospital’s ice-cold linoleum floor. I didn’t bother to pick it up. My brother, Paul, had something growing in his brain. The doctor had just told me the tumor had ruptured. It was pressing on a critical nerve. Another day, and he would have been gone. Surgery was the only option, and it had to happen now. The cost: two hundred thousand dollars. My father, Daniel, was crumpled in a corner at the end of the hallway like a discarded piece of newspaper. His graying hair was a mess, and the cigarette in his hand had burned out. A small graveyard of cigarette butts lay at his feet. “Nina,” he rasped, looking up at me. His bloodshot eyes were clouded with tears. “The money… there’s not enough.” He opened a black plastic bag and showed me the contents. It was filled with crumpled bills—tens, twenties, fifties, with a few hundreds on top. The money was worn and carried the faint smells of sweat, smoke, and dirt. “I spent three days calling everyone. The guys at the factory, relatives back home, anyone who would listen.” He held up eight fingers, then let his hand fall limply to his side. “Eighty thousand. That’s all I could get.” Eighty thousand. We were still one hundred and twenty thousand short. The red light above the operating room door glared at me like the eye of a demon. A nurse bustled out. “Family of Paul Brooke, when will the fee be paid? If it’s not settled soon, we’ll have to stop his medication.” A shiver shot through me, my blood turning to ice. I rushed to the observation window and peered inside at my brother. His face was ghostly pale, his lips colorless. Tubes snaked from his body, and the lines on the monitor beside him beat with a faint, fragile rhythm. He was only twenty-eight. He’d never been married, had never really had a chance to see the world. “Nina,” my dad said, pulling himself up along the wall. He stumbled over to me, his lips trembling. “Maybe… maybe we should go see your uncle?” My uncle, Harold. My father’s own brother. The name was a needle piercing my heart. “I heard,” my dad continued, his voice barely a whisper, “that they got a huge payout for their old property. Eight million dollars.” Eight million. A number so large I couldn’t even picture it. My uncle’s cruel face and his wife’s acidic stare flashed in my mind. They had looked down on our family my entire life. My dad was a simple man, my mom’s health was poor, and we were always struggling. Every visit to their house felt like we were begging for scraps. “Dad, they won’t lend it to us,” I said, my voice hoarse. “We have to try, Nina! We have to! It’s your brother’s life on the line!” He grabbed my arm, his nails digging into my skin. “I’m begging you. Please.” For my brother’s life. Those five words shattered what was left of my pride and hesitation. I nodded. Half an hour later, my dad’s battered old electric scooter brought us to the gates of a lavish, gated community. The security guard stopped us, his eyes dripping with disdain. After my father bowed and scraped his way through an explanation, the guard grudgingly let us pass. My uncle lived in a ground-floor home with a large yard. We could hear the clatter of poker chips and raucous laughter from the driveway. “Full house! Pay up, pay up!” That was my aunt Brenda’s voice. “Wow, Harold, what a winning streak! With Lily’s wedding next week, it’s like good fortune is raining down on you!” a man’s voice flattered. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. The music and laughter paused. The door creaked open, and my aunt Brenda peered out. She wore a silk pajama set, her hair in perfect curls. The moment she saw us, the smile vanished from her face, replaced by a look of pure disgust, as if she were staring at a pile of garbage. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she sneered, leaning against the doorframe and sizing us up. My dad forced a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Brenda, we… we need to talk to Harold about something.” Brenda didn’t invite us in. She just opened the door a little wider. Through the gap, I saw it. Under a massive crystal chandelier, on a mahogany coffee table, sat stacks of hundred-dollar bills. A mountain of red-banded cash. The eight million dollars. The sight of it was blinding. Swallowing my humiliation, I spoke, my voice trembling. “Aunt Brenda, my brother… Paul is sick. He needs an emergency surgery, it costs two hundred thousand dollars. We were hoping… we could borrow some money to tide us over.” Brenda’s eyebrows shot up as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Before she could speak, my uncle Harold shouted impatiently from the other room, “Who is it? What’s taking so long?” “Who do you think?” Brenda yelled back, her voice dripping with scorn. “It’s your deadbeat brother and his daughter. They’re here to borrow money.” I saw Harold get up from the poker table. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and in his hand, he held a small bowl of plump, dark cherries. The expensive kind, hundreds of dollars a pound. He sauntered to the door, spat out a pit, and barely bothered to look at us. “Borrow money?” he scoffed. “How much?” My dad rushed to answer. “Two hundred thousand! Harold, I’m begging you, please, save Paul’s life!” Harold finally lifted his gaze to meet ours. He looked at us like we were two flies buzzing in his ear. “Two hundred thousand? Has your family gone completely insane?” Before he could say more, my aunt Brenda stepped forward and slammed the heavy oak door shut, the wood nearly smashing into my nose. “Lend you money? In your wildest dreams! Do you think we have money growing on trees?” her shrill voice cut through the door, thick with undisguised malice. “If he’s sick, he should just die! Don’t come here and spread your bad luck all over our family!” My dad’s face went white. I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms I thought I might draw blood. From inside, Harold’s voice boomed, louder now, full of irritation and venom. “Tell her to give up! They won’t get a single cent from us! Tell them to get lost, right now! They’re an eyesore, and they’ll bring bad luck to my daughter’s wedding!” The door sealed us off from their world, and with it, sealed off my brother’s only path to survival. My dad swayed, as if all the strength had been sucked out of him. 2 “Harold! Open the door! Harold!” My dad started pounding on the cold steel door like a madman, the blows echoing in the quiet evening. “I’ll kneel! I’ll beg you on my hands and knees! Please, just save Paul!” And then he did it. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground before that closed door, bowing his head again and again, his forehead hitting the hard concrete with a sickening, hollow thud. “Dad! Get up!” My eyes burned as I rushed to pull him up. He shoved me away, tears streaming down his weathered face. “Nina, leave me be! As long as we can save your brother, my life means nothing!” Suddenly, the door cracked open. My uncle Harold’s face appeared in the gap. There was no pity in his eyes, only disgust and annoyance. He kicked out, not hard, but with a deliberate, humiliating slowness that landed on my father’s shoulder. “Are you going to get lost or not? Stop your damn wailing out here. It’s bad luck!” The kick sent my dad sprawling. A roar filled my ears, and all reason fled. I lunged forward, shielding my father with my body, and stared straight into Harold’s eyes. “He’s your own brother! Have you no soul?” “Soul?” Harold laughed as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He pointed a thumb back into the house, toward the pile of cash. “Did a soul get me all this? Let me make it clear for you. Every single penny of this money is for my daughter Lily’s wedding of the century. Forget two hundred thousand, I wouldn’t give you two dollars!” Behind him, Brenda emerged with a broom and started swinging it at us as if we were vermin. “Get out! You two paupers! Bad omens! Get out!” Dust from the bristles flew into my face. My dad tried to shield me, taking a hard smack from the broom handle across his back with a muffled grunt. They drove us out of the yard like stray dogs, and the gate slammed shut behind us with a final, decisive click of the lock. The sky darkened. The city lights began to twinkle to life, one by one, but not a single one could pierce the darkness in my heart. I helped my dad to his feet. He was still muttering, “How could this happen… how could this happen…” We didn’t leave. My dad insisted we wait, that maybe their hearts would soften overnight. So we stood there, outside that cold iron gate. Two lonely sentinels, guarding an impossible miracle. Later that night, it began to rain. The icy drops soaked through my clothes, but I didn’t feel the cold. I was just numb. My dad was shivering, his lips turning purple. I begged him to go home, but he refused. All I could do was let him lean against me. I stared at the brightly lit house, the sounds of their laughter echoing like a cruel joke in my head. Slowly, I slid down the wall until I was sitting. Then, I straightened my spine and knelt on the wet, puddled ground. My father knelt for the bonds of blood and brotherhood. I knelt for the life of my brother, hanging by a thread. And so, father and daughter, we knelt outside my uncle’s house all through the night. The rain stopped at dawn. As the first light broke through the clouds, I realized I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. They were numb and shot through with a pain like a thousand needles. I looked down. My pants were soaked, clinging to my skin. At the knees, two horrifying patches of deep purple had bloomed through the fabric. With a creak, the gate opened. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest as I looked up. But it wasn’t my uncle, and it wasn’t my aunt. It was my cousin, Lily. She was dressed to the nines, a new designer bag looped over her arm. She froze when she saw us kneeling there, then her face twisted into an expression of utter disgust. She didn’t approach. She stood at a distance, pulled out her phone, and I heard the distinct click of the camera shutter. Then came the soft tapping of her fingers on the screen. A few seconds later, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from a distant relative, who had just shared Lily’s new post. The picture was of me and my dad, kneeling pathetically at her gate. The caption read: Some poor relatives are so shameless when they want money. Blocking our gate first thing in the morning. So gross! Anyway, off to get my nails done for my fabulous wedding! At that moment, my well of tears finally ran dry. I used the wall to haul myself to my feet. Every movement sent a jolt of agony through my knees. I watched Lily’s retreating back, the sway of her hips and the click of her heels, and the despair in my eyes slowly hardened into ice. I swore to myself, from this day forward, Nina Brooke would never beg anyone for anything ever again. Just then, my phone began to vibrate violently in my pocket. It was the hospital. I answered, and a nurse’s cold, clinical voice came through the line, sounding like a final judgment. “Is this the family of Paul Brooke? If you do not pay the surgical fee, we will be forced to cease all treatment as per regulations. This is your final notice. You have until 10 AM today.” The line went dead, and the world fell silent. 3 I dragged my broken body and my hollowed-out father back to the hospital. The hallway reeked of antiseptic, a smell that was cold and hopeless. At the nurses’ station, the nurse saw me, shook her head, and pointed at the billing statement. “Ma’am, you’re running out of time.” I stared at the paper, feeling the last of my strength drain away. Where else could I get the money? Sell a kidney? Take out a loan from a shark? As my mind went blank, the head of my department, Dr. Adler, appeared, walking quickly toward me with several of my colleagues. “Nina, what’s going on? You haven’t been answering your phone,” Dr. Adler said, his brow furrowed. He was in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, but his eyes were always sharp. I lowered my head, my voice a broken whisper. “Dr. Adler, I…” I couldn’t get the words out. “I heard about your brother.” He glanced at me, then turned to the colleague beside him. “Is everyone notified?” “Yes, sir. Everyone in the department, and even a few of the families of patients Dr. Brooke has treated…” Before he could finish, my phone chimed. I pulled it out instinctively. It was a bank transfer notification. [Chase Bank: A direct deposit of $5,000.00 has been made to your checking account ending in XXXX.] I froze. Then, the chimes started coming one after another, a frantic, beautiful symphony. [Venmo: You’ve received $2,000.00.] [Zelle: You’ve received $800.00.] [Bank of America: A direct deposit of $10,000.00 has been made to your checking account.] The notifications poured in, a torrent of names—some were my colleagues, others were strangers. My hands began to shake. I looked up at Dr. Adler and the others. They were all smiling at me, their eyes full of encouragement. “Sir, this…” “I posted about your situation in our department’s group chat,” Dr. Adler said, his voice quiet but firm. “Nina, you’re a good doctor. You have a bright future. We’re not going to stand by and watch you get crushed by this.” The tears I had held back for so long finally broke free, fat drops splashing onto my phone screen, blurring the ever-climbing numbers. Less than half an hour later, my phone vibrated again. It was a message from the head nurse. She had sent a screenshot of the hospital’s internal employee relief fund page. The fundraiser had been started by Dr. Adler. Target Goal: $120,000. Current Progress: 100% Funded. In less than three hours, the impossible sum had been raised. I clutched my phone, sank to the floor, and buried my face in my knees, sobbing. These weren’t tears of despair. They were tears of rebirth. The surgical fee was paid immediately. The operation was a success. When the lead surgeon walked out of the OR, pulled off his mask, and said, “The patient is out of danger,” my father collapsed onto the floor in a heap. I leaned against the wall and let out a long, shuddering breath, feeling like I could finally breathe again. The next day, I went to see Paul in the ICU. He was still unconscious, but his vitals were stable. Dr. Adler came by on his rounds. After checking on my brother, he walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Nina, take some time to pull yourself together. You have real talent. Don’t waste it.” He looked at me, his eyes full of expectation. “There’s a national symposium on burn science in the capital next week. I want you to prepare a presentation. You’ll be representing me.” I was stunned. A conference of that caliber was something Dr. Adler always attended himself. Only the most senior attending physicians were ever invited to join him. “Dr. Adler, I…” “I trust you,” he interrupted. “Seize this opportunity. Learn everything you can. Don’t let anyone look down on you.” I nodded fiercely, a warm current spreading through my chest. It was then that I fully grasped it. My mentor, Dr. Adler, wasn’t just a respected figure in our city—he was one of the foremost experts in his field in the entire country. That evening, with my dad watching over Paul at the hospital, I went back to my apartment to grab a few things. My phone lit up. An electronic invitation from an unknown number. It was a gaudy, red-and-gold invitation with a picture of my cousin Lily and her fiancé. She was smiling, her expression arrogant. The host was my uncle, Harold. He actually had the gall to invite us to his daughter’s wedding. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to parade his eight million dollars in front of all his poor relatives, to show off his daughter’s “wedding of the century.” I let out a cold laugh and was about to block the number. But then, a thought stopped me. Why not go? They had humiliated my father, ground his dignity into the dust. If I didn’t push back, I would choke on that bitterness for the rest of my life. I was going. I wanted them to see that we hadn’t been broken. My brother was alive. And I, Nina Brooke, was back on my feet. I walked to the mirror and looked at my reflection. The woman staring back was thin, her eyes shadowed and bloodshot. But deep within those eyes, the fragile, pleading weakness was gone. In its place was a cold, hard, and determined light. 4 The wedding was held at the city’s most luxurious six-star hotel. To show off, my uncle had booked the entire grand ballroom. The entrance was lined with a fleet of luxury cars—a Rolls-Royce, a Bentley, a Maybach. It looked more like an auto show than a wedding. Our family of three arrived on my dad’s old electric scooter, a stark contrast to our surroundings. The greeters at the door didn’t even try to hide their disdain. Inside the ballroom, a man in a tuxedo hurried over, a plastic smile plastered on his face. “And which side of the family are you with?” My dad gave our names. The man scanned his list for a long moment before finding us tucked away in a corner. His smile faded. He pointed to a small, isolated table. “You three can sit over there.” It was a spare table, shoved right next to the fire exit, a world away from the main seating area. It was like an island for exiles. There were no flowers, no fine china, not even a proper centerpiece. My dad’s face flushed a deep red. He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. My mom tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter where we sit.” I helped them to their seats, my heart a block of ice. The ceremony began. My uncle Harold, beaming, strode onto the stage. He was wearing an expensive custom-tailored suit and holding a microphone, his voice echoing through the hall. “Thank you, to all our friends, family, and esteemed guests, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to attend my daughter Lily’s wedding!” He paused for dramatic effect, then raised his voice. “A lot of people say old Harold got lucky, made a little money from a property deal. Well, I’ll tell you all today—it was eight million dollars! Not much, just a little pocket money for my daughter! Her wedding dress today? Eighty-eight thousand! Her jewelry? One hundred and twenty thousand! The cars outside? That’s over thirty grand a day just to rent!” The crowd responded with a chorus of feigned gasps and sycophantic applause. Harold reveled in it, waving his hand magnanimously. “So please, everyone, eat and drink to your heart’s content! No gifts necessary! I, Harold Brooke, can certainly afford it!” I watched him preening on stage, a wave of nausea washing over me. Soon, the bride, Lily, appeared in her diamond-encrusted gown, her arm linked with the groom’s. She began making her rounds, her face a mask of smug satisfaction. Like a peacock fanning its tail, she deliberately stopped near our table and said loudly to her friends, “Oh, look, even my poor relatives managed to show up.” A few of the garishly dressed women with her giggled into their hands. Lily walked over to our table and looked down at me, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Cousin, long time no see. I heard your brother was on death’s door? Did you even bring a gift today?” She spoke just loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. Instantly, all eyes were on us, hungry for drama. My dad began to tremble. He reached into his pocket and shakily pulled out a small envelope. It was crumpled from being clutched in his hand for so long. “Lily, congratulations. This is… this is a small token from our family.” The envelope was thin. Inside was the two hundred dollars my mother had insisted we give. “We have to observe the proper etiquette,” she’d said. Lily didn’t even glance at it. She pinched the envelope between two fingers, her nails glittering, as if she were holding something foul. Then, she turned and whistled at a small, fluffy dog that was chewing on a bone nearby. “Waffles, fetch!” With a flick of her wrist, the envelope containing my parents’ dignity fluttered through the air and landed near the dog’s mouth. The dog sniffed it, then promptly tore it to shreds. A wave of laughter erupted from the nearby tables. My mother’s face went sheet-white. My dad, shaking with rage, shot to his feet. I placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook my head. I looked at Lily’s triumphant face, feeling no anger, no urge to argue. I just watched her, as if she were a clown in a cheap circus. Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Dr. Adler. I stepped away to a quiet corner to answer. “Nina,” Dr. Adler’s voice was calm and steady. “You’re at the wedding at the Grand Majestic Hotel, right?”

