Category: English

I was Harper’s oldest habit. When I left for my doctoral program in London, she found a stand-in—a man who looked enough like me to fool a casual observer, but with none of the history. Three years later, I came back. Harper kept her boy-toy on the side, tucked away in a downtown loft, while she walked down the aisle with me. But secrets in New York high society are like oil spills; they eventually blacken everything they touch. I found out. Of course I found out. I cried. I screamed. I begged, using the title of husband like a shield, hoping it would protect me from the truth. Harper just looked at me with that aristocratic disappointment she’d perfected over the years. “Enough, Mason. Can you stop being so dramatic? Caleb isn’t like you. He doesn’t care about these petty jealousies.” She smoothed the lapel of my jacket. “What I promised you hasn’t changed. I am still your wife. Forever.” But my pride—the quiet, stubborn kind that runs in my family’s blood—couldn’t stomach a marriage with a third person in the bed. I found the body double privately. I played the role of the lawful husband. I told him to get out of our lives. That night, Harper had her security team drag me to a private clinic off the books. The anesthesia was a thin veil; it didn’t block the pain, only my ability to scream. I felt the scalpel trace a line of fire across my skin. I felt the hollow ache as my kidney was torn from me, harvested to save the sickly dog Caleb had just adopted. It was absurd. It was grotesque. Harper looked down at me, her eyes arctic. “Mason, I told you. Don’t touch Caleb.” I died on that table, bleeding out into the sterile white sheets. When I opened my eyes, the smell of antiseptic was gone, replaced by the scent of expensive hairspray and lilies. I was back. It was the morning of our wedding. This time, I didn’t rush her to get to the church. I didn’t check my watch with anxious excitement. instead, I picked up my phone and dialed my mentor back in London. “Professor Banks,” I said, my voice steady. “That research position you offered? I’ll take it.” “I’ll be there in seven days.” … 1 “Mason, listen to me—I’ve been in a minor accident. Go to the chapel, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Harper’s voice was frantic on the other end of the line. Before I could speak, the line went dead. In my past life—the one where I died—I had panicked. I had called every hospital, every mutual friend, terrorclawing at my throat. This time, I simply pressed the side button and watched the screen go black. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. The tuxedo was midnight blue, the fit impeccable. I looked like the perfect groom. I smiled, a dry, humorless quirk of the lips. It was my first time wearing the horns of a betrayed man, knowingly. Seven days. That was enough time to untangle our finances, sign the papers, and vanish from Harper’s life like smoke. On the drive to what was supposed to be the venue, I saw them. Harper’s Porsche had clipped a guardrail. But she wasn’t alone. A man in a tailored suit was leaning on her, his hands gripping her shoulders. His leg was bleeding sluggishly. So, the crash was real. Compelled by some dark curiosity, I pulled over, keeping the engine running. Through the window, I saw him. Caleb. He was handsome in a fragile, boyish way. He was clutching a stack of photos like they were holy scripture. “Harper, I’m not going to the hospital! I just need to raise money for these kids in the mountains. They need schools, they need food. I’m doing this for them.” He looked at her with wide, pleading eyes. “You wouldn’t see me, so I had to intercept you here.” Harper took the photos, her brow furrowed in that way I used to think meant she was thinking deeply, but now realized meant she was annoyed. “Caleb, I understand. But do you realize today is my wedding day?” “Does that man matter more to you than the lives of these children?” Caleb shouted, throwing his arms wide, wincing theatrically. “If you don’t help me, they could die!” Harper hesitated. Silence stretched for three seconds. Then, she reached out and took his hand. “Okay. Shh. I’m listening. Whatever you want.” Her voice dropped to a soothing coo. “Let me get you to a doctor first.” I watched, feeling a phantom ache in the scar that didn’t exist yet. Harper knew how to be gentle. She just never chose to be gentle with me. I pulled out my phone and typed a message. My suit button popped. Bad omen. The wedding is off. Don’t bother coming to the reception hall. I hit send. A hundred feet away, Harper checked her phone. Her shoulders visibly relaxed. The tension left her body as she helped Caleb into the passenger seat. In my last life, when she finally showed up at the wedding—hours late, disheveled—our friends looked at me with a mix of pity and morbid fascination. I still remember the burn of their gazes. Things I couldn’t understand then were crystal clear now. Everyone knew. Everyone except me knew that Harper had been in love with someone else for years. Why would the heiress of the empire wait three years for a poor academic? Since she wanted him so badly, this time, I would let her have him. 2 The City Clerk’s office was quiet. I handed over my ID and the paperwork to the clerk. She typed for a moment, frowned, and looked up. “Sir, your marital status is listed as ‘Single’.” I stood there, frozen. A cold shockwave rattled my bones. “That’s impossible. Check again. My wife is Harper. We’ve been married… well, we signed the papers.” She shook her head, turning the screen slightly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jiang. There is no record of a marriage license.” I started to laugh. It was a wet, jagged sound. Tears hot and fast, spilling over my lashes. It was all fake. Even the paper binding us had been a lie. I forced myself to walk out, my legs feeling like lead. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor, because I ran into them again near the park entrance. Harper was sitting on a stone bench, her expensive coat draped over the dirt, massaging Caleb’s ankle. Her long, elegant fingers—fingers I had kissed a thousand times—traced the line of his jaw. “Don’t be sad, Caleb,” she murmured. “The wedding with Mason was just a show for the board of directors. The certificate is a forgery. It’s not real.” Caleb beamed, a bright, victorious smile. My heart felt like it was being carved out with a dull knife. I had tried to use that piece of paper to bind her to me. She treated it like confetti. I had used my title as “husband” to drive Caleb away. In return, she had carved me open. “He’s just a bookworm,” Caleb sneered, his voice carrying on the wind. “What does he have on you? Even if you married him, that paper doesn’t mean you belong to him.” “Let’s get you home,” Harper said, standing up and kissing his forehead with a tenderness that made me nauseous. “I’ll handle the donation. Just rest.” She looked happy. Truly, radiantly happy. In my previous life, she never kissed me first. Even when I begged for intimacy, she looked at me like I was a chore she hadn’t gotten around to outsourcing. I wiped my face. The pain in my palm where my nails dug in grounded me. They disappeared into a black SUV. I took out my phone and opened the airline app. I changed my flight. I was leaving in two days, not seven. Why wait? The show was over. I looked at my lock screen—a selfie Harper sent me last New Year’s Eve. I felt a hollow, arctic wind blow through my chest. Back then, I was guarding a phone screen, thinking I was the luckiest man alive. Who was she holding while she typed that message? That evening, I went back to the house—technically her house—to get my things. In the living room, Harper was changing the dressing on Caleb’s leg. When she saw me, she froze for a split second, then smoothed her expression into a mask of casual indifference. “I had a car accident,” she said effortlessly. “Caleb saved me. He was injured in the process, so I’m helping him.” I nodded, playing the fool one last time. “Thank you, Caleb.” “It’s late, and he’s hurt,” Harper said, not looking me in the eye. “Clear out your room. He can sleep there tonight. You can sleep in my room.” My smile felt like it was painted on. The first time we would share a bed, and it was only to make space for her lover. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll take the sofa.” I walked past them to the guest room—my room. It was already mostly empty. Just the suitcase I’d brought back from London. My imprint on this house was as ghostly as my marriage. I packed the last of my toiletries and wheeled the suitcase out. Caleb was leaning against the doorframe, smirking. “So, you’re Mason?” “I’ve heard about you,” he whispered, low enough that Harper couldn’t hear from the living room. “You smell like poverty. Harper doesn’t love you. You get that, right?” I tried to step around him. He grabbed my arm. “You have no shame, do you? Clinging to her like a parasite. You’ve been together seven years—has she ever asked for you? In bed? I’ve known her three years, and let’s just say… we’ve been busy.” Something snapped. I shoved him off me. It wasn’t a hard shove, but Caleb collapsed like a marionette with cut strings. He hit the floor with a thud that sounded rehearsed. “Mason! I was just trying to help you with your bags!” he wailed, his voice pitching up into a victim’s tremolo. “I know you hate me because I’m close to Harper, but you didn’t have to attack me!” I turned around. Harper was standing there, her face a mask of thunder. 3 “Mason, what the hell are you doing? Are you really this petty?” Harper marched over, helping Caleb up. “All these years you were abroad, did I ever question you? And now you’re assaulting the man who saved my life just because I helped bandage him?” “He saved me, Mason. Do you understand that?” I looked down, saying nothing. Seven years ago, I gave her a kidney. I saved her life. She seemed to have rewritten that history entirely. My silence only fueled her rage. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “I’m telling you one last time: Caleb and I are just friends. He is my savior!” I closed my eyes. I was too tired for this. “Okay. I understand.” “You understand? Then get on your knees and apologize to him.” Caleb let out a pained gasp, clutching his side. The memory of the cold table, the scalpel, the night wind on my open skin… I started to tremble. Not from fear, but from a cold, visceral revulsion. I was leaving in forty-eight hours. What did dignity matter to a dead man walking? I clenched my fists and lowered myself to the floor. “I’m sorry,” I said to Caleb’s shoes. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Caleb leaned into Harper, looking like a wounded saint. “It’s okay, Mason. I get it. You’ve been in academia too long; you’re socially stunted. Just… don’t hurt Harper in the future.” Harper shot me a look of pure disgust and helped Caleb into her bedroom. I stood up, my knees cracking, and dragged my suitcase back into the shadows. The next morning, I was about to leave to run an errand when the front door was kicked open. “Mason, you son of a bitch! What did you say to him?” Harper stormed in, wild-eyed. “I went out to get breakfast and he’s gone!” I stood there, blinking. “I didn’t say anything.” She crossed the room and slapped me. The sound cracked through the air like a whip. She shoved her phone in my face. A text message from Caleb: Harper, I’m leaving. I can’t stay and ruin your relationship with Mason. He offered me five million to stay away from you. I can’t take the money, but I can’t stay. I’d rather die. “I warned you, Mason. Don’t touch him.” Her voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “If anything happens to him, I will make you wish you were dead.” “You think I don’t know?” she hissed. “Seven years ago, it wasn’t you who saved me. It was Caleb. I only kept you around out of pity, you pathetic charity case.” “You are just a dog I keep, Mason. Do you understand?” She grabbed my collar. “You have three hours. Find him. Or I will have your parents’ graves dug up and their ashes scattered in the sewer.” A chill went through me. So that was it. She thought Caleb was the donor. My heart hit the floor, shattered, and then… silence. A strange, weightless peace settled over me. I looked into her eyes. “Okay. I’ll find him.” I intended to agree just to get out the door and head straight to the airport. But Harper wasn’t stupid. She had two bodyguards flank me. Three hours later, I was strapped to a surgical table again. A large screen on the wall showed a live feed of a cemetery. Men with shovels were standing over my parents’ headstones. “Harper, please!” I strained against the straps. “I didn’t do anything to Caleb! Check the house cameras! Check my bank accounts! I never offered him money!” “Please, leave my parents out of this! For the sake of seven years ago—when I saved you!” Harper frowned, her expression bored. “People like you aren’t worth my time.” She smiled then, a cold, jagged thing. “Since you insist you gave me a kidney seven years ago… let’s take the other one. Now we’re even.” She waved her hand and walked out. The door clicked shut. I could hear the sweat dripping from my forehead onto the vinyl. The cold blade touched my abdomen. I screamed until the darkness took me. I woke up with a fire in my gut. A long bandage was taped over my side, covering the old scar and the new incision. I heard a bodyguard on the phone in the hallway. “Miss Harper, yes. We opened him up. There was… only one kidney. We couldn’t harvest anything.” Silence on the other end. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit up. The pain was blinding, white-hot. I dragged myself to my suitcase. I pulled out three things. The proof that our marriage license was a forgery. The donor agreement I had signed seven years ago, stained with a drop of old blood. And a conch shell she had given me three years ago at the airport. If you miss me, she had said, put this to your ear. The ocean sounds like my love for you. I left them on the bed. The bodyguards were changing shifts. I knew the rotation. I slipped out the back service entrance, clutching my side. My phone buzzed. Flight Boarding Now. As I limped into the terminal, I blocked Harper on everything. Phone. Email. Socials. Goodbye, Harper.

