Category: English

1 Three years after I broke up with Ethan, I returned to Riverton only to become the town’s laughingstock. They all said I was a fool who couldn’t see the diamond right in front of me, who willingly threw away the prize of a lifetime. Some even whispered that I was back to win Ethan over, hoping to use him to pull the Vance family back from the brink of ruin. The rumors swirled, growing more vicious by the day, but I paid them no mind. Then, I ran into Ethan’s protégé, Zoe, at a restaurant—the same woman who had wedged herself between us three years ago. As Zoe’s taunts washed over me, my gaze drifted past her to Ethan, who stood silently by the entrance. I decided then and there to shatter his cool composure. “Ethan,” I said, my voice clear and steady, “when have you ever known me to turn back?” … My words hung in the air, plunging the bustling restaurant into a sudden, dead silence. The other patrons, who had been eagerly watching the drama unfold, now held their breath, their eyes fixed on Ethan’s darkening expression. No one dared to make a sound. Zoe turned, and upon seeing Ethan, she flitted to his side like a hummingbird drawn to a flower. “Good that you know your place,” she chirped, her voice dripping with scorn. “You’re not nearly good enough for him now.” … She spoke with the unshakeable confidence of someone who had always been cherished by him, each word a carefully crafted jab meant to belittle me. Ethan’s eyes flickered at her words. His dark, intense gaze was like a vortex, threatening to pull me in and swallow me whole. He said nothing, simply allowing Zoe to continue her thinly veiled insults. It was a scene chillingly familiar, a perfect echo of the past three years. Ever since Zoe entered our lives, it had always been the two of them, standing together, against me. “Eleanor.” My best friend, Claire, returned to my side, her presence a solid anchor. She glanced at Zoe, who was now clinging possessively to Ethan’s arm. “Well, well,” Claire scoffed. “Look at them. The bastard and the bitch, finally a pair.” Her words sliced through the tense air, and the atmosphere crackled with hostility. “You…” Zoe’s cheeks flushed with rage. “Ethan, did you hear what she just—” she whined, tugging at his sleeve. Claire leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Disgusting.” I couldn’t help it; a small laugh escaped my lips. Ethan’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes narrowing. “Eleanor, control your friend.” His cold, commanding tone was a blade that sent me hurtling back three years into the past. Seeing him today had resurrected all the ghosts I thought I’d left behind. I took Claire’s hand and stepped slightly in front of her, facing him directly. “Ethan, you control your woman,” I retorted, my voice as sharp as his. “Don’t let her out in public if all she’s going to do is bite.” Then, I turned my head, my eyes locking with Zoe’s. “The bone you’re fighting so desperately for is one I’ve already thrown away,” I said, my voice low and cutting. “Where I stand, he’s the one who isn’t good enough for me.” With that, I took Claire’s hand and walked toward the door. As I passed Ethan, I saw the tight, white-knuckled fist clenched at his side. It turns out, words that cut deep are surprisingly simple to say. But I wasn’t just trying to hurt him. It was the truth. From the moment he started taking Zoe’s side, again and again, he had ceased to be worthy of me in my heart. The man I love can be poor, he can be unsuccessful. But he must, without question, be in my corner, always. He cannot stand with another woman, using cold logic to tell me I’m wrong. 2 “Damn, Eleanor! It’s like you went away and got a Ph.D. in clapbacks.” Claire was still buzzing with excitement on the drive home. After all, three years ago, Zoe’s taunts would often leave me speechless and fuming. This time, I was the one who left them both pale with rage. I offered a small smile, feeling myself retreat into the quiet, reserved person I used to be. Claire reached over and gently pinched my cheek. “There she is. My sweet little lamb.” Honestly, everything I’d said back there was fueled by a surge of protective anger. I didn’t care what they said about me, but Claire had stood up for me. I couldn’t let them tear her down. I didn’t need to explain that to her, though. “I guess being cooped up in the hospital for so long left me with a lot of pent-up frustration,” I said quietly. “It all just came out.” Hearing this, Claire waited for a red light, then reached over and patted my head gently. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice soft. “You finally made it back from the gates of hell.” Her words struck a chord deep inside me, and suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. In this entire world, Claire was the only one who knew I had been sick. But three years ago, the moment the doctor handed me that diagnosis, the only person I wanted to find was Ethan. I searched for him all day. I called. I texted. I contacted his friends, his colleagues. No one knew where he was. They only knew he’d driven off somewhere with Zoe. He was unreachable. Only Claire, sensing the panic in my voice over the phone, had rushed to my side. She was the one who took me back to the hospital, who spoke with the doctors, who found out about a specialized research program overseas. By the time night fell, we were both emotionally and physically drained. And that’s when Ethan finally showed up. He saw the two of us, his expression unreadable. “Eleanor, you were looking for me? My phone died today.” Claire, incensed, lunged forward to confront him, but I held her back. “Claire, I need to talk to him alone.” Though she was still furious, she respected my wish and left. The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. Ethan stood before me. After a long moment, he came and sat beside me on the couch. The cushion sank under his weight as he pulled me into his arms. “There was an issue with some experimental data at the company today,” he began, his voice a low murmur against my hair. “It was Zoe’s section, so I went back to the lab with her to sort it out. My phone was off, I didn’t see your messages. Eleanor, don’t be angry. I’ll be more careful from now on.” His words were a dam breaking inside me, and tears flooded my eyes. I fought them back, refusing to let them fall. The scent clinging to him had changed. It was no longer his familiar cologne, but something else… laced with a cloyingly sweet fragrance, the kind a younger girl would wear. It was faint, but it made my stomach churn. But I couldn’t bear to let go. Not yet. So I said, “Ethan, Zoe has feelings for you. Can you please fire her?” He pulled away, his hands falling from my shoulders. He studied my face, and when his gaze met my tear-filled eyes, I saw his fingertips tremble. A long silence stretched between us before he finally spoke, his voice frustratingly rational. “If I fire her, she might not be able to graduate. Besides, what you’re saying… it’s just your assumption. Eleanor, I can’t ruin her life based on a suspicion.” … He kept talking, his logical explanations filling the air, but all I could hear was a dull roar as my world turned to gray. “Fine,” I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion, cutting through his monologue. “Then let’s break up.” My words stopped him cold. He left in a storm of anger, slamming the door behind him. But just before he disappeared, he shot back a furious question. “Eleanor, what’s wrong with you? When did you become like this?” He stormed out so quickly, he never heard my whispered reply. “Ethan, I’m sick.