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On my deathbed, I gathered the last of my strength to lift a glass of water, my hand trembling violently. But my daughter slapped it away, sending water splashing across the sheets. “What’s the point of drinking? You’ll just live a few more days. Aren’t you tired of this?” “If you’re going to die, just get it over with. I’m waiting to collect the sympathy cash!” Tears streamed down my weathered face. “Why?” I finally choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?” She rolled her eyes, slowly pacing over to my bed. She leaned in close, her voice a cruel whisper. “Because you were poor. Because you were pathetic.” “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve hated you since the moment I was born.” “If you didn’t have any money, why the hell did you have a kid? Couldn’t you just use a condom? No, you just had to have me!” “If it weren’t for you two, I could have been born into a good family, lived a life of luxury. But no, I had to be born to a pair of broke losers!” “So please,” she hissed, “if there’s a next life, stay the hell away from me. Don’t ruin my chances of being born rich.” So that was it. A single, bitter tear traced a path from the corner of my eye. I prayed to whatever was listening to grant her wish, and then, I closed my eyes for the last time. When I opened them again, I was reborn. 1 “Congratulations, ma’am. You’re pregnant!” The dizzying sensation of rebirth faded, and the first thing I heard was the doctor’s verdict. I froze, my eyes glued to the test results in my hand. Already pregnant? How could this be? Why was I reborn at this exact moment? The thought of bringing that little monster, that debt collector, into the world again made my legs tremble. In my last life, my daughter hated school as a child and hated work as an adult. She spent her days glued to her phone, constantly yelling, “You brought me into this world, so you have to take care of me! It’s not like I asked to be born. You two had your fun, and now you expect me to support you? Not a chance!” We tried to explain that we didn’t need her to care for us in our old age; we just hoped she could find a job, any job, to support herself. She’d just roll her eyes and snatch our wallets. “Why should I work? I have you, don’t I? You owe me. You have to support me for my entire life!” Honestly, we weren’t “poor.” We were a typical working-class family. My husband and I had scrimped and saved for years, buying a small apartment in the city and a ten-thousand-dollar car for commuting. We were doing okay, by normal standards. But “okay” was nowhere near enough to satisfy our daughter’s insatiable greed for luxury. After she had burned through our life savings, she used our IDs to take out one loan after another. My husband and I spent our final years hounded by debt collectors. It was a miserable existence. The memory of those days sent a shiver down my spine. Snapping back to the present, I grabbed the doctor’s sleeve. “Can I terminate it, doctor?” I pleaded. “Please, help me. I’m only six weeks along, it should be possible!” The doctor gave me a strange look. “Why would you want to do that? Weren’t you just considering IVF? Getting pregnant naturally is a good thing. Oh, I see. Are you worried about the baby’s health? Don’t be. From what we can see, everything looks perfectly normal.” I forced a bitter smile. She was right. My husband and I had always wanted children. We’d been trying for two years with no luck and had even started looking into fertility treatments. When I finally got pregnant, we were overjoyed. We treated our daughter like she was a miracle, our lucky star. Who could have known that our lucky star was a demon in disguise? I stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. Seeing my determination, the doctor sighed. “If you’re absolutely sure, you can. But I have to be clear with you. Your health isn’t ideal. If you terminate this pregnancy, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to conceive again. You need to think this through very carefully.” My heart clenched. “Why don’t you go home and discuss it with your husband? This is his child too, and I know how much he wanted this.” I walked out of the doctor’s office in a daze and sank onto a bench in the hallway, completely lost. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. A voice that wasn’t spoken aloud. “Hahaha, I’m back! And this time my mom is Sophia! This is awesome! I’m finally going to be a trust fund baby!” 2 I knew that voice. It was my daughter, Stella’s, voice! “Ugh, my last life was such a nightmare, being born to those broke losers. I couldn’t even afford a new skin for my game characters.” “This time, I’m going to live it up!” “I’m telling you, even a rich woman’s womb is different. It’s so much more comfortable in here than it was in that other one!” I frantically scanned the crowded hallway, trying to find the source of the voice. My eyes landed on a woman walking toward me. The voice was coming from her belly. And the woman was the very same “Sophia” Stella had mentioned—Sophia Sterling, the wife of my husband David’s boss. In my previous life, Stella had gone to work with David once. She’d come home in a rage, slamming doors and screaming at us. “Why aren’t you rich? Why are you so pathetic! Look at Mr. Sterling, look at Sophia, look at their son! Look at the life they live, and then look at mine! You’re such failures!” At the time, we thought it was just teenage angst. Now I understood. She had seen their wealth, and it had filled her with a toxic, burning envy. And in this life, she had actually been reborn in Sophia’s womb. And somehow, I could hear her thoughts. Sophia, holding her own test results, was heading toward the VIP clinic. As she passed, her belly was turned directly toward me. I quickly looked down. “Whoa, who’s this? Is that my broke-ass mom from my last life? Oh my god, look at what she’s wearing. Now look at what my mom is wearing. It’s like night and day!” “The reek of poverty is literally choking me.” “Looks like she’s pregnant too. Does she actually think I’m in there? Hah! As if. A phoenix doesn’t nest in a chicken coop. Get lost, loser!” The obnoxious voice faded as Sophia walked past. She hadn’t noticed me. Only when she was gone did I dare to look up. My hand drifted to my own belly. If Stella was in Sophia’s womb… then who was in mine? Could it be him? That poor, tragic little boy? A slow smile spread across my face. Oh, Stella. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Being a rich kid isn’t as easy as you think. 3 My mood lifted instantly. Anyone. It could be anyone, as long as it wasn’t Stella. With that realization, a wave of relief washed over me, immediately followed by the pure, uncomplicated joy of pregnancy. I truly, deeply loved children. When I got home, I ran to my husband, David, who was cooking dinner, and threw my arms around him. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. In our last life, Stella forced us to work at a diner when we were in our seventies. He was a busboy, and I washed dishes in the back. He worried about me, always sneaking back to help whenever he could. One day, he slipped on the wet floor and nearly fractured his spine. That was when we found out. He had advanced stomach cancer. He’d been hiding the pain for months to save money. The doctor told him he needed to be admitted to the hospital immediately. Stella caused a massive scene, screaming that “stomach cancer is a death sentence anyway, it’s a waste of money!” She physically dragged him home and tossed a bottle of cheap painkillers at us. I tried to fight her, screaming for our bank cards, but she just shoved me. I fell to the floor, helpless. I was in my seventies, frail and thin. I was no match for her. We had never laid a hand on her when she was young, and now, in our old age, she beat us. That night, David and I held each other and wept. In the end, he died in agony. After he was gone, the diner let me go. Stella, seeing I was no longer of any use, dumped me in our old hometown and never spoke to me again. She only showed up right before I died, to hastily arrange a funeral so she could collect the cash gifts from mourners. Remembering the horrors of my past life, the tears came in a flood. I sobbed uncontrollably, letting out all the grief and pain I had held inside for so long. David panicked, trying to wipe my tears away. “What’s wrong? Being pregnant is a good thing! Why are you crying so hard? Are you just that happy?” I wiped my eyes and nodded fiercely. “Yes! I’m that happy! From now on, our family is going to be happy!” 4 Our apartment wasn’t large, but it was cozy. David worked at a tech company, a junior manager with a small team under him. He made decent money. I was an accountant at a small firm, earning less. Neither of us came from money. Our parents were uneducated, and we had fought our way out of a small town to build a life for ourselves in the city. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t destitute either. This time around, all I wanted was to live out our simple, peaceful life. Three months later, David came home with an invitation. “Honey, my boss, Mr. Sterling, is getting married again. I hear she’s twenty-three and already pregnant. He’s thrilled, and he’s invited all employees and their spouses.” I stared at the gold-embossed invitation, hesitating. Ever since my rebirth, I had avoided any contact with Stella, terrified she might somehow recognize me. But then I reminded myself that she was just a fetus. What could she possibly do? So, I went with my husband. The wedding venue was breathtaking. A carpet of rose petals, crystal chandeliers, gold-plated cutlery. Even the party favors were from a luxury brand. Sitting on the embroidered cushion, I felt completely out of place in my simple dress. No wonder Stella turned out the way she did. The world of the rich was beyond anything an ordinary person could imagine. The bride appeared. And I heard Stella’s thoughts, a cascade of awe. “Damn, that’s my dad! He’s so freaking rich! This is insane!” “Oh my god, I’m going to have the best life when I’m born! I’m going to be a freaking princess!” “Tsk, tsk. My last life was such a joke. This is the life I deserve!” I rolled my eyes. In her last life, she refused to study. Now, she couldn’t even find a sophisticated word to describe a lavish wedding. “Hey, isn’t that my pathetic loser parents from my last life? What are they doing at my parents’ wedding? Do they even belong here? Get those paupers away from me!” The bride and groom made their way to our table. I forced myself to remain calm and picked up my glass. But then, I heard it again. “Ugh, do we really have to toast them? So annoying.” “They made my last life a living hell, and now they have the nerve to expect a toast? I don’t think so. It’s time I taught you two a lesson. Time you learned what happens when you mess with the rich.” A jolt of fear went through me. What was she planning? Then, Stella’s thoughts changed, her voice shifting into the high-pitched, cooing tones of an infant. “Mommy, I don’t feel so good looking at those two. I feel like they want to hurt me! Oh… my head feels dizzy!” Sophia’s expression changed instantly. Her eyes, now full of suspicion, darted toward us. Mr. Sterling dropped his glass and stepped in front of her protectively, his gaze hostile. My heart pounded in my chest. They could hear her too!

