Category: English

He was famous for his strict adherence to propriety, taking the initiative to marry me and take responsibility after our wild night. But he didn’t love me. After we got married, no matter how hard I tried, he kept me at arm’s length. He was as cold and detached as a monk. Until a woman appeared who perfectly matched his criteria for a partner. He lost his mind over her, unable to sleep at night. So, it wasn’t that he didn’t have desires and emotions. He just didn’t have them for me. 01 At 1:00 AM, Carter finally came home. He seemed surprised that I wasn’t asleep yet. “I told you, you don’t have to wait up for me.” “But I want to wait,” I said, smiling and leaning against him. “It’s only natural for a wife to wait for her husband to come home.” He paused in taking off his watch: “Suit yourself.” Only a small lamp was on in the living room. In the dim light, the man’s features were so perfect he didn’t seem human. Every time I looked closely at him, I felt a deep sense of awe. “I missed you so much today—” My words were cut off. Carter frowned at me: “What are you wearing?” I said: “New lingerie, do you like it?” “Don’t do this kind of thing again.” He turned and walked towards the guest bedroom. “Carter,” I stopped him. “Today is my birthday, can’t you just spend some time with me?” He stopped in his tracks: “Happy birthday. I’m pretty tired today, we’ll talk about it later.” He went into the room and locked the door behind him. Leaving me alone in the living room, wearing semi-transparent lingerie, feeling like an absolute fool. We’ve been married for half a year, and Carter has always kept me at a distance. No matter how much I flirted with him, he remained unmoved. Like a monk devoid of human desires. The media always said Carter was different from those playboy trust-fund kids. The Vance family had strict rules, raising him to be the most proper gentleman in Manhattan’s elite circle. But I had seen his other side. His wild, unhinged side. Seeing it once made me crave it again. However, Carter’s actions told me that night was just an accident. My phone vibrated. My best friend, Lily, sent a message: “Have you seen the trending topics… if you haven’t, promise me you won’t get mad.” What happened? I opened Twitter, and a glaring headline caught my eye. #CarterVanceLateNightRendezvousWithBeauty# Oh, I knew this beauty. Carter’s new secretary. 02 The comment section was full of people watching the drama unfold. [Congrats to CEO Vance for finding true love!] [Bring the marriage registry here! Hurry up and divorce that manipulative Audrey Miller!!] [Audrey Miller even posted a PDA tweet today. Talk about a slap in the face.] [Is there anyone who doesn’t know Audrey Miller orchestrated a one-night stand to force him into marriage…] So, Carter was with his new secretary tonight. I had seen that girl before. Twenty-two years old, just graduated from college. Very young, very pretty, and full of energy. Most importantly, she perfectly matched Carter’s criteria for a partner. They met at a campus recruitment event. Carter went to give a speech personally, and the girl was bold enough to be the first to raise her hand to ask a question. After the meeting, Carter specifically pulled out her resume and studied it for a long time. Unexpectedly, this girl was appointed directly as his executive secretary. You have to understand, Carter’s secretarial team wielded immense power. The company’s HR department had no say; only he could personally appoint them. Following the information provided by netizens, I found the girl’s account. An hour ago, she posted a tweet. [Can’t handle my liquor. Thanks to my kind boss for driving me home, hehe.] In the photo, she was sitting in the passenger seat, showing Carter’s hands gripping the steering wheel. 03 Early the next morning. Carter walked out of his room and saw me. “You have a shoot today?” “No.” “Then why are you up so early?” “What were you doing last night?” “Team building with the executive office.” “Was it a team building for a group, or a team building for two?” “What do you mean?” I pulled up the trending topic. Carter glanced at it, downplaying it: “The media is taking things out of context. There were six people at dinner yesterday.” “Is that so? Should I believe you?” “Audrey, stop being unreasonable. You know better than anyone what the media is like.” He wasn’t wrong. After all, in the current entertainment industry, no female star gets hated on more than me. The media deserves a lot of the credit for that. But these are two different things. I cut straight to the chase: “Do you like her? That secretary fresh out of college.” “I don’t.” Faced with my blunt question, Carter remained calm and heavy. “And I don’t appreciate your wild guesses. If you have too much free time, I’ll have the management department schedule more shoots for you.” He spoke as if addressing a subordinate. Not his wife. I said: “I remember your criteria for a partner. Under 5’7″, long straight dark hair, a clean aura, energetic and smiley. She fits them all.” And I didn’t fit a single one. I was known for being cold and glamorous. Carter was getting annoyed: “Are you done? If you’re done, I’m going to the office.” “Fine, go. Today I will tell the media that Chloe is a homewrecker interfering in someone else’s marriage—” Carter stopped abruptly. When he looked back at me, there was actual anger in his eyes. “Chloe is only twenty-two. She’s just a kid. Do you want to destroy her life with rumors?” God knows how long it had been since I saw Carter angry. Raging for a beauty, only that beauty wasn’t me. I said: “Carter, do you remember how old I am?” “Yesterday, I just turned twenty-five.” “I’m only three years older than her.” “When I was getting torn apart by the public, did you ever feel sorry for me?” 04 My feelings for Carter began when I was eighteen. I grew up in a single-parent household. During my senior year of high school, my mom got seriously ill. I didn’t go to college. After graduation, I worked at a bar to scrape together money for her treatment. I worked a legitimate job, not selling anything inappropriate. But because of my standout looks, I occasionally faced verbal harassment from male customers. The manager said the customer is always right, and if I didn’t want to get fired, I just had to endure it. One day, I encountered a particularly difficult customer. “How old are you, little girl? Oh, eighteen. So young. Are you a waitress here? Do you offer any other services besides serving drinks?” A group of men started laughing sleazily. “You don’t? Stop pretending. Your uncle here isn’t just rich, he’s also very capable. Come with me tonight, and I promise you’ll experience pure bliss.” It was disgusting. He was about to continue harassing me when suddenly, a glass of liquor fell from the sky, soaking him from head to toe. “Who the f—” Seeing who it was, the male customer froze. “Mr., Mr. Vance, what is the meaning of this?” “Apologize to her.” 05 That was the first time I heard Carter’s voice. It was clear and cool, like pearls breaking off a string and clinking onto a porcelain plate. He was there to discuss a business deal. I figured if it weren’t for work, he wouldn’t have set foot in this place. Because he completely didn’t fit in here. Carter didn’t have the slightest smell of smoke or alcohol on him. He was as aloof as a god. After the man slinked away, Carter said to me: “People like that aren’t fit to do business with me.” “Thank you, sir.” “You don’t need to endure it. Next time, remember to fight back and protect yourself.” “I’ll lose my job.” He looked down at me: “Are you very short on money?” “Yeah, my mom is sick and needs medical bills paid.” “What about school?” I shook my head: “I don’t have the money for tuition.” “I understand.” Surprisingly, Carter didn’t show any pity. That was good. I didn’t like people pitying me. He left me a phone number. “This is my subordinate’s contact information. You can reach out to him. Our company has a charity project helping impoverished students. As long as your situation is verified, you can apply for a grant.” He paused, then said one last thing. “If you have the opportunity, you must study.” Later, I really did get the grant. After paying for my mom’s treatment, there was still some left over. I took a gap year, studied hard, and successfully got into college. It was only then that I learned he was the famous Carter Vance. The Vance family was a titan in the entertainment industry, terrifyingly wealthy. And Carter was the sole heir. In my sophomore year, I met him for the second time. I gathered my courage and walked up to Carter: “Mr. Vance, thank you.” He was confused: “You are?” He didn’t remember. The lighting was dim that night, and he barely looked at me. Helping me was just a casual gesture for him. But that was okay. I would work hard, and sooner or later, I would stand beside him. A year later, I became a signed artist at Carter’s company. I was finally able to confidently extend my hand to him: “Hello, Mr. Vance.” He would never know how many years I worked hard for this day. I didn’t dare to hope for the future; I was already content. But half a year ago, an accident completely changed our relationship. —Carter and I had a wild one-night stand. 06 I only remember the gist of what happened that night. The company hosted a gala, and many VIPs attended. I drank too much, and so did Carter. My guest room was 606. I was sure the room I entered was 606. But Carter was lying inside. I don’t even remember how we started kissing. I was intoxicated, and so was he. There were many rumors about Carter in the outside world. He kept his distance from women and strictly adhered to propriety. Some said his sexual orientation was a mystery. Others said he had a hidden illness. But that night, I experienced firsthand that it was all fake! When Carter lost control, it was fatal. … Early the next morning, someone rang the doorbell. My legs were weak as I went to open it. Because of the hangover, my mind was still foggy, and I thought it was housekeeping. In reality, it was full of reporters. Countless camera lenses were aimed at me. While I was standing there in shock, Carter also walked over. “Who is it?” He didn’t even have time to put on his shirt properly before he was caught on camera. 07 The scandal between Carter and me caused an uproar. The Vance family was strict and wouldn’t allow such an absurd thing to happen. Carter found me and proposed marriage. Of course, I agreed without hesitation. Happiness came too suddenly, going straight to my head. It caused me to ignore the scrutiny and coldness in his eyes at that moment. He asked me: “Wasn’t the room number 909?” I said: “No, it was 606. You read it wrong.” He was silent for a moment, then spat out four words: “As you wish.” It wasn’t until after we got married that I understood the deep meaning of those four words. It turned out that after that night, Carter went to the hospital for a check-up. They found traces of drugs in his system. The kind of illicit drug that makes you lose your reason and be controlled by lust. Though illegal, this drug wasn’t uncommon. Who drugged him? At the same time, that morning, I opened the door for the reporters. Who called the reporters? How did they conveniently gather right outside this room? Everything seemed planned. I was the prime suspect. Carter hadn’t originally intended to resolve this with marriage. But ruining the family’s reputation caused their stock to plummet, and the family elders were furious. He had no choice but to take responsibility. I had defended myself. “It wasn’t me”—I said those words countless times. But everything was just too coincidental. Carter said it was hard for him to believe me. During these six months of marriage, we slept in separate rooms. Even if he accidentally touched my hand, he would pull away as if he’d been electrocuted. I didn’t give up. I believed that one day, he would discard the misunderstandings and barriers. But it seemed I wouldn’t live to see that day. Because of Chloe’s appearance. 08 I had seen Carter reading her resume word by word. As if trying to study her past between the lines. He was so gentle, but not towards me. After fighting with Carter, I packed my things and left the house. We gave each other the silent treatment for days, and he never reached out. A week later, I went to record a talk show. Carter came too, bringing his new secretary. Having not seen him for days, when he saw me, he just gave a distant nod from afar. No intimacy whatsoever. Chloe followed beside him, curious about everything, constantly asking him questions. I remembered that Carter hated stupid people at work. But right now, facing Chloe, he was very patient, answering every single question. After a while, he came over to me. “Audrey,” he said. “I gave you the status you wanted. Don’t drag innocent people into this.” “We haven’t seen each other for a week, and this is what you want to say?” “Just a reminder.” I laughed: “Mr. Vance, do you still think I drugged you and called the reporters?” “What else?” I didn’t say anything more. There was no need. Disappointment flooded my heart and brain, sobering me up. Carter was truly good to his little secretary. Her probation period wasn’t even over, yet he let her appear on the show in his place. She was talkative and full of energy. Until the host asked about me. “Chloe, you just joined the company recently and you’re already on a show with the boss’s wife. Are you nervous?” Chloe glanced at me and said: “What’s there to be afraid of? I know there are some bad rumors out there, saying Audrey used to be a bar girl, and that she’s very manipulative and stuff. But I want to say, Audrey is a very good person. You shouldn’t be prejudiced against her!” The whole studio was dumbfounded. She just publicly listed all my scandals! Even the host, who had seen all sorts of situations, was stunned into silence. The host had to change the subject. “Ahem, next, let’s ask Audrey. Do you have any important plans coming up? Give the fans watching a little hint.” “I actually do.” I smiled calmly— “I’m, get-ting, a, di-vorce.” Every word was clear and resounding. Carter, who was off-stage, snapped his head up. His eyes were filled with shock and disbelief. 09 The studio was quieter than it had ever been. The host looked like she wanted to die. Probably in her entire career, she had never felt this awkward. “Why, why, why did you make this decision…” “You should ask Miss Chloe.” I tossed the ball to Chloe. The little girl was caught completely off guard. Did she think she was the only one who could play passive-aggressive? Sorry, I prefer the direct approach. “You’ve all seen the news lately, right? My husband has been acting ambiguously with his subordinate. If I don’t divorce a husband like that, am I supposed to keep him around for the holidays?” Facing the camera, I smiled. “I don’t like fighting with other people over a man. I have a lot of things to do. I have to shoot movies and record shows. Without love, I can still live a wonderful life.” “As for men, if they don’t behave, just get a new one.” As soon as I finished speaking, Carter seemed to finally snap out of it and forcefully interrupted the show. He pulled me backstage. “Audrey, what nonsense are you spouting?” “I’m not spouting nonsense.” I peeled his fingers off me one by one. It was so laughable. The man who usually dodged my touch was now refusing to let go. “Carter, listen closely.” “Starting today, I, Audrey Miller, am officially asking you for a divorce.” It was as if all the blood had been drained from Carter’s body, his face turning pale. “You’re fighting with me, right? You think if you bring up divorce, I’ll coax you.” He nodded to himself: “Okay, I’ll coax you. Giving you the cold shoulder these past few days was my fault. I apologize. I’ll have PR handle everything that just happened on the show. The company executives won’t say a word of blame. If you don’t like Chloe, I’ll transfer her out of the executive office—” “Not necessary.” I interrupted. “Wake up. I’m not throwing a tantrum.” I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. It was a prepared divorce agreement. “Take a look. If you don’t have any objections, sign it now.” 10 The show was live. Even though it was halted midway, the things I said were broadcasted accurately. I instantly went viral on Twitter. The comment section was surprisingly supportive. [I’m siding with Audrey on this one. That Chloe girl was talking way too passive-aggressively, it was disgusting.] [I wanted to say this a few days ago: regardless of how Audrey got her position, she is the legitimate wife now, bound by law. A bunch of people praising the mistress as ‘true love’—what kind of messed-up morals is that?] [Support wifey getting a divorce. If you don’t leave, I’ll fight you.] [Off-topic, but Audrey’s face is truly stunning. I was mesmerized by her beauty watching the live stream today… is Carter blind?] People were also discussing what kind of person Chloe really was. Because the day after the scandal broke, Carter, while fighting with me, swiftly issued a clarification statement. The executives who attended the dinner that night also posted photos. The scandal collapsed on its own. But my interview seemed to confirm their ambiguity again. Could a man as proper and rigid as Carter really cheat? Suspicions were running high. Soon, the company’s disciplinary actions were announced. Because of her inappropriate language, Chloe received a severe warning and was transferred. Everyone said this was Carter trying to win me back. But was it really? I knew Carter’s temper too well. If any other employee had made such a mistake, it wouldn’t just be a transfer; they would usually be fired directly. Chloe merely being “transferred” meant he was still protecting her. 11 Looking back at the day of the recording, I brought out the divorce agreement. But Carter refused to sign. I couldn’t guess what he was thinking either. I decided to send a text to rush him. “Mr. Vance, after you fill out the divorce agreement, please send it to me so we can pick a day to get the divorce certificate.” Carter called me directly. “Rey-Rey, haven’t you caused enough of a scene?” Rey-Rey is my nickname. When I was little and couldn’t articulate well, I always mispronounced my name “Audrey” as “Rey-Rey,” so my mom gave me this nickname. Carter had always known this name. But this was the first time he called me that. “I am very firm on the divorce. Please hurry up, Mr. Vance, don’t delay me from finding my next partner.” “Next partner?” Carter practically laughed out of anger. “I’ve given you the status and resources you dreamed of. Who else do you want to find? Rey-Rey, you are my first, and you will be my last. I’ve never coaxed a girl before, but I can promise you, as long as you want it, the position of Mrs. Vance is always yours. No one can take it away!” I said: “But what I dreamed of was never those things.” Carter seemed stunned. “You still don’t know what it is I truly wanted… but it doesn’t matter, I don’t want it anymore.” With that, I hung up. My best friend, Lily, was also an employee at the company. She told me that Carter had been in a very dark mood these past few days and kept zoning out during meetings. Lily said: “Everyone is saying privately that you can’t bear to leave Mr. Vance and that you’ll be back sooner or later. It seems… Mr. Vance believes it too.” No wonder. Ever since I mentioned divorce, Carter had been initiating contact with me every day. But for the past three days, he had reverted to his cold and aloof self. So he was waiting for me to bow my head. Then I’ll give him what he wants. On Friday, I took the initiative to go to the company. When Carter saw me, his eyes lit up: “Rey-Rey, have you thought it through?” “I have.” I slapped a stack of documents on his desk. “Not only do I want a divorce, but I also want to terminate my contract.” 12 I signed a five-year contract with the company. This year was exactly the fifth year. I chose not to renew. Carter was in disbelief. He asked through gritted teeth: “Are you sure about this?” “Yes.” “Found a new agency?” I didn’t know which agency he was talking about. But I still said “Yes.” My attitude infuriated him. He hesitated no longer, took a pen, and signed both contracts. However, he pressed so hard he almost tore through the paper. With the signed divorce agreement, the rest of the process was very simple. The day I got the divorce certificate, I felt incredibly light. This one-sided crush that had lasted for seven years was finally over. As I was admiring the certificate, I heard Carter say: “Remember, today is the day you gave up everything from the Vance family.” “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t regret it.” “I hope so.” His tone was extremely cold, but when he looked up, I noticed. His eyes were red. 13 Whether his eyes were red or not, what did it matter to me? I threw myself into my new life without stopping. Of course, to say I wasn’t sad at all would be a lie. After all, I had loved him so much and tried so hard to get close to him. But clarity only takes an instant. My sadness was only for feeling that my efforts were not worth it. The Vance family had funded my education, and I figured working for them all these years was enough to repay them. A few days later, Lily told me she had also resigned. “Rey-Rey, if you go, I go. Men are unreliable, your sister will stay with you!” I was so moved I almost cried. Lily had been working behind the scenes for years and was very capable. We planned to start our own personal studio. Preparing the studio would take some time. Before that, I was going to record a reality show first. It was a heartwarming variety show. The guests had to bring a few old items and reminisce about the past. After much deliberation, I decided to bring my old backpack. It was the backpack I used during my gap year studying for the college entrance exams. It held a lot of memories. On the day of filming, Carter showed up. It wasn’t that surprising. I had accepted this gig while I was still with my previous company, and besides me, newcomers trained by the company were also on the show. Carter had a habit of being hands-on and came to check in with the production team. He stood behind the camera crew, his eyes fixed on me. I just pretended I didn’t see him. Halfway through the shoot, it was my turn to present. I opened my backpack and took out the items one by one. “This is a gel pen. During my gap year, I did so many practice tests I had to change pens every two or three days. “Oh, and this. The SAT prep book. Everyone’s done this, right? I call it a nightmare. “This is a notebook for mistakes. I have so many more like this. “And this—” I suddenly stopped. The last item was a yellowed diary. It used to be my most loyal listener. During the hardest and most exhausting times of studying, writing in my diary was my only way to relieve stress. My prolonged silence piqued the curiosity of the guest next to me. “Is there a secret in this notebook? You have to follow the rules of the game, no hiding.” She took my notebook and flipped it open. [September 2016. The teacher said the intensity of the gap year classes is very high, and many students can’t handle it. But I must persevere, because I have to go see Carter Vance.] She froze too. The whole studio went quiet.