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I curled into a ball on the couch, my body trembling as silent tears finally soaked into the pillow. In this world, nothing is less reliable than the human heart. So I refused to gamble on it, refused to bet on his loyalty. I just wanted a definitive answer. And really, all I wanted was to get rid of the woman circling my partner before I left the country for treatment. What was so wrong with that? 3 I never contacted Ethan again after that day. I moved out of the villa we shared, leaving behind every gift he had ever given me. I took only what was mine. The day before I was due to fly out, Claire asked me, “Are you really not going to tell him?” My hands, busy packing, paused for a moment. I shook my head. “There’s no point.” After she left, I sat motionless for a long time. My fingers, acting of their own accord, found my phone and opened my chat with Ethan. The screen was filled with the messages I had sent that day: [Ethan, where are you?] [Ethan, why aren’t you picking up?] [Ethan…] … Countless messages, all met with a single, hollow explanation. And that final, damning question: “When did you become like this?” The memory was a physical blow, and I doubled over, clutching my chest. Just then, my phone rang. It was Ethan. “Eleanor…” Before he could say more, Zoe’s voice cut through from his end. “Ethan, you’ve had way too much to drink.” The words I had been about to say died in my throat. I just listened, silent, to the rustle of fabric and Zoe’s concerned murmurs as she fussed over him. The call ended. I stared at the chat screen. At the top, the “typing…” bubble appeared, then vanished. Appeared, then vanished again. Finally, it disappeared for good, leaving nothing behind. In the dead of night, in those few short hours, I replayed the entire fifteen years of our history together. From my parents’ funeral, where he stood by my side greeting mourners, to his parents’ funeral, where I stood by his. In the eyes of everyone who knew us, we were already life partners, inseparable. But everything changed the moment he started arguing with me over Zoe. I had told him more than once that she was in love with him. He always dismissed it as my imagination, my paranoia. Perhaps she was just that good at hiding it in front of him. But I had seen it. I had seen the look in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t watching. It was a look of intense, burning adoration. [Ethan, I’m leaving the country.] [Don’t call me anymore.] [We’re over.] After sending the messages, I blocked him everywhere. On every platform. It was decisive, absolute, leaving no room for doubt. I was afraid. Afraid that if I left even the smallest crack open, my weak heart would betray me, and I would find myself unable to let him go. I knew, with absolute clarity, that I still loved him. But I was so, so tired. Tired of the endless fights over Zoe. Tired of watching him stand on her side, criticizing me, refuting my feelings. He said I had changed. But what woman could tolerate a rival hovering around the man she loved? When I needed him most, he was with her. When I found out from his own company that he had left with Zoe that day, I thought I was going to lose my mind. If Claire hadn’t been there to catch me, I would have collapsed right then and there. The memories replayed all the way home, a past that needed to be left behind. When I arrived, Claire asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you for your check-up tomorrow?” I shook my head. “It’s just to get my file set up. Nothing major. If there’s a real problem, I’ll have to go back overseas for treatment anyway.” I knew she had just taken on a huge new project and was incredibly busy. She was my best friend, but she had her own life to live. Claire sighed. “Okay. But you have to promise to call me if anything happens.” After she left, I stood by the door for a long time. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone in the world anymore. I might have lost love, but I still had my friendship. 4 On the drive to the hospital, my mind drifted back to my time abroad. During that last year, I lived completely on my own. My parents had died in a car crash, and for the longest time, I thought I’d never get behind the wheel again. But after missing the bus a few too many times, I had no choice. If I wanted to get to the research institute for my treatments, I had to drive. The first time I got in the car, my entire body trembled. I crawled along the whole way at less than 25 miles per hour. But slowly, I got used to it. The old Eleanor Vance, the one who depended on others for everything, had, step by painful step, learned to stand on her own. Now, here I was, sitting alone in a hospital corridor, clutching my latest report. The doctor said I was recovering well, but I’d need a check-up every six months to watch for any recurrence. In that moment, it finally hit me, with breathtaking clarity: I had stared death in the face, and I had won. That year of lonely hospital rooms. The three times I was wheeled out of surgery. The moments I felt myself slipping away. I survived. I wanted to smile, but tears came first. At the beginning, I had wanted to give up. Death had seemed like a release, a welcome escape. But now I knew. I wanted to live. Tears splashed onto the report, blurring the ink. In this hallway, my weeping wasn’t out of place. It was a space that held the desperate pleas of the dying and the euphoric relief of the reborn. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, a handkerchief was offered to me. Embroidered on the corner was a familiar spray of freesia. I looked up, my vision still hazy with tears. “Eleanor.” Ethan’s face was a mask of calm, but the hand holding the handkerchief trembled for a fraction of a second. I didn’t take it. I used the crumpled tissue in my own hand to wipe my cheeks. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stood up and walked past him, our shoulders brushing. “Eleanor,” he called out behind me. I was walking too fast, and his next words were lost to the sterile echo of the hallway. I had more important things to do than get tangled up with Ethan, to listen to whatever words of pity or regret he had to offer. Outside the hospital, I texted Claire the good news. She must have been busy, as she didn’t reply right away. Then, I drove to North Ridge Cemetery. At the foot of the hill, I bought two bouquets of flowers. One for my parents, and the other for his. After my parents passed, they had treated me like their own daughter. Whatever had happened between Ethan and me, I would always be grateful for their kindness. After placing the flowers on their grave, I went to my parents’. “Mom, Dad,” I whispered, wiping a fresh tear from my eye as I looked at their loving faces in the photograph. “I’m going to live for a very, very long time. That’s good news, right?” I leaned against the cool stone of the steps, imagining it was their embrace. I stayed there for a long time, until Claire finally came to find me and take me home. Before she left, I gave her a tight hug. “Claire, thank you. For always being there for me.” She pushed me away gently, her expression serious. “Don’t get all sappy on me.” I smiled, not pointing out the tell-tale shimmer in her eyes. I knew she was just as happy for me as I was. When I got upstairs, I saw him again. Ethan was waiting outside my apartment door. The truth was, Ethan and I were never the kind of people who could be severed by one person’s decision. We had known each other since childhood; our families were best friends. He knew about the properties in my name, and I knew where he lived. That’s why that first year abroad had been so excruciating. He knew exactly where I was, but he never came for me. Seeing me, Ethan’s head snapped up. The composed, indifferent façade he had worn earlier shattered completely. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands trembling as he reached for me, yet he didn’t dare touch me. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on, then off again. In the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I heard his voice, ragged and raw. “Eleanor… it must have been so hard, wasn’t it?” 5 His words stirred nothing in me. The moment I moved past him, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Eleanor.” His fingers pressed down hard on the silver bracelet I wore, digging it painfully into my skin. I looked up at him, my voice cold. “Let go, Ethan.” The raw pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but he didn’t release me. “Ethan…” Suddenly, his other hand came up and covered my eyes. The world went black. I blinked in discomfort as his palm tightened slightly against my face. His voice was a desperate plea in my ear. “Eleanor, please… don’t look at me like that.” His words were so absurd, I almost laughed. Before I could struggle, the pressure on my wrist vanished. He let me go, but only for a second. The next moment, I was pulled into his arms, trapped in an embrace I couldn’t break. “Eleanor, Eleanor, just for a moment,” he begged, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “Just one moment.” He buried his face in my shoulder, his words choked with sobs. “I’m such a bastard.” “Eleanor, I’m so sorry.” “You were sick… and I never even knew.” “You must have been so scared that day.” His voice was hoarse, each word a tear-soaked confession. But it was all too late. Too late. The wounds had already scarred over. “Eleanor, I should have come for you.” That sentence sent a wave of profound sorrow through me. I waited for him for a whole year. For one entire year, I believed he would come. What I got instead were press photos from a new product launch, featuring Ethan with Zoe smiling by his side. Ethan had used his own company’s project as a launchpad to the heavens for her. In that single instant, my world had completely shattered. The ache where the bracelet had dug into my wrist was still there. Underneath it was an ugly scar. It was because of that scar that I had finally, truly, let him go. I had died once already, and I cherished the life I had now more than anything. Ethan’s whispered regrets continued, a litany of remorse breathed against my ear, like the most devout sinner confessing to his god. My patience wore thin. “Ethan, let me go,” I interrupted, my tone flat and hard. Perhaps it was the coldness in my voice that finally got through to him. He stiffened, then slowly, reluctantly, released me. When I met his gaze, I saw the unshed tears glistening in his red-rimmed eyes. My heart gave a painful lurch. The agony he felt for me in this moment was real. But the agony I felt three years ago was just as real. Remembering everything, a bitter smile touched my lips. I reached up and gently wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s too late, Ethan.” My eyes held his, unwavering. “Your apologies, your regrets… I don’t need them anymore.” 6 “Can you believe it? Ethan actually fired Zoe.” Claire dropped the bombshell during our video call, and I could practically feel her shock through the screen. “He actually let her go? Willingly?” I was just as surprised. “Yep. And the official reason was brutal. She’s going to have a hell of a time finding another job in this industry.” Claire paused, then asked tentatively, “Eleanor…” “Stop. Just stop. Whatever you’re thinking, shut it down.” After a decade of friendship, I knew exactly where her mind was going. She was worried I’d fall for him again. She gave a sheepish laugh, backing down. “Claire, I told you that day I would never turn back,” I said, my voice firm. “I meant it.” Maybe, right after we broke up, I had my moments of regret. If Ethan had fired Zoe back then and come to me, I probably would have taken him back without a second thought. But that time passed. And my heart had long since grown cold. No miracle cure could ever bring it back to life. After we hung up, I curled into a ball on the couch. It was a habit I’d picked up during that first year abroad. Back then, I was convinced Ethan would come for me. I wanted to wait for him before having the surgery. I felt like I could only be safe if he was with me. The pain was often so bad that the medicine didn’t work. I learned to curl my body up tight, and somehow, it seemed to hurt a little less. I woke the next morning feeling completely unaffected by the news. As I was getting ready to head out for a run, I glanced at the security camera feed. Ethan was standing outside my door. As if sensing my presence, he reached out and rang the doorbell. My hand tightened on the doorknob. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want to see him again. “Eleanor, I know you’re in there,” his voice drifted through the small speaker, tinny and distant. “Eleanor… I was so stupid.” On the blurry screen, he gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile. “All that time… you told me over and over that Zoe had feelings for me. I never believed you.” Outside my door, his shoulders slumped, and he seemed to radiate an aura of utter defeat. “I wasn’t a good partner.” “But, Eleanor… I love you. That has always been true.” His declaration, or whatever it was, felt like a joke. When I finally opened the door, he looked up, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. I said nothing, letting my silence be his dismissal. But he ignored it, continuing as if I’d invited him to speak. “Was it because of that day?” he asked, his voice cracking. “The one time you needed me most, and I wasn’t there. Is that why? Is that why you’ll never need me again?” His eyes pleaded with me, begging me not to confirm his fears. I let my gaze drift over the decor in the hallway. We had decorated this place together. I’d only been back a few days and had neither the mood nor the energy to change it. Traces of a younger Ethan were everywhere. I sighed softly. “It wasn’t just once.” His head shot up, his eyes wide with shock. As he stared at me in disbelief, I unclasped the bracelet from my wrist. A jagged, ugly scar was revealed beneath it. The raised, keloid tissue was a testament to how hard I must have pressed down.