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The System came back online right as I was slapping the face of the psycho second male lead. His face was pale, his eyes dark and predatory. The System screamed in my head: [WTF? Host, have you lost your mind?] [The Villain’s corruption level is at 99%! Do you want to be locked in a cage?!] I looked at my stepbrother, whose eyes were filled with murderous intent. I explained innocently, “But he ruined the Hero’s family! I’m just standing up for the Hero!” Just as I was patting myself on the back, the System let out a sound of despair. [What ‘Hero’? Are you insane?] [Your capture target IS the psycho stepbrother!] 1 I was grounded by Julian Sterling again. This time, it was because he found a hickey on my neck. In the dim, low light of the basement bedroom, I was confined to the bed, a thin, silver chain around my ankle. The man knelt on one knee before me. His face was breathtakingly cold, tainted with a frantic rage. “Our Sienna has grown up. She dares to hide things from her big brother. She dares to be intimate with other men.” “Tell me. What is that bastard’s name?” His hand glided up my calf. With every inch he moved higher, he repeated the question with paranoid obsession. My breathing grew ragged. But I bit my lip hard, refusing to yield. The livestream comments in my vision scrolled by faster than I could read: [Omg, why is the heroine so dumb? Ignoring the hot, rich villain to simp for the loser hero?] [She’s got ‘love-brain.’ She’d die to protect that scumbag Gavin.] [Whatever, let her suffer. Once the villain snaps completely and drags her off to Siberia, she’ll learn.] Watching the comments, I sighed silently. I had no choice. Julian Sterling was the book’s villainous second lead, my nominal stepbrother. He was beautiful, gloomy, and totally my type. Unfortunately, I thought my mission target was someone else. “Julian…” I feigned obedience, wrapping my arms around his waist. My soft body pressed against his rigid form. “You misunderstood. It’s not a hickey. It’s just a mosquito bite.” “Is that so?” Julian’s expression didn’t change. He lowered his head and bit down hard on the sensitive cartilage of my ear. Ouch! Tears welled up in my eyes. Like a puppy, I kissed his cheek, pleading. “It’s true! Why would I lie to you?” The corner of Julian’s mouth twitched. He stared at my flushed face, his gaze darkening. “Fine. I believe you’re a good girl. Unless—” He paused, a suffocating silence filling the room. “—Unless you want me to kill that mongrel.” I shivered. Julian wasn’t exaggerating. His possessiveness was pathological. In the nineteen years since I transmigrated into this book, every member of the opposite sex who got too close to me ended up dead or insane. Until I completed the mission, I absolutely could not let him know about the “Hero’s” existence. To lower his guard, I drank the milk he offered and fell into a deep sleep in his arms. When I woke up the next day, the sun was high. It was already noon. I walked into the bathroom and nearly screamed. In the mirror, my lips were swollen. Underneath my silk pajamas, my skin was covered in a shocking array of red marks. Strange… 2 Were there really that many mosquitoes last night? Rubbing my aching waist, I pushed open the door to Julian’s study. “Julian?” I called out, my voice raspy. No answer. I looked around in shock. The massive villa was empty. Julian was gone. There was only a note on the desk: Urgent business trip abroad. Be good and wait for me. What? I couldn’t believe my eyes. Usually, whenever Julian left the country, he surrounded me with spies. This time, he took all the bodyguards with him? This was… a miracle! Blinded by joy, I didn’t question it. As soon as Julian’s private jet supposedly took off, I packed a bag and moved into the university dorms. My roommate, Lisa, was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted. She grumbled while helping me haul my suitcase up the stairs. “I don’t get you. You have a palace to live in, but you insist on squeezing into this shoebox dorm.” I smiled and handed her a small gift. “Thanks for the help! By the way, do you know where Gavin is?” Gavin. The supposed Hero of this book. The man I thought I had to romance. Nineteen years ago, I was born into this melodramatic novel. The System dropped one line—”Your target is the male lead”—and then crashed. Based on the chat comments, I identified Gavin. He was brilliant but poor. He only got into this elite university because of the Sterling family’s scholarship fund. Because of this, Gavin had a twisted inferiority complex. He held a strange hostility toward me, the Sterling heiress. “If you want to date me, stop looking down on me from your high horse. Show some sincerity,” he had sneered. “Don’t you agree, Princess Sienna?” To complete the mission, I had to humble myself and become his doormat. When he booked a hotel room with his childhood sweetheart, I paid for the protection. When he wanted a limited-edition sports car, I wrote the check without blinking. I had spent four million dollars on him behind Julian’s back. Only yesterday did Gavin finally relent and agree to “give us a try.” “Gavin?” Lisa thought for a moment. “He has a basketball game today. He should be at the gym.” My eyes lit up. “Perfect. I’ll go cheer him on!” As I turned around, the floating text scrolled frantically: [Oh god, she’s done for.] [Does the heroine not realize her roommate was bought off years ago? Lisa is Julian’s spy!] [Shh, nobody tell her. Let’s just wait until her eyes go vacant and she’s crying for mercy. She’ll regret this.] The game wasn’t a big one. When I arrived, it was already over. Gavin’s teammates saw me first and jeered, “Yo Gavin, your little ATM is here!” The boy on the bleachers looked up lazily. He was handsome in a scrappy way, surrounded by girls handing him water. He ignored them all, staring at me with impatience. “You’re slow. What took you so long?” I gripped the mineral water in my hand, panting slightly. “Didn’t you tell me to go to the track field?” It was ninety degrees out. I had been running around under the blazing sun for half an hour. I was drenched in sweat. If Lisa hadn’t corrected me, I’d still be there. Gavin ran a hand through his hair, feigning realization. “Oh. Maybe I tapped the wrong location pin. My bad.” He said “my bad,” but his eyes danced with hidden malice. I took a deep breath. He did it on purpose. He loved seeing me beg. 3 The comments were furious on my behalf: [I can’t. Be a doormat, get treated like dirt.] [Please, baby girl, look at the psycho villain! He’s rich, hot, and obsessed with you!] [Don’t bother. Her love-brain is terminal.] I ignored the text and forced a smile. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.” Seeing I wasn’t angry, the tension in Gavin’s shoulders relaxed. He took my hand naturally. “Let’s go. It’s your birthday, right? You said you booked a hotel.” I nodded, feeling awkward. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. A message from Julian. [Landed. Meeting partners now.] Recently, he’d been expanding into overseas markets. He must be truly busy. He had completely forgotten my birthday. My heart settled. I sent back a cute “puppy throwing flowers” sticker. [Rest well, Julian! I’ll be good and wait at home!] I was so focused on typing, I missed the flashing red text in my vision: [Girl, don’t believe him! The villain never left the country! He’s tricking you!] [RIP. She’s getting caught cheating in the next chapter.] [Please, Julian, punish her hard! Let her know the price of lying!] Night fell abruptly. The hotel ballroom was blindingly bright under the crystal chandeliers. I sat obediently in the corner. Not far away, Gavin was leading a group of his frat bros, acting like he owned the place. “Eat whatever you want, take whatever you want!” he shouted, drunk on expensive wine and power. “Today is my wifey’s birthday. What’s hers is mine!” The room was a mess. The gifts on the table had been torn open and looted by his friends. Some girls nearby whispered, “I can’t believe the Sterling heiress lowered herself to be a dog for a guy like that.” I sipped my wine calmly. But Gavin heard them. His fragile ego shattered. “Sienna! Did you invite these people to humiliate me?” He smashed his wine glass at my feet, his eyes red with anger. “You say you like me, but deep down you look down on me, don’t you?!” Here we go again. His bizarre insecurity. To soothe him, I walked over to the gossiping girls. I forced myself to say something disgusting. “You guys are just jealous sour grapes. Gavin lets me simp for him because he loves me. Why doesn’t he ask you for money?” The girls turned red with anger. “You—” But before they could finish, they suddenly went silent. Their eyes widened in terror, looking behind me. I felt a chill. “What’s wrong?” Before I could turn, Gavin’s face drained of blood. He stepped in front of me, bowing respectfully. “Mr… Mr. Sterling.” Huh? Mr… who? I froze. Trembling, I turned my head. The first thing I saw was a pair of eyes, smiling yet utterly devoid of warmth. 4 The man was tall, his bespoke suit fitting perfectly, radiating an oppressive aura of authority. It was Julian. “Sienna.” Julian smiled gently. He parted the crowd and walked toward me. I stiffened. “Brother…” “Mm.” His voice was lazy, yet it carried a terrifying chill. “I leave for one day, and you let others bewitch you… What am I going to do with you?” The blood drained from my face. Only one word echoed in my mind: Doomed. I felt like I was already dead. But Gavin, the idiot, couldn’t read the room. He was desperate to prove himself. He grabbed my hand and greeted Julian. “Mr. Sterling, hello. I’m your sister’s boyfriend—” Thud. Gavin screamed as he was kicked flying several meters across the room. “Get your filthy hands off her.” A polished leather shoe stomped down hard on Gavin’s fingers. Julian looked down at him. His gaze was cold, like he was looking at a dead dog. “This boy has lost his mind. Throw him into the ocean to clear his head.” Bodyguards swarmed in, tying Gavin up. This was bad. I panicked and blocked Julian’s path. “Brother—” Julian didn’t blink. “And pull out his tongue. Save him the trouble of speaking nonsense.” I couldn’t let this happen! If Gavin died, my mission failed! Desperate, I gritted my teeth and raised my right hand— Slap! A crisp sound echoed through the silent hall. I slapped Julian Sterling. Everyone stared in horror. Everyone knew the head of the Sterling Group was ruthless. No one dared to touch a scale on the dragon. I was the first with a death wish. “Brother! Gavin and I are in love! Let him go!” Julian tilted his head, saying nothing. He stared at me, his face pale, the violence in his eyes churning like a storm. After a long time, he laughed abruptly. “Sienna. For an outsider, you don’t even want your brother anymore?” “Good… very good.” Crap. He’s snapped. My heart pounded against my ribs. Just then, the System, which had been offline for years, finally rebooted. [Ding! Host, I’m back!] [Your mission is compl— AHHHHHH!!!] The chat comments vanished. Replaced by the System’s screeching breakdown. [WTF! Host, have you lost your mind?!] [The psycho villain’s corruption level just hit max! Do you want to be locked in a cage?!] I looked at Julian’s murderous eyes.

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I’d never given the new intern a second thought. So when he pushed my buttons, I marched right up to my wife, the CEO, and slapped two documents on her desk in front of the entire company. A letter of resignation, and divorce papers. “Tell him,” I said, my voice cutting through the office silence. “You choose.” The next second, the woman who had always been fiercely, irrevocably mine, the woman I thought would move mountains for me, picked up a pen. Without a moment’s hesitation, she signed her name on the divorce papers. “He’s just a kid, he’s insecure,” she said, her voice cold. “I won’t indulge your temper tantrums, Julian. Not now.” The confident smirk on my face froze, then shattered. I thought the new kid was just a clueless rookie trying to get ahead. Reality just slapped me across the face. Turns out, I was the clueless one all along. … The entire office was dead silent. I couldn’t bring myself to look at my colleagues, at the faces I’d known for years. Their stares felt like physical blows, a thousand tiny needles piercing my skin, making my whole body ache with humiliation. I reached for the divorce papers on the desk, trying to appear calm, but my hand trembled uncontrollably. Ten years. Ten years married to Evelyn, and everyone at this company knew how much she loved me. They’d seen the late-night soups she brought to my desk, witnessed the fire in her eyes when she defended me in meetings, saw the way her gaze would soften and light up whenever she looked at me. Now, all those memories twisted into razors, slicing into my heart, leaving me breathless. I forced myself to look up, to meet her eyes, desperately searching for a trace of the woman I knew, trying to salvage a shred of my dignity. “Evelyn, stop it,” I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper. “Everyone’s watching. Don’t make a scene.” Her gaze was like ice. There was no joke here, no game. “I’m not making a scene, Julian,” she said, her voice flat. “We’re done.” “Why?” The word scraped my throat, dry and raw. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifted slightly, her eyes moving past me to the back of the crowd, to where the new intern, Leo, had been standing in silence. The look she gave him was one I’d never seen before. It was a mixture of… indulgence? And… was that sympathy? Her eyes snapped back to me, her expression detached. “Like I said, he’s insecure.” “Julian, you only ever care about your pride, about winning and losing. Have you ever once stopped to consider how anyone else feels?” A kid? That man, a man in his early twenties, was a “kid” in her eyes, someone who needed protection? And I, her husband of ten years, the man who shared her bed and built this company with her, was now just some unreasonable tyrant throwing a tantrum? It was absurd. Utterly, laughably absurd. A toxic cocktail of betrayal and shame surged through me, burning away the last of my composure. I snatched the signed divorce papers from the desk and, in front of everyone, ripped them to shreds. “You’d humiliate me like this, in front of the entire company, for some pretty boy who just walked in the door?!” The paper fragments drifted to the floor like bitter snow. Evelyn watched me, her expression unreadable. When I was finished, she finally spoke, her voice still quiet but carrying the finality of a judge’s sentence. “My lawyer can have another copy sent to the house.” “Julian,” she repeated. “We’re done.” The second time she said it, the words hit like a physical blow. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. She didn’t even wait. She turned her back on me and walked straight toward him. Toward the intern. I watched as the young man, Leo, instinctively straightened his posture as she approached, his eyes holding a mixture of dependence and… was that a flicker of triumph? Evelyn stopped in front of him. She reached up and, with a gesture of practiced intimacy, gently straightened the collar of his shirt. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Don’t be scared.” In that instant, the last drop of blood drained from my face. The world went silent, replaced by a dull ringing in my ears. I was frozen, my body suddenly feeling hollowed out, devoid of all strength. The woman I was so certain would choose me, had just walked away and chosen another man, as naturally as breathing. All this time, I was the one who was out of my depth. I had lost. Utterly and completely. Evelyn turned to the gawking crowd, her composure absolute. “This company doesn’t care about seniority or personal connections,” she announced, her voice resonating with authority. “Every single employee is treated like family.” Her eyes darted to me, a clear warning in them. “And I will not tolerate anyone using their position to bully a new hire. I don’t care who you are.” Every word was a hammer blow to my pride, shattering my last illusion. Family? So that was her justification. Some noble, high-minded “company principle.” I was now officially cast as the villain, the petty executive “bullying a new hire,” the fool who tried to use a personal relationship to break the sacred “company rules.” The looks from my colleagues shifted. The initial shock and curiosity morphed into something else. Pity for the fallen executive was replaced by admiration for the “righteous CEO,” and a quiet contempt for my pathetic, self-inflicted humiliation. I could hear the whispers, just barely suppressed. “Wow, Julian really blew it this time…” “Seriously, threatening her with divorce? As if a woman like Evelyn would ever fall for that.” “He had it coming. He’s always been so arrogant. Finally met his match…” My face burned as if I’d been slapped, over and over again. I looked at Evelyn. She had expertly used the most professional means to uphold her company’s “integrity,” and in doing so, had used the cruelest means to publicly execute our marriage and my career here. After delivering her grand speech, she finally deigned to look at me again, her eyes filled with warning and impatience. She was used to being in control, used to the fawning respect of her subordinates. And she was used to me, always playing along, always making sure she looked good. It was our unspoken agreement. But as I looked past her, at the intern standing behind her with a smirk of victory on his face, I suddenly felt no desire to play along anymore. I nodded slowly. “Fine. I get it.” Evelyn nodded back, satisfied. “Good. You’ve been a profound disappointment today, Julian,” she said. “But since you understand your mistake, it’s not too late to fix this.” “All you have to do is get on your knees and apologize to Leo. Then we can put this whole thing…” Her words were cut off by a collective gasp from the crowd. I had snatched a water glass from a nearby desk and, with a flick of my wrist, flung its contents in her face. Her perfect makeup dissolved into streaks. Leo shrieked dramatically. “Julian! How could you do that to Evelyn?” I shot him a venomous look. “This is between my wife and me. When did you earn the right to butt in?” The sound of sharp intakes of breath filled the room. Even Evelyn stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. After years of compliance, she probably never imagined I would defy her so publicly. I looked straight at her, my voice low and dangerous. “Are you awake now?” Before she could answer, I turned my cold gaze on Leo. “Evelyn?” I repeated his familiar address. “How cozy. But as I recall, the company handbook is quite clear. All employees are to be addressed by their professional titles. No exceptions, not even for the CEO or Vice President.” I let my eyes sweep across the crowd, landing on the head of HR. “For a new intern to make such a mistake, does that mean HR training was inadequate? Or are there… some people… who can’t even remember the most basic company rules?” “If an employee is this incompetent,” I continued, my voice like steel, “according to company policy, shouldn’t they be terminated immediately?” The air in the room turned to ice. Evelyn’s face, smudged with running mascara, was a mask of fury. She looked at me as if I were a stranger, her eyes burning with the sting of challenged authority. The HR manager looked from me to Evelyn’s thunderous expression, his lips trembling, unable to speak. Finally, Evelyn found her voice. “Julian!” she roared. “Have you lost your mind?!” A humorless smile touched my lips. “I’m discussing company policy with you, Ms. Thorne.” I put a deliberate, mocking emphasis on her formal title, my eyes locked on Leo. “Are the rules written in black and white just for show? Or,” I paused, letting my gaze drift over Evelyn’s furious face, “is there a special exception for… special people?” Leo panicked, looking to Evelyn for help, his voice cracking. “Ms. Thorne, I… I didn’t mean to. I was just… I was worried about you…” I cut him off. “My wife. Needs you to worry about her?” “You just gave a speech about impartiality, about not playing favorites,” I said, turning the screw. “So please, enlighten us, Ms. Thorne. This intern, who can’t even remember the most basic company regulations, what should be done with him?” I had thrown the ball directly back into her court. She wanted to champion company rules? She wanted to be the picture of fairness? Fine. Let’s talk rules. Let’s talk fairness. Evelyn’s chest heaved. For a long moment, she just glared at me, before finally exploding. “Enough!” she yelled. “Everyone, get back to work! Julian, my office. Now.” I glanced at Leo, who was fussing over Evelyn, trying to dab at her face with a handkerchief. “No, thank you,” I said calmly. “The office is for business, not personal matters. Since you’ve already made your choice, Ms. Thorne, I respect it.” “I resign.” Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “We’ll talk about this at home tonight.” I didn’t wait for “tonight.” I went straight to HR and told them to process my termination. After the scene I’d just caused, no one dared get caught in the crossfire. They didn’t even bother checking with Evelyn; they just started the paperwork. I pulled out my phone and found an email from last month. It was a job offer from a rival company, Horizon Group, sent after I’d closed a big deal with them. I typed out a reply: I’m in. A moment later, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was ecstatic. “Julian! Excellent! I knew you’d come around. You’re a perfect fit for us.” “This is perfect timing, actually. We have a meeting tomorrow to finalize a partnership with your old company, Stellar Dynamics. I wasn’t entirely happy with their terms, but with you on board, we can consider any concessions a… parting gift to Ms. Thorne. I’ll schedule the signing for tomorrow. You know both sides, you can handle it. We’ll make it a combination farewell and welcome party.” He hung up quickly, as if afraid I’d change my mind. A second later, a message popped up on my screen. It was from Leo. It was a candid photo, slightly blurry, but the image was unmistakable. Evelyn, looking drunk, was pressed against Leo. They were kissing. I was about to close the app when my phone buzzed with an incoming call. Evelyn. I declined it. She called again. I declined it again. The phone stayed silent after that. It was always like this. Evelyn’s patience with me never lasted for more than three tries. And yet, on Leo’s first day, she had patiently explained the same simple task to him over a dozen times. I remembered it clearly. I’d gone to her office to discuss something. Through the glass wall, I saw her leaning over Leo’s desk, her finger tracing something on his monitor. I didn’t think much of it at first. But when I came out of my meeting, she was still there. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Your username is your employee ID. The default password is the last six digits of your social. Remember to check the caps lock.” Leo looked completely lost. “I’m sorry, Ms. Thorne, I’m… I’m so stupid.” “It’s okay,” she had said, not a hint of impatience in her tone. “Take your time. I’ll explain it again.” She leaned in closer, practically holding his hand as she guided him. A flicker of unease had gone through me then, but I’d quickly dismissed it. He was a new intern; of course he needed extra help. Evelyn was a demanding boss, but she was also supportive. I’d even laughed at myself for being so petty. Now, that memory returned with a new, chilling clarity. A dozen times. For an intern who couldn’t even log into his own computer, she had spent so much time, repeated herself so many times, with a patience that bordered on abnormal. And me? I remembered our first year of marriage. The company had just upgraded its systems, and the new interface was complex. I got stuck on a process and casually asked her for help. She was engrossed in a contract, and without even looking up, she’d snapped, her voice sharp with irritation, “Read the manual, Julian. Don’t bother me with trivial things.” Trivial things. Yes, compared to her ambitions, her grand vision, most of my problems seemed to be “trivial things.” As the company grew, we each took charge of different divisions, and I learned to stop asking her for help with work. Not because I didn’t need it, but because I had subconsciously adapted. I’d gotten used to being self-sufficient, to handling everything on my own. I thought that was our dynamic, the way a power couple was supposed to operate. But it wasn’t that she lacked patience. Her patience, her gentleness, her endless reserves of understanding… they just weren’t for me. Leo’s helplessness and incompetence brought out her nurturing side, her desire to teach and protect. My strength and independence had just become a license for her to ignore me, to demand my unending compromise. My phone lit up again. Not a call, but a text from Evelyn. Julian, can you please stop this? Be mature. I’ve already sent Leo home. I’ll be back late. We need to talk. Look at that. Even now, after everything, in her eyes, I was the one “making a scene.” I was the one who needed to “be mature.” Ten years of marriage. Ten years of what I thought was understanding and partnership. It was all a delusion, a story I’d been telling myself. She had been walking in a different direction for a long time, and I was the fool still standing in the same place. I typed back. There’s nothing to talk about. County courthouse. 9 a.m. tomorrow. Be there.

