Category: English

My fiancé staged his own death after hiring a hitman, dying in my arms. Since then, I became the widow of a convicted murderer, struggling to survive with our unborn child. I took every dirty, low-paying job imaginable, all to afford the medication for my daughter’s heart disease. On the day she turned three, she had a sudden attack. I collapsed in the hospital hallway, sobbing in absolute despair. That was when I heard Julian’s voice, chatting with another woman nearby. “It’s been three years. Isn’t this a bit too cruel for Chloe? She’s all alone…” My stepsister, Vivian, shrieked in response: “Cruel? She stole my dad’s love! She stole the life that belonged to me for twenty years! I want her to live in guilt forever. I want her to crawl like a rat in the dark, never able to lift her head. Only then will I be satisfied.” After a long silence, Julian sighed and murmured: “Fine. Anything you want. When you feel she has been punished enough, I’ll bring her back.” So, Julian wasn’t dead. All the agony, the starvation, and the terror I went through over the past three years were nothing but a game between them. I slumped against the freezing wall, completely exhausted. Slowly, I reached into my bag and tore every single photo of Julian into tiny pieces. Since they didn’t want me to live in peace, then none of us would.

Today was the third anniversary of his “death.” Three years ago, I wanted to end my life and follow him. But then, I discovered I was pregnant. To keep Julian’s only child alive, I swallowed my tears and forced myself to get through his funeral. I thought Julian’s wealthy family would at least help us, but they kicked me out, calling me a curse who brought death to their son. My own parents thought my unmarried pregnancy was an embarrassment. They completely disowned me. Since that day, my life became a living hell. The families of the hitman’s victims blamed Julian, and they took their anger out on me. They stalked me relentlessly. Every time they cornered me, I would cry and scream the same thing: “Julian is dead! Please, he’s dead!” But they didn’t care. They tried to run me over while I was walking Lily home from preschool. In the dead of night, they splashed blood-red paint on my door, writing “An Eye for an Eye” in giant letters. They even stuffed bloody death threats inside Lily’s favorite teddy bear. Every single day, I lived in constant terror. I moved with my daughter over and over again, but like ghosts, they always found us. On countless nights, I stared at the ceiling, wanting to end it all. But then I would look down at Lily’s sleeping face, bite my tongue, and force myself to keep breathing. Three years. It felt like a lifetime. “Where is the patient’s mother?” Dr. Carter’s voice snapped me back to reality. I bolted upright, stumbling forward, and grabbed the edge of his white coat. “Doctor! How is my daughter?” “She’s out of danger for now,” he said, sighing gently. His tone was firm. “But she needs her medication daily. Not a single day can be missed.” He handed me the hospital bill. My tensed nerves relaxed for a second, but when I saw the total, my heart plummeted. Panic seized me. Dr. Carter was one of the few people who knew my story. He never showed me any malice; instead, he always tried to help us. My lips trembled, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. He had already done so much for us. I couldn’t beg him for more. Seeing me staring blankly at the bill, Dr. Carter smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about the bill. Someone paid it anonymously.” I was stunned. I couldn’t think of anyone who would pay such a massive amount for us. Suddenly, a crazy memory flashed in my mind. Three years ago, as Julian “died” in my arms, he whispered: *I’ll make sure you’re safe for the rest of your life.* My eyes welled with tears as a wild, ridiculous thought took over. Could he… be alive? Dr. Carter turned to leave. My chest tightened. I rushed forward, my voice shaking. “Dr. Carter! Wait! The person who paid… did you see what they looked like?” He stopped and shook his head regretfully. “I’m not sure. I walked past the billing window earlier and only saw a man and a woman.” A man and a woman?! My fingertips turned ice-cold. He was alive. He was definitely alive. But who was the woman next to him? I lost my mind. I ran through the hospital corridors, searching every corner, but found nothing. Eventually, I collapsed to the floor, crying hysterically. He was alive! He was breathing this same air! But when my daughter was suffocating, when I was begging on the streets for a single dollar, where was he? Why? Why did he never come to find us? “Chloe Miller,” a mocking voice sneered from above. “Look at you. You look like a crazed homeless woman. Where did all your high-class elegance go? Tsk tsk, how pathetic.”

I looked up. It was Vivian. She was staring down at me, her eyes filled with pure, unadulterated malice. “Chloe, seeing you reduced to this… it’s absolutely thrilling!” “Why don’t you take a guess? Why did your precious little daughter suddenly have a heart attack today?” Vivian’s laughter was sharp and piercing. A cold dread washed over me. I froze, and then the realization hit me like a truck. I lunged at her, screaming: “It was you?! You did this to Lily! If you hate me, come at me! Why would you hurt a child?” “I’m warning you, Vivian! If you touch Lily again, I will drag you to hell with me!” Vivian shrugged, completely unfazed. “Chloe, whatever you care about the most, I will destroy. I just hope you and your brat don’t die too quickly. I’m not done playing with you yet.” I remembered what Dr. Carter said and yelled, “Is Julian still alive? Where is he?!” A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a smirk. “Isn’t he dead? He died right in your arms, remember? Have you lost your mind?” She turned to walk away. But I was faster. I blocked her path. “You’re not leaving until you tell me the truth.” Vivian laughed mockingly. “Chloe, instead of wasting your time blocking me, you should go back and look at your daughter. Who knows, maybe she…” My heart stopped. I pushed past her and sprinted back to the ICU. Inside the room, the heart monitor was beeping frantically. I screamed for the nurses. When they saw Lily’s condition, they glared at me in shock. “Ms. Miller! Do you want your daughter to die? Why did you unplug her oxygen?!” “She hasn’t even regained consciousness yet! She needs constant care!” “I’ve never seen such an irresponsible mother!” Their words stabbed into my chest, making it hard to breathe. She was my baby. Why would I ever hurt her? It had to be Vivian! She was trying to kill my daughter! I ran out like a madwoman, searching for her, but she had already vanished. With nowhere to vent my rage, I collapsed in the hallway, crying and praying that my daughter would survive. It wasn’t until midnight that Lily finally fluttered her eyes open. Seeing me, her eyes welled up. She reached out a tiny, weak hand and whispered through cracked lips, “Mommy… I’m sorry. I made you worry.” I gently stroked her hair, my voice cracking. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy is here. Just get better.” I dipped a cotton swab in warm water and gently dabbed her dry lips. My tears fell onto the back of her little hand. “Don’t cry, Mommy. Lily is brave…” I forced my tears back and squeezed out a smile. For the next few days, I stopped taking side jobs. I stayed by her bedside every second, reading her favorite fairy tales over and over. Seeing her soft smile was the only peace I had in this world. A week later, I went to fill out the discharge papers. I asked the nurse to watch Lily for a few minutes. But when I returned, I saw Vivian standing right by Lily’s bed. I don’t know what she said, but Lily’s face was deathly pale. “Vivian! What the hell are you doing here?” “You already hurt my daughter once! I won’t let you touch her again!” I violently shoved Vivian away and wrapped my arms around Lily. Vivian immediately put on a sweet, hurt expression. “Chloe, did I do something to upset you? Lily is my niece. Why would I ever hurt her?” “Stop lying!” I screamed. “I heard you! You and Julian have been lying to me this whole time! Stop acting innocent!” Vivian blinked, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Even if we did, what can you do about it? Look at you. You’re a broke loser who can’t even afford your kid’s medical bills. You deserved to be tricked.” The blood rushed to my head. I grabbed Vivian by her hair and slammed her against the wall. But before I could do more, a cold, familiar voice cut through the air. “That’s enough, Chloe. Stop acting like a psycho.” My breathing stopped. I slowly turned my head.

I stared blankly at the man who had been “dead” for three years. Julian Vance. Memories flooded my mind. Julian and I were high school sweethearts. Getting married was supposed to be a natural step. But after Vivian entered our lives as my stepsister, everything changed. Once, Vivian pretended to be close to me in front of Julian. But the second he walked away, she whispered: “I don’t care if he’s your fiancé. If I want him, I’ll take him.” Furious, I slapped her. Vivian screamed hysterically. Julian ran back and saw me hitting her. He immediately pulled me off her and yelled, “Chloe! What is wrong with you? Why are you hurting Vivian?” Julian demanded that I get down on my knees and beg Vivian for forgiveness. When I refused, he threatened to call off the wedding. Seeing him protect her, I lost my mind. I looked him dead in the eye and said: “Julian, I’ll ask you once. Her or me? If you choose her, we are done.” Julian’s face was rigid, but he didn’t stop me from walking away. Instead, he helped Vivian up and muttered, “I’m sorry, Vivian. I’ve spoiled her too much. I’ll make sure she learns her lesson.” I didn’t believe he would actually punish me for Vivian. But I was wrong. Deadly wrong. Three days later, Julian covered himself in fake blood and ran to my apartment, claiming he was being hunted by dangerous cartel members. I begged him to flee the country, but he refused. He said if he left, they would kill me. He said the only way to keep me safe was for him to commit suicide. And then, he looked at me and said: “This is my punishment for you, Chloe. Learn to be obedient. Stop bullying Vivian.” I screamed as he “shot” himself and collapsed in my arms. “No! I don’t accept this punishment! I was wrong! Please don’t leave me!” After that day, my father publicly disowned me to “protect the family reputation.” He announced to the media: “The Miller family only has one daughter, and her name is Vivian!” I became a homeless orphan. I had nothing. No fiancé, no family. All I had left was the baby in my womb. Seeing me standing there like a statue, Vivian used Julian’s blind spot to pinch my arm violently. The sharp pain brought me back to reality. I gasped, shoved her away, and lunged at Julian. I grabbed his expensive collar, screaming at the top of my lungs: “Julian! You’re alive! Why did you fake your death?! Why did you lie to me?!” My voice cracked with pure agony. “Do you have any idea how I lived these past three years?! I thought you were dead!” Before Julian could speak, Vivian shoved me away and shielded him. “Chloe, have you lost your mind? Julian just paid for your daughter’s surgery! How can you be so ungrateful?” My rage boiled over. “She is his daughter! Paying for her is his damn job!” “And who the hell are you to talk to me?!” I grabbed Vivian by the neck and slapped her hard across the face. As I raised my hand to strike again, Julian grabbed my wrist. He squeezed so hard I felt my bones crushing. He stared down at me with cold, detached eyes. Tears streamed down my face, but I refused to look away. Seeing my tears, he finally let go. His tone was filled with arrogant pity. “Now that you know the truth, pack your things and come back with me. You don’t have to live in this dump anymore. I’ll make it up to you.” I ignored him, turned around, and slapped Vivian again. Without a second thought, Julian raised his hand and slapped me back. “Chloe! Have you not had enough?” “Did three years of misery still not teach you how to behave?”

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While we were in the hot spring, my wife’s male best friend suddenly shoved me underwater. He yanked on my swim trunks, ripping them, trying to expose me to everyone in the pool. Then, he pointed at the birthmark on my butt and laughed. “A psychic healer told Chloe that this birthmark means he was a gluttonous pig in his past life!” “Oh my god, Chloe, your husband’s is so much smaller than mine. How do you even stomach that? Haha… Tell me, whose do you like better? Mine or his?” I struggled to stand up, instinctively trying to cover myself. But he just smirked and offered a cheeky, provocative explanation: “Don’t get the wrong idea! She didn’t know anything at first. I was the one who taught her how to please a man!” “Besties don’t have secrets. I know way more than you think!” My mind went completely blank. I stared at Chloe in utter disbelief. She just stood there with a smile, not caring in the slightest. Only when she noticed my glare did she say casually, “Alright, Julian, stop teasing him. You know he’s sensitive.” She was talking to Julian. But there wasn’t a hint of blame in her voice. Instead, she made it sound like I was the one being a party pooper. Julian glanced at me. Seeing my dark expression, he gave a half-hearted apology. “Fine, fine, my bad, okay?” But then he muttered under his breath, “What’s the big deal anyway? Chloe shares everything with me. She even told me how many positions you guys went through last night.” “Even on your wedding night, she was on a Snapchat group call with us. We heard practically the whole thing!” Though he lowered his voice, the spa was dead silent. Every single word cut through the air and hit my ears clearly. I was shaking with rage. I had never imagined something this disgusting could happen. Sensing the tension, Chloe’s other friends quickly chimed in. “Sorry, man. Julian is always hanging out with us girls. He just has no filter. Don’t take it personally.” “Yeah, Logan. Julian always says he wishes he could be more like you. He really didn’t mean any harm.” Julian didn’t mean any harm? That was the biggest joke I’d ever heard in my life. I ignored them and stared straight at Chloe. “Is that what you think too?” I demanded coldly. She frowned, glared at Julian, and barked, “Keep your mouth shut!” Seeing her stand up for me made me feel slightly better. But a second later, Julian threw a tantrum. “Is this really necessary? I just told the truth. What did I do wrong?” “When we guys hang out, don’t we talk about this stuff too?” He grumbled, playing the victim. Chloe pulled my arm. She said again, “Look, Julian just has a short fuse. He’s like this with everyone. Just let it go, Logan.” Let it go? Why the hell should I let it go? I let out a cold laugh. “I don’t do ‘letting it go,’” I said, my voice freezing over. Before they could even react, I grabbed Julian, shoved his head straight into the water, and ripped his swim trunks clean off. He pushed me away, scrambling to cover his crotch, but it was too late. He was completely exposed. I felt a surge of satisfaction and sneered: “No wonder you can only hang out with girls. With a body like that, you wouldn’t spark a woman’s desire even if the lights were off!” I was only throwing his own medicine back at him. But Julian completely lost his mind and lunged at me. Chloe was faster—she whipped off her own towel and wrapped it around him, hugging him from behind to hold him back. Their bare skin pressed together. They looked like the most intimate couple in the world. I looked away, my heart turning to ice. Yet, Chloe seemed completely oblivious. She was still shouting at me, “If Julian hadn’t been nice enough to invite you, you wouldn’t even be at this resort!” “Apologize to him right now, and we’ll drop it!” “He was just joking, but you literally stripped him naked. Look at you!” “He has a temper, who knows what he’ll do if he stays mad?” I stared at her, feeling nothing but disgust. “Well, guess what? I have a temper too.” I never let myself eat dirt. Since she wanted to play dirty, she could get ready for the consequences. With that, I delivered a sharp kick right between Julian’s legs. Julian doubled over, clutching his crotch, screaming that I was a psychopath. “Doesn’t look that much bigger than mine anyway,” I threw back. I got out of the pool, dressed, and left the resort. I wasn’t going to waste another second on these people. Once outside, I pulled out my phone and called my childhood friend, Harper, who also happened to be a divorce lawyer. “Harper,” I said. “I’m divorcing Chloe.”

