Category: English

Because I went to the hospital a few times, I was jointly reported by the parents of my students. “Senior year is so crucial. As the homeroom teacher, you need to be on call 24/7. Will you die if you don’t go to the hospital?” “Even if it’s the weekend, what if something happens and we can’t find you? If you don’t even have that basic level of commitment, why are you even a homeroom teacher?” “At the end of the day, it’s just selfishness. Someone like this doesn’t even deserve to be a teacher!” I was both furious and shocked. For the past two years, I had poured my heart and soul into this class, taking them from the bottom of the grade to ranking first. I worked myself into the ground, getting sick in the process, yet I didn’t even dare ask for a sick day for fear of impacting my students. And after all that, I was being accused of being selfish? When my students found out I was reported, every single one of them had a cold, indifferent expression, acting as if it had nothing to do with them. My heart turned to ice. Whoever wants this homeroom teacher job can have it. A few months later, that same group of parents was standing outside my front door. “Mr. Vance, we’re begging you, please come back.” 01 I was reported. All the parents in my class jointly filed a complaint against me for being “irresponsible,” demanding the school immediately strip me of my homeroom teacher duties and my position as the math teacher. When the principal told me this, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Ever since I took over this class, I had worked tirelessly, exhausting myself. I always put the students first, practically handing my heart over to them on a silver platter. And the parents actually had the nerve to call me irresponsible?! “The parents in your class are being extremely aggressive. They even said that if the school doesn’t meet their demands, they’ll escalate the report to the Board of Education.” My face looked terrible. The principal said sternly, “Mr. Vance, what you need to do right now is reflect on yourself. If you truly had absolutely zero issues, why would the parents collectively report you?” This was utterly baffling! How did this suddenly become my fault? I was just about to argue back, but the principal waved me off impatiently. “Alright, that’s enough. Go back and wait for the school’s decision.” Walking out of the principal’s office, the more I thought about it, the more depressed I felt. Finally, unable to hold it in, I sent a message in the parent-teacher group chat. “Parents, since I took on the role of homeroom teacher, I have always put the class first. I wouldn’t dare say I’ve given my absolute all, but I have certainly been dedicated and diligent. If you feel there are areas where I’ve fallen short in my work, you are more than welcome to communicate with me directly. Baseless misunderstandings and accusations truly chill the hearts of educators.” A few minutes later, a message popped up. Matthew’s Mom: “Misunderstandings? Are you saying we’re falsely accusing you? A homeroom teacher running off to the hospital every few days—do you think that’s appropriate? Who gave you that right? Who gave you that freedom? How are you supposed to focus your energy on the students like this? The final semester of senior year is so critical. Will you die if you don’t go to the hospital?” That barrage of blunt, unapologetic questioning left me stunned on the spot. 02 Two years of high-intensity work had severely damaged my cervical and lumbar spine. Every night, the pain was so bad I couldn’t sleep. My doctor strongly advised me to take a long leave of absence to rest. But given that it was already their senior year, I was worried the students wouldn’t adapt well to a new homeroom teacher. So, I could only squeeze out time on the weekends to go to the hospital for conservative, non-invasive treatments. As for resting, I figured I would at least wait until the students graduated. Even if you beat me to death, I never would have imagined that the parents would report me over this. I forced myself to be patient and replied: “Matthew’s Mom, homeroom teachers are human too; getting sick is unavoidable. Moreover, I only go to the hospital during my private time on the weekends. It hasn’t impacted my work with the class at all.” I didn’t expect her next words to be even more speechless. “Oh, please! Private time? What private time do you have? You are a teacher, a homeroom teacher. You should be on standby 24 hours a day!” At that point, other parents started chiming in one after another to agree. Chloe’s Dad: “I agree with Matthew’s Mom. If you’re going to be a homeroom teacher, you need to have that level of commitment. If you can’t do it, why are you even a homeroom teacher?” Ethan’s Dad: “Last semester, you took three consecutive days off to get married. I thought that was completely inappropriate at the time.” Noah’s Mom: “We only agreed to let you be the homeroom teacher because of your seniority and experience. If we knew you were going to be this high-maintenance, we would have rather had a young teacher from the start!” I couldn’t help but argue back. “Parents, I have developed some health issues, but I have never let that interfere with the class. These past two years, no matter how exhausting or grueling it got, I persevered for the sake of this class. If I really just wanted an easy life, I could have proactively resigned from my position as homeroom teacher.” But Matthew’s Mom retorted: “Give it a rest! You make it sound so noble, but isn’t it just for the money? Everyone knows homeroom teachers get paid more than regular teachers.” 03 My blood pressure instantly skyrocketed. In that moment, I wanted to curse them all out. It’s true that homeroom teachers get paid slightly more than regular subject teachers. An extra hundred dollars a semester. Can you believe it? Waking up earlier than the roosters, going to sleep later than the dogs. Spending seventeen or eighteen hours a day at the school. Endless homeroom teacher meetings, endless class administrative tasks, endless performance evaluations to write, endless parent feedback to reply to. Even on weekends and holidays, the progress reports and summaries never stopped. My phone was on 24/7, ready to handle any sudden emergencies at a moment’s notice. All in all, the workload of a homeroom teacher was more than ten times that of a regular subject teacher. Did they really think I was working myself to death just for that extra hundred bucks? Am I really that pathetic? The attacks against me in the group chat continued. “Not only do homeroom teachers get paid more, but they also get priority for ‘Teacher of the Year’ awards and promotions. There are plenty of perks!” “No wonder he couldn’t bear to give up the homeroom teacher position even when he was sick… Heh, I’m speechless.” “Damn it, if you want to make money, don’t drag our kids down! Do we owe you something?!” “Hurry up and get out!” I was so angry I couldn’t even speak. If I just wanted to make money, I would have left a long time ago. The private high school next door had previously offered to double my salary to poach me, but I politely declined. What was I doing it for? Wasn’t it for the students?! For their precious little darlings?! Ms. Roberts, the English teacher, couldn’t stand it anymore. “Mr. Vance has pushed through his illness for the sake of the students. Not only are you completely un-understanding, but how can you say such awful things to him? Are the students’ grades not enough to prove his dedication?” In the two years I had led this class, they had gone from being ranked at the bottom of the grade to being number one. That was an undeniable fact. There was a brief silence in the group chat. Then, one parent suddenly said, “That’s because the kids worked hard themselves. It would have been the same no matter which teacher led them; it has absolutely nothing to do with you.” Immediately after, a wave of agreement flooded the chat. “Exactly! My son studies until midnight every day. With that kind of effort, how could his grades not be good?” “The practice workbooks my daughter has completed could stack up as tall as a person!” “He really knows how to take credit for other people’s hard work.” 04 I was so angry my neck hurt. The students did work hard, but that study habit was only formed because I constantly pushed them. To put it bluntly, the students in Class 6 had a poor foundation, weak basics, and lacked any initiative to study. If they had been given a teacher with even slightly less sense of responsibility or slightly weaker skills, they would have been absolutely impossible to lead. Over the past two years, I had stayed up late countless times designing personalized teaching plans suited for the students in our class. I gave up my daily rest periods to offer one-on-one tutoring to the students, often just grabbing a piece of bread and a bottle of water for dinner. I gave free tutoring to the students at my home on weekends and holidays. I bought various study materials and prizes for the students out of my own pocket. I dare say I put more heart and effort into this than any other teacher in the school. But now, this group of parents was saying the students’ grades had absolutely nothing to do with me. Absolutely nothing! Furious, I typed: “Since everyone feels the students’ grades rely entirely on themselves, then how does me doing my own things during my off-hours affect them at all?” The parents all started arguing back at once. “What, do students only care about grades? Let me ask you, what if my kid doesn’t get enough to eat at school? What if they forget to drink water? What if they didn’t wear enough clothes and catch a cold? What if they feel sick?” “The kids are already tired enough from studying. The homeroom teacher should be responsible for chores like cleaning the classroom.” “Evening study hall ends too late every day. If you ask me, the homeroom teacher should be responsible for taking the students home.” Ms. Roberts sent me a private message. “Are these parents insane? Do they think a homeroom teacher is a babysitter?” Watching the messages constantly popping up in the group chat, my temples throbbed. I took a deep breath. Using my very last shred of patience, I said sincerely: “Parents, there is less than half a year left until the college entrance exams. I implore you all to trust me and give me one more chance. I promise I will do my absolute best to fulfill my duties as homeroom teacher.” But a single sentence from Matthew’s Mom instantly broke my composure. “You really are shameless. Are you just planning to seek revenge afterward and make things difficult for our kids?!” That single sentence completely broke my composure. Fine. Fine. Fine. I quit! 05 I had spent months developing comprehensive second and third-round review plans for everyone in the class. Forty-five plans in total, each one different. Even though I couldn’t continue leading this class, I still hoped to fulfill my final responsibility and show my care before I left. When I walked into the classroom during the afternoon study hall, a wave of complaints instantly erupted. “Damn, what kind of packets are those? Why are they so thick?” “Every day I open my eyes, it’s just study, study, study. I’m so tired, I seriously want to throw up.” “He’s taking up our study hall again…” These little brats. So what if they’re a little tired? What high school senior isn’t tired? Just as I was about to speak, Matthew suddenly asked loudly, “Mr. Vance, if we all get into Tier-1 universities, are you going to get a huge bonus of hundreds of thousands of dollars?” I didn’t process what he was asking for a second. “What?” “Otherwise, why would you treat us like pack mules every day? It must be because there’s a massive benefit in it for you. But since you aren’t going to teach us anymore, I think you should stop wasting your energy.” My face instantly fell. Matthew was a loudmouth. If he knew about this, then the whole class definitely knew too. I looked down at the class. The expressions on everyone’s faces were either impatient or completely apathetic. Which meant that knowing their parents had reported me, knowing that I—the homeroom teacher who had led them for two years—was leaving, not a single one of them showed even a hint of reluctance or sadness. What was even more unacceptable was that my students actually thought I was pushing them to study hard purely for my own benefit! In that moment, I didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling. I said coldly, “Oh. Then continue your study hall.” The moment I walked out, cheers erupted in the classroom. “Woohoo! The King of Hell is finally gone!” “Does this mean we’re liberated from now on?” “Finally, we don’t have to be forced by him to do those packets every day! Damn, do you guys know I literally have nightmares about him?!” 06 My heart was utterly frozen. I felt so awful I barely slept that night. The school moved fast. By the next day, a new homeroom teacher had been selected. Chosen exactly according to the demands of that group of parents. Single and unmarried. A docile personality. And she lived right there in the faculty dorms, truly present at the school 24 hours a day. The class group chat got lively again. Matthew’s Mom said, “Parents, even though this Ms. Carter is a bit younger, I have already spoken with her privately. She promised she will take excellent care of our kids.” “Thank you so much for your hard work, Matthew’s Mom! You really ran yourself ragged sorting out this top priority for our class.” “Oh, there’s no need to thank me. It’s all for the kids!” “Exactly, exactly!” I didn’t want to stay in that group chat for another second. After handing over my duties to the new homeroom teacher, the very first thing I did was leave the group. Then, I submitted my resignation to the school. The administration was quite displeased. “Mr. Vance, you aren’t some naive, immature young teacher. Even if you weren’t in the wrong here, is it really necessary to threaten the school with resignation? What teacher doesn’t suffer a little injustice? To put it bluntly, even if a parent hit you today, you’d still just have to endure it!” There was no point in arguing with someone who couldn’t understand. I didn’t bother explaining further and firmly processed my resignation. When I left, not a single person from the class came to see me off. I just considered the past two years of my genuine devotion to have been fed to the dogs. During my time off, I underwent a minimally invasive surgery. I woke up naturally every day, ate three meals on time, and spent my free time reading and watching TV shows. Not only did all my minor ailments disappear, but I also gained over ten pounds in less than a month. A few days after I resigned, it happened to be the first major mock exam for the seniors. Class 6 remained ranked number one in the grade. A few parents I had forgotten to unfriend posted on their timelines. “Facts prove that our children’s excellence relies entirely on themselves! It has nothing to do with anyone else!” “To certain arrogant, self-important people: No one in this world is indispensable.” They were just short of tagging me directly. 07 I felt absolutely nothing. No one understood that group of students better than I did. They had no internal drive; they only knew how to study passively. Without me—the homeroom teacher exhausting myself to drag them forward—let’s just wait and see what happens. After resting for half a month, Mingde Academy—the school that had previously tried to poach me—called me again. “Mr. Vance, as long as you’re willing to come, we welcome you anytime!” They reiterated their promise: they were still willing to pay me double my previous salary. Before going, I had one condition: I absolutely would not be a homeroom teacher. Being just a regular subject teacher meant I wouldn’t have to worry about endless class management tasks, wouldn’t have to exhaust myself maintaining parent-teacher relationships, wouldn’t have to deal with all sorts of bizarre people and drama, and wouldn’t have to worry about having zero personal space. By focusing solely on my teaching, I wouldn’t be heartbroken over investing my emotions and getting absolutely nothing in return. “Mr. Vance, you coming here really is a huge help to us. The previous math teacher went on maternity leave, and we were getting really worried,” the homeroom teacher of my new class told me happily. I was still teaching seniors. After Mr. Lee, the homeroom teacher, added me to the Class 2 parent-teacher group chat, I gave a standard, professional greeting. I didn’t expect the parents to get so excited. “Are you the Mr. Vance who used to be at First High?” “Mr. Vance, I’ve watched your public math lectures! They take complex concepts and make them easy to understand, and they’re so engaging and humorous! You teach brilliantly!” “I was getting really anxious, but finding out that Mr. Vance is taking over our class’s math… I’m suddenly not worried at all anymore!” I replied politely: “Thank you all for your kind words. I will do my absolute best to teach our class well. If anyone has any opinions or suggestions regarding my teaching, please feel free to communicate with me anytime.” I thought people would start adding me privately. With my old class, the parents insisted on adding every single subject teacher just so they could contact us at any time, completely disregarding any concept of boundaries. But to my surprise, not a single parent from this group sent me a private friend request. 08 “You’re too modest, Mr. Vance. You’re the professional. All we need to do is trust you!” Another parent chimed in: “Mr. Vance just arrived, so he definitely has a lot on his plate. Let’s not bother him right now.” “Right, right, right! I was just too excited and got a little carried away.” “Mr. Vance, please go ahead and get back to your work.” Perhaps because private schools are naturally more competitive and demanding, the students were incredibly proactive and driven. I quickly adapted to my new work environment. Over at First High, however, the new homeroom teacher for Class 6 didn’t seem to be having a smooth time. Less than a month into the job, she, just like me, was reported by the parents. The reason for the report was ridiculous: the teacher didn’t answer a parent’s phone call. When Ms. Roberts relayed the story to me, she was so furious she could barely speak clearly. “Just because she didn’t answer the phone, the parent actually marched right into the school and slapped Ms. Carter across the face!” I was shocked. They actually got physical? “Ms. Carter was literally teaching a class! How was she supposed to answer the phone? And do you know why the parent called? Just to have the teacher top up her son’s meal card! My god, how old is her son?! Does he not have hands?!” I remained silent. That was exactly the kind of thing those parents would do. When I was there, I had to be available on WeChat 24/7. Even if they called in the middle of the night, I couldn’t ignore it. If a student didn’t get enough to eat at school, didn’t drink enough water, or even got dirt on their collar, they would come to me. Parents with boarding students even asked me if I could help wash their kids’ clothes, claiming their children had never washed clothes at home before. Thinking back on it now, it was probably because I had refused so many of their unreasonable demands that those parents had long harbored a grudge against me. The parent who slapped her wasn’t just anyone. It was Matthew’s Mom. Being slapped by a parent in front of the entire class… and instead of apologizing, the parent played the victim and reported her. No human being could tolerate that. Ms. Carter immediately declared she was quitting. I quickly asked, “And what was the school’s stance?”