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Kelly did not even let me explain. She told me Zane had nearly drowned jumping into a freezing river for her, a reckless devotion she would not trade for a billion dollars. I gave a bitter smile and asked if betraying me meant nothing. She lowered her head, muttered a quick apology, and left without a trace of hesitation. Watching her walk away, I sighed quietly. She had no idea she was giving up far more than me and our shared future. She was abandoning her place as the matriarch of a multi billion dollar empire. We were once the couple everyone on campus envied. I led the dean’s list and treated her like royalty. Everyone believed we would marry. Yet she left anyway, with no fights or warning. On a perfectly ordinary afternoon, she walked straight into the arms of the campus delinquent who had pursued her for three years. She claimed my love was too safe. She wanted a romance that was explosive, chaotic, and reckless. From that day, she skipped classes to go clubbing and rode on motorcycles with local street thugs. Her parents, desperate, called me in tears, pleading for help. My heart softened. I took the fully funded study abroad documents I had prepared for her and tracked her down. She only sneered, saying the department had no exchange quota and accusing me of forging papers to trick her into leaving Zane. 1 I had my butler, Silas, accompany me to the administration building to process my paperwork. Wanting to avoid any unnecessary drama about my identity, I specifically instructed the university to simply announce my withdrawal. They were not to mention a single word about my transfer to an elite Ivy League institution overseas. The paperwork was finalized. Walking out of the grand double doors, the midday sun beat down mercilessly, the harsh glare making my eyes sting. Silas lowered his voice. “Are you holding up alright, young master?” I glanced up at him. “Do I look like the kind of man who would fall apart over a woman?” Silas shook his head. A self-deprecating chuckle escaped my lips. “The eighteen year old me would have. But at twenty one, I finally understand what my father meant.” “He always said love was the most useless commodity in high society. It only turns you into a walking punchline.” I am the sole heir to the Kingsley family empire. Since childhood, every single person who approached me did so with dollar signs in their eyes. After surviving enough betrayals, I gradually locked myself away in my own isolated world. But a part of me still craved a normal youth. I wanted genuine friends and a warm, uncomplicated romance. So, at eighteen, I put on a pair of thick, black framed glasses, bought the cheapest clothes I could find, and enrolled at this university. However, the aura of detachment I had built up over a lifetime was too strong. An entire month went by without a single person daring to speak to me. I tried joining clubs, only to be rejected one after another. Eventually, I found myself sitting by the campus lake, utterly defeated and ready to throw in the towel. Then Kelly appeared. She crashed into my deadened heart like a blinding ray of light. When she smiled and handed me a cold soda, my fingers literally trembled as I took it. In eighteen years of life, it was the very first time someone had given me something out of pure, uncalculated kindness, even if it was just a cheap drink. She comforted me with a soft voice and excitedly dragged me into the sketching club, swearing she did not care about my supposedly poor background. In that exact moment, I decided to give her my entire heart. And I really did do crazy things for her. Once, I heard a false rumor that she had a boyfriend. I spent the entire night drinking rotgut whiskey in a dive bar until I threw up blood. But the next day, when she cleared up the misunderstanding and hugged me, confessing she liked me too, I cried like an absolute fool. Looking back on it now, maybe that is what youth really is. It always comes with a heavy dose of pain. I was just about to leave the administration courtyard. Unexpectedly, Kelly and Zane blocked my path. Kelly’s eyes were visibly red. She marched right up and grabbed my wrist. “Alan, I know you are heartbroken, but you cannot ruin your life by dropping out! I will feel too guilty if you throw your future away like this!” I yanked my hand back, my tone dropping to freezing temperatures. “My withdrawal has nothing to do with you. We have no relationship whatsoever. Keep your hands to yourself.” Without another word, I turned to walk away. Zane immediately stepped in front of me, wearing an absurdly self righteous expression. “Kelly gave you three of her best years. That is more than enough! You dropping out right now is just a manipulative stunt to make her feel bad and force her to come crawling back! If you really loved her, you would wish us the best!” Right at that moment, my three dorm mates happened to be walking by. Derek, our dorm leader, shoved Zane hard in the chest. “Have you got no shame? You steal the guy’s girl, and now you are playing the victim?” “The whole school knows how well Alan treated her. She tossed him like garbage, and now she wants to play the innocent angel?” “Any girl who chooses a piece of trash like you is no prize herself!” Zane exploded. “You can trash talk me all you want, but keep Kelly’s name out of your mouth!” A split second later, he threw a wild punch. The four boys instantly tangled together in a vicious brawl. Students swarmed the area, forming a massive circle, holding up their phones to record every second. 2 It did not take long for my three friends to pin Zane to the concrete. Kelly threw herself onto the ground, wrapping her arms around him and screaming at me hysterically. “Alan! You are pure evil! You chose to drop out, nobody forced you! I came over out of the goodness of my heart to check on you, and you order your friends to jump him!” “I regret every single second of the three years I spent with you! You are a sick, possessive freak! You treated me like your personal property, forbidding any guy from getting near me. It was like living in a cage!” “You are a total monster!” Zane lay on the pavement, groaning out a weak, dramatic line. “Kelly, do not blame him. It is my fault for chasing true love. But even if it kills me, I will save you from a guy like him…” Kelly glared at me with bloodshot eyes, screaming at the top of her lungs. “What will it take for you to let him go? Is it my body you want? Fine! You can have me! Just promise you will never hurt him again!” With a violent tug, she ripped the collar of her own blouse, exposing her bare shoulder. The surrounding crowd went into an absolute uproar. “Holy crap, Alan looks like a nice guy, but he is actually a creep!” “That is so gross. I would have dumped him ages ago if I were her!” Curses, accusations, and the aggressive clicking of camera shutters instantly drowned me out. I stood tall, looking down at them from my vantage point, a cold smirk playing on my lips. “Kelly, your acting is way over the top.” She froze, her hand still clutching her torn shirt, her face a mask of shock. “What did you just say?” I slipped my hands into my pockets, my voice entirely unbothered. “I have been standing right here the entire time. I haven’t said a word, and I haven’t moved a muscle. You, on the other hand, accused me of ordering a hit, slandered me by saying I imprisoned you, and topped it off by claiming I want your body.” “It is a real tragedy you are not in Hollywood. You would sweep the Oscars.” Someone in the crowd immediately spoke up. “I was watching the whole time. It really went down exactly the way Alan said.” The public opinion flipped in an instant. Kelly’s face drained of color. She waved her hands frantically. “No! That is not what happened!” I cut her off with a voice like ice. “No? Zane is the biggest thug on campus. He gets into street fights every other day. My roommates are regular honor roll students. You really think they could drop a seasoned brawler in two seconds flat? Do you think everyone here is stupid?” “You don’t want the reputation of a cheater, so you are pinning all the blame on me.” “But you seem to have forgotten something. When I loved you, I was willing to play the fool. But now that I don’t give a damn about you, why would I ever tolerate your nonsense?” “And as for your body, cover it up. It makes my stomach turn, and I don’t want to pollute my eyes.” With that, I called for Silas and walked away without looking back. The next evening, Derek called to invite me out for a farewell dinner. They originally planned to hit a cheap food truck near the campus gates. For three years, these guys had no idea about my real background, yet they treated me like a true brother. I refused to let them eat street food on my last night. I had Silas book the most exclusive private dining room at a three star Michelin restaurant downtown. Sitting around the table, there was no awkward politeness. Just raw, honest talk between friends. We drank, clinked glasses, and reminisced about the last three years. Nobody asked how much the plates of wagyu and truffles cost. Nobody cared about the invisible wealth radiating from me. It was close to midnight when we finally stumbled out of the private room, our arms draped over each other’s shoulders. 3 The moment I looked up, I saw those two again. Zane had a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking every bit the street rat, shouting at the front desk manager. “You think I can’t afford to treat my girl to a decent meal? My wallet got stolen, and my phone just broke! I will bring you the cash in a couple of days!” The manager maintained a blank, professional stare. “Sir, your bill comes out to over five thousand dollars. If you cannot settle the check right now, I will be forced to call the police.” Kelly looked up and locked eyes with me. She shrieked instantly. “Alan! You stole his wallet on purpose! You just wanted to humiliate him in front of all these people! You are so twisted!” I furrowed my brows in sheer disbelief. “Are you mentally ill? Me, steal from him?” Zane immediately dropped his tough guy act, switching to a pathetic, wounded puppy look. “I know you still love Kelly, and you hate me for taking her away. If you wanted to eat at a high end place like this, I could have paid for you. There was no need to resort to petty crime.” My three roommates stepped in front of me like a human shield. “Bullshit! Alan would never steal a dime!” Kelly looked at me with tear filled eyes, her tone dripping with patronizing pity. “Just admit it, Alan. If you didn’t take his money, how could you possibly afford to eat here? Just hand over the wallet. I will make sure Zane doesn’t press charges. Don’t ruin your entire life over a moment of jealousy.” I completely ignored her, simply casting a brief glance at the manager. The manager caught my drift immediately. Less than a minute later, the high definition security footage was playing on the lobby screens. On the massive display, Zane was seen excusing himself to the restroom, pulling an empty wallet from his pocket, and tossing it directly into a trash can. Then, he took his own phone and violently smashed it against the tile floor, shattering the screen. Returning to his table, he patted down his pockets, shouted that he had been robbed, and pulled out his broken phone, faking a complete meltdown. Kelly’s face flushed a deep, humiliating red. She tucked her chin so far down it practically touched her chest, completely speechless. Zane panicked. “I… I swear I will bring the money tomorrow! Please don’t call the cops!” I looked down, discreetly tapping a quick message on my phone. A second later, the manager’s phone buzzed. A perfectly rehearsed smile spread across his face. “Our owner has a soft spot for romance. He says that if this gentleman can prove he truly loves the lady beside him, the house will cover the bill.” The manager walked over to the bar, picked up a thick, solid glass liquor bottle, and handed it directly to Zane. Zane gripped the neck of the bottle, his hands shaking violently, entirely paralyzed by fear. Kelly nervously checked the judgmental stares of the wealthy patrons around them. She urged him in a hushed whisper, “Zane, I know it will hurt, but I don’t want to go to jail, and I can’t get expelled. Didn’t you say you loved me? Just one hit. You are used to getting into fights anyway…” Finally, Zane squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and smashed the heavy bottle against his own skull. Crimson blood instantly poured down his forehead, dyeing half of his face red. Kelly practically tackled him in a hug. “Zane! You are amazing! Thank you for bleeding for me! I am so moved, I swear I will never leave your side!” I stood exactly where I was, my face twisted in utter disgust. Disgust for her, but mostly disgust for myself. This was the kind of cheap, trashy melodrama you read in trashy romance novels, the kind where you wonder how the female lead could be so brain dead. I could not believe I actually loved someone this brain dead for three years. What a joke. Too tired to waste another breath, I grabbed Derek’s shoulder and headed for the door. Passing by them, I couldn’t resist dropping one final piece of advice. “Next time you want to flex, make sure you check the menu prices before you walk through the door.” 4 Before I could take another step, Kelly clamped her hand around my wrist. “You have to apologize to Zane! This is all your fault!” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, dark and dry. “Me? Apologize?” Kelly puffed out her chest, completely shameless. “You obviously had enough money to book a VIP room here. Why couldn’t you just cover our tab while you were at it? You are just cheap! All those times you said you loved me over the past three years, it was all fake! If you don’t apologize right now, I am going to make your life a living hell!” Zane pressed a hand to his bleeding head, glaring at me like a cornered rat. “Don’t get cocky! My boss answers directly to Mr. Silas! The underground runs this city! I promise you, I will make you pay for this tenfold!” I let out a cold snort. “Alright. I will be waiting.” With a forceful yank, I ripped my arm from her grip and strode out into the night. Early the next morning. Derek called me in a complete panic. “Alan, it is bad! The campus forum is going nuclear! You need to see this right now!” I pulled up the university network. The top trending post had a glaring, sensational headline: [SHOCKING! Top Student Alan Kingsley Commits Theft & Violence in Jealous Rage!] Beneath it was a heavily edited video clip. The first half featured Zane playing the bloody victim while Kelly cried into the camera. The second half was a deepfake. It showed a highly realistic AI generated version of me looking down at the ground, admitting I stole the wallet, and then raising a glass bottle to attack Zane. The comment section was an absolute warzone. Rumors, insults, and death threats swept through the entire student body like a wildfire. Shortly after, the Dean of Students called me personally. He sounded heavily conflicted. “Alan, this situation with Zane has escalated beyond our control. The student body is out for blood. Could you possibly come down to the campus and clear the air in person?” “Alright.” After hanging up, I called for my butler. “Silas. I am done keeping a low profile today.” Silas bowed deeply. “Understood, young master.” One hour later. An extended, pitch black Rolls Royce Phantom glided through the streets, coming to a smooth halt right in front of the main administration building under the watchful eyes of the entire university. A massive crowd had already gathered on the steps. Zane had brought a gang of street thugs, blending them in with the furious college students. They waved picket signs demanding justice and screamed for my expulsion. Kelly stood at the very front of the mob, looking like a tragic, wronged heroine. Silas stepped out first. He bowed respectfully and personally opened the rear door for me. Today, there were no thick framed glasses hiding my eyes. No shaggy hair covering my forehead. My hair was styled flawlessly, revealing sharp, aristocratic features that could easily rival any A list Hollywood actor. I wore a custom tailored bespoke suit, a limited edition luxury watch gleaming on my wrist. The cold, untouchable aura of pure old money radiating from me made people physically step back. The moment my leather shoes touched the pavement, the entire plaza went dead silent. Everyone froze like statues. I took slow, measured steps until I stood right in front of Kelly and Zane, whose faces had completely lost their color. A chilling, hollow smile touched my lips. “So, you wanted an explanation?” Zane was the first to snap out of the trance. He clenched his fists and roared, “You think renting a designer suit and hiring a fake luxury car is going to scare me? Let me tell you, it won’t work! My boss is on his way right now, and you are going to pay in blood!” The moment the words left his mouth. A black utility van slammed on its brakes right behind my Rolls Royce. The sliding door flew open. A massive, bald bruiser wearing a thick gold chain vaulted out of the vehicle. Rocco, flanked by a dozen heavily tattooed enforcers, stormed forward with terrifying aggression. “Who the hell is messing with my boy? You got a death wish?” Rocco marched straight toward me, raising a massive, calloused hand, fully intending to slap me across the face. But in the next fraction of a second, his hand froze rigidly in mid air. His pupils dilated in sheer, unadulterated terror. “M… Mr. Silas?”