Chloe and I met during a game of Truth or Dare at a company dinner. She got my Snapchat and pursued me relentlessly. Slowly, she won me over, and we got together. We dated for two years and had been married for over a year. Nearly four years in total. But before all this, I had no idea she had such a toxic male best friend in her circle. I first found out about Julian on our first wedding anniversary. She said she was going to the restroom to take a call. Instead, she ditched me entirely to deliver condoms to Julian, never returning that night. The next day, we had a massive fight. She deleted him on Snapchat right in front of me and swore she would keep her distance from all men. But less than two months later, she spent the night out again, drinking herself to sleep with him. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, but the next morning, I received a photo of them sleeping in the same bed. Chloe cried and begged for my forgiveness immediately. “It was a friend’s birthday party! Everyone was there, I couldn’t just kick him out!” “I drank too much, I have no idea what happened.” “But I swear, I would never betray you. Julian is just like one of the girls to me. Even if he stood naked in front of me, I wouldn’t feel a thing!” Foolishly, I forgave her. But that incident remained a thorn in my side—like swallowing a fly. You can’t digest it, and you can’t throw it up. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me three times? We are done. But Harper was right. Getting a divorce isn’t that simple. If Chloe refused to sign, I would have to sue and present solid proof of her infidelity. I took the day off today, waiting for her to come home so we could negotiate. I never expected them to hand the evidence to me on a silver platter. Chloe practically carried Julian back into our apartment. The moment they walked in, Julian started whining in his passive-aggressive tone. “Logan, you got to play the tough guy yesterday, but do you have any idea how much I’m suffering?” I knew exactly how much. I’ve always been physically strong—I can carry water bottles up ten flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. In my rage, I had kicked him with the intent to ruin his manhood. Did I actually break him? I glanced disgustedly at his crotch. I felt guilty for about half a second before mentally high-fiving myself. Chloe noticed my gaze and snapped, “Logan!” I snapped out of it and was about to bring up the divorce, but Chloe beat me to it. “From now on, I’m going to help Julian with his rehabilitation exercises.” “The doctor said he needs stimulation to recover his function, or he’ll be impotent for the rest of his life!” Wow. That is absolutely fantastic. I suppressed my urge to cheer and asked, acting curious, “Oh really? Did the doctor tell you exactly what you need to do?” “Of course, you—” Before she could finish, I cut her off. “How about this? Why don’t you guys give me a demonstration? I’ll record a video so I can learn.”

Both of them froze. They probably didn’t expect me to be so “supportive.” Julian shot a shy, smug look at Chloe, feigning hesitation. “I don’t know, Chloe. What if Logan gets mad and takes it out on you later?” He was clearly trying to bring up my “violence” from yesterday to fuel her anger. Chloe’s face darkened. “Why should we care? We’re best friends. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She sat down on the couch and signaled Julian to start, throwing a provocative glare at me. But after a whole night of thinking, she was already dead to me. A woman like her wasn’t worth my anger. I opened my phone camera. Then, Chloe reached her hand right into Julian’s pants. Honestly, it was disgusting. I kept my phone up but looked away, letting my mind wander. I tuned out their giggles and dirty talk. I don’t know how much time passed, but Julian suddenly muttered, “Why is there still no reaction?” He then joked, “Chloe, put some effort into it!” “It’s because you’re useless! Call me mommy and maybe it’ll work!” “Shut up, there’s someone else here!” My lips twitched in disgust. Honestly, compared to these two, I really did feel like an outsider. But he wasn’t wrong. I was divorcing her anyway. Close enough. They soon forgot I was even there, and their actions got bolder. Finally, Chloe pulled her hand back. “I’m tired.” I paused the recording and said dryly, “Well, now I believe you guys are just besties. Otherwise, how could she touch you and feel absolutely nothing?” They had used that excuse on me so many times. But hearing it from my mouth made both of their faces turn pale. Julian snapped in embarrassment: “What do you know? She was always the one pleasing me, not the other way around!” “If I hadn’t trained her and given her experience, you think you’d be having such a good time in bed?” Good time? More like nausea. He stood up, clearly pissed off. “I was nice enough to teach him, and he’s still being a sarcastic jerk. I’m leaving!” He shot me a loaded look. “If you still want my help, Chloe, meet me at our usual spot.” Once Julian left, Chloe glared at me. “Are you satisfied now?” I could tell she was genuinely rattled. Usually, she would try to make up some excuses. Now, she couldn’t even pretend. “He just told the truth. Did you really have to resort to violence?” “And besides, your—” I cut her off. “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.” She froze, staring at me in disbelief. “What did you say?” Before I could repeat myself, she barked, “No way! I don’t agree!” “Fine. If you don’t agree, I’ll file for divorce in court. This video I just recorded will make excellent evidence.”

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My boyfriend was heavily in debt. Out of pure love, I willingly became a VIP club hostess to support him. For three years, I threw away my dignity to pour drinks for rich men. Yet, even when I was pregnant, my boyfriend’s loan shark set his eyes on me. The loan shark wanted me to sleep with him to clear the debt. He dragged me toward a back room. Thinking of the baby in my belly, I struggled with everything I had. In the chaos, my boyfriend blocked a knife for me. Blood poured from his wound. I broke down, crying hysterically. He comforted me, whispering, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you or our baby again.” At the hospital, the doctor told me his kidney was ruptured. He needed an immediate transplant, or he would die. Still blinded by love, I donated one of my kidneys to him. But right after the surgery, while I was still weak, I overheard a conversation between my boyfriend and his loan shark outside my door. “That was a brilliant move, Mr. Vance! It was so easy to get that club girl to willingly give up her kidney.” “It’s an honor for her to save Blair’s life,” my boyfriend’s cold voice replied. “But Mr. Vance, she’s still pregnant. What if it hurts the baby? It’s your blood, after all. Is that really okay?” “A woman who works in a place like that… the kid wouldn’t be clean anyway.”

Hearing those words, my heart shattered. My body couldn’t stop shaking. Just then, the doctor walked up to Tristan Vance respectfully and reported: “Mr. Vance, as you requested, we have successfully transplanted Clara Davis’s kidney to Miss Blair Montgomery. The surgery was a complete success.” Tristan couldn’t hide his joy. This man, usually so composed, actually ran down the hallway toward Blair’s private room. The loan shark watched him leave, cast a contemptuous glance at my ward, and spoke to his thug. “Mr. Vance really loves Miss Montgomery. Normally, if she just gets a scratch, he loses his mind. A major surgery like a kidney transplant must have worried him sick. But his little hostess girlfriend is miserable. She gave up a kidney for absolutely nothing.” “Exactly, Leo. The girl is pregnant. But Mr. Vance was so cold. He ordered us to make sure she didn’t die before the surgery, but that was it. No mercy at all.” “For a rich heir like Mr. Vance, women are disposable. Why would he care about a club hostess?” Their words pierced through the thin wall, entering my ears with brutal clarity. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I forced myself to stay conscious through the searing pain. Once the hallway went quiet, I dragged my weak, aching body toward the room Tristan had run into. A small, pathetic part of me was still hoping. Hoping that what I just heard was a nightmare. I peered through the small window of the private suite. The reality slapped me in the face. We had the surgery on the same day. Blair was in a luxurious, private suite. I was in a crowded, noisy six-person ward. It was painfully clear who mattered to him. Inside, Tristan was holding Blair, who was whimpering about the pain. He gently wiped the sweat from her forehead, his eyes filled with pure heartache. “What are those doctors doing? I told them to use the best painkillers. Useless bastards. Don’t worry, Blair. I know how much you care about your looks. I won’t let this surgery leave a scar. Come on, let’s eat something first, okay?” I subconsciously touched my own face. All I felt were thick, rough bandages covering my wounds. Since childhood, everyone had praised my beauty. When Tristan first met me, he said I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Did he still remember that? Did he remember that I also cared about my looks? Tristan gently blew on a spoonful of warm oatmeal, coaxing the picky Blair to eat, carefully wiping her lips. I suddenly remembered a time when I had a high fever. I hadn’t had a drop of water all day. When I called Tristan, he simply said he was working late and ordered me takeout. Back then, I felt so bad for making him worry during his busy work hours. I was so happy just to get that cheap takeout. It turned out he knew how to take care of someone. He just didn’t want to waste it on me. Their intimacy burned my eyes. As I turned to leave, the door suddenly swung open.

I froze, bumping right into Tristan. I thought he would recognize me, but his eyes held nothing but raw disgust. “This is a private wing. What are you sneaking around here for? The hospital security needs to be fired. Letting random trash wander up here.” I gasped. Then I realized my face was completely wrapped in bandages due to the injuries from the loan shark attack. Tristan didn’t recognize me. But this also meant he hadn’t visited my room even once since the surgery. I had wondered if he would panic if I caught him. Now, his cold gaze gave me the ultimate answer. The hospital security guards arrived and escorted me back to my crowded ward. Tristan didn’t give me another glance. He turned back to comfort Blair, promising her that this “annoyance” wouldn’t happen again. Back in my bed, the nurse gasped. She realized that my sudden movement had ripped my surgical stitches, and blood was soaking through my gown. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. It wasn’t until evening, when it was time to change my dressings, that Tristan finally showed up. He had changed into patient scrubs. Seeing my bandaged face, he frowned and asked with feigned concern: “Clara, you’ve been through so much, and you gave your kidney to save me. How is your body? Is the baby okay?” I instinctively placed my hand over my stomach and shook my head. “The baby is fine.” “You haven’t eaten all day, right? I scraped together the last of my savings and bought you something from a nice restaurant.” He opened a bag with an air of sacrifice, showing me steak and lobster. These were luxuries I could never afford during our three years together. I looked down. “These are so expensive. Why did you spend so much money?” “You sacrificed your kidney for me. Of course I need to feed you the best to help you recover. Besides, I promised you we’d eat like this every day in the future. You won’t have to suffer anymore.” His lies were still so smooth, so convincing. If this were the old me, I would have been so moved that I wouldn’t eat a single bite. I would have begged him to return it just to save a few dollars. But now, I just stared at the food in silence. Because on the steak, there was a visible bite mark. Blair’s bite mark. I touched my stomach. Driven by a mix of rage and despair, I grabbed a piece of the untouched meat with my bare hands and stuffed it into my mouth. To pay off his fake debts, I hadn’t had a proper meal in years. I lived on cheap crackers and tap water. I had forgotten how good real food tasted. As I swallowed, I sucked the grease off my fingers, and tears finally spilled over. Tristan looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. He reached out to grab the box away. “Stop eating!” I let out a bitter laugh. “Why? Didn’t you buy this for me?” Tristan lowered his eyes, suddenly pulling me into a tight hug. “I… I just feel guilty that I couldn’t provide this for you sooner.” But I didn’t miss the disgust that flashed in his eyes before he hugged me. Once the veil of lies was lifted, every ugly detail became blindingly obvious. After the meal, the nurse walked in to remind Tristan to pay the hospital bills. Tristan went quiet for a moment. “Clara, I’m so sorry. I… I can’t afford the ward fees right now…” I kept my head down, staring at his polished leather shoes. I had searched them online. Those handmade shoes cost tens of thousands of dollars. Blair had gifted them to him in her room earlier. He noticed where I was looking and quickly pulled me closer, gripping my shoulders so hard it hurt. He realized his reaction was too defensive and tried to soften his tone. “Sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean to squeeze so hard. Oh, these shoes? The guy sharing my ward didn’t want them anymore. They looked brand new, so I took them. Do they look alright?” Did he really think I was stupid enough to believe such a pathetic lie? “They look great,” I whispered. “Just like brand new.”

After we were discharged and went back to our rented apartment, Tristan’s impatience grew day by day because he had to “take care” of me. Remembering how he once promised to cherish me forever, I wanted to laugh. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Tristan opened it, and Blair, who had somehow found our address, skipped inside and threw herself into Tristan’s arms. Tristan’s face softened instantly into pure adoration. He held her tightly, terrified she might fall. “Oh! You must be Tristan’s girlfriend. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” “Tristan and I grew up together. I heard he was hurt, and I was so worried that I just had to come. You don’t mind, do you?” Seeing my silence, Blair’s eyes welled with tears. “Did I ruin things? If you don’t like me here, I’ll just leave…” Tristan immediately shielded her behind his back, snapping at me for the first time in public. “Why are you throwing a tantrum? Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting Blair’s feelings?” “It’s okay, Tristan. Maybe she’s just in a bad mood. Tristan, I’m hungry. Can you make me that warm sweet oatmeal you always make?” Blair cooed. They played their roles perfectly, painting me as the bitter villain without me saying a single word. Tristan tapped Blair’s nose gently. “Alright, my little princess. Go sit down. I’ll make your favorite.” Tristan went into the kitchen. This man, who had always claimed he didn’t know how to cook to get out of doing chores, prepared the oatmeal with practiced ease. He had clearly done it hundreds of times. I had loved him so much that I never let him touch a frying pan after his long workdays. Once, when I playfully asked him to cook for me, he made excuses and dumped a cup of instant noodles in front of me. I had laughed it off back then. Now, I couldn’t even force a smile. Blair smirked and walked over to me. She suddenly grabbed my hand. I frowned and tried to pull away, but she used the momentum to throw herself onto the floor. Hearing the crash, Tristan rushed out of the kitchen. His face darkened instantly, and he violently shoved me aside. He used all his strength. My body was still incredibly weak from the surgery. I lost my balance and crashed hard into the glass coffee table. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my abdomen. My lips trembled, but I couldn’t make a sound. “Clara! Even if you hate me, you shouldn’t have pushed me! I would have left if you just asked…” Blair sobbed on the floor. “You’ve gone too far! Do you know Blair just had major surgery?!” Tristan roared. The mask of the loving boyfriend was completely gone, replaced by raw disgust. I lay collapsed against the broken glass. A warm, terrifying wetness began to seep between my thighs. “Call 911… the baby…” I gasped. But before I could finish, Tristan had already scooped Blair up in his arms and was rushing out the door to the hospital. Blair looked over his shoulder, flashing me a victorious, wicked grin. She mouthed three words: “Go. Die. Now.”

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On our third wedding anniversary, Ethan and I got into a car crash. When the truck lost control and slammed into us, Ethan’s first instinct was to shield the passenger seat. He held Chloe tightly in his arms, protecting her with his life. I was in the back seat, my lower abdomen pinned by the deformed metal. The pain was so agonizing that my breath shook. When the rescue team arrived, Ethan had already smashed the passenger door open, carrying Chloe out. A firefighter shone a flashlight into the car and yelled, “Is there anyone else inside?” Ten minutes before the crash, Ethan had personally closed the back door for me. I tried my best to raise my hand, wanting to tap on the window. But through the shattered glass, I heard his hoarse voice reply, “No. No one else.” “Take her to the hospital first. She’s always been terrified of pain. She can’t handle any shock.” My hand froze in mid-air. When Chloe was lifted onto the stretcher, she only had a shallow scratch on her wrist from the glass. Yet Ethan held her hand tightly, looking like he had just recovered his most precious treasure. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” From beginning to end, he never once looked back at the smoking car. Later, when the firefighters dragged me out of the back seat, my skirt was already soaked in blood. The doctor looked at my chart, his face darkening instantly. “Why did you bring her in so late?” “Her abdomen suffered severe trauma. We need to operate immediately.” The nurse held the consent form and asked me, “Where is your family?” I looked toward the ward not far away. Chloe’s scratch was so shallow it didn’t even need stitches. But Ethan was guarding her bedside, his eyes red as he forced the doctor to examine her for the third time. I suddenly let out a soft laugh. “I don’t have any family here. I’ll sign it myself.”