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The day my childhood sweetheart and I had our worst fight, he slapped me across the face for the girl he loved. In return, I exploded and broke three of his ribs. He screamed for a divorce, but I refused. I thought we’d be stuck in this stalemate forever. But karma comes fast. Three months later, I fell hard for a sweet, innocent younger guy. He started chasing me for a title. So, I had to drag that familiar number out of my blocklist. When I called, a chirpy female voice answered: “Sarah, it’s too late. Even if you come crawling back like a dog, Luke won’t even look at you.” Facing her provocation, I said calmly, “Tell Luke I want a divorce.” The next second, the phone was snatched away, followed by a rustling noise, and then Luke’s voice, trembling with suppressed rage. He said, “Sarah, you wouldn’t dare.” 1 The year I hated Luke the most. I hit the girl he loved most, and he slapped me back, demanding a divorce. For years, all he ever said was that I should learn to be obedient, to be gentle like Chloe. This was the first time he brought up divorce. I didn’t agree. I pinned him to the floor, broke three of his ribs, and choked him until he passed out before he could say another word. Before Luke’s eyes rolled back, I left him with these final words: “Divorce? Not a chance. You want to drive me crazy? Then deal with the consequences. Chloe will be the mistress forever, and you both will live in my shadow for the rest of your lives.” Back then, I had a whole plan mapped out to torture them until death do us part. I hold grudges. Once I bite, I don’t let go. Three years of marriage. Luke turned me from a bride full of hope into a lunatic. That couple ruined me. I swore I’d spend my life making sure they never knew peace. I even bought property outside the city for a long-term war. But fate never tells you what’s coming next. I thought I’d be seeking revenge on Luke forever. But on the third day… I found a starving Liam collapsed on my doorstep. At the time, I heard Luke had woken up in the hospital, cursing me out to a room full of visitors. I excitedly put on my makeup, picked my most stunning red dress, and prepared to go enrage him further. But the moment I stepped out the gate, I tripped over a large, human-shaped object. Dazed, I turned him over and saw a young face. Liam had his luggage stolen, worked as a temp unloading cargo at a supermarket, and got scammed out of three days’ pay. He was delirious with hunger. In his daze, his hand grabbed the hem of my dress. I saw his lips moving and leaned in closer. Then I heard his faint, gasping voice: “Mom…” … After a long silence, I couldn’t help but ask, “…What?” No response. He had passed out from hunger. 2 Later, I learned why. Liam’s “Mom” was purely a hallucination brought on by starvation. When he was little, his biological mother abandoned him in a park. The last time he saw her, she was wearing a red dress just like mine. Collapsing at my door that day, seeing me squat down in my red dress through his blurry vision, he thought his mom had come to take him to heaven. When he confessed this, I threw my head back and laughed. Halfway through, realizing no one was laughing with me, I stopped. It wasn’t funny. Liam was squatting in front of me, his big, wet eyes looking at my manic face. No anger, no shyness, nothing but deep concern. He was tall—6’3″ when standing—very imposing. But his behavior was so harmless. Seeing me look at him, he got nervous, resting his chin on the sofa armrest, looking at me with those watery eyes. He said nothing, yet said everything. Realizing the malice of my laughter towards such a pure soul, I felt a pang of guilt, but I didn’t know how to apologize. Three years of a toxic marriage taught me to use aggression and shouting to mask my fragility. Three years spent entangled with Luke made me almost forget that before marrying him, I was the proudest heiress in the city. The confident, poised woman I used to be seemed buried deep in my memories. Now, I was full of resentment towards the world. I thought I’d be trapped in hate forever. But Liam reached out, pawing at my hand like a puppy. Until my palm opened, and he placed a pendant in it. It was the one Liam always wore. A gift from his parents when he was born. Back when he was loved. Later, his father died in an accident, and his mother remarried and abandoned him. This pendant was the only good memory the world had left him. But now, he took it off and placed it in my palm. He said, “This used to be the most important thing to me. Now, you are. I give it to you, hoping it makes you happy.” With that, he pushed my fingers closed around it and gently kissed my fist. It was the third month Liam had been living with me. I kept him with a mindset of amusement and manipulation, wanting to see what he wanted from me. But he did nothing. He just stood up, put on an apron, and went to the kitchen to cook me a nutritious meal. The spatula he held was the one I bought to use as a weapon against Luke’s head during our fights. In Liam’s hand, it looked small and toy-like, but his movements were agile, not clumsy at all. A smile played on the boy’s lips. Sunlight filtered through, reflecting in his light brown puppy eyes. Like a ghost possessed me, I walked up and asked why he was so happy. “Because I can cook for you.” Such a simple reason. Yet open to so many interpretations. Because someone was eating his food? Because he had a stable environment to cook in peace? Or simply because he liked cooking for me? Facing those eyes that easily saw through me, I suddenly didn’t want to dig any deeper. 