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My brother is gay, and I’m a lesbian. I have my eye on his arranged marriage partner. My future sister-in-law has fair skin, a beautiful face, and long legs. But her hands are what really get me—long, slender fingers with pronounced knuckles. In the middle of the night, I stole my brother’s phone and texted her to meet me at a hotel. The next morning, right outside the hotel entrance. My brother was leaning shyly against my fiancé’s chest, while my sister-in-law had her arm wrapped securely around my waist. The four of us stared at each other in absolute, stunned silence. 1 My dad’s business went under, leaving him buried in debt. He tried to start a new project but couldn’t find a single investor. Just when we hit a dead end, the Sterling family—the number one old-money family in New York—extended an olive branch. The eldest daughter of the Sterling family said she wanted my brother to marry into her family, and that I should come along as part of the “package deal.” In exchange, she would invest twenty million dollars in my dad’s project. The eldest daughter’s brother said he wanted to marry me, and that my brother should come along as my “dowry.” In exchange, he would also invest twenty million dollars. My dad sat on the sofa and slapped his thigh. “Yes, yes, yes! Both of you will marry into the Sterling family!” My mom wiped her tears, loudly scolding my dad for selling his children. “The Sterling family is famously complicated! Sending them there is like throwing sheep into a wolf’s den!” My parents argued fiercely. My brother and I just looked at each other, keeping our heads down, neither of us daring to speak. My brother couldn’t marry the Sterling family’s eldest daughter, and I couldn’t marry her brother. They just didn’t know it yet. My brother and I… he’s gay, and I’m a lesbian. The Vance family had both a son and a daughter, but unfortunately, no heirs to carry on the traditional bloodline. 2 It wasn’t until the Sterling family’s eldest daughter, Serena, and her brother, Arthur, showed up at our door with their hands full of expensive gifts that my mom finally shut up. My brother and I exchanged a glance, reading the exact same thought in each other’s eyes. Right off the bat, Serena shoved a bank card into my mom’s hand. It held a neat two million dollars. She turned to look at my brother, flashing a perfect set of white teeth, and then smiled at me—a smile that could literally steal a soul: “Mrs. Vance, this is a little welcome gift for Liam.” Not to be outdone, Arthur shoved a card into my dad’s hand: “Mr. Vance, this is a welcome gift for Chloe.” Immediately after, Serena dumped a pile of gift boxes into my arms. She looked apologetically at my brother and my parents: “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t know what boys like, so I just bought some things that girls like for little Chloe. Liam, you don’t mind, do you?” Serena was very tall and wearing stiletto heels. When she leaned in close to me, I had a perfect view of her beautiful, pale collarbones. Her chest rose and fell slightly with her breathing, and the fresh scent of jasmine radiating from her was incredibly intoxicating. I stared so hard my eyes practically crossed. My heart was pounding frantically against my ribs. Unable to hold back, I blurted out: “Sister-in-law, you smell so good.” The moment the words left my mouth, my brother jolted in terror. He jumped up and clamped his hand over my mouth. He glared at me viciously, terrified our parents would realize something was wrong. My parents were cringing so hard their toes could have curled through the floorboards. But Serena suddenly burst into laughter. She leaned her face right in front of mine. Her voice was as melodic as a clear spring, yet even though it was a perfectly normal sentence, I heard it through a dizzy haze. It was like I was being tempted by a demon from the depths of hell, and I couldn’t stop my legs from tensing up. “If little Chloe likes it, next time you come to my house, I’ll give you some.” I lowered my head shyly, not daring to look her in the eye. Serena’s long hair brushed gently against my cheek, feeling like thousands of tiny ants biting at my heart—an agonizing, unbearable itch. Right before they left, Serena’s fingers lightly trailed across the back of my hand. Those beautiful, captivating peach-blossom eyes stared straight at me: “Don’t forget to come to my house, little Chloe.” 3 After the Sterling siblings left, the four of us sat in a neat row on the sofa. Nobody said a word. My mom twisted her fingers, looking hesitantly at me and my brother. She opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to force out a single syllable. My brother secretly elbowed me, his eyes sending frantic signals. Normally, our family shared one brain cell, but right now, everyone was playing 4D chess in their heads. After a light cough, my dad couldn’t hold it in anymore and spoke first. “So, um, the Sterling family officially proposed today. You’ve met them now. What do you think?” My mom, after hesitating for half the day, finally spoke up: “Chloe, Liam… after meeting them today, Mom thinks the Sterling family is solid. With them around, you two will definitely have a good life after you marry in.” My brother couldn’t hold back: “Mom, you were just blinded by that massive red envelope.” My mom’s face instantly flushed with extreme embarrassment. I quickly tried to smooth things over: “That’s not true, my brother is just talking nonsense.” I elbowed him hard, signaling him to behave. But my brother just got up angrily and stomped upstairs, leaving the three of us staring at each other. I tried to salvage the situation: “Maybe Liam just doesn’t want to marry into their family.” My dad slammed his hand on the coffee table in frustration: “Marrying into the number one old-money family in New York? How is that beneath him?!” Seeing the situation escalating, I quickly stepped in to calm him down. “Dad, don’t be mad. Liam just needs a minute to process it. I’ll go talk to him.” Knowing my brother’s lack of filter, if a real fight broke out, I was terrified he’d blurt out that I was a lesbian and he was gay. If that happened, we were truly finished. After calming my dad down, I quickly scrambled upstairs. When I opened his bedroom door, my brother was furiously punching a stuffed animal I had given him. Seeing me, he shot me an annoyed glare, then turned his back to me and ignored me. I poked his back. He spun around in a circle but still refused to look at me. “Are you really mad?” He frustratingly grabbed the little bear’s ears and said fiercely to it: “You knew I already had a boyfriend, but you still teamed up with Mom and Dad to break us up! You’re evil!” Mom always said my brother was born the wrong gender and should have been a girl. She wasn’t entirely wrong. In a certain sense, my brother really was a girl. I let out a fake, helpless sigh, keeping my peripheral vision glued to him. “Sigh, what are we going to do then? You’ll just have to go tell Mom and Dad that I’m a lesbian and you’re gay…” Before I could finish, my brother bounced off the rug and clamped his hand over my mouth. He looked around nervously like a thief, ran over, and deadbolted the door. Only then did he frown, point at me, and demand: “Are you crazy?! Saying that in this house? Do you have a death wish?!” I shrugged carelessly: “Do you have a better plan?” Remembering the way my brother looked at Arthur earlier, a wicked idea sprouted in my mind. I leaned close to his ear and whispered my demonic plan. He was so shocked by my scandalous idea that his eyes went wide with disbelief. “Y-y-y-y-y-you… how could you suggest that?!” “Besides, I already have a boyfriend!” I rolled my eyes. I hit him with the brutal truth: “Oh, you mean that guy you’ve been dating online for three months? The one whose name, voice, and face you don’t even know? You don’t even know if he’s a human or a ghost!” My brother’s face turned bright red. “Don’t talk about him like that! We are truly in love!” I rolled my eyes again, let out a mocking “Tsk,” and then added fuel to the fire. “Plus, the way you were looking at Arthur today… I refuse to believe you don’t like him.” My brother’s face turned even redder, this time from embarrassment. He mumbled a weak defense, his voice as quiet as a mosquito, completely lacking any conviction. “Don’t talk nonsense.” I knew the time was ripe, so I whispered my demonic plan again. This time, he didn’t argue. He just bit his lip and looked at me. When my dad found out my brother agreed, he was overjoyed and praised me relentlessly. It made me feel guilty. If my dad knew our actual intentions, I was terrified he’d jump out of bed in the middle of the night to beat us. 4 Once everything was finalized, both the Vance and Sterling families were thrilled. My brother and I smoothly added Serena and Arthur on WeChat. But after more than half a month, my chat history with Arthur hadn’t progressed past the initial, formal greeting from the day we added each other. On the other hand, Serena—my future sister-in-law—was incredibly enthusiastic toward me. Every single day, rain or shine, she reliably sent me “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Goodnight.” One day, Serena sent me a photo. It was a picture of a fair, beautiful hand. The fingers were long and slender, the knuckles distinct, and the nails were filed into neat, rounded shapes. Looking at the photo of Serena’s hand, I thought about her face and the faint scent she always carried, and I swallowed hard. If that hand were… Realizing my thoughts were drifting into very inappropriate territory, I quickly shook my head, trying to dump the dirty trash out of my brain. My focus returned, and I finally noticed that Serena had also sent a message. [Little Chloe, what do you think of this wedding ring?] Following Serena’s text, I noticed she was actually wearing a ring in the photo. It was a silver band with an intricate, interwoven design, set with a beautiful diamond shaped like a rose. It was understated yet luxurious. Thinking about our conversations over the past few days, I felt a wave of profound defeat. Even though my fiancé, Arthur, hadn’t spoken a single word to me, the woman of my dreams spent every day talking to me… about my brother. Damn it, is my sister-in-law actually straight? The thought that she would be marrying my brother in a few months made me so miserable I couldn’t even speak. I threw a little inner tantrum and deliberately replied: [It’s ugly.] I didn’t expect Serena to reply instantly. [What’s wrong? Do you not like it?] I froze, suddenly realizing that this was her and my brother’s wedding ring. I shouldn’t be so petty. Just as I was trying to figure out how to backtrack, Serena sent another message. [Since little Chloe doesn’t like it, next time you can come with me to pick one out.] My brain short-circuited. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. When I looked up, I saw my brother looking equally depressed. We looked like two neglected concubines in a royal palace, staring at each other with mutual disgust, sighing deeply. I asked him: “How are things going on your end?” My brother shook his head and sighed: “Don’t even ask. When I chat with him, eight out of ten sentences are about you.” Then he asked me: “What about you?” I let out a long sigh, my face full of bitterness: “Same.” We hugged each other, buried our heads in each other’s shoulders, and cried. 5 As the wedding date drew closer, the anxiety on my brother’s and my faces grew visibly. My dad even joked: “You’re just getting married, look how nervous you two are.” My brother and I exchanged a look, reading the shared agony of our mutual suffering in each other’s eyes. After tossing and turning until midnight, I suddenly sat bolt upright in bed. No, I had to talk to Serena and clear the air! So, using the cover of darkness, I snuck into my brother’s room and stole his phone. I opened WeChat, and staring at the completely empty chat history between him and Serena, I froze in place. What is wrong with the Sterling family?! Why do they have this bizarre habit of not talking to the person they actually like, and instead running to someone else to talk about how much they like them?! After agonizing over it, I opened the chat box anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut and furiously typed a message. I didn’t expect Serena to be awake in the middle of the night too. Serena: [?] I looked closely at the message I sent and instantly felt like the sky was falling. [Sister-in-law, this is my brother. Are you free tonight? Room 8088 at the Imperial Grand Hotel. Be there or be square.] I frantically tried to unsend it, only to realize the two-minute window had already passed. I had no choice but to awkwardly try to fix it. [Um, about that… my cat was acting up and typed that.] The chat box showed “typing…” for what felt like forever. I waited for almost ten minutes, and nothing happened. Finally, she replied. [Mm.] Since things had already reached this point, I decided to just fully embrace the chaos. I sent one more message. [So, are we meeting up or what?] I closed my eyes, waiting for destiny to judge me. To my surprise, Serena replied instantly this time. Hearing the WeChat notification ping, I didn’t dare open my eyes for a long time. After a lengthy internal battle, I finally peeked. Seeing the word [Okay] on the screen, my heart became a tangled mess of emotions—sour and sweet all at once. I didn’t know if she agreed because she thought I was my brother, or because of something else entirely. 6 After debating with myself in bed for a long time, I finally got dressed and snuck out into the night. When I saw Serena at the hotel entrance, I didn’t know how to describe my feelings. She had clearly dressed up carefully. Under the lights, every single strand of her hair seemed to glow. From a distance, she looked as pure and beautiful as an angel. The thought that she dressed up this meticulously for my brother filled me with an unbearable ache. I hung my head, dragging my feet like a snail until I was standing in front of her. Keeping my head down, my voice thick with congestion, I said: “I’m sorry, sister-in-law. I lied to you. I’m not my brother.” Compared to Serena’s flawless styling, I looked like a stray kid who had wandered out in her pajamas. Suddenly, a hand rested on the top of my head. Serena bent down, bringing her face incredibly close to mine. We were so close our lips were almost touching. Her warm breath gently brushed my cheek, landing like a feather on my heart. Meeting my red, teary eyes, Serena’s eyes curved into a smile. Those full, glossy red lips parted, and she spoke the most beautiful words in the world. “Little Chloe, I know it’s you. It was always you.” I froze. The tears welling in my eyes refused to fall. Serena pulled me into a hug. Because my head was lowered, my face was buried perfectly against her soft, sweet-smelling chest. Unable to control myself, I took several deep, greedy breaths. So good. So soft. Serena’s voice, carrying a hint of a smile, sounded in my ear. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her soft lips pressed against my ear. Her voice was incredibly seductive, making my heart tremble: “Little Chloe, do you want to get a room with your sister-in-law?” My brain turned into absolute mush. I had no idea how to even form a thought. By the time I regained my senses, I was already tumbling around on the hotel bed with Serena. As Serena bit my collarbone, I stared blankly at the ceiling. Dissatisfied with my spacing out, she reached down and pinched the soft flesh of my waist: “Baby, focus.” A strong wave of moral guilt suddenly surged within me. I half-heartedly tried to push her away, my words sounding hypocritically pure: “Sister-in-law, this isn’t right. If my brother finds out…” Serena pinned down my wandering hands, her other hand lightly gripping my neck. “My dress is already off, and now you want to talk about this?”

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I am the protagonist of a torture-porn tragedy. The rules are simple: once my Misery Index hits 100, I get to wake up. I get to go back to the real world. My wife, Elena, had me strapped to a sterile surgical table in a private clinic. The scalpel in her hand was steady, cold against my skin. “Jonah was burned, Gavin. He needs a skin graft.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, clinical and detached. “He has a low tolerance for pain. He can’t handle the harvest. It has to be yours.” Without waiting for a response, she pushed the plunger, sending the anesthetic burning through my veins. When I woke up, the room was empty. My phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed incessantly. It was a text from Jonah. Elena is incredible. You really fed her well before I got here. I stared at the taunt. A bitter, self-deprecating laugh bubbled up in my throat, pulling painfully at the fresh stitches across my chest. The pain bloomed like a dark flower. [Current Misery Index: 90/100] 1 Elena didn’t show up until the dead of night. By then, the anesthesia had worn off, leaving me thrashing in a sweat-soaked haze of raw nerve endings. “Still awake?” She placed a hand on my forehead. Cool, soft. A lie. As she leaned over to check my temperature, the neckline of her silk blouse shifted. I saw it—the fresh, bruising mark of a hickey on her collarbone. “Good. No fever,” she murmured, pulling up a chair. “I’ll stay with you tonight.” She sat down, eyes cast downward. I searched her face for a flicker of guilt, a trace of the infidelity I knew was there. There was nothing. Just a smooth, marble mask. The silence in the VIP suite was suffocating. Eventually, Elena couldn’t handle the quiet. “Jonah has a coagulation disorder,” she said, her voice tight. “Taking skin from his own body wasn’t an option.” She stared at me, waiting. Waiting for the explosion. The jealousy. The screaming match. I just stared at the ceiling. “Mm.” My indifference seemed to irritate her more than my anger ever did. “Gavin, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she snapped. “I know you hate him. I know you’re jealous. But you owe him this.” Her eyes narrowed. “Heal up. And don’t even think about retaliation.” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and gave a small nod. I owe him? I was the one bleeding. I was always the one bleeding. Jonah was a scholarship student Elena’s family foundation supported. For years, I couldn’t understand why the entire world seemed to bend to his will, why logic dissolved whenever he was in the room. Then I realized the truth. I was a character in a book. A “sacrificial husband” archetype in a dark romance novel. The plot demanded I suffer. Only through my destruction could Elena and her true love, Jonah, achieve their twisted happy ending. Halfway through the night, a single phone call from Jonah summoned Elena away. She didn’t hesitate. The next day, I discharged myself. I pulled into the driveway of our estate, stitches pulling tight, only to find Jonah standing on the front porch. He was holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums—flowers for the dead. “Gavin,” he smiled, a sickly sweet expression. “Thanks for the skin. It fits perfectly.” He waved his right arm. I walked past him, too exhausted to engage. Suddenly, a shriek tore through the air. Elena rushed out of the house, my parents close behind her. They found Jonah sprawled on the pavement, clutching his arm. Blood was seeping through his bandages. He bit his lip, offering Elena a brave, teary smile. “I… I tripped. It’s my fault. The wound opened up. It has nothing to do with Gavin.” “Gavin!” Elena screamed, turning on me like a viper. “How can you be so vindictive?” “Don’t blame him,” Jonah whimpered, shrinking back as if terrified of me. “You don’t need to protect him,” Elena cooed, cradling his injured arm. My mother stepped forward, her face a mask of disappointment. “Gavin. When are you going to learn?” I looked at them. I offered no defense. I knew the script. Anything I said would be twisted into an admission of guilt. My father grabbed me by the collar. He dragged me to the “Quiet Room”—a soundproofed space in the basement they claimed was for my rehabilitation. It was built to “correct” my jealousy. When the electricity hit me, I heard my teeth chatter. It was a mechanical sound, like dice rattling in a cup. My jaw clamped shut so hard I thought the bone would snap. The cattle prod dug into my side. Muscles seized. Heat flooded my lap. I had lost control of my bladder. The humiliating warmth soaked my trousers, the scent of urine mixing with the damp, moldy air of the basement. Jonah stood in the doorway, hand covering his nose, eyes dancing with amusement. “Gavin peed himself,” he said, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Maybe stop? He needs a change of clothes.” Elena lowered the prod, looking at the puddle with sheer disgust. “Apologize to Jonah. Now. Have you no dignity?” “Still playing dead?” My father sneered. “Look at Jonah! You frame him, you hurt him, and he still defends you. Do you have any remorse inside that sick head of yours?” He kicked me in the ribs. I didn’t flinch. I felt something crack—a rib, maybe puncturing the spleen. “Mom, Dad, Elena… please,” Jonah said softly. “Stop. Gavin is just… he cares about Elena too much. That’s why he hates me. I’ll move out tomorrow. I don’t want to break up this family.” It was always the same routine. When I was half-dead, he would call for mercy. When I was locked in the freezer, he would “sneak” me food. When Elena ignored me, he would “accidentally” remind her of my past failures. And every time, I was beaten harder for being ungrateful. My mother stormed over, her manicured finger jabbing the air inches from my face. “He’s still defending you! Gavin, is your heart made of stone?” “We’ve told you a thousand times,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fatigue. “Jonah is a guest. A charity case. Why can’t you just get along?” I looked at her. Before today, I loved her. I loved them all. I used to tell myself they were just puppets controlled by a sadistic author. When Jonah claimed I pushed him into the pool and Elena locked me in the industrial freezer, resulting in severe frostbite and surgery to remove part of my intestine, I didn’t blame her. But the cycle never ended. Jonah escalated. I defended myself. They ignored the truth. I watched Elena dial up the voltage on the stun baton, her eyes colder with every shock. Jonah reached for Elena’s hand, then pulled back as if remembering his place. His eyes welled up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accepted the scholarship. I’ll leave…” 2 “No!” My mother screamed. “Jonah, you aren’t going anywhere! The only one leaving is this monster!” I slowly pushed myself up from the concrete floor. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, urine dripping down my pant leg. Elena looked away. Jonah couldn’t hide the smirk in his eyes. I looked at the corner of the room. There was an old, exposed fuse box from when the house was rewired. The casing was off, copper wires naked and lethal, connected to the old industrial grid. “Okay,” I said. My voice sounded like sandpaper dragged over stone. “My fault.” The room went still. For the first time in a year, I had admitted guilt. Relief washed over my parents. Jonah narrowed his eyes. Elena frowned, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. “I know I was wrong,” I continued, swaying as I stood. “I shouldn’t have been jealous. I shouldn’t have framed him. I shouldn’t be alive.” I summoned every ounce of adrenaline left in my broken body and lunged for the fuse box. “Gavin!” Elena realized it first, panic finally cracking her voice. Too late. My hand closed around the rusted lever. I looked back at them one last time. Elena’s eyes were wide. For the first time, she wasn’t looking through me; she was looking at me—at the filth, the blood, the ruin she had made. I yanked the lever down. ZZZT—! The short circuit was immediate. Sparks showered onto a pile of old drop cloths nearby. The fire moved like a living thing, a hungry snake coiling up my arm, consuming me. The smell of burning meat overpowered the smell of urine. “Ah—!” My mother’s scream pierced the air. “Help him! Do something!” My father roared, but his feet were nailed to the floor. My skin was melting. Fat was rendering. But I held onto the lever. I didn’t let go. As the flames licked my face, I saw Elena. She stood frozen, trembling, her face as white as paper. I woke up in a hospital room. Again. The door opened. Elena walked in first, the click of her heels sharp against the tile. Jonah and my father trailed behind her. “You’re awake? The doctor said you can speak.” Elena looked at me—swathed in bandages like a mummy—with pure annoyance. I didn’t answer. I just watched the ceiling. My father walked to the bedside, his tone softer than usual, but still carrying that lecture-hall cadence. “We’ve decided not to punish you for this stunt. Just recover.” “Don’t be stupid again.” Elena chimed in. “As long as you behave and get along with Jonah, we can go back to how things were.” I forced air through my ravaged throat. “Okay.” Elena looked startled. She searched my eyes for the usual defiance. She glanced at Jonah. Taking the cue, Jonah leaned in and placed a hand on Elena’s chest—intimate, possessive, yet disguised as comfort. Elena didn’t flinch. She let him touch her, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to react. In the past, I would have broken his nose. This time, I turned my head away. “Gavin,” Jonah said, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. “Let’s start over. No more fighting.” He wanted me to snap. I gave him nothing. Elena’s patience evaporated. “What is this attitude? Jonah is talking to you. Are you mute now?” I turned my head back stiffly. The movement tore at the scabs on my neck. Blood seeped through the gauze. I bit down on my tongue. Hard. I clamped my jaw until I felt the muscle sever. I spat the piece of flesh onto the pristine white sheet in front of Elena. Elena screamed, stumbling back in horror. I closed my eyes. 3 “The patient is unstable. No more agitation.” I was wheeled out of surgery. They had reattached my tongue. My parents rushed in. My mother grabbed Elena’s shoulders. “Why is he in the ICU? What happened?” Elena looked at me, the words caught in her throat. “It’s my fault,” Jonah sobbed, wiping tears from his cheeks. “I said something wrong. I upset Gavin, and he… he hurt himself to punish me.” “I should just leave.” He turned to go. Elena grabbed his wrist. “He’s just petty. It has nothing to do with you.” “Gavin,” she hissed at my unconscious form. “I thought you changed. But you just learned new tricks. The pity card? Really?” I stared at her, awake now, unable to smile. “Elena, he almost died,” my mother whispered, teary-eyed. “He wouldn’t go that far just to frame Jonah.” “Mom, this isn’t the first time!” Elena shouted. “Remember the glass in his water? He hates Jonah!” My mother hesitated. Jonah seized the moment, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the bandages from the skin graft. “Don’t yell at Elena, Mrs. Landers. I’ll apologize to Gavin.” Jonah dropped to his knees by my bed. My mother and Elena immediately rushed to pull him up. “Gavin,” my father sighed, heavy with disappointment. “Why do you hate him so much? Why destroy yourself just to hurt him?” I lay there, numb. I just wanted to die. I didn’t want to spend another second in this wretched world. “I had the kitchen make some soup. Your favorite.” Elena walked in with a thermos. She had been coming every day, playing the role of the dutiful wife. Her eyes were calm, her voice soft. For a second, it felt like the old days, before Jonah. She cranked the bed up and sat beside me. “Jonah made this stock for you. Look how much he cares.” “Why can’t you just let go of the prejudice?” The spoon pressed against my lips. Steam hit my face. I smelled the ocean. Clams. Elena kept talking about Jonah’s kindness, preaching forgiveness. She seemed to have forgotten that I was deathly allergic to shellfish. I didn’t refuse. I opened my mouth. Elena smiled, relieved. She fed me, spoonful by spoonful. I felt my throat tighten, my blood vessels dilate. By the time Elena realized I was turning blue, I could no longer breathe. 4 I woke up to blinding white light. Voices argued in the distance. “Elena, I’m so sorry! I forgot Gavin was allergic to seafood!” “I just wanted to make him something rich, to help him heal… I didn’t mean to…” “It was an accident, Jonah. Don’t blame yourself. I should have reminded you.” “Stop crying, Jonah.” A few minutes later, Jonah pushed the door open. Elena and my parents followed. “Gavin, I’m so sorry.” His eyes were red, his voice thick with tears. He cried so hard you’d think I had beaten him. I didn’t react. “Gavin,” Elena sighed, impatient. “It was a mistake. He apologized. Just forgive him.” I opened my eyes heavily. It was comical. Jonah almost killed me, and a simple “oops” was enough. Yet when I once swore at Jonah, they forced me to drink acid because I “needed discipline.” My throat burned. I was curled in agony. But they couldn’t see it. They swarmed around Jonah, comforting him. I rolled my eyes toward him. Every bone in my body ached. Jonah leaned in close, whispering so only I could hear. “Gavin, you’re like a cockroach. You just won’t die.” Looking at his smug face, I summoned the last of my strength and slapped him. It was weak, but it connected. Jonah clutched his face. “If hitting me makes you feel better, Gavin… go ahead.” He leaned his face forward. The next second, my father rushed forward and yanked me off the bed. My healing skin tore open. “You have the energy to hit people? You’re definitely faking it.” I didn’t fight. He dragged me across the floor, leaving a streak of blood. He dragged me to the janitor’s sink in the hallway. He turned on the faucet, grabbed the hose, and aimed it at my face. Ice-cold water blasted into my nose and mouth. I gagged, choking as water filled my lungs. “Still acting? Still framing Jonah?” “I raised a monster!” I coughed, unable to speak. Elena stood there, watching. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, but she didn’t move. Finally, he pulled me out of the sink. “Did you learn your lesson?” I looked at him. And I smiled. Bloody water dripped from the corners of my mouth. His eyes went cold. “Unrepentant.” He shoved my head back into the bloody water. I didn’t struggle. The cold liquid filled me. My body temperature plummeted. This vessel was done. Ding— [Misery Index: 100/100] [Host is cleared for extraction. Initiating Protocol: Hundredfold Reflection.]

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Ever since I was old enough to understand, my billionaire parents and my brother hammered one truth into my head: I was a stray, a placeholder, a counterfeit. If I so much as smiled at my brother, he’d sneer and call me a social climber. When I won a prestigious gold medal for piano, my parents didn’t celebrate; they had the Steinway smashed to pieces. They told me I was “drinking the blood” of their real daughter. The entire family lived in a state of constant vigilance. They were terrified of being kind to me, afraid that an ounce of warmth would whet my appetite and lead me to challenge the “rightful” heiress one day. So, when the real daughter finally returned, I was the one who asked to leave. I told them I wanted to find my biological parents. But they blocked me at every turn. They said that as long as I stayed in my place and kept my head down, I could remain their “daughter” and “sister.” I was stupid enough to believe them. Then came a mock exam. The real daughter failed. She cried, saying she could never be as good as me no matter how hard she tried, and then she staged a dramatic suicide attempt by nicking her wrist. In retaliation, they reported me for “cheating” during the SATs and orchestrated a sequence of events that landed me in a correctional facility. They called it the price for “occupying a throne that wasn’t mine.” To atone, I endured every slander and every cold shoulder in silence. The day I was finally released, they presented me with a “surprise.” It turns out, I was their biological daughter all along. They had kept it a secret because they were afraid their long-lost adopted daughter would feel heartbroken if she realized they had replaced her with a biological child while she was gone. Now that the “older sister” has finally “accepted” me, they’ve come to collect me, smiling and ready for a happy family reunion. 1. The day I walked out, the sky was a bruised gray, and the wind was a serrated blade that cut straight to the bone. The guard handed me a thin, worn-out coat. “Michelle Vance, you’re free. From now on… don’t be stupid.” He looked at my tightly clenched sleeves, his voice dropping an octave. “And tell your family… tell them to get you a therapist.” My eyes were hollow. I nodded, pulling my sleeves down even further to hide what lay beneath. Yes. I had served my time. I had paid my debt. Now, I could go find my real family. I hadn’t walked ten yards when a black Rolls-Royce, hazard lights blinking, pulled up to the curb. The window slid down, revealing a face as familiar as it was striking. Dominic. Sophie’s “loving” older brother. His gaze was exactly as I remembered: cold, clinical, devoid of any warmth. “Michelle. Get in. We’re going home.” I didn’t look at him. I kept walking toward the bus stop. Just as I reached the steps of the bus, a hand clamped onto my shoulder with bruising force. I was yanked back, my spine colliding with the icy metal of the car. Dominic loomed over me, his eyes filled with that familiar, reflexive disdain. “What are you doing? Throwing a tantrum like Sophie used to? Trying to make us feel guilty?” “Did two years in a cell teach you nothing but theatrics?” Ever since I went inside, my brain had felt like rusted clockwork—slow, heavy, grinding. I stared at him blankly, taking a long time to process his words. Finally, I shook my head. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, softened and frayed from being folded and unfolded a thousand times. I smoothed it out for him to see. “No,” I said, my voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on pavement. “Sophie came to see me last time. She told me she found my real parents. Look. The address is right here. I’m going to my actual home.” He froze for a split second. Then, his face darkened into a mask of fury. He snatched the paper from my hands and ripped it into a dozen pieces, tossing them into the roaring traffic of the wet highway. “Stop this madness,” he growled, grabbing my arm. “Mom and Dad are waiting. You’re coming with—” I let out a sharp, strangled scream. I wrenched myself free with a strength I didn’t know I possessed and bolted into the middle of the road. “Home… I have to go home…” I dropped to my knees on the freezing asphalt, frantically clawing at the scraps of white paper as they swirled in the wind. Tires screeched. Horns blared like dying animals. “Jesus! Are you trying to get killed?!” someone yelled from a car window. Dominic’s face was ashen. He lunged forward, shielding me with his body as he shouted apologies to the angry drivers. He practically dragged me back to the shoulder of the road. “Michelle!” His chest was heaving, a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes, but it was quickly eclipsed by his habitual irritation. “If you want to die, do it somewhere I don’t have to watch! Using these cheap tricks for attention… the family really wasted years raising you.” I stared up at him, my mind lagging behind. I tilted my head, looking at him with genuine, quiet confusion. “Then… when Sophie cut her wrists… was she just doing it for attention too?” Dominic went rigid. Every muscle in his jaw locked. For the first time in my life, I saw him flinch. He couldn’t meet my eyes. There it was. Even he knew. “Sophie.” That name had been a crown of thorns around my head for as long as I could remember. I was the fake. I was the parasite. I was the intruder. That was why my mother fired the nanny who served me dessert first. That was why my father smashed my piano. That was why Dominic drowned the stray puppy I had rescued from the rain. They used every choice, every moment, to prove a point: they would never let the “shining pearl” suffer a single slight just because I had been the one physically present in their lives. The scale of their hearts was always tipped in her favor, by design. But I still didn’t get it. If she had all the love, if the world was served to her on a silver platter… Why did she have to bleed just because I beat her on a practice test? Sophie. What on earth were you so afraid of? 2. Dominic rubbed his temples, his frustration radiating off him in waves. “You know Sophie isn’t like you! She grew up out there, suffering. She didn’t even get to finish school properly. You? You were brought into this house and given every resource, every elite tutor!” “You had to be number one every single time? You just had to crush her? You knew it would trigger her!” I didn’t really hear him. I was shivering, trying to piece together the sodden scraps of paper in my hand. Three pieces were missing. “It’s gone…” my voice trembled. “The address… My home is gone!” I started to move toward the road again, desperate. Slap! The blow was so sudden and so sharp that my head snapped to the side. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. Before I could recover, Dominic dragged me toward a stagnant, icy puddle by the side of the road. “You want to die, Michelle?” He let go, pointing at the dark, freezing water. “Then jump! Go on! Stop the performance!” With a violent sweep of his hand, he knocked the remaining scraps of paper from my grip. They fluttered like dying moths into the filthy, slushy water. I looked at him. His eyes were full of that familiar, towering condescension. I remembered Sophie’s first birthday back with us. She cried, saying the pearl necklace Dominic gave her was missing and that she’d seen me in her room. At first, I fought back. “I didn’t take it! Check the security cameras—” Before I could finish, Dominic took a baseball bat and smashed the camera right in front of me. I shut up instantly. He was teaching me a lesson: my truth meant nothing compared to Sophie’s tears. The necklace wasn’t in my room. It was eventually found at the bottom of the backyard pool, the string cut, pearls scattered across the tiles. Everyone in the family knew I had a near-death drowning experience as a child. I had severe aquaphobia. Even a full bathtub made me feel like I was suffocating. But that winter, Dominic had me thrown into the icy pool. “Get them,” he had said. “Every single one. Don’t come out until you find them all.” My parents watched Sophie sob into their shoulders and said nothing. They let it happen. I passed out in that freezing water multiple times. Each time, they’d wake me up with more cold water until my blue, numb fingers had found every last pearl. Since then, even the reflection of light on a water surface made me shake. Dominic knew this. He was certain I was too afraid of water—and too afraid of death—to actually jump. He didn’t know that in prison, when I used a sharpened piece of plastic to open my veins, all I felt was… peace. The ER doctor had told the guards: She has a profound desire for self-destruction. Without a support system, she won’t last. Dominic looked at my empty, hollow eyes and smirked. “Coward. You don’t even have the guts to look at the water. Think about how much Sophie must have suffered to—” He didn’t finish the sentence. I lunged forward and dove headfirst into the stinking, freezing puddle. The water closed over my head, burning my nose and throat. Getting back to my real family was my last hope for living. If I couldn’t have that, I didn’t want anything else. A second later, I was yanked out by the waist and slammed onto the muddy grass. I coughed violently, retching up dirty water. Through the blur, I saw Dominic. He was soaked, kneeling in the mud, his hands still trembling from the force of pulling me out. He was staring at me, his pupils blown wide. The look in his eyes wasn’t disdain anymore. It was disbelief. And… something else. A flicker of raw, unadulterated terror. I didn’t understand. What was he afraid of? If the “fake” died, wasn’t that what he—and everyone else—wanted? 