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I’m eighty years old this year. My husband passed away early, but my pension is substantial, and my health is excellent. Life has never been happier. Until one day, my granddaughter called me to help her catch a cheater. I grabbed my cane and ran out the door. Dammit, I always knew that boy had shifty eyes and wasn’t a good person. 01 When I arrived at the hotel, I saw my granddaughter arguing with the front desk. “I’m Jason’s wife. I already showed you our marriage certificate. Why can’t you tell me the room number?” “This involves customer privacy.” “What privacy? I came with Jason today, we just forgot the key card.” “There is no check-in information under your name.” The receptionist even added: “A wife should be more understanding of her husband. Being suspicious only harms your marriage.” My granddaughter’s face turned red with anger. I slammed my cane onto the front desk and lay down directly on the floor. Wriggling my body left and right like a caterpillar, I slowly crawled on the ground, moving from the front desk all the way to the main entrance, shouting as I moved: “This is a black-hearted hotel.” “They won’t reissue a room card.” “Bullying an eighty-year-old woman.” “Everyone, don’t stay here.” Halfway through shouting, I choked on my own saliva. I coughed while still remembering to wriggle. Several customers who had just entered the hotel were scared away by my antics. The manager rushed over, and the receptionist explained the situation to him. The manager squatted down and said to me: “Grandma, we really can’t tell you the room number. If your granddaughter can’t control her man, you can’t make trouble for our hotel.” What kind of nonsense is that? I don’t want to hear a word of it. Twenty-year-old me might have been helpless, but eighty-year-old me has plenty of tricks. I accelerated my wriggling towards a nearby customer, scaring him into screaming and running away. The manager’s face darkened: “Grandma, if you keep this up, I’m calling the police.” I nimbly changed direction and headed towards another person who had just entered the hotel. I deliberately used my feet to push, arching my back, crawling in an even more bizarre posture. “Call the police then. I’m almost a hundred years old. If the police let me out, I’ll just come back and lie down in your hotel.” “Let’s see if I die first or your hotel closes down first.” While the manager hesitated, I scared away two more customers. The manager, helpless, had to tell me the room number. My granddaughter hurriedly helped me up. After getting up, I felt a wave of dizziness and leaned on my cane to rest for a while. Sure enough, getting old means getting tired after crawling on the ground for a bit. As soon as my granddaughter and I arrived at the room, we heard laughter coming from inside, with a coquettish female voice being particularly prominent. My granddaughter’s eyes instantly turned red. Heart aching for her, I knocked on the door and shouted: “Housekeeping.” Jason grumbled as he came to open the door. My granddaughter slapped him right in the face. “Emily, why are you here?” My granddaughter pounced on him and started hitting him. I observed for a while, seeing she had the upper hand, and walked into the room. I saw a woman in her early twenties wrapped in a quilt, leaning against the headboard, looking at me in terror. “Girl, why are you being a mistress at such a young age? Are you Jason’s colleague?” The girl shook her head hurriedly and explained, “I just met him today. I provide door-to-door massage services.” Hearing this, my contempt for Jason deepened. Another man who can’t control his lower body. At this time, the dispute at the door became more intense. Slap! Seeing the crowd of onlookers growing, Jason slapped my granddaughter in exasperation. My granddaughter didn’t react, frozen in place, big tears falling straight down. Furious, I rushed forward and hit Jason on the head with my cane. Caught off guard, Jason knelt on the ground clutching his head. I hit his limbs and back indiscriminately, and he couldn’t straighten up from the pain. “Rebelling, are you? Cheating and daring to hit your wife.” “Let’s see you hit your wife again.” Someone called the police. Four officers arrived and pulled us apart. The police looked at me sternly, and I was a bit scared. Seeing Jason lying on the ground crying about pain, I was even more afraid of being at a disadvantage. So I also lay on the ground with a constipated look on my face. No matter what the police asked, I just said I hurt all over. Helpless, the police had to take us all back to the station first and call our families to pick us up. My son, Mike, rushed over and asked nervously: “Mom, are you okay?” I put on an expression of excruciating pain, then whispered: “I’m fine. That son of a bitch Jason hired a prostitute. Get them divorced immediately.” Using the excuse of taking me to the hospital for a checkup, Mike took me home to rest first. On the way, Mike promised me repeatedly that he would handle this matter well. Who knew that half a month later, during the Dragon Boat Festival, I was preparing a big table of food, waiting for the family to come home for a reunion. My granddaughter called me from outside. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Jason hugging my granddaughter, standing at the door with a smile. 02 Bang. I thought I was dizzy from cooking and hallucinating, so I subconsciously closed the door. The wind slammed the door against the wall with a heavy thud. A few seconds later, I opened the door again. Outside still stood my granddaughter and her whoring husband, only now their expressions were a bit stiff. I sighed and let them in. Looking at this situation, they had reconciled. I returned to the kitchen, chopping vegetables on the cutting board with a clang clang, getting more annoyed the more I worked. Before I retired, I was a chef. My cooking is delicious, and I enjoy it, so I’m always the head chef during holidays. But thinking that part of the food I worked so hard to make today would end up in Jason’s stomach made me angry. I’m eighty years old; I do what I want. So I quit. I went to the living room. My son and daughter-in-law had arrived, and they were chatting happily with my granddaughter and grandson-in-law, as if the hotel farce that day was just my personal hallucination. “I hurt my arm swinging my cane a while ago. It hurts especially today, can’t cook anymore.” “Jason, you go do it.” Jason stood up, face full of hesitation. My son wanted to speak for him but was silenced by my glare. Seeing no one helping him, Jason hesitated for a while but still went into the kitchen. On the sofa, seeing my displeasure, my granddaughter leaned on me, red-eyed, and said: “Grandma, I’m pregnant. The doctor said if I abort this time, I might not be able to conceive again.” “Grandma, I’m sorry for making you worry.” Looking at my granddaughter on the verge of tears, my anger vanished instantly, leaving only heartache. “So you’re not pursuing the matter with Jason?” “Mom, I talked to Jason’s family. That was a moment of confusion for him. He promised it won’t happen again,” my son explained. “Yes, he even wrote a guarantee letter by hand.” My granddaughter took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. I didn’t even bother to look. Even emperors’ edicts can be revoked; what credibility does a guarantee letter from a whoremonger have? I held my granddaughter’s hand tightly and said, “Your pregnancy is a good thing. As long as you’re happy, Grandma is happy.” My granddaughter’s eyes reddened again, ready to cry. At this time, Jason shouted from the kitchen that the food was ready. Looking at the plates of black, unrecognizable food on the table, I barely picked at some to eat. Ugh. Disgusting. “Jason, Emily is pregnant now. With your cooking skills, what will you do for meals?” I asked. “Grandma, we’re thinking about that too,” Jason replied. “I hired a cook last week, but her cooking was too heavy-handed; we weren’t used to it.” “Then find another one. Anything is better than takeout.” “Grandma, we were thinking,” Jason stammered, “could you come to our house to help cook? Your cooking is delicious, and you know Emily’s taste.” I was shocked. I’ve seen people leeching off their parents, but never seen leeching off grandparents. My granddaughter hurriedly added, “Grandma, I’m on leave to rest for the baby recently. It’s boring being home alone, and I hope you can come keep me company.” I took a big gulp of water and asked, “How much did you pay the previous cook a month?” “$400 a month, responsible for lunch and dinner.” “Fine. I’ll also be responsible for your breakfast. I’ll give you a discount, $550 a month.” “That price can hire a very good cook on the market,” Jason questioned. “Then spend the money to hire one,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m an old bag of bones. I should be enjoying my retirement, yet I have to help you young people.” “You didn’t originally think of not paying a cent, did you?” “Grandma, no problem, I’ll transfer the money to you,” my granddaughter replied. “You’re pregnant and on leave, where would you get money?” I said to Jason, “You transfer it to me. Pregnancy is 10 months in total, transfer $5,500 to me now.” Jason’s face turned green, but with our whole family staring at him intently, he succumbed to the pressure and transferred the money. Counting the amount received in my bank account, I said, “This money is just for cooking fees. I’ll ask you for grocery money every week.” 03 After staying at my granddaughter’s house for three months, exercising in the park every morning and square dancing at night, I knew the surroundings like the back of my hand and made a group of friends. One day, while preparing lunch as usual, I found that a commonly used seasoning had run out. Recently, my granddaughter became obsessed with Thai flavors, especially loving the refreshing yet slightly sour taste. Jason’s mother was overjoyed to hear this, constantly talking about “sour for boys, spicy for girls,” convinced that my granddaughter was carrying a son. Therefore, she specially sent a bottle of seasoning sauce, saying a friend brought it from Thailand. My granddaughter loved it and put this sauce in almost every dish, so it was consumed very quickly. I visited all the nearby stores in the past two days but couldn’t find the same sauce. Just as I was worrying, my new friend, Mrs. Fang, said her family also ate it often, and it was sold in an import supermarket 6 miles away from our community. After getting the news, I rushed to the supermarket by bus. Just as I was about to pay after buying the sauce, I saw Jason’s mother in front of the next aisle. I was about to greet her when I heard a young female voice talking to her: “Mom, we’re running out of Thai seasoning sauce at home, let’s buy some.” I remembered Jason is an only child; does he have sisters? Seeing them about to walk towards me, I subconsciously hid in a blind spot. At this time, I saw the girl’s face. I was struck by lightning, frozen in place. She was actually the masseuse from the hotel that night! She definitely couldn’t be Jason’s sister! What on earth is going on? Why did she call her “Mom” just now? It wasn’t until they paid and left that I reacted. No matter what, I have to follow them and see. I hurriedly finished paying; luckily, they hadn’t gone far. I ran a few steps first, then followed them from a distance, watching them affectionately holding hands and shopping. My heart beat like a drum as a terrible guess formed in my mind. Until they walked into a nearby community together. The community required access cards, so I couldn’t enter. But I remembered this community; Jason had mentioned his parents lived here. Is the masseuse living with Jason’s parents as their daughter-in-law now? I felt the world spinning. My legs had been walking intensely just now to keep up with them. Now that I finally stopped, I had to lean against a roadside tree to support my body and keep from collapsing. I thought of my granddaughter’s four-month pregnant body, her slightly protruding belly; I thought of a few months ago, my granddaughter telling me with red eyes that Jason promised to be loyal to the family in the future; I thought of a year ago, my granddaughter’s happy smile at the wedding. On the wedding day, thousands of flowers adorned the venue. I held Emily’s arm through the crowd, accompanying her up the stairs, her trailing white wedding dress shining with fine light. I watched her and Jason exchange rings and complete the ceremony. The ceremony concluded, countless ribbons burst forth. Under the ribbons were two happy faces. At that time, I thought they could be happy forever. For the first time, I hated my old age. I should have grabbed Jason’s mother and the masseuse by the collar, beaten them up, and made them give Emily an explanation. But I could barely keep up with them. A passerby handed me a tissue and asked softly, “Grandma, are you okay? Do you need help?” Turns out, unknowingly, my face was full of tears. I thanked the passerby and forced myself to return home. No matter what, I have to pull myself together. I have to let my granddaughter know about this. 04 When I returned home, it was already dark, and Jason had come home from work. Seeing me back, he sat on the sofa and pointedly said: “Grandma, you still need to cook earlier in the future. I’ve been hungry for an hour, and you just got home.” “Irregular meals are bad for Emily too.” Watching his hypocritical face, I almost threw up. I held back the urge to scold him and walked into the kitchen. Jason stopped me and handed me three bottles of Thai seasoning sauce. “I found we were running out at home. Since Emily likes it so much, I asked Mom to get a friend to buy a few more bottles from Thailand.” What Thailand, what friend. He asked his mistress to buy it at the supermarket at the community entrance, right? Disgusting. As soon as Jason left, I threw these sauces into the trash. At the dinner table, my granddaughter suddenly said: “Why does the curry chicken taste a bit different?” I tasted it; there was indeed a difference. Before, it was a sourness that stimulated the top of the head, now the flavor was much milder. “Grandma, did you not put the seasoning sauce today?” Jason asked. I frowned, suddenly feeling strange. Why does Jason care so much about the seasoning sauce? He never enters the kitchen at home usually; why could he discover the sauce ran out in time? These subtle doubts made me feel faintly uneasy. Usually, I would think this is Jason’s concern for my granddaughter. But since I’ve discovered his cheating, this excessive concern is extraordinarily unusual. “A friend gave me a bottle of Thai seasoning sauce today, didn’t use the one you gave. So the taste is a bit different,” I said half-truthfully. “Grandma, mine is the most authentic from Thailand, very expensive. Bought specially for Emily,” Jason said seriously. “The one given by others might have problems. Don’t give it to Emily anymore; she doesn’t like it either.” Bullshit. What problem could seasoning sauce have? It was obviously bought in the same store as yours. I was about to refute but suddenly realized something. “Okay, I’ll use the one you gave next time,” I pretended to agree. Jason nodded with satisfaction. After dinner, I dug through the trash and retrieved those three bottles of sauce. From the appearance, these three bottles were no different from the ones I bought today. Even the color of the juice was similar. I dipped my finger and tasted it. The taste was completely different. One was overly sour, while the other was slightly sour with a fragrance. The difference in the curry chicken taste today was indeed due to the sauce. How can identical appearances have different tastes? Could this really be the “authentic Thai” one Jason mentioned? But I clearly saw Jason’s mother buying the same sauce as me. I only felt my thoughts were chaotic and complicated. It seemed I was wandering in front of the truth, infinitely close, but unable to find the door.