After the surgery, I was wheeled back to the ward. The anesthesia wore off slowly. But the pain came back fast. My abdomen felt like it was being sliced open repeatedly with a knife. I didn’t even dare to breathe too hard. The doctor stood by my bed, his voice very gentle. “We couldn’t save the baby.” “It will be very difficult for you to get pregnant again in the future.” I stared at the medical report. The words on it were clear. But I stared at them for a long time, unable to process what they meant. So I had been pregnant. And that child never even got a chance to be known by their father. In the next ward, Ethan’s voice was more frantic than the doctor’s. “Will her wrist scar? Did it damage her tendons? Check it again!” The doctor explained patiently, “Mr. Vance, it’s just a scratch. It doesn’t even need stitches.” But Ethan wouldn’t let it go. “She’s been sensitive to pain since she was a kid. Don’t be careless.” I turned my head away. Through the half-open door, I saw Chloe sitting on the hospital bed. She had a small Band-Aid on her wrist. Ethan was bending over, holding her hand, his eyes filled with intense worry. The nurse came over to change my dressing. The moment she peeled off the gauze, my fingers trembled from the pain. She stopped. “Where is your husband? Have him come in and support you.” I looked at the room next door. Ethan was softly coaxing Chloe to drink some water. “He’s not here.” The nurse was stunned. She looked at the wedding ring on my finger, then at Ethan in the next room. “Isn’t that man your husband?” I pulled my hand back under the blanket. The edge of the ring dug painfully into my palm. It hurt. “No. He’s the family member of the patient next door.” The nurse didn’t ask further. She just made her movements much gentler. After a long time, Ethan finally came out of the room. He stood by my bed. Seeing how pale I was, he frowned slightly. “How are you feeling?” I was about to hand him the medical report. But Chloe called out from next door. “Ethan!” His gaze shifted instantly. That belated bit of concern was pulled back before it could even reach me. “Get some rest first,” he said. He turned and went right back to her. I crumpled the report in my hand. I suddenly remembered the day we got married three years ago. Chloe had just rejected Ethan. She told him she only saw him as a brother. Ethan stood in the pouring rain all night. The next day, he came to see me. His voice was incredibly hoarse. “Don’t you like me? Let’s give it a try.” Back then, I thought I had finally waited long enough. I even secretly bought a bouquet of flowers. A small bouquet of baby’s breath. I held it tightly as we went to the courthouse. But Ethan never looked at those flowers. When we took our marriage photo, he didn’t smile either. The photographer had to remind him three times. Only then did he force a faint tug at the corner of his lips. I comforted myself back then. He was just hurt. People can slowly learn to love someone else. But three years had passed. Did he move on? No. The only one trapped in this marriage was me. Late at night, the lights in the next ward were still on. Ethan stayed by Chloe’s side while she slept. He tucked her in, adjusted the AC, and placed a cup of water right by her hand. I had post-surgery bleeding. I had to press the call button to get the nurse myself. While the nurse was changing my sheets, my phone buzzed with a payment notification. Chloe’s full checkups, the VIP suite, and her meals were all paid for by Ethan. My surgery fee, however, was paid with my own card. I looked at the payment screen. Suddenly, I felt so tired. It turned out a marriage could be split so cleanly. Where his heart was, that was where his money went. I folded the abortion report and stuffed it into my bag. Then I opened my phone. I logged into our company’s relocation system. In the relocation application reason, I wrote only four words: *Will follow any transfer.*

I was discharged the next day. Ethan personally wheeled Chloe downstairs. Chloe looked glowing. She sat in the wheelchair, wearing his jacket. A thin layer of gauze was wrapped around her wrist. She looked more like a delicate piece of porcelain than a patient. I held onto the wall, slowly following behind them. Every step sent a sharp pain through my abdomen, making my vision go dark. The nurse ran out and called after us. “Mrs. Vance, you just had surgery. It’s best if your husband supports you.” Ethan paused. He looked back at me. I looked at him too. Chloe cleared her throat softly. Ethan immediately looked down at her. “Are you cold? Do you want another jacket?” In the end, his glance only brushed past me. In the parking lot, the driver opened the door. The back seat was piled high with Chloe’s flower baskets, supplements, and medical bags. A soft cushion was laid out on the passenger seat. Ethan had put it there himself for Chloe. I stood by the car, the cold wind blowing into my collar. The gauze on my stomach throbbed. I asked him, “Where do I sit?” Ethan buckled Chloe’s seatbelt without looking up. “Take an Uber back.” My phone vibrated. He had sent me two hundred dollars. The note read: *Stop making a scene.* Chloe sat in the front seat and said softly, “Maybe Elena should sit here? She doesn’t look well.” Ethan shut her door. “She’s always been tough.” *Always been tough.* So I could handle the pain. I could handle the bleeding. And I could handle losing our child. I suddenly remembered when we first started dating. Ethan held the steering wheel and told me, “This passenger seat is yours. Only you can sit here.” I was so happy that day that I posted a picture of the car window on Snapchat. The caption read: *My exclusive spot.* Later, Chloe came back to the country. The first time she got into the car, she sat in the front. I asked Ethan why. He said she got car sick. He told me not to be petty. It turned out my “exclusive spot” was just a temporary loan while Chloe was away. And now. The passenger seat wasn’t mine. There was no room for me in the back either. Just like the day of the crash. I was always put last. And I was always the one who could be forgotten. I took an Uber back to our house alone. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror several times. “Miss, do you need me to take you to the ER?” I said no. There was no one waiting for me at the hospital anyway. When I got home, there was soup simmering in the kitchen. Wild mushroom chicken soup. Chloe’s favorite. On the coffee table, her anxiety meds, heating pad, and pain patches were laid out neatly. Everything was perfectly prepared. My anti-inflammatory meds were still crumpled inside the hospital plastic bag. No one opened them. No one asked. No one even remembered I had just had surgery. That evening, Ethan came back. He brought a container of porridge. He set it in front of me. “Your sister couldn’t finish it. Don’t let it go to waste.” The porridge was already lukewarm. I looked at the thin layer of skin forming on top and didn’t touch it. Ethan frowned. “Your stomach is weak. Eat a little.” I suddenly smiled. He actually remembered my stomach was weak. But remembering didn’t stop him from handing me someone else’s leftovers. Chloe’s call came right at that moment. Ethan answered almost instantly. Her voice was soft and crying on the other end. “Ethan, I’m scared to sleep alone.” Ethan had already picked up his car keys. “I’m coming over.” I looked up at him. “Ethan.” He stopped. I asked, “If I were the one scared tonight, would you rush over like this too?” He frowned. “Chloe just survived a car crash. Don’t compare yourself to her at a time like this.” The door shut. Only the cold porridge was left in the quiet house. I stared at it for a while. Then I opened my laptop and went to the relocation system. The button to confirm the transfer was glowing. I clicked it. *Transfer Confirmed.* The words on the screen were small. But they felt like a door opening right in front of me.

Three days after the crash, Ethan took me to the Vance family estate for dinner. He said Chloe was shaken up, and the family wanted to check on her. I had just finished surgery, and I still had to hold the walls to walk. Before we left, he looked at me. It wasn’t out of concern. It was a warning. “Don’t let the elders see you looking miserable.” I lowered my head and wrapped my scarf. I didn’t answer. The dinner table at the Vance estate was lively. Every dish was Chloe’s favorite. Honey-glazed ribs. Sweet potato casserole. Sweet butternut squash soup. I couldn’t eat sweet foods due to my stomach condition. Ethan knew this. In the past, when my stomach flared up, he would push all the sweet dishes away. He used to say, “My girl isn’t going to the hospital over a plate of food.” Back then, I really thought he loved me. But today, Chloe placed a honey-glazed rib into my bowl. “Elena, eat more.” I looked at the sticky, sweet rib. I slowly put down my forks. Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “She’s just being nice. Don’t ruin the mood.” The relatives fell silent for a second. Soon, someone laughed to break the tension. “These two sisters are just like when they were kids. One is delicate, the other is stubborn.” “Back then, we all thought Ethan would marry Chloe.” “But Elena is lucky. She got a great husband in the end.” Chloe lowered her head. Her voice was soft. “Don’t say that. It will make Elena sad.” Ethan didn’t defend me. He only said, “Let’s not talk about the past.” *The past.* Those words fell so lightly. Sitting there, I suddenly felt like an outsider. I was the one who was legally Ethan’s wife. Yet the way they looked at me. It was like I was a thief who had stolen Chloe’s rightful place. My mother-in-law pulled out a brochure. “Chloe is psychologically fragile right now. The doctor suggests she spend three months at a coastal recovery retreat.” “The retreat has a great environment, and Ethan has already paid half.” She pushed the brochure in front of me. “For the rest of the bill, you should take out your fertility savings.” “You’re still young anyway. You can always have kids later.” My fingers froze. That savings. I had saved it dollar by dollar. I had dreamed of buying a crib, baby clothes, and a stroller once the baby was born. But now the baby was gone. And they wanted to take that money to pay for Chloe’s luxury retreat. I looked at Ethan. He didn’t look away. He only said, “We need to prioritize her right now.” I asked, “What if I told you the baby is already gone?” The table fell dead silent. Chloe’s tears instantly started flowing. “Elena, are you still blaming me for sitting in the front seat?” “Please don’t use a baby to scare me. I’ll die of guilt.” Ethan’s brow furrowed deeply. “That’s enough.” I looked at him. His voice was extremely low. “Don’t use a child to fight for my attention.” “You know how easily she blames herself. Why do you have to trigger her?” At that moment. I suddenly lost all energy to explain. Even when I admitted to losing our child. In his eyes, it was just a cheap trick to make him jealous. Chloe clutched her chest, saying she couldn’t breathe. Ethan immediately stood up to support her. He brushed past me, yelling for the family doctor. I looked down and opened my phone. I searched for a divorce agreement template. And I typed Ethan’s name in, letter by letter. I had written his name so many times before. On our wedding invitations. On our house deed. On my pregnancy checkup forms. But it had never felt as smooth and effortless as it did now.

Back at our house, for the first time, Ethan didn’t immediately run off to Chloe. He placed a bowl of warm soup in front of me. His voice was softer. “I’ll take you to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow.” “I haven’t paid enough attention to you these past few days.” “Once Chloe stabilizes, we’ll focus on us.” I looked at him. This felt exactly like every other late compensation he had offered before. Once Chloe stabilizes. Once Chloe is fine. Once Chloe stops crying. In the end. I was always the one left waiting. Ethan reached out to touch my face. I turned away. His hand froze in the air. I asked him, “Ethan, if she and I both needed you tomorrow, who would you choose first?” He frowned slightly. “That’s a pointless question.” The next second, his phone rang. It was a voice message from Chloe. She was sobbing hysterically. “Ethan, I shouldn’t be alive. I’m just getting in the way of your marriage.” “If it weren’t for me, Elena wouldn’t hate you so much.” Ethan’s face changed instantly. I looked at him. “Didn’t you say you’d take me to the hospital tomorrow?” He gripped his phone. He was silent for a long time. Then he said, “I just need to make sure she’s safe. I’ll be right back.” I smiled. “Right back.” On the day of the crash, he should have remembered me “right back” too. But he told the firefighters. There was no one else inside. Ethan grabbed his coat. Before opening the door, he looked back at me. “Wait for me.” Once the door closed, the house became completely quiet. I sat there for a while. Then I stood up and placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table. The abortion report. The post-surgery diagnosis. The ultrasound picture. And my wedding ring. I pressed them all down under the papers. I transferred the fertility savings back to my personal account. That was my money for my baby. Now that the baby was gone. Not a single cent of it was going to Chloe’s wellness retreat. My suitcase had been packed long ago. I deactivated my phone number. I deleted all my social media accounts. No notes. No goodbyes. I went straight to the airport. It was past midnight when Ethan finally came home. Chloe had only taken two sleeping pills. The doctor said she just needed some sleep. When he opened the door, the house was dark. He instinctively called my name. No one answered. Half the master closet was empty. My usual skincare products on the vanity were gone. My toothbrush in the bathroom was gone too. Ethan’s face turned pale. He rushed to the living room. There, he saw the divorce papers on the coffee table. He saw the medical report that read: *Miscarriage, uterine trauma, future conception will be difficult.* And he saw the ultrasound picture pressed beneath them. In the photo, the tiny gestational sac was just a blurry dot. It was the surprise I had wanted to give him. Ethan stood frozen. His fingers shook so badly he could barely hold the paper. He desperately started dialing my number. But only a cold automated voice answered. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

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I’ve had severe claustrophobia since I was a child. Yet, Carter locked me inside a Ferris wheel cabin and left me there for an entire night. The temperature plummeted between day and night. I almost went into shock from severe hypothermia. It was only the next morning that Carter finally showed up, dragging Jasmine along to offer a half-hearted apology. “I’m so sorry, Stella. Jasmine had a sudden car accident last night. I couldn’t just leave her alone.” Jasmine stepped forward, grabbing my hand with a fake, childish pout. “Please don’t be mad at Carter, Stella. The sports car he bought me had a sudden brake failure. I accidentally hit someone and killed them. That’s why we got delayed and couldn’t make it back to get you down.” My phone vibrated. I unlocked it. The top text preview read: *“Stella, my sweet girl… I don’t think Mom will ever see you again.”* My heart seized violently. A dark, terrifying realization washed over me. I dialed her number back immediately, but no one answered. In my sheer panic, my phone’s battery died and the screen went black. At that moment, I forgot all about my anger toward Carter. I grabbed his arm, begging to use his phone. “Carter, let me use your phone. I need to call my mom!” To my disbelief, he yanked his arm back and refused. “Your mom isn’t glued to her phone 24/7 waiting for your call, Stella. Stop being so dramatic.” “Let’s go home. We need to have a serious talk about us.” With that, Carter turned around and walked away, side-by-side with Jasmine. It was as if I didn’t even exist. As they walked, Jasmine turned her head and flashed me a cold, mocking smirk. A shiver ran down my spine. The dread in my chest grew heavier. Did something really happen to my mom? What did that text message mean? Jasmine claimed she was suffering from “post-traumatic stress” from the accident and was too terrified to go back to her own place. Of course, Carter was the perfect gentleman. He brought Jasmine right into the apartment we shared and let her stay. Over the years, Jasmine had always been a constant shadow in our relationship. She was the heiress of a wealthy family, yet she insisted on chasing a middle-class guy like Carter. And Carter did everything to please her. Even though he knew she was filthy rich, he drained his savings to buy her a sports car. Meanwhile, I didn’t even have a decent scooter. Jasmine casually threw my belongings out of the guest room onto the floor. “Stella, babe, I’m a total germaphobe. Do you mind moving your stuff somewhere else?” My anxiety was already at its peak, and her attitude made me snap. “If you’re such a germaphobe, why are you still drooling over Carter? I’ve touched every single inch of his body.” “Don’t you find him dirty?” Jasmine’s face turned red with anger. She stomped her foot and ran straight into the study to cry to Carter. I didn’t care. I rushed to plug my phone into the charger. The moment it powered on, I called my mom again and again. Just like this morning, it went straight to voicemail. I couldn’t stay here for another second. I had to go home. I pulled out a suitcase and began packing the clothes Jasmine had thrown onto the floor. Since she wanted Carter so badly, I was done. I was letting him go. Carter walked out of the study just as I was zipping up my bag. His face darkened, and he aggressively snatched the suitcase from my hands. “Can you have some self-respect for once? Packing up and threatening to leave every time we have a fight—do you really think I’ll keep begging you to stay?” “Stop throwing tantrums, Stella.” “And I heard what you said to Jasmine. You know she’s sensitive. Why do you have to pick on a younger girl?” He unzipped the suitcase and dumped my clothes back onto the floor. I looked at him, completely lost. If he loved Jasmine so much, why wouldn’t he just let me go? “Carter, look at yourself. You care about Jasmine way more than you care about me.” “Let’s just call it quits before we make the mistake of getting married.” “I need to go home and check on my mom. I don’t have time for your games.” But I didn’t manage to leave. Carter took my ID and my phone, lock, stock, and barrel. Then, he began his usual routine—apologizing, begging for forgiveness. Every time he hurt me because of Jasmine, he would beg. And if I didn’t forgive him, he would always find a way to make me pay. Feeling completely defeated, I collapsed onto the couch. Jasmine made two cups of coffee. She handed one to Carter, sipping the other. The two of them sat on the balcony, chatting as if I weren’t even in the room. Jasmine chuckled. “The person I ran over last night was so fragile. Just a tiny bump and bam—dead.” “Fortunately, my dad’s lawyers found out she was some distant relative from the countryside. We paid off her family with some cash, and the police wrapped it up.” Carter took a sip of his coffee, looking at Jasmine with pure adoration. “She was in her late fifties anyway. It was her time. It wasn’t your fault, Jasmine. She probably wasn’t looking where she was going.” My blood ran cold. A human life meant absolutely nothing to them. Carter, have you forgotten who you used to be? You used to cry over a stray dog on the street and bring it home. While I was lost in my thoughts, Jasmine spoke again. “But get this—isn’t it crazy? The dead woman’s heart was a perfect match for my dad’s.” “So they did an emergency transplant. My dad got her heart.” “Honestly, though, it’s kind of gross. She was so poor and dirty. I hope my dad’s body doesn’t reject her cheap heart.” I couldn’t listen to another word. I got up and locked myself in the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I used an iPad to send Carter a Snapchat message. *”We’re done. Whether you agree to it or not, there’s nothing left between us.”* Carter didn’t reply. He and Jasmine kept laughing on the balcony, talking about how “thrilling” their night had been. A few minutes later, my iPad buzzed. I thought it was my mom, but it was a message from Jasmine. *”You’ve been listening this whole time, Stella. Aren’t you sad?”* *”The woman who died… was your precious mom.”* *”You really are heartless.”*