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The golden boy of our campus dumped me the day we graduated. He didn’t just break my heart; he packed it in a suitcase and flew across the world with his childhood sweetheart, leaving me in the dust of our shared college town. I’ve spent three years convinced he did it just to destroy me. So, imagine my surprise when, after a thousand days of silence, he has the absolute audacity to show up in front of me again. All I can say is—wow. You really have a death wish, don’t you? 1 I was downtown at the weekend night market, trying to move the last of my inventory—high-end, leak-proof period intimates. It wasn’t the “glamorous” career my parents expected after my degree, but it was mine. My best friend, Maddie, nudged me hard, her eyes fixed on a spot across the square. “Check out the guy at ten o’clock,” she whispered. “He’s been staring at you for ten minutes.” I looked up, and the world slowed down. Even under the harsh neon hum of the streetlights, amidst the swarm of people, Chase stood out like a sharp blade. He still had that effortless “bad boy with a trust fund” energy—arrogant, magnetic, and so handsome it felt like he belonged in a different zip code than the guy he was standing next to. Maddie elbowed me again. “He’s definitely looking at you. Do you know him?” I let out a cold, sharp breath. “I thought I did. But usually, when people die, they have the decency to stay buried.” Maddie blinked, confused. “Die? Who died?” I should have checked my horoscope today. Seeing my ex was definitely not in the stars. “He’s coming over!” Maddie hissed. I straightened my shoulders, cracking my knuckles. If he wanted a fight, I was more than ready to give him one. But he didn’t even look at me. He stopped right in front of Maddie and asked, “How much for the stock?” He was treating me like I was invisible. Fine. Two can play at that game. I reached out, clamped my hand over Maddie’s mouth before she could speak, and flashed him a smile that was 100% fake. “Three times the price on the sign,” I said. Chase finally turned to me. His brows arched—those perfectly groomed, infuriating brows. “The sign says twenty.” “The sign is for customers I actually like,” I replied flatly. “Buy it or get lost.” But Maddie, a literal traitor for a handsome face, shook me off and blurted out the actual price. She wasn’t about to let me scare off a guy who looked like he’d walked off a Ralph Lauren billboard. Chase gave me a look—something between a smirk and a challenge—and then looked back at Maddie with a devastatingly soft expression. “I’ll take the whole box.” I froze. Why would a man like him buy a bulk box of period underwear? Was it for her? His little “girl next door”? A bitter, metallic taste filled my mouth. He was really doing this right in front of me. I forced myself to pack the box while listening to them exchange contact info. My blood was boiling. You’re really going to hit on my best friend right here? I slammed the box into his chest, cutting off their conversation. “Cash or Venmo, Romeo?” Chase took the box with practiced ease, passing it to his friend. “Three years, and you’re still as prickly as ever.” “Funny,” I snapped back. “I’m sure your childhood sweetheart is much more ‘docile.’” The light in his eyes vanished. His lips thinned into a hard line, and his voice dropped an octave, heavy with warning. “Take it out on me if you want. Leave her out of it.” Whatever fire I had in me died instantly, replaced by a cold, hollow ache. He was still protecting her. He hadn’t changed, and neither had his priorities. If I hadn’t spent three years toughening my skin, I would have burst into tears right there. “If you don’t want to hear me talk about her,” I said, my voice trembling with a forced calm, “then don’t bring your pathetic face back into my life.” His expression darkened as he walked away. I stared at his retreating back for a long time before finally turning to Maddie. “That was my ex,” I said. “What?! The ‘Golden Boy’ who ditched you for the girl next door and fled to Europe? He has the nerve to show his face here?” “Apparently. And apparently, you really like his face.” Maddie winced. “Hey, don’t be mad. I didn’t know! A hot guy is a hot guy, I was just doing my job.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. I couldn’t blame her. I was the one who fell for that face first. 2 I was the one who chased him. In college, Chase was the star of the finance department, the guy every girl wanted. I met him when he was emceeing a campus gala. I was a last-minute fill-in, playing drums for an indie rock band. I saw him through the hazy stage lights—tall, lean, and radiating a restless sort of power. He looked like a wild horse that refused to be broken. I knew right then he was exactly my type. I didn’t play games. I went straight for the throat. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I’d intercepted him backstage, still in my punk gear, looking like trouble. He looked surprised, then his lips curled into a playful grin. “What if I said no?” “Then you have one now.” People nearby gasped. I didn’t care. To me, if you liked something, you took it. Life was too short for anything else. But Chase shook his head, his tone teasing. “Piper, right? I’m not interested.” Honestly, being rejected in front of a crowd stung. But I only let it sink in for a second. “The announcer didn’t say my name on stage. How do you know who I am?” He froze. I leaned in, grinning. “Playing hard to get? I can work with that. Just don’t make me wait too long. I’m not known for my patience.” I waved goodbye and walked away, already knowing I had him. We were together soon after. It was effortless. We matched each other’s energy, our tempers, our interests. Every day felt like a new adventure, and I was already mapping out a lifetime with him. Then, graduation approached. And he told me he was going abroad for a Master’s. With her. To this day, I can’t find the right words for that feeling. Betrayal, abandonment, a profound sense of “why wasn’t I enough?” All of it tangled together until I nearly broke. I lost twenty pounds in three months. I couldn’t sleep without medication. So, seeing him three years later, looking polished and successful and fine, all I could think was: Chase, you really have some nerve. 3 My mood was in the gutter by the time I got home. I tried to bolt for my room, but my dad’s voice stopped me mid-stride. The atmosphere in the living room was… off. No TV. No phones. My parents were sitting on the sofa like a pair of judges at a tribunal. I had a bad feeling about this. “Where have you been?” my dad asked, his voice low. “You already know, don’t you?” I sighed, leaning against the wall. He slammed his hand on his knee, his face turning a deep shade of red. “What is wrong with your attitude? If the neighbors hadn’t told us, we wouldn’t have known! Selling… those things at a street stall? You’re a grown woman with a degree, out there shouting in the streets for change? Have you no shame?” “Shame?” I crossed my arms. “Dad, what century is this? Why should I be ashamed? The women who buy them aren’t ashamed, so why should the person selling them be?” “Don’t you talk back to me!” He stood up, pointing a finger. “You quit a respectable corporate job for this? Piper, have you lost your mind?” “If I have, I probably got it from you,” I snapped. “You—!” My mom stepped in, trying to play peacemaker. “Alright, that’s enough. Both of you. My head is killing me. Piper, go to your room. Your father is just frustrated.” I looked at my dad, his chest heaving with anger, and for a second, I felt a pang of guilt. I wanted to apologize, to tell him I was just trying to find myself, but the words felt like they were glued to the back of my throat. I turned and walked away. As I shut my door, I heard his voice, heavy with disappointment. “She wasn’t like this. What happened to her?” My phone buzzed. It was a text from Maddie. Hey… The ex-from-hell just messaged me. He wants to know if we’re going back to the square tomorrow night. What do I say? I stared at the screen for a long time. Tell him we’ll be there, I typed back. And if he shows up, tell him the price just went up ten times. 4 As a member of the “unemployed and lost” club, sleeping until noon was my only hobby. Usually, my parents left me alone, but today, the banging on my door started at dawn. “I get it! I’m sorry! I won’t sell the underwear anymore, okay?” I yelled into my pillow. I was lying, of course, but I needed the noise to stop. The banging continued. I lost it. I hauled myself out of bed and ripped the door open, eyes squeezed shut. “I said I’m sorry! If I go back to the square, I hope I gain fifty pounds and break out in hives! Are you happy now?” Silence. I opened one eye. My dad was standing there, looking livid. Typical. But then I realized there was someone else behind him. A stranger. A tall, handsome man who was currently trying—and failing—to hide a smirk. “Is this how you act in the morning? Ridiculous,” my dad grumbled. He shoved me aside and turned to the stranger with a smile I hadn’t seen in months. “Harrison, this is your room. Stay as long as you need.” Harrison was tall—well over six feet—and his presence seemed to make my room feel suddenly tiny. He was gorgeous in a very different way than Chase. He had sharp, elegant features, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and looked like the kind of man who never had a hair out of place. “Thank you, sir,” Harrison said, his voice a smooth, rich baritone. “Moving back to the States was a bit sudden, and I haven’t had time to find a place. I’ll move out as soon as my apartment is ready.” “Don’t be silly. Consider this home. Your father and I go way back, and since he’s still overseas, I’m happy to look after you.” I was reeling. “Wait. Dad. You’re giving him my room? Where am I supposed to sleep?” My dad gave me a cold look. “You can sleep in the study.” “Are you kidding me?!” “You have a problem? Fine. Move out. You do nothing but stress me out anyway.” The old man knew exactly where to hit. I glared at the intruder—Harrison—who just looked back at me with a mask of polite innocence. It made me want to scream. I grabbed my favorite throw pillow and stormed off to the study. This was going to be a nightmare. 5 I didn’t wake up again until evening. I stumbled out of the study, ready to complain about being hungry, when I heard laughter from the dining room. I froze at the doorway. “Harrison, have some more of this duck. It’s my specialty,” my mom was saying, her voice brimming with affection. “He’s so polite, isn’t he? If only I had a son like you, I’d be the happiest woman alive,” she continued. “We’re not that lucky,” my dad added. “Harrison is a brilliant surgical resident. He’s here to study with the best at the university hospital. Truly a young man with a future.” I felt a lump in my throat. How long had it been since this house felt this warm? Ever since I’d quit my job, the air here had been thick with sighs and unspoken disappointments. Even my mom, who used to spoil me, seemed tired of me lately. “Where’s Piper?” my mom asked. “I should wake her for dinner.” “Leave her,” my dad snapped. “Sleeping her life away while everyone else works. She’ll wake up when she’s hungry. You’ve spoiled her too much.” “Why is this my fault again?” I swallowed the bitterness and stepped into the room. “What’s for dinner?” The room went quiet. I ignored the tension, grabbed a bowl, and started eating. I could feel Harrison’s eyes on me—observing, analyzing. What are you looking at? I thought. Do you think I’m beneath you because your parents are proud of you and mine aren’t? I reached out and snatched a piece of duck right from under his chopsticks. I gave him a defiant look. Don’t think just because my dad likes you, I’m scared of you. He narrowed his eyes slightly but moved on to another dish. I spent the rest of dinner “accidentally” taking every piece of food he aimed for. It was childish, and I knew it, but it was the only power I had. “Piper!” my dad barked. “Eat properly.” The duck lost its flavor instantly. I poked at my rice until my dad spoke again. “After dinner, take Harrison downtown. He just got back to the country and needs to pick up some essentials.” “I have plans,” I said. “What plans? Selling more rags?” I bit my tongue. “Fine. Hey, new guy. You don’t actually want me to go, right? You can find a Target on your own.” I gave Harrison a look that clearly said Say no. He looked at me, then at my dad, and smiled politely. “Actually, I’d appreciate the help. Thank you, Piper.” I stared at him. This guy is doing this on purpose. 6 I dropped Harrison off at the mall entrance. “Go buy whatever you need. I’ll be over there.” I pointed to my usual spot in the square and immediately started setting up my stall. Harrison looked at the boxes of “luxe leak-proof intimates” and his eyebrow twitched. “This is what you do?” “You got a problem with it?” He just looked at me with a deadpan expression and walked into the mall without a word. Half an hour later, Maddie still hadn’t shown up. I was about to call her when I saw her walking toward me—with Chase. They were laughing. I felt like I’d been slapped. “You guys are together?” Maddie didn’t even notice my tone. She was glowing. “Piper! Chase says it’s his birthday today. He wants us to come to his party!” I looked from her to Chase. Since when were they on a first-name basis? “I don’t think we’re the kind of people who go to each other’s birthday parties anymore,” I said to Chase, my voice dripping with ice. I saw a flash of hurt in his eyes, and it gave me a sick sense of satisfaction. Maddie grabbed my arm. “Come on, Piper. It’s his birthday. Don’t be so mean.” Chase this, Chase that. She sounded like his girlfriend. I turned to her, my eyes blazing. “Maddie, are you serious right now?” She knew everything. She knew the nights I spent crying on her floor. She knew the pills I had to take just to stop the shaking. And now she was asking me to go celebrate him? She flinched. “If you really don’t want to go, I won’t go either,” she stammered. The implication was clear: I’m only saying no because you’re making me. I had let so many things slide with Maddie. I let her take credit for my ideas at our old job. I let her be the “pretty one.” I let her borrow money she never paid back. But Chase? Chase was the one thing she couldn’t have. He was my scar. “Maddie, do you think I’m an idiot?” “I didn’t… Piper, don’t misunderstand…” She looked at Chase for help. And of course, he stepped in like a knight in shining armor. “Don’t blame her. It was my idea.” I laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. “Blame her? Who even are you, Chase? You think you matter enough for me to care who you talk to?” His jaw tightened. He looked like he was about to snap, but then his expression softened. “Piper…” “Looks like tonight isn’t a good night for business.” Harrison appeared out of nowhere. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, but his face was set in a hard mask as he stepped up beside me. Chase stared at Harrison, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and rage. “What the hell are you doing here?” They knew each other? Harrison didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Chase. He just looked down at me. “Ready to go home?” There was a strange urgency in his voice. I nodded, almost hypnotized. He immediately started packing up my things. Chase grabbed my wrist. “What is your relationship with him?” I yanked my hand back. “None of your business.” “Are you living with him?!” Chase sounded horrified. Living with him? Technically, yes. A petty part of me wanted to twist the knife. “Yes. We are.” Chase looked like he’d been punched in the gut. I turned to Harrison and gave him the first real smile I’d ever offered him. “Let’s go, babe. Let’s go home.”

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After dinner, my boyfriend and I bought lottery tickets together. He said cash was tight and asked me to cover it. Of the two tickets, one hit the $5 million jackpot. The other was a dud. His face instantly changed. “The $5 million one is mine.” Technically, he wasn’t wrong—the winning numbers were given to him by a psychic. They were his “lucky numbers.” 1 Mark and I had just walked out of the restaurant. I offered to split the bill, but he let out a heavy sigh and said, “No need, Joy. I’m just mostly stressed about the wedding fund…” He started rambling, “You know I have three brothers. My older brother isn’t married yet, and my little brother is still in high school. My parents can’t possibly give all their savings to me. “My mom said your family’s expectations for a wedding contribution are ridiculously inflated! Who asks for that much? She said the neighbor’s daughter only asked her fiancé’s family for ten grand to help with a down payment.” I listened in silence. Because Mark’s family was significantly wealthier than mine. My parents were gifting us a brand-new car for the wedding—a gift that literally took half their life savings to buy. Meanwhile, ten grand was probably just a fraction of his family’s monthly income. 2 Because of our financial disparity, I never dared to buy expensive things while dating Mark, nor did I ever accept any pricey holiday gifts from him. When we were in college, to ease his financial burden, I proactively suggested we go 50/50 on everything. So, without me realizing it, even after he started working and making a great salary, he still fully expected me to split every single penny. The first time we got a room together, we went to a high-end luxury hotel. I slept incredibly well that night, but when I woke up, I found him staring at me, looking like he wanted to say something but holding back. Finally, as we were checking out, he muttered, “This hotel was pretty expensive.” I instantly understood what he meant, but I deliberately stayed quiet. On the Uber ride home, I Venmo’d him my half of the room cost. But from that day on, we never stayed in a hotel that cost more than a hundred bucks a night. 3 Buying lottery tickets after dinner was a little tradition of ours. Mark said he didn’t have any spare cash on him and asked me to front the money. I bought two tickets, holding the receipt as I walked out of the convenience store with him. Sitting in the backseat of our Uber, the two of us remained completely silent. My apartment was on the way to Mark’s place. Because of that, he used to walk me home every single night during our three years of high school. Because of our eight-year history, I tolerated all his flaws. In my eyes, we started dating as students, and it always felt like we just had to listen to whatever our parents said. The driver dropped me off first. Before I even closed the car door, Mark suddenly poked his head out: “You need to think about this carefully and talk some sense into your parents. We’ve been together for eight years… Besides, you’re not getting any younger, and you’re not a virgin anymore. Who else would want you besides me?” Before he could say anything else, the driver pulled away. Normally, Mark never brought up the post-dinner lottery tickets again. If we won, we’d split it; if we lost, I just treated it as me buying two tickets and having bad luck. On the day of the drawing, I checked the numbers over and over again until I was absolutely certain I wasn’t hallucinating. My hands shook violently as I gripped the ticket. The second I confirmed the win, I flipped my phone into airplane mode. Five million dollars. Even after taxes, I’d still clear around three million. To be safe, I planned to go straight to the lottery headquarters to claim it. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside my door, followed by a violent pounding. I heard Mark screaming at the top of his lungs: “Joy! Open the door! Open it! I know you’re in there! Open this damn door right now!!!” “Why aren’t you answering my calls?! Are you trying to keep it all for yourself?!” “Open the door first, let’s talk face-to-face!” 4 Only an idiot would talk to him face-to-face! If he actually tried to physically snatch it from me, how could I fight him off? I braced myself against the door, dragged over the sofa, chairs, and anything heavy I could find to barricade it, and then shouted back: “I don’t know what you’re talking about! If you don’t stop screaming outside my apartment, I’m calling 911!” He sounded absolutely furious: “You don’t know?! You don’t know why you deadbolted the door?! Why you’re ignoring my calls, refusing to leave the house, and cutting off contact?! That is FIVE MILLION DOLLARS! Are you that desperate for money?! Get your ass out here right now!” I lost it. While dialing 911, I screamed back at him: “Mark! You’re the one desperate for money! You know damn well that’s five million dollars! Look at yourself, do you even act like a man?! You want to go 50/50 on everything, you wouldn’t even pay for condoms or a cheap hotel room without me pitching in! If we win, we split it, if we lose, I pay for it! Your skin is thicker than the calluses on my feet!” “…Yes, officer, you can hear him right? He’s blocking my door right now. Yes, 231 Oakwood Drive, Apartment 4B…” 5 The police arrived promptly. The two of us ended up sitting in an interview room at the precinct, glaring daggers at each other. A younger officer coughed and said, “Look, why don’t you two just talk this out? You’re a couple, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding…” “What misunderstanding? Officer, I haven’t done anything. He showed up at my apartment and started trying to bash my door in. That’s a threat to my physical safety, isn’t it? I want to press charges for harassment.” Mark looked at me and sneered, “You know you’re in the wrong, that’s why you won’t bring it up, huh?” “Fine, I’ll say it. You put your phone on airplane mode just to hide from me, didn’t you?” “And that pile of furniture barricading your door? You have a guilty conscience, that’s why you didn’t dare open the door and talk to me!” “I only have one demand right now—give me the ticket.” He leaned in close, his tone menacing. I laughed. “I bought the ticket. Why on earth would I give it to you?” I turned to the police officers. “Officers, this counts as attempted robbery, right? You can arrest him right now.” He panicked. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting?! Officers, it’s obvious she’s trying to embezzle the money! She stole my lottery ticket! That counts as grand theft, right? Arrest her!” “Alright, alright, knock it off, both of you.” An older, more seasoned cop tapped the table, coughing as he spoke. “I’m warning you, this is a police station. Everything you say goes on the record, so don’t try to play games. And seriously, is it worth ruining your relationship over a lottery ticket? A couple thousand bucks isn’t even enough to cover wedding expenses!” We shouted in unison: “It’s five million dollars!” The two cops fell dead silent, staring at each other in shock. Finally, the older cop put on a serious face. “Well…” He turned to Mark. “Young man, you speak first.” 6 Mark launched into a long, rehearsed speech: “Officer, I’m the one who always plays those specific numbers. If you don’t believe me, look—I have the payment record.” He picked up his phone, showing the officers his transaction history line by line, casting smug, sideways glances at me the whole time. The two cops nodded along, occasionally muttering “Ah” and “Mhm,” validating his story. It was obvious that this older cop’s internal scales were tipping in favor of his fellow man. My stomach dropped a little. It was true. The reason I put my phone on airplane mode the second I realized I won was precisely because the winning numbers were the exact sequence Mark always played. Whenever we bought tickets after dinner, I would choose random numbers, while Mark religiously played his predetermined set. I thought it was weird and asked him about it once. He said his mom had paid an expensive astrologer on the boardwalk to calculate those numbers for him. The guy promised that playing them would guarantee him a lifetime of wealth and luxury. So he stubbornly bought that exact sequence for a decade, rain or shine. Only occasionally, after dinner, would he ask me to buy the ticket for him. Later, I actually went to find that “master astrologer” he talked about. Honestly, I don’t believe in psychics or curses. The old guy with the wispy white beard looked at Mark, then at me. Probably figuring we were naive kids, he demanded $888 right off the bat. I turned around to leave. Mark tried to stop me: “This old guy is super accurate! You’ll see once he reads you!” The old man shouted after me, “You wicked girl! Let me tell you, you’re going to suffer a tragic accident when you turn 25! You have a cursed aura, you’re a jinx! If you want to break this curse, you must… sigh!” Thinking back on it now, was this the “tragic accident” that old fraud was talking about? Just because I supposedly stole his fortune? Hilarious! Even if a piece of garbage like Mark had good fortune, it would be entirely wasted on him! Life was so unfair. My parents had worked themselves to the bone their entire lives just to barely pay off their mortgage, while his parents ran shady businesses and made a fortune, yet they refused to spend a single dime on their future daughter-in-law! While I was silently fuming, the older cop hesitated and said, “Son, you make a fair point. You did play those numbers. But that was in the past. How can you prove she bought this specific ticket on your behalf?” I nodded vigorously. But Mark, completely prepared, shot me a dirty look and pointed at my phone: “Turn off airplane mode and open Venmo.” … Right there on my screen was a transfer from him, sent just past 9 PM. That was before the numbers were drawn. Meaning, this was unquestionably the “lottery money” he had sent me. I instantly tensed up. That cheapskate Mark purposely used Venmo so it would auto-deposit—I didn’t even have the chance to decline it! The older cop looked at me with pity and shook his head. “Well, my hands are tied, miss. He transferred the money to you, so legally, it counts as his ticket. Besides, he’s been playing those numbers for years. If you suddenly snatch his win, you’re stealing his karma. That’s bad for your own luck!” I cursed more in my head today than I had in the past year combined. I rolled my eyes. Just as I was about to speak, Mark chimed in again: “Joy, I know you’re just angry… but whether the five million goes to me or you, isn’t it the same thing? This is the startup fund for our new family. With this, our life together will be so much easier.” Mark’s expression looked incredibly sincere. I’d seen this act before. Every time we were about to have a massive fight, he would lecture me first, then lower his voice and talk about “us.” He always managed to confuse me and smooth things over, but this time, I wasn’t buying a single word of it. No wonder they say men turn bad when they get rich—women turn bad when they get rich, too. Right now, even if I told him to bark like a dog, I bet he wouldn’t dare make a peep in protest. But Mark’s shamelessness still managed to exceed my expectations. He continued, “How about this? You treat this lottery ticket as your dowry, and I won’t ask for the car…” I froze, feeling like a bucket of ice water had just been thrown in my face. My mind instantly cleared. “What do you mean, you ‘won’t ask for the car’? Did you actually think that car was for you?! That was a gift from my parents to me!” “Well, what else would it be?” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’m paying for the wedding, so the car should go to me, right? You really expect to just pocket five million dollars and leave me with nothing? Joy, you weren’t this much of a gold digger in college.” “Right. Fine. I’m a gold digger. You’re so noble. You’re the most noble person on earth.” I nodded, picking up my purse and preparing to walk out. “I don’t want a wedding anymore. Are you happy?” Mark’s face instantly lit up with joy, but he still muttered, “How can we do that? We have to spend at least a few thousand… Don’t worry, I’ll let my mom handle the whole wedding. I promise it’ll be beautiful, you won’t lose face. As for the car…” He seemed to grit his teeth, enduring physical pain to continue: “Buying a twenty or thirty thousand dollar car is enough for us. We’ll live a nice, peaceful life together… I knew you were the right girl for me, Joy.” I laughed. “You’re overthinking it. I don’t want a wedding, and we’re not getting married. Keep your few thousand bucks and go marry your mom.” 7 I ignored the two cops and dropped one final sentence: “The security cameras show me paying at the counter. The cashier took my money. I don’t care what time you sent that Venmo. If you’re cheap, don’t pretend to be a big shot, and then have the nerve to call me a gold digger. Have you no shame?” I pointed right at his nose and cursed him out, using every dirty word I had learned in my entire life. The two cops were dumbfounded. By the time they finally pulled me back, I had completely eviscerated Mark. He was so furious he looked like he wanted to lunge forward and hit me. I waved dismissively at the officers. “Officers, I’m really not being greedy. Just consider this his breakup fee to me. After all, a guy who makes his girlfriend front the money for a lottery ticket couldn’t hold onto a fortune even if it landed in his lap. Wouldn’t you agree?” I slammed the door and left, heading straight to the state lottery headquarters. After going through all the procedures, I sat quietly, waiting for the staff’s phone call. It wasn’t until over three million dollars safely hit my bank account that I finally felt a sense of peace. I counted the zeros over and over again. My heart felt warm, and my entire mood lifted. No wonder rich people are so happy. I was already thinking way less about Mark’s punchable face. Just as I was relaxing, my phone rang. It was my mom. Her voice was frantic and choked with tears: “Joy! Mark is saying you stole his money! He’s saying you’re shameless, that you cheated on him with another man! He’s blocking our front door and screaming right now! What’s going on?!” I hung up the phone and rushed straight to my parents’ house. When I arrived, my mom was covering her face, crying. A massive crowd had gathered outside our door. Leading the pack was Mark, and his parents were right there with him. A bunch of nosy neighbors were gossiping: “Look, there’s the thief.” “Stealing at her age, she’s gonna get beaten to death when she’s older!” “They were about to get married, and now his family is here cursing her out. Let’s see who’d ever marry her now!” However, all those whispers vanished the second they saw the ten burly, broad-shouldered security guards in black suits standing right behind me. I smiled and walked up to Mark and his parents. “If you have something to say, let’s talk.” 8 Mark’s parents were relatively young, dressed in expensive clothes, and looked intimidating. “Joy, if your parents didn’t teach you better, you shouldn’t just play dumb, right? That was obviously my son’s lottery ticket. You cutting off our family’s fortune is literally ruining our livelihood!” I looked at the solid gold bracelets, gold necklace, and gold earrings she was wearing, thinking to myself that their “fortune” must be completely blind. I cleared my throat, and the ten massive guards behind me stepped forward in unison. Mark’s parents flinched, but his dad tried to put up a tough front: “Look, Joy, how about this? We’ll just pretend today never happened. Let’s not ruin the family harmony. As long as we can see you and Mark living a good life, we’ll be at peace…” “Don’t worry, you’re still our top choice for a daughter-in-law. How about we officially get you two engaged next month?” He winked meaningfully at Mark. So this was a forced marriage attempt. I waved my hand, shielding my parents behind me. “Not a chance. Who the hell wants to be your daughter-in-law? I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time. You—” I pointed at Mark. “Every time we eat, you inhale your food like you’re terrified I might eat one more bite than you. You complain and whine about paying for an Uber. You won’t even spend two hundred bucks on a hotel room. It’s always ‘my mom and dad’ this, ‘my mom and dad’ that. What, am I marrying you or your parents?” “Honestly, if you love going 50/50 so much, why even get married? Can you give birth? You only want to get married to trap me with a kid, right? But let me tell you, Mark, from the very beginning, I never planned on having kids with you.” “And you two—” I turned to his parents. “Since we’re not going to be in-laws, I’ll just speak my mind. You guys are loaded, but you absolutely refused to pitch in a dime for the wedding.” “My parents worked hard for half their lives to buy me a car as a wedding gift. What gave you the right to demand it be put in your son’s name? Do you want to know why your oldest son is still a bachelor in his thirties? He has his generous, open-handed parents to thank for that!” I turned and smiled. “But then again, birds of a feather flock together. You guys deserve each other—a whole family of cheapskates. It’s just a shame your oldest son is going to die a bachelor!” “Joy Vance!” Mark’s mom shrieked, swinging her designer handbag, trying to hit me. “Watch your dirty mouth! Whose son is going to die a bachelor?! He… he just has high standards!” The moment she spoke, several bodyguards surrounded them, forming an impenetrable wall. I waved my hand and helped my parents inside the house. Let them throw a fit. Whoever has the money makes the rules. Before I could figure out how to explain everything, my mom threw herself into my arms, trembling. “Joy, why didn’t you ever tell us any of this?!” My dad patted my shoulder, his head bowed, a bitter expression on his face. I was silent for a long time before finally saying, “I thought he was just frugal…” No, the bigger reason was our eight-year relationship. Mark was a constant throughout my high school and college years. During those eight years, I never had the chance to meet anyone else, and I naturally assumed that women shouldn’t take financial advantage of men in a relationship. But how was that a relationship? It was just two roommates splitting the bills!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391673”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was with Julian Sterling for three years. Then he got engaged to someone else, handed me a fifty-million-dollar check, and told me to get lost. Back then, I was too proud. I valued my dignity above everything else. I didn’t take the money. Two years passed, and my life had hit rock bottom. Coincidentally, a wealthy playboy started pursuing me. I said yes. On our very first date, he took me shopping. I didn’t hold back. I picked out seven figures worth of designer goods. But when it was time to pay, his card declined. The man was mortified. He immediately brought up his cousin, who supposedly held massive influence in the city. “My cousin happens to be in the area. I’ll just have him come over and handle it.” I said okay. But a few minutes later, when I saw the man who walked through the door, I was completely stunned. 1 At the checkout counter, Ethan Vance stared at the mountain of luxury goods and didn’t even blink. In that moment, I knew I had found the perfect boyfriend. Our meet-cute was ridiculously cliché. I was riding my electric scooter home from work and accidentally scraped his luxury car. He was on the phone at the time, his tone lazy and careless. “I’m breaking up with you. Is that so hard to understand, baby?” “It’s no fun if you take things too seriously.” He was the textbook definition of a wealthy playboy. Even after his car was scratched, he didn’t get angry. He just kept coaxing the girl on the phone while shooting me a highly suggestive look. Then he waved me off, telling me to go. I hesitated for a second, then left. Two years ago, I would have insisted on paying for the damage, even if it meant taking on a debt I couldn’t afford. But not anymore. The past two years had brutally taught me that ‘pride’ is the most useless thing in the world. Aside from a pretty face, I had absolutely nothing. So later, when he suddenly appeared outside my office building, I wasn’t surprised. A long time ago, I learned from a specific person that there are people in this world who are simply born different. They are arrogant, they burn money like paper, and getting whatever they want is effortless. They fundamentally believe that money can solve any problem. The sales associate quickly tallied the total and announced the exorbitant number. I did some quick math in my head. Once I break up with Ethan, this haul will be enough to buy a modest two-bedroom apartment and a decent car. How wonderful. Just as I was mentally celebrating, the sales associate spoke up, her voice hesitant. “Sir, this card…” It was declined. Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly, snatched the card back, and raised an eyebrow. “Give me a sec.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number with practiced ease. After hanging up, he turned to me. “My cousin is just a few blocks away buying gifts for his fiancée. He’ll be here in a minute to cover it.” I offered him a sweet, understanding smile. “Okay.” Since I started dating Ethan, I had heard rumors about this cousin. People always spoke of him with a mix of awe and fear— “That guy is serious news. I’m telling you, dating the young Mr. Vance is fine, but do not mess with his cousin.” “I heard he has a fiancée. They keep it very low-profile, but she’s from a major family. They’re supposedly very much in love.” It was just gossip. I listened to it, but didn’t care. But since I was about to meet him, I spent a few minutes mentally preparing my best smile and practicing my introduction. Yet, when the man finally walked through the door, my brain completely short-circuited. I stood frozen in place, my body rigid. Ethan stood next to me, wrapping his hand around mine. “Mia, say hi to my cousin.” “Cousin.” I heard my own voice. It was trembling. The man looked perfectly calm. He gave a faint nod. As if he had never seen me before in his life. “Mm.” Then, he walked right past me. We were so close I could catch the faint, familiar scent of his woodsy cologne. When we were together, he never wore this cologne. Because I didn’t like it. But looking at it now, nothing in this world stays the same. For example: I used to be his girlfriend. And now, I’m his cousin’s. 2 Julian swiped his black card, glancing casually at the mountain of designer bags and clothes. He frowned slightly but didn’t say a word. Ethan immediately started complaining to him. “Someone definitely snitched to my dad again and got my accounts frozen.” “Bro, I’ll transfer this back to you in a few days, I promise.” While we were waiting earlier, Ethan had mentioned that Julian was incredibly principled. Ever since they were kids, he had been notoriously strict with all his younger cousins. He didn’t believe in free handouts. He would provide resources or project funding, but only if you proved you actually had the skills to handle it. “My cousin is totally fine with spending money on us, but it has to be for something productive.” Funding a shopping spree for a new girlfriend? Yeah, he would absolutely demand to be paid back. But this time, Julian just gave Ethan a deeply unreadable look. “Don’t worry about it.” “Huh?” Ethan asked, looking genuinely shocked and flattered. “Does this mean I don’t have to pay you back next time I ask for money either?” Julian smiled. His expression was ice-cold. “No. Just this once.” Ethan rubbed his nose, completely missing the tension. “I knew it! You’re the best.” “My girlfriend is incredibly grateful, too.” “Girlfriend?” Julian repeated the word, finally deigning to look at me. I pressed my lips together, meeting his gaze. “Thank you.” He ignored me, exchanged a few more words with Ethan, and then turned to leave. Before he walked out, he handed his black card to Ethan. “Take it. Buy whatever you want.” Ethan eagerly took it, looking at Julian with absolute adoration. “Bro, you are literally my savior.” We shopped for a while longer until the sun started to set, then finally left the mall. Ethan had all the purchases delivered directly to my apartment. The street was relatively empty. He looked at my face, a suggestive glint in his eye. He traced my wrist with his thumb, then leaned in to kiss me. I didn’t pull away. He pressed closer, smoothly parting my lips. I clenched my fists tight, freezing in place. However, the very next second, his phone rang. “Tsk.” He reluctantly pulled away and pulled out his phone. The moment he saw the caller ID, his annoyance vanished instantly. “My cousin needs me. He says it’s an emergency. Wait here for a minute, I’ll have my driver take you home.” I told him not to worry about it, I could just call an Uber. He thought for a second. “Alright, text me when you get back.” After he left, I was just about to hail a cab. A sleek luxury car glided smoothly to a stop right next to me. The tinted window rolled down, revealing the sharp, aristocratic profile of the man inside. He turned to look at me. His gaze dropped immediately to my lips, lingering there for a long, heavy moment before he finally spoke. His voice was deep and freezing. Just two words, but they made my heart violently seize. “Get in.” 3 Bathed in the pale moonlight, I stood frozen on the sidewalk. Staring at Julian Sterling. Seeing my hesitation, he didn’t rush me. He simply raised an eyebrow. And drawled lazily. “Mia.” I lowered my head. “Mr. Sterling.” “Can I help you?” Honestly, when I saw him earlier, I was terrified. I never imagined my luck could be this catastrophically bad. The very first guy I date after leaving him turns out to be his cousin. I was pretty satisfied with Ethan. I wasn’t planning on breaking up with him anytime soon. My breakup with Julian was incredibly messy and humiliating. I was terrified he was going to expose our past to Ethan. Knowing Ethan’s personality, he would dump me immediately. Dating your cousin’s ex-girlfriend? That’s a massive taboo. Especially since Ethan practically worshipped Julian like an idol. Julian stared at me intensely. After a long silence, he let out a low, dark chuckle. It was laced with confusion, and absolute, unfiltered mockery. “You don’t actually think I still have feelings for you, do you?” I didn’t expect him to be so brutally blunt. I felt a rush of deep humiliation. Because a minute ago, that was exactly what I thought. From the time he left the mall until now, at least two hours had passed. Which meant he hadn’t gone anywhere. He had been sitting here waiting for us the entire time. Then, he deliberately called Ethan away. And now he was telling me to get in his car. The night was dark, and we were completely alone. We used to share an incredibly intimate history. And when we broke up, I knew for a fact he was still deeply in love with me. I still remember it clearly— We were having dinner at a high-end restaurant. He sat across from me, meticulously peeling shrimp for me. He knew it was my favorite. He didn’t stop until my plate was overflowing. While I ate, I teased him. “My roommate told me some freshman has been asking around about you. She said she wants to ask you out.” Julian was two years older than me; he was an alumni. Shortly after graduating, he founded his own tech company, which became wildly successful. The university had invited him back as a guest speaker. I was in the student council and had been assigned as his liaison. He was incredibly famous on campus. Everyone knew him as a brilliant, self-made tech prodigy. But he was also incredibly low-profile. For the longest time, no one knew that his last name, Sterling, connected him to the elite Sterling family from the ultra-exclusive Funing Road district. Anyone from that neighborhood was basically royalty in the capital. The first time I met him, I was shaking with nerves. He noticed and offered a lazy, relaxed smile. “Do I look scary?” I quickly shook my head. “No.” He was naturally gorgeous, and he carried himself with an effortless, magnetic confidence. Half the girls on campus were completely obsessed with him. We interacted a few more times, and the tension between us grew. His text replies went from one-word answers to long, detailed paragraphs. My roommates watched it all happen and hyped me up constantly. I was young and easily influenced, so