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The instant my husband left for his business trip, water began to seep from the bathroom ceiling again. A familiar dread, mixed with a growing suspicion, twisted in my gut. It had been this way since we moved into this new complex: every time he was away, the upstairs neighbors’ pipes would start acting up. The first few times, he’d flat-out refused to let me go up and confront them, claiming they were unreasonable and he didn’t want me getting upset. After he’d “talked to them,” the leak would indeed stop for a few days. But the moment he was gone again, the dripping would resume. This time, I still called him first. “Babe, the bathroom’s leaking again.” Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I thought I heard the distinct sound of running water on his end before his voice came through. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone dismissive. “I’ll deal with it when I get back. Those upstairs folks are a handful; definitely don’t go up there yourself.” Like always, I mumbled an agreement, but my feet were already carrying me out the front door. I was determined to see just how “difficult” these neighbors really were. 1 Pressing the button for the floor above, a mix of nerves and curiosity churned within me. My husband, Robert, always claimed the upstairs residents were ill-tempered, yet every time he spoke to them, the issue would “magically resolve” for a few days. It was just too strange. The elevator doors opened, and I took a deep breath, heading towards their apartment. As I approached, I could faintly hear the sound of water, accompanied by a woman’s light laughter. I raised my hand and knocked. The sounds abruptly ceased. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but no one answered. I knocked again, harder this time, raising my voice. “Hello, I’m your downstairs neighbor. My bathroom ceiling is leaking again, and I’d like to discuss it.” Still no response. The water sounds remained silent. A faint, sweet scent wafted from beneath the door – a fragrance I’d never bought myself, yet it struck me as oddly familiar. My mind a jumble of unease, I waited patiently for several more minutes. When no one appeared, I finally gave up and headed back downstairs. Back in my apartment, I opened the building’s resident chat, hoping to find contact information for the upstairs unit, but after scrolling for ages, I found nothing. The growing sense that something was off prompted me to call building management, but even they knew little about that particular apartment. I walked out onto my balcony, thinking I might try to call out to them. The moment I peered over, I saw a familiar flash of gray. Wasn’t that Robert’s favorite gray jacket? I strained to see more clearly, but after squatting there for half an hour, no one else appeared on the balcony. Had I just imagined it? I shook my head, convincing myself I was simply overthinking things, conjuring illusions out of stress. Just then, my front door lock clicked. I jumped. Robert was away; who else had a key to my place? Could the upstairs neighbor have been provoked and now decided to retaliate? I grabbed the broom leaning nearby, hid behind the door, and waited, heart pounding, for the door to open. It slowly swung inward. A figure stepped inside, a bouquet of roses in hand. I froze, the broom clattering to the floor. “Robert? You’re supposed to be on a business trip! What are you doing back?” He looked equally startled to see me, then smiled and walked over. “The company had a last-minute change of plans for the project. And when you told me about the leak, I just couldn’t rest easy. Thought I’d come home to check on you and surprise you.” He reached out to hug me, but I instinctively stepped back. “I just went up to talk to them. Someone was definitely inside, but they wouldn’t open the door.” Robert’s eyes flickered, and he quickly changed the subject. “I told you they were difficult. I’ll go talk to them tomorrow; you just stay out of it.” He offered me the roses, then leaned in to kiss me. In that instant, I caught the same familiar scent I’d noticed upstairs, and my stomach tightened. The strong fragrance of the roses had initially masked it. But as he drew closer, I also noticed the hair at the back of his neck was damp. I reached out and touched it. “Why is your hair wet?” His body stiffened for a fraction of a second, then he chuckled. “Didn’t you notice it’s raining outside? Got caught in a downpour when I stopped to buy you flowers.” I pulled back the curtains. Indeed, a light rain had started at some point. Robert’s explanation sounded perfectly plausible, but my suspicions didn’t diminish in the slightest. I kept my poker face, though, taking the flowers with a happy smile. “Thanks, babe. You should go take a hot shower; you don’t want to catch a cold.” He seemed to let out a sigh of relief, heading straight for the bathroom without another word. Lying in bed that night, my mind replayed the day’s events: the persistent leak when Robert was away, the suspicious running water, the scent, the fleeting glimpse of a familiar jacket, and his sudden, convenient return. All these details didn’t quite add up. Tomorrow, I vowed, I would accompany Robert to meet that neighbor. 2 The next morning, as I placed breakfast on the table, Robert came over, pecked me on the cheek, and said casually, “Hey, babe, I tried contacting the upstairs residents. They said they’d have someone come fix it again today.” My hand, holding the milk carton, paused. I looked up at him. “You have their contact info? Can you give it to me? That way, if you’re ever away and there’s a problem, I can just deal with it myself.” But Robert shook his head, a playful glint in his eye. “The upstairs tenant is a guy, and he looked kinda creepy. My wife’s too pretty; I don’t want him bothering you. Besides, once this leak is fixed, we won’t have any reason to interact with him again.” I didn’t reply, just stirred my oatmeal, a fresh wave of doubt washing over me. Yesterday, I distinctly heard a woman’s voice. Why was Robert telling me it was a man? Were they a couple living up there? The next two days, I had to go out of town for work. But I was distracted, my mind consumed by the lingering questions. Finally, with my work done, I decided to head home early. I put my key in the lock, but for some reason, the door was double-locked from the inside. About two minutes later, Robert finally opened it. “Babe, what are you doing back? Aren’t you supposed to be home tomorrow?” I saw the panic in his eyes, but forced a smile. “Missed you, so I came back early. What were you doing? Why was the door double-locked?” Robert gestured to the apron he was wearing. “I was just cooking. Probably just locked it out of habit when I came in. Perfect timing, actually; go wash up and we can eat.” He then turned back to the kitchen, bustling about. Since marrying him, I’d barely set foot in the kitchen whenever he was home. Everyone said I’d snagged a good one. He was also big on holidays, always showering me with gifts, big and small. Watching his busy figure, a sudden wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe I was just being overly sensitive. It was probably just a coincidence. How could I even suspect him of cheating? I nodded cheerfully and walked over to look at the dishes, but then I spotted something that shouldn’t have been on the table. My heart sank. “Why did you make braised prawns? We’re both allergic to shellfish, remember?” The storm clouds of suspicion, which I’d momentarily suppressed, now rolled back in with full force. Robert seemed to suddenly remember, hastily dumping the prawns into the trash. “Oh, right! My subordinate said these were home-grown, so I just took them. Good thing you’re home, babe, otherwise I’d be suffering.” He then put an arm around me, coaxing. “Forget it, let’s go out for a nice dinner tonight; we won’t eat at home.” He hugged me sweetly, then humbly massaged my back and shoulders. Once we arrived at the restaurant, he handed me his phone. “Order whatever you want, don’t try to save money for me, okay? All my earnings are for my precious wife.” As I took the phone to order, my finger accidentally brushed the search icon. The next second, a pink 26-key keyboard popped up. My heart plummeted. I stared blankly at the glaring keyboard. I’d been with Robert for three years, married for two; I knew his typing habits better than anyone. We both preferred the 9-key layout, finding the 26-key too cumbersome. Even if it was an accidental tap, what about the pink cat-themed keyboard skin? Robert always used his phone’s default keyboard. This had to be something someone had deliberately set up. At that moment, I knew for sure: Robert was cheating. That woman loved rose-scented shower gel, enjoyed braised prawns, and used a 26-key keyboard. But I wouldn’t confront him directly. I would catch them myself. 3 In the days that followed, to make Robert lower his guard, I never brought up the upstairs apartment again. And indeed, after he said the upstairs residents had called someone to fix it, there hadn’t been any more leaks. Less than a week later, whether his mistress couldn’t wait or Robert was just eager, he went on another “business trip.” This time, half a day after he left, there were no leaks from upstairs. Had it actually been fixed? Just then, a knock echoed at the door, followed by the delivery driver’s voice. I paused, confused. I hadn’t ordered anything; why was there a delivery? I opened the door and took the package. The moment I saw what was inside, my heart started pounding frantically. The recipient was Robert, the address was our apartment number, and the phone number was my secondary line. But inside the bag were a bottle of shower gel, a box of condoms, and a bottle of lubricant. My heart constricted, the items in my hand suddenly weighing a ton. Just as I suspected, twisting open the shower gel released that familiar scent, instantly assaulting my senses. And I was allergic to lubricant; in all our time together, we had never used such a thing. The truth was now glaringly obvious: Robert was with that woman right now. He had ordered these items but hadn’t paid attention to the delivery address, so they ended up here. The delivery app not automatically switching addresses also suggested his second home was likely somewhere nearby in the complex. If I wasn’t mistaken, the upstairs apartment had to be his little bird’s hideout! That day when I came back early from my business trip, he was cooking for her! But whether she hadn’t arrived yet, or had left early because she knew I was coming back, I still couldn’t figure out. I was so angry I could barely breathe, tears welling up in my eyes. But quickly, I wiped them away and carried the items out the door. Upstairs, I knocked hard. In less than ten minutes, the door opened. “What the hell do you want, banging on my door in the middle of the night?!” Staring at the hulking man in front of me, I was utterly unprepared and froze. What was going on? Had I been imagining things all along?! Before I could react, the man roughly yanked my hair, sending me crashing against the door frame. “I’ve had enough of you! Your man keeps bothering me, and now I’ve fixed the leak, and you’re still causing trouble? I’m going to beat you senseless!” His fist, like a brick, slammed into my body. I cried out in pain, begging him to stop. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hit me!” Just as I was about to pass out, the man finally stopped. “I’m warning you, if you ever come up here to bother me again, I will kill you!” I lay curled on the floor, too sore to speak. The man slammed the door shut. After about ten agonizing minutes, I slowly managed to get up and stagger back to my apartment. Near collapse, I video-called Robert. When he saw my face, he immediately looked frantic. “Babe, what happened to your face?! Who hurt you?” Ignoring his question, I held up the bag of items. “Robert, how do you explain these?” He looked genuinely surprised, then angry. “This has to be that upstairs tenant’s doing! That day I went up to get him to fix the leak, he got really annoyed and demanded I pay for the repairs. When I refused, he tried to hit me. I told him I’d call the cops before he finally let me go. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. This is definitely his revenge. I’m coming back right now!” The throbbing pain in my body made it impossible to discern the truth from his words. About three hours later, Robert returned, looking disheveled and wind-blown. 4 The moment Robert stepped through the door, his eyes reddened at the sight of the bruises on my face. He rushed over, gently stroking my injuries, his voice a mix of urgency and tenderness. “I’m going up there right now to settle this with him! He’s going to pay!” Robert immediately grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs, pounding on the neighbor’s door with such force my heart nearly leaped from my chest. “Open up! Get out here!” There was no sound from inside, so he hammered on the door several more times. Finally, the door opened. It was the same man, looking thoroughly annoyed. “What do you two want now? Looking for another beating, are we?!” Robert instantly pulled me behind him, pointing a finger at the man’s nose. “How dare you say that? You bought all that garbage for my wife and laid hands on her! Today, it’s either you or me!” The man scoffed, completely unfazed. “So what if I bought them? If you won’t give me peace, I won’t give you peace!” Both Robert and I were stunned, completely unprepared for such a blunt admission. I felt a pang of guilt for having doubted Robert and couldn’t help but ask, “Why would you do this? Just because we asked you to fix the leak?” The man leaned against the doorframe, his eyes full of malice. “Yeah, I was sick and tired of you two bugging me! I was annoyed!” He pointed a finger at us. “I’m warning you, if you ever dare to knock on this door again, I will seriously kill someone!” Robert was fuming, about to charge forward, but I held him back. “Forget it. There’s no point talking to this kind of person. Let’s call the police!” But at the mention of the police, the two men exchanged a quick glance, a hint of panic in their eyes. Robert’s anger suddenly deflated. He pulled me close, trying to dissuade me. “Babe, we just moved here. If we make too big a fuss, the neighbors will start talking.” Then the man’s demeanor abruptly changed too. He said in a deep voice, “Hitting you was wrong, but you guys pushed me too far! Your husband came up here how many times? Anyone would get annoyed!” He paused. “Look, how much money do you want? I’ll compensate you and apologize. Just drop it.” Considering how much we’d invested in this apartment, and wanting to avoid further trouble, I decided to let it go. Life returned to normal, and my suspicions evaporated. Until, that is, I was rummaging through a drawer for a bank card and stumbled upon a few old property fee statements. I looked closely at them. The address was the upstairs apartment’s! My hand, holding the papers, trembled uncontrollably. My heart sank completely. Not only that, but I also discovered a new key on Robert’s keyring. I secretly took it off and had an identical copy made. The next time he went on a “business trip,” I opened the tracking app I’d secretly installed on his phone. Sure enough, he was still in the complex. Holding the copied key, I took a deep breath and walked upstairs. My hand trembled as I stood before the door, but I inserted the key, turned it, and the door opened. The next second, a woman’s scream pierced the air: “Who are you?! Why are you in my apartment?!” Ignoring her, I frantically searched the apartment, almost insane with desperation, but there was no sign of Robert. Why? Why? I scanned everything, on the verge of collapse. On the sofa lay a gray jacket that I recognized instantly. On the bedside table was a razor, his preferred brand. Everything screamed one truth: Robert was cheating! But I still couldn’t prove it! Amidst the woman’s furious shouts, I returned home. Pushing open my own door, I froze. Robert was standing there, holding his phone, looking at me with a puzzled expression. “Babe, where did you go just now? I left and then remembered I’d forgotten my phone, so I came back to get it.” I stood in the doorway, staring at him, utterly speechless. My mind, however, was screaming: What in the world is going on?!

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My daughter’s simple “Daddy” was once the sole reason I clung to my marriage. When my wife, Stella Lawrence, was first caught by the police for soliciting eight men, I chose to endure it. For the sake of our family, we struck a fragile agreement: I wouldn’t file for divorce, and she would undergo daily screenings for infectious diseases at the hospital. Each time, she’d cooperate submissively during blood draws, allowing the cold needle to pierce her skin, all out of guilt. This went on for a whole month, until she was caught red-handed again, for the same offense. In that moment, my blood felt like it was boiling, my eyes bloodshot as I stared her down. “How many more times will you betray me? What do you take me and our daughter for?” A sharp slap suddenly echoed through the room. She shrieked hysterically, “I’m sick of your endless checks! You think this is a compromise? This is you silently condoning my continued indulgence!” “And how clean are you, Mr. Saint? When you were juggling countless women back then, did I ever utter a single complaint?” The most brutal truth unraveled with her cold sneer: “You really think Luna is your biological child? Just because she called you Daddy for a few years, you think you’re her real father?” The undisguised disgust in her eyes pierced my heart like an ice pick. I suddenly understood that all my persistence had been meaningless. I had chosen to forgive her for the child’s sake back then, but now, for the child’s sake, it was time to cut ties completely with this rotten relationship. … A rival, also arrested nearby, gloated. “You two are a perfect match, truly. Both of you are so dirty, what’s there to despise each other for?” “That woman must be getting drafty from all those daily checkups, huh? I bet your husband’s had enough of you.” “And let’s be real, the number of women he slept with back in the day probably outnumbers your current flings…” Stella slapped her again. “Enough! Shut up!” I stared at her, tears streaming down my face, unstoppable. Six months into our marriage, I was kidnapped by an enemy of her past crimes. Beaten and humiliated for three days and three nights, videos spread across the internet before she finally rushed to my side. At one point, I wanted to end my life. She stayed by me 24/7, never leaving my sight. She tried everything to cheer me up. “Julian, it’s all over. I’m here. No one will ever dare to hurt you again.” Two months later, she found out she was three months pregnant. She wept with joy, convinced it was a gift from heaven. “Our baby is fighting so hard to see you. Please don’t let her down, okay?” I started taking new dad classes. Slowly, I began to accept everything. Even through the arduous pregnancy, Stella treated me with unwavering devotion. It was a girl, named Luna, meaning to protect my peace. Three years flew by, and I thought life was slowly getting better. But reality delivered a brutal slap to my face. The day she was arrested, I was in the next room celebrating Luna’s birthday. The police kicked open the door, and all I saw was clothes strewn across the floor. And nine naked people on the bed. “My husband back then probably had even more, must have been awesome.” I happened to overhear that sentence. After she sobered up and saw me, she slapped herself so hard she ended up in the hospital. Claiming she was just framed by a rival. And back then, cradling a trembling me, she had retorted to others: “Am I looking for a husband or virtue?” “Anyone who dares to say one more bad word about my husband, I’ll kill them!” Just three years, and everything had changed. The chaotic shouts pulled me back to reality. The person opposite her was already covered in blood. Stella still had her fists tightly clenched. “You have no right to talk about my husband!” She turned to me, and the ferocity in her eyes finally dissipated. She stepped forward, blocking my view. “I’m sorry, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Let me calm down first.” I looked at her calmly. “I’ll have my lawyer handle the divorce papers. Let’s do it quickly.” She furrowed her brows, the drops of blood on her face looking somewhat terrifying. “Are you really that heartless? I just spoke without thinking, does all the good I’ve done for you before count for nothing?” I didn’t answer. I turned to the police. “I’m not bailing her out. Follow the procedure.” Then I walked away without looking back. Luna was waiting for me at home. Her innocent eyes were still searching. “Where’s Mommy?” I picked her up, fighting back tears. I spent a lot of time with her. Making formula, changing diapers—all hands-on. I never once thought she wasn’t my flesh and blood. But after so many years, I had already grown too attached to let go. A car engine rumbled at the door. Stella walked in, her face weary. Luna flew into her arms. Stella immediately put on a smiling face, picking her up and spinning her around. Only after telling stories and putting her to sleep did she open her laptop to deal with messages. A glass of warm milk still sat on the nightstand. She didn’t even look up. “Go to sleep first. Even for Luna, you need to calm down.” I lay awake all night. My mind was clouded, unable to decide what to do. Three days later, Stella’s adopted brother, Alex Lawrence, was getting married. It had been decided that Luna would be the flower girl. Alex and I were on good terms; there was no reason to take my anger out on him. The moment Alex saw Luna, he warmly picked her up. “Our Luna is the best, isn’t she?” Luna giggled, kissing his cheek. “Luna loves Uncle Alex the most!” The joyous atmosphere around me sent a pang through my heart. Should I really take Luna away from the Lawrence family? Alex pulled me over for a photo. “On such an important day, my lifesaver must have a place of honor!” Years ago, he was also taken by the kidnappers. I had negotiated and offered myself to protect him. In these three years, he had practically brought the world’s best things to me. I forced a smile, pushing those messy thoughts away. The wedding went smoothly. I couldn’t resist taking a few more videos. Turning around again, Luna had disappeared. I frantically went to look for her. The hotel storage room. Stella’s phone, which had been unreachable, was ringing inside. Just as I was about to knock, I suddenly heard unusual gasps. “Stella, are you really just going to watch me get married? What about our eight years?” It was Alex’s voice. My hand, resting on the doorknob, froze mid-air. Unspeakable sounds reached my ears. After an unknown duration, Stella’s languid voice spoke. “You’re part of the Lawrence family, after all. We can’t be together.” “Then are you really willing for me to sleep with other women from now on?” Alex sounded a bit desperate. “Why? When I had the kidnappers take him, you should have just left him alone!” “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be despised as dirty by a man who’s been ridden by countless others!” “Luna is our biological child…” “Enough!” Stella cut him off, the sound of clothes rustling. “I’ve already indulged you enough. Don’t push your luck.” “Since you’re married, settle down. Don’t make me sacrifice my reputation to protect you again!” I slumped against the door, making a loud thud. Eight years… I had only known Stella for seven years. That nightmare I lived day and night. It was actually orchestrated by the closest people to me. The air fell into a deathly silence after the door opened. Stella helped me up. “Are you alright? I just came to help grab something…” I stared fixedly at Alex’s clearly aroused state, my heart sinking to rock bottom. “Was it fun, watching your husband being humiliated?” Seeing that I had already heard everything, Alex tore off his disguise. “When you were under those guys, Stella and I were having a blast right next door.” “These past few years of marriage, I’ve been with her every day!” “To avoid you finding out, Stella even deliberately got caught soliciting.” My head spun with a buzzing sound, and my stomach churned with agonizing pain. Stella glared at him, then hugged me. “He and I are in the past. I’ve repaid what I owed him.” “Don’t worry, I won’t have any contact with him again. Those kidnappers have already been dealt with.” “Let’s just live well with Luna, like before, okay?” I didn’t hear a single word she said. “Get out! Don’t touch me!” I pushed her away with all my might. Leaning against the wall, I dry heaved. Behind me, they were blaming each other. I closed my eyes, but the sheer absurdity of it all choked me. Seven whole years! My supposed happiness had all been a lie, replaced by a third party. During the time I was humiliated, I thought of Stella again and again. The belief that I had to see her again kept me alive. But what was she thinking next door at that time? Was it pity for me? Or passion for Alex? When I was anxious outside the delivery room, wishing I could suffer in her stead. Was she thinking about what to name her and Alex’s child? How could anyone be so flawless in their deception? On one hand, loving me with all her might. On the other, carrying on under my very nose. Luna ran over and called out to me. My expression numb, I picked her up, walking past Stella. “Luna, it’s just Daddy from now on.” “Mommy, don’t cry. Luna wants Daddy.” Her tender little hand wiped away my tears. I stumbled out of the hotel. Since neither I nor Luna were wanted, I’d grant them their wish. That night, Alex came. He had changed out of his suit. His light attire revealed prominent hickeys on his chest. A nameless nausea surged within me. The discomfort in my stomach made my nails dig deeply into my flesh. I quickly ushered Luna back to her room. “Brother, you’re being too petty. Luna is my biological child, no matter what.” Alex scrutinized my pale face, his tone filled with thinly veiled mockery. “To be frank, your wife is pregnant again, and it’s mine too.” “In the future, only my child will inherit all the shares of Lawrence Corp.” “Because you, Julian, have absolutely no fertility left.” His triumphant expression deeply stung me. I threw a punch, the pain making me unstable on my feet. “Get out!” He clutched his face but didn’t get angry; instead, he laughed. “Enraged, are we?” “So what? You can never change the fact that Luna is my biological child!” Luna, hearing the commotion, came out clutching her teddy bear and responded blankly. “Uncle Alex, Luna’s daddy isn’t you.” I quickly covered Alex’s mouth, forcefully dragging him towards the door. He leaned on the doorframe, letting out a contemptuous sneer. “If you truly cared about Luna, you shouldn’t have let her be born. She’ll only suffer more as she grows up.” “You really think Stella wanted to have a child with you? Luna was just a tool to stabilize your marriage.” “She only loves me. Even Luna comes second!” “Just a bastard child. Living with you for so long, Stella says she feels sick just looking at her.” Seeing me frozen in place, Alex grew even more triumphant. “Do you know why she agreed to let me hire people to kidnap you back then?” “Because you had a cold, and she was 30 minutes late meeting me because she was taking care of you, so I was angry and wanted revenge.” My entire body felt struck by lightning, my vision swimming. It was merely such a trivial matter. And I was just an ant sacrificed for Alex to trample on at will. My eyes bloodshot, I stared at him, my chest heaving violently. He drew a circle on my chest. “Stella only has me in her heart.” “She was already pregnant. To avoid having your offspring, she had someone render you infertile.” My pupils constricted sharply. My body reacted faster than my mind. I clamped my hands around his throat, trembling all over. “You bastard! How dare you hurt Luna like this… Go to hell!” Luna was terrified and started crying hysterically. Alex flashed a smug, knowing smile. “You’re truly a terrible father.” I looked at a frightened Luna. My grip slowly loosened. Just then, Stella returned from the office. Seeing the scene, she violently shoved me aside. My forehead hit the corner of the table, blood gushing out. Luna’s cries grew louder. But Stella only had eyes for Alex. “Julian Reed! If anything happens to Alex, I will never forgive you!” Alex was helped away. Until the car drove off. Stella didn’t spare us, mother and child, a single glance. I held a trembling Luna tightly. “Daddy’s here, don’t be scared…” “Daddy, do Mommy and Uncle Alex hate us?” I looked into her tear-filled eyes. My chest suddenly ached as if pricked by needles. She was already three years old; how could she not understand adult emotions? “Daddy, then we don’t want Mommy either.” She buried her head in my arms. I forced myself to comfort her to sleep, swallowing my grief. It had come to this. I had to take Luna and leave. With my decision firmly made, I pulled out the divorce papers I had already drafted. I placed the peace charm she had begged for three years ago on top. She had once said it was specially sought to bless me, to ward off my nightmares. But just moments ago, I had seen an identical one on Alex’s wrist. As I packed, my perfectly fine suitcase suddenly cracked open. Just like my once envied relationship, rotting from the inside out. After arranging new lodging, I sat by Luna’s bed. Planning to leave with her at dawn. But suddenly, a commotion erupted outside the door. Before I could even stand up, Stella stormed in, her face enraged. She kicked me away, her eyes bloodshot. “Julian Reed! How cruel you are! You actually tried to kill Alex!” I curled against the wall, too much pain to speak. Luna was also startled awake. Seeing the scene, she huddled in her blankets, trembling in fear. “Lu… Luna…” I struggled to reach for her. Stella grabbed her like a chicken, lifting her up. “You’re a father! Why can’t you be kinder to Alex? Without him, how could you have become a father?” “Alex came here to apologize to you, out of kindness, and you actually hit him! He’s traumatized and now has a fever!” Luna must have been pinched because she cried hysterically. Continuously calling for “Mommy.” “Shut up!” Stella roared viciously. “It’s all your fault, you little bastard! You’re clearly mine and Alex’s child, yet you’re trying to leave with your cheap father.” I couldn’t believe my ears. No matter how harshly Stella had cursed me before, she had never been cruel to Luna. But now, she was actually taking her anger out on her own flesh and blood! “Stella Lawrence! Are you insane?” I rushed forward, trying to snatch Luna. But she held Luna high above her head. “Move again, and I’ll drop her to her death!” I froze in place, my temples throbbing, my mind a blank. “You say I’m insane? I think you’re the one who’s insane.” “I provided you with a good life, good food and drink, and you just because you caught me once, started acting like I’m dirty?” “Alex was right, I never should have kept you and your daughter!” She took a step forward, making to throw Luna down. I quickly knelt, clutching her leg. “No! I beg you, just let Luna go, I’ll do anything.” I repeatedly kowtowed, my voice desperate and helpless. She stared at me for three seconds, then suddenly smiled. “Alex wants Luna to die with him.” My mind reeled. She continued. “Do you know how miserable Alex is right now? He’s on a ventilator!” “Today, I’m going to make you experience Alex’s pain!” With that, she took Luna directly into the bathroom. The bathtub was filled with water. “Mommy, I’m sorry…” But she ignored the pleas, pressing Luna’s head underwater. Luna choked, flailing desperately. “Da… Daddy…” I held onto Stella’s arm with all my might, but she wouldn’t budge. She radiated an almost crazed aura. Luna’s voice grew fainter and fainter. Tears streamed down my face in desperation. I tried to open the drain to let the water out. But Stella violently shoved me to the ground. “Now do you know how desperate Alex was?” “I want you to witness firsthand how Luna suffers because of you!” The floor was slippery, and the back of my head hit the tile with a sickening thud. My vision went black, and my body was unresponsive. Faintly, I saw Luna’s arms stop moving. “No… Give me back my Luna…” I weakly reached out. Stella dragged me all the way to the bedroom. “Give you back your child? Sure! You enjoy wearing a cuckold’s horn that much?” “Are you that starved? No wonder you survived three days and three nights!” A bad feeling surged within me. Before I could react, my pajamas were ripped apart by Stella. I was thrown naked onto the bed. Stella snapped her fingers, and the kidnappers from years ago filed into the room. A phone camera was already set up. “You think I’m dirty? Well, I’ll make you experience what ‘dirty’ really feels like!” My eyes widened, words caught in my throat, only “Ah, ah” escaping. The sound of a belt unbuckling dragged me back to the terror of three years ago. Countless greasy hands, I felt like an object for sale. My stomach cramped violently. I desperately tried to get up. But Stella snatched a belt and tied my hands behind my back. “I advise you not to struggle, or you won’t even get to see Luna one last time.” My twisted limbs completely relaxed at those words. She flashed a triumphant, mocking smirk at me. Patting my face, she whispered into my ear. “Enjoy your gift.” The bedroom door slowly closed. All my memories flashed before my eyes like a rapidly spinning carousel. Stella and my first kiss on the Ferris wheel. That grand and solemn wedding. And her repeated pleas for me not to kill myself. No more. I wanted none of it. I bit down hard, reaching for the scissors hidden under the pillow. Screams of terror erupted from the bedroom. At the same time, Stella received a call from the hospital. After hearing the news, she rushed back to the room like a madwoman.