My brain went entirely blank. My first instinct was to run out and scream at Jasmine. But when I opened the door, she was already in bed. Carter was just coming out of the guest room. I tried to push past him, but he grabbed me tightly, shoving me back. “What is wrong with you now? I just got Jasmine to sleep. Don’t go in there and wake her up!” That night, we had the biggest fight of our lives. I screamed, asking him why he always put Jasmine first. He yelled back, accusing me of being insecure and insanely jealous. Finally, he sneered, “Jasmine is sweet and innocent. Unlike you, Stella. You’re calculated, bitter, and exhausting.” I stopped fighting. A sickening thought hit me. Carter knew. He knew about my mom, and he was helping Jasmine cover it up. After the screaming died down, Carter threw my ID back at me. “Stella, realistically, do you think you can find anyone better than me?” “I’ve never judged you for your poor background. You should be grateful.” I burst into a laugh—a laugh that quickly turned into tears. Standing a few feet away from him, I whispered, “My mom is dead, isn’t she? And you knew about it all along.” He turned to look at me, his expression suddenly blank. “What did you say? I was on my phone. I didn’t hear you.” “Anyway, have you calmed down? Are you staying?” I spent the rest of the night on the couch. From the bedroom, I could hear Carter and Jasmine giggling. They slept in the same bed right in front of me, all because Jasmine was “scared of the dark” and Carter “had to comfort her.” I realized then that being strong gets a woman nowhere. It only gives men an excuse not to care. At dawn, I got on a Greyhound bus back to my hometown. But the house was empty. My mom’s wardrobe was completely cleaned out. Desperate, I checked our Ring camera footage on my phone. The footage showed my mom leaving with her suitcase two days ago. I remembered her calling me a few weeks ago, saying she wanted to come to the city to visit me. I had told her no, saying I would come pick her up during my next vacation. She must have decided to surprise me. Was the woman Jasmine hit really my mom? How could it be such a coincidence? My mom had never met Jasmine. How did Jasmine know she was my mother?

Back in the city, I ran to every single hospital. Finally, at a high-end private medical center, I found a lead. A woman victims of a severe car accident had indeed been brought in two nights ago. But her body had been quickly taken away by the Qiao Group. The hospital itself was owned by Jasmine’s family. I collapsed onto the steps outside the hospital, watching the busy streets. The crushing weight of helplessness suffocated me. My mom died without getting to see me one last time. She died with me on her mind. And I had missed her. When I got back to the apartment, only Jasmine was there. I marched up to her, demanding answers. “Jasmine, you knew she was my mom from the very beginning, didn’t you?” “Why did you do it? Where is her body?!” Jasmine was painting her nails, her usual sweet, innocent act completely gone. “Where do you think? Probably in some stray dog’s stomach by now.” I clenched my fists, my body shaking with rage. “Murderers go to jail, Jasmine. Aren’t you afraid of karma?” Jasmine looked up, meeting my eyes with a smirk. “Lower your voice, babe. We wouldn’t want Carter to hear you. In his eyes, I’m just a harmless little bunny.” “Look, don’t be so dramatic. I can write you a check for five million dollars. I know you poor people love money.” “But on one condition—take the money and leave Carter forever, okay?” The rage that had been building up inside me for days exploded. Looking at her smug, disgusting face, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face as hard as I could. *SLAP!* A bright red handprint appeared on her cheek. Jasmine’s eyes flared with anger, but in the next second, she forced tears into her eyes and threw herself onto the floor. Because the front door was opening. Carter was home. Jasmine sobbed hysterically on the floor. “Carter! Stella slapped me! She called me a homewrecker and a whore!” “Nobody has ever treated me like this…” Carter’s eyes turned bloodshot. He didn’t even take off his shoes before rushing over to me. “Don’t worry, Jasmine. I’ll handle this.” He glared at me with absolute hatred. “Stella, are you actively trying to test my limits?” *SMACK!* A brutal slap landed on my face. Carter’s blow was ten times harder than the one I gave Jasmine. I lost my balance and crashed hard onto the floor. The back of my head struck the sharp corner of the coffee table. A sharp, blinding pain shot through my skull. Tears streamed down my face. “Carter… you idiot… Jasmine is a murderer! She killed my—” Before I could finish, Carter kicked me hard in the stomach. I doubled over, the pain forcing the rest of my words back down my throat. Carter seemed to realize he had gone too far. Seeing me curled up on the floor in agony, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. He knelt down to help me up. But Jasmine let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, Carter… my stomach hurts so bad…” “Take me to the ER, please!” Without a second thought, Carter left me on the floor and carried Jasmine out. The disappointment was crippling. Even after everything, my heart still ached. Ultimately, it was a kind neighbor passing by who found me and called an ambulance. At the hospital, the doctor gave me the news: I was pregnant. With triplets. I didn’t hesitate. “I want to schedule an abortion.” In the office, the doctor stopped typing on his keyboard. He looked up at me. “Triplets, Stella. Are you sure you want to do this?” My voice was flat. “They’re coming at the worst possible time.” “Just get rid of them.” The doctor’s hands froze over the keyboard. “What if I told you… I want them?” I froze. When I first walked into the clinic, I hadn’t realized the doctor on duty was Julian Vance. If I had known, I would have canceled the appointment. But he was the only specialist available. Julian was my childhood friend. After I started dating Carter, I had cut off all contact with him. Even though he used to text me to check on me, I had never replied. “Keep them, Stella. An abortion will ruin your body,” he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. … For the next week, Carter never came back to the apartment. He only sent a text saying Jasmine was traumatized by the “incident” and he was taking her on a trip to Hawaii to recover. I didn’t waste any time. During that week, Julian and I made a decision. We set a date to get married. The day before Carter was scheduled to return, I moved all my things out. The evening before my wedding, Carter finally called me. “Stella, it’s time to come home. I’ll take you to the Ferris wheel tonight. Just you and me.” How pathetic, Carter. I’m about to get married, and only now do you remember me? “Sorry, Carter. I’m getting married tomorrow. My fiancé wouldn’t appreciate me meeting up with my ex.” Carter’s mind went blank. He yelled into the phone, “Stella! What the hell are you talking about?! I’m not even there! Who are you marrying?!” I hung up on him. Since I was already breaking his heart, I figured I might as well shatter it completely. I sent him the audio recordings of Jasmine boasting about the murder, along with screenshots of her text messages. Within minutes, my phone blew up with dozens of Snapchats. *“Stella, please! Wait for me! You can’t marry him!”* *“Stella, there must be a misunderstanding. Please, just wait for me. I’m begging you…”*

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I have Epidermolysis Bullosa—commonly known as “Butterfly Skin.” My skin is as fragile as a butterfly’s wing. The slightest scratch can cause tearing, severe bleeding, and easily take my life. After we got married, I desperately wanted a baby of our own. But my husband, Julian Vance, refused. He said, “I love you more than life itself, Elena. I can’t risk losing you.” After five years of his constant persuasion, we finally went to an adoption agency and brought a child home. I raised the boy, Tommy, as if he were my own flesh and blood. Julian, claiming he didn’t trust me to handle a child alone with my condition, even put his career on hold to stay home and help me. Until today. Eight-year-old Tommy held a sharp knife and deliberately slashed my wrist. I grabbed his hand just as he was about to stab me again. Julian walked in, saw us, and violently shoved me away. “He’s just a child! Did you really have to snap at him like that?” “I guess since he’s not your biological son, you just can’t help but be cruel.” Without even glancing at my bleeding wrist, he picked up Tommy and stormed upstairs. I followed them, desperate to explain, but stopped outside the bedroom door when I heard a familiar voice on Julian’s phone. It was my best friend, Chloe Miller. “Julian, Tommy is starting to look more and more like the two of us.” “What if Elena finds out he’s our child? She’s my best friend… I feel so guilty.” Julian’s voice was incredibly gentle as he comforted her. “Don’t worry. Her depression is getting worse by the day. She doesn’t have the mental capacity to notice anything.” I wiped away my tears and turned around. When Julian finally came downstairs with Tommy in his arms, I spoke up. “Let’s get a divorce, Julian.”

Julian froze, his face instantly turning cold. “Are you threatening me with a divorce now?” He let out a heavy sigh. “I won’t hold what happened with Tommy against you. Stop throwing these childish tantrums.” I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I told you, he cut me on purpose with a knife.” Julian looked at me with pure disappointment, clearly unwilling to hear another word. As he slammed the door on his way out, the boy in his arms turned back and gave me a wicked, mocking smirk. I got into my car and quietly followed them. They went to an art gallery. Inside, Chloe was leaning beautifully against Julian, who was still holding Tommy. They were looking at a painting of a family of three standing by the sea. “Julian, let me hold Tommy.” “No, you’re pregnant. Tommy might accidentally hurt you.” Chloe pouted, looking a bit sad. “Is this new baby going to be raised by Elena, too?” Julian gently stroked Chloe’s cheek. “Taking care of a child alone is too hard. I can’t bear to watch you suffer.” He paused, his voice softening. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Tommy knows who his real mother is.” I clutched my chest, a stabbing pain piercing my heart. No wonder Tommy had refused to get close to me ever since he was old enough to speak. Every time he looked at me, his eyes were filled with hostility. Whenever I told Julian about it, he would just kiss my forehead and tell me I was overthinking. It turned out Julian was the one whispering poison in his ear all along. Because of my Butterfly Skin, my slashed wrist was still bleeding profusely. The winter wind outside was freezing, but I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. Trembling, I walked into the gallery. Julian’s eyes flashed with panic when he saw me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at the two of them. Julian’s first instinct was to shield Chloe behind his back. “I know everything,” I whispered. Chloe stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. “Elena, let me explain. I…” Suddenly, she threw herself to the floor, faking a hard fall. Julian’s eyes went red. He lunged forward and violently shoved me away. A heavy painting on the wall crashed down around us. “Elena! I’m pregnant! Why would you push me?!” Chloe screamed. The impact of Julian’s shove sent me crashing hard against the sharp corner of a wooden table. My fragile skin tore instantly, and blood began to soak through the back of my coat. Julian saw the blood. His fingers clenched tightly, and he made a move to step toward me. But Chloe screamed hysterically, “Julian! Save my baby! It hurts!” Without another look at me, he scooped her up and rushed out toward the hospital. I watched them disappear, my tears mixing with the blood pooling on the gallery floor. The other visitors in the gallery gathered around, whispering and pointing at me. “How ruinous. I came to see an art show and had to witness this drama.” “That woman is evil. How could she push a pregnant woman?” By the time I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed. A kind stranger had called the ambulance for me. I dragged my battered body out of my room and stumbled down the hallway, only to see Julian and Chloe through the window of a private VIP suite. Julian was holding her close. Chloe looked up weakly. “Thank God the baby is fine. Otherwise, I’d never forgive myself.” Julian’s voice was thick with suppressed anger. “It’s not your fault. Elena is just too pathologically jealous.” “I’m going to make her come here and apologize to you.” He pulled out his phone and dialed. My ringtone echoed loudly in the quiet hallway. Julian turned and spotted me immediately. “Get in here and apologize to Chloe!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the room, showing zero concern for why I was in the hospital in the first place. Bruises were already starting to bloom across my arm where he touched me. It reminded me of when we first got together. Back then, because of my condition, I got bruised and cut constantly. But my family had just gone bankrupt, leaving us with massive debts. I had no choice but to work three jobs a day. Every night when I came home, Julian would look at my bruised body, his eyes red with tears. “I’ll pay it off for you,” he had vowed. We were just college students then. I thought he was joking. But two years later, when I went to make a payment on the remaining debt, the bank told me it had already been settled in full.

I pressed Julian until he finally admitted the truth. He had been driving long-haul trucks all night, working endless hours of manual labor just to clear my family’s name. He had gently wiped away my tears back then. “Why are you crying? I’m not tired.” Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, I knew he was lying. But his hard work paid off, and he eventually started his own successful company. After we got married, he hired four maids. He wouldn’t let me lift a single finger. Until I got pregnant. One morning, morning sickness hit me hard. I rushed to the bathroom, but some spilled water on the floor made me slip. I broke my wrist, and I lost the baby. I fell into a deep, dark depression. Julian had been devastated. He told me that if I ever ended my life, he would die right along with me. The sharp pain in my wrist pulled me back to the brutal present. “Are you already plotting how to hurt Chloe again?” Julian’s cold voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “You’re going to stay here and take care of her until she’s discharged.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. Tears slipped down my cheeks. Seeing my expression, a sudden, inexplicable panic seemed to flash in Julian’s eyes. Sensing his hesitation, Chloe immediately cried out, “Ah! It hurts, Julian! It hurts so much!” Julian’s worry for her instantly overrode his momentary guilt. But before he could yell at me again, a nurse burst into the room. “What is wrong with you? I told you your pregnancy is highly unstable. Why are you out of bed wandering around?” the nurse scolded, looking directly at me. Julian gasped, completely stunned. “Elena… you’re pregnant?” But I saw the flash of utter disbelief in his eyes. It was as if he believed it was physically impossible for me to be pregnant. He quickly called for a private nurse to watch Chloe, then practically dragged me back to my own ward. He helped me onto the bed and tried to grasp my hands. “Alright, Elena. Now that you’re pregnant, stop making a scene.” “What happened with Chloe was just a drunken mistake. I only love you. She’s your best friend, and she values your friendship so much.” “Once she gives birth, I’ll send her and both of the kids abroad. I promise.” I stared at him, my eyes filled with mockery. What was this? Shoving me to the ground, and then offering me a sweet treat to make me forget the pain? “I’ll have your mother come over to take care of you. Just be good, okay?” His phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification from Chloe. My stomach began to ache faintly, and fear crept into my chest. “Julian, I…” Before I could finish, Julian was already walking out the door. During my three days in the hospital, Julian never showed up again. I decided it was time to go back to the Vance estate and pack my things. I didn’t even have money for an Uber, so I walked all the way back in my thin hospital gown with only a coat thrown over it. But the moment I pushed the front door open, the scene before me shattered what little sanity I had left.