I couldn’t hold back. I confessed my feelings to him under a streetlight on campus. And then I boldly leaned up and kissed his cheek. The moon was exceptionally bright that night. He looked down at me, staring in silence for a very long time, before letting out a soft sigh, looking at me like he was completely defenseless against me. “Are you sure?” “Yes!” From that day on, we were together. But very few people knew. On campus, only my closest roommates were aware. And now, sitting in this luxurious restaurant, Julian went completely quiet after I mentioned the freshman who wanted to pursue him. My smile faded. I couldn’t read his expression. “What? Do you actually want to go out with her…” He slowly wiped his hands with a napkin, raised his eyes, cut me off, and said with absolute seriousness: “No.” “I want to marry you.” 4 Clatter. The fork slipped from my hand and hit the porcelain plate. For someone as reserved, aristocratic, and disciplined as Julian, in the three years we had been together, those were the most romantic words he had ever spoken. His eyes were incredibly dark, locked onto me intensely. I smiled. “Okay.” But that was as far as the fairy tale went. Because I was too naive, I completely missed the hidden depth and complication in his eyes. Because just a few days later, I saw him walking out of an exclusive VIP club, his arm wrapped tightly around another girl. The girl was wearing a stunning, diamond-encrusted white dress that looked unimaginably expensive. She had her face buried in his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, looking incredibly intimate. A classmate standing next to me gasped in envy. “That’s Julian Sterling’s fiancée. I walked past their private room earlier and heard everyone cheering, asking when the wedding is.” “I had no idea he was that Julian Sterling! I just saw the club owner bowing and calling him ‘Young Master Sterling.’” In the capital, there were very few people the owner of that specific club would deferentially call “Young Master.” My mind completely blanked. I couldn’t understand. Wasn’t he my boyfriend? The next second, they reached a luxury car. I was just about to storm over and demand an explanation, when I saw the woman in Julian’s arms lift her face and kiss him directly on the lips. Julian’s body went completely rigid, and then he forcefully shoved her away. But my devastation didn’t lessen. After they drove away, I pulled out my phone and called him. “I saw everything.” He froze, then let out a heavy sigh through the phone. “Give me two years, okay?” “Our families have been close for generations. I can’t get out of this engagement right now.” That was the moment I finally understood. His “self-made startup” was just a billionaire heir playing a game. Even if it failed, he would still live a life of absolute, untouchable luxury. His background was so elite that there was no universe where we could be together. People in his social stratosphere didn’t marry girls like me. But he sounded so incredibly resolute on the phone: “Two years. I promise we will get married. But… during this time, I can’t give you an official title.” Saying he “couldn’t give me a title” was just a polite way of saying I would be his secret mistress. Back then, I was fiercely proud. I absolutely refused to accept that kind of humiliation. “Julian, what kind of woman do you think I am?” I fought back tears, my voice absolute and uncompromising. “We’re done.” He came looking for me many times after that. I refused to see him every single time. Even my roommates tried to convince me. “I can tell he genuinely loves you and wants to marry you. Just endure it for a bit. Waiting two years isn’t that bad. With a family background like his, sometimes he really doesn’t have a choice.” I didn’t say a word. Everyone kept telling me he loved me. But did his love give him the right to act like a god, casually ordering me to remain his nameless, hidden secret, shoving me into such a degrading, pathetic position? He was born with the world at his feet. So he naturally assumed I would obediently and silently stay by his side. He was absolutely certain I could never leave him, that I would wait for him. But he would never understand what that truly meant for me. It meant—that when another woman hugged him, kissed him, or even slept with him, I wouldn’t have the right to say a single word. I wouldn’t even have the right to be jealous. Because I would be the shameful, hidden secret. To him, and the people around him, it was “only two years.” They truly couldn’t fathom why I was being so difficult. The last time we saw each other was at the restaurant where I worked part-time. He sat alone at a table, ordering the most expensive items on the menu. When I brought his food, he just stared at me in total silence. It wasn’t until I turned to leave that he suddenly reached out, gripping my wrist so tightly it hurt. His voice was strained and tense as he said, “If you just say yes, you’ll never have to do this kind of work for the rest of your life.” He had enough money to guarantee I’d never have to worry about a single thing until the day I died. If it were me today, I probably would have said yes. But back then, I just glared at him coldly, and slapped him across the face. “I don’t need your charity.” He stood there, the corners of his eyes slowly turning red, remaining silent for a very long time. A crowd had gathered around us. They were all watching the spectacle, mocking him. But he didn’t care at all. He just said, his voice incredibly soft: “Just wait. I’ll marry you eventually.” It sounded like the arrogant delusion of a young man. But that very night, his best friend tracked me down. His name was Lucas. I had met him a few times and we had shared a few meals when Julian and I were together. After Julian and I broke up, he had actually tried to mediate and convince me to go back a few times. But this time, he wasn’t trying to convince me. Instead, he handed me a check. “Here. For you.” “He’s getting officially engaged. It’s the daughter of the Lu family. She’s not as pretty as you.” He laughed, looking me up and down. “And she’s not as stubborn as you, either.” “Honestly, I’ve never seen Julian care about a girl this much. Do you have any idea what he went through to…” He stopped himself, sighing. “Forget it. If Julian knew I told you, he’d kill me.” I calmly unfolded the check, counting the zeros several times to make sure I was reading it right. Fifty million. I had never seen that much money in my entire life. “Take the money. Do whatever you want with it, live a good life. Julian told me to tell you he’s coming back for you.” I ripped the check to shreds right in front of his face. I took a deep breath, holding onto my anger, and said: “Tell him this.” “I don’t want his money. Tell him to stop humiliating himself.” What I didn’t know was that Lucas was on the phone with Julian at that exact moment. Every single word I said was broadcast directly into Julian’s ear. I completely and utterly trampled his pride and dignity into the dirt. As soon as I got in the cab, I received a text from him. [Mia, you better not regret this.] Seeing that message, I wasn’t angry. I just pictured the expression on his face as he typed it. It was probably incredibly cold, tinged with a heavy dose of helplessness. Because why wouldn’t he feel helpless? Despite being the ultimate golden boy, despite having the entire world revolving around him, he couldn’t control everything. There was finally something he couldn’t keep. I pressed my lips together and typed back. [I won’t.]

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The day I was released from prison, Selena Lark stood by the roadside, sheltering under a black umbrella. Beside her was a little girl, whose eyes were uncannily like Nathan Slate’. Her voice, dampened by the rain, trembled: “Alec.” “I’ve waited eight years for you.” I walked around her, my steps unwavering. The little girl suddenly rushed over and hugged my leg: “Mommy says you’re my daddy.” My body stiffened. I looked down at the pendant clutched in her hand. It was the token of love I’d given Selena. But I’d smashed it the day our divorce was finalized. “Let go.” I pried her hands away, my voice icy. Selena’s face instantly paled. She caught up to me, grabbing my wrist. “Alec, I know you hate me, but after you went in, I had an early birth with Sandy. I only found out she was Nathan’s child after a paternity test!” She pleaded, “I’m sorry for what I did to you, but Sandy is innocent. If you’re willing, she can take care of you in your old age. I’ll talk to Nathan; he wouldn’t dare disagree.” “No need.” I pulled my hand free, my gaze calm. “I don’t need her, and I don’t need you, who sent me to prison.” After all, someone had been waiting for me outside all these years. I’d promised her we’d get married the moment I was free. 1 “Alec, how can you say that? I had my reasons, you—” “Does it still matter?” I interrupted her, my voice cold. Ignoring her complicated expression, I turned and walked away. But I hadn’t expected the scene to be captured by a hidden reporter. The hashtag #AlecBriarDisownsDaughterUponReleaseFromPrison# broke a hundred million views within three hours. In the candid photos: I pushed away the little girl’s hand, Selena frantically chasing me in the rain. She held a ruined high heel in one hand, her daughter’s hand in the other, clutching the umbrella pitifully between her shoulder and head. The caption read: [Abandoning his wife and daughter + corporate fraud. How does a man like this deserve to be released?] The comment section exploded. [Ms. Lark is so tragic! Scammed out of her money and feelings by Alec, raising her child alone, and now being treated like this!] [That little girl is so pathetic, called ‘Daddy’ only to be harshly pushed away. Alec is utterly inhuman!] [Where’s Mr. Slate? Where’s our Ms. Lark’s knight in shining armor? Why isn’t he protecting her!] Nathan Slate, now an industry titan. And my former mentee. He quickly posted an update, a photo of him holding Sandy, with the caption: [Some people harbor dark intentions, some let bygones be bygones. Right and wrong have always been in the heart.] Below it were comments overflowing with sympathy for Selena and curses hurled at me, calling me heartless. I turned off my phone, walking alone into the rain. Just as I reached my rented room in the old part of town, there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Thompson, my father’s old subordinate. He handed me a rusty USB drive: “Young master, the late chairman hid this in his safe. He said only you could see it.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Mr. Thompson, don’t call me ‘young master’ anymore. The Briar family is ruined.” I paused, my grip tightening on the USB drive, knuckles white. “My father… how did he die?” Eight years ago, after I was imprisoned, my father’s company went bankrupt overnight. Even the news of his death by jumping from a building was told to me by a prison guard. Mr. Thompson’s eyes reddened: “The chairman didn’t commit suicide. He was pushed. The scene was staged to look like an accident.” I plugged the USB drive into my laptop. The moment the video loaded, a chill spread through my veins. In the footage, my father was bound and thrown to the ground. Nathan Slate held a blood-stained knife to his throat. Selena Lark stood nearby, her abdomen slightly swollen, her face filled with terror: “Dad, just hand over the documents. I’m pregnant; Nathan can’t get into trouble!” My father trembled with rage: “Selena, you fool! Alec gave you everything, what is this Nathan Slate? Our Briar family showed him such kindness, and you’re conspiring with him to harm us!” “Dad, I had no choice!” Selena’s voice was tearful. “Sandy can’t be without a father. Alec is already in prison; if Nathan also falls, what will happen to us, mother and child?” She continued, “Just consider it for your granddaughter; hand over the items.” “You… you want my granddaughter to recognize her enemy as her father? You’re truly something!” Nathan Slate sneered, pushing the blade deeper. “Stop wasting time with him! Old man, don’t be ungrateful. If you don’t speak, I’ll make your granddaughter watch you die!” The video abruptly cut off amid my father’s enraged roar. I slammed the laptop shut. The fury in my chest threatened to consume all reason. My phone rang abruptly. An unknown number. But when I answered, it was the voice etched into my bones. “Alec, are you alright? Did you find a place to stay?” Selena Lark’s voice carried a cautious probe. “I know you hate me now, but I truly had difficulties back then.” “Difficulties?” I curled my lip, memories flooding back. In my senior year of high school, Selena was cornered in an alley by thugs who tried to steal her living expenses. I rushed forward, taking three punches for her, and slipped her my last fifty dollars. She was saved by me, crying that she had no money, all her family’s income went to support her younger brother. Even next semester’s tuition was uncertain. Seeing a delicate girl sobbing heartbrokenly before me, my heart softened. I ended up giving her the money I had saved for my own tuition. I said it was fine, my family wasn’t short on money, I’d just ask my father for more. But behind her back, I worked one odd job after another. Classes during the day, part-time jobs at night. It took me three full months to save enough for new tuition. Unfortunately, she eventually found out. That night, she couldn’t bear to take the bus, choosing to walk to save a dollar. I was hit by a bottle from a customer at a night market stall. She rushed up to protect me. Though much smaller than me, she erupted with astonishing strength. She wielded the shattered half of the bottle, roaring: “Who dares bully Alec, I’ll kill him! If you’re not afraid of death, come on!” That night, two vulnerable souls huddled together, and our feelings for each other grew unconsciously. After graduating from college, we squeezed into a rented apartment to start a business. She would hunch over the desk, drawing blueprints, while I stayed up all night writing code. When hungry, we’d cook a bowl of instant noodles and share it. She held my face and said: “Alec, when we succeed, I’ll marry you and be good to you my whole life.” The day our startup succeeded, I knelt on one knee and placed a custom ring on her finger: “Selena Lark, for the rest of our lives, I’ll protect you completely.” She cried and nodded, promising never to betray me. And Nathan Slate, he was my junior from my third year of college. His family was poor, his mother critically ill, his father had been in a truck accident, leaving the family deeply in debt. At that time, my father had already succeeded in his business, owning his first company. Upon learning of Nathan’s situation, my father generously covered all his mother’s medical expenses and sponsored his education. Nathan, with red eyes, knelt in our living room, swearing: “Alec, Uncle, you are like my second parents. I will definitely repay you well in the future.” My father patted his shoulder and said: “Work hard with Alec; our Briar family will not treat you unfairly.” I hired him into the company, personally teaching him core technologies, and gave him important projects to gain experience. Even when his mother passed away, I stayed with him for three days and nights, covering his funeral expenses. My father treated him like his own son, inviting him home for meals on holidays and stuffing red envelopes with cash into his hand. He even used his connections to sort out his sister’s enrollment issues. My father often said: “Nathan, you and Alec are like brothers. You’ll grow the company together in the future, supporting each other.” But our heartfelt generosity was met with a stab in the back. My new technology was at a critical stage. Nathan frequently stayed in the office until late at night, under the guise of asking for guidance. I answered all his questions without reservation, even giving him unencrypted code for reference. Selena also started coming home late more often. She always carried a strange perfume scent. Much later, I found out she wore perfume to cover up something sickening. But when I asked, she only said work was busy and told me not to overthink it. She also said Nathan was family and we should take good care of him. It wasn’t until the night before the tech launch that I caught her and Nathan kissing in the office. My core code was being used as a cushion, pressed under Selena’s bodycon dress. Caught in the act, she showed no remorse. “Alec, I’m sorry.” “Nathan doesn’t have as good a family background as you. The new technology can only achieve its maximum value with him.” I clenched my fist, my knuckles turning white. I slammed it on the desk, blood instantly staining the documents. “I ate instant noodles with you for three years, shielded you from countless difficulties, pulled you out of the mud, and now you’re telling me you’ve changed your mind?” “Alec, don’t get agitated.” Nathan wrapped his arm around Selena’s waist, looking at me provocatively. “Those were all your choices. A respectable Briar family heir wouldn’t want to take back such trivial things, would he?” Seeing Selena’s cautious, on-guard expression, I laughed until I was breathless, but tears welled up. “This company, my technology, everything I have, who was it all for? Selena Lark, you said you’d never betray me. Were your vows just meaningless words?” She turned her face away, her voice cold. “Vows aren’t to be taken seriously, Alec. Let’s part amicably.” I thought that night’s betrayal was hell on earth. Until the car accident, when I was severely injured and fell into a coma. When I woke up, what awaited me wasn’t comfort, but cold handcuffs. Selena Lark stood in the witness box, wearing a proper suit, her eyes cold: “I personally saw Alec tamper with data, steal company technology, and attempt to frame Nathan Slate.” She even produced fabricated chat records. Every word, every sentence, nailed me to the pillar of shame. Watching her righteously denounce me, at that moment, I no longer had the strength to even defend myself. Three months into my imprisonment, Selena came to see me. She wore an expensive dress, her makeup perfect. A stark contrast to my prison uniform. She pushed a divorce agreement across to me: “Alec, sign it. I had no choice.” “I’m pregnant, the child is yours. You can’t let her be born with a father in prison.” She added, “I’m begging you, let me go.” I looked at her, then suddenly laughed, a profound sorrow piercing my heart. “You and he conspired to harm my parents, ruined my life, and now you’re asking me to let you go?” My voice grew increasingly frantic. “If I let you go, who will let me go? Who will let the Briar family go?!” Her voice was pleading, yet her attitude was condescending. “For the sake of all our years together, don’t make things difficult for me.” She pressed, “Sign it. It’s better for both of us.” I stared at the woman I once loved to my bones, my heart feeling as if countless needles were piercing it. My hand trembled as I picked up the pen and signed my name on the divorce agreement. Each stroke was like carving my own tombstone. From that day on, my youth, all my love and faith, came to an abrupt end. When the news came that my father, unable to bear the blow, had jumped to his death, I screamed in rage in prison, only to be met with the cold stares of the guards. Meanwhile, they—one soared in success with the technology I developed, the other, pregnant with her enemy’s child, took over my father’s company. They reveled in everything that should have been mine. “Alec? Are you listening?” Selena Lark’s voice pulled me back to the present. Staring at the paused video on the screen, my voice was hoarse: “So, Nathan Slate couldn’t get into trouble, but I could? My parents could?” “I didn’t mean that!” She quickly defended herself. “I was pregnant with Sandy, desperate, and Nathan threatened me. If I didn’t cooperate, he’d kill my brother! I was forced!” I scoffed. “Didn’t your brother break ties with you long ago, with my help? Didn’t your so-called leech family already get a million dollars to cut that connection?” I continued, “What, the moment Nathan Slate appeared, your relatives resurrected? And you, who always resented your family, suddenly found love for your brother again?” I laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Selena Lark, you’re truly disgusting.” “Alec, I know you’ve suffered.” Her voice was tearful. “I’ve been thinking of you all these years. How have you been since your release? Is your living situation okay? Do you have money? I can help you.” “No need.” I hung up directly and blocked her number. But she seemed unwilling to give up, switching to another number and calling again. Text messages arrived one after another. “Alec, I know you still care about me, otherwise you wouldn’t hate me so much.” “Sandy misses you terribly. She always asks where her daddy is. She’s always thought of you as her real father. I haven’t told Nathan.” “I can make it up to you for what happened back then, if only you’re willing to forgive me.” I looked at those texts, feeling nothing but profound irony. After blocking the seventh number, I thought Selena Lark would give up. Unexpectedly, she quieted down, but Nathan Slate began to flaunt their affection online. He posted a set of family photos. Selena nestled in his arms, Sandy seated between them, all three smiling happily. The caption: “Eight years of companionship, grateful for you. Selena, Sandy, having you is my greatest happiness.” Immediately afterward, he posted a video. He had previously taken Selena and Sandy on a vacation abroad. In the video, he personally placed a necklace around Selena’s neck, making a heartfelt confession: “Thanks to your trust and companionship back then, we’ve made it to today. For the rest of our lives, I’ll protect you both with my life.” The hashtag #NathanSelenaEightYearsOfDeepLove# quickly shot to the top of trending topics. Netizens offered their blessings, and in passing, castigated me again. [In comparison, Alec is even worse!] [Ms. Lark and Mr. Slate are a match made in heaven. Alec is just a clown!] [Poor Mr. Slate, so magnanimous after being framed by Alec. No wonder Ms. Lark chose him!]