3. I looked at the pulp in my hand—the wet, gray remains of the paper where the ink had bled into illegible clouds. A wave of exhaustion, a soul-deep weariness, washed over me. I was so tired. If I had a knife right now, could I finally just sleep? Dominic watched me, his voice finally losing its edge, turning soft, almost tentative. “Michelle… why? You weren’t like this before. Since when did you start taking my words so literally?” He was right. Since I was a toddler, he’d told me: “Michelle, you’re just a placeholder. Know your place. Sophie is my only sister.” Back then, I’d just smile and ask him for a hug. Later, I’d study until my fingers cramped to make him his favorite snacks, only for him to sneer, “You’re so pathetic, Michelle. Sophie would never beg for affection like this.” I’d still smile and hold the plate out to him. No matter how cruel he was, the little girl I used to be followed him around like a shadow. I was convinced he just had a temper, that he didn’t actually hate me. Until Sophie came back. Then I realized what he looked like when he actually loved someone. When Sophie and I were cornered by some older bullies in high school, he rushed in and pulled her behind him. He didn’t even look at me. Not once. He just walked away with her. His friend had pointed at me, stuck in the mud. “Hey, Dominic… what about the other one?” “She’s not my sister.” I watched them leave. I stayed behind to face the insults and the shoves alone. I struggled to sit up, my brain trying to conjure the ghost of the address on that paper, but the memory was fading. “Michelle, come home. Stop this,” Dominic said. It was that nauseating, self-righteous tone of “comfort” again. “The whole family is waiting. We’re having Christmas dinner.” “Dominic! You aren’t my brother! You have no right to tell me what to do!” I screamed, my voice raw and screeching. “I just want to go to my real home! To my real parents!” I swung my hand and slapped him. Hard. Dominic’s head snapped back. He froze, but his gaze dropped to my wrists. They were covered in a lattice of scars—some old and white, some jagged and fresh. He turned pale. His eyes turned red in an instant. “Michelle… your hands…” his voice shook with a sudden, sharp grief. “Did… did someone hurt you in there? I thought… I thought I paid the guards to look after you…” He looked sad. He looked… hurt. It was absurd. I had finally stopped chasing him, finally stopped calling him brother. What did he have to be sad about? I felt a surge of pure, physical nausea. “Dominic,” I said, my voice like dry ice. “Why are you acting like a martyr now?” He didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm and shoved me into the car, clicking the seatbelt shut with a snap. “We’re going to the hospital first,” he said, his voice tight as he started the engine. “I’m not going to a hospital! I’m going home! Let me out!” I thrashed against the belt, clawing at his collar, my nails leaving long, bloody furrows across his cheek. He didn’t move. He didn’t fight back. He just gripped the steering wheel, jaw set, blood dripping down his face. That silence—that suffocating, unresponsive wall—triggered a memory of the solitary confinement cell. My head began to throb. The last trace of the address vanished from my mind. I went limp. My hands fell to my sides. He glanced at me, misinterpreting my silence. He actually managed a small, pathetic smile. “Michelle… you… you still care about me, don’t you? You stopped.” I smiled back. Then, I lunged across the center console and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it with everything I had. If I can’t go home, let’s just go to hell. SCREECH—!! The tires howled against the pavement. The car lost control, spinning and slamming into the guardrail with a bone-jarring thud. The airbags deployed with a bang. Dominic gasped for air, blood trickling from his forehead, his eyes wide with the terror of a survivor. He turned to see the look on my face. I wasn’t scared. I was disappointed. “Michelle… do you… do you want to die that badly?” I didn’t answer. I just stared at him with dead eyes. He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, a desperate plea. “Fine. Okay. No hospital. We’ll go home, okay? Just… just stay with me.” I lowered my eyes and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible “okay.” Dominic’s shoulders slumped in relief. He thought I was being “good” again. He didn’t know. I just remembered: Sophie knows where my real home is. I was going back to find her. 4. The Blackwood estate was glowing with warmth and festive lights. When we pushed through the front doors, the scent of pine and expensive candles hit me. Sophie was sitting on the sofa in a designer dress, her cheeks flushed with health, leaning into our mother’s side. “Mom, I’m only back for a few days. You didn’t have to make such a fuss,” Sophie chirped. Our father was sitting nearby, patiently peeling shrimp for her, his eyes full of adoration. “The Dean called. He said you won another award. Our Sophie is so talented; of course we have to celebrate.” It was a picture-perfect scene of domestic bliss. Dominic cleared his throat, his jaw tight. “Mom, Dad. I brought Michelle back.” The laughter died instantly. Three pairs of eyes swung toward us. First to me, then to Dominic’s soaked clothes and the bloody scratches on his face. My parents’ brows furrowed in unison. Sophie was the first to stand. She walked toward me, her voice dripping with that “concerned older sister” act she’d perfected. “Michelle, Dominic went out in the snow to get you personally. How could you do this to him?” She sighed, playing the part of the mature one. “You’re college-aged now. Can’t you be a little more sensible? Must you always make the family worry?” My mother’s face hardened. “Michelle, this is unacceptable. Your brother just got over a cold.” My father let out a cold snort. “She was always a troublemaker. Fighting in high school, coming home bruised… I suppose two years with criminals only made it worse—” “Enough.” Dominic’s voice was sharp, cutting through my father’s sentence. He looked at Sophie, his expression unusually stern. “I did this to myself. It wasn’t Michelle.” He paused, then added, “And Sophie? Michelle never went to college. Maybe think before you speak next time.” The room went tomb-silent. They stared at him, shocked. Dominic—the golden son—had never once defended the “fake” sister, let alone snapped at his precious Sophie. Sophie’s eyes filled with tears instantly. Her lip wobbled. “Fine! She’s the sister you grew up with, and I’m just the outsider! I don’t have the right to speak to her! I’m sorry I even came back!” Dominic looked conflicted, his gaze flickering away. My mother rushed to Sophie, pulling her into a protective embrace. “Dominic! How could you speak to her like that?!” Then she turned her venomous gaze on me. “And you, Michelle! You just get back and you’re already upsetting your sister. Why are you so selfish?” I looked at this woman—dripping in diamonds, her face twisted with habitual annoyance toward me—and the word “Mom” died in my throat. She wasn’t my mother. It made sense that she hated me. “Let’s just eat,” my father sighed, trying to break the tension. “Your brother made us wait for hours just for you. Sophie is starving.” I looked up. “Did I ask her to wait?” I didn’t wait for a reply. “Dominic made that choice. It has nothing to do with me.” Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Michelle! Have you lost your mind? How dare you talk to him like that!” “He’s not my brother,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “He’s your brother.” I looked at them all. “I didn’t come here to eat.” I turned to Sophie. “I came to ask for the address. My parents’ address.” “Once I have it, I’m gone. I won’t ruin your family reunion anymore.” The color drained from Sophie’s face. My mother frowned. “What are you talking about? This is your home.” “I mean my real home. My biological parents,” I said, staring Sophie down. “You told me in prison that you found them. You gave me a note. I lost it. Give it to me again. Now.” The air in the living room turned to ice. My parents looked at Sophie, their expressions turning unreadable. Sophie stammered, “Isn’t… isn’t this family good enough? Why do you have to look for—” “I have to!” I was shaking now, my voice rising to a scream. “I want to go home! I want my own parents! Let me go!!” Dominic couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to our parents, his voice exploding with repressed rage. “Just tell her! Tell her the truth! We agreed, didn’t we? We were going to give her the ‘surprise’ when she got out!” I looked at him, confused. He wouldn’t look back. As the eldest son, Dominic held weight in this house. My parents exchanged a look. Finally, my mother sighed. She looked at me, her voice suddenly forced, sweet, like she was talking to a frightened animal. “Michelle… sweetheart. The truth is… you are our biological daughter.”

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1 When the car crash happened, my CEO brother and my movie-star fiancé instinctively shielded the sweet, innocent ingénue, Mia. I was sent flying hundreds of feet. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day before my debut press conference. In my past life, all I did was step a little closer to my fiancé, Liam. He immediately stepped back to avoid any association, publicly mocking me for trying to ride his coattails. My brother looked down on me too, claiming I relied on our family’s capital and wasn’t worthy to compete with Mia, who had no backing. But now, they stood flanking Mia, left and right, propping her up. Backed by the CEO and partnered with a top actor, she became an overnight sensation. I was completely done. I bought a plane ticket and went abroad to start a new life. Three years later, Mia had swept all the major acting awards. At the awards ceremony, I happened to be seated next to Liam. He mocked me: “Even though you lost me, you shouldn’t just let yourself go. No man will ever look at you now.” My brother also looked at me and shook his head. “You left with such pride, but didn’t you still have to come crawling back to beg me in the end?” But when I walked onto the stage to give a speech as the wife of the event organizer, both of them panicked. … “Mia is only twenty-one, and she’s already swept the top three acting awards. She’s the first person in the entertainment industry to do that. Her future is boundless.” “I heard she’s getting engaged to the movie star, Liam. They’re both so beautiful; it’s a match made in heaven!” “Don’t be so sure! The CEO of the Vance Group, Ethan Vance, chartered every helicopter in the city and is preparing to give Mia the proposal of the century! It’s still up in the air who she’ll choose!” The interior of the awards ceremony was buzzing with voices. Just as I found my seat, I turned and saw the cold, aloof, and arrogant Liam. He was a bit surprised to see me take the seat next to him, but that surprise quickly morphed into undisguised disgust. “Don’t sit here.” I was a little confused and asked: “Why?” Liam tilted his arrogant chin up, his impatience peaking. “I’m going to propose to Mia today. If you sit next to me, I’m afraid she might get the wrong idea.” “Why did you have to come back right at this exact time?” I looked down at the invitation card in my hand, but before I could speak, a reporter beside me interrupted. “Mr. Sterling, there are rumors that you’re going to propose to Ms. Mia today. Is it true? Can you give us a hint?” The swarm of reporters completely blocked me from view. Liam’s voice sounded somewhat playful. “It’s a secret.” Those two words were more suggestive than a direct confirmation, and the reporters immediately went into a frenzy. But amidst the excitement, a few sharp-eyed reporters began to study me. A young girl wearing a red hat blurted out: “Isn’t this the Vance family heiress who used to obsess over Liam? I heard she insisted on debuting just to chase him and spent a fortune to co-star with him. Then she suddenly disappeared. Why did she show up today of all days?” “Could it be she knew Liam was going to propose today and hasn’t given up? Is she still trying to win him back?” As soon as she finished speaking, all the cameras and eyes focused on me. Facing the dark lenses of the cameras, I just smiled faintly and waved my hand. “You’ve got it all wrong. I have nothing to do with what you’re talking about. I was just invited to attend the event.” Liam scoffed coldly beside me. “Stop pretending. You specifically arranged to sit next to me. Everyone knows exactly what you’re plotting.” He turned to look at me, his voice stern. “I’m warning you one last time. If you dare do anything to hurt Mia, I absolutely will not go easy on you again.” Gasps erupted from the crowd. Liam’s words were entirely captured by the cameras. The reporter in the red hat sounded thrilled. “The movie star aggressively protecting his woman! This is huge news! I’m totally shipping them!” Before I could retort, my hand was grabbed viciously. “Chloe Vance, who told you to come here?” 2 The familiar voice belonged to my older half-brother, Ethan Vance. He gripped my hand tightly, his face dark with anger. “This is not a place for you to make a scene. Come with me!” A sharp pain shot through my wrist, and I instinctively struggled. “I’m here for official business, let go of me!” My resistance only angered Ethan more: “Do you think I don’t know what you’re planning? I warned you a long time ago, you can’t buy love with money! Are you really going to keep making the same mistake? Stop embarrassing the Vance family!” He didn’t care at all that the strapless top of my mini dress was being pulled to the point of near-exposure, nor did he care about the countless cameras eagerly documenting every second. “I let you throw your tantrums before, but not today.” “This honor is something Mia earned through immense hard work. I will not allow anyone to ruin it. Chloe, be reasonable. Stop this nonsense, okay?” Meeting his bloodshot eyes, a dull ache tightened my chest. He was supposed to be my brother, yet he was completely disregarding my dignity, humiliating me in public like this. All for his beloved Mia! On the other side, Liam stood with his hands in his pockets, watching me like a spectator enjoying a show. “Why put yourself through this? No matter how pitiful you act, I still won’t like you.” “Just because you can’t have my love doesn’t mean you should give up on yourself. Making a scene like this in public… no man will ever look at you again.” My dress was already pulled dangerously low, but my brother still refused to let go. Hearing Liam’s words seemed to embolden him further. “If you don’t want to be completely humiliated, leave right now.” I could only hold my collar tightly and argue with all my might: “I am a specially invited guest, here as the family member of the event organizer. Neither of you has the right to kick me out!” As soon as I said that, everyone froze for a moment. “Family member of the organizer? The organizer of this ceremony is the legendary tycoon from the capital, Alexander Price! His international trade business spans the globe, and his assets are immeasurable. He is a truly powerful figure.” “But I heard Mr. Price is an orphan without any relatives. Could she be… his wife?” The reporter in the red hat widened her eyes in gossip-fueled shock. Ethan, who was still pulling on me, froze. Before he could react, Liam, who had been enjoying the show, suddenly stood up, walked over, and looked down at me. He frowned, a trace of inexplicable anger in his voice: “Chloe, what do you mean by that?” “Have you been messing around with other men during the few years you’ve been away from me?” His tone carried an inexplicable, incredibly ironic jealousy. In my past life, I entered the entertainment industry without hesitation just for him, fighting tooth and nail just to catch up to him. When his investments resulted in massive losses, I sold the shares my parents left me and gave everything I had to help him. Because of that, he accepted my confession and we got engaged. I originally thought my genuine devotion had moved him, but it turned out he just wanted my money to finance a movie for Mia! A ten-million-dollar mega-production tailored specifically for Mia. When I found out, he just confidently told me: “She has potential; she just lacks an opportunity. Someone like you, born with silver-spoon connections, could never understand the struggles of a small actor. I have to help her.” I cried to my brother about my pain, failing to notice his face turning green with jealousy. It turned out Mia was a student he had personally sponsored. Because of her stunning looks, my brother had pulled strings to get her into film school. Listening to my complaints, his only concern was that the woman he loved was going to be stolen from him. He advised me: “No matter what happens between you and Liam, do not let it affect Mia.” Furious, I confronted Mia, demanding she stay away from my fiancé. I never expected her to cry, slap herself, claim she was sorry, and say she wanted to atone for her sins, all while running out into the street. My brother and Liam quickly chased after her, and I followed them. Mia ran onto the road. When the accident happened, my brother and Liam instantly shielded her with their bodies. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night before my debut. My brother had immediately notified the staff, changing what was supposed to be my debut press conference into Mia’s. Liam also attended dressed to the nines, just to support Mia. They both felt they owed Mia in our past life and decided to overcompensate her in this one. My heart turned to ash, and I decided to go abroad alone. The night I left home, my brother just thought I was throwing a tantrum, playing the runaway game. He dismissed me entirely, mocking: “The outside world isn’t as gentle as you think. I’ve spoiled you too much; you’re too naive. It’s time you go out and experience some real hardship.” “Only then will you understand how difficult things were for Mia before, and you won’t always try to target her.” That departure lasted for three years. Until today, when I returned as an invited guest, only to run into them. I never expected our reunion to be such an ugly scene. 3 “Liam, Ethan, you’re both here. I feel so much safer with you two.” “This event is so huge, it’s a little overwhelming. I hope I don’t mess up later. Come give me strength!” Wearing a long, trailing black evening gown, Mia still retained a girlish playfulness. She extended her hands, making a “cheer up” gesture toward the two men. Both men’s eyes lit up instantly. Liam, who had just been interrogating me, quickly distanced himself and his voice softened. “You’re already a Best Actress winner, and you still get nervous? Don’t worry, whatever happens, I’m here.” He reached out and placed his hand over Mia’s. “Ethan, what are you spacing out for? Come here!” Called out by name, my brother’s face flushed with an unnatural red, and he stammered. “I’m… I’m here.” The way he looked at Mia was full of undisguised admiration. I remembered in my past life, when I saw he saved Mia’s contact as “Little Flower,” I didn’t understand and asked why he used such a cheesy nickname. He just chuckled and didn’t say anything. But now I understand. Mia was the flower he had carefully nurtured. He watched her grow, bloom, and shine, becoming a dazzling star. His gaze upon her was too blinding; I couldn’t help but look away. Mia seemed not to have noticed me yet. After finishing her little cheer, she kept talking: “Just now backstage, I accidentally twisted my ankle. Thank goodness someone caught me.” She deliberately turned her delicate profile toward the reporters’ cameras. “After thanking him, I found out he was the mysterious investor, Alexander Price from the capital! He even told me… he said I was the first leading lady of his banquet tonight.” She lowered her head shyly, her smile picturesque, drawing a wave of cheers from the crowd. “As expected of our superstar, easily capturing the attention of a capital tycoon! It seems another man is about to fall head over heels for Mia! Now the movie star and the CEO should be worried!” “Exactly! If Mr. Price enters the competition, he’ll effortlessly crush the other two! After all, it’s an international enterprise based in the capital! The scale is much larger than the Vance Group. If Mr. Price makes a move, the entire entertainment industry will tremble.” The onlookers whispered among themselves, while the two men present looked increasingly grim. “Mia, did he do anything else to you? You must keep your eyes open and recognize who truly treats you best.” Liam couldn’t wait to intervene. My brother, Ethan, however, watched lonely from a distance. “I only wish for your happiness.” Leaving that sentence behind, he turned as if to leave. Mia’s eyes fluttered, and she coyly waved her hands. “What are you saying?! You’re all exaggerating! He just helped me with a small favor, how could he randomly fall in love with me?” As she spoke, her gaze suddenly cut through the crowd and landed squarely on me. “It’s just that I heard someone spreading rumors about Mr. Price. He helped me, so I must repay him somehow.” “After all, someone of Mr. Price’s status isn’t someone any random stray cat or dog can latch onto. Chloe, wouldn’t you agree?” 4 Mia strutted over to me triumphantly, the crowd’s cameras following her every step. “Long time no see, Chloe. Ever since you ran away from home three years ago, I’ve been so worried about you. I blamed myself so much. If Liam hadn’t fallen in love with me and broken your heart, you wouldn’t have left without a word. That’s why, for all this time, I never dared accept either of their proposals.” “But it’s fine now. I heard you have a new lover, so I can finally put my mind at ease.” She gave me a playful wink, and a business card slipped from her dress and fell to the floor. She deliberately bent down to pick it up, perfectly displaying the contents of the card. It was Alexander Price’s business card. She looked at the cameras, offering an apologetic smile. “Just now, Mr. Price specifically reminded me to contact him when I have free time to discuss a collaboration.” “Oh, right, Chloe, who did you say you were here as a family member for?” All eyes converged on me, and the crowd suddenly erupted in laughter. “I didn’t expect the slap in the face to come this fast. This woman wanted to act like a big shot, but ended up making a huge fool of herself. Hilarious.” “Exactly! Unless Mr. Price is blind, he’d never look twice at her. How does she compare to our Mia in any way?” “You guys are laughing at the poser, but I’m just feeling bad for Liam and CEO Vance. Having such a powerful rival suddenly appear, I can’t even imagine how devastated they must be!” Meeting Mia’s provocative gaze, I slowly spoke up. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear earlier. I am an invited guest, attending this banquet as the family member of the organizer.” I stared fearlessly into her eyes, and she let out a scoff of disbelief. “Chloe, watch what you say. Tonight’s organizer isn’t some ordinary person you can just claim to be related to.” Liam also stepped forward, looking at me with disgust. “Chloe, I told you long ago, I hate liars the most! Did you think pretending not to care would make me look at you differently? It only makes me despise you more!” My brother, Ethan, tried to persuade me with a look of exasperation: “If you don’t want the Vance family to completely lose face, please just leave right now.” I ignored their mockery and disdain, calmly taking my designated seat. Soon, staff members stepped forward to disperse the crowd. The awards ceremony was about to begin. The host took the stage, and after introducing tonight’s guests, suddenly changed his tone. “Tonight’s awards ceremony features a visit from a very mysterious guest.” In the audience, those in the know had already started cheering. “I believe many of you already know this news. He is our organizer tonight, the tycoon who has never appeared in public, Alexander Price!” Screams almost tore through the venue; everyone was intensely curious about this mysterious tycoon. The host’s tone suddenly shifted again. “However, our Mr. Price has a very peculiar temper. No matter how much I pleaded, he refused to come out.” “When I asked why, I found out that Mr. Price can only be invited out by the future Mrs. Price.” As the host playfully hyped the crowd, an inexplicable chant erupted from the audience. “Mia! Mia!” Soon, many others joined in. “Mr. Price’s unique way of confessing is so romantic!” “Isn’t our Mia the future Mrs. Price?! Love at first sight is so cute!” “Mia! Mia!” The deafening cheers drowned out the host, and no one noticed his slightly awkward expression. “Please, everyone, calm down for a moment!” The host flipped the cue card over and over in his hands, as if repeatedly confirming it. Finally, with a hint of hesitation, he continued. “Next, please welcome the future Mrs. Price, Ms. Chloe Vance, to the stage to give a speech.”