My Pomeranian, who had been my loyal companion for five years, was lying on the floor, barely breathing. There was blood dripping from its mouth, and traces of chocolate scattered nearby. I looked up at Chloe, who was sitting on the sofa, a smirk playing on her lips. “Why did you feed him chocolate?! You did this on purpose!” Chloe put on her signature fragile act, but her voice was dripping with venom. “The dog took after its owner—greedy and stupid. You can’t blame me for its own mistake.” Julian walked out of the bedroom holding some blankets. He looked at me with a sigh. “Come on, Elena. It’s just a dog. Chloe didn’t know dogs couldn’t eat chocolate.” “Stop being so aggressive.” I was being aggressive? Julian had clearly forgotten why we even had this dog. When we first started working, we passed by a pet store. I had fallen in love with a tiny, adorable Pomeranian in a cage. But burdened with debt, I couldn’t afford it. That same night, a group of thugs cornered me on my way home from work. Julian had arrived just in time to save me. He had been beaten black and blue, but he just grinned at me. “Let’s go home. I have a surprise for you.” When we got back, that very Pomeranian was waiting for me. Julian had taken my hands, his eyes overflowing with love. “When I’m not around, let him protect you for me.” Seeing me silent, Julian handed me the blankets he was holding. “You almost made Chloe lose her baby. For the next few weeks, she’ll be staying in the master bedroom. You can crash on the living room sofa for now.” “Let’s just consider the art gallery incident settled.” I laughed until tears came out, unable to say a word. My reaction made Julian uneasy again. But before he could speak, the front door smart-lock chimed. My mother stood at the entrance, grocery bags in hand. She froze, taking in the sight of Chloe clinging to Julian’s arm, while her own daughter stood there pale, bruised, and bleeding. A nurse from the hospital who knew my family had already warned my mother about Julian’s affair. Now, she was seeing the proof with her own eyes. My mother rushed over and shielded me behind her. “Chloe Miller! Our family took you in when your father abused you and your mother abandoned you! We paid for your college! Is this how you repay us?!” Julian’s face darkened instantly. “Your daughter is the one who tried to hurt Chloe first, and you’re blindly attacking Chloe without knowing the facts?”

“Is this how the Cole family raised you to behave, Elena?!” With that, Julian grabbed Chloe’s hand, walked out of the house, and drove away. My mother looked at me, her eyes filled with rage and heartbreak. I smiled weakly. I couldn’t even cry anymore. Our massive wedding photo still hung prominently in the living room. In it, I was smiling so brightly, believing I had run straight into a lifetime of happiness. It took me seven years to realize that some fairy tales are just horror stories in disguise. I packed up only my personal belongings, leaving behind everything Julian had ever bought me. I grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced the wedding photo right down the middle, separating Julian and me forever. When I arrived back at my parents’ house, my father didn’t say much. But his eyes were red. “Sweetheart, I’ve already wired back every single penny Julian spent to pay off our debts years ago.” “Your mother and I are still here. Don’t be afraid.” Hearing my father’s words, the emotional dam inside me finally broke. I sobbed uncontrollably in his arms. Later that evening, Julian sent me a message after finding the messy house. “Elena, how old are you? Still playing the runaway card? Grow up.” My heart was already dead, yet his words still felt like a physical stab. Suddenly, my phone lit up with a notification. It was a rejection letter from the company I had interviewed with. But just yesterday, HR had told me to expect an offer letter. I took a cab straight to the company’s office. There, in the lobby, I found Chloe sipping a latte. She looked at me, her eyes dripping with pure condescension. “Surprised? Even if it’s not Julian’s company, he still has the power to get me hired over you.” Suppressing my tears, I called Julian. “Why did you give Chloe my job?” There was a long silence on the other end. “Stop making a scene, Elena. With your Butterfly Skin, what kind of work can you even do? Chloe was just laid off and desperately needs this job.” “She’s not like you, who only knows how to live off my money.” My hand holding the phone lost all its strength and dropped to my side. Chloe smirked, leaning in close. “Want to know why Julian was so shocked when he heard you were pregnant?” “Because he’s been slipping birth control pills into your food every single day.” “He only wants babies carried by me. He’s terrified you’ll give birth to a freak just like you.” “And your miscarriage back then? He spilled that water on the floor on purpose. He hated touching your bruised, hideous body.” Chloe laughed wickedly. Her words froze me in place like an icy bucket of water. I had truly believed he loved me back then. But he had already checked out of our marriage long ago. My mind went completely blank. I clenched my fists so hard my nails cut into my palms. Chloe let out a sinister chuckle. “Want to see who Julian really cares about?” Before I could react, she clapped her hands, and a group of hired thugs burst into the office. “Take her,” she ordered. I fought back with everything I had, but their brutal grip only caused my fragile skin to tear and bruise instantly. The office was crowded, but not a single person stepped in to help me. My phone, lying on the floor, buzzed with a text from Julian. “Elena, once you’re done throwing your tantrum, come home.” I let out a bitter, lifeless laugh. With my neck bruised and swollen from their rough handling, I was dragged to a shady VIP lounge at a local bar. A group of men surrounded me, forcing alcohol down my throat. Julian, having somehow gotten word, burst into the room. When he saw me being held down and forced to drink, rage flared in his eyes. But right then, Chloe wailed from the couch. “Julian, save me!” Julian saw Chloe, who was also being held by some men. He froze, his steps toward me halting instantly. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then looked at me. “Elena, just hang in there for a moment!” He lunged at the men touching Chloe, screaming, “Get the hell off her! Don’t touch her!” Chloe was bleeding from somewhere, and Julian’s hands began to shake with panic. Without a single backward glance, he scooped her up and ran to his car. I screamed his name, but he never turned around. The men in the room turned back to me. One of them aggressively ripped the buttons off my shirt. The sheer force left deep, horrific purple bruises all over my skin. But as they stared at my body, which was rapidly turning black and blue from the minor struggle, they stopped. “What the hell is wrong with this woman?” “We barely touched her and she’s already covered in bruises. This is bad luck. Let’s get out of here!” For the first time in my life, I was grateful for my Butterfly Skin. I pulled out my phone with trembling hands and called my lawyer. “Send the divorce papers to Julian.” I gently touched my belly. Julian had been drugging me with birth control, so conceiving this child was a miracle. I couldn’t let him hurt this little life. The next morning, I boarded a plane to Europe with my parents. Julian, I hope we never meet again in this life or the next.

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I worked my fingers to the bone leading my design team to land a multi-million-dollar co-branding deal for my husband’s company. But at the victory party, my husband credited the entire success to a newly hired intern. He claimed her “fresh perspective” was the magic touch that saved the project. As a reward, he publicly gifted her a rare, limited-edition Bearbrick set worth a hundred thousand dollars. My team was devastated on my behalf. When I confronted him in private, he just pushed me away. He tossed a crumpled ten-dollar bill at my face and smirked. “At your age, Vivian, you’d look better carrying a cheap replica from the dollar store anyway.” That was the exact moment I woke up. The very next morning, I resigned, taking my entire design department with me. My husband put his arm around the intern and sneered at us. “Quit if you want. You think you’re so special? Let’s see who else will hire you!” Three months later, at the industry’s biggest brand bidding event of the year. My ex-husband walked onto the stage with his intern, holding the pitch deck my team had created, confidently babbling about his grand vision for the brand. What he didn’t know was that I had already been headhunted by the top-tier firm hosting the event, offered a massive salary package. And I was the sole decision-maker for this multi-million-dollar contract. 1. “Vivian, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once a woman loses her youth, she shouldn’t get jealous of a younger girl’s opportunities.” With that, Carter turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me with nothing but his arrogant back. I looked down at the crumpled ten-dollar bill in my hand. So, the blood, sweat, and tears of my team and me were only worth a dollar-store plastic toy in his eyes. I laughed, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling. I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and walked back to the banquet table. My assistant, Jack, looked at me with deep worry in his eyes. “Vivian, are you okay?” I slammed the ten-dollar bill onto the table. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was deadly calm. “Jack, get everyone ready.” “Tomorrow, we all quit.” The next morning at nine o’clock. I walked into Carter’s office, carrying the resignation letters of every single member of the design department. He was currently wrapping his arm around Chloe. The two of them were leaning in close, staring at his laptop screen and giggling. Seeing us walk in, Carter wasn’t surprised at all. He took the stack of resignation letters and tossed them onto his desk without even looking. “Vivian, you’re really going through with this little tantrum?” He let out a patronizing laugh, pulling Chloe even closer to his side. “You have no real talent, yet you want to play the career-woman card? I’d love to see where you can go without my platform!” Chloe leaned against his chest, casting a timid look at me before letting a smug, triumphant smile slip across her face. Carter stood up and announced loudly to the remaining office staff. “Actually, since we’re here, I have an announcement to make.” “Starting today, Chloe Bennett is the new Creative Director of this company.” A collective gasp went through the office. An intern who had only been here for three months, who didn’t even know how to use professional design software properly, was suddenly the Creative Director. It was the biggest joke in the industry. The members of my team exchanged looks of sheer disbelief and disgust. Without another word, I turned and led my team out. As we walked out of the building, I looked back at the company I had poured eight years of my life into. I felt nothing but intense nausea. That afternoon, I consulted a lawyer. The answers I got felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. Carter was the sole legal owner of the company from day one. I held absolutely zero shares in my name. When we got married, he had promised me that the company belonged to both of us, and that he would transfer half of the shares to me once things took off. Because of his sweet words, I had resigned from my high-paying job at a Fortune 500 tech giant to work day and night to build his dream. Now I realized all his promises were nothing but empty lies. My eight years of dedication were worth absolutely nothing on paper. I sat in a coffee shop, staring blankly out the window, feeling utterly hopeless. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. “Hello, is this Vivian Knight, the Creative Director?” “Yes, speaking.” “Hi Vivian, I’m Sarah Jenkins, the Project Director for the brand collaboration. I wanted to coordinate with you on the detailed design guidelines for the launch.” It was the client. I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to sound as calm as possible. “Sarah, I’m so sorry, but I have officially resigned from that company.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Resigned? Did your entire team leave too?” “Yes, we did.” Suddenly, Sarah’s voice turned incredibly excited. “Oh, thank god! Vivian, to be completely honest with you, we signed this deal because of your team, not Carter’s company!” I froze. “We did an internal review, and your design concept aligns perfectly with our brand’s future direction. Honestly, we were terrified they would swap you out for someone else and ruin the project quality.” “Now that you’re independent, this makes things so much easier.” Her words were like a ray of sunlight piercing through my darkest hour. “Vivian, on behalf of my company, I want to officially invite you and your entire team to join us.” “We will double your current salaries.” “We are creating a brand-new core brand management division, and you will lead it as the Executive Director.” “We want you to bring your entire team over to us.” 2. Double the salary. A core executive role. Taking my entire team with me. I pressed my fingernails hard into my palm, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. “Sarah, thank you so much for the offer. We just finished our exit process, so we still have some paperwork to sort through.” “No problem at all. We can wait. Elite talent is always worth waiting for.” “I’ll email you the official letter of intent. Take your time looking it over. No rush to reply.” After hanging up, I looked at the sky outside. For the first time in years, it looked beautiful. My phone buzzed again. It was a Snapchat message from Carter. “Vivian, I know you’re still angry. Stop being childish. Does our eight-year relationship really mean less to you than a temporary ego trip?” “Okay, I admit I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” “Just come back. Help Chloe settle into her role and hand over the remaining project files. Once this busy season is over, I’ll plan a lavish public apology for you, okay?” Staring at the screen, my stomach churned with disgust. *Help Chloe settle into her role.* How could he even say that? I shut off my phone, completely ignoring the message. The game had just begun. I used my own savings to throw a massive “Independence Party” for my team at the best five-star hotel in the city. We were celebrating our freedom from that toxic environment and welcoming our new lives. Everyone raised their glasses, their faces filled with relief and excitement for the future. “Vivian, thank god we got out of there with you. I would’ve lost my mind staying at that place!” “Exactly! Making an intern the Creative Director? Has Carter completely lost his mind?” “He’s probably freaking out right now!” After a few drinks, we started discussing the details of our co-branding design. “The core design concept, ‘Metamorphosis,’ and all the detailed brand guidelines—the absolute complete versions are only in our heads,” Jack said with a grin. “I played it safe before we left. The files I uploaded to the company server were just the basic templates. None of the advanced applications or special printing specs were in there.” I nodded. “Good job. That knowledge is our intellectual property.” When Monday came around. Carter and his brand-new “Creative Director,” Chloe, officially started the hand-off process with the client. And very quickly, they ran into a wall. The client needed the complete brand guidelines manual for production and marketing. They searched through every single file on the company server but couldn’t find a thing. Relying on her basic school knowledge, Chloe pulled several all-nighters to put together some rough design drafts. The next day, Sarah Jenkins rejected them immediately. Sarah CC’d the entire executive board on the email, and her tone was incredibly harsh: “These designs show a complete lack of understanding of our brand identity. The colors, typography, and layout are amateur at best! Are we dealing with professionals here?” Chloe broke down crying in the middle of the office. It didn’t take long for Carter’s call to come through to my phone. “Vivian Knight! What is the meaning of this? You stole the source design files and the manual before you left?!” His voice was shaking with rage. I sat in my new executive office, looking out at the beautiful river view, and answered him calmly. “Carter, watch your mouth. Every file I handed over was documented and signed for.” “As for the advanced manual you’re talking about, that is the proprietary creative asset of my team. It’s our intellectual property. We have no obligation to give it to you.” “You wouldn’t dare!” he roared over the phone. “I’ll sue you for stealing company secrets!” I let out a soft laugh, reminding him of a very important fact he had overlooked. “Carter, we never signed an NDA or a non-compete clause.” “Furthermore, under intellectual property laws, the creative copyright of that specific concept belongs to me personally. Are you sure you want to take me to court?” There was nothing but heavy, panicked breathing on the other end. He slammed the phone down. 3. The client kept putting pressure on Carter’s company. Because the design standards couldn’t be confirmed, the entire multi-million-dollar project came to a screeching halt. Several major distributors who had already signed contracts began expressing their frustration. Carter’s company’s reputation was tanking fast. Chloe was completely useless. Aside from crying, she did nothing but complain to Carter that the client was “bullying” her on purpose. The office was filled with panic, and rumors were flying. Carter was losing his mind. He put out an urgent, high-paying job posting, stating he would pay whatever it took to hire a design expert who could solve their current brand crisis. However, a week went by, and not a single qualified designer applied. The industry circle was small. Everyone knew I was the mastermind behind the project. No one wanted to step into this mess, and certainly, no one wanted to offend me and my powerful new employer. He had backed himself into a corner. Just as Carter was about to completely despair, an agency calling themselves “Apex Design Agency” reached out to him. They claimed they had been studying my design style for years and guaranteed they could recreate a perfect replica of the brand manual. Chloe treated them like a savior. She whispered sweet nothings in Carter’s ear, saying this agency probably wanted to help them because they hated how I had abandoned the company. “Carter, see? Good things happen to good people! Vivian is just a bitter, petty woman!” Carter let himself be convinced. He gritted his teeth and hired the outside agency at three times the market rate. Three days later, they delivered a manual that looked flawless on the surface. Carter immediately forwarded it to the client. After reviewing it, Sarah only sent back a short sentence: “You may proceed.” Carter and Chloe were ecstatic. They thought the crisis was completely over. The very next day, Carter called an all-hands meeting. During the meeting, he publicly attacked me for “having no professional ethics, leaving traps in the files, and trying to blackmail the company.” He looked absolutely radiant and triumphant. “This just proves that nobody is irreplaceable! Some people shouldn’t think so highly of themselves!” “As of today, our company has officially severed all ties with the former design team. We have absolutely nothing to do with them anymore!” The employees in the audience had mixed expressions, but no one dared to speak up. I sat in my new company’s boardroom, watching the video of his passionate speech, and smiled. I was waiting for him to say exactly that. I immediately had my lawyer draft a legal notice based on his public declaration of “severing all ties.” I demanded that his company pay out the multi-million-dollar project bonuses he had promised my team, along with our full severance packages. With his written promises and his freshly publicized video admitting we had “no further ties,” he couldn’t find a single excuse to wriggle out of it. To save his company’s reputation, he was forced to wire the massive sum. His company’s cash flow, which was already strained from the project delay, took a devastating hit. Looking at the string of zeros added to my bank account, I felt no emotion. We earned every single cent of it. That same afternoon. I received an email from the parent company’s headquarters. It was from the secretary of the CEO. I clicked it open, and the subject line read: *“Official Appointment of Vivian Knight as the General Chairperson for the Upcoming Annual Brand Bidding Event.”* Three months later. Late autumn. The industry’s largest annual brand bidding event was held at the International Exhibition Center. I sat in the very center of the judges’ panel as the Executive Brand Director of the client firm. Below the stage sat representatives from the country’s top marketing agencies and design firms. My ex-husband, Carter, and his new Creative Director, Chloe, had arrived. They walked into the venue looking incredibly confident, wearing matching smug smiles. Carter spotted me almost instantly. He froze for a second, then a mocking sneer spread across his face. He whispered something to Chloe. I could read his lips perfectly. *”Look, some people can only get into these high-level events to spy on my success.”* Chloe covered her mouth and let out a soft giggle, her eyes filled with condescension. They genuinely believed I was just a former employee who had snuck in to watch and learn. My colleagues on the panel and several industry peers who knew my new position looked at him like he was a total clown. But he was completely oblivious. The host took the stage and began introducing the judges. “First, let us welcome with a warm round of applause, the General Chairperson of this bidding event, and our core Executive Brand Director—Ms. Vivian Knight!” The spotlight instantly locked onto me. I watched the smug smile on Carter’s face freeze instantly.