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When the kidnappers forced Liam Sterling to choose one of us to save, he abandoned his childhood sweetheart and chose me. But I didn’t go with him. Because I knew he would regret it. It happened exactly like this in our past life. After I was rescued, Liam’s childhood sweetheart was photographed in compromising positions by the kidnappers. The night she returned, she slit her wrists and died. Liam pretended not to care and went ahead with our wedding as planned, but he subjected me to endless emotional abuse throughout our marriage. Seven years later, when I finally forced him to agree to a divorce, he lost control of his emotions and drove our car off a cliff on the way to the courthouse. Even in his dying moments, he was still blaming me: “We owed Mia. We were supposed to spend our lives atoning for her. What right do you have to seek a peaceful life for yourself…” So, having been given a second chance, I refuse to live that life again. 1 “Chloe, come with me.” The moment I realized I had been reborn, a kidnapper was pressing a knife against both my and Mia’s necks. They demanded that Liam choose one of us to save. Liam’s gaze darted between the two of us. After a fierce internal struggle, he made the exact same choice he did in our past life— He reached his hand out to me. But I firmly shook my head. “Liam, save Mia first.” In this life, I don’t want to owe anyone anything, and I certainly don’t want to carry the weight of another life on my conscience. Hearing this, Liam seemed to let out a sigh of relief. “Chloe, you are my fiancée. I should save you first. But since you said it yourself, don’t blame me.” Then, he grabbed Mia and left the scene as fast as humanly possible, as if terrified I would change my mind in the next second. But I’m not like him. I don’t make a choice and then spend my life regretting it. In our past life, it went exactly like this. He arrived with the ransom, but the kidnappers suddenly increased their demands, saying he could only take one person. Forced into a corner, Liam ultimately chose me. However, during the time we went back to gather more money, the kidnappers lusted after Mia, took compromising photos of her, and were just about to assault her. Fortunately, we arrived with the police just in time. But even though they hadn’t gone all the way, a situation like that is enough to completely destroy a girl’s dignity. Mia returned home a broken shell of a person. That night, after everyone fell asleep, she slit her wrists. By the time she was found, it was too late. When Liam heard the news, he didn’t show the slightest hint of caring. He calmly handled Mia’s funeral and gave her family a large sum of money as compensation. Even when I suggested postponing our wedding, he flatly refused. “Chloe, marrying you has been planned for a long time. We can’t let an outsider affect it.” Yet, it was this “outsider” he obsessed over for seven straight years. He only married me to trap me, to make me atone for Mia. But what did I do wrong? 2 After Liam and Mia left, I started trying to figure out how to save myself. Because this time, I wasn’t sure if Liam would actually come back. In our past life, he used the excuse of giving Mia a comforting hug to slip a tracker into her pocket. So even when the kidnappers moved us, we were able to find Mia immediately using the tracker. But just now, he seemed to have completely forgotten about that. I guess, from the very beginning, the only person he ever wanted to save was Mia. He only reluctantly chose me because of my status as his fiancée, terrified of the public backlash if he didn’t. After all, ours was just an arranged marriage; our relationship was mediocre at best. But Mia had been by his side through his purest, most innocent years. They were childhood sweethearts, best friends, and soulmates. It makes sense that the Liam of our past life regretted his choice. In this life, he finally got what he truly wanted. I was happy for him. At the same time, I didn’t forget to look for a chance to escape. I knew that when the kidnappers moved locations, they would pass by an auto repair shop. The mechanics there were notoriously fierce and brutal fighters. In my past life, when the kidnappers passed by, they tried to temporarily commandeer the shop. They didn’t expect the owner to be a total badass who stubbornly refused. The two groups grabbed whatever weapons they could find and had a massive brawl. The kidnappers probably never imagined they’d run into people even more ruthless than they were. Terrified of escalating the situation further, they eventually scurried away with their tails tucked between their legs. Later, when the kidnappers were arrested, the owner of the repair shop even came forward to testify against them. 3 Just like in my past life, they left one guy in the van to watch me. The rest of them charged toward the repair shop. My hands were tied behind my back. The kidnapper in the driver’s seat completely ignored me, thinking I wasn’t a threat. Taking advantage of his inattention, I leaned over and used my teeth to pull the door handle. I shoved the door open and ran forward like a maniac. My target was the same as the kidnappers’: the auto repair shop. I wanted to make a bet. A bet that they wouldn’t just watch someone die without helping. So, I blatantly charged right in. The repair shop was already in total chaos. I immediately spotted the young owner. His features were sharp and defined, radiating an aura of unwavering righteousness. Combined with his agile, powerful fighting moves, he looked incredibly cool. Terrified of getting caught in the crossfire, I hunched over and sprinted toward him with lightning speed. But I used too much force and ended up tackling him straight to the ground. As I crashed into his chest, my face went pale with terror. “I-I’m so sorry.” I apologized incoherently. “Could you please, please help me?” The man glanced at me, his brow furrowing. The next second, he grabbed me and rolled several times across the floor. Then, with a loud CRASH, a heavy stool slammed into the exact spot we had just been lying in. If he hadn’t noticed it in time, I would have been seriously injured, if not worse. Still shaken, the kidnappers noticed I had escaped from the van. So, their objective shifted from taking over the shop to demanding I be handed over. The two sides faced off. I looked pitifully at the man beside me and whispered, “If you can save me, I’ll do anything you want.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared thoughtfully at the group of kidnappers. Someone behind him couldn’t help but warn him, “Noah, less trouble is better than more.” So his name is Noah. Receiving no answer after a long pause, my heart slowly sank. Forget it. Why force him? When the leader of the kidnappers yelled for me to come over for the third time, I took a step forward. But almost instantly, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I was forced to stop. Noah stepped forward and announced to the kidnappers, “She’s under my protection today.” Perhaps even God was on my side, because the loud roar of motorcycles suddenly echoed from outside. A confident smile spread across Noah’s face. “My backup is here.” Hearing this, the kidnappers shot me a resentful glare, cursed under their breath, and left. My heart, which had been hanging by a thread, finally dropped back into my chest. I let out a long breath and suddenly felt the tension on my wrists loosen. Noah had cut the ropes binding my hands. 4 “My name is Chloe. Thank you so much for what you just did,” I said, reaching my hand out to him. Noah, however, kept his eyes fixed on my wrists. The ropes had left deep, bloody welts that looked terrifying. “Let me clean that up for you.” I shook my head. “It’s just a scratch. It’s fine.” “Who was it just now who said if I saved her, she’d do anything I wanted?” “…” Ignoring my protests, he gently but firmly pushed me onto a stool and brought over a first-aid kit. “This might sting a bit.” I bit my lip, watching him intently as he carefully treated my wounds. A sudden warmth bloomed in my chest. I remembered in my past life, shortly after Liam and I got married, there was a time he came home drunk. As I was helping him back to our room, I casually mentioned he should drink less. He flew into a sudden rage and violently shoved me away. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. The jade bracelet on my wrist hit the hardwood and shattered into pieces, the shards slicing deeply into my wrist. I screamed, clutching my bleeding wrist and crying out in pain. But Liam just stared at me coldly and said: “Does it hurt? It should. Mia suffered a thousand, a million times more pain than you, but she can’t cry out anymore. If she hadn’t tried to save you, she wouldn’t have been assaulted by those kidnappers! She wouldn’t have…” I just sat there on the floor, my face full of disbelief. My heart turned to ice, inch by inch. It took a long time before I found my voice again. “But the kidnappers took both me and Mia to threaten you! And you were the one who chose to save me first! Why are you saying all this to me now?!” The drunkenness on Liam’s face seemed to have faded significantly, but his eyes remained ice-cold. “Chloe, I was always against this arranged marriage. If you hadn’t told my grandmother you liked me, she never would have forced me to marry you.” “So, what you’re saying is, if I weren’t in the picture, you would only have had to save Mia. Is that it?” “Haha…” I suddenly burst out laughing. “Liam, you’re literally insane. You don’t blame the kidnappers, you blame me instead.” I stood up and went back to my room to bandage my own wounds. From that day on, no matter how much it hurt, I never told Liam again. And now, the man in front of me, afraid that I was in pain, was clumsily blowing air onto my wounds. My eyes stung. I closed them, took a deep breath, and asked a question I already knew the answer to: “What are you doing?” Noah looked up, his smile pure and genuine. “When I got hurt as a kid, this is what my mom used to do. Does it feel any better?” I nodded. “Yeah, much better.” Receiving validation, Noah continued what he was doing. But the atmosphere was soon ruined by someone else. 5 “Noah! I heard someone was causing trouble at your shop, so I rushed right over…” “Holy crap! Where did you find such a gorgeous girl?!” A tall man with a full sleeve tattoo walked through the door. The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up. “Wow, this is rare. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen a girl this pretty at your place…” As the tattooed guy spoke, a bizarrely shy flush crept over his face. Seeing this, Noah stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Thanks, but it’s already handled. As for everything else, it’s none of your business. I’ll buy you a drink sometime.” The tattooed guy froze, then caught on. “Bro, now that you’ve got a girl, you don’t even have time for your bros?!” He haughtily turned his head away and let out a loud “Hmph!” He actually looked like he was pouting. Noah rubbed his temples, then pulled him aside and muttered, “Can you read the room? Go find somewhere else to be.” “Noah, is she your girlfriend?” “Does it look like it?” “Yeah! You guys look like a perfect match.” “Good to know you have eyes.” “I don’t care, you have to invite me to the wedding.” “You’ll get your invite.” “…” The two men muttered to each other a short distance away. Even though they intentionally lowered their voices, I could hear every word perfectly clearly. To ease the awkwardness, I pretended to be very busy, looking left, right, up, and down—anywhere but at them. A few minutes later, Noah managed to shoo the tattooed guy away. Once he was gone, Noah asked me, “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.” Perhaps out of pure selfishness, I suddenly didn’t want to go back so soon. Anyway, my parents were always busy with their own things. Even if I didn’t come home for a month, they wouldn’t ask about it. As for Liam, if my guess was right, he had probably been reborn too. Right now, he must be desperate to stay by Mia’s side forever. In our past life, during our seven years of marriage, he never once took me to any public events, and we never shared a bedroom. When people asked about me, he always kept a cold face, eventually turning me into a running joke in our social circle. In this life, I just want to stay as far away from him as possible. So I looked at Noah and pleaded, “Could you take me in for a few days?” I carefully pinched the corner of his shirt with my fingers and tugged it gently. Based on what I knew from both lives, he seemed like a genuinely good guy. Plus, he had the ability to protect me. If I decided to cling to him, would he refuse? Noah suddenly leaned his face close to mine. His gaze was incredibly intense and burning. “Little girl, if you keep acting like this, I might actually take it seriously…” Because he was so close, I could even smell the fresh scent of soap on him. I instinctively swallowed hard. Just as I was about to speak, a familiar voice rang out from behind me. “What are you two doing?!” It was Liam… He had arrived with the police. 6 “Are you okay?” Liam looked at me, and the concern in his eyes didn’t seem fake. I threw my hands up. “Do I look like I’m not okay?” Liam remained silent. Mia walked in right behind him. She glanced around the repair shop, which had already returned to normal operations, and asked bluntly: “Chloe, how exactly did you escape from those kidnappers? “As far as I know, there were six of them. Your hands were tied, and you didn’t know the area. I’m genuinely very curious…” What was she trying to imply? “Everyone knows the Vance family and the Sterling family are planning a marriage alliance, but both families are also eyeing that plot of land in the South District. The auction is in ten days, highest bidder wins. “And then, at the most critical moment, something like this happens, with an astronomically high ransom demand. Chloe, it’s really hard for me not to think the worst.” She suspected I hired the kidnappers?! I admit, in both of my lives, I have never been this speechless. In my past life, I felt truly helpless and sympathetic toward Mia’s tragedy. But in this life, I practically saved her. And the first thing she does after being rescued is turn around and bite me. It was truly chilling. I suddenly raised my hand and shouted loudly, “Officer! This person is slandering me!” And then, we were all taken down to the station. While waiting to be interrogated, Mia was relentless. “Chloe, why are you afraid to speak?” I sneered coldly. “Why should I speak to you? You’re not a cop.” Mia was momentarily at a loss for words. Liam couldn’t stand it and immediately stepped up to defend Mia. “Chloe, Mia just wants to know the truth so she knows what she should and shouldn’t say during the interrogation.” “What? You guys planning to lie to the police?” Furious, Liam stood up, pointing at me. “Chloe, you are completely unreasonable!” Noah, who had just walked out of an interrogation room, saw this and stepped right in front of me without a second thought. “Put your hand down.” His tone was flat, but it carried an undeniable, oppressive authority. Hiding behind Noah, I couldn’t see their expressions, but I could vaguely smell gunpowder in the air. I heard Liam demand, “Who are you to her?” Noah turned his head to look at me, the corner of his mouth slightly raised. He asked back, “Who do you think?” I looked up at his ridiculously perfect side profile, which was so close to me. As if possessed by a ghost, I used my thumb and index finger to make a little heart shape at him. Seeing this, Liam’s face instantly darkened several shades. Right at that moment, an officer called him in to give his statement.