3 Under my protection, Liam found a job. No one dared to bully this orphaned, honest, and kind-hearted poor boy anymore. He was nineteen. At eighteen, he got into a good college but couldn’t afford tuition. So he came to the city for work, thinking a big city meant more opportunities, only to be scammed as soon as he stepped off the train. Luckily, despite the rocky start, things were looking up. He got new ID documents, wore the clothes I bought him, and went to work full of energy every day. When he came back, he always carried bags of groceries. He thought I was too thin. When he held my slender wrists, he didn’t know how much strength to use, deep worry etched on his chiseled face. Honestly, I wasn’t petite. I even took boxing lessons to be able to punch that cheating couple, Luke and Chloe. But Liam was just too big. His past part-time jobs were all manual labor. Which meant he ate way more than the average person. So after his bag was stolen, he starved faster too. Now that he was full, he always wore a faint, happy smile. However, compared to his size, he was actually quite shy and sensitive. If I talked to him too much, he’d get embarrassed. According to his colleagues, Liam didn’t talk much at work. But no one found him hard to get along with. Because he worked all day long. His work, other people’s work—if you gave it to him, he did it. Unsurprisingly, Liam was friendly, sincere, and full of sunshine inside. Completely different from me. Current me was a bit too dark, constantly plotting how to torture my cheating husband and his little lover. Just because I missed the chance to gloat at Luke in the hospital didn’t mean I gave up on torturing him. Giving up on the man who was my childhood sweetheart for twenty-seven years, who spent his fiery youth chasing and protecting me, only to tire of me quickly after marriage and fall for a young girl who looked a bit like me. 4 I remembered the last time we met, in Luke’s office. I went to discuss divorce. Three years of marriage, but the honeymoon phase lasted only one. The remaining two years were spent in self-doubt and internal conflict. Eventually, I faced the failure of this marriage and wanted to have a proper talk with Luke. I didn’t expect Chloe to be hiding under his desk… They interacted right in front of me, exchanging glances. Treating me as part of their foreplay. Chloe even thought she was hidden well. Leaning against Luke’s leg, smiling slyly. And I, the moment Luke threw his head back with a satisfied groan, marched over, grabbed her hair, and dragged her out from under the desk. Chloe screamed as I slapped her, her pale face instantly swelling red. Behind me, Luke’s voice rang out. “Sarah.” I turned instinctively, only to be slapped so hard my vision blurred. It took me a while to recover. He looked down at me arrogantly. “Finally learned to fight for attention? Too bad, you look uglier by the minute.” Cruel words fell one after another. My world plunged into chaos and storms. I remembered when Luke first confessed to me. His eyes shining, he said, “You look like a princess when you hold your head high. I want to protect you forever.” But later: “She knows how to be submissive better than you. She knows how to please me. And you? You have to show sincerity, prove you love me more than she does.” He brought Chloe to important social events, hiding her timidly behind him. Guests whispered as we stood apart. I kept my back straight and head high, the crystal chandelier like a lonely crown above me. But when I took off my ring and walked away without looking back, he chased me, hugging me from behind in a quiet corner. “Really angry? Guess my wife does care about me.” His kisses landed on my neck, his tone lingering and ambiguous. “I just wanted to make you jealous. How can she compare to you? You’re the rose I raised myself.” He buried his face in my neck, laughing low. “You look so cute being stubborn and refusing to yield.” Back then, I thought Luke was crazy. I wanted to leave, but entangled by our families’ business interests, I endured again and again. Until they pushed too far. When I snapped back to reality, I had pinned Luke to the floor, smashing him with an ashtray, screaming, “I gave you too much face! You two hook up in front of me without shame, and you dare hit me?!” Luke’s face was a bloody mess, terrifying to look at. His little girl was huddled in the corner, trying to be invisible, terrified. “Sarah, learn to behave, or we divorce.” Even now, his eyes locked onto me, threatening. He always provoked me, then savored my breakdown from his high horse. Seeing his face twisted in pain, I suddenly laughed with relief. I said, “You know what, Luke? Intentional injury gets a heavy sentence, but domestic violence only gets a warning.” “As long as we’re married, I will torture you for life.” With that, I grinned, showing all my teeth. “Divorce? Keep dreaming.” My smile must have been maniacal because I saw clear fear in Luke’s eyes. As my hands closed around his neck, I admit I thought about dying with him. But was it worth it? Letting him die so easily? No. Yes, hatred for him was the only thing keeping me alive. I refused to look back, refused to admit my life was completely twisted. Now, I was a madwoman, a shrew. My reputation ruined, entangled with a man who didn’t love me. My hands started shaking uncontrollably again. The next second, a gentle touch met my palm. I turned and saw Liam resting his head on my knee. He gently pried open my hands, which I had clenched until my nails dug into the skin. After failing to calm me by massaging my palms or offering water, he pressed his cheek against my hand, finally pulling me out of the emotional storm. The boy stared at me with round puppy eyes, unmoving. I looked down at that face—youthful, tender, with deep features, looking a bit mixed-race. Liam was undoubtedly handsome, but his eyes were too clean, making it hard to have untoward thoughts. His cheeks and ears were red, but concern overrode his shyness. Seeing me look at him, he seemed to gather courage, took a deep breath, and pleaded, “Don’t hurt yourself anymore, okay?” Then he gently lifted my other hand and placed it reverently on his head. When Liam first arrived, his short, stubbly hair felt great to touch. Back then, I joked that the condition for him staying was letting me pet his head whenever I wanted. Now, seeing his clumsy, silly attempt to please me, seeing the clarity in his eyes, I couldn’t help but ask: “Liam, lurking by my side for so long, what do you really want?”