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1 Five years of recovery, five years cloistered away, and the moment I was discharged, I pulled every string, twisted every arm, to marry James Osmond—the man I’d secretly adored for years. On our wedding night, his voice was a whip-crack, cold and cutting: “I’m in love with someone else. Don’t expect anything from me.” “This marriage is a business deal, pure and simple. Don’t cross the line.” But one night, he was drowning in liquor, and in his drunken haze, he mistook me for his dearly departed love, Minnie. His eyes, bloodshot and brimming, pressed me against the wall, kissing me with a feverish intensity that stole my breath. We were entangled all night. The morning after, he was nearly throttling me. “Trying to mimic her while I’m drunk? You’re not worthy!” Later, my old illness flared up, and I was wheeled into his private hospital room. The walls were covered in paintings, every single one his work. The woman in the portraits was me, during my sickness. Back then, my hormones were out of whack, my body bloated, my face marred by angry red splotches. A world away from the carefully maintained, slimmer, more attractive woman I am now. … “How could you be so cruel? Not even letting me see you one last time?” James’s hot breath, thick with the scent of whiskey, whispered those words into my ear. And I knew, with a sickening lurch, that I was once again shamelessly stealing the tenderness meant for someone else. James’s chiseled features softened, inch by inch, his gaze burning with an intensity that startled me. My body, held gently by him, stiffened. A chill ran through me, as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss. Yet my heart hammered a frantic rhythm. “I’m not…” I shook my head, a frantic, helpless gesture. But as I tried to pull away, my knee gave a sudden, agonizing jolt. The familiar, searing pain shot through me, tearing a jagged rift in the fragile illusion of warmth. My face went pale, and I instinctively bit my lower lip. He, however, seemed utterly heartbroken, his voice tinged with a mournful whine. “I finally dreamed of you, and you’re pushing me away?” And as if terrified I might confirm it, he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I’m not mad anymore, just don’t leave me.” His nostrils flared, and his eyes, glistening with unshed tears, glowed in the dim light, fixed on me with a pitiful, vulnerable plea. My heart clenched, a bitter ache spreading through me. I knew his gaze saw through me to another, yet I, despicable as I was, felt a traitorous flutter. A deluge of kisses, wet with tears, rained down on me, scorching and desperate. Every inch of his invasion, coupled with the pain in my leg, left me helpless yet consumed, clinging tightly to his shoulders. As if only through this fleeting fantasy could I brave the certain chill of tomorrow. The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, I was jolted awake by a familiar, searing ache. Every joint in my body felt like it had been wrenched apart by the previous night’s tempestuous encounter, now screaming with retaliatory agony. My hand trembled as I fumbled under the bed, searching for the hidden compartment where I kept my hormone medication. The coldness of the bottle made my fingertips twitch, nearly dropping the pills. This morning tremor, this weakness, was the permanent mark Lupus had etched into my being. Seven years. This incurable, chronic autoimmune disease was like my emotions: only suppressed and controlled, never truly free. I swallowed the pills dry, pressing my hand fiercely against the worst of the throbbing in my knee. Only when the excruciating pain subsided into a tolerable dull ache did I finally breathe a sigh of relief, cautiously curling back into his embrace. My eyes greedily traced his brow, his nose, to his slightly reddened lips. Four years. It had been four long years since I could look at him like this again. Those four years hadn’t etched a single line on his face; instead, they’d refined the breathtaking softness of his youth, transforming it into a potent, mature intensity. The sliver of stolen tenderness was now laced with an overwhelming sadness. Tears welled up, unbidden, and I quickly wiped them away, terrified of shattering this fragile dream. “Had enough looking?” His voice, crisp and cool, held a hint of annoyance. My heart leaped. I instinctively clapped a hand over my nose, then, realizing the red blotches that once plagued it had long vanished, I sheepishly lowered my hand. The next second, his hand clamped down on mine, viciously, so tightly my wrist began to ache. I looked up, only to fall into the frigid depths of his eyes, seething with anger. “Trying to mimic her while I’m drunk? You’re not worthy!” “Spending so much effort to climb into my bed – you don’t feel ashamed? I find it disgusting.” He flung my hand away in disgust, and I stumbled, losing my balance, crashing into the bedside table. A jolt of pain shot through my left shoulder, leaving it numb. My eyes, betraying me, welled up. He stood, dressing, then looked down at me, his voice sharp and unyielding. “Make an appointment to get checked. You’re not fit to carry my child.” “If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to bankrupt your family and send them to prison.” The door slammed shut with a bang. 2 The tender warmth of last night’s drunken embrace was shattered by his contempt. His words, iced and sharp, felt like countless tiny ice picks, piercing deep into my joints, triggering waves of throbbing pain that threatened to dismember me. After he left, I curled up on the floor alone, taking a long time to slowly regain the strength to support my body. I struggled to the wall, leaning against it, holding my breath as I stepped onto the scale. In the weak morning light, I felt the slightly slack skin around my waist. In the mirror, I pressed hard against my cheeks. As if, with enough pressure, I could peel back the smooth skin and glimpse the ugly red blotches from years ago. A shift in the light, and the faint redness in the mirror vanished. I was so much thinner, so much prettier than back then, yet still, I couldn’t catch his eye. I blinked, forcing back the burning in my eyes, and irritably tossed the hormone medicine bottle back into the depths beneath the bed. James hadn’t come home for days. I stared at the steaming dishes on the table, watching the heat slowly dissipate, a hollow ache spreading in my chest. “Mr. Osmond is busy with a new medical acquisition, Mrs. Osmond. Perhaps you shouldn’t wait up?” Liam, his secretary, came to pick up some documents. Seeing me lost in thought at the dining table, he finally couldn’t help but offer a word of advice. I slowly turned my head, habitually clasping my left wrist, my voice a little shaky. “She… did she pass away from illness?” Liam looked uncomfortable. “Please don’t put me in a difficult position, Mrs. Osmond.” I lowered my head, not pressing further. His deceased beloved was his biggest taboo—unquestionable, unexplorable. Ever since James’s marriage to me, with the help of the Sterling family, he had completely shifted the group’s focus to medical equipment and biopharmaceuticals. Even if he didn’t say it, anyone could see his obsession and guilt regarding his lost love. “I’ve been simmering this chicken soup for ages. I’ll come to the office with you.” Years ago, whenever he visited me at the hospital, he would bring a bowl of chicken soup if he had time. Made with ginseng and astragalus, it was a little bitter. Now that I was making it myself, I realized how much effort it took. The chicken had to be plucked, gutted, blanched to remove impurities, then simmered over low heat for two or three hours, never leaving its side. I wondered how he managed to do all that while attending classes. Now that I could get up and cook, I wanted him to taste it. I also just wanted to see him. Liam hesitated several times, but eventually let me into the car. At the office, Liam swiped me into the elevator, then rushed off to the conference room, clutching his documents. The moment the elevator doors opened, a bright, captivating figure seared my vision. The woman wore a perfectly tailored red strapless gown, her skin like snow, her figure graceful, as she spoke softly to someone nearby, a smile playing on her lips. Hearing the movement, she turned her head slightly and our eyes met. My breath hitched. It was Scarlett Rivers. I would never mistake her. Years ago, when James volunteered at the hospital, she would always follow him, wearing pretty dresses, her laughter clear and bright. Her affection was radiant and bold, her pursuit uninhibited and frank. A stark contrast to me, then, swollen with hormones due to my severe illness, my face covered in red blotches, lying in bed, feeling utterly mortified. “Hello? Are you looking for Mr. Osmond?” She smiled gently, her gaze sweeping over my slightly oversized top and dull, yellowish hair, her tone still perfectly polite. I stood frozen, my fingers unconsciously curling, tightening around the handle of the insulated container. “I… came to drop something off.” “Oh, I see.” She nodded understandingly, her voice still soft, but with a natural, almost proprietorial air. “Mr. Osmond is still in a meeting. You might have to wait a while.” Her gaze returned to my face, as if she suddenly remembered something, and the corners of her lips curved into a perfectly appropriate smile. “Oh, forgive me, I got carried away talking.” “There’s a gala tonight, and Mr. Osmond has high standards for his date. We couldn’t find anyone more suitable on such short notice, so I’m stepping in as a temporary replacement. This outfit is also just put on; I hope it’s not too inappropriate.” Date. High standards. Temporary replacement. These words, like tiny needles, pricked at the most vulnerable spot in my heart. 3 A familiar, dull ache, triggered by emotional turmoil, spread from deep within my knee. I instinctively took half a step back, my spine pressing against the cold wall just to stay upright. The moment I averted my gaze, I suddenly caught my reflection in the nearby floor-to-ceiling window. My face was pale, my oversized top barely concealing my slightly rounded stomach, a result of the hormones. My hair was loosely tied back, dry and yellowish. It was a laughable, tragic contrast to the radiant Scarlett Rivers before me. In that instant, my indignation deflated, and my sense of grievance lost its foundation. Yes, of course. Wasn’t it only natural that he would choose to bring her? What right did I have to feel wronged? I stared blankly out the window as night fell, the streetlights a blur of endless traffic. A car emerged from the distant darkness, then gradually disappeared into the deeper night. The world seemed muted, pressed into silence, leaving only the blurry reflection on the glass, an expression I hadn’t even realized was there – a blankness, a fragile intensity born of pain. When I looked back, James had appeared, standing not far away. He watched me, his eyes swirling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher, a profound sadness. But the moment I looked back, bewildered, a startled shock flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by icy anger. His probing gaze locked onto me again, his eyes as cold and deep as a dark pool. “Is Sterling Enterprises so powerful that you even investigated her habits and expressions?” “Or do you think climbing into my bed changed your status?” I panicked, suddenly straightening up, the sharp pain in my knee causing me to stumble for a moment. I hurriedly clutched the chicken soup, stammering an explanation: “No, no, I didn’t investigate.” “I just cooked some chicken soup for you, wanted to bring it for you to taste.” “It simmered for two hours…” Under his cold, disdainful stare, my voice trembled, eventually trailing off into a meek silence. He sneered, his tone laced with ice. “Hah, chicken soup?” “Then why, of all things, did you choose to bring me chicken soup?” “I’m sorry, I, I didn’t know you and her, I just, I just…” I was flustered, words stuck in my throat. Just what? That I’m thinner and prettier now, so I want to pursue you again? But even with my illness controlled, I was only better-looking than before. Could I ever compare to the woman who held his heart? I silently closed my mouth, lowering my eyes, not daring to look at him. He strode closer, the silent pressure instantly filling the air around us. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, his voice suddenly dropping, laced with an incredulous, furious rage: “You even found out the exact brand of shower gel she liked?!” “I didn’t! I don’t know…” I was frantic and incoherent, my left wrist starting to throb and tremble with nerves. “The one at home ran out, I just bought whatever was handy…” “Silence!” He almost roared, his jawline taut, his eyes swirling with extreme sorrow and pain. “You are not worthy to speak of her!” “And you are not to investigate her!” “And you are certainly not to imitate her!” “I told you, what we have is just a transaction!” “You’re to discreetly uphold the title of ‘Mrs. Osmond,’ who gave you the audacity to desecrate her like this?!” I’d been married to him for two years, and though he disliked me, he’d always been distant and polite. His furious reprimand felt like the final straw, breaking my already taut nerves. My heart felt as if it had been seized, a violent pain exploding and spreading. My left wrist suddenly gave way, unable to hold the insulated container. The scalding chicken soup splashed onto the floor, splattering my calves, stinging with a searing burn. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I knelt awkwardly, my right hand pressing fiercely against my uncontrollably trembling left wrist. Tears streamed down my face, silently, like a broken dam. Apologizing for repeatedly intruding on his raw, bleeding wound. Apologizing even more for this infatuation and insistence that was destined to be futile. My voice caught in a sob, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I’ll clean it up.” He looked at my huddled, trembling figure, a flicker of something complex in his eyes, but it was quickly masked by an even deeper coldness. He bent down, stopping me from reaching for the spilled container. His eyes held a mix of weariness and disgust. “What exactly are you doing now, looking like this?” His voice had regained its calm, but it was even more cutting. “Trying to win my sympathy?” I bit down hard on my lower lip, shaking my head desperately, but choked too much to make a sound. “You better not be.” 4 Scarlett quietly approached, her face a picture of perfectly calibrated concern with a hint of awkwardness: “Mr. Osmond, we need to leave for the gala.” He flung my hand away, coldly dropping a command: “Have Liam take her home.” “And from now on, don’t let her up here without my permission.” “Understood.” Scarlett replied respectfully, her gaze at me filled with a hint of mockery and taunt. In the news conferences that followed in the next few days, Osmond Industries once again successfully expanded its footprint in the medical field. And always behind him, you could see that dazzling figure. Scarlett Rivers, smiling brightly, her demeanor poised, handled every challenging question from the media. A bold reporter pushed to the front, asking sharply: “Rumor has it you’ve been married to the Sterling heiress for years, yet recently you’ve been attending galas with your assistant. Does this confirm the rumors of your marital discord?” Scarlett tried to intervene, but James raised a hand to stop her. His eyes darkened slightly, his cold gaze fixed on the camera: “It’s true that the Sterling heiress and I are incompatible. We’ve decided to divorce.” His tone was calm and resolute, yet every word was a knife plunging into my heart. The knitting needles for the scarf in my hands tangled, and a needle sharply pricked my fingertip. A bead of blood instantly welled up, staining the yarn. But I was lost in a daze, staring at the screen. Not until the night swallowed the last ray of twilight did I quietly put away my knitting. Silently waiting for him to come home, for the final declaration. That wait stretched for three months. Initially, I just felt unusually tired and drowsy, often falling asleep on the sofa without warning. My body became alternately hot and cold, and my limbs and cheeks began to swell, leaving deep indentations when pressed. What terrified me most was the reappearance of the familiar, butterfly-shaped red rash on my face, growing more vivid by the day. The appearance I had so painstakingly maintained was visibly crumbling, reverting to my most mortifying state from years ago. I frantically rummaged under the bed for my pills, attempting to belatedly control it. But my body felt out of control, plummeting towards an abyss. My joints became unbearably swollen and painful; I couldn’t even hold a water glass. Until one morning, a wave of nausea struck without warning. I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting until I was dizzy, seeing stars. The nausea and dry heaving became more frequent. I often spent entire nights hunched over the toilet. Not from vomiting, but because my joints were so severely swollen and painful that I couldn’t find the strength to even lean against the wall. It wasn’t until my abdomen visibly rounded and my period was long overdue that I belatedly realized. I might be… pregnant. A tidal wave of panic overwhelmed me. This child was coming at the worst possible time. And I couldn’t bear another round of pain and humiliation. I realized that for the sake of the baby, I had to escape! I gritted my teeth, enduring the pain as I packed my luggage. I staggered as I pushed open the door, only to come face to face with James, who had finally returned from his business trip. He looked travel-worn, his eyes pausing, a flicker of confusion. Then those probing eyes sharpened, locking onto mine. I flinched, my heart threatening to leap from my chest, but I quickly calmed myself. I was two sizes larger than three months ago, bloated and almost back to my former state. My face was also wrapped in a thick scarf, revealing only my eyes, so he shouldn’t recognize me. I lowered my head, silently quickening my pace, trying to slip past him. But he suddenly grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. His usually stern voice was now hoarse and broken, even tinged with an unbelievable euphoria and a careful, pleading tone: “Is that you? Violet?” “You’re not dead, are you? You’ve finally come to find me?”