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I have mutism, but I wasn’t born with it. When I was five, I cried out that I was hungry. My foster mother locked me in an abandoned warehouse because of it. She told me I could come out when I learned to shut up. I never spoke another word after that. At eighteen, the wealthy Shaw family of New York found me. They told me I was their real daughter. But on my first night home, Chloe, the girl who had lived my life for eighteen years, started packing her bags with tearful eyes. “Are you hoping that if you stay silent, Mom and Dad will kick me out?” “If my leaving makes you happy, Maya, I’ll go right now!” I froze and raised my hands to sign: [No, I just can’t speak.] But no one understood sign language. Chloe bit her lip, tears spilling over. “I know you hate me for stealing eighteen years of your life. You can scream at me, hit me.” “But please, can you tell them not to discard me just because you’re back?” My brother, Julian, stepped in front of her and glared at me coldly. “Chloe is already begging you, Maya. How much further are you going to push her?” “Is it really that hard to just say something?” Everyone was waiting for me to speak. After a moment of silence, I pulled out my phone and slowly typed a line: “I’m sorry, but I haven’t spoken a word since I was five.” … ##

The living room fell dead silent. Mom was the first to snap out of it. She took a few steps toward me, her lips trembling. “What do you mean? What do you mean you haven’t spoken since you were five?” I raised my hands. I wanted to tell her that every time I tried to make a sound, that pitch-black warehouse would flash before my eyes. But she couldn’t read my hands. I could only lower my head and continue typing. “I can’t make any sound.” Julian frowned. “When we found you, your foster parents never mentioned this.” My fingers paused on the screen. The day the Shaws came for me, my foster mother, Brenda, had held my hand tightly. She had wept hysterically in front of everyone. She claimed she had raised me like her own biological daughter. She said she wanted no reward from the Shaws, only hoping I wouldn’t forget her. From beginning to end, she never asked me a single question. Because she knew very well that I couldn’t answer. Chloe suddenly set her suitcase down and walked over cautiously. “Maya, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you couldn’t speak.” “I must have misunderstood you just now and made you upset.” She reached out, trying to grab my wrist. The moment her hand touched my skin, I flinched and stepped back. Her eyes immediately welled with tears again. “Do you still hate me touching you?” Julian’s expression, which had softened for a second, turned cold again. “Maya, Chloe already apologized to you.” I looked at him and didn’t move. Mom placed a hand on Julian’s arm. “That’s enough. Today is Maya’s first day back. Don’t push her.” She wanted to touch my cheek, but her hand stopped halfway, as if she was afraid of startling me. In the end, she only gently adjusted my crooked collar. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the hospital. Whatever the reason is, we will cure it slowly.” I nodded. That night, for the first time in my life, I slept in a bed so soft. But I didn’t dare turn off the lights. In the middle of the night, whispered voices drifted from outside my door. “Julian, do you think she’s just pretending to be mute because she doesn’t want to call you guys family?” Chloe’s voice was very soft, laced with a quiet sob. Julian was silent for a while. “We’ll know after the doctor examines her.” “What if it’s true?” “Then we will definitely get her cured.” “And what if she’s lying?” “…” It went quiet outside the door. A moment later, Julian replied in a cold, detached voice: “The Shaw family has room for a sick daughter, but we have no room for a liar.” … The next day, Dr. Evans finished my examination and took off his stethoscope. “There is no structural damage to her vocal cords. Her mutism isn’t physiological.” “Based on her behavior, it is closer to psychogenic mutism caused by severe psychological trauma.” Mom’s face drained of color. “What kind of trauma could keep a child silent for thirteen years?” Dr. Evans glanced at the faded, pale scars on my wrists. “You’ll have to ask the people who raised her.” Standing by the door, Chloe’s expression froze. ##

My foster parents arrived that afternoon. The moment Brenda entered, she lunged at me, grabbing my shoulders and scanning me up and down. “Maya, why are you still playing mute?” “You’re back with your rich parents now. Why are you bringing those old tricks here?” Mom gasped. “Playing mute?” “This girl has been like this since she was a kid. Whenever she’s unhappy, she stops talking just to make everyone guess what’s on her mind.” Brenda wiped her non-existent tears, her words rushing out like a flood. “When she was five, she stole money from us. We scolded her a bit, and she threw a tantrum and refused to speak.” “Since then, whenever outsiders are around, she plays the miserable victim. But once we get home and discipline her, she speaks perfectly fine.” My entire body went rigid. No! That’s not how it happened! I didn’t steal any money when I was five. That day, my foster father got drunk and knocked over the last bits of food in the pantry. I was starving, so I went to the kitchen to ask Brenda when we could eat. She found my crying annoying, so she dragged me into the abandoned warehouse and locked me inside for two whole days. I signed frantically. [She is lying! She locked me up for two days. It was pitch black. No water, no food.] Brenda couldn’t understand me, but as if she had prepared for this, she threw her hands up and cried out to the room. “Look at her! This is exactly what she does!” “Every time she doesn’t want to admit she’s wrong, she makes these random gestures that nobody can understand, making herself look like a poor, abused victim.” Chloe asked softly, “Brenda, did Maya really speak in front of you?” “Of course she did!” “Has anyone else ever heard her besides you two?” Brenda hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slapped her thigh. “We lived together as a family every single day. Why would we need witnesses?” “Do you think we raised her for eighteen years just to maliciously frame her?” The pity on Mom’s face slowly turned into hesitation. My father, Arthur Shaw, remained silent for a long time. Finally, he looked at me and asked in a low voice, “Maya, are you willing to try calling me Dad?” I opened my mouth. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with dusty cotton. I couldn’t even force out a whisper. Julian stared at me. “You can’t call him, or you just don’t want to?” I pulled out my phone: “I really can’t.” Brenda sighed. “You all have to walk on eggshells around her from now on.” “She knows exactly how to manipulate people. The more attention you give her, the worse she gets.” Mom suddenly asked, “Then what about the scars on her wrists?” Brenda’s face tightened. “Kids in the countryside get bumps and bruises all the time. Isn’t that normal?” I quickly rolled up my sleeves. In addition to my wrists, there were circular scars from cigarette burns on the inner side of my arms, and white rope marks from being tied up. Brenda rushed forward and violently pulled my sleeves back down. “You silly girl, why are you stripping in front of everyone!” Mom’s eyes locked onto those scars, turning red instantly. As the tension peaked, Chloe suddenly clutched her chest, her breathing turning shallow and rapid as she collapsed onto the sofa. “Chloe!” Everyone rushed to her side. The family doctor examined her and said she was just suffering from hyperventilation due to extreme anxiety. It was nothing serious. Leaning against Mom’s chest, Chloe still didn’t forget to “defend” me. “It’s all my fault. I’m not mature enough.” “Maya must have suffered a lot in the past. That’s why she mistakes discipline for abuse.” With one sentence, she excused my foster parents’ abuse and turned my traumatic memories into exaggeration and revenge. Before leaving, Brenda walked past me and whispered in my ear: “Don’t think you can settle old scores just because you’re in the Shaw house. If you dare speak a word against us, I got them to bring you back, and I can get them to throw you right back to me.” That night, Mom told me she had hired a professional sign language teacher. “It’s okay if you don’t want to speak. You don’t have to change. We will learn to understand you.” For a moment, I thought that maybe coming back here wasn’t a bad thing. But outside the door, Chloe watched me silently for a very long time. ##

A week later, I transferred to the same private school Chloe attended. The teacher placed my desk right next to hers. “Chloe, your sister is new here and doesn’t know her way around. Take good care of her.” Chloe smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, Ms. Davis. I’ll take great care of her.” And she did. When people curiously asked why I didn’t speak, Chloe would explain with teary eyes that I had suffered a lot growing up, asking them not to discriminate against me. Within a day, the entire class knew I was the biological daughter recently recovered by the Shaw family. They also knew that after my return, I had used my mutism to guilt-trip my parents, almost forcing their adopted daughter to run away from home. During lunch break, a group of girls gathered around my desk. A girl named Amber Kelly made a few random gestures with her hands and laughed. “I’ve learned some sign language. Can you understand this?” She had signed: [How many books did you eat today?] It was a completely meaningless sentence. Thinking she had made a mistake, I patiently corrected her, showing her that the signs for “book” and “food” were different. Amber stared at me for two seconds, then burst out laughing. “Chloe, she doesn’t even know sign language.” Everyone in the classroom looked over. Chloe acted surprised. “How is that possible? Maya always communicates with us using sign language at home.” “She’s signing complete gibberish. Her hand shapes and grammar are totally wrong.” Amber raised her phone, showing a few search results of sign language gestures on her screen. “My aunt is deaf. I’ve known sign language since I was a kid. Real sign language looks nothing like what she’s doing.” I quickly typed on my phone to explain: “ASL has regional dialects and informal signs. Your signs were incomplete.” Amber read it and sneered. “Got caught, and now you’re making excuses?” Whispers erupted around us. “Her foster parents said she could talk, right?” “Maybe she’s just trying to gain sympathy.” “The real daughter just got back, of course she wants to kick the adopted one out.” I looked at Chloe. She immediately grabbed my hand and shook her head at the others. “Don’t talk about my sister like that.” “Even if she can actually speak, she must have her own reasons for staying silent.” Her words sounded like a defense, but they only cemented the belief that I was faking it. … In the afternoon, I went to the main office to submit some paperwork. When I returned, my sign language notebook had been ripped to shreds and scattered in the trash can. Amber crossed her arms. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.” I knelt down and picked up the pieces, one by one. That notebook was given to me by Granny Nora, a deaf neighbor, when I was six. Back then, everyone thought I was just being stubborn, but she was the only one who never forced me to speak. The first sign she taught me was “I’m hungry.” The second was “I did nothing wrong.” Chloe knelt down to help me pick up the paper, her tears falling first. “Maya, I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t doubt you like this.” I looked up at her. She leaned in, whispering in a voice only I could hear: “Who do you think they’ll believe? A girl who can’t even speak a word, or the daughter who has been by their side for eighteen years?” Before the last class of the day, the teacher asked me to go to the office to hand in the rest of my transfer documents. Once the classroom was empty, Chloe took my phone and sent a Snapchat to my mother. “I’m having a hard time adjusting to school. There are some things I want to tell you in person.” “Can you guys come over after school?” After school ended, Chloe sent me a text on iMessage: “I found evidence of your foster mother admitting to abusing you. She’s terrified Mom and Dad will find out and wants me to delete it.” “If you want the evidence, come to the warehouse behind the auditorium.” I stared at the text for a long time. Ultimately, I went alone. ##