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I transmigrated into a high school romance novel as the home room teacher, and my first move was to break up the main couple. “No dating in this class!” I split them up, sat them on opposite sides of the room, and crushed their secret crushes. Finally, after my tireless efforts, the rebellious bad boy became a model student, and the broken girl got into Harvard. Just as I was happily calculating my bonus for being “Teacher of the Year,” the bad boy blushed and asked me: “Miss, if I pursue you now, it doesn’t count as underage dating anymore, right?” Me: ??? Then, a cold voice came from behind me. It was the girl. “Back off. She’s mine.” My vision went black… Help! How did the plot collapse like this? Chapter 1 Who can relate? Staying up all night crying over a novel. The male lead goes to jail, the female lead becomes disabled, ten years wasted, a tragedy that chills you to the bone. “What kind of trashy angst novel is this?!” I threw my phone in rage. “Stupid kids! Why don’t you just study? What’s the point of dating!” The next second, a piercing alarm rang. I groggily reached for my phone but touched an ID card instead: [Willow Mitchell, 22, Senior Class 4 Homeroom Teacher, Southside High] “Willow! Where are you?! Late on your first day?” My phone vibrated violently. The head of the department’s loud voice pierced my eardrums. Wait??? Did I transmigrate into the book? And I became the background character teacher who only exists in the protagonists’ flashbacks? “On my way!” I scrambled out the door. Damn it! Late as a student, late as a teacher? 8 AM classes are a cosmic curse! It looked like I was done for. Suddenly, a motorcycle roared past. Silver hair, full sleeve tattoos, ripped jeans, studded jacket, ear piercings blindingly bright. “Hey! Take me to Southside High!” I slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the gas tank. The boy lazily looked up. “Lady, I’m not a taxi.” I gritted my teeth and slapped another bill down. “Two hundred!” He sneered, jutting his chin toward the back seat. “Get on.” Done! I clambered onto the hard back seat. Just as I sat down, before I could find anything to hold onto… Vroom! The force threw me back! I instinctively grabbed forward! My hands landed on a firm waist and abs. Through the thin T-shirt, I could feel the muscle definition and body heat. “Tsk.” An annoyed sound came from the front. I let go instantly, clutching the seat handle for dear life. I spent the money, now I might lose my life too! The scent of mint hit my face. In the rearview mirror, his amused eyes reflected back at me. “Scared, lady?” “Shut up and watch the road.” I shakily pulled out my teacher ID and hung it around my neck. “Drive straight into the school later. Just say I’m the new teacher!” Chapter 2 At the school gate, the balding Dean was blowing his whistle like crazy. “Jagger! Late again! Where’s your uniform?” My legs went soft. I almost fell off the bike. Jagger? Isn’t this the crazy male lead from the book who goes to jail for love? The Dean’s gaze landed on me, eyebrows shooting up. “Bringing your girlfriend too? Openly dating now, huh?” “You, which class?” My PTSD from getting caught at school flared up instantly. I blurted out: “Four… Class 4.” “Why haven’t I seen you before?” Wait, no? I’m a teacher now!!! I hurriedly held up my teacher ID: “Colleague…” The air suddenly went quiet. Jagger suddenly leaned down close to my ear. “Miss Mitchell? Why didn’t you say so? I would’ve given you a discount.” His breath brushed my neck. I jumped three meters away. In the end, Jagger got detention, and I got my pay docked. Damn, what a loss! I should have just said I was a student. Chapter 3 The moment I pushed open the classroom door, dozens of eyes shot toward me. The blonde boy in the back row whistled. “Jagger brought his girl to class?” “She’s pretty hot.” Jagger threw his backpack backward without looking. “Blind? Didn’t see the teacher ID?” He sat lazily in his seat. Next to him, a girl in a faded uniform whispered with her head down: “Jagger, you’re late again…” He scoffed disdainfully. “None of your business.” I suddenly remembered. Isn’t this the tragic, bullied, pure-hearted female lead from the book?! And right now, she’s sitting next to Jagger, the walking disaster! According to the plot, this is the beginning of the tragedy! No! This ship must sink! Immediately! Right now! Nip it in the bud! I stormed onto the podium, imposing and fierce. “I am your new homeroom teacher, Willow Mitchell. In my class…” “No dating allowed!” The class erupted instantly. “What the hell? Starting with this?” “Who is she? The new teacher?” “Controlling everything, even our love lives?” Jagger leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching like it was a show that had nothing to do with him. I waved my hand grandly. “Now, we’re changing seats!” “Claire!” My voice was decisive. “You! Front row! Far left seat!” Claire’s pale face was written with shock. Finally, she silently stood up to pack her things. Her movements were careful, carrying a long-ingrained timidity. “Jagger!” I pointed my finger at the silver-haired boy next to her. “You! Next to the podium! A solo seat!” The playful smile on Jagger’s face froze. He looked at me, then at the “VIP seat” right next to the chalk tray, under 360-degree surveillance. “Teacher, I…” “Shut up! Move!” I cut him off, leaving no room for negotiation. For a troublemaker like him, you need the hardest steel! Jagger stared at me, his eyes filled with hostility narrowing. After a three-second standoff, he finally let out an extremely annoyed “Tsk.” Dark-faced, he walked toward the “Super VIP Seat.” Good. One left, one right. Separated by the podium’s blind spot, let’s see how you make googly eyes at each other! I picked up the roster, my brain rapidly recalling the character relationships from the book. Who’s secretly dating whom, who’s still lingering with an ex, who’s crushing on whom… precise strikes are mandatory! “Zack!” I called a name. It was the blonde boy who heckled earlier. “You sit next to Luna!” Luna was his ex-girlfriend. The blonde