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After the premiere, I realized my girlfriend, Chelsea, was gone. I searched the whole venue with a glass of champagne in hand, finally hearing her on the phone in the fire escape. She was saying that the film was custom-made for her, guaranteed to win her the Best Actress award. She also mentioned that she’d reveal the person’s identity during the Best Actress nominations next month. And she specifically stated that tomorrow she would sign a contract for the next project with them, believing that once the contract was secure, they wouldn’t dare cause trouble. I leaned against the wall, listening to the entire conversation. It was then I understood. I was just her stepping stone, a director with resources who didn’t even demand a salary. The next day, she sent a playful voice message as usual, asking if I’d finished writing the script for her next movie. I compiled all the breach of contract clauses from her business agreements into a PDF, added that recording, and sent it to her talent agency. After that, I sent her a text. 1 Less than ten minutes later, Chelsea burst through the door. Her voice was frantic. “Kris, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” I scoffed. “I really didn’t know you were capable of two-timing me while we were supposedly in a relationship.” Chelsea and I went to the same university. I directed a film in my freshman year that instantly hit big, turning me into a prodigy director. Chelsea, though pretty, wasn’t particularly outstanding in the sea of beauties at the film academy. I didn’t know her back then. In my junior year, I was at the library gathering material when it suddenly started raining. She offered me an umbrella. “Mr. Thorne, please take my umbrella.” I was aloof with everyone back then and took a step back. “No, thank you.” Chelsea smiled. “Mr. Thorne, you’re quite famous on campus; of course, I wanted to meet you.” “But to get to know you, and even help you, I think that’s rather nice.” She pointed to the camera on my body. My life had always been full of pretense, and it was the first time I’d encountered someone so genuine. Before long, we knew each other. A year ago, Chelsea pulled me close. “Kris, I know I’m not good enough for you, but I really like you.” At that time, I also had a soft spot for her, pretty and sweet as she was, and accepted her confession. Later, knowing she wanted to be a big star, I personally wrote three scripts for her. As expected, her first film was an instant hit. Now, her second film was a box office smash. Unless something went wrong, she would be nominated for Best Actress in a month, becoming the youngest Best Actress ever. But I never imagined what happened yesterday would occur. Chelsea’s face was pale. She grabbed my hand. “Kris, let me explain.” “He’s like an older brother from my hometown. If it weren’t for him, I might not have even gone to college. He’s my benefactor.” I shook off his hand. “And? What does that have to do with me?” She looked at me with a hint of judgment. “You’ve been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, getting whatever you want. Of course, you don’t understand the struggles of people like us from the lower class.” “If I can become Best Actress, he can leverage my name to stay in this industry and get decent opportunities.” “Since I’m with you, I definitely intend to marry you. I’m just helping him out. You’re a man, why are you so petty?” Her words struck me as utterly ridiculous. She was my girlfriend, planning to announce she was with another man. Everyone in the industry knew about our relationship. She was essentially trampling my reputation underfoot. And now she was accusing me of being petty. I scoffed, shaking off her hand. “I don’t want to argue with you. Let’s break up.” 2 “And as for the script for the third film, you can forget about it.” “I’ll find someone suitable.” I didn’t want to look at her anymore and turned to leave. Chelsea suddenly sneered. “Don’t even think about it. The female lead for your third film will definitely be me.” I frowned and looked at her. She pulled out her phone and waved it in front of me. “Your company has already signed a contract with mine. Are you trying to breach it?” I suddenly remembered. Today was the day to renew the contract for Chelsea’s third film. I should have called the company to tell them not to renew. But Chelsea’s sudden arrival had disrupted my plans. I gritted my teeth. “Fine. I’ll pay the penalty.” No matter what, I couldn’t stand being around someone like her. Chelsea chuckled. “Don’t bother. Both companies have already made official announcements. If you unilaterally breach the contract now, what do you think the netizens will say?” “I’m not an unknown actress anymore. Now I’m a front-runner for Best Actress.” Chelsea’s eyes gleamed with triumph. Her expression made her seem like a stranger to me. I felt as if I had never truly known her. My chest felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer. I had been genuine with her; otherwise, I wouldn’t have used every resource to pave her way. The door was pushed open again from the outside. Kevin Stone walked in, wrapping an arm around Chelsea’s waist right in front of me. “Director Thorne, you once refused to cast me in your films. I bet you never thought you’d become my stepping stone, did you?” Seeing his face, I suddenly remembered five years ago. That was my first film. Kevin was an investor’s pick, shoved into the cast. Initially, I tried to tolerate him out of respect for the investor. But his acting was simply abysmal. I’d rather forgo the investor’s funding than let him ruin my character. Later, I replaced him with a new actor. That new actor became a sensation in the film, instantly rising to become an A-list star. I never expected Kevin Stone to be Chelsea’s boyfriend. My gaze fell on Chelsea. “So, you’re not hiding it anymore?” Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “Eventually everyone will know Kevin is my boyfriend. Knowing sooner or later makes no difference.” “Besides, I’m a Best Actress, an actress, not an idol. I’m allowed to date.” I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “You’re that confident you’ll win Best Actress?” Chelsea straightened her back. “The impact of my two films isn’t just national, it’s global. In the entire industry, no one can snatch it from me. If not me, then who?” “Even if you tried to rig it, my fans would see it as a conspiracy and wouldn’t stand for it.” Kevin chuckled. “Director Thorne, thank you for paving the way for us. When we reach the top, we’ll definitely remember your generosity.” Chelsea looked at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t break my promise. I’ll still marry you.” I just felt disgusted. My fists clenched tightly. She thinks she’s guaranteed Best Actress, doesn’t she? Well, we’ll see about that. 3 Early the next morning, before dawn, I left my place. When my car pulled up outside Scarlett Reed’s apartment, I cut the engine and sat there for a while. I couldn’t put my finger on the feeling, just a knot of frustration in my chest that I couldn’t seem to release. I went upstairs and knocked on her door. Scarlett opened the door in her pajamas, her hair a mess. The moment she saw me, she froze. “What are you doing here?” She instinctively took half a step back, a hint of awkwardness in her eyes. She was actually the female lead in my first film. Later, when her career was booming, she confessed her feelings for me. But I had already met Chelsea by then and turned her down. Since then, Scarlett had kept a low profile, rarely taking on acting roles. But I knew she was incredibly talented. And she had a huge fanbase; whenever she appeared, audiences would respond. There was another very important thing. There was still a film we co-produced that hadn’t been released yet. I didn’t beat around the bush. “Scarlett, I need your help.” Her expression shifted several times, finally leaning against the doorframe, looking at me with complicated eyes. After about ten or fifteen seconds of silence, she stepped aside, letting me in. “Come in and talk.” When I left, she stood at the doorway watching me go. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she would help me. Not because she was generous, but because some debts, sooner or later, had to be settled. Chelsea said no one could be her competitor, didn’t she? But she forgot. It was she, Chelsea, who had brutally pushed Scarlett out of the Best Actress spot back then. She’d sat on that throne for too long. It was time to repay the debt. I got home around two in the afternoon. As I pushed open the door, I saw Kevin Stone wearing my pajamas, holding Chelsea, his head buried in her neck. I frowned. “What are you two doing?” Seeing me, Chelsea calmly adjusted her clothes. “You’re back?” “We were just rehearsing. In the next project, we’re playing a couple. You’re a director yourself, you know this is perfectly normal in our line of work.” Kevin looked at me with blatant provocation. I suppressed the rage burning in my chest. “You two dogs, get out of my house!” Chelsea stared at me. “Do you have to make things so ugly?” I gritted my teeth. “Get out!” But Chelsea picked up a property deed from the table and tossed it at my feet. “This is my house. You’re the one who needs to leave!” I looked at the property deed at my feet. Chelsea’s name was on it. Last month was Chelsea’s birthday. She sat in my lap, her arms around my neck. “Kris, I know you love me very much, but you know, in our industry, love is so fleeting.” “I really feel very insecure.” I held her, making a significant decision. I transferred all the properties under my name to her. Including this one, the house I bought with the money from my first successful film. I never imagined that one day she would kick me out of my own home. I was packing my suitcase in the room. Chelsea walked in. “I didn’t want you to leave.” I looked up at her. “Then tell Kevin to leave the house now.” She frowned. “Why are you so obsessed with him?” “I already told you, he’s my benefactor. I can’t be ungrateful. Since you’re my boyfriend, you should be thankful to him too!” My voice was cold. “We’ve broken up. I’m not your boyfriend. He is.” The thought of being with this kind of woman for so many years, wasting so many resources, just made me sick. I picked up my suitcase and walked out. Chelsea’s voice came from behind me. “If you walk out of this house today, then we are truly over.” “I’m telling you, I’m about to become Best Actress. You’ll definitely regret this.” I carried my suitcase, not even turning around. I wouldn’t regret it. As for Best Actress, she wasn’t guaranteed to get it. 4 I took my luggage straight to the film set. After discussing it with Scarlett, within a couple of days, I scheduled the unreleased film for screening. Though the timing was rushed and there was no publicity. But because I was the director. And Scarlett’s acting skills were well-recognized in the industry. On opening day, while it couldn’t compare to Chelsea’s box office, it still performed well. That day, Chelsea called. “Kris Thorne, I think you’re truly insane, ruining your own reputation.” “Your new film’s box office today isn’t even a third of your usual. Aren’t you panicking?” I scoffed, hanging up on her. I knew Chelsea well; she definitely hadn’t seriously watched the movie. Over the next two weeks. The film’s box office kept climbing, already surpassing Chelsea’s second film and quickly catching up to her first. I was just finishing up on set when Chelsea stopped me. “If you take ‘Chrysalis’ offline now, I might consider not breaking up with you.” Still so high and mighty. Without me, she wouldn’t be where she was today. How could she possibly think I’d be unwilling to let her go? I pushed her aside. “No way.” Another week passed, and the film became a massive box office hit. Scarlett instantly soared to become a top-tier actress. The film was also nominated for this year’s Best Picture and even garnered a nomination for its educational significance. The international film festival was the next day. Scarlett called me. “I’ve been nominated for Best Actress.” Just as she was about to hang up, she suddenly said: “Check the internet immediately.” I quickly opened my computer. The top trending topic showed ambiguous photos of Scarlett and me. There were also timelines of Chelsea and me entering the same room. Netizens in the know claimed that I had cheated on Chelsea with Scarlett during our relationship. Everyone was cursing me. To everyone’s surprise, Chelsea even posted a veiled comment. [Someone betrayed me, but someone else will love me.] Her fans flooded my comment section. [Shameless! Cheating on our darling Chelsea!] [What an old hag, how could she compare to Chelsea? Pffft!] [This guy has the nerve to be a director? I’ll never watch his films again!] Even all my personal information was dug up. That night. Not only my house, but Scarlett’s house was also surrounded. Chelsea called, her voice triumphant. “The Golden Rooster Best Actress award won’t go to a disgraced actress like her, Kris. You really thought you could succeed? Impossible!” I hung up on her, blocking her number immediately. She wouldn’t think I didn’t have a backup plan, would she?