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My flight was overbooked, and the flight attendant asked if I could take the next one. She offered me half the ticket price as compensation, and I happily agreed. But when the next flight arrived, it was overbooked too. I got compensated again, thinking this was a great way to make easy money. That was until the big screens showed mass flight disruptions. News reports flooded in: a chemical plant near the airport had exploded, and the entire airport was gradually being engulfed by spreading toxic gas. I realized then, I had been played by capitalism. 1 Toxic gas spread for dozens of miles around the airport. Public transportation was completely paralyzed; cars couldn’t get through. If we wanted to leave, the only way was by plane. A man from my original flight stormed up to the counter, confronting the flight attendant. “With something like this happening, I demand you put me on a plane right now!” The flight attendant patiently tried to calm him down: “Mr. Lewis, please stay calm. The crew is handling the situation. We will make an announcement as soon as we have specific information.” The man wouldn’t let up. “What kind of attitude is that?! I’m filing a complaint! If I’m not the first one on a plane, I swear I’ll report you!” I felt a growing unease. What if every flight was overbooked? Would I be stuck here forever? I walked up to the flight attendant, gathering my courage. “I was bumped from the 8:30 flight. I’ve already missed two flights. I’m in a bit of a hurry. Can I get on the next one?” The flight attendant kept smiling. “Please rest assured, I will do my best to arrange for you to board.” Her official response didn’t ease my worries. Behind me, other passengers stranded due to overbooking started mocking me. They all believed the airport would have emergency plans and that I was worrying over nothing. A young couple was the loudest. The guy sneered at me: “Has she never flown before? pestering the flight attendant like that. Planes don’t run on the ground; they’ll definitely take off on time.” The girl chimed in: “My baby is so smart! I feel so safe flying with you.” I was outnumbered and had no intention of arguing. But my anxiety wouldn’t go away, so I confirmed with the flight attendant again: “I’m in Business Class, so I’ll definitely get priority boarding, right?” The mocking behind me continued. Someone even questioned if I looked like someone who could afford Business Class. Normally, I wouldn’t spend that much, but this was a reward from my company for a month of overtime. Who knew I’d run into overbooking? “Of course, Ms. Lee. When the plane arrives, we will arrange priority boarding for you.” I sat in the seat closest to the gate, anxiety growing as the time approached. The noisy airport gradually quieted down, like the calm before a storm. A kind grandmother from a tour group came over to comfort me: “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll all get on a plane eventually.” “Flight to Denver is now boarding. Passengers, please line up in an orderly manner…” Finally, boarding began. The complaining man from earlier cut in front of me. As he handed over his ticket, he was stopped. “What did you say? I can’t board?!” 2 The flight attendant, wearing her signature smile, apologetically informed him: “Mr. Lewis, I’m sorry. Due to the sudden public emergency, we have to prioritize evacuating passengers from the original flight. We’ll check for available seats after everyone else has boarded.” Mr. Lewis exploded: “You just said it could take off, now you’re saying I can’t go! Are you playing me? I’m filing a complaint!” Fearing he would disturb other passengers, the flight attendant pulled him aside. I was in the same boat, but calmer than him. I tried to negotiate with the flight attendant: “There are fewer Business Class seats. I can downgrade to Economy, as long as there’s a seat for me.” The flight attendant looked helpless. “I can’t decide that. I need to ask my supervisor.” The young couple from earlier was also stopped. “Sorry, Ms. Taylor and Mr. Wang, your flight is a connecting one. Since the previous flight was canceled, this one can’t take off. You’ll need to rebook.” Mr. Wang freaked out: “What? I have another flight after this!” Ms. Taylor lost her coquettish demeanor. “I told you not to be cheap and buy a connecting flight! Now look! What if we can’t refund or catch the next one?” I squeezed to the front of the line, but the flight attendant gave me the same answer: “No seats, please wait.” Suddenly, I lost the mood to watch the drama. With a few people overbooked on every flight, more and more passengers were stranded. Complaints echoed throughout the terminal. Before I knew it, I looked around. There were at least a few dozen people stuck here. And my overbooking compensation had accumulated from $300 to $900. From morning to night, three full flights had no room for me, and I was getting increasingly irritable. The news said the toxic gas outside the airport hadn’t dissipated, and the situation was unclear. Many people said they wouldn’t wait anymore and demanded refunds. The flight attendant readily agreed. She handed out liability waivers one by one. “After refunding, we will not be responsible for any consequences of your staying at or leaving the airport.” The crowd instantly went silent. Everyone was stunned. Mr. Lewis reacted first. “What do you mean? There’s poison gas outside, and you’re just going to abandon us?” “Sorry, I’m not clear on the follow-up procedures either.” The flight attendant’s robotic smile could no longer soothe the crowd’s accumulated anger. The crowd erupted, quickly splitting into two factions. One side believed the gas must have dissipated after so long and wanted to refund and leave, unwilling to waste more time at the airport. The other side believed the airport was the safest place and wanted to wait for a plane. I was squeezed to the back of the crowd and glimpsed other flight attendants hurriedly leading a man in sunglasses through, bypassing ticket checks and entering the jet bridge directly. Something was wrong! Very wrong! Boarding hadn’t been announced, so how could he get on? I rushed to the front and pointed at him: “Why can he board?” The flight attendant looked troubled. Avoiding the question, she invited me to wait in the Business Class lounge. A businessman next to me, who had been silently working on his laptop, spoke up slowly, his words hitting like thunder. “You aren’t just arranging for the rich and powerful to leave and planning to leave ordinary passengers here to die, are you?” 3 The smile on the flight attendant’s face froze. She was clearly unable to handle this attack. She explained politely: “Of course not. That gentleman is a special passenger who meets the criteria for priority boarding…” The businessman pushed up his glasses and pressed on. “What criteria does he meet? Is there any legal basis for this?” “He…” I quickly stood with the businessman. “Yeah, we were bumped from earlier flights and haven’t left. Why does he get priority? You have to give us an explanation, or let us board now.” The businessman reminded her: “I wasn’t bumped; I rebooked.” Realizing we weren’t easily fooled, the flight attendant could only take us to the Business Class lounge, saying someone would come to handle it later. But after waiting for a long time, no one came. The businessman had already started contacting other airlines. As an ordinary office worker, I was still worried about not being able to get back to work tomorrow to cancel my leave. Suddenly someone outside shouted: “It’s over! It’s all over!” I learned that some of those who refunded tickets and left fainted from the gas within ten meters of the airport exit. Foaming at the mouth, bleeding from orifices. Leaving meant death. The remaining people who had refunded but hadn’t left yet dared not leave easily. They demanded to rebook tickets. But when they opened the booking apps, they found pitifully few flights. A single ticket had skyrocketed to $7,000! The silent waiting hall became noisy again. I stood in front of the glass and saw a large cloud of smoke drifting towards the tarmac. 4 “The gas is drifting over!” Everyone panicked, terrified of being left behind. Ground staff came out to maintain order, telling everyone to calm down. An announcement came over the airport broadcast: “We have received notice that due to the accelerated leakage of toxic gas, please evacuate orderly to the departure hall and wait for boarding arrangements.” Staff in hazmat suits guarded both sides of the boarding gates. Everyone swarmed towards the hall. I followed the crowded flow out, but something felt wrong. A question lingered in my mind, refusing to dissipate. If the situation is so urgent, why not arrange for us to board planes and leave directly? All passengers evacuated outside the security checkpoint. I have good eyesight and noticed many uniformed crew members entering from the other side, which was originally closed. Were they going to sneak away without us? Someone else discovered this too. Shouting from the line: “Why are they going that way? You’re not going to leave us behind, are you?” They rushed into the security checkpoint, trying to break in. “You can’t leave us!” Turns out, I guessed right. When we ran in, we saw a shocking scene. Most of the staff, wearing masks, were boarding planes one after another. The planes were actually taking off without us, without any notice. The sensitive passengers, already physically and mentally exhausted, exploded emotionally. The scene spiraled out of control. They grabbed flight attendants and ground staff, preventing them from leaving. Most boarding gates were already closed. The flight attendants were being pulled and tugged, constantly explaining. But no one wanted to listen. The tarmac was shrouded in toxic fog, the way ahead unclear. I was still hoping for a miracle. I hurriedly dialed emergency numbers, but the lines were always busy. Posting for help online, I realized the lines had long been blown up. Finally, the person next to me got through. “We are trapped at the airport now… What? The gas is spreading too fast, no manpower available? Too many places need rescue? You want me to wait for rescue here?” The person next to me hung up the phone in exasperation. I looked around, estimating there were about a few hundred passengers left. Are we all going to die here? The broadcast suddenly sounded. Everyone went quiet in unison. “Passengers who haven’t refunded their tickets, please do not panic. Wait where you are. We will arrange for your orderly boarding shortly.” Some rejoiced, some worried. That meant those who refunded had to stay. “We are at the airport, you have to escort us safely away!” Those who refunded earlier argued with the flight attendants. Those who didn’t refund had calmed down and become silent. In times like this, everyone only looks out for themselves. Who has the energy to care about others? I watched those making a scene being taken away by security, separated outside the security check. I didn’t know what awaited them. At this moment, Grandma sent me a voice message: “Lisa, are you on the plane now? What time do you land?” Hearing Grandma’s voice, my nose tingled instantly, eyes getting wet. I forced myself to be calm and told her not to worry. I’ll be home soon. The businessman sitting opposite me finished his call and came back. Just as I looked up slightly. Our eyes met, a bit awkward. He silently looked away. Next to him, a little boy pointed at me and asked: “Mommy, why is the sister crying?” His mother immediately covered his mouth, smiling apologetically at me. “Children don’t know better, sorry for the trouble.” I noticed the child’s hand was covered in needle marks. At first, I thought it strange that a seven or eight-year-old was being coddled so much, his mother holding him tight the whole time. Talking to them, I learned they were traveling for medical treatment. The boy, Henry, had a serious genetic disease. This was her last hope. I watched the little boy show me the needle marks on his hand, grinning at me with pale lips. I couldn’t help but feel heartache. I searched my pockets and found a few candies, placing them in his palm, telling him: “Don’t worry, you’ll get better.” Henry unwrapped one and fed it to his mom, then one to me. He turned sideways to offer one to the businessman. The businessman scrolled through his phone without changing expression, not taking it. I marveled at his coldness and quickly sat back. The broadcast played again: “Boarding is now beginning. Passengers, please take your luggage.” But looking out, there was only one plane left. Could all these people fit? I walked to the front and asked the flight attendant: “Are we all getting on that plane outside? It won’t fit everyone. If we don’t get on this one, will there be more planes coming?” The flight attendant shook her head slightly, still smiling. “No, this is the last plane.” What! Before I could ask more, the broadcast announced: “Due to limited seating, some passengers’ tickets will be refunded. Please board with a valid purchase screen.” Mr. Lewis behind me suddenly screamed: “Ah! My ticket was refunded!” People in line immediately checked their phones. Many had been refunded. “How could this be…” Henry’s mom looked at me in disbelief, then fainted directly. She and Henry were both refunded!