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One drunken night, Ethan Vance got a girl pregnant. By the time I found out, she was already six months along. He told me that if we kept the child, we could go back to the way things were. I shook my head and asked him, stubbornly: “Between me and this child, who do you choose?” That day, he stayed silent for a long time, unable to give me an answer. But after I vanished, he finally realized his mistake. 1 In the five years we were married, I never imagined it would end like this. On the steps outside the hospital, Ethan was carefully supporting a young, beautiful girl. I stood a short distance away, making direct eye contact with an Ethan I hadn’t seen looking so tender in a long time. His eyes darted away, stiffly avoiding my gaze. The heavily pregnant girl next to him also looked my way, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. After safely helping the girl into a car and whispering some careful instructions, Ethan walked over to me. His steps were calm and composed, entirely lacking the panic I expected from someone caught red-handed. First, he took my ice-cold hands and wrapped them tightly in his own. “Why are you at the hospital? Are you feeling unwell?” He spoke with concern, reaching out to check my forehead. I dodged his hand. “Who is she?” Ethan didn’t answer my question. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, trying to comfort me. “No one important. I’ll explain everything when we get home, okay?” In that moment, his soft, gentle tone was what finally broke me. Tears started to fall. I looked up at him stubbornly, demanding an answer. As long as he said it, I would believe him. Ethan sighed softly, then gently wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “The child is mine.” The tears froze on my face. I forgot how to breathe. I bit my lip until it was bruised red, broke free from his embrace, and stumbled backward. Only then did a flicker of anger cross Ethan’s face. He pulled me back into his arms, looking at me with heartache. “Mia, you can blame me, but don’t torture yourself.” I didn’t understand how he could do something like this, yet still put on this display of love for me. During our silent standoff… The girl stepped out of the car. “Get back inside!” Ethan snapped, his face cold, his voice devoid of any warmth. The girl looked at him timidly but didn’t leave. A newfound determination hardened her eyes. “Mrs. Vance, Ethan and I aren’t what you think. This baby was an accident.” She offered a bitter smile. “If I could, I would want this child less than anyone.” My vision blurred. Even though I couldn’t see the expression on his face clearly… I knew him well enough to sense that the initial coldness was already gone. “Enough, stop talking!” Jealousy, resentment… all these emotions flooded my heart, and I screamed in breakdown. The girl, startled, swayed and nearly fell, but was quickly caught in his arms. I stared blankly at this scene, a thought flashing through my mind. I lunged towards them. Just as I was about to bump into the girl’s swollen belly, a powerful force shoved me away. I sat on the ground, lifting my scraped palms, and gave a tragic, empty smile. Ethan stared in disbelief at his outstretched hand, frozen. That day, Ethan left the six-month pregnant girl and took me home. But I knew, he and I had no future left. 2 Once we got home, Ethan gave me an explanation. I sat on the bed, unmoving for a long time. He stood on the balcony of my room, smoking for the entire night. I knew he was using self-flagellation to make my heart ache for him. He always knew exactly where my weak spots were. As dawn broke, Ethan turned around, walked back inside, and came to my side. “Hungry? What do you want to eat? I’ll cook.” I called out to him with a raspy voice. “Ethan, we need to talk.” Ethan’s footsteps paused, but he didn’t turn back for a long time. He knew my personality perfectly; he knew I cared deeply about this kind of thing. I cared a lot. Even though he was drunk that night, and even though his interaction with that girl was an unintentional accident… I could never forgive him. So, Ethan had kept it a secret. But no one could have anticipated that the stranger, a girl he only met once, would get pregnant. Due to a specific medical condition, she couldn’t terminate the pregnancy. And that brought us to today’s reality. Ethan still walked away. He didn’t dare face what I was going to say next. I knew he loved me. If he didn’t love me, we wouldn’t have survived our long courtship. If he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have spoiled me into someone who could throw tantrums and cry over the smallest things. For the next week, Ethan didn’t come home. Yet, he called the housekeeper every single day, asking for detailed updates on how I was doing. The housekeeper tried to comfort me: “Ma’am, you and Mr. Vance are the most deeply in love couple I’ve ever seen. Whatever is going on, just talk it out. “He… he’s lost so much weight recently.” The housekeeper had been with us for years; she had never seen Ethan and me have a single argument. Even Ethan’s mother, who had initially disapproved of me, eventually accepted me as her daughter-in-law because of how happy we were together. My phone rang. It was Ethan calling. “Sister-in-law, Ethan’s had too much to drink. Can you come pick him up?” “Don’t bother with him!” After hanging up, the heavy knot in my chest didn’t dissipate; it only grew tighter. My mind kept replaying the image of Ethan’s retreating back, looking somehow stooped and defeated. I couldn’t bring myself to be completely heartless and abandon him there alone. After a brief internal struggle, I grabbed the car keys. And strode out the door. 3 The door to the private room was slightly ajar. I stood outside, not going in. Ethan was indeed very drunk, sprawled out on the sofa with all four limbs splayed, completely devoid of his usual dignity. Standing in front of him was the heavily pregnant girl. Ethan’s friend looked a bit embarrassed. “Miss Su, my sister-in-law refused to come, and Ethan refused to leave, so I had to call you.” The girl smiled gently and lifted one of Ethan’s arms to help him up. He unexpectedly shoved her away. A few startled gasps snapped Ethan out of his drunken stupor. He looked at the woman in front of him, a smile uglier than crying forming on his face. “Chloe Su, it’s all because of you… Mia doesn’t want me anymore…” Ethan kept repeating that phrase, then started searching frantically for more alcohol. No one could stop him. He grabbed a bottle and started chugging it like his life depended on it. Chloe suddenly snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it violently onto the floor. The room instantly fell silent. Even Ethan, who had been throwing a drunken tantrum just a moment ago, stared at her blankly. “Ethan, causing a scene like this will scare our child. “Get up. I’m tired. Take me home.” In this city, Ethan Vance was a man who commanded immense respect and power. Other than me, no one had ever dared order him around like this. Everyone assumed he was going to explode. No one dared to breathe. But in that suffocating atmosphere, Ethan didn’t say a single word. He slowly got up, grabbed his jacket, and quietly followed Chloe out. They left together. Hiding in the corner, I watched the man and woman walk away. And suddenly, I smiled. Only, this smile carried a heavy, bitter taste. I followed their taxi to a high-end residential complex. I watched with my own eyes as Ethan got out and followed the girl upstairs. A light flicked on in an apartment high above. I sat in my car and watched for the entire night. Ethan never came out. At seven in the morning, he walked back inside carrying breakfast. I stared at that incredibly familiar silhouette. And quietly drove away alone. 4 I called Ethan back home, but I didn’t bring up divorce. I looked at the man, who looked noticeably thinner, and quickly averted my gaze. “I didn’t pick you up last night. Where did you sleep?” Ethan’s fingers twitched slightly. After a moment, he said: “I slept at the office.” I couldn’t quite name the feeling in my chest—it wasn’t really bitterness. It was more like overwhelming disappointment. Since when had Ethan learned to lie to me? The man who once promised to be completely honest with me for the rest of his life had changed. I didn’t expose his lie, because to me, it didn’t matter anymore. “How many months along is she?” Ethan’s voice paused for a few seconds, seemingly reluctant to hurt me. “Almost seven months.” After answering, he dropped to one knee in front of me, burying his face deeply into my lap. His tears soaked right through my skirt. “Mia, I was wrong. Please don’t leave me.” In my memory, Ethan had never cried before. Now, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Watching him cry made my heart ache. But I knew, in this moment, I couldn’t be soft-hearted. “Set up a meeting for me and that girl.” We chose to meet at Chloe’s apartment. Ethan waited outside the door. Chloe gently stroked her belly, her eyes filled with absolute anticipation for the child. “That night, the lights were off, and I was genuinely terrified. “But the next morning, when I saw Mr. Vance lying next to me… I actually felt a brief moment of relief.” Chloe laughed as she spoke. She looked up at me, still maintaining that gentle, beautiful facade. “Ms. Harrison, since our child is going to be born soon, why don’t you just step aside and let us be together?” With Ethan absent, the girl in front of me seemed like a completely different person. Honestly, I wasn’t that surprised. Because the night I went looking for Ethan, Chloe had glanced at me from behind the door. I knew she had seen me that night. She slowly stood up and pushed open a closed door. Inside was a cozy, fully decorated nursery. “Everything in here was personally picked out by Mr. Vance. He decorated the room himself. “He’s not entirely unexcited about this child.” I desperately wanted to maintain my last shred of composure in front of Chloe, who was showing off Ethan’s fatherly devotion. But I still let her provoke me. So, Ethan was actually looking forward to this child. He wasn’t entirely indifferent. It felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. I braced one hand on the dining table, knocking over a glass of water. The sharp sound of shattering glass struck my heart, fracturing it into countless pieces. Hearing the noise, Ethan rushed in to find me swaying unsteadily, while Chloe lay on the floor, crying out in pain. That day, I will never forget that Ethan’s first choice was no longer me. Chloe shot me a triumphant smile, thinking she had won. As he brushed past me, Ethan hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Ultimately, he walked right past me, scooped Chloe up, and rushed her to the hospital. 5 In the moment he left, Ethan didn’t even look at me. I stood there for a very long time before slowly accepting the reality that he had abandoned me. I followed them to the hospital. By the time I arrived, Ethan’s parents were already there. So, I was the only one kept in the dark. They had known all along. Seeing me approach, Ethan’s mother slapped me hard across the face. “If anything happens to my grandson, I’ll make you pay!” Ethan immediately stepped in front of me, shielding my entire body behind his. Seeing this, his mother grew even more furious. “Ethan Vance! You protect her all you want normally, but right now, she’s trying to harm your son!” Ethan laughed, a sound laced with suppressed rebellion. “So what? If he’s gone, he’s gone.” If they hadn’t kept the child a secret from him, Mia wouldn’t be hurting like this. No one knew that when he saw Chloe fall… His first reaction had actually been relief. He was beginning to deeply regret this unexpected complication. The doctor came out and announced the baby was safe. Ethan’s parents rushed into the room, fussing over Chloe and asking if she was okay. But Chloe kept her pitiful gaze fixed on Ethan, who remained standing by the door. If she dared to frame me, I certainly wasn’t going to let her have what she wanted. I revealed my swollen, red left cheek to make his heart ache, and said to Ethan: “I don’t want to stay here anymore.” Ethan left with me. Before we left, I looked at Chloe lying in the hospital bed and returned her earlier triumphant smile. At least for now, Ethan still favored me. Even if I no longer wanted that favoritism. During the days when Ethan thought I was accepting the child, I was already preparing to leave. I packed my belongings and drafted a divorce agreement. I was just waiting for the right day. That’s right, I was going to leave on the day Chloe gave birth. Didn’t she want me to step aside and let them be a happy family of three? I was going to grant her wish. 6 Lately, I’d been having a dull ache in my lower abdomen. I had planned to get it checked out the day I went to the hospital, but I hadn’t expected to run into them. I made a new appointment and got checked. When I received the results, I laughed until I cried. Ethan and I had been trying for a baby for five years with no luck. And now, this child seemed to have arrived at the absolute worst possible time. I wandered aimlessly through the hospital, clutching the positive pregnancy test, completely unsure of what to do with the tiny life growing inside me. I knew I should get rid of it, but I couldn’t bear to. This decision was harder than giving up Ethan. Until I looked up and saw Ethan walking out of a prenatal checkup with Chloe. Neither of us had brought up Chloe in the past few days. He assumed my silence meant tacit acceptance of the situation. “Ethan, our baby is so healthy. I’m so happy.” Ethan’s tone revealed nothing, but his slightly raised eyebrows betrayed his good mood. “Yeah. You’re taking good care of him.” They were so absorbed in discussing the baby that they didn’t even notice I had stopped right in front of them. The moment Ethan saw me, he immediately dropped Chloe’s hand and put distance between them. After a heavy silence, I spoke first. “What a coincidence. I’ll leave you two to it. I have to go.” Ethan panicked, grabbing my arm to stop me. “Mia, let me explain.” I calmly pulled my arm free, without a trace of anger. “I’m not mad. This child is your responsibility. I understand.” At those words, Chloe’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Ms. Harrison, do you really agree to let us keep the baby?” Since we had torn away all pretenses last time, I didn’t bother offering her a friendly expression. “Ms. Su, your baby is due in a few days. Does it matter if I agree or not?” The woman suddenly panicked, her voice taking on a tearful edge. “I… I was forced.” Saying these things now was utterly meaningless. I didn’t let Ethan follow me. I turned around and headed back to the doctor’s office. Someone had just made the decision for me.

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“Isolated and bullied by the entire office just because I refused the eighty-hour work week?” I’m the new Audit Lead. I’ve been here three months, and in that time, no one has spoken a word to me. My reports are hijacked, and “accidental” coffee spills are a weekly occurrence. At the annual gala, Linda—the woman who’s spent the last quarter stealing my credit—stands on stage as ‘Employee of the Year.’ She smirks into the microphone, throwing shade for the whole company to hear: “Some people are just dead weight. They don’t understand what it means to truly sacrifice for the team.” I just smile. I walk up to the stage and take the mic. With one sentence, the room turns to ice. And Linda? Her face doesn’t just drop—it shatters. 1 My name is Andrea Lawson. I’m twenty-five, and I didn’t exactly take the traditional route into my family’s empire. My father’s mandate was clear: start at the bottom, keep your head down, and find the rot. He sent me to one of our most troubled subsidiaries in Charlotte to serve as the Audit Lead. My mission wasn’t to manage; it was to excise the cancer of internal corruption. I accepted without hesitation. From day one, the atmosphere was glacial. My desk was tucked into a dim corner, buried under mountains of legacy files no one bothered to explain. Every “good morning” I offered was met with a dismissive nod or a cold, calculated stare. Then there was Linda Vickers. She was in her late thirties with a gaze that screamed corporate shark. She was the first to test my limits. I’d barely finished my first comprehensive audit when she intercepted the file before I could present it to the Director. By the afternoon meeting, her name was on the cover. The Director showered her with praise while Linda beamed, soaking in the stolen glory. I sat there, a ghost in the room. Afterward, I caught her by the breakroom. “Linda, about that report—” She didn’t even look up from her phone. She just curled her lip in a way that felt like a slap. “Listen, honey, you’re young. You need to learn how things work around here. Don’t be so eager to take credit. I did you a favor by polishing that mess of yours.” I didn’t argue. I just walked away, knowing I had the original digital timestamps saved on an encrypted drive. This was only the beginning. Lunch was a solitary affair. It was a choreographed dance; the moment I stood up, the rest of the office would leave in clusters. One afternoon, as I was pouring a fresh cup of coffee, Linda “happened” to brush past me. Her elbow caught my arm, and the scalding liquid surged over the brim, soaking my laptop keyboard. The screen flickered once and went black. Linda gasped—a sound so hollow it made my skin crawl. “Oh, Andrea! You really need to watch where you’re going. You’re so clumsy.” The Director, Howard Bennett, came over to see what the commotion was. He didn’t ask if I was okay; he just told me to go fetch a replacement from IT. I didn’t lose my temper. I wiped the coffee from my desk in silence, already weaving a net they couldn’t see. 2 My life as the “Invisible Woman” continued. I was the girl who clocked in at nine and left at five. In a culture that worshipped “hustle” and “toxic productivity,” I was a heretic. Howard was a master of the corporate gaslight. He’d hold these mandatory meetings, preaching that the company was a “family” and that “sacrifice” was our highest calling. He rebranded the grueling overtime as “passion” and “personal growth.” I refused to play. My investigation required a sharp mind and hours of quiet, uninterrupted work—not performative exhaustion. My refusal to stay until 10:00 PM became their favorite weapon to use against me. “Andrea, we’re a team here,” Howard said during a staff meeting, his voice dripping with forced concern. “When everyone else is grinding and you’re out the door at five, it really hurts morale.” Linda chimed in from the side, her eyes full of scorn. “It’s hard to trust someone who isn’t ‘all in,’ isn’t it?” I looked Howard straight in the eye. “My productivity isn’t measured by how many hours I sit in this chair. The data in my reports speaks for itself.” The room went silent. Howard’s face flushed a deep, angry red. He cleared his throat and ended the meeting abruptly. I didn’t care about the icy glares following me out. The more they hated my calm, the more mistakes they’d make. A week later, I submitted a proposal for optimizing our procurement process. I’d spent weeks agonizing over it, identifying loopholes that were costing us millions. Howard barely glanced at it before tossing it onto a pile of junk mail. Three days later, it appeared on the company intranet—word for word—with Linda Vickers listed as the sole author. Howard hailed it as a “revolutionary breakthrough.” I didn’t confront them. I just saved the version history, the metadata, and the submission logs. My patience was fraying, but the trap was almost set. Then came the “technical issues.” My thumb drive vanished from my desk; files were remotely deleted from my shared folder. I didn’t make a scene. I simply used recovery software to pull them back and started backing everything up to a private cloud server. I even installed a tiny, discreet camera at my workstation. I wasn’t just taking the hits anymore; I was collecting receipts. 3 I became a ghost in the machine. Every suggestion I made was vetoed. Every insight was ignored. Under Linda’s “leadership,” the rest of the audit team treated me like a leper. They’d stop talking the moment I entered the room, exchanging knowing, cruel smirks. I leaned into the silence. I started staying late—not for their “hustle,” but for my hunt. In the quiet of the empty office, I tore through the layered financial statements they thought were hidden. I found the threads. A web of vendors all tied back to shell companies owned by Linda and Howard’s relatives. The “clean” procurement contracts were actually bloated with kickbacks. It was a sophisticated laundering scheme, funneling millions into offshore accounts. I compiled it all. Every transaction, every shell company, every forged signature. I mapped the rot with surgical precision. They mistook my quietness for weakness. Linda got bolder. She’d stand near my desk and whisper to Howard about “top-secret projects,” throwing me looks of mocking pity. One afternoon, she handed a quarterly report that was legally my responsibility to a brand-new intern. “Watch and learn from a pro, kid,” she told him, loud enough for the whole floor to hear. The intern looked at me, embarrassed. “It’s fine,” I told him with a small, tight smile. “Do your best.” I walked away without a word. Every insult they threw was just another nail in their professional coffins. I even started “failing” on purpose. I’d leave minor, obvious errors in unimportant files just to watch them pounce on me during meetings. They’d tear me apart, feeling superior, feeling invincible. They thought I was a sacrificial lamb. They had no idea I was the butcher. 4 The three-month mark arrived, and with it, the annual company gala. The office was buzzing with a fake, frantic energy. Everyone was obsessed with the year-end bonuses and the “Employee of the Year” award. Linda was the shoo-in. Howard was already bragging about his upcoming promotion to the regional office. They thought they were untouchable. I knew it was just the eye of the storm. I moved all my evidence—the recordings, the bank statements, the video footage—onto a single, encrypted external drive. I kept it on my person at all times. I’d already made a quiet call to the Chief Legal Officer at the corporate headquarters. I didn’t give details; I just told them to be ready. The night before the gala, Howard called me into his office. He sat behind his mahogany desk, looking like a man who had already won. “Andrea, look. You’re a bright girl, but you’re just not a ‘culture fit,’” he said, using that classic corporate euphemism for ‘we hate you.’ “You’re an outsider. You don’t blend. I’m going to give you a graceful way out. Sign this resignation, and I’ll give you a glowing recommendation.” He pushed a paper toward me. I didn’t even pick it up. “Howard,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “I didn’t come here to blend in. I came to fix what’s broken. And my employment isn’t your decision to make.” His face turned a sickly shade of purple. He waved me out of the office, his hand shaking with rage. We were past the point of no return. 5 The gala was held in a gilded ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton. Crystal chandeliers, open bars, and a sea of people in expensive suits pretending to like each other. I wore a simple, charcoal-grey suit and sat at the furthest table in the back. I was an island in a sea of forced laughter. I watched them. I watched the people who had mocked me and stolen from me as they hovered around Howard and Linda like moths to a flame. The awards ceremony began. Howard took the stage, glowing with self-importance. He gave a nauseating speech about “vision” and “loyalty” before announcing the Employee of the Year. “This person represents the very heart of this branch,” Howard boomed. “A leader who gives everything to the team. Please join me in congratulating Linda Vickers!” The room erupted. Linda floated to the stage, her face a mask of practiced humility. She took the trophy, her eyes gleaming. Howard added that she was a “model for the entire organization.” Linda stepped to the mic. She thanked Howard, thanked the “family,” and then her gaze found me in the back of the room. A cruel, triumphant light sparked in her eyes. “But we all know,” she said, her voice amplified and sharp, “that a team is only as strong as its weakest link. There are some people who are just dead weight—people who refuse to sacrifice, who think they’re above the grind. Those people don’t belong here.” The room chuckled. Heads turned. A hundred pairs of eyes landed on me, filled with pity, mockery, and cold indifference. I didn’t look down. I didn’t flush. I stood up, smoothed my jacket, and started walking toward the stage. My footsteps were the only sound in the suddenly quiet room. Linda’s smirk faltered for a second as I approached, but she held her ground, thinking I was coming up to beg for a second chance. I didn’t look at her. I walked straight to the center of the stage.