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During a live New Year’s Eve broadcast, my sister called me. I spoke first: “May you have peace and joy, and live a long, long life.” My sister scoffed: “But I don’t want you to have joy or a long life at all. “I wish you would suffer for the rest of your life.” I had cut ties with my sister during the year she was at her absolute lowest. Now that she was successful and famous, the very first thing she did was seek revenge against me. My tone remained unchanged: “May you have peace and joy, and live a long, long life.” My sister grew impatient: “Enough. I will never wish you well. “If I have to, then I wish you an eternity of pain.” The host hesitated for a moment before finally reminding her: “Ms. Sterling… that was just a recording of Mr. Sterling’s voice. “And when he passed away… it was indeed, as you wished, very painful.” 1 “Passed away?” Chloe Sterling froze, then let out a cold laugh: “I hope you mean he died.” The host paused, then pointed behind her. On the massive screen behind her, my face appeared. In the video, I slapped the camera lens. The rain plastered my hair and shirt tightly against my skin. I looked utterly miserable. My tone was filled with pure exhaustion and impatience: “Stop filming. I said no.” Immediately after, a sweet, incredibly sincere voice replied: “I’m really not a scammer. I’m a vlogger who specifically documents the real struggles of everyday people. I can help you.” I turned away from the dumpster I was digging through and shoved my face right up to the lens: “Really? Can you cure my cancer?” The girl froze. I smirked bitterly: “Don’t waste your energy. Go find someone else.” “Um… I can try!” She grabbed my arm as I tried to walk away. I looked her up and down. I let out a laugh, pointing out her T-shirt, belt, pants, and shoes one by one: “Twenty bucks. Sixty. Forty. Fifty. “Oh, and this camera… you bought it secondhand, right? “Do you have any idea how much my treatment costs?” I held up five fingers to the camera: “Half a million.” The girl’s breath hitched. Smiling, I turned and walked back into the rain, bending down in front of each trash can: “Shadow? Shadow, where are you?” She followed me: “What are you looking for?” “A dog.” “Is it yours?” “No. When the pain made me pass out earlier, he licked me awake.” The girl didn’t say anything. I looked up: “If you don’t have anything else to do, don’t just stand there. There are plenty of people in this world you can actually help. Don’t waste your time on me.” I covered the camera lens with my hand. The screen went black. 2 [The Next Life — October 11, 2023, 9:32 AM — The Sterlings Never Need Anyone’s Pity] “You’re Liam Sterling, Chloe Sterling’s younger brother, right?” I was sweeping the floor in the back kitchen of a coffee shop. Hearing that, I frowned: “Why are you here again?” The girl’s voice came from behind the camera: “Everyone online is calling you a treacherous, ungrateful backstabber. But they don’t know you have cancer. I want to shoot a documentary series about you, can I?” I shook my head: “Let them call me a backstabber. I worked so hard to build that persona, are you trying to ruin it for me?” “Wait!” She frantically grabbed my arm: “But you’re completely broke right now! Where are you going to get the money for your medical bills? Let me help you. I have some savings.” I turned my head and smiled: “Why do you think I cut ties with my sister?” She paused. I pulled my arm free and waved her off: “I have a job. I don’t need your help. Just leave.” “I asked around. You only make two thousand dollars a month here.” “I still don’t need it.” I turned my back to her, glancing over my shoulder with a smile: “The Sterlings never need anyone’s pity.” The moment the words left my mouth, I suddenly collapsed to my knees. “Mr. Sterling!” The camera shook violently. On the floor was a massive pool of blood. “You…!” Sarah’s voice was trembling. The camera was tossed aside as a slender girl rushed over to support me: “Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital!” I raised a hand and pushed her away. I grabbed a rag, wiped the floor, and used the back of my hand to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth: “No need.” Then I walked over to the sink and washed the blood off my face. Sarah’s voice quivered: “Please, just let me help you, okay?” I cleaned off the last trace of blood, turned around, and looked at her seriously: “The Sterlings… never need anyone’s help.” With that, I walked out of the camera’s frame. 3 [The Next Life — November 15, 2023, 3:21 PM — A Puppy Doesn’t Know He’s Dying; He Only Rejoices That He Has a Home] “What do you mean?” Inside the veterinary clinic, I stared at the vet in absolute shock. The vet sighed and shook his head: “I’m guessing the original owner abandoned him because they saw he wasn’t going to make it. “This little guy has been starving every day, getting bullied by other stray dogs… he’s already…” I offered a weak smile: “I know. You’re going to say he doesn’t have much time left, right?” The vet hesitated for a second, then nodded. It was the exact same reaction my attending oncologist had. Sarah frowned: “Is there really nothing we can do?” “…Just make him comfortable. Give him whatever he wants to eat.” The room fell into silence. I petted Shadow’s head: “No wonder we found each other.” Shadow’s tail was wagging a mile a minute. He kept rubbing against me, tongue lolling out, looking at me with bright, dark eyes. Sarah smiled bitterly: “He thinks you’re his owner.” I froze for a second: “Is that really something to be happy about?” Sarah nodded, petting the dog’s head: “A puppy doesn’t know he’s dying. He only knows he finally has a home again.” I was silent for a moment. I patted the dog’s head: “Then I’ll call you Shadow.” Shadow let out a happy “Woof!” Carrying Shadow out of the clinic, I turned and faced the camera: “You found Shadow and brought him to me. In return, I agree to let you shoot your documentary series about me.” 4 [The Next Life — December 31, 2023, 9:00 PM — Then I Wish You a Long, Long Life · Part 1] “Where did you get this stuff?” I looked at the old VHS tapes Sarah had brought over, frowning deeply. She shook the tapes and smiled: “A good vlogger has to fully understand her subject.” Saying that, she popped a tape into the VCR. On the ancient TV left behind by the previous tenant, a young boy wearing a custom-tailored suit appeared, bending down to look into the lens. Back then, my eyes still sparkled with hope: “Hello, hello! Happy New Year 2015! I wish everyone peace and joy, and may all your dreams come true!” “You were so lively back then.” Sarah sat next to me, watching the video with a smile in her eyes. I leaned back on the ratty sofa in my cheap apartment: “Did you literally dig through every single video on all my social media accounts?” “I thought it was interesting, so I brought them over to watch.” I didn’t say anything. I just watched my past self sitting amidst a mountain of presents. A familiar voice rang out: “Don’t rush, Sister will help you open them.” Chloe walked into the frame and sat down next to me. I held up a hand in a “Stop!” gesture: “Don’t! Sis. The Sterlings are fiercely independent!” The camera angle shifted. My sister fastened a watch around my wrist: “Happy New Year, Liam.” With a click!, the video captured my massive, beaming smile. Then came the sound of chaotic laughter. I had smeared a bit of frosting on my sister’s face. She froze for a second, then raised her hand with a laugh: “Stop right there! Don’t think just because it’s your birthday I won’t smack you!” The video was filled with my joyous laughter. Outside the video, I suddenly burst into laughter too. I wiped the corner of my eye, my sigh carrying a slight tremble: “After Mom and Dad died, everyone thought I was so pitiful. “But… actually, I wasn’t pitiful at all. “I still had my sister, and my friends…” The freezing wind howled through the drafty apartment. I wrapped my blanket tighter around myself as tears fell silently. My red, freezing hands were suddenly enveloped by two small, warm hands. Sarah looked at me earnestly: “I’ve saved up some money. Tomorrow, let’s go to the hospital and start your treatment.” I sniffled and let out a laugh: “Your account doesn’t even have a hundred followers yet, and you eat instant ramen with me every single day. How much money could you possibly have?” Her pale hands clenched tightly against her faded jeans: “It’s enough… to help a little.” “No need. I have good news for you. I saved up two thousand dollars. I can afford one chemo session now.” Sarah froze. Then she started smiling: “Is it enough? Let me give you a little more.” I shook my head stubbornly: “No. The Sterlings never need anyone’s help.” I lifted my chin proudly: “Don’t worry, my current income can cover my medication. Look, I bought all these with my salary.” Saying that, I grabbed a handful of colorful pills, tossed my head back, and swallowed them all at once. Then, frowning, I sat in silence for a long time before finally rubbing my chest and letting out a long breath. When I looked up, Sarah was watching me, the corners of her eyes a little red. I laughed: “Swallowing a whole handful of pills in one gulp… pretty impressive, right?” Sarah lowered her eyes, her smile laced with deep bitterness: “Yeah.” 5 [The Next Life — December 31, 2023, 11:45 PM — Then I Wish You a Long, Long Life · Part 2] In the video, the two of us, having finished a modest meal, leaned against the sofa waiting for the New Year’s bell. Sarah looked at me: “Are you sure that’s all you’re going to eat?” I sounded exhausted: “My stomach hurts. If I eat any more, I’ll throw up.” Sarah was silent for a moment before finally speaking up: “Ms. Sterling… she succeeded. Her new project just broke a hundred million in revenue.” I kept my eyes closed: “I know.” “Go back to her. She’ll pay for your treatment.” I shook my head. “Why? Do you want to just die like this?” “Did you think that when I cut ties with her, I still had any illusions about surviving?” Sarah choked on her words. Then, she asked with a slight tremble in her voice: “Why did you cut ties with her? Wouldn’t it have been better to face this together?” I started laughing: “Since we were little, Mom and Dad always said that Sterling children never needed anyone’s help. But the Sterling family helped a whole bunch of relatives. “But… when my sister went bankrupt, not a single one of those people was willing to help. “Do you know how it felt? Watching my sister swallow her pride, begging those relatives to just help pay my tuition?” My breath shuddered, and I gritted my teeth: “My sister never begged anyone for anything. After being rejected by all those relatives, she took me and found a tiny, twenty-square-foot apartment, about the same size as this one. “She told me that even if it was just her, she would get us back to the life we had before. “That’s the sister I admired. Even when she had absolutely nothing, she never lost her ambition or her pride. “But…” I started laughing again, looking at Sarah: “Guess what she would do if she knew I was sick?” Sarah looked at me, speechless. “She would get on her knees and beg those relatives.” As I said those words, my very heart was trembling: “Actually… just to get my tuition money, she almost got on her knees. Thank god I stopped her… haha…” I wiped away the tear stains at the corners of my eyes: “Before I left, the business she started with her partner was just starting to take off. “Guess whether her partner would have still been willing to invest if they found out there was a terminal medical burden in her family?” Sarah’s voice trembled: “Liam…” I held up a hand to stop her: “Cancer will take my life. But half a million dollars… that would take her life.” Sarah clenched her fists. I smiled and sighed: “The day I left, I completely destroyed her with the most vicious words I could think of. “In the end, she grabbed my arm, crying and begging me. She said things would get better soon, that she would definitely get us back to our old life. Seeing how glamorous and successful she is now, you probably can’t even imagine how pathetic and desperate she looked back then… haha…” Sarah asked quietly: “How did she finally let you go?” I thought back: “I told her she was a failure. That her past success was only because of Mom and Dad. “I told her that acting so pathetic now was dragging Mom and Dad’s reputation through the mud. I told her that if she cared about me even a little bit, she would let me go find my own happiness. “And then… she slowly let go of me.” The New Year’s bell rang. Fireworks exploded outside the window. I raised a hand and wiped the tears from my face. 6 [The Next Life — January 1, 2024, 0:00 AM — Then I Wish You a Long, Long Life · Part 3] Sarah turned to look out the window: “Happy New Year.” “Thank you.” “Aren’t you going to wish me well?” I looked up: “You’re asking a dying man for a blessing?” She gently placed her hand over my bony, emaciated one: “Please.” I looked at the warm, golden fireworks outside the window. It felt like I was bathed in hope. I smiled: “Then I wish you a long, long life.” The hand resting on mine clenched tightly, trembling slightly. Sarah stared out the window. I couldn’t see her expression. The camera quickly cut, showing that we had both gone to sleep. But in the darkness, my figure slowly appeared. I leaned in close to the camera, frowning: “Why did you forget to turn the camera off?” I raised a hand to turn it off, but paused. After thinking for a second, I dragged a chair over and sat in front of the lens, adjusting the angle left and right, doubt in my eyes: “Will anyone actually ever see this video?” More fireworks exploded outside, the warm, yellow light illuminating my face. I took a deep breath and smiled gently at the camera: “If anyone does see this, then… I wish everyone peace and joy, and a long, long life.” With that, I waved at the camera and hit the stop button.