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During a business dinner, Brandi snatched my fiancé’s phone, charged ten thousand dollars to his card for a new handbag, then stuck her tongue out at me. “Cade is so rich, she won’t mind a little splurge, right? Alex and I don’t have secrets. His money is my money.” Everyone at the table waited for me to either explode or graciously let it slide. Instead, I pulled a voice recorder and a laptop from my briefcase and adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses. “The amount in question is ten thousand dollars, which meets the threshold for criminal investigation. Since there are no secrets between you, would this be classified as corporate embezzlement, or an illicit transfer of assets within the context of a sugar-daddy relationship?” “Oh, and that last part, about ‘his money is my money’? I have it on tape. According to his company’s bylaws and our prenuptial agreement, I am now officially initiating an asset freeze on Alex Vance.” “Enjoy your new bag, Miss Brandi. The food in prison is free.” Alex’s face went pale. “Cade, it was just a joke. Are you really going to ruin me over this?” I hit the Enter key. “I’m sorry. In my ledger, there are no jokes. Only bad debts.” 1 My phone vibrated. A text from my bank flashed on the screen: Charge of $10,000.00 processed. I set down my fork and looked at Alex. He wasn’t looking at me. He was busy peeling a shrimp for Brandi, the girl sitting beside him. Brandi was holding Alex’s phone. The screen was still lit up, displaying the payment confirmation page from a luxury brand’s website. She twirled the phone in her fingers and flashed it at me. “Cade, I’ve had my eye on this bag forever. Alex said you’re always so frugal you don’t know the first thing about fashion. He thought I should help him spend a little, you know, to keep up appearances.” There were seven or eight people at the table, all of them Alex’s “buddies” and business partners. They paused, their eyes darting between me, Alex, and Brandi. Someone let out a short, muffled laugh. Alex placed the peeled shrimp in Brandi’s bowl before finally glancing at me. “Cade, Brandi’s just a kid. Don’t take it so seriously. It’s just a bag. We can afford it.” I said nothing. I unzipped my briefcase. I took out a digital voice recorder and pressed the record button. A small red light blinked on. I took out my ultra-slim laptop, opened the lid, and typed in my password. My movements were fluid, practiced. The smile on Brandi’s face faltered. She leaned closer to Alex, practically draping herself over his arm. “Alex, look at your fiancée. Who brings a laptop to dinner? Is she going to start running numbers? What a buzzkill.” Alex frowned and slammed his chopsticks on the table. “Cade, are you on the clock? This is a private dinner. Put that junk away.” I ignored him. My fingers flew across the keyboard. I opened a new spreadsheet and named the file: Alex Vance – Large-Scale Irregular Expenditure Memo. I pushed my gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose and looked at Brandi. “A moment ago, you said that you and Alex have no secrets, that his money is your money. Is that correct?” Brandi tilted her chin up. “That’s right! Alex and I grew up together. We have a bond. Someone like you, who only knows how to read financial statements, would never understand.” I nodded. “Excellent.” I turned to Alex. “And you agree with that statement?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Brandi is like a little sister to me. What’s the big deal if she spends a little of my money? You’re my fiancée, can’t you be a little more generous? Don’t be so petty. It’s a bad look.” I hit the Enter key. The cursor blinked on the screen. I began to speak, my voice steady and clear, loud enough for the recorder to pick up every word. “According to federal law, any employee of a corporation or enterprise who uses their position to illicitly appropriate company assets for personal use, where the amount is substantial, shall be subject to a prison term of up to five years.” “Alex’s credit card is linked to the corporate account.” “Brandi is not an employee of the company, yet she used ten thousand dollars of corporate funds for a personal expense.” I looked at Alex. “You are the CEO. I am the Chief Risk Officer. You authorized a non-employee to misappropriate company funds for personal luxury consumption.” I paused. “If this isn’t classified as embezzlement, then it must be an illicit transfer of assets within the context of an extramarital affair.” “Alex, your company is in the critical phase of its pre-IPO audit. A ten-thousand-dollar expense without a valid business receipt will cause the auditors to immediately fail your financial compliance review.” The table fell into a dead silence. The man who had laughed earlier froze with his wine glass halfway to his lips. Alex’s face turned a blotchy, furious red. He shot to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. “Cade! Are you insane? This is between me and Brandi! Who are you to make it a federal case? Embezzlement? Prison? Are you that desperate for attention that you can’t stand to see me be nice to anyone else?” Brandi’s eyes instantly welled up. Tears streamed down her face. “Cade, why are you humiliating me like this? I just bought a bag… If you’re upset that Alex is nice to me, take it out on me. Don’t ruin him.” Sobbing, she buried her face in Alex’s chest. He patted her back protectively and pointed a finger at me. “Cade, you apologize to Brandi right now! Or this wedding is off!” I saved the document. Closed the laptop. Turned off the recorder and placed it back in my briefcase. I stood up. “Whether we get married is not your decision. But whether the company’s books are balanced, that is mine.” “If that ten thousand dollars is not returned to the corporate account within three days, I will file a report directly with the financial crimes division.” “Furthermore,” I said, looking at Brandi, “your admission that you and Alex ‘have no secrets’ has been recorded.” “According to the company’s articles of incorporation and the supplementary clauses of our prenuptial agreement, I have the right to initiate an asset freeze in the event of any high-risk relationship that could lead to a loss of company assets.” I took out my phone and, in front of all of them, dialed our bank’s corporate accounts manager. “This is Cade Sterling. There is a significant risk event associated with the corporate account ending in 7788 under Alex Vance’s name. As Chief Risk Officer, I am ordering an immediate freeze on all non-payroll expenditures from this account.” A professional voice replied, “Understood, Ms. Sterling. It’s done.” Alex’s phone vibrated again. This time, it was a notification of the account freeze. He stared at his phone, then at me, in disbelief. “Cade, are you serious?” I smoothed the lapels of my blazer. “In my world, there are no jokes.” With that, I turned and walked out of the private room. Behind me, I heard the sound of shattering porcelain and Alex’s enraged roar. “Cade! You just wait!” 2 Monday morning. Alex Vance’s company, Finance Department. I was sitting in my office, the Chief Risk Officer’s office, with a stack of expense reports in front of me. The door was pushed open. Brandi sauntered in, wearing a miniskirt that barely covered her thighs and carrying a cup of bubble tea. The finance manager followed her, looking mortified. “Ms. Sterling… I’m so sorry, Miss Brandi insisted on coming in.” I didn’t look up. I was using a six-figure Montblanc pen to circle items on the reports. “Get out.” The manager fled as if granted amnesty. Brandi plopped herself down on my desk, setting her bubble tea directly on my documents. Condensation seeped into the paper, smudging the ink. I stopped writing and finally looked up at her. She swung her legs, the toe of her shoe nearly kicking me in the face. “You’re so petty, Cade. Freezing Alex’s accounts? He had to borrow money from a friend just to get gas this morning. How embarrassing for him.” She reached for the expense reports on my desk. “And these… the finance department said they won’t process them without your signature. It’s just a few outfits. Alex said it’s part of building the company’s image.” I held the reports down, then pulled one out and held it up for her to see. “Victoria’s Secret. Lace lingerie. Three sets, total four hundred fifty dollars. Category: Office Supplies.” I looked her in the eye. “Miss Brandi, could you please clarify which office function requires this particular type of ‘supply’? Should I make a special note in the audit report that Alex Vance’s office offers… specialized services?” Brandi didn’t even blush. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a dark red mark on her neck. A hickey. Displayed for my benefit. “Oh, come on, Cade. Don’t be such a prude. Alex is under a lot of stress. I help him relax in the office. Doesn’t that require a special ‘uniform’? I’m contributing to the company.” She reached for the pen in my hand. “This is a nice pen. Let me see it.” I didn’t let go. She yanked it hard. Her nail scraped across the back of my hand, drawing a thin line of blood. The pen was in her grasp. She uncapped it and, right on my mahogany desk, drew a crude caricature of me. Then she scrawled two words across it: THE WITCH. “Hehe, what do you think, Cade? Doesn’t it look just like you? So stiff and boring.” She spun the pen in her hand, then tapped it against the corner of the desk twice. The nib bent. A limited-edition pen worth over a hundred thousand dollars, ruined. I looked at the pen, then at the drawing on my desk. I took out my phone and took a picture of the desk. Then I took a picture of the scratch on my hand. Brandi pouted. “Pictures, pictures, that’s all you know how to do. Go ahead, tattle. Alex won’t care.” The door opened again. Alex walked in. He glanced at the mess on the desk and the pen in Brandi’s hand. He didn’t ask why my hand was bleeding. Instead, he frowned at me. “Cade, why are you giving Brandi a hard time again? She was just coming to get my signature and you held her hostage in your office?” Brandi immediately jumped off the desk and into Alex’s arms. “Alex! Cade was so mean to me! She said the lingerie I bought was… for indecent things. But you’re the one who said you liked it…” Alex patted her head and glared at me. “Cade, I’ve seen those expense reports. I approved them. You can’t be so rigid. It’s a few thousand dollars. Do you want people to think I’m so broke I can’t even cover that?” I pointed to the stack of reports. “It’s not just lingerie.” “There’s also a two-thousand-dollar spa membership, a five-thousand-dollar hotel suite bill, and even three hundred dollars for designer dog food.” “All of them are labeled ‘Office Supplies’ or ‘Business Entertainment’.” “Alex, this is called falsifying invoices. It’s a form of tax evasion.” Alex strode over and snatched the reports from my desk. Rrrrrip. He tore them to shreds. Paper rained down over me. “There. Now they’re gone,” he sneered. “You wanted evidence? It’s gone. Cade, stop trying to run my life with your stupid auditor rules. This company has my name on it, not yours. If you don’t like it, you can get the hell out.” Brandi clapped. “You’re so cool, Alex! It’s about time someone put this old hag in her place.” She carelessly tossed the broken pen into the trash. “Useless pen. A cheap ballpoint works better.” I stared at the pen in the wastebasket. It was the last gift my grandmother gave me before she passed away. I bent down. I retrieved the pen from the trash. Using a tissue, I carefully wiped away the smudges. I placed it in the inner pocket of my blazer. Then, I opened my desk drawer. I took out a new document. Notification of Revocation of Chief Financial Officer Authority. I didn’t show it to Alex. I simply placed it in my briefcase. I looked at him. “You tore up the receipts, but the digital records still exist. The bank transactions are still there.” “Alex, you didn’t just tear up paper.” “You tore up your last way out.” Alex scoffed and wrapped his arm around Brandi. “You’re insane. Come on, Brandi, I’ll buy you something new. We’ll really give her something to be mad about.” At the door, Brandi turned back, made a face at me, and flipped me the middle finger. “Old witch.”

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My wife’s lover said my son’s dislike of Western food was a sign of disrespect towards him. That night, my wife tore out our son’s tongue and served it to her lover for dinner. In a blind rage, I severed the tendons in Ross Vance’s arms and legs, making him feel a fraction of my pain. Everyone thought Cassandra would kill me for it. Instead, she had me locked in a psychiatric hospital for two years, then used our son’s ashes to force me to sign the divorce papers. “The Serrano family has no use for a disobedient dog,” she’d said, her voice like ice. “Either die here, or get out.” I disappeared after that. Three years later, I inherited my father’s empire, a sprawling network that straddled the line between the legal and the illicit. I returned to the city by invitation, and there, I saw Ross again. He swaggered up to me and slapped me across the face. “Well, well, if it isn’t my dear brother-in-law. I thought you’d be dead by now.” I just smiled, grabbed his arm, and twisted until the bone snapped. “It seems you’ve forgotten the pain of the past,” I said calmly. “Don’t worry. I’m happy to remind you.” … Ross’s scream was like a chicken being strangled. The crowd of sycophants surrounding him erupted, their voices a cacophony of outrage. “What are you doing?!” “Do you have any idea who you just touched? He’s Cassandra Serrano’s man!” One of them tried to intervene, but I sent him flying with a single kick. Ross’s face was pale, slick with a mixture of sweat and tears, but he still managed to point a trembling finger at me. “Adrian! You’re insane! You wouldn’t dare…” “Wouldn’t I?” I cut him off, releasing my grip and letting him stumble back, cradling his mangled arm. “It’s been three years. Is this all Cassandra has taught you? How to spew garbage?” A hush fell over the room. The name Cassandra Serrano was a switch, flipping off the noise. Ross, as if I’d struck a nerve, shrieked, his voice cracking with tears. “Cassandra will make you pay for this! You’ll see! You’ll see!” I leisurely pulled a disinfecting wipe from my pocket and meticulously cleaned my fingers, as if I’d touched something filthy. “Then let her come. I have a few questions for her myself. Namely, how she managed to turn a vicious, barking mutt into this pathetic creature who can’t even bite anymore.” Gasps rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew Ross Vance was the apple of Cassandra Serrano’s eye. Even when he was just her secret lover, he was untouchable. Now, in the span of three years, under her protection, he had become one of the most feared men in the city. And I had not only broken his arm but had also insulted them both in the same breath. Ross was shaking with rage, tears and sweat streaming down his face. He looked pathetic. “Adrian, you’re nothing but a cast-off, a failed husband! A psycho! How dare you lay a hand on me!” I took a step towards him. He flinched, scrambling backward in terror. “Ross, do I need to remind you what it feels like to have your guts ripped out by wild dogs?” The color drained from his face. He looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost and shrieked, “Stop him! Somebody, stop this madman!” People shifted, but no one moved to help. Just then, the crowd parted. A familiar, cold figure, flanked by bodyguards, strode towards us. Cassandra. Ross looked like he’d seen his savior. He stumbled towards her, his tears flowing freely. “Cassandra! He broke my arm! It hurts so much.” Her gaze landed on me, her brow tightening. She looked down at the whimpering Ross. She reached out, not to comfort him, but to take hold of his dislocated arm. He sucked in a breath. With a sickening crack, she snapped it back into place. Ross screamed and collapsed into her arms. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. But her eyes, when they met mine, were murderous. “Adrian.” She said my name, the single word carrying an immense weight. “It’s been three years. Is this your idea of a welcome-home gift?” I looked at her, and the memories flooded back: the sunless days in the asylum, the way she had held our son Xander’s ashes over a trash can, forcing me to sign away my life. I stretched my lips into a smile that held no warmth. “Just an appetizer. If you’d like, I can serve the main course right now.” Ross whimpered beside her. “Cassandra, it hurts… He’s crazy. Kill him!” She patted his back twice, a hollow gesture of comfort, before turning her attention back to me. “It seems your time away hasn’t taught you to be humble, Adrian. It’s only made you more reckless.” I tossed the used wipe into a nearby trash can and met her gaze. “You’re one to talk about reckless. I think the animal who lets her lover murder her own son is the very definition of it.” “You!” A vein throbbed in her temple. Her arm tightened around Ross, making him cry out in pain again. “Adrian, take that back and apologize to Ross. Now.” Her voice was low, a command that expected to be obeyed. “Then, break your own hand, and I might consider letting you crawl out of here with your pathetic life.” I laughed, a real, genuine laugh. “Cassandra, are you still living in a fantasy where you rule the world?” I took a step closer, ignoring the bodyguards who tensed around her. “You want an apology?” I pointed at Ross. “Then have him give Xander his tongue back.” Ross shrank behind her. Cassandra’s face was a thundercloud. “What happened to Xander was his own fault! He shouldn’t have upset Ross!” Her casual dismissal of our son’s death ignited the fire in my eyes. “Because of one baseless accusation, you tore out your own son’s tongue? Cassandra, even a tiger won’t eat its own cub. You’re worse than an animal.” That night, when they brought Xander home, his mouth was a bloody ruin. His small body was curled on the floor like a broken doll. He had choked on his own blood, his wide, terrified eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And Cassandra had just stood there, looking down at my collapsed form, and said, “He won’t be upsetting Ross anymore.” In that moment, I knew. This would not end until one of us was dead. “Shut up!” she screamed, as if I’d stepped on an open wound. “Adrian, it seems you’ve chosen the hard way.” She raised her hand, signaling her guards. “Hold him down. If he won’t do it himself, you do it for him.” The guards closed in. A triumphant smirk flickered across Ross’s face. I stood my ground, my eyes locked on Cassandra. “Do you really think I’m the same man I was three years ago? The same man who was powerless to protect his own son?” Cassandra lunged, her hands closing around my throat. Her eyes were blood-red, filled with a raw, undisguised killing intent. “Did you really think I wouldn’t dare to touch you?” My vision started to blur, but I managed a smile, forcing the words through my constricted airway. “Do it, Cassandra. Strangle me… just like you watched Xander die…” The mention of our son made her flinch. Her grip loosened for a fraction of a second. It was all I needed. I brought my knee up, hard, into her stomach. She gasped and released me. I staggered back, gasping for air, my throat on fire. Her bodyguards were on me in an instant, twisting my arms behind my back and forcing me to the cold marble floor. Ross peeked out from behind Cassandra, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Cassandra, are you okay? You two, make him kneel!” Cassandra straightened her clothes, her face a mask of cold fury as she looked down at me. “You heard him. Ross doesn’t like it when you speak from a standing position. Kneel. Apologize. And then, you will destroy the hand that touched him. Or,” she paused, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, “I will mix Xander’s ashes into pig feed.” Xander. My body trembled, pinned to the floor. All I could do was stare up at her, my eyes burning with hatred. The little boy who used to call me “daddy” in his sweet, high-pitched voice was now just a handful of dust. And she was using him to humiliate me. “Cassandra, you don’t deserve to be his mother. You don’t even deserve to be human,” I rasped, my voice thick with blood. She just laughed. “Human or monster, wasn’t it you who chose me?” Yes. It was me who had fallen for the poor student she once was. It was me who had defied my father, given up my inheritance, and married her. It was me who had used all my family’s resources to build her empire. And in return, my son was murdered, and I was thrown away like trash. “It seems you’ve made your choice,” she said, her patience gone. She nodded to the guards. One of them grabbed my right hand. I met her dark, unreadable gaze without flinching. “Do you dare, Cassandra?” I snarled. She seemed to savor my struggle. “Dare? You’re just a stray dog who couldn’t make it on his own and came crawling back. Why wouldn’t I dare? The Serrano family has no need for another dog, especially not a rabid one that bites its owner.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “But you were always my dog, Cassandra. Without me…” She cut me off with another nod to her guards. My right hand was twisted inward. A sharp crack echoed in the silent room. I bit down on a scream, the pain a white-hot explosion in my head. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Ross let out a small yelp and shrank further behind Cassandra. Her eyes were dark as she motioned for the guards to release me. “Your father is dead, Adrian. You are nothing now. You should learn to be obedient, or I can make the pain much, much worse.” Sweat beaded on my forehead. My face was pale, but my smile was twisted and defiant. “You overestimate yourself, Cassandra. Compared to what you did to Xander… this is nothing.” I stumbled forward, almost colliding with her, and looked up into her suddenly pale face. “Do you remember the night he died? He looked at you, his eyes full of blood and tears. He died not understanding why the mother he loved would do that to him for a stranger.” Her breath hitched. Her fists clenched, the knuckles white. Ross tried to support her, glaring at me. “He was just a bastard. He deserved it.” “Shut up!” Cassandra roared, cutting him off. That night, the villa was brightly lit. Xander had been brought home by her men. Ross had complained to her that our son had disrespected him by refusing to eat the food he had prepared. Cassandra hadn’t even questioned the flimsy excuse. She had her men hold Xander down. And then, to appease her lover, she had torn out our son’s tongue with her own hands. When it was done, she had wiped her hands and looked down at me, saying, “He won’t be upsetting Ross anymore.” In that moment, my world had shattered. Now, she looked as if she’d been pushed to the edge. She shoved me away. I fell, my broken hand taking the brunt of the impact. The pain was so intense I almost blacked out. Ross’s face was a mask of smug satisfaction, but he pretended to be concerned, holding Cassandra back. “Cassandra, don’t lower yourself to his level. He almost killed you once. Let’s just go.” Her chest was heaving. She stared at me, then took a deep breath, forcing herself back into her icy composure. “Adrian, for the sake of the man I once married, I’ll spare your life today. This,” she gestured to my hand, “is your lesson. Remember, here, I am the one in charge. You will get out of this city and never come back.” She turned to leave, her arm around Ross. I watched them go, watched as Ross glanced back, a triumphant smirk on his face. I pushed myself up, leaning against a decorative pillar. “Cassandra.” My voice was quiet, but it stopped her. She didn’t turn around. “Still looking to die?”