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Today is my twenty-eighth birthday. My husband went out of his way to buy my favorite mango cake. At the restaurant, a little boy from the next table was egged on by his mother to come over and ask for a slice. I was reluctant, but out of basic courtesy, I gave him a piece. The result was a severe allergic reaction. The boy went into anaphylactic shock and died in the emergency room. His grieving father stormed into my house and stabbed me to death in a fit of absolute rage. Then I opened my eyes, waking up exactly in the moment before I handed that cake over. … 1 The rich, savory scent of sizzling beef and hot oil hit my face in thick waves of steam. The off-key melody of a birthday song scraped against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, making me wince. My grip on my chopsticks tightened until my knuckles turned white. This scene was entirely too familiar. A little boy wearing a bear-patterned vest stood right by our table, singing “Happy Birthday” in a sickeningly sweet, childish voice. Behind him stood a heavily made-up young woman holding her phone. The camera was pointed dead at us. A calculated, artificial smile stretched across her face. “You sang so beautifully, baby. Hurry up and say thank you to the nice lady.” In my previous life, this was the exact moment my heart melted. I had smiled, cut a generous slice of the mango cream cake, and handed it to him. But mere seconds later, the boy broke out in severe hives. He collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, and never made it out of the resuscitation room. I can still vividly remember his father charging into my house with bloodshot eyes. As the fruit knife plunged into my chest, I could hear my husband, Carter, panicking in the background, yelling that it was an accident. I bled out on my living room floor, and the boy’s father was sentenced to death for first-degree murder. “Lady, can I please have a piece of your cake…” The boy looked no older than five or six. He reached out with filthy, greasy hands, his eyes glued greedily to the frosting in front of me. His mother immediately chimed in. “Come on, miss. Look how adorable he is. Just give him a slice. It is not like it is a luxury item. My son is a lucky charm, sharing with him will bring you good fortune.” I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing down the phantom taste of blood rising in my throat. I pulled my lips into a freezing smile. “No.” The air around our table instantly completely froze. The little boy’s hand stopped mid-air. A second later, a deafening, ear-piercing shriek erupted from his lungs. “I want cake! I want the cake!” He threw a massive tantrum, flailing his arms and slamming his hands on our table. The loud clatter of plates and bowls made the customers at the neighboring booths turn their heads in shock. His mother’s face dropped. She lowered her phone and instantly went on the offensive. “What is your problem? It is just a piece of cake. Do you really need to be this petty with a child? You have zero compassion, but I didn’t expect you to be this vicious.” “Vicious?” I thought about my gruesome death, remembering how this exact woman had stood by and gloated while I bled out. I put down my chopsticks and leaned forward slightly. “Number one: I bought this cake with my own money. Giving it away is my privilege, not an obligation.” “Number two: Your kid tries to snatch things he wants. Instead of parenting him, you attack a stranger. Who is the one lacking basic manners here?” “Number three: If I were truly vicious, I would smash this entire cake right into your face right now, just so you could taste what it feels like to be forced into something.” Whispers began rippling through the restaurant. A few people pulled out their phones to record. The woman’s face flushed a deep, humiliating red. Unable to gracefully back down, she literally dropped to the floor and raised her voice to a hysterical pitch. “Everyone, look at this! A grown woman bullying a child on her birthday! She won’t even spare a single slice of cake. She is a total child-hater! A woman this bitter is destined to curse her husband and ruin her own family!” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, watching her throw a pathetic fit on the floor. “Since you are so good at predicting the future, how come you didn’t predict your son almost knocking over a boiling grill pan just now? If he had severely burned someone, could you afford the medical bills? Or did you intentionally let your kid cause a scene just to extort money out of me?” “What the hell are you talking about!” The woman panicked. She scrambled to her feet and lunged forward, trying to shove me. I glanced at my husband, Carter. He was sitting there like a complete bystander, casually watching the drama unfold. A fierce fire ignited in my chest, and I stood up abruptly. I have always been tall, and fueled by pure adrenaline, my towering presence instantly intimidated her. She yanked her outstretched hand back, opting to stand her ground and glare at me with venomous eyes. By this time, a waiter had rushed over to our table. Seeing the staff arrive, the woman seemed to find her courage again. She immediately started crying to the waiter, claiming I was aggressive and unreasonable. She whined about how I bullied them, had no respect for kids, and refused to share a simple slice of cake. She demanded they kick us out of the restaurant. The waiter listened to her dramatic sob story and gave me an awkward look. Seeing the cold fury in my eyes, he turned back to the woman, trying to deescalate the situation. “Ma’am, please calm down. Giving away the cake is entirely up to this customer. We cannot force her to share it, and we certainly have no right to kick a paying customer out.” Hearing the waiter’s verdict, the woman started wailing even louder. “You are all in on this together! You are just bullying us because my husband isn’t here! You are picking on a helpless mother and child!” While she screamed, the little boy stealthily crept closer. He suddenly reached out, grabbing a massive handful of cake, and shoved his hand toward his mouth. I spotted him instantly. I slapped his hand away hard, knocking the cake onto the floor, and grabbed a napkin to ruthlessly scrub his fingers clean until not a single speck of frosting remained. Seeing his prize ruined, he burst into fresh tears and yelled, “You ugly bitch!” “What the hell is going on here!” A tall, broad-shouldered man suddenly charged over, glaring at us. The boy saw him and immediately ran to hug his leg. The moment I saw his face, a phantom ache flared up in my chest where the knife had pierced me. This was Griffin, the boy’s father. He glared at me, cracking his knuckles threateningly. “You dare bully my wife and kid? Believe me, I will knock you out right now!” 2 “What? You think hitting a woman makes you a tough guy?” I did not take a single step back, staring directly into his furious eyes. “Where were you when your son was throwing a tantrum and trying to steal from a stranger’s table? Now you show up to play the big hero? Instead of flexing your muscles, why don’t you teach your son some basic manners and teach your wife how to respect boundaries.” Hearing the word “steal,” Griffin froze. He looked down at the little boy, who immediately lowered his head in guilt. Griffin turned to his wife and asked what really happened. The woman stammered, refusing to give a straight answer. It seemed this man was actually capable of reason. In my previous life, it was highly likely that his wife’s malicious instigation, combined with the blinding grief of losing his son, had driven him to murder. The situation was finally deescalating, but my husband Carter suddenly opened his mouth with a horribly snide remark. “Is your family starving so badly that your son has to beg my wife for scraps?” That single sentence instantly reignited Griffin’s rage. “You son of a bitch, you’re asking for it!” Griffin raised his fist, ready to swing at Carter. “Sir! Please do not fight!” Several waiters rushed over to physically hold him back. The shift manager ran over clutching a menu, plastering a massive, apologetic smile on his face. “I am so incredibly sorry. Your meal is entirely on the house today. Please cool off. Let’s not get violent in front of the child, it sets a bad example.” The couple looked like they wanted to keep arguing, but the manager secretly slipped them a hefty discount voucher and gave them a pointed look. Griffin shot me one last vicious glare before grabbing his wife and kid, walking away while muttering curses under his breath. Once the family was gone, the manager turned to me, bowing apologetically. “I am so sorry, Ms. Song. You are a regular here, and this is the first time something like this has happened. I am comping your table today to make up for the trouble.” Carter and I frequented this place, The Sizzling Grill. The food and service were usually top-notch. I knew this wasn’t their fault, so I nodded at the manager. He thanked me profusely and hurried away. The surrounding customers finally went back to their own meals. My tightly strung nerves slowly relaxed. That brat didn’t eat the cake, which meant he wouldn’t die. I had successfully dodged my gruesome fate. Just as I let out a sigh of relief, Carter’s face darkened, and he started lecturing me. “You went way overboard just now. It is just a piece of cake. What is the big deal about giving it to a kid? Now everyone in the restaurant is treating us like a joke.” I stared at him in disbelief, my heart feeling like it had been pierced by an icicle. “Did you not see how they treated me? If I gave him the cake and something happened to that child, would you take responsibility?” “What could possibly happen? It is just dessert.” Carter waved his hand impatiently. “You are making a mountain out of a molehill. You have absolutely no empathy. I never knew you were this kind of person.” “Empathy?” I laughed, almost letting a tear slip. “Carter, in my past life, I was literally…” I swallowed the rest of the sentence. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. He would probably just think I had lost my mind. “What are you laughing at?” Carter frowned deeply. “I am being serious. What you did today was incredibly ugly. Do me a favor and don’t tell people you are my wife.” His bystander attitude during the fight and his sudden, deliberate provocation of the boy’s father had already filled me with deep suspicion. I didn’t argue. I silently grabbed my purse and stood up. “I am not going home tonight. I am staying at my parents’ house for a few days. You need to take a good look in the mirror.” The moment I mentioned going to my parents, Carter’s tone shifted from arrogant to impatient. “Harper, can you stop being so dramatic? What are your parents going to think if you run home crying? They are going to assume I am abusing you.” I looked at Carter, a wave of profound disappointment washing over me. In a moment like this, he didn’t care about my feelings at all. He only cared about how my parents viewed him! He walked over and wrapped his arms around me. “Baby, please stop making a fuss. I admit I went a little too far with my words today. Just come home with me. There is a huge promotion opening up at my company, and I really need your dad to put in a good word for me.” So that was his real agenda. Carter and I met at work, and his direct superior was my father. Back when he was intensely pursuing me, my friends warned me that he was only after my family’s money and connections. I refused to believe them back then. But looking at his performance today, I had no choice but to reconsider their warnings. I couldn’t let Carter know I was doubting his motives for marrying me. I forced my posture to relax, pretending my anger had faded. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my parents about what happened. I just haven’t been home in a while, and it is my birthday. I want to see them. I will conveniently bring up your promotion to my dad while I am there.” Hearing my promise, Carter kissed the back of my hand. “Thank you, baby. I knew I had the most forgiving wife in the world.” I fought back the urge to vomit and discreetly wiped my hand on my jeans. When I arrived at my parents’ house and pushed the front door open, they were sitting on the couch flipping through my old childhood photo albums. Their faces lit up with pure joy the second they saw me. They hurried over and grabbed my hands. Noticing my silence, my mom asked softly, “Harper, sweetheart, what brings you home so late?” Seeing their loving, concerned eyes broke whatever dam was left inside me. I threw myself into my mother’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. My mom gently patted my back while my dad paced nervously beside us, rubbing his hands together. “What happened? Did Carter do something to you?” Choking back my tears, I gave them a filtered version of the restaurant incident, completely omitting the rebirth part. I simply told them Carter failed to support me. Hearing this, my parents instantly took my side. “You did the right thing, sweetheart! You cannot let people walk all over you! And what is wrong with Carter? Why on earth wouldn’t he stand up for his own wife?” Parents will always be your strongest shield. I remembered when I first announced I was marrying Carter, they strongly opposed it. They felt he wasn’t grounded and had too many hidden motives. But they couldn’t win against my stubbornness and eventually compromised. History proves that if your family warns you not to marry someone, you really shouldn’t. 3 I was the absolute princess of my family growing up. My dad would move mountains to give me whatever I wanted. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how shattered they must have been when they received the news of my brutal murder in my past life. To cheer me up, my parents suggested we go out for dinner at my favorite spot, The Heritage Steakhouse. I am an absolute fanatic for a good vintage grill. Before I got married, this was my go-to place. I brought Carter here a few times after our wedding, but he claimed he hated the smoky atmosphere, so I eventually stopped going. From then on, we only ever ate at The Sizzling Grill near our apartment. Once we got a booth, I pulled out my phone to scan the QR code for the menu. By pure muscle memory, I accidentally logged into Carter’s loyalty account. We shared the same phone number for log-ins, and for convenience, we never bothered changing the password. I didn’t think much of it since using either account to order food made no difference. After ordering, I wanted to treat my parents, so I sneaked away to the front counter to pay the bill in advance. While the cashier was ringing me up, she smiled warmly. “Ma’am, your account currently has enough loyalty points to redeem a cash voucher. Would you like to apply it to tonight’s bill?” I felt a twinge of confusion. The last time I came here was during the holidays months ago. Do points really take this long to expire? I tested the waters and asked, “How much is the voucher worth?” The cashier checked her screen. “You can redeem a two-hundred-dollar voucher. If you apply it, your total tonight will only be one hundred and thirteen dollars.” Her words exploded in my brain like a bomb. Earning a two-hundred-dollar voucher required at least four thousand loyalty points. There was absolutely no way I had spent that much money here. That meant Carter was the one spending it. Panic rising in my chest, I quickly pulled up the account’s transaction history. The moment the records loaded, my blood ran entirely cold. Over the past three months, Carter had dined at this steakhouse fifteen times. Every single receipt was for a romantic dinner for two. The timestamps were mostly on weekend afternoons. Those were the exact times he explicitly told me he was stuck at the office doing mandatory overtime. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. The most recent transaction was from just two days ago at noon. There was even a custom note attached to the reservation: Celebrating our seventh dating anniversary, please prepare table decorations. Seventh anniversary. Carter and I had only been married for five years. It felt like an invisible, icy hand had clamped down on my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Was he having an affair this whole time? Who was she? What were they plotting? “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” My mom noticed something was off and reached out to touch my hand. “Why are your fingers freezing?” “I am fine, Mom.” I shoved the phone deep into my pocket, forcing a composed smile. “The AC in here is just a bit strong. Let’s go eat.” My parents could tell I looked pale, so they spent the whole dinner trying to comfort me. But the premium steak tasted like absolute ash in my mouth. My mind was completely consumed by horrifying images of Carter and a faceless woman. When it was time to settle the bill, I paid the full price out of my own pocket, refusing to use Carter’s account to avoid alerting him. Back in my childhood bedroom, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a video link sent by a friend, accompanied by a viral caption: Watch this heartless woman at The Sizzling Grill! She bullies a child, curses at the mother, and the staff actually takes her side! Who knows who she is sleeping with to get that kind of treatment! Internet, do your thing! Help this poor mother and son get justice! People like her need to be canceled! The video was exactly the altercation from yesterday. The camera angle proved it was filmed by that woman’s phone. It intentionally captured me looking furious and intimidating, while framing her and her bratty kid as pathetic, helpless victims. My friend asked what was going on. She had seen it on her local feed and immediately forwarded it to me, suspecting I was being framed. I briefly explained the truth to my friend, then clicked directly into the woman’s social media profile. I angrily opened the comment section, fully prepared to defend myself against a tidal wave of hate. To my surprise, the top comments were actually incredibly rational: This mom is acting way too fake. Her kid tries to steal food, and she acts like she owns the place? If I were that girl, I wouldn’t give up my cake either. Stop morally kidnapping people. Did you guys see the dad cracking his knuckles? The girl is lucky she didn’t get assaulted, and now the mom is trying to cyberbully her? The restaurant and the girl in the video should file a police report. This is straight-up defamation! Of course, there was still a massive horde of brainless trolls hurling abuse at me. Even if I posted a detailed explanation right now, without hard evidence, no one would believe me. Right then, my phone chimed with a text message from the manager of The Sizzling Grill. Ms. Song, our restaurant does not tolerate malicious slander that harms our reputation. We have high-definition security footage of the entire argument from multiple angles. If you need it, I can send you a copy immediately. I thanked him profusely and saved the video files to my phone. I needed to use this evidence as a lethal weapon when the time was right. Just as I was about to lock my screen, a brilliant thought struck me. The Sizzling Grill had security cameras. That meant The Heritage Steakhouse definitely had them too. If I went to the steakhouse tomorrow and asked to see their footage, I could absolutely identify the woman Carter was having an affair with. First thing the next morning, I rushed to The Heritage Steakhouse and found the floor manager. “Hi, I had dinner here a few days ago, and I think I dropped a very expensive necklace. Is there any way I could check the security cameras to see if it fell near my table?” The manager asked for the date and table number. I recited the exact details from Carter’s transaction history. He immediately escorted me into the security room. The moment the surveillance footage played on the monitor, my vision went completely black. In the video, Carter was sitting at a romantic window booth. And the woman sitting across from him was Toby’s mother.

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1 My fifteen-year relationship with Molly shattered in a fierce argument about her stubborn refusal to consider marriage. The next day, as a TV reporter, I was assigned to cover a live broadcast from the City Hall registry office. When I interviewed a young man, a random question popped up on the live stream’s comments, dripping with malice: “What’s the cruelest thing your wife has ever said to you?” I was about to skip over this potentially thorny question, but the guy smiled shyly at the camera and answered softly, “She never yells at me. The worst thing she probably ever said was calling me a clumsy idiot when I burned my hand.” He went on to explain that his wife was fourteen years older than him, and she cherished him deeply. She always said he’d been with her since he was so young, and she wanted to spoil him rotten. That’s why he chose his twenty-second birthday to get married. The comments section exploded with “Aww, couple goals!” and I found myself smiling too, ready to offer my congratulations. Just then, a woman walked up and threw herself into his arms, asking intimately, “Honey, what are you talking about?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my blood freezing in my veins. The microphone clattered to the ground with a sickening thud. Because that woman was Molly, my girlfriend. And just last night, she had spat at me, “You have any self-respect? Would you have been my lapdog at seventeen, begging me to be with you? Always paranoid. Hell, I’m the one who suspects you’re seeing other women!” … The moment our eyes met, a flicker of panic crossed Molly’s face, but it quickly settled into a cold calm. She shot me a warning glance, subtly shaking her head. I felt like someone had their hand clamped around my throat, my limbs stiff and useless as I stood rooted to the spot. The young man, ever so kind, picked up the microphone and handed it back to me, a playful grin on his face. “What’s wrong, Anchor? Did my wife’s beauty stun you?” Molly laughed, playfully tapping his chest. “Stop talking nonsense. Let’s go, didn’t you want Japanese food?” He let out a delighted yelp, leaning down to kiss her. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best, babe.” That word, “babe,” pierced my heart without warning, leaving a raw, bleeding wound. How utterly pathetic. Fifteen years with Molly, and I never even had the right to call her that. Seeing me still pale and frozen, the young man grumbled, though his eyes were brimming with amusement: “My wife usually won’t take me because she’s worried I’ll get sick. But since it’s our wedding day, she’s finally letting me go wild. Babe, you know I’m the boss today, right?” Molly didn’t spare me another glance, her gaze tender and affectionate as she looked at him. “Alright, alright, boss. Let’s go.” She took his hand, her steps composed as they walked past me. Not a single hesitation, as if I were nothing more than an irrelevant stranger. A torrent of questions lodged in my throat, like countless needles, pricking me until I bled internally. The cameraman behind me gestured, reminding me the live broadcast was still running. Swallowing back my tears, I hastily ended the segment and hurried after them. Under the young man’s astonished gaze, I articulated each word: “Molly, we’re done.” … On the ride home, I huddled in the corner of the taxi, burying my face in my hands and sobbing uncontrollably. Molly and I had been together for fifteen years. During our poorest days, we squeezed into a leaky basement apartment, sharing a single cup of instant noodles. She’d give me the only egg, while she just drank water to stave off hunger. When winter hit, she’d tuck my hands into her clothes to warm them, shivering herself but never once complaining. I never felt the hardship either. Because she told me we’d work hard together, and when we both made it big, she’d wear the most beautiful wedding dress and marry me in style. I worked for ten years, and waited for five. Finally, I was successful, and she was wealthy. But she married another man. Back home, I started packing my suitcase. Molly must have returned at some point, because every item I put in, she’d pull out. Finally, she grabbed my wrist with a tight grip, kicked over the suitcase, and snarled, her eyes bloodshot: “Ethan, what the hell do you think you’re doing? What’s with all the drama?” Tears welled up instantly, and I clutched my chest in agony, my voice hoarse. “Drama? Molly, you married another man. What am I supposed to stay for? To be your side piece?” Molly collapsed onto the sofa, pulling out a cigarette. She brought it to her lips, then silently snuffed it out. “Ethan, it’s not what you think with him.” “He’s Professor Cohen’s son, Liam. Professor Cohen passed away and entrusted Liam to me. I have to take care of him.” Professor Cohen, Molly’s benefactor. If he hadn’t invested in Molly’s project back then, she wouldn’t be where she was today. I curled my fingers, my eyes closing in numb despair. “So you have to marry him and take care of him for the rest of your life? What about me?” Molly frowned, about to speak. Her phone rang, and her eyes instantly softened. “Liam, what’s wrong?” Liam sobbed into the phone. “Molly, is Ethan still mad? Have you explained it to him? Or maybe I should… Ah!” A heavy thud echoed from the other end. Molly immediately stood up, her voice laced with panic. “Liam, what happened? Don’t scare me.” Liam’s voice trembled. “Molly, I fell. It hurts so bad.” Molly soothed him gently. “Don’t be scared, I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, she grabbed me, her tone brooking no argument. “You’re coming with me. Liam and I will explain everything to you in person.” I yanked my hand back, but Molly dragged me all the way to Liam’s place. What made it even more disheartening was realizing Liam lived just upstairs from me. I couldn’t bear to think about all those nights Molly claimed to be working late or leaving in the middle of the night. Had she been with Liam all along? Molly, her face full of concern, helped Liam out of the bathroom. Liam was naked, pressing himself close against her. Seeing me, his eyes red and swollen, he said: “Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were Molly’s boy… friend. Please don’t fight with her. She’s just being kind and taking care of me.” I said nothing, and his eyes welled up with more tears. Molly snarled. “Ethan, Liam’s talking to you. Can’t you answer him? Do you have any manners?” A sharp ache tightened in my chest. After a long silence, I finally whispered, “I understand.” Liam’s tears turned to a smile, and he tugged at Molly’s sleeve. “Molly, my foot hurts so bad. I think I twisted it.” Molly immediately knelt down, carefully cupping his foot and gently massaging it. “Where does it hurt?” Watching them, I suddenly remembered the time I broke my leg protecting her in a car accident. I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep all night, begging her to put medicine on it. She had impatiently brushed my hand away. “Ethan, you know I’m a germaphobe.” Turns out, her germophobia was just for me. Molly expertly walked over to a cabinet and started rummaging for liniment. The moment she left, Liam’s face contorted into a venomous sneer. “Ethan, why are you such a pathetic loser? Molly and I are legally married. What are you? A side piece trying to stand here?” His voice grew even nastier. “I hear you’ve been with Molly for fifteen years? How sad. All that time and you never even got a marriage certificate. Someone like you, a shameless mooch, should go find a sugar mommy at a club while you still have some looks. Though, I wonder if you can even get it up anymore?” My heart seized, and I angrily looked up. But before I could do anything, he suddenly flushed, slapped himself hard across the face, and collapsed to the floor. “Ethan!” Molly rushed over, shielding Liam in her arms. Liam clutched his face, accusing me through tears. “Molly, I was just apologizing to Ethan, and he suddenly hit me. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you take care of me. I’ll leave, I’ll just leave, okay?” I was shaking with rage. “You’re lying! You clearly—” “Enough!” Molly cut me off coldly, gripping my arm tightly. “Apologize to Liam.” In that moment, the last bit of air I was holding onto in my chest simply deflated. I managed a weak smile, my eyes burning. “Molly, you can’t even see through such a cheap trick? That’s… quite disappointing.” I shook off her hand and walked out calmly. As I watched the elevator indicator lights, I remembered being seventeen. I was cornered and bullied by a group of guys in the hallway. When a kind classmate found us, the ringleader turned the tables, slapping himself hard and preemptively telling the teacher: “Teacher, Ethan hit me.” I was just an ordinary student from a single-parent home, and the teacher, not wanting to get involved, was about to give me a disciplinary notice. Molly was the one who helped me. Dressed in a white dress, she leaned casually against the railing, lazily telling the teacher: “Teacher, you can’t even see through such a cheap trick?” She pulled out a video, proving my innocence. She said, “You follow me from now on, be my little brother, and no one will ever dare bully you again.” The girl’s smile was too dazzling, it captivated my heart. And I followed, for fifteen years. But I never imagined that the boomerang of time, after all its twists and turns, would ultimately strike the one who first wielded it. Back home, I continued packing, but my phone kept buzzing. I picked it up and saw that the clips from today’s live broadcast had gone viral. Someone recognized Liam; he was a moderately popular college blogger. I clicked into the account a netizen had found. His latest post showed him and Molly with their fingers intertwined, a marriage certificate displayed in front of them. “Married my crush of many years, so happy~” I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and scrolled further down. In Liam’s posts, I saw Molly, who never lifted a finger at home, cooking for him with her own hands. I saw her, someone who never ate spicy food, going to the hospital with gastritis after eating spicy meals with him. And then there was the day my father passed away. I was home alone, heartbroken to the point of heart failure. She was away on a business trip and called me after hearing the news. But at the same time, the boy’s post showed: “Wife on the phone while doing it, so hot.” Turns out, the choked voice I thought was her comforting me, was just her gasping while in bed with another man. I sat in the darkness, stunned, all night. Molly didn’t come back until noon the next day. I got straight to the point. “You slept with him, didn’t you? Happy?” Molly paused, mid-shoe change, her face instantly darkening. “Watch your mouth. Liam was crying all night, I was comforting him.” I raised my hand, pointing to the hickey on her neck. “Comforting him in bed?” Molly froze. I then handed her Liam’s social media page. Molly was completely silent. After a long pause, she spoke: “He’s just a kid, posting for fun. Don’t go bothering him. It’s all my fault.” No explanation, no apology. Her first instinct was to protect Liam. Tears instantly streamed down my face. “Molly, don’t you guys feel… disgusting?” Seeing my tears, Molly was about to embrace me, but her face darkened when she heard my words. She scoffed. “Clean? You think you’re clean? Ethan, you’ve been with me all these years, circling me like a lapdog. I told you to get a vasectomy, and you went right away. You’re infertile now, a cripple. At least Liam isn’t like you; he’s young, vibrant, whole!” “You forgot how you begged me like a dog to protect you back then. You think if you leave me, anyone out there will want you? Who would ever care about a rotten person like you?” I stared at her, an extreme sorrow washing over me even before anger could. At eighteen, we first experimented with intimacy. Two clueless individuals, fumbling through it, supporting each other every step of the way. Later, through those difficult years, I stood by her. She said she didn’t want children, and I, without a second thought, got a vasectomy. The inability to ever have children, it was the deepest pain in my heart, and I thought she’d be touched. But now I knew, in her eyes, I was a cripple, a useless man. I stared blankly at the face I had loved for fifteen years, suddenly wondering when she had become so… rotten. The girl in the white dress, she had truly died completely in my heart. Realizing she’d spoken out of turn, a flicker of regret crossed Molly’s eyes, but she was interrupted by a phone notification. She glanced at it, and her face instantly turned ashen. Molly lunged, viciously seizing my throat and kicking me to the floor. “Ethan, don’t think I won’t hurt you just because you’ve been with me for years. If anything happens to Liam, I’ll make you pay for it!” Seeing my stunned expression, she slammed her phone onto my face. “Look what you’ve done!” On the screen, my name glared back, every word accusing Liam of being a homewrecker. The language was vicious, sickening. Liam, unable to withstand the online bullying, was now on a rooftop, threatening to jump. I stared at her, my voice trembling. “You think I posted that?” Molly’s eyes were ice cold. “Who else would it be? How could you be so evil? Using such a despicable tactic against a kid.” She stood up, looking down at me. “I only planned to take care of Liam for a while, grant a few of his wishes, and then marry you. But now, I’ve changed my mind.” “Ethan, you will pay the price.” She slammed the door shut as she left. My chest felt like it was being ripped open, making it hard to breathe. I forced myself to go to work. The moment I arrived at the TV station, my boss called me into his office. “You’re fired. Get out.” I stood frozen, my mind a blank. Walking out of the building, the streets were filled with strange, judgmental stares. Before I could even process it, my phone was bombarded with messages. Molly had posted a statement online, accompanied by her marriage certificate and a forged psychiatric evaluation report: “Liam and I are married. Ethan was merely a childhood acquaintance. He’s mentally unstable, and out of old affection, I continued to look after him, never imagining he would slander my husband.” The entire internet erupted in condemnation. “A mentally ill person working as an anchor? How disgusting. People treat him as a friend, he treats them as his wife.” “Delusional, truly terrifying.” “Wow, his information has been dug up. He bullied others in high school. Such a rotten person trying to latch onto CEO Molly.” I stared at the news on my phone, filled with twisted truths, and felt my vision go black, collapsing heavily to the ground. When I opened my eyes again, Molly had me confined. Until Liam came knocking.