boy wailed. “Teacher! Don’t! Anywhere but there! Please!” “Shut up! Move!” I wasn’t done. I continued deploying my “battle formation.” “Ethan, sit in front of them.” Ethan was the current boyfriend. Triangle formation. Drama mode activated. Let’s see how you have fun now! My brain quickly recalled the other couples mentioned in the book, as well as those deep-hidden crushes. The principle was simple and brutal: Breakups sit together, lovers separated by a galaxy, crushes sent to opposite poles. Little brats. The rain I walked through back then, today I’m breaking your umbrellas! Let you taste the bitterness of love. Chapter 4 Under my command, the whole classroom fell into a moving frenzy. In the midst of this chaos, an accident happened. As Claire walked to her new seat holding her books, a pad hidden inside accidentally fell out. “Maxi Pad! Your big Band-Aid fell out!” The blonde boy immediately yelled out. Several boys started jeering like they were watching a show. Claire hunched her back, face pale, body trembling slightly from embarrassment. In the original story, Claire was often mocked for being well-developed, causing her insecurity. She always wore ill-fitting bras because of it. A wave of anger shot straight to my brain! I slammed the podium! “What did you call her?” The blonde boy grinned nonchalantly. “Teacher, I was complimenting her chest.” I chuckled coldly. “I see your butt is pretty big too. From now on, we’ll call you Big Butt Bro.” Silence. Then— “Pfft!” “Hahahaha!” “Big Butt Bro! Hahahaha!” “Freaking Big Butt Bro!” Roaring laughter erupted. The blonde boy’s face turned purple instantly. I looked around the room, smile gone. “Laughing? Is it funny?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the laughter. “From now on, in this class, if I hear anyone making jokes about someone’s body, appearance, or physiological traits—” “First time, parents called! Learn to speak like a human before coming back!” “Second time, transfer out! Class 4 doesn’t recycle trash!” The classroom went dead silent. My gaze fell on the bright pink pad on the floor. “Also, never seen a pad before? What’s so funny? Weren’t you born from a mother? Girls getting their periods and using pads is as normal as eating and drinking! From now on, if any boy dares to joke about this again—” I raised my hand, pointing at the small pad by Claire’s feet, my voice rising sharply. “I’ll have the girls stick a pad right on his face! So he remembers it well!” Silence. Then: “Good!” “Teacher is awesome!” “We support Miss Mitchell!” Many girls’ eyes were shining, looking at me with excitement and approval. Claire silently bent down, quickly picked up the pad, stuffed it into her pocket, and walked fast to her new seat. Her back was still thin, but it seemed a little straighter.

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She locked our five-year-old twins in the basement. All because they’d upset her childhood flame. I was on my knees, the cold floor biting into my skin as I begged her. “They’re just kids, Alice! It’s pitch black down there, they’ll be terrified. If you want to punish someone, punish me. Please, I’m their father…” But Alice just leaned back into Ethan’s arms, looking down at me with an icy disdain. “It’s because you coddle them that they’ve become so arrogant. I’m their mother. Don’t I have the right to discipline my own children?” Down in the dark, the twins grew desperate with hunger. They found a forgotten bag of dried shrimp somewhere in the clutter. That night, both of them were rushed to the hospital, their little bodies struggling to breathe, their airways swelling shut from a severe seafood allergy. Meanwhile, Ethan was posting on social media, celebrating the news that Alice was pregnant. When my brother-in-law, Mark, arrived at the hospital, he found me collapsed outside the emergency room. “Mark,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Please, just let me go. I don’t want anything. I just want my kids to be okay.” 1 The light above the ER doors burned like a cruel, unblinking eye. My heart felt like it was being devoured by a million tiny ants, the pain so sharp it stole my breath. Mark looked at me, his face etched with a pity I couldn’t bear. “Don’t say that, Liam. The kids are the only thing that matters right now. As soon as they’re out of danger, I swear I’ll deal with Alice…” His voice trailed off as I trembling, held up my phone. It was Ethan’s post, made just half an hour ago. “To the little one we’ve dreamed of, Mom and Dad already love you more than words can say.” The picture was an ultrasound scan. The name was clear: Alice Blackwood. Six weeks pregnant. Mark fell silent. A moment later, he stammered, “I’m calling her right now. Liam, don’t worry. You’re the only son-in-law the Blackwood family recognizes…” This time, I was the one who made the call. I hit the speakerphone button, and Alice’s impatient voice crackled through. “Are you going to feed me that same garbage about the kids being in the ER? I locked them up for a day, Liam, one day. How could they possibly need emergency care? If you’re going to make up excuses, at least make them believable. God, you disgust me.” She hung up before I could say a single word. The color drained from Mark’s face. He looked like a man who had run out of words, out of hope. Tears streamed down my face, splashing onto the sterile tile floor. “Mark, I have nothing left. They’re all I have. Please… let me go. Let them go…” He started to speak, but just then, the light above the ER doors went out. I scrambled to my feet and rushed toward the doctor, who met my desperate gaze with a slow, somber shake of his head. “Anaphylactic shock from the seafood allergy. Their airways swelled shut. They were without oxygen for too long… they were in cardiac arrest by the time they arrived.” He paused, his voice gentle. “We did everything we could. I’m so sorry.” Two small gurneys were wheeled out from the emergency room. Two tiny forms lay still beneath white sheets, all their laughter and life silenced forever. My legs gave out from under me. I crumpled to the floor, the world dissolving