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I have lived for a thousand years and single-handedly founded the glory of the Ford family. Today, I am the revered ancestor of the Fords, and the entire family answers to me. Just because I identified a fake at an auction, the auctioneer thought I was targeting him personally. He stormed into my antique shop, causing trouble and beating me severely without a word. “Trash! You dare say my antique is fake? I think you’re just trying to seduce Miss Ford!” “I’m the prospective son-in-law chosen by the Ford family. I’m marrying the little princess of the elite circle, Claire Ford, next month!” It turns out he is the fiancé of my thirty-second generation granddaughter, Claire Ford. At the auction, he pulled Claire and acted spoiled, “Claire, at this auction, I have a surprise for you.” “Can you light the sky lantern for the final item? Look, I’ve even brought the item here for you.” When Claire saw me dying in a sack, she fell to her knees in terror on the spot. “An… Ancestor, why is it you?” Chapter 1 When Julian Zhao stormed into my antique shop like a hooligan, I was the only one there. Seeing me calmly sipping tea, Julian was even more breathless with rage. He grabbed a Tang Dynasty vase being restored on the table and was about to smash it at me. “Claire Ford’s property, fifty million. Go ahead, smash it.” This Mr. Zhao knew nothing, just glared at me. “Bah! Gold digger, don’t try to suppress me with Miss Ford!” “I’m her fiancé. Fifty million is nothing. All her money will be mine in the future!” “What kind of thing are you, you shameless pretty boy!” What kind of thing am I? I am her ancestor! A thousand years ago, I accidentally consumed the elixir of immortality and single-handedly founded the glory of the Ford family. Since then, the first rule of the Ford family has been— “Never disobey the Ancestor.” When Claire Ford was a child, she didn’t recognize me, pointing at my nose and asking who I was. She was punished with thirty lashes and knelt in the ancestral hall for a whole night. Since then, she has only had fear and respect for me. If I tell her to go east, she dares not go west. Julian Zhao didn’t know this. With a crash, the vase in his hand shattered at my feet. Shards flew, cutting my face. I touched the wound on my face, suppressing my anger. But Julian became even more arrogant, walking closer with hands on his hips, pressing on my wound relentlessly. “Scratch your face, let’s see what you use to seduce my wife!” “You cheap antique dealer, how dare you get in my wife’s car and make her open the door for you!” “Relying on your face to climb up, huh? Let’s see how you rely on your face now!” I pushed him down with a wave of my hand. “Me getting in her car is giving her face!” This child, Claire Ford, suddenly became obsessed with “lighting the sky lantern” (bidding regardless of price). Unfortunately, several times she brought back fakes after lighting the sky lantern. Her father begged me to accompany her to appraise items for her. Who knew there were few genuine items in this auction house. I couldn’t help scolding her a few times, telling her not to embarrass the Ford family. Claire Ford shivered and opened the door for me. Only then did she tell the truth. Her ulterior motive was not the antiques, but to please this man. But looking at it now, he wants to enter the Ford family’s door? Impossible! Pushed down by me, Julian Zhao’s palm bled, pierced by shards. “Bastard!” He screamed in exasperation. “Brothers, smash everything here!” Immediately, a crowd swarmed in from outside the shop. Holding sticks, they smashed my shop indiscriminately. Shang Dynasty bronzeware, Tang Tricolor pottery, Song porcelain… These treasures, worth about a billion, were all smashed to pieces. I trembled all over, wanting to stop them but couldn’t. “Julian Zhao!” I shouted loudly. “Many items here were sent for restoration by major families in the elite circle. Can you afford to pay?!” Hearing me say this, the people Julian brought gasped. But Julian sneered, crossing his arms, fearless. “Who are you trying to fool? Not a single thing in your shop is real!” “You got this shop by seducing Miss Ford, right?” His eyes were splitting with anger, grabbing my hair and dragging me to the ground. “Hers is mine. Even if I smash this place clean, she will only smile and say well smashed!” As he spoke, Julian’s fist landed solidly on my face. It burned with pain. I didn’t want to lose my temper with a junior, but I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Have you had enough! Didn’t Claire Ford tell you this is not a place where you can mess around?!” I took out my phone and dialed Claire Ford’s number. With a beep, the call connected. “Hello, Ancestor…” Chapter 2 Before I could speak. Julian Zhao ruthlessly knocked away my phone, his chest heaving heavily. “Bastard! You dare make my wife call you Ancestor!” “You like flirting so much, huh? Hold him down!” “I’ll make you a real ancestor today!” He picked up a shard, poised to carve real “wrinkles” on my face. I used all my strength to resist his actions. Julian sneered: “Pretty boy, scared now? Why weren’t you scared when you seduced my wife?” During the struggle, I kicked Julian in the lower abdomen. Julian wailed in pain, anger surging. He was spoiled since childhood and had never suffered such grievance. Screaming for people to pin me down firmly, he kicked me viciously. I gasped in pain: “Julian Zhao, I am the Ancestor of the Ford family. The entire Ford family listens to me. If Claire knows you hit me, don’t think about entering the Ford family’s door!” Julian’s eyes widened, picking up a shard and slashing my face without hesitation. “You still dare to use Claire Ford to threaten me?!” “Is Claire’s name something you can call? Ancestor? If you’re the ancestor, I’m your father!” Severe pain came from my cheek. Instantly, blood ran across my eyes, tears mixed with blood flowing down. Seeing blood, Julian laughed bent over, his gaze fierce. “Bitch, with a ruined face, let’s see what you use to seduce people!” Enduring the severe pain on my face, I roared: “Look carefully at the Ford family ancestral jade pendant hanging on the wall! If I weren’t the Ford family Ancestor, could I have this jade pendant?!” He followed my gaze and took down the jade pendant. Since I customized this jade pendant a thousand years ago, seeing it is like seeing the Ford family. No one in the elite circle doesn’t know. Who would have thought when Julian looked up, his eyes were splitting, that look almost devouring me whole. “Great! Claire even gave you the jade pendant?! Who allowed it! I am her fiancé!” He rushed up and straddled me, fists falling one after another. “Did you steal this jade pendant!” He was mad with anger, tearing at my mouth yelling thief! Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a blood-stained ceramic shard, immediately picked it up, and slashed my face continuously. Pain struck. I faced Julian’s scarlet eyes, blood flowing into my eyes, turning into bloody tears. “Pretty boy, forget about this face! You even dared to steal the Ford family’s jade pendant!” “Don’t you rely on this face? And dared to say I was blind, almost making me fail to graduate.” “Let’s see what you have to fight me with without this face!” I wondered why he looked so familiar! Turns out he was a student accepted by my disciple. His family donated a few buildings to the school in exchange for admission, learning appraisal from my disciple. But he knew nothing. When graduating, my disciple asked me to take a look. Just one glance, and I shook my head saying: “He’s blind, not suitable for appraisal.” That day the Zhao family sent treasures worth ten million, asking me to turn a blind eye. I didn’t accept. Who knew my disciple couldn’t resist the temptation and passed him. Teaching such a disaster! Bah! I spat a mouthful of blood on his face. “You are not worthy of being my grand-student!” Unprepared, Julian’s face was covered by the blood I spat. He wiped it, his scream piercing through the entire shop. “Killing you just like this doesn’t relieve my anger!” “Don’t you like seducing people? Don’t you like seducing people?” He randomly pointed at a few men to stay. “He’s yours. Don’t come out until you’ve crippled him!” After saying that, he stuffed the tissue wiped with blood into my mouth and kicked me twice angrily: “Have fun, pretty boy.” Those men rubbed their hands, looking me up and down with malicious eyes. In pain and anger, I desperately thought about how to escape. Originally, the antique shop arranged bodyguards for me. The head of the Ford family said they must protect me no matter what. But when restoring artifacts, I wasn’t used to having people around, so I sent them away. “Nice body. If the face wasn’t scratched, it would definitely be better!” “Don’t be polite. Our task is to make him feel ‘heavenly’!” “Don’t worry! We brothers will serve you well!” Men’s filthy language drilled into my ears. Just when I was at my wit’s end, a familiar woman’s voice suddenly came from outside. “What are you doing?! Don’t you want to live? This is the Ford family’s VIP!” It was Miss Chen, one of the five major families in the elite circle! I had an appointment with her to pick up a restored antique! Julian was scared by Miss Chen’s words, trembling all over. Chapter 3 Miss Chen raised her leg and kicked out the men who were unbuckling their belts. I collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath. “Mr. Gu, are you okay? If Miss Ford knows you were beaten like this…” Before Miss Chen could finish, she saw the mess on the floor and her eyes widened. “My vase! Who did this!” Julian pretended to be calm: “I did it, so what?” Miss Chen was about to curse, but swallowed it back when she saw Julian’s face clearly. Everyone knew Claire Ford had her eyes on the eldest son of the Zhao family. He might be the Ford family’s son-in-law in the future. And the man lying on the ground was just a VIP of the Ford family. Which was more important… Miss Chen was silent for a moment, immediately concluding: “Of course nothing will happen. If Young Master Zhao likes it, I’ll send a few more vases for you to smash!” Julian breathed a sigh of relief, snorted coldly, and rolled his eyes. “Glad you know your place. I’m here teaching a lesson to the pretty boy who seduced Miss Ford. Don’t get in the way here!” “Or are you going to plead for him?” Miss Chen stepped away from me: “Mr. Gu is just a VIP, but you are the future son-in-law of the Ford family.” My heart sank to the bottom. I changed identities every so often, publicly claiming to be a VIP of the Ford family. But the fact that I am the Ancestor of the Ford family is true. Julian let out a “Ha”, spitting out the fright from just now. “Trash, almost got bluffed by you!” “Still a VIP! Just relying on your face to seduce women, using my wife’s money to open a shop!” I climbed up supporting myself against the wall, shaking my head weakly: “Julian Zhao, the Ford family’s money is all mine. You must consider the consequences of doing all this!” Hearing me say this, Julian became exasperated. He waved his hand again. “Still stubborn! Tear off his clothes!” Those men swarmed up like crazy, excitedly tearing my clothes to pieces. Not forgetting to take the opportunity to grope me constantly. Seeing Julian didn’t stop them, their actions became increasingly unrestrained. My vision went black, struggling constantly. Julian slapped me, then kicked me several times in succession. “A pretty boy being so arrogant, still wanting the Ford family’s money?” “I am the future master, you are nothing!” He looked fiercely at me, stripped naked. “Damn, nice body build, no wonder you can seduce women!” “Bring the knife!” Julian moved extremely fast, carving two crosses on my chest with the knife! I arched my whole body in pain, screams enduring. Seeing my pain, Julian laughed loudly. “After crippling him, I can consider sending you to serve Miss Ford.” After he spoke, someone forcibly spread my legs. With blood and tears on my face, my body was already overwhelmed, tortured to death by pain. Miss Chen couldn’t watch anymore and stepped forward to stop it. “Young Master Zhao, Miss Ford is looking for you at the auction house.” Chapter 4 Hearing this, Julian laughed twice, seemingly thinking of something more fun. He stopped his actions and forcibly stuffed me into the car. Julian smiled evilly at me: “The good show is just beginning! Go, let’s go in front of Miss Ford, let you see the consequences of stealing a woman from me!” “What exactly do you want to do?” I sat in the car, questioning with a cold face. The two men holding me were extremely excited, their hands wandering all over me. I looked at them fiercely, biting anyone who came close. “So slutty, like it rough, huh.” “Let the master enjoy first, otherwise if that thing of yours is ruined, you won’t be able to enjoy it later!” Julian put on a lordly posture in the front seat, despising: “Don’t break him. When we get to the auction house, he still has to serve many people.” I was furious. If not for being held down tightly, I would have torn Julian to pieces. “Julian Zhao, don’t even think about stepping half a foot into the Ford family!” Julian cursed secretly, reaching over to punch me indiscriminately. “Think you can climb the social ladder just because you have some looks, turning into a phoenix, right?” Julian held the knife without hesitation, pressed my leg, and slashed quickly one cut after another. Each cut fell like burning flames, making me tremble uncontrollably. Blood dripped from between my legs onto the floor. In just a few minutes, time dragged like years, suffering torment. “Done!” Julian smiled with satisfaction, holding a mirror to me. The word “SLAVE” was boldly presented on my lower abdomen. He even drew an arrow pointing downwards. “This is the consequence of stealing a woman from me!” “Slave is your exclusive label now, satisfied?” The corners of Julian’s mouth rose high, his face full of winner’s pride. And I was dying of pain, eyes unfocused, unable to say anything except breathe. Just as I was about to pass out, we arrived at the auction house. Julian put me in a sack and dragged me all the way to Claire Ford. He tidied his hair grinningly and sat next to Claire Ford. “Claire, at this auction, I have a surprise for you.” “Can you light the sky lantern for the final item? Look, I’ve even brought the item here for you.” He pointed to the sack at Claire Ford’s feet.