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The year I turned twenty, I sold my body to my greatest enemy. I crawled into his bed and let him ruin me, all for the sake of a plea—that he’d show mercy and let my mother go. But mercy never came. My mother died anyway, crushed in a horrific multi-car pileup. By the time they pulled her from the wreckage, half of her head was gone. I remember storming into the boardroom, my body still aching and torn from him, screaming with a hysteria that rattled the glass walls. “Silas, I gave you everything you wanted! Why did you still kill her?” His response was a backhand so violent it sent me spinning to the floor. Silas didn’t even blink. He looked down at me, his eyes two chips of frozen Atlantic ice. “When my mother jumped from that balcony right in front of me, I wanted to ask ‘why,’ too,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Why was your mother such a pathetic whore? Why did she have to seduce my father? Why did she have to drive my mother to her death?” He leaned down, his shadow swallowing me whole. “June, the debt is only beginning to be paid. If you’re crying now, you’re far too early.” He forced me into a marriage license using the ninety-nine private photos he’d taken of me that first night as blackmail. Then, he turned around and made sure the entire city of Chicago watched as he dropped millions to woo his socialite childhood sweetheart. He forced me to hand-fold nine hundred and ninety-nine paper roses for her, until my fingertips were raw and bleeding. He forced me to deliver a box of condoms to their hotel in the middle of a torrential rainstorm, a night that left me with a fever so high it turned into a week-long stint in the ICU with pneumonia. Silas wanted me to watch him love someone else. He wanted me to witness the way he cherished her, pampered her, and adored her, until the sheer weight of the contrast made me want to claw my own heart out. What he didn’t know was that after six years of this mutual destruction, I was actually dying. And of those ninety-nine photos, only three remained. … I had been unconscious in the hospital for seven days after my last round of chemotherapy failed. I didn’t expect to find Silas waiting outside my cramped apartment the moment I was discharged. He didn’t greet me. He just grabbed me, slamming me against the door with a rage that vibrated through his grip. “June, Madeline asked you for those things. Why haven’t you given them to her?” he hissed. “Don’t think for a second I won’t leak those photos.” The photos. Those hazy, intimate, shameful captures of a night that should have never happened. If he leaked them, the world would see exactly what he called me: a whore. The familiar jolt of panic finally cleared the fog in my brain. I lifted my head with great effort, my voice a raspy whisper. “I’ll give them to her. What does she want?” I vaguely recalled Silas sending me a series of voice notes before I started chemo. But back then, every ounce of my soul had been focused on begging God for a chance to live. I hadn’t had the strength to listen to his demands. I pulled out my phone. The chat history was a graveyard of missed connections—hundreds of voice notes. I tapped one. The high-pitched, pampered lilt of Madeline filled the air, Silas’s voice murmuring in a low, soothing tone in the background. “Silas, why did you ever write her love letters? Why did you make her a custom snow globe? I want them. They’re mine now. Tell her to give them back!” She wanted the relics of our past. The matching sets—the gloves, the mugs, the pens. Back when Silas loved me most, everything had to be a pair. His and hers. Those memories felt like they belonged to a different century, a different girl. My eyes began to sting, but Silas caught my jaw in a bruising grip, forcing me to meet his mocking gaze. “What’s the matter, June? Can’t let go?” The last time I’d hesitated—when I refused to give Madeline my mother’s heirloom jade bracelet—Silas had arranged for my mother’s grave to be desecrated. If I hadn’t made it there in time, I wouldn’t even have been able to save her urn. I shook my head violently. “No! No, I’ll get them. I’ll give them to you right now.” I leaned against the doorframe, my legs shaking, and fumbled with the lock. Once inside, I began to scavenge through my life for his scraps. The voice notes continued to play in the background, a soundtrack to my humiliation. “Have those things at my office by 6 AM tomorrow.” “Where the hell are you?” “June, you’ve got balls ignoring me for this many days. Get out here!” Then, the final one: “Madeline and I are getting engaged tomorrow. If you don’t show up, you know the consequences.” Engaged? My heart skipped a beat, stuttering in my chest. The glass snow globe I was holding slipped through my numb fingers and shattered on the floor, rolling to a stop at Silas’s feet. He leaned over and picked it up, eyeing my ghostly pallor. “What? Did you think that because we have a piece of paper, I was still holding a candle for you? After six years?” He flipped the snow globe over. On the base, “S & J” was engraved in a youthful, hopeful script. He let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “You don’t deserve to have your name next to mine.” He grabbed an X-Acto knife from my desk and brutally gouged the letters out. The plastic shavings fell on me like grey snow. I bit my lip until I tasted copper. He was right. I didn’t deserve it. Everyone knew Silas hated me. To the world, our six-year marriage was a joke, and I was just a social climber who had trapped a king. No one knew I had been ready to sign the divorce papers years ago. I had even tried to end it all once—tried to leave this world entirely. But Silas had thrown those ninety-nine photos in my face. “You want to die, June? Go ahead,” he’d sneered. “And the second your heart stops, I’ll hit ‘send.’ I’ll let the world know the daughter is just like the mother. I’ll make sure your mother’s name is synonymous with ‘trash’ for eternity.” So I stayed. For my mother’s dignity, what little was left of it. For six years, we had a system: for every act of penance, for every time I let him degrade me, he deleted one photo. Now, there were only three left. He was getting married to the woman he actually loved. It was almost over. I packed the items into a bag with trembling hands and looked at him, my voice devoid of emotion. “What else do you want from me? To delete the last three?” Silas stared at me, then his gaze drifted to the framed photo of my mother on the wall. His expression curdled into something dark and ugly. A cold dread pooled in my stomach. I turned to run, but he caught my ankle and hauled me back onto the sofa. “Silas, stop! You’re crazy! My mother is right there!” I thrashed, pointing at the photo. He was brutal, his movements stripped of any lingering tenderness. “The daughter of a woman who crawled into her best friend’s husband’s bed doesn’t get to talk about dignity,” he spat. I stopped fighting. Suddenly, I was eighteen again. The day Silas told me he loved me. We were so happy, so young. And then we walked through the front door and saw my mother and his father together. I saw Silas’s mother on the balcony, her face a mask of white marble before she stepped into the air. Silas had screamed then—a sound of pure, jagged despair. The same sound he was making now with his body, trying to break me. I pulled a throw pillow over my face to blot out the world. “Fine, Silas. Do it. But it costs you two photos.” He stayed all night. When I tried to look away, he forced my head toward the wall. I strained my neck, watching the ceiling light flicker and sway. Across the room, the incense smoke curled in front of my mother’s picture, obscuring her face. I imagined she was smiling sadly at me. Years ago, I asked her why. Why Silas’s mother? If she hadn’t taken us in when we were homeless, we would have died in the snow. My mother had cried, telling me that Silas’s mother was dying of a hidden illness, and she was terrified we’d be thrown out on the street again. She did it out of survival. But after the suicide, Silas’s father had a heart attack and died. Creditors swarmed. Silas’s legs were broken by thugs who took the company. They made him crawl; they called him garbage. My mother realized her sin too late. She worked three jobs, sold her blood, sold a kidney, just to put Silas through school. I dropped out of college to wait tables and entertain clients, drinking myself sick so he wouldn’t have to. But Silas would just rub his legs—the ones that still ached on rainy nights—and look at me with bloodshot eyes. “My family is gone because of you. You think a few years of playing saint makes us even? You’re dreaming.” Once he took back his empire, he crushed everyone who had ever touched him. I was the only one left to bleed. I had tried to hate him back, but after my mother died, I investigated the accident. It really was just a car crash. I couldn’t even blame him for her death. Loving him was just too exhausting. By dawn, it was over. I was cold, aching in places I didn’t know could hurt, curled into a ball on the sofa. I drifted into a dream of that first snowy night his family took us in. He had cupped my face and told me not to cry. His hands were so warm. I woke up. The warmth was gone. Only the cold, drying tracks of tears remained. Silas was standing over me, his silhouette lost in the shadows. I reached out and grabbed his sleeve, my voice a ghost. “Two photos. Delete them.” He didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away. “Silas! Delete them! Do you hear me?” I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. I hit the floor face-first. Blood erupted from my nose. I wiped at it frantically, my vision blurring. “Delete them!” “You’re so desperate to protect that bitch’s memory?” his cold voice drifted back to me. “Fine. You want the last ones gone? Come to my engagement party tonight. Work as a server. Do that, and I’ll wipe the slate clean.” The word “cruel” echoed in my mind. Today would have been our tenth anniversary—from the day we first became “us.” But my body was running out of time. “Okay,” I whispered. When I arrived at the ballroom, Silas’s secretary shoved a uniform at me. When I stepped out, Silas was waiting. He stared at my face with a strange, unreadable expression. The fall had left a massive purple bruise across my cheek. I’d tried to cover it with powder, but the greyish-white over my sickly skin made me look like a corpse. I’d added blush in a panic, and now I looked like a Victorian ghost. I didn’t know what to do, so I just smiled. He tossed a piece of cake onto a tray. “You look like a freak. Eat that. I don’t need you fainting and making a scene.” The smell of the sugar made my stomach turn. I wanted to vomit, but he stood there, watching me until I forced every bite down. Only then did he leave. I drifted through the crowd, the room spinning. I needed to get to the bathroom. “June? I thought you’d have more pride than this.” It was Madeline. She swirled her champagne, leaning in close to my ear. “Silas still loves me. I’m the one who hired the guys to break his legs back then, and he’s still marrying me. You were the one who stayed by his side, and he wants you dead.” I froze. I had always thought Silas hated the people who ruined him. But when he took over, he brought Madeline back into the fold immediately. When I asked him why, he told me it was because Madeline was “smart.” She had betrayed her own father to help Silas at the very end. I was the one who wasn’t “smart.” The stomach acid was rising. I couldn’t breathe. “Move,” I managed. Madeline smirked, blocking my path with her voluminous skirt. “Don’t go yet. Look at my dress.” I lost it. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I vomited, the liquid splashing right across the pristine white silk of her designer gown. “Oh god,” I gasped, reaching out to wipe it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” My vision tunneled. I grabbed for the nearest table to steady myself, but I only succeeded in dragging the tablecloth down with me. Glass shattered everywhere. A heavy hand grabbed my collar and yanked me back. “June! What did I tell you?” Silas roared. I tried to explain, but I just retched again. He looked at me with pure loathing, then turned to the sobbing Madeline. I looked at her dress again. I recognized the pattern. It was a sketch Silas had made for me when we were eighteen. He had told me then that he’d have a snowflake embroidered on the lapel of his suit to match me. I looked at his chest. There was the snowflake. Now covered in my filth. I reached out with trembling hands to clean it, but he shoved me away. “Your pathetic act isn’t working. You did this on purpose.” He pointed to the floor. “Clean it up. Use your hands.” I fell to my knees, the broken glass slicing into my palms. Silas led a crying Madeline away, and the guests followed, their faces twisted in disgust. The wedding march began to play in the distance. Or maybe it was close. I couldn’t tell. I don’t know how long I was on the floor. Eventually, a pair of polished shoes appeared in my field of vision. A toe lifted my chin. “June, do you regret it yet?” I looked up blindly. Regret what? Regret not abandoning my mother? Silas, that woman you hate so much… she raised me. She saved me from the man who tried to hurt me when I was a child. She gave me her last crust of bread when we were starving. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t answer. I was too tired. Suddenly, Madeline’s voice rang out from the other side of the room. “Is it true, Silas? The demolition for that slum redevelopment has started today?” My heart stopped. “Which slum?” I croaked. “Silas! Which neighborhood!” By the time I hailed a cab and got back, half the block was rubble. My mother’s ashes were in that apartment. The roar of the excavators was deafening. I ran toward the machines, trying to scream, trying to grab a foreman’s radio. Someone shoved me down. Blood and tears smeared across my face as I scrambled back up. “Stop! You can’t! I still live here! I haven’t moved my things!” A pair of leather shoes appeared. I looked up. It was Silas. He was supposed to be at his engagement party, but he was here, watching the destruction. I grabbed his pant leg. “Silas, please! You know my mother is in there. Please, just ten minutes. Let me go in and get her.” But his eyes were dead. I went still. The realization hit me like a physical blow. “You… you did this on purpose?” A project this big… he must have paid off the landlord not to notify me. He’d kept me in the hospital for seven days, then dragged me to the party today just to ensure I wasn’t here. He wanted to erase the last trace of her. “Why?” I whispered. Silas closed his eyes, his voice tight. “Today is also my mother’s anniversary, June. Do you know what your mother said to mine ten years ago? She said, ‘You’re dying anyway. He’s going to remarry. Why not me? I’m just getting a head start.’” “She was her best friend for thirty years. And she killed her. So why should I give your mother any dignity in death?” At that exact moment, a thunderous crash shook the ground. The three-story building collapsed into a heap of dust. Through the haze, I saw it. The framed photo of my mother, smashed under a concrete slab. The ceramic urn, shattered into a thousand pieces. Her ashes—the last physical remains of the woman who loved me—were scattered into the Chicago wind, mixing with the dirt. I didn’t want to cry. I had no tears left. But they came anyway. “But Silas… I thought I was paying for her sins?” I whispered. “We had a deal. Ninety-nine photos. Ninety-nine acts of penance. I gave you six years. Six years of hell. Wasn’t that enough?” I saw a flash of something like panic in his eyes. “Not enough,” he barked, his voice trembling. I snapped. I lunged at him, screaming. “It’s enough! It’s enough! I slept with you, I watched you marry her, I bled for you! Give me the phone! Delete the photos! I’m taking my mother and I’m leaving!” A sharp slap sent my head spinning. Silas looked like a stranger. His knuckles were white. He laughed, a jagged, broken sound. “You want to leave me that badly, June?” He shoved his phone in front of my face. There they were. All ninety-nine. Every shameful, private moment I had sacrificed my soul to delete. They were all back. “What is this? Why are they back?” His eyes were full of a manic, desperate kind of hate. “I’m giving you one last chance. Behave. We’ll replace the bride today. It’ll be you. We’ll spend the rest of our lives together.” “Or, you can keep paying the debt.” The images flickered on the screen—a slideshow of my humiliation reflecting in my wide, dead eyes. I started to laugh. I was a joke. The last six years were a punchline. “I don’t want either,” I said. Warm blood began to drip onto my wrist, splashing onto Silas’s white collar. He looked down, his face suddenly contorting into a mask of pure horror. But I couldn’t hear him anymore. The world was tilting. “Silas,” I whispered as I hit the ground. “I don’t want you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391778”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I died, I discovered that my husband, Arthur Sterling, could still see me. He wept tears of joy, saying that we could be together forever. But later, he started coming home less and less. Then, I saw the young woman following him—she looked exactly like I used to. One day, that young woman suddenly fell ill with a strange, incurable disease. A spiritual master claimed that a malevolent spirit was harming her. And Arthur… turned his head and looked directly at me, while I floated there in absolute shock. 