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My mom once dumped the richest man in our city. Eight years later, I beat up the billionaire’s son, and my teacher forced my mom to kneel and beg for mercy. The billionaire pushed open the door: “I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you’re f***ing kneeling to someone?” “Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?” 01 I never had a dad, and I’d never met any relatives. It was always just my mom and me. She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late. So she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, to set an extra plate for me when she cooked dinner for her granddaughter. Of course, it wasn’t a free meal. My mom paid Mrs. Miller every month. But Mrs. Miller would take that money, turn around, and buy me milk and fruit. She often sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her. I nodded, and she praised me for being such a good girl. Honestly, I just felt that if I was a little better behaved, my mom’s life would be a little easier. At school, I was the most invisible student in the class. I paid attention in class, but I never stood out. My classmates sometimes called me a “little mute” because they thought I didn’t like talking. Actually, I just liked eavesdropping on their conversations. The most common topic for third graders was their families. Some kids would even tell everyone about their dad’s hemorrhoids or their mom fighting off mistresses. There was a boy in my class named Leo Vance. He was a new transfer student, and he was always complaining about his CEO dad. He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower. He said his dad had no time for him, and usually, it was just the driver and the nanny at home. He said his dad only cared about money, and for his birthday, he just had his secretary pass along a black Amex card. … In short, he didn’t like his dad. But I envied him for having one. I don’t know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Leo the most. Because I didn’t have a dad, and rumor had it, Leo didn’t have a mom. In a way, we were the same. While walking in line after school, Leo was complaining about how bad his dad’s cooking was. I couldn’t help but chime in: “The desserts my mom makes are really delicious.” I thought if he just said one thing back, I could bring him some of my mom’s desserts. But Leo turned his head and glared at me fiercely: “What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked at him in confusion. “You’re mocking me for not having a mom, right?” Leo shoved me hard, his face full of hostility. I fell to the ground. While I was still in a daze, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind: “Audrey! Are you blind? You’re ruining the line’s discipline. Get up right now!” I had no choice but to slowly climb up and dust off my clothes. Ever since I spoke to Leo after school, I inexplicably became a thorn in his and his followers’ sides. Every time he walked past my desk, he would pinch my arm through my clothes. If we met face-to-face, he would slam his shoulder into mine. Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a group of lackeys. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere: “Audrey, the little mute. So embarrassing,” and make weird noises at me. I mustered up the courage to tell a teacher. But when I went to Ms. Evans’s office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone, talking to someone. She kept saying “Mr. Vance,” smiling from ear to ear. I stood at the door for ten minutes, but she didn’t even notice me. The bell rang for the next class, English. I had to go back. The English teacher assigned an essay today titled “My Father.” I didn’t know how to start, so I just sat there awkwardly for the entire period. The sky outside was grey, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel heavy. However, Leo was very happy. He told everyone that his dad was coming to pick him up today. When school ended, a torrential downpour started, just as expected. Surprisingly, in the entire huge school, Leo and I were the only ones left waiting. The security guard brought us to the guardhouse. Leo looked terrible. He kept yelling into his smartwatch: “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear any excuses! You have to come pick me up!” Then he put his watch down and started stomping on the floor, “Bang, bang, bang.” I thought he really looked like an angry, unreasonable monkey. I don’t know how long it had been, but the Vance family driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse. “I don’t want you. Where’s my dad?” The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window. The driver awkwardly made a phone call. Not long after, a man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at a leisurely pace. The sky was still gloomy, and the wind was howling outside. Even though the umbrella shielded his face, you could tell the man had an upright, straight posture, possessing a calm composure that feared no storm. Leo had already jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and sprinted into the man’s arms. The man extended a hand, firmly grabbing Leo by the collar. It was a pair of hands that looked powerful and reassuring—wide palms with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like the kind of hands a dad should have. The man set Leo down, held the umbrella with one hand, and tilted most of it toward Leo’s side. Then, without mercy, he smacked the back of Leo’s head. That crisp smack sounded like someone thumping a watermelon. I stared, a little dazed. Leo didn’t mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and flashed me a smug, gloating smile. “Poor little thing.” He mocked me with a funny face. “Keep waiting by yourself!” 02 I simply stayed in the guardhouse. I had almost finished all my homework by the time the storm stopped. The security guard, Mr. Lee, even shared his dinner with me—a basket of delicious steamed buns. After thanking him, I walked back to the apartment I rented with my mom. I did a quick mop of the floor and read “The Magic School Bus” before my mom finally came home. The bedroom door was pushed open, and my mom peeked half her body in with a beaming smile: “Baby, why aren’t you asleep yet?” My eyes immediately zeroed in on her other arm, which she was hiding behind the door. “Mom! You hurt your left hand?” She scratched her head: “You’ve got sharp eyes, kid. 20/20 vision, I see.” I asked her what happened. “Something fell on it at work,” she sighed. “It’s fine now, but I can’t use my left hand for a couple of weeks.” “Can you rest at home for these two weeks?” I asked tentatively. “What kind of capitalist has that kind of heart? Give you a few weeks off, do you still want to keep your job?” I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset. “Ta-da! Look what I have here!” My mom suddenly raised her voice and quickly brought out a roast duck and a can of beer she had been hiding behind her back to distract me. “This is a gift from my stingy boss.” “Were you planning to eat it all by yourself?” I asked quietly. She scratched her cheek: “Am I that kind of person?” I had to help her recall the times after I fell asleep when she hid in the living room drinking boba, eating BBQ, and watching TV shows… Under the dim light, we shared the roast duck. I suddenly remembered seeing Leo’s dad today, so I asked softly, “Mom, what kind of person was my dad?” I knew my mom didn’t like talking about my dad. But after a moment of silence, she actually started telling me: He had a bad temper, spent all his time working, and only knew how to solve problems by throwing a black Amex card at them… “What did he look like? Were his hands big?” “Pretty big, and he was quite tall.” My mom burst out laughing. “Why are you asking this?” I wanted to hear more, but my mom’s voice went flat: “Kid, knowing this won’t do you any good. He’s already dead.” I could only look at her eagerly and ask one last question: “Did my dad love me when he was alive?” She stroked my head and said softly, “Go to sleep, baby.” I don’t know why, but I felt like she looked sad even while smiling. The next day, I got to school early and started writing the essay I hadn’t finished the day before. When I handed it in, Mr. Davis actually used mine as a model essay and read it out loud in front of the whole class. My Father My father often keeps a straight face, always looking unhappy. My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side. My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come pick me up from school. His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, able to shield my mom and me from all the storms in the world… After school, Leo found me, his face burning with anger: “You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad.” He reached out to push me. I quickly ran back, but he caught up instantly, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: “Thief!” I suddenly got angry and shoved him hard. Actually, I was already taller and stronger than him. He fell to the ground, his face instantly turning black, and started cursing at me. I had never heard such vicious words before! Old grudges and new resentments piled up. Not only did I not let him go, but I sat on him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat. By the time I snapped out of it, Ms. Evans had already rushed into the classroom. She screamed, pulled me off Leo, and held him close, comforting him for a long time. Leo pretended to cry for a bit, then said dramatically: “Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I’ve always thought of you as a mom. I only have you, boo hoo hoo.” Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: “Audrey! Right now, immediately, call your mother to come to the school!” 03 “Does your daughter have violent tendencies?” Ms. Evans’s voice was shrill. “Look at what she did to Leo!” Leo immediately let out a few groans, pretending to be in a lot of pain. Ms. Evans spoke gently to him: “Be a good boy, Leo. I called your dad, he’ll be here soon.” My mom, with her left arm in a cast, was still wearing the green vest from the convenience store and a cheap hat with the store’s logo. She seemed to have rushed over, her bangs blown into a mess. She glanced at me and said anxiously, “Audrey is usually very well-behaved. She wouldn’t hit someone for no reason.” Ms. Evans raised her voice: “Are you saying I’m falsely accusing your daughter?” “That’s not what I mean,” my mom said quickly. “I just want to hear the children explain what happened.” “Audrey,” Ms. Evans turned to me coldly, “Tell me yourself, what did you do wrong?” I stubbornly kept my mouth shut. Ms. Evans seemed infuriated. “Fine, if you won’t say it, I will.” “You don’t follow discipline when lining up.” “The other students don’t like you. You have no ability to integrate into the group.” “And now you’ve even learned to beat up your classmates.” “Just now when I asked you, you didn’t say a word. You’ve learned how to be deceitful too.” “Let me ask you, do you even respect me as your homeroom teacher?” My mom looked at me, her lips moving: “Ms. Evans, there might be some misunderstanding…” Ms. Evans let out a contemptuous smile: “Since you insist on turning a blind eye to your daughter’s mistakes, I have nothing more to say.” She slammed her thermos onto the desk. “I can’t teach her. You should find a better teacher. Go ask around and see which homeroom teacher in this school is willing to take her. Transfer her out immediately.” At these words, my mom’s face turned completely white. Although she usually didn’t act like a typical strict mother, she was very serious about my education. Usually, if I scored below an 80 on a test, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a spanking. Not to mention, education had always been more important than life itself to her. “No, please.” My mom panicked, begging her, “Ms. Evans, please give Audrey another chance. She’s young, she doesn’t know any better.” Ms. Evans turned her head, snorted coldly, and faced the wall. My mom continued to beg bitterly, saying everything she could to appease her. But no matter what my mom said, Ms. Evans just told her to find someone else to take me. But in a school, which homeroom teacher would accept a student another teacher rejected? “Please have a little mercy.” My mom raised her injured arm. “I promise I will properly discipline Audrey when we go home. Please don’t give up on her.” Ms. Evans turned back, but still picked at her: “How can I trust you?” My mom paused, as if making a firm decision: “Ms. Evans, I work long hours and don’t have time to pay attention to Audrey’s mental state. She’s always alone, and there’s no one to teach her right from wrong.” It was the first time I saw my mom speak so seriously. I stared at her blankly. My mom gripped the armrest of a chair and slowly knelt down, pleading once more: “Ms. Evans, the person at fault is actually me, her mother. I didn’t raise her well; it’s not Audrey’s fault. Please, give her another chance.” After she spoke, her usually thin, straight shoulders slumped deeply. I stared at her in shock. This woman, who was usually always joking and informal, was my mother; this woman, kneeling on the floor, humbling herself and begging the teacher not to abandon me, was my mother; this woman, who taught me to be an upright person and to study hard, was my mother… A hard life had never crushed her, but at this moment, she surrendered her dignity for my sake. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I immediately hugged her shoulders and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Mom, it’s not your fault.” I had never felt such intense regret for doing something. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I felt my heart breaking into pieces. Ms. Evans also seemed startled. She lowered her voice: “I didn’t mean…” “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans,” I cried too. “I promise I’ll never hit anyone again.” Amidst the commotion, Leo suddenly shouted excitedly: “Dad, you’re finally here.” Ms. Evans jumped, hurriedly pushed us away, bent down, and quickly touched up her lipstick using a small mirror on the desk. The first thing I heard was a cold voice: “Leo, tell me yourself, what kind of trouble did you cause this time?” The office door was pushed open. The footsteps drew closer, and the man’s voice seemed tinged with fatigue and annoyance: “Confess right now, before I have to make you.” I felt my mom’s body stiffen. She turned her head to look, then immediately lowered it, as if she had seen something unbelievable. For a moment, I felt like she wanted to hide under the desk. “Mr. Vance.” Ms. Evans stood up, beaming. “You misunderstand. Today, Leo was the one who was bullied. Don’t be too hard on him.” The man stopped casually behind her: “Bullied by who?” “Her.” Ms. Evans pointed at me, sighing. “There’s something wrong with this girl’s head.” I didn’t dare to argue, I could only turn around, prostrating myself on the floor, and say, “I’m sorry.” The man squatted down. He looked at the bruises on Leo’s face, his tone completely flat: “Got beat up? Does it hurt?” Leo quickly let out a pathetic “Mhm.” The man frowned, but said mercilessly: “Useless.” After criticizing Leo, his sharp eyes swept over me: “A young girl who likes to use her fists. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” Stared down by his dark, gloomy eyes, I almost burst into tears again, so I bit my lip hard. “She really wasn’t raised right,” Ms. Evans quickly added. “I just reprimanded her, and her mom knelt down to apologize. Sigh… Mr. Vance, how do you think we should handle this?” “How should we handle this?” Mr. Vance slowly repeated the words, and anyone could hear the icy tone in his voice. Hearing this, I immediately straightened up, frantically grabbed the hem of his suit jacket, and said: “Mister, I didn’t mean it, I swear, I will never mess with him again.” Mr. Vance looked down at me, suddenly frowning. He pinched my chin with one hand, his gaze even revealing a bit of confusion and bewilderment: “Why do you… look so much like…” He didn’t finish his sentence. After a long silence, he just shook his head: “Ms. Evans, forget it.” Leo started screaming: “How can we just forget it?” “Then what do you want?” Mr. Vance’s tone grew a bit impatient. “I want Audrey to apologize to me in front of the whole class tomorrow.” Leo’s little mouth babbled on. “And last time she mocked me for not having a mom.” Mr. Vance’s face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot, while my mom’s face went completely pale. She secretly glanced at Leo, her eyes a mix of pain and inner conflict. She seemed to want to say something but bit her lip, burying her head even lower, her body trembling slightly. I was a bit worried and quickly squeezed my mom’s hand. “Enough, you little brat,” Mr. Vance raised his hand and grabbed Leo’s collar. “I think you really are asking for a beating.” “Getting beat up by a little girl is embarrassing enough, and you want the whole class to laugh at you?” Ms. Evans seemed surprised that the matter was dropping so easily. She pursed her lips and said: “Since Mr. Vance isn’t pursuing the matter, Audrey’s mom, you should apologize to him.” My mom didn’t say a word, trembling even more violently. Ms. Evans waited, growing impatient: “Audrey’s mom? Does muteness run in your family?” Mr. Vance finally seemed to notice there was a woman kneeling on the floor. He casually turned his head, and with just one glance, he froze. He let go of Leo’s collar and stood up instantly. “I’m sorry,” my mom finally said softly, her head still buried low. The man parted his lips, seemingly using a great deal of effort just to call out a name: “Chloe… is that you?” I didn’t know how he knew my mom’s name. “You have the wrong person.” My mom immediately turned her face away, but her left hand in the cast clenched painfully into a fist, as if she were enduring something. “It is you.” Mr. Vance stared fixedly at my mom, his facial expression a mix of crying and laughing, hatred and joy, his whole face twisting terribly. “Chloe—” He seemed to chew on the name, his eyes glued to my mom. “When did you get back?” My mom turned her head, refusing to meet his gaze. Even Ms. Evans realized something was wrong, her face changing instantly: “Do you know her, Mr. Vance?” “Know her? Far more than that.” He seemed furious, unable to bear it any longer, and pulled my mom up from the floor with one hand. “Eight years since we last saw each other, and you’re this pathetic, ridiculous mess?” “Chloe, I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you’re f***ing kneeling to someone here today?” “Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?” “Get up!” Once my mom was pulled up, she quickly grabbed my hand, as if trying to rush me out of there. But Mr. Vance still firmly gripped my mom’s slender wrist. In front of everyone, this tall, intimidating man’s eyes actually grew red: “Chloe, we haven’t seen each other in so many years, and you won’t even look up at me?” He seemed to realize something and suddenly looked at me: “How old are you?” Inexplicably, I met a pair of eyes filled with disbelief. The owner of those eyes spoke angrily: “Chloe, is she our—” “Audrey is seven this year,” my mom interrupted. “She’s my daughter with my husband. Carter Vance, she has nothing to do with you.” She paused, her voice seemingly suppressing immense pain as she continued: “And you have no right to question me now, whether I’m a beggar or anything else.” I nervously glanced between them. Actually, I’m eight this year. I don’t know why my mom lied about my age. But I figured my mom must have her reasons. After hearing her words, Mr. Vance asked, crestfallen: “You… got married?”