The warehouse door was slightly ajar. It was dark inside, with only a small window near the ceiling letting in a faint sliver of twilight. I stood at the entrance, hesitating. Chloe sent another message: “The evidence is on the old computer in the back. If you’re too scared to come in, I guess you don’t care about proving yourself.” I gripped my phone tightly and stepped inside. The corners were piled with old stage props and leftover paint cans. An old computer sat on a wooden desk. Its screen was lit, displaying a single audio file. The moment my hand touched the mouse, I heard a sharp click behind me. The door was locked. I rushed over and pounded on the door, but there was no response from the outside. The smell of paint thinner in the warehouse was overwhelming. As the darkness deepened, the memories of thirteen years ago flooded back. The five-year-old me, huddled next to a cardboard box, crying and begging for food. Outside the door, Brenda kicked the wooden panel impatiently. “Shut up! Cry again and you’ll stay in there forever!” I began to gasp for air. At the same time, Mom, Dad, and Julian arrived at the school. As they were heading toward my classroom, Chloe walked over from the direction of the auditorium, holding a stack of notebooks. Seeing them, she stopped in her tracks, a perfect expression of surprise on her face. “Mom, Dad, Julian? What are you doing here?” Mom showed her phone. “Maya asked us to come.” “She said she’s having trouble adjusting and wants to talk to us in person.” Chloe froze for a few seconds, and then, as if realizing something, her face went pale. “There’s something… I don’t know if I should show you.” She led the three of them into a private meeting room. After some hesitation, she pulled out an audio recording. “I found this by accident today when I was helping Maya grab her iPad.” “I was going to ask her about it when she got home, but I didn’t expect her to call you to school first.” In the recording, a young girl’s voice said clearly: “I’ll lock myself in the warehouse and pretend to have a panic attack. Then I’ll text them.” “Once they rush over to save me, they’ll believe my foster parents abused me.” “By then, nothing Chloe says will matter anymore.” Mom’s face went white. “Is that… Maya’s voice?” “I don’t know,” Chloe said, biting her lip. “I found it on her iPad.” “I wish it wasn’t her, but some kids at school said they’ve heard her talking in private.” Julian sneered. “No wonder she insisted on transferring to this school. She even picked out the warehouse in advance.” Right then, Mom’s phone buzzed. It was a text from me: “I’m locked in the warehouse behind the auditorium. Please, help me!” Mom stood up abruptly. “Whether it’s real or not, we have to go check!” But Chloe held her back. “Mom, if you go now, aren’t you falling right into her trap?” “She knows how much you care about her, so she keeps pushing your limits.” Dad frowned deeply, but instead of texting, he initiated a FaceTime call to my phone. I answered it immediately. The screen was dark. They could only see my pale, sweat-slicked face and my violently trembling hands. I signed to them desperately: [The door is locked from the outside.] [The paint smell is too strong. I can’t breathe.] [Please, hurry!] Julian stared at the screen, his face grim. “Maya, we already heard the recording.” “You went through all this trouble to lock yourself in just to see if we’d rescue you?” “Tell us where you are with your voice, and I’ll come get you right now.” “If you’re going to keep playing these hand-sign games that nobody can understand, then stay in there and think about what you’ve done!” I shook my head frantically. My fingers were shaking so hard I couldn’t even form the signs correctly anymore. [I’m not lying.] [The door is really locked.] [Mom, I’m scared.] Julian turned his head away in annoyance. Mom’s eyes were red. She reached for the phone several times, but the memory of that recording kept her paralyzed. “Maya, just say one word.” “Just say anything, and Mom will come get you!” I opened my mouth, pouring every ounce of strength I had left into my throat, but only a ragged, broken gasp came out. On their end, the door to the meeting room was suddenly pushed open. A middle-aged woman walked in. “Mrs. Shaw? I’m Ms. Miller, the sign language teacher you hired.” “I’m so sorry, the traffic was terrible.” “You texted me saying Maya was having communication issues at school and told me to meet you here directly.” The moment her eyes fell on the FaceTime screen, she froze. In the next second, she snatched the phone out of Mom’s hand and stared intently at my gestures and the dark background. “Where is this child?!” Chloe’s expression flickered. “She’s just throwing a tantrum with the family…” Ms. Miller snapped her head up, her face dead serious. “She is using highly fluent, natural ASL!” “She’s saying the door is locked from the outside, the warehouse has toxic chemical fumes, and she is suffocating!” “Her last sign wasn’t a tantrum!” Ms. Miller spun the screen toward them. On the screen, I had already slid down the wall onto the floor. My fingers were unconsciously repeating the same trembling gesture over and over. “She is crying for her mother!”

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On the day we moved into our new apartment, the technician told us that the smart lock could only register four master fingerprints. Dad registered his. Mom registered hers. My brother, Brandon, registered his. Even Brandon’s girlfriend of six months, Ashley, got her fingerprint registered. When it was finally my turn, Mom shut the door in my face. “You live on campus anyway. You barely come home, so there’s no need for you to have access.” On the first day of winter break, I took three different greyhound buses and finally made it back to this “new home” late at night. The lock screen kept flashing red. I pressed the doorbell until the battery died. I called every single one of them, but my calls were repeatedly hung up. I sat in the cold, dark stairwell until sunrise. Only later did I find out that they had taken Brandon’s girlfriend out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate purchasing the new place. When Mom finally came back and saw me, her only reaction was irritation. “You’re bringing us bad luck, crouching at the doorstep like a beggar.” A month later, Dad had a severe asthma attack at home. Standing outside the door, I could hear his weak, desperate cries for help. “Help… open the door… medicine… on the coffee table…” The building superintendent urged me to hurry up and open the door. But…I didn’t have a registered fingerprint.

The sound of something heavy crashing to the floor echoed from inside. Marcus, the superintendent standing beside me, was sweating bullets. “Chloe, hurry up and open the door! What are you waiting for?” “I don’t have a registered fingerprint.” “Look.” I pressed my hand against the black scanner. The red light flashed three times. *Access Denied.* Marcus gasped, frantically pounding on the door. “Arthur! Arthur! Can you hear me?” No response. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was Dad. His voice came through the speaker, gasping and disconnected. “Medicine… TV stand… Chloe…” The next second, the line went dead. He didn’t hang up. Either his phone had run out of battery, or it had dropped and shattered on the floor. Marcus looked at me, his voice trembling. “Call 911. Call the paramedics and a locksmith. Now!” As I dialed 911, footsteps echoed down the hallway. A neighbor poked her head out, asking if everything was okay. Marcus grabbed his toolbox, asking, “Who else in your family has access?” “My mom, my brother, and his girlfriend.” “Call them! Every single one of them!” I called my mother, Sarah. It rang until it went to voicemail. I called my brother, Brandon. No answer. I called his girlfriend, Ashley. She hung up on me, but sent a quick text on Snapchat: *Chloe, stop making a scene. We’re having dinner.* Looking at the words “stop making a scene,” my hands and feet went completely numb. Marcus called three different locksmiths. The first said it was too late to come out. The second said the homeowner had to be present. The third, hearing that it was a medical emergency, finally agreed to come in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. The man inside might not even have twenty seconds. Marcus raised a crowbar, looking at me. “Do we break it?” “Do it.” Just as I spoke, Mom’s callback came through. The background was loud. People were singing and laughing. “Chloe, what is wrong with you? Why are you calling like crazy in the middle of the night?” “Dad’s having an asthma attack. The door is locked.” There was a second of silence on the other end. Then, her voice shrieked, “The medicine is right under the TV stand! Can’t you just open the door and get it?” “I don’t have a registered fingerprint.” The line went quiet. Then, Brandon’s voice cut in, annoyed. “Stop playing victim, Chloe. Isn’t the passcode your birthday?” “The passcode was changed a long time ago.” “Who changed it?” Silence. No one answered. In the background, I heard Ashley murmur softly, “We’re celebrating our new apartment today. This is so depressing.” Her voice was crystal clear through the receiver. Marcus snatched the phone from my hand and screamed into it, “Your husband is dying in there! Get your asses back here right now!” Mom finally seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. Her voice shook, but she still directed her fury at me. “You stay right at that door! Don’t touch anything! If anything happens to your father, I will make you pay!” Just as the crowbar wedged into the door frame, the firefighters arrived. The locksmith ran up the stairs, panting. They crowded around the door, working in a frenzy. The smart lock’s alarm shrieked in high-pitched bursts. I was shoved to the corner, my back pressed against the cold hallway tile. When the door finally flew open, the living room lights were blazing. Dad was collapsed next to the coffee table, his right hand stretched toward the TV stand. His fingertips were just inches away from the drawer. The paramedics immediately knelt down to perform CPR. Mom and the others still hadn’t arrived. The hallway echoed only with the paramedic’s urgent shouts. “Clear! Oxygen!” “Epinephrine!” “Keep compressing!” I stood just outside the entryway, my feet glued to the floor. The drawer under the TV stand was half-open. The white bottle of his inhaler peeked through the gap. As they lifted Dad onto the stretcher, the medicine bottle rolled out of the drawer. It rolled across the hardwood floor and stopped right against my shoe.

The red light of the emergency room stayed on for forty-seven minutes. When Mom finally rushed in, her hair was disheveled. She was still clutching a leftover cake box from their celebration dinner. The sweet, sickening smell of whipped cream wafted from the box, making my stomach churn. “Where is your father?” “In surgery.” The moment the words left my mouth, a sharp slap stung my face. Everyone in the hallway turned to look. Mom’s palm was red. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Chloe, how could you be so heartless?” My ears rang. I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. Brandon rushed forward and grabbed my collar, shaking me. “You were standing right at the door and did nothing? You just watched him die?!” Marcus quickly stepped in to pull him off me. “Brandon, stop blaming her! Chloe called 911, and she called the locksmith. She literally couldn’t get in because she didn’t have access!” “Then why didn’t she break the door?” “We did! We broke it, and the fire department had to help!” Mom glared at Marcus. “This is family business. Keep out of it!” Ashley stood behind Brandon, her eyes perfectly red with tears. “Chloe, I know you’ve always felt like your parents favored Brandon, but your dad was innocent. How could you take it out on him?” Her words were like a bucket of filthy water poured over my head. I stared at her. “You hung up on me.” She bit her lip. “I thought you were throwing another tantrum. How was I supposed to know it was real?” “I sent you a text saying Dad was having an attack.” “The restaurant was too loud. I didn’t see it.” Brandon sneered. “You always do this. Whenever something goes wrong, you blame everyone else.” The nurse pushed the double doors open. “We need a family member to sign the critical condition notice.” Mom’s knees buckled. Brandon and Ashley immediately caught her. Nobody looked at me. The nurse asked, “Who is the immediate next of kin?” “I am his wife.” Mom snatched the pen, her hand shaking violently. As she was about to sign, she suddenly stopped. She turned her tear-stained face toward me. “Chloe. Get on your knees.” The hallway fell dead silent. “Kneel in front of the operating room. Beg God to let him live.” My chest felt suffocated. Dad hadn’t been the perfect father. But he had carried me to the clinic when I was sick as a kid, and he had once secretly slipped a hundred dollars into my bag for college. Before I could speak, Brandon’s heavy hand slammed down on my shoulder, forcing me down. My knees hit the hard tile with a sickening crack. Tears of pain instantly welled in my eyes. Mom buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “Arthur, look at your precious daughter. She finally admits she was wrong.” Ashley knelt beside me, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Chloe, just apologize. Don’t make your mom suffer any more than she already is.” Apologize for what? For not having a fingerprint? For being locked out of my own home? For the four of them celebrating while leaving Dad alone to die? The doors swung open again. The doctor stepped out, taking off his mask. His face was a mask of exhaustion. “We did everything we could. I’m sorry.” Mom let out a piercing shriek and collapsed backward. Brandon grabbed the doctor’s coat. “How? Is it because she called too late? If he had gotten his medication earlier, would he have made it?” The doctor was silent for a moment. “It was a severe attack. But yes, with asthma, every second counts. The sooner the intervention, the higher the survival rate.” Brandon whipped around to look at me. His eyes looked like he had finally found his murderer. “Chloe.” Mom pushed herself up against the wall, walking toward me step by step. Her voice was like gravel. “You killed your father.” Inside the room, the white sheet was pulled over Dad’s face.

The funeral was scheduled for three days later. The living room was crowded with funeral wreaths. A black-and-white photo of Dad hung in the center. His smile in the photo was stiff—it was just an ID photo taken during his physical exam last year. All the relatives showed up. Aunt Linda walked in and immediately hugged Mom, weeping. “Sarah, Arthur’s passing was too sudden.” Mom cried so hard she could barely stand, but she didn’t forget to drag me in front of everyone. “Ask her! She stood right outside the door and refused to open it. She watched her own father suffocate to death!” Every eye in the room fell on me. Some held pity, some held disgust, and some held the cheap excitement of watching family drama. Aunt Linda wiped her tears and asked, “Chloe, is that true? You really didn’t open the door?” “I didn’t have a registered fingerprint, and I didn’t know the new passcode.” Cousin Jason chimed in. “What daughter doesn’t know her own house passcode? Your parents raised you for twenty years, stop making excuses.” Marcus came by that day too, holding a bouquet of white lilies. Hearing this, he frowned. “Their smart lock only had four registered users. Chloe wasn’t one of them. I was there that night. I can testify to that.” Mom immediately wailed louder. “If she didn’t have access, why didn’t she say so earlier? We raised her for twenty years, was I supposed to beg her to register her finger?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. But the moment I laughed, Aunt Linda’s face hardened. “Your father just passed away, and you’re laughing?” Ashley, wearing a modest black dress, walked over with swollen eyes and held my arm. To anyone else, she looked like a grieving, caring future daughter-in-law. But her fingernails dug deep into my flesh. “Chloe, please stop triggering your mom.” “Let go of me.” “Just apologize, and let this whole thing go.” *Let it go?* Dad was lying in a cold drawer at the morgue, and I was still waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of pounding doors. And she wanted me to just “let it go.” Brandon walked out of the bedroom, slamming a piece of paper onto the coffee table. “Chloe. Sign this.” On it was a typed statement: *I, Chloe Miller, acknowledge that due to personal resentment, I intentionally delayed rescue efforts for my father, Arthur Miller. I agree to assume full responsibility for his funeral expenses, outstanding debts, and my mother’s future financial support.* The signature line at the bottom was blank. I looked up at him. “Are you insane?” Brandon’s face was livid. “You killed him. You don’t think you should pay for it?” Mom lunged forward, grabbing my hand. “Sign it! You have to sign it! If you don’t, I will go to your university and make sure everyone knows what a heartless monster you are!” My wrist was bruised red under her grip. Ashley took a pen from her bag and forced it into my palm. “Chloe, just sign. Your brother is under so much pressure with his mortgage, and your mom’s health is failing. When you make a mistake, you have to take responsibility.” They didn’t want an apology. They wanted a scapegoat to carry Dad’s debts, his funeral costs, and the burden of their future financial lives. As the tip of the pen touched the paper, a raspy voice echoed from the doorway. “Don’t you dare sign that.” Grandma Evelyn stood there, leaning heavily on her cane. Mom’s face fell when she saw her. “Mom, what are you doing here?” Grandma Evelyn ignored her, slowly walking over to me. She gently cupped my cheek. “Chloe, my poor child, does it hurt?” Those words broke the dam. The tears I had held back for three days finally spilled over. Mom’s face turned icy. “Why would she be hurting? It’s her father who’s dead.” Grandma Evelyn looked at the paper on the table, picked it up, and tore it in half right in front of all the relatives. Brandon lost his temper. “Grandma! Stop defending her!” Grandma Evelyn pointed her cane at him. “The four of you registered your fingers and locked her out. Now that Arthur is gone, you want to pin his death on her? Brandon, is this the kind of man your father raised you to be?” Brandon’s face went pale. Aunt Linda frowned. “But Evelyn, you can’t blame a smart lock for a tragedy like this.” Grandma Evelyn stared directly at Mom. “Sarah, do you dare deny that you were the one who refused to let Chloe register her fingerprint?” Mom’s lips trembled. She avoided her gaze. For the first time, the room went completely quiet. Right then, Ashley suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed onto the sofa. “Brandon… I feel so dizzy…” Everyone instantly crowded around her. Brandon held her in his arms, crying out, “Ashley! Don’t scare me like this! My dad just left, if anything happens to you, I don’t want to live either!” Mom screamed at me, “What are you standing there for? Go get her some water!” The torn pieces of the agreement lay on the floor, fluttering right against the tip of my shoe.