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I was the glitch in a family of masterpieces. My parents and sister treated my existence like a long-running inside joke. My mother called me her “little eyesore,” and my sister once suggested I start a TikTok channel dedicated to “ugly-girl transformations,” minus the transformation part. Even the relatives couldn’t help themselves during the holidays: “Are you sure she’s yours, Robert? She doesn’t have a single one of your features.” For twenty-three years, I played the part of the family clown because it was easier than being the family disappointment. I worked three jobs, saved every cent, and finally scraped together twenty thousand dollars for the corrective jaw surgery and orthodontics I’d needed since middle school. I went to the clinic to finalize the surgery date, my heart light for the first time in my life. But the receptionist looked at me with a mix of pity and exhaustion. “Ms. Miller, your mother came in this morning. She caused such a scene we couldn’t even open the doors for two hours.” I froze, the blood draining from my face. “She demanded a refund on the grounds that you’re a minor—which we told her you aren’t—but then she started screaming about malpractice and ‘scamming a girl who’s beyond help.’ To get her to leave, the manager processed the refund. The twenty thousand is back in her account.” I called her, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My mother’s voice was breezy, as if she were discussing the weather. “Oh, Casey, let’s be real. No surgeon can fix what nature messed up. That money was better spent on something that actually appreciates in value. Your sister needed a new bag for her firm’s gala—something that actually matches her face.” The call ended. My reflection stared back at me from the darkened phone screen. The harsh truth finally sank in: in this family, if you weren’t beautiful, you weren’t a daughter. You were just an expense. 1. “Look, Casey, your mom was a nightmare. We just couldn’t handle it,” the receptionist said, her eyes darting away. She looked at me like I was a contagion she might catch if she stayed too close. I couldn’t even process the words. My vision blurred, and the first tear hit the counter with a quiet thud. “Please, don’t start crying here,” she whispered, her voice sharpening with disdain. “She already chased off three of our high-end clients this morning, yelling about how ‘ugly people shouldn’t bother trying.’ We’re the ones who should be crying over lost commissions.” She took two steps back, a clear gesture of social distancing from my misery. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her that it was my money, my sweat, my blood. But my parents’ voices, echoes from a thousand childhood dinners, choked me: “Stop making those faces, Casey. When you cry, you look even more hideous.” The shame was a physical weight, dragging my shoulders down. I didn’t fight. I just turned and fled. On the Uber ride home, I opened Instagram. My sister, Madeline, had posted a new photo. Heart-shaped face, doe eyes, skin like filtered silk. She was radiant, the kind of beauty that made the vintage Chanel bag on her arm look like a mere accessory. She was sandwiched between Mom and Dad, all three of them beaming. The caption read: “Twin-check! Can you even tell who’s the mom and who’s the daughter? #FamilyGenes #GalaReady” The comments were a sea of fire emojis and heart-eyes. “God really has favorites,” one read. “That bone structure is elite.” Then, I saw Madeline’s reply to a friend who asked if there were any more of them at home: “You wouldn’t say that if you met my sister. We have one little genetic glitch in the basement! ~” She had attached a “throwback” photo of us from last Christmas. She had her arm around my neck, pulling me into the frame. I looked trapped. My skin was sallow, my jaw was noticeably misaligned—a pronounced underbite—and my eyes were puffed from a secret cry in the bathroom. Standing next to Madeline, I didn’t just look plain. I looked like a cautionary tale. In a family of high bridges and wide eyes, I was the anomaly. Every time we went out, strangers would stop my mother to gush over Madeline. “She’s a doll! She took the best of both of you.” Then their eyes would slide to me, and the smile would falter into a confused, polite grimace. “And… is this the younger one?” My parents’ faces would drop. My dad would let out a dry, forced chuckle. “Yeah, this one? We don’t know who she took after. If I hadn’t been in the delivery room, I’d swear there was a mix-up at the hospital. We just call her the ‘Little Eyesore.’” As a child, I didn’t understand the concept of aesthetics. I just knew that I was the only one kept out of the light. “Don’t eat that, Casey. You’re already an eyesore; being fat will just make it a tragedy.” “You want to take ballet with Madeline? You’d look like a toad hopping around. Let’s not embarrass ourselves.” “That pink dress looks garish on you. Keep it for the house. Don’t go outside and shame me.” They said these things with a smile, like they were doing me a favor by being “honest.” When I was fifteen, I saved up my allowance to buy some drugstore makeup. Madeline caught me trying to cover my acne and contour my jawline. She took photos of me mid-blend, laughing until she cried. “Look at you! You look like a clown in a horror movie. It actually makes it worse!” My mom walked in and swiped the products off the vanity, throwing them into the trash. “Focus on your grades, Casey. You don’t have the face for vanity. Next month’s allowance is cancelled since you want to waste it on trash.” Belittlement, insults, mockery… I had lived in that cold shadow for twenty years. I had worked myself to the bone to save for this surgery, thinking I could finally start my real life. The Uber pulled up to our driveway. I was still crying, but the sorrow was being overtaken by a white-hot, jagged rage. I marched toward the front door, ready to demand my life back. But as I reached the door, I heard laughter coming from the living room. “You guys won’t believe it,” my mother’s voice rang out, bright and amused. “Our little eyesore actually thought she could ‘fix’ herself. She’s been hoarding money for plastic surgery!” 2. The living room was full of people. A few aunts and cousins had stopped by for a pre-holiday drink. My mother was leaning back, wine glass in one hand, gesturing dramatically with the other. “The poor thing. I told her, ‘Honey, even a master sculptor couldn’t find a jawline in that mess.’ Thank God I caught it before she threw twenty thousand dollars down the drain!” An aunt chimed in, “I always wondered why she was being so stingy lately. To think, surgery! It’s so dangerous, moving bones around. She’s already… well, plain. Imagine if they messed up and her face stayed paralyzed? It would be a disaster.” Another aunt, Sarah, tried to play the diplomat. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Oh, come on, Diana. Casey isn’t… I mean, she’s very… hardworking. She has a very ‘salt of the earth’ look. The kind of girl who’s built for a long, quiet marriage.” The room went silent. Aunt Sarah looked down at her drink, sensing she’d failed to find a genuine compliment. Then, my parents and the other relatives exchanged looks and burst into laughter. “‘Salt of the earth’!” my mom wheezed, slapping her knee. “That’s one way to put it! She’s always been our little comedy act.” I stood in the doorway, the air in my lungs turning to ice. My blood felt like it was rushing backward, pounding against my skull. This was the family ritual. Madeline was the trophy to be polished; I was the punchline to be shared. “How are you so different from the rest of them? Were you a changeling?” the relatives would ask me every Thanksgiving. And my mom would lean in, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Don’t tease her, she knows. She knows she’s the ‘special’ one. She tries so hard, though. Last week she tried to style her hair like Madeline’s. It was like putting a tiara on a gargoyle.” Every year, my pain was served as an appetizer. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped into the room, my voice a raw, jagged edge. “What gives you the right? That was my money. Give it back to me!” Every head turned. The silence was deafening. I felt exposed, like they were stripping me bare with their judgment. The old, familiar inferiority began to coil around my throat, choking me. “Oh, look at that,” my mother said, her smile not wavering. “Our little eyesore is growing a backbone. Don’t be so sensitive, Casey. We’re just talking.” The aunts crowded around me, their eyes sparkling with that fake, performative concern. “So, what were you going to get done, honey? Tell us. You can’t just go doing these things in secret. You’ll get scammed without us to look out for you.” Madeline came down the stairs then, humming a tune. She saw the scene and smirked. “She wanted to get her jaw broken and reset. She thinks if her teeth are straight, she’ll suddenly be a Hadid.” “Surgery for your teeth?” one cousin asked. “But Casey, your teeth are… fine. They’re functional. Your sister, now, she had that slight overlap when she was ten—remember, Diana? You spent a fortune on those specialized Swedish braces. Good thing you did, look at her now.” The conversation immediately pivoted back to Madeline. They circled her like she was a holy relic, praising her smile, her skin, her “perfect” recovery from a minor childhood flaw. I stood there, tears streaming down my face. My voice was a hoarse whisper. “The doctor said… he said my underbite could have been fixed with a simple retainer when I was seven. It would have cost almost nothing back then.” But you never looked at me. You never cared. When Madeline’s teeth were even a fraction of a millimeter out of alignment, it was a family emergency. Countless specialist visits, thousands of dollars. But with me, they just watched as my face grew lopsided, my jaw protruding more every year. They didn’t feel pity. They didn’t feel guilt. They just felt amused. “You’re getting weirder looking every year, Casey.” “Little Eyesore, that nickname really fits you more and more, doesn’t it?” 3. The years of accumulated bitterness finally overflowed. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming. The relatives started to look uncomfortable. They shifted in their seats, offering half-hearted, patronizing comforts. “Oh, Casey, you’re not ugly. You’re… unique. Don’t cry. It makes your face all blotchy.” They nudged each other, their eyes full of that cruel, “can you believe this drama?” sparkle. My mother’s patience snapped. She let out a sharp tsk. “What is this performance? Who are you trying to impress with these theatrics? It’s the holidays, for God’s sake. Don’t be embarrassing.” “Why?” I sobbed, my ability to think rationally gone. I just needed to bleed the pain out. “Why do you always call me that? Why have you spent my whole life making sure I knew I was the ‘ugly’ one?” My mom actually laughed. She looked at my dad, then back at me. “Are you serious? Look in a mirror, Casey. Have you no self-awareness? Madeline, go get a mirror. Let’s let her stand next to you and see if she still has questions.” She didn’t stop. She kept twisting the knife. “Look, we’re just being honest. We’re trying to give you a sense of reality so you don’t go out there making a fool of yourself. Look at what you’re wearing—that sweater makes you look lumpy. When you’re… aesthetically challenged… you have to work harder at your style, not just give up. People will laugh at you.” I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My chest was a hollowed-out cavern. “Yes,” I choked out. “I hate you. I hate both of you.” I hate the casual way you crushed me. Since I was a toddler, they treated Madeline like a porcelain doll. If she walked across the room, they’d rave: “Look at Madeline’s posture! She’s like a little swan.” I could be sitting perfectly still, and my father would look at me with a sneer. “Look at her, slouching. With that face, the least she could do is sit up straight so she doesn’t look so… pathetic.” The word “ugly” was my shadow. In high school, while Madeline was the homecoming queen, I was the girl with the cystic acne and the oily hair. My parents didn’t buy me skin treatments; they bought me a lecture. “My god, what is happening to your face? It’s genuinely hard to look at. What are we going to do with you?” “Casey, get some bangs. Cover that forehead.” “Just wear your oversized hoodies. At least they’re neutral.” I listened to them. I believed them. I developed a permanent slouch. I kept my head down. I wore masks long before the pandemic, just to hide. I wanted to disappear. My adolescence wasn’t a time of “firsts” or “memories”; it was a long, dark tunnel of dysmorphia. I assumed every laugh I heard in the hallway was directed at me. I assumed everyone saw the “eyesore” my parents saw. When I went away to college, three states away, I started to breathe. New friends would pull my hair back, or ask why I always wore a mask. “You’re not ugly, Casey. You’re just… tired. Let’s try some tinted moisturizer.” Encouraged, I tried. I grew out the bangs. I learned to use a brow pencil. But even when I felt “pretty,” the ghost of my mother’s voice was there. If a group of girls laughed at a nearby table, I’d spiral. Is my foundation too thick? Can they see my jaw? Are they laughing because the ugly girl is trying too hard? The insecurity was in my marrow. I once worked up the courage to post a selfie on Instagram—heavily filtered, carefully angled. I’d forgotten to block my family. Madeline’s comment was the first one: “Oof, Casey, that makeup isn’t doing what you think it’s doing. Aren’t you afraid people will see you in person and be shocked? #Catfish” My mom’s follow-up: “You’re trying too hard to be ‘glam.’ Makeup just clogs your pores and makes your skin worse. Stick to the basics, honey.” I deleted the photo. I threw away the makeup. When I came home for the summer, my mother didn’t even say hello. She just looked at my plain face and smirked. “Oh, good. You stopped wearing that ‘slutty’ makeup. You finally realized it was a losing battle?” Madeline chimed in, “You need to lose ten pounds before you try wearing a sundress like that again, Casey. Some clothes require a certain… face… to pull them off.” 4. Little Eyesore. The “Glitch.” The “honest” advice that felt like lead weights. I looked at them—my beautiful, perfect parents and my radiant sister. They were a united front of aesthetic superiority. “You call me ‘small-minded’ and ‘antisocial,’” I yelled, my voice cracking. “But you made me this way! You told me my smile was hideous, so I stopped smiling. You told me I moved like a toad, so I stopped dancing. You told me I looked like a joke in a dress, so I stopped trying to be pretty.” Every time I tried to climb out of the hole, they stepped on my fingers. “I hate you! I hate that you did this to me!” The room went dead silent. My mother blinked, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her face, followed quickly by indignation. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “We gave you everything. You’ve never wanted for food or a roof. And this is the thanks we get? Because we were ‘honest’ about your looks? A stranger would have been much crueler.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “I didn’t want honesty! I wanted a mother! I wanted someone to tell me I was smart, or kind, or anything other than a disappointment to the family photo album!” “Oh, please,” my mother scoffed. “You’ve had a perfectly fine life. Stop acting like a martyr.” I wanted to laugh. A fine life? Madeline’s closet was a boutique. Mine was a collection of hand-me-downs and clearance-rack neutrals. Madeline had private coaches for everything—piano, dance, tennis. I was told we “couldn’t afford” the extracurriculars I wanted, while Mom bought Madeline a four-thousand-dollar gown for a debutante ball she didn’t even win. I walked to school alone from the age of six because Madeline told my parents, “She’s so weird looking, people will think she’s my maid or something. It’s embarrassing to be seen with her.” I spent twenty years walking in the rain while they picked her up in a warm car. I spent twenty years being the “before” picture in their minds. “You’re biased!” I screamed. “You’re so obsessed with her beauty that you’ve treated me like trash for two decades! Why? Just because of a jawline? Just because I didn’t get your nose?” The relatives began to whisper. My parents were starting to look rattled by the public spectacle. “Go to your room, Casey,” my dad said, his voice a stern rumble. “You’re making a scene.” “No! Give me my money! You stole twenty thousand dollars from me to buy a bag for the daughter you actually like!” Slap. The sound echoed like a gunshot. My mother had swung with everything she had. My head snapped to the side, and my ear began to ring. “I didn’t raise a thief,” she spat, though she was the one who had taken my funds. “I raised a daughter. If you want to act like a stranger, then leave. Get out of my house.” I looked at her. Even in her rage, she was stunning. My father stood behind her, his handsome face set in a mask of cold disappointment. Madeline stood to the side, her arms crossed, looking bored. They were a set. And I was the packing material. “Fine,” I said, my voice finally steadying into something cold and dead. “Keep the money. Consider it the ‘ugly tax’ I’m paying to finally be rid of you. I’m leaving. And you never have to worry about your family photos being ruined by me ever again.”