1 I still hadn’t fully processed what was happening. I shook my head at him frantically. The others couldn’t hear me or see me. “Arthur, it’s not me! You know me better than anyone!” At the same time, Chloe Sinclair, lying in bed, began to whimper softly. “Mr. Sterling, it hurts so much…” Arthur didn’t say a word. He just stared intensely at me floating in mid-air. His eyes were filled with suspicion and resentment. I remembered what the master had just said: “This young lady is likely being haunted by a malevolent spirit.” Chloe looked terrified, crying and shrinking into Arthur’s embrace. “Mr. Sterling, I’ve never done anything wrong in my entire life! Why would a dark spirit want to hurt me?” Arthur comforted her, “Chloe, this isn’t your fault.” I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But now I did. He meant it was my fault—the “malevolent spirit’s” fault. Chloe asked the master, “Master, is there any way to suppress this spirit?” The master pulled out several talisman papers and a wooden sword. Chloe took the wooden sword, waving it around fearfully. Whether intentional or not, the tip of the sword pointed directly at me. In that split second, I felt an agonizing, tearing pain rip through my soul. I couldn’t dodge. I was paralyzed in mid-air. Even without a physical body, the agony was so intense I felt like I would dissipate into nothingness at any moment. And Arthur just watched me, completely indifferent. Chloe dropped the wooden sword, picked up the talismans, and looked at Arthur. “Mr. Sterling, could you please help me stick these talismans around the room?” I watched Arthur walk over and take the talismans from her. Then he smiled and gently patted Chloe’s head. “Of course.” Once the talismans were placed in all four corners of the room, my already weakened soul was violently blasted out of the house. This was our marital home. The home Arthur and I had shared for seven years. I stumbled upright, trying to walk back through the front door, but it was useless. The lingering pain from the wooden sword throbbed through me. After failing repeatedly, I collapsed and curled into a ball in the corner. The front door opened. I scrambled up, overjoyed. “Arthur…” Arthur looked at me, his expression incredibly complex. “Mia, don’t ever come inside again.” “Maybe you didn’t do it on purpose.” “But her health is incredibly fragile. Stop harming her.” I didn’t know what to say. It’s hard to describe how those words made me feel. The man standing in front of me felt nothing like the Arthur who had promised to love me forever. A year ago, when I died, he cried so agonizingly. Why had everything changed? “But this is my home! Our home! Why can’t I go inside?” “Because you’re dead!” “Because you’re a wandering spirit now! You don’t have to worry about anything, but she can’t handle it! Your presence is making her sick!” “Mia Harrison, you were never this unreasonable when you were alive.” As Arthur turned to go back inside, I could only murmur one sentence. “I didn’t harm her.” He paused for a second, then shut the door firmly. I wasn’t entirely fearless either. I don’t know if he noticed, but my soul had become slightly more transparent. 2 I used to watch horror movies where people died, became ghosts, and suddenly had all these incredible, terrifying powers. They weren’t afraid of anything. They could scare people to death. But after my own accidental death, I realized I wasn’t one of them. I had absolutely no powers. Except for Arthur, I couldn’t make anyone else see me. In the very beginning, I felt like I could dissipate at any given moment. Because my body would randomly fade into transparency. Whenever Arthur noticed and cried, begging me not to leave him, the fading would stop, and I would solidify again. But today, he probably didn’t notice. I huddled in the corner, laughing bitterly. I wasn’t the only wandering spirit in this area; there were plenty of other strange, dark things lurking around. Right now, I couldn’t even maintain a solid form. I had no idea how I was going to survive the night. When did things between Arthur and me get this bad? Probably starting shortly before he began staying out all night. Before, I could follow him anywhere. But that night, I suddenly found an invisible barrier blocking me. Maybe it was because right before he left, he had said, “Don’t follow me today.” I remembered his friends tricking him into going to the psychiatric ward at the hospital that day. His friends thought my death had caused a psychotic break, because he was constantly talking to thin air. Later, paparazzi caught him—Arthur Sterling, CEO of Sterling Group—leaving the psychiatric ward. The rumor was that he had developed severe schizophrenia. It caused a massive scandal. For days, Arthur felt like everyone was secretly laughing at him. I still remember his absolute devastation when I died, and his hysterical joy when he first realized he could see me. He was practically out of his mind with happiness. He said the heavens were so moved by our love that they granted us this miracle so we could stay together forever. Looking back now, that “heaven-moving” love had clearly become a burden to him. He didn’t want the world to view him as a mentally ill freak anymore. So he aggressively minimized the amount of time we spent together outside, and eventually, our conversations dwindled to almost nothing. Soon after, he brought Chloe home. I had no idea who she was. All I knew was that she sweetly called him “Mr. Sterling,” and they could interact openly and normally. And I couldn’t. Long before she fell ill, it had been ages since Arthur and I had a real conversation. “Well, well, isn’t it the little canary from the big mansion?” “What, got kicked out?” “I told you a long time ago, the living and the dead don’t mix. Why don’t you come play with me—” There weren’t many wandering spirits in this area, but the few that existed were incredibly vicious. I had personally witnessed one of them tear another spirit into literal shreds. I stood up in terror and screamed for Arthur. “Arthur! I’m so scared…” A pale, rotting hand reached out to grab me. “Aren’t your man and his new toy madly in love right now? I saw them making out in his car just the other day. Tsk, the guy has no balls, having to act all proper as soon as he steps out of the car.” “You’re already dead. Why are you still bothering him? Let him find his true love!” I refused to believe it. I only knew that Arthur had sworn he would never, ever betray me. But the harder I pounded on the door, the louder the romantic music inside played. They were dancing to the music, and Chloe was laughing brightly in his arms. Maybe he would post about it on social media. Maybe his friends would congratulate him on finally moving on from the grief of losing his wife. Then he would become a normal person again, instead of a lunatic haunted by the stubborn ghost of his dead wife. 3 When the sun came up, those dark things would vanish. I wasn’t afraid of the sunlight. But I was so incredibly weak I could barely move an inch. They loved to tear spirits apart for fun. But I was different from the other wandering spirits. Every time I was torn apart, I miraculously reformed. They found it fascinating. In the past, I spent every night in Arthur’s bed. They couldn’t get in there. From now on, I probably wouldn’t have that protection. I felt incredibly lost. I had no idea how I was going to survive every single night from now on. The front door suddenly opened, and Arthur rushed out, carrying Chloe in his arms. I huddled in the corner, watching him silently. My body felt a little more transparent. “Hurry! To the hospital!” He didn’t acknowledge my gaze, only shooting me a deep, resentful frown as he loaded Chloe into the car. That single look was loaded with emotion. Mostly blame. But I didn’t even understand what I had done wrong. I just wanted him to stay with me, to ask me if I was hurting. But maybe that was never going to happen again. When Arthur returned from the hospital, I was still huddled in the corner. “Mia. We need to talk.” My voice was hoarse as I offered a faint, bitter laugh. “Are we talking out here?” He clearly had no intention of letting me back inside. “Let’s just talk here. If you go inside, she might get sick again when she gets back.” “There are some things we need to make perfectly clear right now.” Before he could start his speech, I cut him off. “I never harmed her.” Arthur instantly exploded in absolute fury. He stepped forward and threw a punch straight through my ethereal body, his fist slamming into the brick wall behind me. “Then tell me why, ever since she moved in here, she’s been constantly suffering from bizarre, unexplainable illnesses?!” “Don’t tell me it’s all just a coincidence! Mia, I am not a fucking idiot!” His eyes were bloodshot, his emotions completely volatile. “You know perfectly well that everyone thinks I’m insane. She risked her entire reputation just to help me!” “She’s the only one who actually believes I can see you!” I shot upright in shock. “You told her you can see me?!” Arthur clearly didn’t think that was the main issue. “If she wasn’t willing to believe me and stand by my side, my personal reputation and my company’s stock would have plummeted! Do you understand that?!” “Everyone would think I’m a completely deranged lunatic!” I stared at him calmly, feeling a mix of helpless panic and deep resignation. “Arthur… you fell in love with her, didn’t you?” I just laid the brutal truth out in the open. But it only made him more hysterical. “Why is your mind always so filthy and paranoid?!” “I promised I would never betray you, and that hasn’t changed! Is your paranoid jealousy the only reason you’re trying to hurt her?!” I was too exhausted to even repeat myself. “So, what do you want me to do?” He let out a heavy, ragged breath. “Leave for a while. Stay away from me for now.” I asked him, “If I leave, and she still gets sick, proving it wasn’t me… will you let me come back?” He fell silent. He didn’t say a single word. I think I already knew the answer. 4 If I was going to leave, I had to do it now. If I waited until nightfall when those things came out again, I might never be able to leave. I knew perfectly well that once Arthur made a decision, begging him was completely useless. And I wasn’t going to beg. I broke eye contact and struggled to stand up, preparing to walk away. “You’re leaving just like that?!” “You were probably already sick of this too, right? I just gave you the perfect excuse.” My clean break seemed to infuriate him even more. I didn’t want to say anything else. My soul felt incredibly heavy, and every step was agonizingly difficult, but I refused to linger for even a second longer. I heard footsteps rushing up behind me. But then they abruptly stopped. Followed immediately by a violent fit of coughing. “Mr. Sterling? What’s wrong?” “We need to take you to the hospital to see Ms. Sinclair anyway. Why don’t you get a checkup while we’re there?” “Could it be… that dark spirit wasn’t satisfied with hurting Ms. Sinclair, and now it’s trying to hurt you too?” At this point, I had absolutely no desire to defend myself. It was entirely pointless. I didn’t care what else Arthur had to say. If he wanted to believe those lies, explaining myself a million times wouldn’t change a thing. After leaving the villa district, I wandered aimlessly. Being a wandering spirit was a new experience. I didn’t know why I ended up like this. I was dead, but I couldn’t move on to the afterlife. Before Arthur explicitly told me to leave, I physically couldn’t move far from him. Was it really because, like he said, his love had moved the heavens, binding me to him? Thinking about my current state, that theory was hilariously tragic. Where was I supposed to go now? I didn’t know. All I knew was that my body was becoming increasingly transparent. It actually hadn’t been that long since I died. But I had already forgotten so many things. Suddenly, I lost consciousness entirely. When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a temple. Even though I had no specific memory of it, being there triggered an overwhelming, inexplicable sense of familiarity. There was no one else in the temple. Just me, and a single oil lamp. The wick was burning weakly; the flame was incredibly dim. But when the wind blew, the tiny flame didn’t even flicker. Memories suddenly flooded my mind, crashing over me like a tidal wave. “I ask for nothing else. I only pray that my wife survives this, recovers quickly, and returns to me.” “If possible, I want to live with her, and die with her.” “I refuse to live in this world without her.” A man had climbed the massive stone staircase to the peak, performing a full prostration—kneeling and touching his forehead to the ground—on every single step. When he finally stood up, his forehead was bruised, swollen, and bleeding. I remembered now. That was probably the year Arthur loved me the most. He was giving a speech on stage at his company’s annual gala when a massive chandelier above him suddenly broke loose. No one noticed. I sprinted forward and shoved him out of the way, taking the full impact myself and falling into a deep coma. While I was comatose, I occasionally drifted into semi-consciousness, hearing Arthur’s desperate murmurs. He said that if I didn’t pull through, he was fully prepared to die with me. In my subconscious dreams, I learned that Arthur’s profound devotion had manifested a silent “Eternal Flame” in this temple. The wick was forged from our intertwined souls. If one soul disappeared from the other’s side, the other would die. I remember thinking: I can’t let him die. My sheer will to live dragged me out of the coma. Back then, I thought an Eternal Flame like this was an incredibly beautiful thing. As long as we loved each other, nothing could ever separate us. Standing here today, floating as a spirit, I learned another secret. The reason I remained on earth wasn’t because Arthur’s love moved the heavens. It was because, shortly after I died, I begged the Judge of the Underworld to let me go back. 5 Because if my soul vanished from his side, he would die. I traded my reincarnation, binding myself to an eternal clerical position in the Underworld, just to return to his side. My original plan was to stay with him until the natural end of his life. The Judge told me he didn’t believe in absolute, unwavering love. He said if I could bring the Eternal Flame back to the Underworld completely intact after Arthur passed away from old age, proving him wrong, he would grant me a cushy position guarding the Bridge of Forgetfulness. Time flows much faster in the Underworld, so I would frequently be able to see Arthur’s soul passing through the reincarnation cycle. But if the Eternal Flame extinguished, Arthur would die, but he would still enter the reincarnation cycle. I, however, having lingered in the mortal realm for too long, would face complete soul annihilation. At the time, I thought the Judge was just being hopelessly cynical. Looking back now, I was the one who was hopelessly delusional. I died, so my memories faded. But what about Arthur? The flame of this Eternal Lamp was already incredibly dim. My soul had become almost entirely transparent. This proved that our love was practically non-existent. The Judge’s voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere. “You can make your choice now.” “Take this dying Eternal Flame back to the Underworld with you, or stay and work in the Underworld, though your soul will be permanently damaged and frequently weak.” “As for him, he will die in an accident shortly after you leave.” “If this Eternal Flame extinguishes while you’re still in the mortal realm, he will just suffer a tragic end in this life, but your soul will be instantly annihilated.” I glanced down at the wedding ring on my transparent finger. Strange. It was still there. I thought about all the beautiful moments Arthur and I had shared. I never doubted the love he once had for me. That love gave me the courage to sacrifice everything. But this time— “My Lord, I will go back with you.” “Before I go, may I return to say a final goodbye to him?” The Judge’s voice didn’t respond for a long time. “I strongly advise against returning.” “A man whose heart has changed is no different from a rabid beast. He operates with zero logic or reason.” “Fine. If you insist on saying goodbye, go. I will process your employment intake paperwork. When it’s time, I’ll send a Reaper to guide you back.” The voice faded. I floated in the temple, feeling a dull, hollow ache where my heart used to be. The girls who chose to drink the Forgetfulness Soup and reincarnate were right. Never, ever believe that someone’s love for you will never change. No one can promise that. I was just a fool. I drifted slowly back toward the city. The closer I got to the villa district, the more chaotic my thoughts became. Suddenly, an invisible, ethereal net slammed down, binding me completely. “I caught the dark spirit!” “Mr. Sterling, this is the entity that caused you to violently cough up blood! It’s a vicious, malevolent spirit! It’s specifically attached to you, intent on harming you. Once it drains enough of your life force, it will become unstoppable!” Something within the net paralyzed me, making it impossible to move a single muscle. “Arthur… I just came to…” I looked up at Arthur and met a gaze so incredibly, terrifyingly cold it froze my soul. “Mia. I never, in my wildest nightmares, imagined you would exploit my love for you to harm me like this.”

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