On the day of the funeral, it rained. The cemetery steps were slick. Mom was supported by Brandon the entire way. Ashley held a black umbrella, walking ahead, her shoulders shaking as she wept. The relatives whispered about how dutiful she was. “Such a tragedy before they even got married. Poor girl.” “Arthur really missed out on a good daughter-in-law.” When it was my turn to lay down a flower, Mom blocked me. “Don’t touch your father.” Rainwater dripped down the ribs of my umbrella onto my hand. The petals of the white rose in my hand were crushed. “I am his daughter.” Mom’s eyes were filled with pure venom. “He called you before he died, and you let him suffocate. You don’t deserve to stand here.” The crowd began to whisper. Aunt Linda tried to quiet her down. “Sarah, please, not today.” But Mom raised her voice even higher. “I’m not the one causing trouble, she is!” She whipped out a stack of medical bills and slammed them against my chest. “The funeral costs are $8,000. The burial plot is $25,000. Your father owed another $5,000 to relatives before he died. If you don’t pay your share today, don’t even think about leaving.” The paper, wet from the rain, clung to my coat. “I’m still a student.” Brandon scoffed. “So what? Don’t you get scholarships? Don’t you work part-time? You pay for your crimes, and you pay your debts.” Ashley added softly, “Chloe, Brandon and I have a mortgage to pay, and your mom only has us now. You can’t just think about yourself.” Every word she spoke was soft, yet every word shoved me closer to the edge. Aunt Linda sighed. “Chloe, your family is going through a hard time. Be reasonable. Don’t be selfish.” Grandma Evelyn stepped forward under her umbrella. “The law decides who inherits debt, not your loud mouths.” Mom snapped at Grandma Evelyn. “Shut up! If you hadn’t spoiled her so much back then, she wouldn’t have turned out this heartless!” Grandma Evelyn began to cough violently from anger. I reached out to support her, but Mom shoved me away. “Stop acting like you care!” Grandma Evelyn’s foot slipped on the wet steps. She began to fall backward. I lunged and managed to grab her, but my knees slammed heavily against the concrete steps. My umbrella rolled away, and the cold rain instantly soaked my hair. Grandma’s cane fell into the mud. Gasps erupted from the crowd. Mom froze for a fraction of a second, but quickly looked away. “Nice acting.” My knees burned with pain. My jeans were torn, and blood mixed with rainwater was running down my leg. Grandma held my hand, her lips pale with fury. “Sarah… you will regret this.” Mom laughed coldly. “The only thing I regret is giving birth to her.” Those words were colder than the rain. As Dad’s urn was lowered into the ground, Brandon, Ashley, and Mom stepped forward. When I tried to step up, Brandon blocked me. “You don’t have the right.” Grandma Evelyn finally snapped. She raised her hand and slapped Mom across the face. The loud *crack* echoed through the pouring rain. Mom clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. “You hit me? For her?!” Grandma pointed her trembling cane at the grave. “If Arthur could wake up right now, the first thing he would ask is: Why didn’t Chloe have access to her own home?” Everyone’s faces changed. In front of the headstone, Mom suddenly screamed and lunged at me, clawing at my clothes.

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On the day Ethan Carter’s first love returned to the country, he handed me a dissolution agreement. “Seraphina’s health is fragile. She suffered a lot in Europe because of me. I need you to pack up and move out of the Carter Estate. The Southside Villa is yours.” “From now on, we’ll tell the public you’re just a distant relative the Carters took in.” I stared at him. Five years of devotion, all boiled down to the words “distant relative.” I tore the agreement to shreds, turned around, and walked out of his life. Later, at the International Tech Summit, a mysterious female CEO stunned the world with a revolutionary technology. Under the blinding spotlights, Ethan stared at the brilliant tech mogul standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me. His eyes were bloodshot as he begged, “Vivian, please, come home with me!” I wrapped my arm around my new partner’s, giving Ethan a cold, detached smile. “Mr. Carter, there’s no room for you on my ‘distant relative’ list.” *** I sat in the grand living room of the Carter Estate, watching the maids quickly take down my photos. In their place, they hung portraits of Seraphina Sterling in her youth, smiling like an angel in the Carter gardens. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan’s assistant, Julian: *“Mr. Carter and Ms. Sterling have landed. Expected arrival at the estate in 40 minutes.”* Seraphina was actually back. Forty minutes later, Ethan’s tall figure appeared at the door. I hadn’t seen him in weeks, and his cold, commanding aura seemed even more intimidating than before. Clinging to his arm was Seraphina, the woman who had vanished five years ago, now looking more radiant than ever. “Vivian, thank you for holding down the fort.” Ethan’s tone was polite, yet completely detached. He didn’t even let his gaze linger on me before turning back to look at Seraphina with pure tenderness. I stood up, keeping a polite, poised smile on my face—the smile expected of the “almost-Mrs. Carter.” “Ethan, Seraphina. Welcome home.” Seraphina gave a soft, sweet smile. Her eyes swept over the living room before landing on me. “So, this is Vivian? You’ve grown so beautiful. But…” She paused, her tone laced with a perfect touch of pity. “I heard you’ve been living with the Carters for the past five years? Ethan has been so busy. It’s a good thing his mother had you to keep her company.” With a single sentence, she effortlessly reduced my five years of devotion to that of a live-in nanny. Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t correct her. He only said flatly, “My mother has always been fond of Vivian.” The welcome dinner, which was practically a public declaration of Seraphina’s reclamation of her throne, proceeded in a suffocating atmosphere. New York’s elite shamelessly crowded around Ethan and Seraphina. The story of their childhood romance was retold over and over, as if my five years of existence were nothing but an irrelevant typo in Ethan’s life story. I watched my fiancé cut Seraphina’s steak, his eyes filled with a gentle devotion I had never once received. For five years, I had stood by his side through Carter Enterprises’ worst financial crises. I had handled his family’s messy affairs, comforted his difficult mother, and kept a warm meal waiting for him late into the night… As it turned out, none of it could compare to a single frown from his first love. Once the guests finally left. Without looking at me, Ethan walked straight toward his study. “Vivian, in here.” His voice left no room for argument. Inside the study. Ethan stood with his back to me, staring out of the massive floor-to-ceiling window. After a long silence, he turned and pushed a document across the desk toward me. “Sign it.” My eyes fell on the title: *Southside Villa Deed Transfer and Identity Settlement Agreement.* “Ethan… what is this supposed to mean?” I still held onto a tiny, foolish shred of hope. He finally looked at me. “Seraphina is back.” His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather. “Years ago, she had to leave everything behind and go abroad because of me. Her health was ruined because of the stress. She has suffered enough.” “And?” My nails dug deep into my palms. “The Carters and the Sterlings have generations of history. Seraphina is the sole heiress to the Sterling Group. Her status and everything she went through mean I have to marry her. I owe her the grandest wedding and her rightful place by my side.” “Vivian, you’ve done well these past five years, and I’m grateful. But you know your background… You don’t have the pedigree to be the matriarch of the Carter family.” Every word was a sharp blade, slicing through the dignity and love I had carefully guarded for five years. So, all my sacrifices were completely worthless in the face of my “background.” “This agreement is your compensation.” He tapped the document. “The Southside Villa will be transferred to your name. Additionally, the agreement states that you are a distant relative the Carter family took in years ago after a family tragedy. It will prevent any unnecessary gossip.” He paused, adding, “It’s the best arrangement for everyone.” “Haha…” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. With a single sentence, he wanted to erase our five-year engagement. To turn me from his fiancée into some charity case he kept hidden away to “save face”? “Ethan Carter,” I took a deep breath, looking him dead in the eye. “I am not a bird you can lock in a golden cage, and I sure as hell don’t need to play the role of a pity-case relative to survive!” I grabbed the agreement and ripped it in half, then tore it again and again until the shredded paper scattered like snow on the floor. “We are over. The engagement is off.” — #### Chapter 2 Ethan’s face cracked, showing actual shock for the first time. He took a few predatory steps forward, his towering frame casting a suffocating shadow over me. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he might crush my bones. “Vivian! Don’t be ungrateful!” he growled, his eyes flashing like daggers. “Do you honestly think you can survive in New York without the Carter name? You’re an orphan with absolutely no backing. Without the title of my fiancée, you are nothing! How are you going to support yourself? With those pathetic design drafts of yours?!” His eyes flared with cold anger. “You’re just throwing a tantrum! Sign the agreement, go to the Southside Villa, and the Carters will make sure you’re taken care of! Once you calm down, you’ll realize I’m doing this for your own good!” For my own good? Stripping me of my title and locking me away as a “distant relative” was for my own good? I looked at the face I had loved so desperately, now finding it utterly repulsive. “Ethan,” I wrenched my wrist from his grip and stood tall. “We are done. I don’t want your money, your status, or your toxic family.” “As for how I’ll survive?” “You’ll find out soon enough. And I promise you, I will never regret this!” Without giving him another second of my time, I turned on my heel and walked out. Right outside the study door, Seraphina was leaning against the wall. We locked eyes for a split second before I brushed right past her. I didn’t miss the smug, victorious smirk on her face, but it didn’t matter to me anymore. Returning to the guest suite that had been my temporary room, I realized this place had never truly been a home. When I started packing, I realized how little I actually owned. Over the last five years, Ethan had gifted me expensive jewelry and designer clothes, but I had rarely worn them. They always felt like heavy armor that didn’t belong to me. Right now, they just felt like a silent joke. I opened the closet, ignoring the luxury brands, and grabbed a worn suitcase from the very back. Inside, I packed a few sentimental clothes from my college days, my digital drawing tablet, and most importantly, my thick, weathered design sketchbooks. I also packed a small velvet box. Inside lay a simple platinum band. It was the ring Ethan had given me when Carter Enterprises was facing its worst financial crisis, using a soda tab to propose in his chaotic office. He had said, *”Vivian, I’m sorry this is all I can give you now. Once things get better, I promise to give you the biggest diamond and the most lavish wedding.”* Well, the diamond never came. Only a cold “distant relative” agreement. In less than twenty minutes, every trace of Vivian Miller was packed into that single suitcase. No lingering, no hesitation. The head butler, Thomas, stood by the front door, looking deeply troubled. “Miss Miller… are you really… surely Mr. Carter didn’t mean…” He obviously thought Ethan had just spoken in anger. “Thank you for looking after me all these years, Thomas,” I said with a gentle nod. “I’m leaving. Take care.” Behind me lay five years of wasted devotion. Ahead of me was an uncertain path, but it was mine alone. Ethan stood by the study window, a half-burnt cigarette between his fingers, his dark eyes watching the slender figure wheeling a small suitcase down the long driveway. The moonlight cast a cold, sharp silhouette around her, making her look incredibly resolute. Annoyed, he crushed the cigarette into the crystal ashtray. He pulled out his phone and called Julian. “Is she gone?” “Yes, Mr. Carter. Miss Miller only took her personal clothes and design sketchbooks. She didn’t touch any of the valuables,” Julian reported meticulously. “Hmph.” Ethan let out a cold, cynical laugh, confirming his own arrogant theory. “She has no idea how cruel the real world is. Keep an eye on her. Let her struggle a bit and face some rejection. She’ll quickly realize who she actually needs to rely on.” He was absolutely certain that Vivian’s minor talent in design would never survive New York’s cutthroat market without his backing. Without him, she wouldn’t last a week. “Also,” he paused, his voice returning to its cold, corporate tone. “Announce my engagement to Seraphina to the press. Make it fast, and make it grand. And contact a few major outlets. Leak a story about how ‘the generous Carter family is providing a luxurious life and financial security to a distant relative they took in years ago.’” He was going to completely erase Vivian’s name from his future, sealing her fate as a mere footnote. “Understood, Mr. Carter.” — #### Chapter 3 A few days later, New York’s high society was rocked by a massive headline: *Ethan Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, to marry Seraphina Sterling next month in a lavish ceremony!* The media showered the couple with endless praise. It was as if Vivian Miller, the low-key fiancé who had stood by his side for five years, had never existed. Whenever any curious whispers popped up, they were instantly drowned out by press releases praising the “charitable Carter family for supporting their distant relative.” Meanwhile, in a quiet, slightly run-down but spotless studio apartment in Brooklyn. The space was small and simple, but golden sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the desk. A thick sketchbook lay open, surrounded by fresh concept drafts. I sat at the desk, my stylus flying across the digital tablet, my eyes completely locked in. This chaotic, ordinary neighborhood gave me a sense of peace and reality I hadn’t felt in years. Leaving Ethan wasn’t an impulsive tantrum. Even while playing the role of his perfect fiancé, I had never given up on my dream of becoming a designer. It was just that Ethan hated me being in the public eye, and he especially despised me taking on “low-class” commercial projects. My work had been locked away in drawers, or published anonymously in small indie forums. What Ethan didn’t know was that I had stayed in touch with Ignite Studio, an independent design house. The founder, Leo Harrison, was a senior from my college days—a man who actually understood art and fought for independent creators. My phone buzzed. Leo’s name popped up on FaceTime. “Vivian, are you settled in?” Leo’s warm, direct voice came through, filled with concern. “I saw the news. What a piece of work! A distant relative? How did he even come up with that lie? Are you okay?” “I’m fine, Leo. Better than fine,” I laughed, feeling a genuine wave of relief. “Honestly, I’ve never felt lighter.” “Good!” Leo let out a breath. “Your spot at Ignite Studio has always been waiting for you. And honestly, the timing is perfect!” His voice filled with excitement. “The ‘Aura of Tomorrow’ International Design Awards just opened submissions! The deadline is in one month. This is a blind-review platform. No family names, no status—only pure talent! Vivian, I know you have the portfolio. It’s time to let the world see what you can do!” My heart skipped a beat. The “Aura of Tomorrow” was one of the most prestigious design competitions in the world, a place where unknown designers could become stars overnight. All the concepts in my sketchbooks—the ones Ethan had called “amateur”—finally had a chance to breathe! “I’m in!” I said without a single second of hesitation, my eyes burning with determination. “Send me the guidelines, Leo. I’m submitting under my real name—Vivian Miller!” “Hell yes!” Leo cheered, slamming his hand on his desk over the call. “I’ll email it to you right now! Let me know whatever you need. Bring out your absolute best, your most ‘Vivian’ work! Let’s show those arrogant snobs what they threw away!” Hanging up, I took a deep breath, my eyes landing on a chaotic but incredibly powerful concept sketch on the latest page of my sketchbook. The lines were sharp, the structure futuristic, yet it carried the powerful theme of rising from the ashes. I had drawn it unconsciously in a state of absolute heartbreak the night Ethan handed me that insulting agreement. At the time, it felt like a chaotic mess, but looking at it now, it looked like a wildfire waiting to erupt. “I’ll call it… *The Phoenix*,” I whispered, tracing the lines with my finger. It was no longer just a useless doodle. It was my manifesto. My new beginning. Over the next few weeks, I worked like a woman possessed, refining every detail of the design. Meanwhile, details of Ethan and Seraphina’s wedding prep dominated the media. Stories about their custom-designed, multi-million-dollar diamond rings flooded the internet. At Carter Enterprises, Seraphina began acting like the future boss, inserting herself into corporate projects. One afternoon, Ethan was sitting in his penthouse office, looking over a design proposal from one of his subsidiary firms for the upcoming “NextGen Smart Living” tech competition. He flipped through the pages carelessly until his eyes caught a name on the contestant list.

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