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Seven years into our relationship, Ethan Reed turned our wedding into a divorce ceremony for the third time, making a complete fool of me. This time, I didn’t yell or make a scene. My heart had simply died. Around me, his friends roared with laughter while I stood frozen in the center, my face expressionless. “Haley, why aren’t you laughing? Don’t tell me you’re actually mad?” I said nothing. Gradually, their laughter faded as they exchanged awkward glances. The silence became eerily oppressive. Only then did Ethan press his lips together and step forward to ruffle my hair. “What’s wrong? Haley, are you really angry?” I looked at him, suddenly remembering the conversation I’d overheard last night between him and his friends. “Ethan, aren’t you worried that pulling this stunt will make the Rose of the South actually leave you?” Ethan had answered dismissively, “I promised Vivian I’d mess with Haley three times. After this one’s over, I’ll give Haley a real wedding to make up for it. She’s been with me all these years, after all.” Now, I stared at him quietly and forced my lips into a smile. “A divorce ceremony, right? Let’s continue then.”

“Continue?” Ethan’s casual expression froze, his smile flattening. “Haley Grant, are you serious?” My gaze moved past him to land on the large banner that read “Let’s Get Divorced.” Seven years. Countless moments I’d spent yearning for us to get married, to spend our lives together. But in the end, what I’d been waiting for wasn’t “Let’s get married,” but this absurd prank. The first time I learned Ethan might propose to me, joy and excitement kept me awake all night. When I arrived at the venue in my carefully prepared dress and the curtain was pulled back, my heart shattered along with my hopes. That was the first time I’d ever lost my temper with Ethan like that. He spent a long time trying to calm me down. He promised he’d never pull that kind of joke again. But only three months later, the same thing happened again. That was the second time. The third time is now. My chest felt tight and suffocating. The whole thing seemed pointless. I answered him. “Yes, I’m serious. Let’s finish the ceremony as you wished.” Ethan’s expression darkened completely. He stared at me without speaking. Three seconds later, he suddenly smiled, though his eyes were empty, yet somehow filled with inexplicable anger. “Fine. Then let’s continue.” The crowd that had been mocking me and enjoying the spectacle fell completely silent, standing awkwardly in place. “Did he really screw this up? That shouldn’t happen. Nothing went wrong the first two times, right?” Another girl sneered. “How’s that possible? Everyone knows Haley Grant worships the ground Ethan walks on.” “She was all over him when her family still had money. Now that they’ve fallen, there’s no way she’ll let go.” I looked up at her sharply, my gaze piercing. She immediately fell silent, closing her mouth awkwardly. At that moment, a woman in a red dress stepped forward. “Haley, don’t be angry. I apologize, I…” “What are you apologizing for!” Ethan’s angry voice cut her off as he moved to shield her behind him. I turned to look. It was Vivian Song. Ethan stood between her and me, his voice low and confrontational. “What are you standing around for? Let’s go through with the ceremony.” The guy in charge came up on stage with his script, so embarrassed his scalp was tingling. “Miss Grant, do you willingly separate from Mr. Reed, whether he is rich or poor, with no regrets?” An absurd location, absurd words. And absurd vows that made my chest ache uncontrollably. Ethan stared at me quietly, his thin lips pressed tight, his whole body radiating irritation. “I do,” I said. The moment the words left my mouth, there was a loud bang. Ethan hurled the microphone to the ground, his face dark as he glared at me. “Haley Grant, you’ve gone too far.” I felt drained. An overwhelming bitterness washed over me. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you all arranged? How am I going too far by just going along with it?” He was momentarily speechless. He took several deep breaths, then kicked over a flower arrangement at his feet. He stormed off, pulling Vivian Song along with him. The venue fell deathly silent. The background music happened to switch to: “Happy Breakup, I wish you happiness, you’ll find someone better.” Ethan’s friend quickly turned it off, coughing awkwardly. “Um… Haley, this is our fault. Don’t be angry. Ethan didn’t know about this either.” I ignored him. Whether he knew or not didn’t matter to me anymore. I mumbled an acknowledgment and walked down the red carpet off the stage. When I walked out of the hotel, the sky was gray and overcast, rain pouring down. A black Maybach pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down to reveal Vivian Song’s apologetic face. “Haley, get in. We’ll give you a ride.” My gaze moved past her to the man beside her who hadn’t even looked up. I replied flatly. “No need.” I heard the man snort coldly and give a curt order. “Let’s go.” The water splashed up by the car instantly soaked the hem of my dress. I laughed bitterly and pulled out my phone to make a call. “Attorney Chen, the trust fund my father left—the condition for me to inherit it is to go to America to find Grandfather and never return, correct?” “Yes, Miss Grant. Once you land in America, you can apply for the inheritance.” Watching the taillights fade into the distance, I murmured. “Alright. I accept.”

I returned home soaking wet to find the lights blazing inside. Ethan and Vivian Song were just standing there, looking at me. As if I were the one who didn’t belong. “It’s too late. Vivian’s staying at our place tonight. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” He studied me carefully, his body in a defensive posture. After all, the old Haley Grant, the Rose of the South, would have definitely rushed over and slapped her. But now… I only paused for a second before agreeing casually, “Fine. She can stay as long as she wants.” Before Ethan could furrow his brow, I changed my shoes on my own and headed to the master bathroom to shower. My stomach ached with a dull, sinking pain. When the hot water cascaded down, it was warm, gradually washing away the coldness in my chest. This kind of thing had happened before. The day Vivian Song returned to the country, Ethan had already brought her home. I stood in the living room, staring at the man at the door holding a drunk woman, my mind going blank. “You brought another woman home?” I laughed in disbelief. “Don’t you think you should avoid this kind of thing?” He didn’t even pause. He carried her to the master bedroom and laid her on the bed. My pupils trembled. He turned around on his own and went to the bathroom to wet a hot towel, gently wiping her face. While doing all this, he warned me. “Watch your words.” “Vivian is my childhood friend. She’s going through family troubles right now and feeling down. Stop giving her dirty looks.” I stood in the doorway watching him bustle around, unable to describe what I was feeling. Ethan had severe OCD. He absolutely wouldn’t allow me to come home drunk, reeking of alcohol. Once when I lost control, he had the driver take me to a hotel to book a room. The point was, I wasn’t allowed home. But Vivian Song could break all his rules. My thoughts snapped back as someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Haley, let’s talk after you shower.” The man’s magnetic voice sounded by my ear. I knew this was already him lowering his pride. Still, I didn’t answer. When I came out after showering, he was waiting by the door with a hairdryer in hand. “Sit down. I’ll dry it for you.” I happened to be tired. Why refuse when someone was offering to help? “Let’s just move past what happened today,” his slender fingers threaded through my hair, but they felt cold, icy, “and we’ll make things work.” “Mm, make things work.” Make my own life work. Hearing that, he breathed a sigh of relief, his tense expression gradually relaxing. “Good girl.” In the mirror, I observed those downcast eyes. Ethan had beautiful eyes. When he wasn’t smiling, they were sharp; when he smiled, they curved into crescents. When we first met, I ran into some local thugs at a bar who insisted I go into a private room with them. Back then, before my family’s downfall, I lived like no one in the South dared to cross me, so I hadn’t brought bodyguards. That middle-aged man, emboldened by alcohol, grabbed me by the hair and slapped me hard. “I’m doing you a favor by sleeping with you!” Just as the door was about to close, Ethan appeared. He kicked the man away, then looked down at me with mockery. “You’re usually so arrogant. How are you so pathetic now?” But I wasn’t angry at all. Instead, I fell for him right then. I chased after him for years. The hairdryer stopped, pulling me from my memories. Looking at him again, I realized with surprise that those eyes no longer stirred anything in my heart. “What’s wrong?” Ethan frowned and inexplicably looked away, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. “Nothing.” He was about to say something when the door was pushed open. Vivian Song walked in as naturally as if she belonged there, tugging at the man’s sleeve. “Ethan, can you stay with me?” “You know now that I’m back in England, you’re all I have. I’m a little scared.” Ethan glanced at me, hesitating. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I…” “Go ahead.” He looked at me sharply. Time seemed to freeze for an instant. Then he took a deep breath, as if deliberately trying to upset me. “Fine, then I’ll go stay with her!” I turned around calmly and got into bed on my own. That night, Ethan didn’t come home. And I passed out in my sleep, blood pooling beneath me.

When I woke up again, everything was blindingly white. Ethan sat beside me, hands pressed against his forehead, lost in thought. “What happened to me?” His whole body shuddered. He looked up, his eyes tinged with red. “The baby’s gone. Haley Grant, you were pregnant. Didn’t you know?” My expression froze. I could also hear the accusation in his tone. Just then, the doctor pushed the door open. I asked him, “Why did I miscarry?” He glanced at the medical report. “Habitual miscarriage. Your uterine wall is already very thin, and combined with getting caught in the rain, catching a cold, and developing a fever, miscarriage was inevitable.” Ethan shot to his feet, his eyes trembling. “Habitual miscarriage?” His eyes, filled with a gathering storm, fixed on me. “Haley Grant! Don’t you need to explain this to me?!” The doctor, sensing trouble, quickly distanced himself from the brewing conflict. I looked down, my fingers brushing over my stomach. My chest felt like it was being sliced with a small knife, sharp and painful. When I looked up, my gaze held a trace of hatred. “Explain what? The first baby—you personally had it aborted. The second one was drugged away by your mother.” “Did you think you hid it so well?” “Now, what right do you have to demand an explanation from me?!” His hands clenched into fists. The hospital room fell deathly silent, filled only with the man’s ragged breathing. “You… when did you find out?” “I knew from the very beginning.” When I miscarried the first time, we’d just gotten together. That day, I drank a glass of milk and felt dizzy and faint. Perhaps the dosage wasn’t enough, because my consciousness didn’t fade immediately. I heard the conversation between him and his mother. “Ethan, we can’t keep this baby. We need to devour the remaining shares of the Grant family. We can’t have this kind of complication now.” The man was silent for two seconds, his voice hoarse. “Alright, I understand.” He asked, “Will this abortion pill affect her body badly?” “Not much,” his mother said suspiciously. “Ethan, Vivian’s coming back soon. What are you planning to do? Mom knows you can’t let her go.” For a long time, he didn’t answer. He didn’t deny it either. I kept my eyes tightly shut. I wanted to cry, to confront him, but I couldn’t do either. When I woke up, perhaps out of guilt, Ethan stayed by my side constantly. “We’ll have more children in the future,” he promised. But I kept losing one child after another. My thoughts returned to the present. After I finished speaking, Ethan suddenly looked lost. “Haley, I…” His explanation was interrupted by someone pushing the door open. “Haley, I heard you had a miscarriage. I came to see you.” I collected my emotions and looked up. “Get out.” Vivian Song’s expression stiffened. She hadn’t expected me to be so blunt, leaving her unable to save face. She hesitated in the doorway, neither entering nor leaving. “Haley.” The man’s displeased voice carried a warning, as if his earlier guilt had been just an illusion. I suddenly felt powerless, my spine sagging. “I need to rest. Please leave.” I looked at the man with his brows knitted tight. “Is this attitude satisfactory?” Ethan opened his mouth, wanting to say something but unable to get the words out. Finally, he could only forcefully ignore the unease in his heart. He stepped forward and hugged me. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Haley, when you’re discharged, I’ll officially hold a real wedding for you, okay?” “I’ll make up for everything I owe you.” “Three days from now, okay? I’ll prepare everything. I’ll compensate you properly.” My heart felt nothing. He didn’t wait for me to nod in agreement either. As if afraid of hearing me mock him, he pulled Vivian Song along and left. My phone chimed. It was a text from Attorney Chen. “Miss Grant, due to the typhoon, the earliest flight is at noon three days from now.” “I’ve already booked your ticket. Someone will pick you up in America.” My fingers landed on the screen, typing as if I’d been set free. “Alright. I’ll be there on time.”

That evening, Ethan brought me home. “Drink some hot water.” He sat down beside me, concern seemingly overflowing from his eyes. If only Vivian Song weren’t there. I found it absurd. He went to the balcony to take a call. I don’t know what the person on the other end said, but he glanced at me. That’s when Vivian Song spoke up. “Still not leaving him?” I looked up at her. Her eyes were mocking. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone debase themselves more than you.” “You should know he’s loved me from the very beginning. Even those three times he humiliated you were just because I asked him to.” Hearing that, I found it laughable. “And what about you? No matter who Ethan loves, at least he and I have a marriage certificate.” “What gives you the right to lord it over me?” Vivian Song raised an eyebrow and suddenly laughed out loud. I was confused. But I had an ominous feeling. She glanced at the man on the balcony with his back to us, then suddenly leaned close to my ear. “So you still don’t know.” My lips flattened. My fingers unconsciously tightened on my sleeve. “Know what?” She said softly, yet her words landed like a crushing blow. “Your marriage certificate is fake. It was just something Ethan used to placate you.” “What did you say?” My voice was hoarse. Vivian Song pulled out her phone, opened the marriage registry system, and checked her marital status. Then she held it in front of my face with cold mockery. “Open your eyes wide and look.” My stiff gaze turned toward it. In the spouse column, it clearly showed: Ethan Reed! My mind went blank. Everything was so absurd I couldn’t accept it. My eyes glazed over. I turned around and looked at the man on the balcony, suddenly laughing bitterly. “So it was all fake.” Soon after, he hung up and came back inside. Seeing my expression, he frowned and reached up to touch my forehead. “What’s wrong? Still not feeling well? Why is your face so pale?” I instinctively stepped back. His hand hung in the air. Ethan’s fingers froze. “Rest well. The wedding is in three days.” Three days later, early in the morning, Ethan wheeled a wedding dress into the master bedroom, gently ruffling my hair. “Take a look at the dress first. It’s too heavy, so you’ll put it on at the banquet hall. We’ll go together.” I turned my face away, avoiding his touch. “I’m not feeling well. You go ahead.” He hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Alright. The ceremony officially starts at noon.” Watching his retreating figure, my eyes were full of mockery. I tore up all the photos of us in the house, scattering them everywhere. Thinking of the gift I’d prepared for him at the wedding venue, I laughed coldly. After venting, I removed my SIM card and left without looking back. At the same time, at the wedding venue, Ethan’s mother looked extremely displeased. “Son, what were you thinking? Are you really holding a wedding with her and spending your life together?” “What about Vivian?” Ethan’s heart felt inexplicably heavy, as if something was suspended high above, unable to settle. “Yeah, it’s decided. I’ll make things work with Haley. As for the marriage certificate issue, I’ll handle it without her knowing.” He glanced at the time and asked his assistant. “Go check if Mrs. Reed has arrived yet.” The assistant was about to turn around when the hotel manager burst in, face pale and gasping for breath. “Mr. Reed, something’s happened…” Ethan’s heart sank, his expression instantly darkening like storm clouds. “Speak clearly!” The manager’s voice trembled with fear. “The bridal dressing room… You’d better go see for yourself…” Ethan’s eyes shook. His usually composed face now looked like a storm was approaching. He rushed out and pushed the door open with trembling hands. When he saw what was before him, his breathing stopped.

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