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“If I had to choose, I’d pick Annie as my sister-in-law.” My boyfriend’s sister, Layla, said this publicly while rolling her eyes at me provocatively. Everyone thought I would explode, waiting to see a bloodbath between the future sisters-in-law. But I smiled and said, “I second that,” and announced my breakup with my boyfriend on the spot. My boyfriend said I was making a scene. But when I left the campsite overnight, he saw me but didn’t stop me. Instead, he turned to comfort the girl named Annie, “Sorry for embarrassing you. I apologize on Vivi’s behalf.” I wasn’t sad at all; in fact, I was full of anticipation. This way, during the return trip, I wouldn’t lose the use of my right arm saving Layla in a car accident, only to be despised by their entire family later. Would Layla survive without my desperate rescue? I was eagerly waiting for the result. 1 In my past life, Layla humiliated me publicly just like this. I splashed a whole glass of beer in her face. The future sisters-in-law got into a huge fight, creating quite a spectacle. My boyfriend, Bryan, took sides, only protecting his sister and her best friend, Annie. Although I pulled out a handful of Layla’s hair and kicked Annie, who had been making snide remarks, I seemingly won the fight but lost all my dignity. Even so, I didn’t leave overnight. Because Bryan was not only my boyfriend but also my boss. I was afraid that if I burned bridges, I would lose both my boyfriend and my job. After all, I was just a migrant worker in the big city of Seaview, drifting from a second-tier city. And I held a secretary position with no technical content, easily replaceable at any moment. With my average degree from a decent university, finding another job in Seaview’s current employment market would be incredibly difficult. And my parents, who had high hopes for me, would never agree to me returning to my hometown, Lin City. In their words, Lin City was a place where one lived comfortably only through social connections. They, guarding a small tailor shop that barely made ends meet, couldn’t arrange a decent job for me. They said if I couldn’t stay in Seaview after getting into college there, it would only make them a laughingstock. In my past life, I hid in a dark corner of the campsite alone, feeling miserable all night. Bryan didn’t come out to find me all night. The next day, after watching the sunrise, I appeared thick-skinned and successfully fought off Annie to sit in the passenger seat. My thought process was simple and crude: before I found my next job, I had to firmly hold onto the identity of Bryan’s girlfriend. On the way back, our car overturned while avoiding a large truck. Both Layla and I were sitting on the right side of the car and were thrown out simultaneously, hanging off a cliff. Layla grabbed only a small branch, while I grabbed the main trunk. When the small branch Layla was holding was about to break, I ignored past grievances and resolutely grabbed her with my right arm. Although Bryan and Annie weren’t thrown out, Bryan only cared about saving Annie, who had a small scratch on her scalp, and had no time to care about the lives of Layla and me. I held on until passing drivers joined forces to pull us up. In the end, Layla was unharmed, but my right arm was disabled due to prolonged blood loss. The media reported my heroic act of saving someone. Bryan’s company was at a critical stage of going public, so for the sake of appearances, the White family let Bryan marry me. Layla not only didn’t appreciate me saving her life but blamed me for using the favor to demand repayment, delaying her brother’s great life. Even worse, Layla brought Annie to live in the small home Bryan and I shared, saying it was closer to their university. It seemed she wouldn’t give up until she got Annie into Bryan’s bed. I got into another fight with Layla. I only had one usable arm. Bryan not only didn’t help me but accused me of being petty, unable to tolerate even his own sister. Turning around, he comforted Annie gently, “Sorry for scaring you. I have the final say in this house. You and my sister can stay as long as you want, don’t mind what others think.” My in-laws, upon hearing this, also came to support their biological daughter. My father-in-law slammed the table and shouted, “This house belongs to our White family! A daughter of the White family can stay whenever she wants. Who are you, an outsider named Zhuang, to gossip?” My mother-in-law rolled her eyes to the sky, “We already agreed to Bryan marrying you, what more do you want? Don’t think just because you saved my daughter’s life, you can order us around forever. You don’t call the shots in this house!” Layla even turned the tables, “Mom, Dad, you are too kind! Her arm probably was useless before she saved me. She just seized the opportunity to blame it on our family.” I laughed in anger, “So, you’re blaming me for pulling you up back then?” Layla puffed out her chest confidently, “Of course! If you hadn’t reached out to grab me, I would have swung over and grabbed the main trunk myself.” Thinking for a moment, she pushed Annie forward again, “Besides, if you had let Annie, who gets carsick, sit in the passenger seat, Annie would definitely have grabbed me in the emergency, and neither she nor I would have fallen off the cliff.” Finally, she concluded decisively, “Annie is much smarter than you. She is the one suitable to be my sister-in-law!” I turned to Bryan, who had been silent, “Do you think so too?” Bryan didn’t answer me directly, just rubbing his brow irritably, “Vivi, enough! It’s just my sister bringing a classmate to stay over. Do you have to be so calculative? How long are you going to make a scene? If you don’t want to live here, divorce and get out!” I, who had hoped for a trace of comfort from him, was completely disheartened. But Layla clapped her hands cluelessly, “Divorce, divorce, hurry up and divorce! Brother, it’s great that you finally figured it out!” She pushed Annie into her brother’s arms, “You two lock it down quickly. It would be best to make a little nephew tonight!” Bryan didn’t dodge. Annie shrank into his arms, apologizing to me “shyly,” “Sister Vivi, sorry, Layla is joking with you.” I thought that although she was fake, she at least knew some shame. But she suddenly changed the subject, “However, Sister Vivi, to be honest, you should stop using favors to demand repayment. You already got Brother Bryan, you should coax him and make him happy. Instead of turning the house upside down, making Brother Bryan look half-dead, it’s too heartbreaking. Repaying a favor once is enough; you can’t threaten Brother Bryan with it for a lifetime, right?” Bryan’s parents agreed in unison, believing I was an ungrateful troublemaker who couldn’t even find a job with a disabled hand and wouldn’t serve her man properly. Their son marrying me was simply bad luck. I couldn’t argue against five mouths with just one. Finally, losing control of my emotions, I rushed to the kitchen and came out with a cleaver… My mind was in chaos at the time, so after being reborn, I only remembered that I was the only one left standing in the living room. 2 After being reborn, the first sentence I heard was Layla saying she hoped Annie would be her sister-in-law. I no longer had the indignation of my past life. Instead, I wanted to facilitate this beauty too much. So I smiled and clapped, “I second that!” To show my sincerity, I stood up and announced, “From now on, Bryan and I are no longer in a relationship. For the rest of our lives, weddings and funerals have nothing to do with each other.” Layla’s eyes lit up, “If you have the guts, do what you say!” I nodded solemnly and raised three fingers, “If I don’t, may I be struck by lightning, hit by a car when I go out, and choke on water at home.” Bryan frowned and scolded me gently, “Vivi, don’t mess around with Layla.” The words were spoken to me, but the corner of his eye was clearly watching Annie’s reaction. Annie pursed her lips and smiled, pinching Layla’s arm, “Alright Layla, look, you’ve put Sister Vivi in a difficult spot.” “What difficult spot?” Layla curled her lip dismissively, “Just a country bumpkin, no need to give too much face.” Although I wanted to escape these rotten people quickly, I didn’t plan to flee with my tail between my legs. So, I still splashed that glass of beer from my past life onto Layla’s face. However, unlike in my past life, I didn’t foolishly wait for Layla to counterattack after splashing. I struck first, grabbing Layla’s hair from behind. I pulled tight, immobilizing her body. Annie thought I was still the impulsive but enduring Vivi. She rushed up trying to save Layla, but I kicked her down mercilessly. In my past life, I could take down a group of people with a knife in one hand. Now with sound limbs, dealing with a green tea bitch who didn’t plan to use her full strength was a piece of cake. Bryan tried to rush over to pull me, but I shouted a threat, “You better not move, or I can’t guarantee what my mouth might say.” Bryan had been drugged by a male investor for financing. Although the final step didn’t happen, a video was taken. I was the one who rescued him, which was how we met. He pursued me, saying he was grateful for my beauty and kindness, but I knew in my heart he was mostly trying to silence me. Of course, my beauty was the primary factor. I can say shamelessly that if I weren’t so stubborn, with his current financial resources, he wouldn’t be qualified to be my boyfriend. Being filmed by a male investor was Bryan’s Achilles’ heel; he would rather die than let people know. He guessed I had a copy of that video, so as soon as I spoke, he froze. His other fair-weather friends, who preferred to avoid trouble, had already tactfully stepped aside. Including Annie, who mocked me sarcastically in my past life. As long as I wasn’t afraid of death, others would be. My aura was much fiercer than in my past life. Annie was a bit afraid to provoke me, shrinking behind Bryan like a quail. Layla wailed as I pulled her hair painfully. I kicked the back of her knee, forcing her to kneel and listen to me. “I’m very curious, does Miss White, whose total score in the three main subjects of the college entrance exam was less than 150, know how to write the word ‘country’?” “Your parents swindled money from neighbors to move to the city a few years ago, and you started using ‘country bumpkin’ to curse people. Is this a family misfortune or poor upbringing?” “Do you know why true aristocratic families never use the term ‘country bumpkin’ to insult people?” “Because the more heritage people have, the more they know that country people are the foundation of this society and deserve the most respect. And you nouveau riche, who only had the chance to settle in Seaview by eating the blood buns of fellow villagers,” I couldn’t help kicking Layla in the butt, “are just rootless duckweeds, idiots pretending to be superior by belittling their origins!” I pressed Layla’s head, forcing her to scan everyone one by one, finally facing Annie. “I can responsibly tell you that in the hearts of your good best friend and these Seaview friends, you are just a stupid country bumpkin with money!” The people present, having their thoughts exposed, unconsciously took a step back. I couldn’t help laughing, “Remember, a frog in a well croaking loudly won’t change the fact that it can only see a patch of sky when it looks up. You should be glad I’m just an ordinary citizen, not the ‘country bumpkin’ you talk about…” I pulled Layla’s hair hard, forcing her to look up at me, “Otherwise, you wouldn’t even be qualified to kneel and listen to me speak!” 3 I left Layla and returned to the tent to pack my personal belongings. When I walked out of the tent with my backpack, Bryan was standing in front of the next tent. He saw me and the bag on my shoulder, knowing clearly I was leaving overnight. But he didn’t ask me to stay. Instead, he bowed his head to comfort Annie, who was shrinking beside him, “Sorry for embarrassing you. I apologize on Vivi’s behalf.” I sneered, “Is Mr. White’s habit of liking to ‘represent’ others hereditary?” Layla liked to represent the people of Seaview, while the White parents liked to represent rich people in Seaview. “Since you like to ‘represent’ so much, why don’t you represent me and decide whether I should slap your left cheek or your right?” Bryan didn’t dare to get tough with me, so he sighed, “Vivi, why have you become so unreasonable?” Wasn’t it because your whole family forced me in my past life? I pursed my lips and smiled, “Mr. White, you aren’t my boyfriend anymore, please don’t call me so intimately. Instead of condemning me, you might as well think about how much severance pay would give you peace of mind.” I turned around, waving my hand without looking back, “Don’t expect me to resign voluntarily! Before midnight tonight, I hope to see a satisfactory severance pay in my account.” Otherwise, I really couldn’t control my mouth. I took the campsite shuttle bus and left overnight. When passing the downhill curve where the accident happened in my past life, my heart clenched. Fortunately, there were few cars at night, and the driver was an old hand who drove this route many times a day, so we passed the curve smoothly. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, I received a message from Bryan. [Vivi, stop messing around. Go back and calm down. We’re not breaking up.] Heh, this means he’s not even willing to pay severance. I replied: [The breakup is a notification, not a request for your opinion. When you place other women’s feelings above my dignity, a breakup is the inevitable result. Don’t try to manipulate me; I won’t give you the chance. Severance pay, given reasonably and legally based on my value to the company. I won’t reply again, don’t waste your energy.] What Bryan wanted was for me to leave written threats in a moment of anger, so we could hold leverage over each other, saving him a large hush money fee. How could I fall for that after living a second life? Thinking about it, I decided to give him a reassurance pill: [You should be glad I’m a woman of my word and prefer to solve problems once and for all. Also, please clearly remark ‘company severance pay’ when transferring.] With the money in place, I definitely wouldn’t release that video, nor would I endlessly ask him for money. Bryan understood what I meant. Before I returned to my apartment in Seaview, I received a transfer of two million marked “company severance pay.” I didn’t bargain with him anymore. Knowing when to stop is a virtue of mine. Early the next morning, I dragged my suitcase to the Seaside New City in Seaview. It was far from the city center, with few people, but the scenery was incredibly healing. Especially the sunrise and sunset, beautiful enough to make one forget all worries. Decent apartments in the city center started at ten million, but here, I spent only one million to buy a one-bedroom apartment with a decent location and elevator. Since the seller had no mortgage and I paid in full, the transfer was completed the same day. The landlord was straightforward, giving me the keys on the spot without waiting for the escrow funds to arrive. In the evening, while I was busy tidying up my new home, my phone alarm rang. I suddenly remembered that the car accident in my past life happened at this time. To eat the first melon (gossip) in time, I set an alarm immediately after leaving the campsite last night. Busy all day, if not for the alarm, I would have forgotten about the gossip. 4 I was very curious about the outcome of the car accident without me grabbing the passenger seat. So I eagerly opened social media. The omnipresent internet soon satisfied my desire for gossip. From the video uploaded by netizens, I could see Layla and Annie hanging from a tree off the cliff. The situation was exactly the same as in my past life, except Annie replaced me. So, needless to guess, Annie successfully sat in the passenger seat this time. Without needing to save an ambiguous partner with a scratched scalp, Bryan had time to rush to the cliff edge to save people this time. He first grabbed Annie, who was closest to him. But only her fingers. Annie’s other hand had to hug the tree trunk, or she would fall. Moreover, like me back then, Annie’s leg was stuck in a tree fork, obviously broken. Bryan grabbing only her fingers couldn’t pull her up. I remembered in my past life, a kind driver lowered a safety rope and helped pull my leg out of the tree fork to save me successfully. The person filming was probably one of their fair-weather friends. It was already merciful of them not to kick them when they were down; expecting them to go down the cliff to save people was impossible. In the video, the small branch Layla was holding began to break, and she let out terrified screams. Annie didn’t extend a helping hand as Layla expected but hugged the tree trunk tightly, urging Bryan to pull her up quickly. Bryan was her brother after all. Seeing this, he decisively let go of Annie and carefully climbed down the curb. He hugged the tree trunk next to him and reached out to grab Layla with one hand. As soon as their hands touched, the small branch broke completely and fell off the cliff. Like me in my past life, Bryan supported Layla’s entire body with just one arm. Like in my past life, many passing kind drivers stopped to help. But unlike in my past life, both trees capable of supporting people had people hanging on them. The rescuers couldn’t use another tree as a pivot like before. So, even if the kind big brother who saved me in my past life appeared, he couldn’t go down quickly to fish people out like before. Therefore, the time Bryan supported Layla with one arm was longer than I did in my past life. The kind big brother lowered the safety rope and pulled up the relatively easier-to-save Annie first. When he descended to Layla’s height, preparing to help pull her up together, Bryan couldn’t hold on anymore. Before the kind big brother could grab Layla’s hand, he let go. Layla let out a heart-wrenching scream and fell off the cliff… I thought this was the end, so I started negotiating with my conscience to allow me to pop the champagne. An hour later, before I could reach a settlement with my conscience, I saw the latest update. Layla was found by the rescue team and was actually still alive! I quickly ran to take the subway, transferring for two and a half hours to rush to the downtown hospital for the finale.

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