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It was my fifth birthday with Brooks Sterling, and like every year before, I sat alone, watching a table full of gourmet food turn cold. Brooks had promised, as he always did, that we’d celebrate together. And as always, he broke that promise. This year, the excuse was his childhood friend, Piper, who wanted to do a photoshoot. She invited him and his three best friends to be in it, and once again, he abandoned me without a second thought to rush to her side. At 11:00 PM, Piper posted a photo on her social media, visible only to me. In the picture, four men in nothing but boxer briefs and bow ties were kneeling on one knee, surrounding a woman clad only in a sheer veil. The caption read: “The little cupcake some people can’t have, I have the whole bakery.” I took a screenshot of the post and sent it to the girlfriends of Brooks’s three friends. Since you all look down on me so much, I hope you never have to kneel and beg me for anything in the future. 1 I stared calmly at the photo on my phone, feeling something inside me quietly shatter. In the picture, warm yellow light cascaded down, making the four men—dressed only in black boxer briefs and exquisite Windsor knot bow ties—look like Greek gods. They knelt on one knee, encircling a woman with eyes full of submission and loyalty, looking up at her as if she were a queen on a pedestal. The woman was draped only in a sheer black veil that was almost transparent. Her curvaceous figure was visible beneath the fabric, exuding a raw, unbridled desire. Her expression was haughty, her presence commanding and impossible to ignore. The caption was a deliberate provocation. “The little cupcake some people can’t have, I have the whole bakery.” Looking at the cold food on the table, then back at the image of Brooks and his three best friends looking like domesticated pets, I suddenly wasn’t angry anymore. Knowing it wasn’t worth it, what was there to be angry about? First, I liked Piper’s post. Then I commented below: “A bitch and dogs, a match made in heaven.” After commenting, I took a screenshot of the post and saved it, then sent it individually to the girlfriends of Brooks’s three best friends. Just as I finished taking the screenshot, the post magically disappeared. About ten minutes later, a flood of messages poured into my phone. I turned on my screen. Brooks’s three friends had sent me messages. Liam: “Sienna, are you sick in the head? What does me helping Piper with a photoshoot have to do with you? You actually told my girlfriend? Why is your mouth so cheap? Now she’s blowing up at me, are you happy?” Mason: “Sienna, you crazy bitch! What did I ever do to you? Why did you send that to my girlfriend? If you have nothing better to do, go die. Don’t start drama here!” Ethan: “Stupid bitch! Your reach is pretty long, isn’t it? Did I dig up your ancestral grave in a past life? I hope your whole family gets hit by a car when they walk out the door!” Reading the vile insults from the three of them, I opened the chat box to retort when Brooks’s call came through. I pressed answer, and Brooks’s exasperated voice came through the speaker: “Sienna, what kind of crazy stunt are you pulling in the middle of the night?” “Because you went and tattled, now Liam and the others’ girlfriends are all demanding breakups. Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? Are you so twisted that you can’t stand to see others happy?” “Now Piper is crying from guilt, and it’s all your fault!” “I don’t care what you’re doing right now. Get your ass over here and explain everything, then apologize to Piper. Otherwise, don’t expect me to let you off easy next time.” “Piper is crying?” “Of course! If you hadn’t made Piper cry, would I be this angry with you? I’ve spoiled you too much. You’re getting more and more unreasonable.” “Is she still wearing that mosquito net that can’t even cover her headlights while she’s crying? Are you guys still wearing those matching black briefs while you comfort her?” Brooks’s voice suddenly became unnatural: “Sienna, stop being so unreasonable. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Really?” I sent him the screenshot of the post directly: “Brooks, when Piper dressed so sluttily for the photoshoot, did you guys get turned on?” Brooks hung up the phone immediately. 2 I guess he didn’t expect Piper to secretly post a picture to spite me, and Piper probably didn’t expect me to screenshot it and send it to the other three’s girlfriends. Seeing him hang up, I sent him a message: “Why did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you questioning me anymore?” The screen showed he was typing, but I never received the message. With no other choice, I posted the screenshot and the chat logs of Liam and the others cursing me onto my social media timeline. Caption: “Even if no one is with me, happy birthday to me.” It was already midnight, my birthday was over, but my timeline became active because of this photo. Many of my friends liked and commented on my post. “Whoa! Brooks went to be with someone else on your birthday? Sienna, you met a scumbag, didn’t you?” “Don’t be mad, Sienna. If he won’t celebrate your birthday, we will.” “Brooks usually looks so decent. How wild is he playing? Is this four jacks and a queen?” “OMG! She dares to wear that? Dressing like that and posting it on social media, is she trying to solicit customers?” Ten minutes after I posted, Liam’s girlfriend joined the fray. She also posted the screenshot and announced her breakup directly. “Today Liam can wear a pair of briefs to accompany her for a photoshoot, tomorrow he can strip naked and roll in the sheets with her. A worn-out shoe deserves a rotten sock. You lapdog, go lick your rotten abalone.” My already buzzing timeline became even more crowded because of Liam’s girlfriend’s self-disclosure. In just five minutes, the likes on her post exceeded a hundred. Even so, Brooks still didn’t give me any reply. But I am not a silent heroine in a novel who never speaks her mind. So, in the middle of the night, I sent the screenshot directly to Brooks’s parents. Now, Brooks finally stuck his head out of his turtle shell. Early the next morning, I received a call from Brooks’s mother. “Sienna, can you come over?” “Your uncle and I saw that photo. I think there must be some misunderstanding. Come over, and let’s clear things up.” “After all, you two have been together for so many years, and you’re about to get married. Why make things so difficult?” “Auntie, you saw the photo. I don’t think there’s any misunderstanding.” “You’ve seen how I’ve treated Brooks all these years. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong by him. I love him, but that doesn’t mean he can rely on my feelings for him to hurt me without fear.” After all, she was an elder, and I couldn’t be too disrespectful: “I’ll get ready and come over in a bit.” After hanging up, I put on simple makeup and drove out. When I arrived at the Sterling villa, Brooks’s parents were already waiting at the door. Brooks stood behind them, head bowed like a frosted eggplant. I got out of the car, and just as I closed the door, a black sports car suddenly rushed out from an angle and headed straight for me. “Sienna, look out!” Seeing the sports car about to hit me, Brooks rushed over and pushed me out of the way with a flying leap. “Bang!” I fell to the ground and saw Brooks fly into the air. 3 The sports car fled, and Brooks was rushed to the hospital. He pushed me away in the nick of time, but he was hit in the legs by the black sports car. Both of his legs were fractured, but his life was not in danger. Looking at Brooks lying in the hospital bed with casts on both legs, I was calm. Before yesterday, if I saw him hurt like this, especially because of me, I don’t know how guilty and remorseful I would be. If it were the me from before yesterday, I would probably throw myself on him and cry my heart out, wishing I could take his place. But now, I was glad he pushed me away so I only suffered minor injuries. Brooks, who had just finished surgery, was still very weak, his face pale as a ghost. His eyes fell on me, a faint light in them: “Sienna, I’m glad you’re okay.” I didn’t take his bait: “Brooks, do you know what day yesterday was?” There was impatience in his tone: “Sienna, I’m hurt. I got hurt for you. Can’t you see that?” “I’m hurt this bad. If it weren’t for me, you’d be the one lying here today. How can you be so cold-blooded? At a time like this, you’re still thinking about your stupid birthday. You’re too selfish.” Brooks’s mother on the side also looked at me reproachfully: “Yes, Sienna. Brooks got hurt for you. He’s your savior and your fiancé. How can you talk to him like that?” “You still know I’m your future daughter-in-law? I thought you had already set your sights on someone else.” I looked at Brooks in the hospital bed: “Answer my question. What day was yesterday?” Brooks was like a deflated ball: “Yesterday was your birthday, okay?” “Sienna, I just didn’t spend your birthday with you. Is it necessary to hold onto this and not let go?” “I promise you, I will definitely spend your birthday with you next year. Is that okay?” I found it a bit funny: “Then let me ask you, what were you doing on my birthday last year, the year before last, and the year before that?” “I…” Seeing him speechless, I began to help him recall: “Last year, Piper said she wanted someone to watch the sunset with her. You accompanied her to climb the mountain for a day, leaving me alone in the couple’s restaurant until it closed.” “The year before last, you said you would spend my birthday with me. I had the yacht all set up, but you temporarily ran off to help Piper move house and drove away my car, leaving me alone at the pier.” “The year before that, Piper returned to the country. You guys booked the five-star hotel under my name and celebrated for a week. Not only did you forget my birthday completely, but you still haven’t settled the hotel bill. I paid the deficit of over a million for you.” “This year, I won’t talk about others. You dressed yourself like a trafficked slave to accompany her for a photoshoot. Even streetwalkers dress more decently than she does. If I took pictures like that with a man, what would you think?” Anger rose in Brooks’s eyes: “Sienna, can you stop being so unpleasant?” “Piper took the photos to record the best version of herself. It’s an artistic creation, in pursuit of sexiness and charm. She dressed like that to understand her body more deeply and break through traditional concepts. Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t understand.” He rolled his eyes at me disdainfully: “I dedicated myself to art. You think it’s corrupting public morals not only because you have no artistic cells, but also because your thoughts are dirty, so you can’t accept others’ excellence.” “Hmm, you’re right. My boyfriend didn’t spend my birthday with me, so I should magnanimously forgive him and support him in pursuing art without complaint. Is that what you mean?” “Exactly. If you missed your birthday this year, there’s still next year. But what Piper loses is the youth that will never return once it’s gone. She just wants to record her most beautiful moment. As her friend, what’s wrong with me helping her achieve her dream?” I nodded in agreement: “Yes, you are absolutely right.” “Since you like pursuing art so much, I won’t stop you. Let’s break up.” 4 Hearing me mention breaking up, Brooks finally got anxious: “Break up? You want to break up over such a trivial matter?” “Sienna, are you crazy? Piper was alone. What’s wrong with me helping her as a friend? Can you stop making a scene here? I’m already like this. How long are you going to keep this up?” “I’m not making a scene. You only remember that Piper was alone, but my parents weren’t around either.” “Before they went abroad, they asked you to take care of me. How did you promise them then? Have you achieved it now?” Brooks simply refused to look at me in a huff: “Anyway, this is all your fault!” “Okay, since you insist that I’m wrong, I won’t say anything more.” “Take good care of yourself. I will pay for your medical expenses.” After speaking, I got up to leave. Brooks’s father on the side couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and slapped Brooks hard on the face. “Slap!” Brooks looked shocked: “Dad, why did you hit me?” Brooks’s mother pushed his father away and shielded Brooks: “Are you crazy? Why hit the child for no reason?” “I hit him!” “He’s about to get married, yet he’s still entangled with other women. Shouldn’t he be hit?” “If he hadn’t gone to see that woman, would he have been hit like this? It’s his own fault! He deserves it!” Brooks’s father turned to look at me apologetically: “Sienna, don’t be angry. Uncle will teach this brat a lesson for you. Uncle promises you that this kind of thing will never happen again.” “No need for a lesson.” I reached out to stop him from continuing: “I can forgive him, but I have a condition.” Brooks’s eyes lit up: “What condition? Tell me, I’ll do it!” “Call the police.” I looked straight into his eyes: “Call the police. Whoever hit you, sue him for attempted murder and pursue it to the end.” “Impossible!” If his legs weren’t broken now, he would have almost jumped off the hospital bed when he heard this. “Liam didn’t intend to hit me. I was just accidentally injured by him. He is my brother. If I sue him, we won’t even be brothers in the future.” “No! Absolutely not!” “Whatever.” I was too lazy to talk nonsense with him anymore and got up to leave. Before leaving the door, I stood at the door of the ward: “From today on, don’t expect your good brothers to get any benefits from the Davis family.” “Brooks, since you think the brother who wants to kill your fiancée is more important, then I’ll handle it myself.” Just as I walked out of the hospital, I saw Piper rushing to the hospital entrance. Seeing me, her eyes were contemptuous: “I heard Brooks is injured. I came to visit. You won’t mind, will you?” “No, I’ve already broken up with him. Let alone visiting, even if you roll in the sheets with him, I won’t mind.” After speaking, I tried to walk past her, but she stretched out her arm to stop me. “Sienna, don’t think you’re so great just because you have some stinky money. What can you do with money? Brooks still follows me around and can’t bear to let me go.” “You don’t think he really loves you, do you? He’s just reached the age to get married. He’s with you for his family’s company. To him, you’re just an inflatable doll for venting his lust. He told me this himself.” “Do you think he’s happy with you? When he’s with me, he never mentions a word about you. Whether he’s drunk or dreaming, he calls my name.” Her eyes were full of viciousness: “Not just Brooks, even Liam and the others are just a matter of me hooking my finger. I can order them around however I want.” I keenly detected the hidden meaning in this sentence: “So, Liam driving to hit me was also your idea?” “Hmph! I didn’t say that.” An arrogant expression appeared on her face: “You blockheads born into wealthy families don’t know what men really need, so you can’t hold onto your men’s hearts.” “I just can’t stand the high and mighty faces of you young ladies. I just want to take away your men and make you unhappy.” “As long as you’re sad, I feel comfortable.” I nodded, then looked behind her: “Did you all hear that?” Piper turned around and saw three women standing behind her with ferocious faces, led by Liam’s ex-girlfriend. “Are you the one named Piper? You’re pretty arrogant! Did playing shared boyfriend break your brain?” Piper looked at me incredulously: “Did you call them here?” I smiled maliciously: “I was waiting for them. Who were you waiting for?” 5 Piper was cornered by the three women: “What do you want to do?” “I warn you, if you dare touch me, your boyfriends won’t let you off!” “Let me tell you, don’t bully me. I’ve been injured, my brain doesn’t work well.” “Who are you scaring? As if anyone’s brain works well. If my brain worked well, would I find someone like Liam?” With that, Liam’s ex-girlfriend grabbed Piper by the hair and smashed her head against the wall, making Piper cry for her parents. The other two didn’t stay idle either. One started tearing her clothes, and the other grabbed her newly done manicure and scratched Piper’s face wildly. The madness was like Iori Yagami awakening the Orochi blood. “I’ll teach you to seduce other people’s boyfriends. I’ll teach you to pretend in front of me. Today I’ll ruin your face and see how you can still be a bitch and flirt with men!” “Don’t you love showing off? This time I’ll let you show off enough. Taking photos is boring. Let everyone see your shameless look!” In the corner in front of the hospital entrance, the three of them beat Piper wildly, making her scream repeatedly. She couldn’t take the beating anymore. Risking a few more hits, she pushed two of them away fiercely, then kicked one in the stomach. She finally broke free from the three’s encirclement and rushed out, trying to escape. She panicked and chose the wrong path. When passing by me, she was tripped by the foot I extended and rolled directly down the steps in front of the door. Seeing that she dared to resist, the three rushed over, regardless of whether it was her head or buttocks. Before she could get up, they pressed her to the ground, sat on her, and punched and kicked her. Piper uttered helpless cries, curled up like a big maggot with her head in her hands, crying and begging for mercy while being beaten awkwardly. “Stop fighting, I was wrong!” “I won’t dare seduce other people’s boyfriends next time, please stop fighting!” Her dress was torn into rags, her whole person was like an old mop head. Even the underwear inside the skirt was torn, revealing half of her white buttocks, which was stepped on solidly by a thin heel, making her howl in pain not like a human voice. More and more onlookers gathered, but no one helped her call the police. There were even occasional bursts of applause and cheers in the crowd watching the excitement. People are never stingy with their applause and cheers for shameless mistresses. Having seen enough, I was about to leave when I looked back and found Liam, Mason, and Ethan rushing over. The three rushed over to pull away the four women who were tearing each other apart. As a result, Liam’s girlfriend was even more angry when she saw her ex-boyfriend. She scratched Liam’s face fiercely, leaving five bright red fingernail marks on his face instantly. Braveling the storm of their girlfriends and ex-girlfriends, the three men managed to snatch Piper, who was covered in cuts and bruises, and protected the disheveled Piper behind them like flower protectors. Ethan was obviously the most unsettled one. Seeing that the three women were unrelenting, he raised his hand and punched his girlfriend on the bridge of the nose, causing her nose to bleed directly. He was stunned after hitting her. The Carter family’s business had been sluggish for the past two years, relying entirely on the market share allocated by my family and his girlfriend’s family to keep the business going. This girlfriend was not only a girlfriend to him, but also a benefactor protecting the Carter family. Ethan knew he had caused a catastrophe and was so scared that he knelt down immediately with a “thump”: “Baby, are you okay?” “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t pay attention just now. I’ll take you to bandage it right away.” He was almost paralyzed with fright. Just as he was about to reach out to help his girlfriend, his arm was grabbed. He turned his head and saw Piper pulling his arm, crying like rain on a pear blossom: “Brother Ethan, it hurts so much.” This “brother” was so sweet that even I, a woman, felt numbness over half my body when I heard it, let alone this idiot Ethan. Ethan was elated by this “brother”. He didn’t care about his girlfriend with the bleeding nose. He actually stood up to protect Piper and enter the hospital. Ethan’s girlfriend couldn’t take it anymore and blocked the hospital entrance, covering her bleeding nose: “Ethan, if you dare to choose her today, your whole family will get out to the train station to beg for food tomorrow!” Ethan got anxious: “Have you made enough trouble? Look at how you beat Piper. You are simply a shrew!” “I’m a shrew? You shot erotic photos with this bitch behind my back, and now you have the nerve to scold me? None of you Carters are good things!” A few people started a scolding war at the hospital entrance. Liam and the other two protected Piper behind them and directly scolded me, who was not involved in the fight on the side. “Stop arguing! Shut up!” Just as the scene was about to turn into a full-on brawl, a shout stopped the two groups’ saber-rattling. A few police officers appeared at the hospital entrance. The leading officer scanned the people present with a serious gaze: “This is a hospital, not a place for you to fight. If there is something you can’t solve, you can go to the police station. Making a noise here and affecting the normal work order of the hospital, you have violated the law!” He looked at everyone present: “Who is Liam?” Liam on the side hurriedly raised his hand: “I am, me!” He walked to the police officer and pointed at me: “Officer, it’s this woman making trouble here. Arrest her quickly!” As soon as the words fell, the police officer took out handcuffs and pressed them directly on his wrist. “Liam, you are suspected of intentional homicide and hit-and-run. Now we are summoning you according to the law. Please come with us.”

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I was born unable to feel pain, yet I was a relentless people-pleaser. The first time my adoptive parents hit me, they covered my mouth with foul hands. “Stay quiet, or I’ll stab you dead!” “Worthless girl, I regret ever taking you in.” Since I felt nothing, I didn’t make a sound. Instead, I handed them a knife. “If it makes you happy, I’ll die.” Thinking I was mocking them, they stabbed me in the stomach. Blood spread across the floor. They finally smiled. Clutching my wound, I smiled back. Later, my rich biological parents found me. The day I arrived, a pale, doll-like girl rushed crying into their arms. The fake heiress looked at me tearfully. “Mom, Dad, now that Olivia is back, you won’t want me anymore, will you? I’ll just pack and leave.” My parents’ eyes filled with pity as they turned to scold me for being cold. Before they could speak, I lifted a vase and smashed it against my own head. “Don’t cry, sis. I’ll die right now, okay?” 1 The world instantly fell silent. Scarlett froze, her eyes wide, forgetting to cry. While my parents were contacting a family doctor, she recovered her wits and whispered fiercely in my ear, “You filthy beggar, what are you trying to pull?” “You’re dirty and smelly, not even worth a single one of my fingers. You’re completely unfit to be seen.” “If I were you, I would have drowned myself in a well by now, rather than coming back to embarrass Mom and Dad!” On the way home, my parents had already told me about our family situation. They were in a business marriage, both holding high-powered positions. Scarlett, on the other hand, had always been well-behaved and considerate since childhood, even gentle with the household staff. But this seemingly obedient sister didn’t seem to want me as her older sibling. A wave of hurt and fear surged through me. When my parents rushed in with the doctor, they found me sobbing and running out. Just then, a car sped by. I had no time to dodge and crashed directly into it. The screech of brakes ripped through the air, followed by a chorus of screams. My mother collapsed, terrified, while my father rushed to check on me. Tears streaming down my face, I whimpered, “Mom, Dad, perhaps I shouldn’t have come back?” My father helped me up, looking exhausted. “Olivia, your mother and I finally found you. How can you say such a thing?” I cried, tears pouring. “But Scarlett said I’m dirty and smelly, and that living would only embarrass you both.” My father’s brow furrowed, his face instantly darkening. Scarlett’s face went pale, and she shook her head frantically. “No, Dad, I didn’t…” She gave me a timid glance, her voice tinged with a victimized tone. “Sister, I know I took your place all these years, so it’s natural for you to resent me.” “But how could you falsely accuse me? I clearly said I welcomed you home.” She cried, looking utterly heartbroken, her shoulders trembling. Neighbors, drawn by the commotion, couldn’t bear it any longer and spoke up: “Scarlett is such a kind child.” “The one they brought back seems so unlikable, even risking her life just to vie for attention.” “She must have gone bad living outside. So young, yet so manipulative.” Listening to their scolding, I cried even harder. “Scarlett, do you really welcome me back? So, I just misunderstood? I’m so sorry. I’ll confirm again right now!” I choked back tears, pulled my phone from my pocket, and, in front of everyone, pressed play. 2 The phone screen was shattered, but the audio was still perfectly clear. The air hung in dead silence. The neighbors, who had just been vocally sympathetic, now lowered their heads awkwardly. On Scarlett’s face, only terror and panic remained. I clutched my phone, tears streaming down my face, pretending to be utterly miserable. “Mom, Dad, am I really as awful as Scarlett says?” “Of course not, Olivia,” my father reassured me gently. “You’re our precious child, found after so long, our only biological daughter.” But with so many eyes watching, and given that our neighbors were all wealthy and influential, making a scene would be disastrous. So, my father made a quick decision. “This is Scarlett’s fault. Your mother and I will talk to her properly. Shall we go to the hospital first?” With a single look from him, Scarlett reluctantly offered an apology. The crowd dispersed, and we quickly headed to the hospital. The doctor performed a thorough examination, confirming only minor scrapes and bruises, at which point my parents finally breathed a sigh of relief. Only Scarlett’s face was terrifyingly grim. Not only had my parents’ attitude towards her cooled, but her meticulously cultivated perfect image had also utterly collapsed. After my wounds were treated, I returned to the Howard house. Scarlett was summoned to the study, while I went to my room to rest. Because of what had just happened, the servants looked at me with sympathy. They led me to a bright, spacious room, not forgetting to thoughtfully close the door behind them as they left. The soft sheets carried a sweet scent, and I quickly felt sleepy. Just as my eyes were about to close, my arm was suddenly seized, and I was yanked violently from the bed. “Where did this beggar come from? Who gave you permission to sleep in Scarlett’s bed?!” My body was already weak. The pull sent me flying, my back slamming hard against the corner of a table, tearing my wounds open again. Looking up, a handsome young man stared at me with piercing eyes. He saw the blood on me, paused for a moment in surprise, then quickly stepped forward. But he merely went to straighten the sheets I had wrinkled. “Do you know how delicate silk sheets are? They’re easily ruined if they get dirty.” I was about to apologize when Scarlett walked in, having heard the commotion. “Eason, you’re here.” “Scarlett, what’s wrong?” Eason frowned, his eyes filled with concern as he saw her reddened eyelids. “Have you been upset?” “I’m fine,” Scarlett shook her head. “What were you and Olivia talking about?” At her words, Eason’s gaze shifted to me. “You’re Olivia Howard?” Without waiting for my answer, he kicked me again. “Were you intentionally putting on an act to embarrass Scarlett?” “Do you know her reputation has been ruined because of you? And now you’re in her room, are you trying to frame her again? So Mom and Dad will kick her out?!” “Let me tell you, even if you are the Howard family’s biological daughter, the only person I’ll ever marry is Scarlett!” So, he was Eason Knight, my fiancé. I secretly assessed them, truly believing they were a perfect match. Even if I didn’t say anything, I would never try to take him from Scarlett. “What, still scheming against Scarlett?” Eason sneered, his voice full of disdain. “Let me tell you, since I dared to hit you, I’m not afraid of you tattling!” Scarlett stood by, offering empty words of persuasion, but showing no intention of stopping him. Wiping away tears, I knelt before them, explaining. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was Scarlett’s room, and I never intended to frame her.” “Please don’t be angry. I’ll go explain everything to everyone right now.” Eason paused, his expression growing complex. Just as he was about to speak, Scarlett’s tearful sobs suddenly echoed from behind him. “Sister, why do you have to be like this?” “You’re Mom and Dad’s biological daughter. Whatever you ask for, they’ll agree to it without a second thought.” “Just like this room, you said you wanted it, and they immediately told me to give it to you…” These words were like adding fuel to the fire. Eason slapped me hard across the face. “You filthy beggar, why do you have to fight Scarlett for everything? If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be so upset!” But I felt no pain. I looked up, my sole desire to make them happy, and asked, “Really? If I disappear, will Scarlett be happy?” Eason frowned, still cursing. “Yes! Without you, everything will be better!” The instant his words fell, my eyes suddenly lit up. Without hesitation, I turned and lunged towards the nearby railing. The next second, the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground mingled with screams. 3 I ended up in the hospital again. In the hospital room, Eason’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Knight, looked utterly embarrassed, forcing Eason to kneel and apologize to me. He resisted, disgruntled. “She jumped herself. Why should I apologize?” Mr. Knight rubbed his temples, a headache brewing. “If you didn’t do anything, would she just randomly jump from a height for no reason?” Eason turned his face away, pursing his lips in silence. Seeing this, Mr. Knight, enraged, grabbed his belt, ready to lash out. I struggled out of bed and shielded Eason. “Mr. Knight, it’s my fault. Please don’t blame him.” I used all my strength. Though I felt no pain, my struck shoulder quickly swelled and bruised. Eason was stunned, but still defiant. “Olivia, who told you to block for me?” “You claim you don’t compete or grab, yet the moment you returned, you took Scarlett’s room. Now you’re playing the good guy!” Scarlett, who had been silent, turned chalk-white. My mother looked at her in disbelief. “Scarlett, didn’t you suggest it yourself earlier?” Tears instantly welled in Scarlett’s eyes, and she stammered, “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I was just momentarily misguided. I was afraid that if Olivia came back, you wouldn’t want me anymore…” My mother shook her head in disappointment. “Scarlett Brooks, you’ve deeply disappointed us!” “Insecurity is not an excuse for your mistakes! You say you’re afraid, but do you even know what your sister went through before?” When I was five, I was kidnapped by traffickers. They intended to extort a hefty sum, but the police were hot on their heels, so they abandoned me and fled. My adoptive parents picked me up and used me as a punching bag. Because of my congenital insensitivity to pain, I was also emotionally slow. Day after day, year after year, watching the constant new wounds on my body, I mistakenly believed this was how love was expressed. People-pleasing became my only means of survival. I looked at my parents’ ashen faces, then glanced at Scarlett, who was on the verge of fainting from crying. Before Eason could rush to her side, I spoke. “Mom, Dad, Scarlett didn’t mean it. Please don’t blame her.” The hospital room fell silent. Everyone exchanged glances. My mother squeezed my hand tenderly but didn’t utter another word. Scarlett was ultimately grounded for three days. As for Eason, he started avoiding me from that day on. Perhaps to make amends, or to show how much they valued me, my parents spent a fortune hosting a grand welcome-home banquet. On the day of the banquet, my parents dressed me like an exquisite doll. They held my hands, one on each side, solemnly introducing me to the guests. I looked back and met Scarlett’s gaze across the room. Earlier, as a gesture of apology, the Knight family had generously transferred five percent of their company’s shares to me. Scarlett, as their future daughter-in-law, hadn’t even received a meager one percent. Yet, these past few days, she hadn’t caused any trouble, and her hostile attitude towards me had softened. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was finally willing to accept me and live in peace. So, when Scarlett suggested we go outside for some fresh air, I hesitated for a moment, then nodded, drawn by her sweet smile. But reality often defied expectations. When we reached our destination, I only saw a few young men, street thugs. I looked at Scarlett in confusion, about to speak, when a resounding slap landed hard on my face. Punches and kicks rained down on me. I curled up on the ground, shielding my head with my hands. Scarlett stood nearby, frowning in dissatisfaction. “Haven’t you guys eaten? Why isn’t she even screaming?” But even as they gasped for breath, exhausted, I remained silent. Seeing my battered state, Scarlett merely admired it, her eyes full of triumph. Through my messy hair, I met her gaze. “Scarlett, does this make you happy?” “Of course!” She strode forward, grabbing my hair. “Olivia Howard, I wish you would just die!” “I’m supposed to be the only young lady of the Howard family! Why did you come back? Why are you trying to steal Mom and Dad from me?!” Tears streamed down my face, my eyes filled with pleading. “Scarlett, what do I need to do for you to accept me?” Scarlett burst into laughter at my words, her face contorted with twisted pleasure. “Accept you? Not unless I’m dead! Otherwise, I’ll never accept you in this life!” The next second, her laughter abruptly ceased. I picked up a brick from the ground and brought it down forcefully.

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1 The photos from my belated wedding photoshoot with my husband turned out so stunning that the studio featured them as a “client showcase.” Two days later, my showcase photo was Photoshopped into a funeral portrait, and the bridal shop was swamped with online hate. “What kind of reputable shop shoots wedding photos for a mistress?!” “My husband and I have been together for three years! And she’s knowingly a home-wrecker! How dare she even get wedding photos taken!” I rushed to the bridal shop, intending to clear things up, only to collide head-on with a woman. She pointed at me, shouting, “That’s her! She seduced my boyfriend!” “Today, I’m going to show all the netizens what happens to a mistress!” Before I could explain, they started attacking me without a word. They shaved my head, slapped my face until it was paralyzed, broke two of my ribs, and I miscarried… As I lay dying, I called my assistant. “Cancel the wedding reception I was planning with Gabriel Maxwell! Also, find me a lawyer to file for divorce!” A mere trophy husband, spending my money to support a mistress. I’ll make him regret this! … Seeing the funeral portrait forwarded by a friend, my blood boiled. I immediately called the bridal shop. To my surprise, the manager on the other end sounded even more furious than I was. “Get over here right now and explain yourself to Mrs. Maxwell!” Mrs. Maxwell? Could there genuinely be another Mrs. Maxwell besides me? Confused, I rushed to the shop. From a distance, I saw a large crowd gathered around the entrance. The woman at the front spotted me and shrieked, “That’s her! This vixen! She seduced my husband!” The manager hurried to calm her. “Mrs. Maxwell! Mrs. Maxwell! Let’s talk inside, calmly!” “Mrs. Maxwell?” I eyed the woman warily. I didn’t know her at all, so how could I have stolen her husband? I forced down my anger, trying to sound calm. “Excuse me, do we know each other?” A woman who came with her grabbed my hair without a word. “What are you pretending for? Who doesn’t know Isabelle is the young madam of Maxwell Enterprises?!” Isabelle? Could this be the ‘junior colleague’ Gabriel had sometimes mentioned? I subconsciously asked, “You’re Isabelle Hampton?” She snorted, looking down, then raised her hand and slapped me. “Is the wife’s name something a mistress like you can even utter?!” It really was her… All this time, Gabriel had told me Isabelle Hampton was an ambitious junior colleague with an unfortunate family background. Out of sympathy, I even suggested he help her more. But I never imagined that Isabelle Hampton was actually his mistress, and he was spending my money on her! Before I could fully process it, she grabbed my wrist and shrieked, “Oh, you! You even stole the Cartier bracelet my husband gave me!” I looked at the bracelet on my wrist. It was clearly one I had bought myself, which had gone missing recently. Could it be that Gabriel had been taking my own gifts to give to her? I struggled, shaking free, and yanked off the bracelet. “This bracelet is mine! My initials, LSQ, are engraved inside. Look closely!” She promptly smashed the bracelet to the ground, then stomped on it repeatedly. “Who’s to say you didn’t steal it and then secretly engrave it?!” “A mistress like you, what could you possibly want from seducing someone’s husband? Money, obviously!” I was honestly infuriated to the point of laughter. “You say you’re the wife. Are you legally married?!” Hearing this, Isabelle pulled out her phone and showed several intimate photos of herself and Gabriel. She scrolled through numerous photos: intimate selfies with Gabriel, love letters, and promises he’d written to her. Tears streamed down her face as she wailed, “Yes, we haven’t officially registered our marriage, but we’ve been together for three years! We were already planning our wedding!” “But that’s no reason for you to interfere! You’ve ruined my family; you’re nothing but a mistress!” I stared at those photos, feeling a prickling sensation on my scalp, my vision blurring. Gabriel, who always appeared cool and restrained in front of me, had taken such photos and written such declarations of love for her. Married for five years, betrayed for three. It was utterly laughable. Seeing more and more onlookers gather, the manager grew anxious. She grabbed me, pulling me into the shop, lowering her voice. “Miss Lee! Just admit it! Apologize to Mrs. Maxwell!” “If you keep this up, our decades-old brand will be ruined by you!” 2 “What?!” I violently shook off the manager’s grasp, staring at her in disbelief. “I’m your customer, aren’t I?” “Not only did I purchase your most expensive package, but I also referred many friends to you. Is this appropriate?” The manager quickly let go of my hand, shaking her head and waving at Isabelle, a look of disdain on her face. “Mrs. Maxwell! Don’t listen to her! Our shop doesn’t welcome mistresses like her as customers. If you hadn’t found us, we wouldn’t have known she was such a person!” The people around us all raised their phones, whispering, “How shameless! Are mistresses always so arrogant?” “Even if they’re not legally married, you can’t so blatantly destroy someone else’s family! You act like being a mistress gives you some kind of superiority!” A wave of injustice washed over me. I quickly explained, “No! Don’t listen to her one-sided story! Based on just a few photos, how can you assume I’m a mistress?!” “Gabriel Maxwell and I have been married for five years! I’m not a mistress! If you don’t believe me, I’ll call him over right now!” Saying this, I picked up my phone, ready to make Gabriel come and clarify everything. But Isabelle snatched my phone, scoffing, “Lie, keep lying! Married for five years? And only now getting wedding photos? Who are you trying to fool?!” I froze, looking at her, and retorted, “Is it forbidden to take wedding photos after five years of marriage?” When Gabriel and I got married, he was just an ordinary employee, penniless. There were no traditional wedding gifts or dowry, let alone wedding photos or a reception. This year was our fifth anniversary, and it was his idea to make up for all the missing ceremonies. I had been so touched, believing his love for me was as strong as ever. But now, it seemed I had been foolish. My retort made Isabelle stumble. The woman next to her shoved me, sharply admonishing, “What is your attitude?!” Seeing this, the manager quickly stepped in, pulling them back, a forced smile on her face as she spoke to Isabelle. “Mrs. Maxwell, please calm down! I’m a victim here too! I will definitely sue this woman, make her compensate my losses, and restore our shop’s reputation!” She took Isabelle’s hand, trying to coax her into the shop. “Please don’t be angry, let’s go inside and talk calmly…” I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. The manager had turned against me so quickly, probably because Maxwell Enterprises also had an investment in this shop. But what they didn’t know was that Maxwell Enterprises owed its existence to me! Without me, Clarissa Lee, there would be no Maxwell Enterprises! Before the manager could finish, Isabelle raised her phone high, started a live stream, and shouted into the camera, “Everyone, look at this bridal shop! They’re actually using a mistress’s wedding photos with my husband for their showcase! This is absolutely outrageous!” She pointed at me, accusing hysterically, “And this woman! She’s ruining my relationship with my husband, she’s unrepentant, and she’s still trying to argue! How shameless!” The woman next to her chimed in, “She even lies, saying she’s been married to someone else’s husband for five years! What a joke!” “A vixen like her should be exposed for everyone to see!” The live stream instantly flooded with viewers. Swayed by Isabelle’s inflammatory remarks, they quickly filled the comments section: [What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you hitting her?!] [This woman clearly had plastic surgery. If it were me, I’d beat her until her own mother wouldn’t recognize her!] My heart sank. Seizing a moment when they weren’t looking, I snatched back my phone and quickly dialed 911. However, Isabelle was quick. She slapped my phone to the ground, yelling, “You dare call the police?!” Seeing them rolling up their sleeves, I had to explain again. “Gabriel Maxwell and I have been married for five years! We have a marriage certificate! If you feel wronged, you should question Gabriel, not me!” Isabelle ignored my explanation, picking up my phone and smashing it against my face. A sharp pain, and then warm liquid streamed down my cheek. The surrounding crowd gasped. I lay on the ground, my vision blurry. She poked my temple hard with her finger, sneering, “My husband was just playing around with you! Did you actually take it seriously?!” “You’re at death’s door, and you still dare to use my husband to scare me! Beat her!” With that, I was brutally kicked and pinned to the ground, unable to move. Isabelle’s hand repeatedly struck my face, each slap echoing loudly. I barely opened my mouth to speak, only to be struck again, forcing out a whimper. Just then, a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach. “Oh no…” I looked at the manager, pleading for help, but she only stood by, clucking, “You were so sickeningly sweet and seductive that day; no wonder Mr. Maxwell was so affectionate, even willing to do an eighty-thousand-dollar wedding photoshoot with you.” “I thought you were some rich lady, but you’re just a vulgar gold-digger!” “If you knew you’d get what was coming to you from the wife, why did you break up their family in the first place?” Isabelle’s face darkened further hearing this. She stood up, repeatedly stomping on my back with her high heels. I felt like every bone in my body was shattering. Tears welled in my eyes, only making her more excited. She crouched down in front of me, her sharp acrylic nails scratching my face, cursing, “An eighty-thousand-dollar wedding photoshoot?! You really have the nerve to demand that!” “I think someone like you isn’t even worth eighty cents!” The manager glanced at my face, then sidled up to Isabelle, fawning, “Mrs. Maxwell, don’t worry, the security camera at our shop entrance just happened to be broken. I’ll also testify for you that this mistress provoked you first…” “But please, be lenient and clarify for our shop online. We had no idea she was a vixen; we’re victims too!” Isabelle didn’t even glance at her. Instead, she grabbed my hair. “You shameless woman, stealing my bracelet is bad enough, but you even dare to copy my hairstyle!” “Shave her head for me now! Let’s see how she’ll seduce other women’s husbands after this!” This long hair, I had grown it for Gabriel. He once said he liked long, wavy hair, and I immediately changed from my previous short haircut, keeping it for two whole years. Now, looking back, wasn’t Isabelle’s hair long and wavy? It turned out, from beginning to end, I was just a clown. The woman next to her grabbed a pair of scissors from the shop and aimed for my head. I trembled with fear but dared not move, terrified she would injure me. I glared at Isabelle, shouting, “If you do this to me, Gabriel Maxwell will not let you get away with it!” Isabelle, as if hearing a joke, threw her head back and laughed. “Who doesn’t know my husband dotes on me fiercely?! Do you think he’ll do anything to me for a vixen like you?!” The words had barely left her lips when my hair was severed. She didn’t hold back; my vision blurred, and I could only lie weakly on the ground, muttering, “Call the police…” Finally, a kind passerby, unable to watch any longer, called for help. Isabelle also called Gabriel. She deliberately put him on speaker, her voice sickly sweet. “Honey! That vixen who keeps imitating me and trying to seduce you, I caught her today!” “But she actually dared to call the police! Honey, you need to come and teach her a lesson!” I yelled into her phone, “Gabriel Maxwell… we’re over…!” Gabriel, hearing my voice on the other end, sounded panicked. He quickly said, “Where are you? I’m coming right away!” Hanging up, Isabelle looked triumphant. “Just watch, my husband will definitely leave you!” Just then, officers rushed in. Seeing my state, they were shocked and immediately rushed me to the hospital. As soon as I got into the car, I eagerly opened my phone, completely ignoring the dozens of messages and missed calls from Gabriel. Instead, I called my assistant. “Cancel the wedding reception I was planning with Gabriel Maxwell! Also, find me a lawyer to file for divorce!” He’s nothing but a decorative vase. Once he’s tainted, I don’t want him!

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