into a black, roaring void. Mark made the call to the funeral home. I followed him like a ghost, a hollow shell moving through a nightmare. It wasn’t until the attendants were loading the small bodies into the back of the hearse that something inside me snapped. I lunged forward, clawing at the vehicle’s doors, refusing to let them close. “My children aren’t dead! Where are you taking them? Give them back to me!” My voice shredded into a raw scream. “LET THEM GO! I want to take them home! I have to take them home!” Mark wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as his own tears fell. “Liam, stop. Please, stop. I know it hurts, I know…” Other hands joined his, pulling me away. The moment my fingers lost their grip on the cold metal, the hearse pulled away, its taillights shrinking into the distance. Watching them disappear, a final wave of darkness crashed over me, and I knew no more. When I woke, I was in a bed at the Blackwood family estate. Mark was sitting beside me, his eyes red and swollen. He wiped at his own tears when he saw mine were open. “Liam. You’re awake. Do you need some water? Are you hungry?” I tried to smile, but the effort just made a fresh wave of tears spill down my temples. “Mark… please. Let me go. There’s nothing left for me here.” 2 Mark stiffened, then, after a long moment, he nodded as if coming to a heavy decision. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go talk to Grandfather.” As I watched him leave, I pressed the back of my hand to my eyes and finally let the sobs wrack my body. I came to live with the Blackwoods when I was six. My grandfather and Mr. Blackwood were old army buddies, brothers-in-arms who had saved each other’s lives. My parents died in an accident when I was three, and my grandfather raised me until he passed away, leaving me utterly alone in the world. Mr. Blackwood took me in and raised me as his own grandson. For all these years, both he and Mark had treated me like family, like a son, a brother. That was why, for seven years, I had endured Alice’s cruelty. I stayed home, managed the household, and raised our children while she did as she pleased. It was my duty, my way of repaying their kindness. I thought that as long as I had my children, my life had meaning. But now, I had nothing. Sometime later, Mark returned. “Grandfather wants to see you.” When I entered the study, Mr. Blackwood was sitting in his old rocking chair. The look he gave me was full of a deep, aching sorrow. “My boy,” he said, his voice raspy with age. “I’ve heard everything. It was my stubbornness that ruined your life all these years.” He took a shaky breath. “The cremation is tomorrow. After the service… you’re free to go. That wretched girl has failed you. She was never worthy of you.” I said nothing. I simply bowed deeply before him, my body bent in a posture of final respect. I watched my tears fall, big, fat drops hitting the polished floorboards. I was eternally grateful for the twenty-plus years they had given me, for the home they had provided. But I could never forgive Alice. And I could no longer be her husband. There was nothing left to say. Mr. Blackwood sighed, a sound heavy with defeat. “Go on, then. Leave us.” I had just returned to my room when Alice stormed in, a familiar sneer on her face. “What, did you run straight to Grandfather to tattle on me again? Liam, do you really think that just because you’ve charmed him and my brother, I’ll bend to your will?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know what kind of spell you’ve cast on them, but it’s incredible how they always take your side.” The sight of her ignited a rage so pure it nearly consumed me. I wanted to kill her. I wanted her to pay for what she did to my children. But then, I heard their voices, soft echoes in the chambers of my heart. “Daddy, where’s Mommy? Is she busy with work again today? We haven’t seen her in so long.” “Even if Mommy doesn’t like us much, we still miss her.” “We love you so much, Daddy. And we love Mommy, too.” The last thing my son said to me, as I carried him from the basement, was a whispered plea. “Daddy, don’t be mad at Mommy. We made her upset. Please don’t fight with her because of us…” I took a deep, shuddering breath and turned away from her, sinking onto the edge of the bed. My silence only seemed to fuel her anger. She grabbed my wrist, yanked me onto the mattress, and climbed on top of me. “What’s this act? Weren’t you the one who begged Grandfather to make me come home? Now that I’m here, you’re not happy?” She leaned down to kiss me. I couldn’t push her off, so I did the only thing I could. I bit down on her lip, hard. She yelped in pain and shot upright. “Are you insane? What is this, some kind of pathetic purity protest?” She scoffed. “You’re full of tricks lately, Liam. First, you lie about the kids being in the ER to force me back. When that doesn’t work, you run to the estate and have Grandfather pressure me. And now you’re playing hard to get.” Her voice dripped with venom. “You’re so desperate to keep me, you’d even abandon your own children. Where are they, anyway? They’re five years old, Liam. Did you just leave them home alone? You really are a monster…” My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “They’re dead,” I said, my voice flat and cold, cutting through her tirade. 3 Alice froze for a second, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Wow, Liam. I really underestimated you. You’d say anything to win my affection, wouldn’t you?” Without another glance at me, she stood up and walked to the door. As she pulled it open, she tossed a final, cold remark over her shoulder. “You’re the one who pushed me away. So don’t go crying to Grandfather that I’m neglecting you. It only makes you more pathetic.” The door clicked shut, and the room was silent again. I scrubbed at my lips, trying to wipe away the phantom sensation of her touch, the lingering scent of her perfume. We had been in love once. On her eighteenth birthday, she had stood before me, twenty years old myself, her cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. “Liam… can I like you?” she’d asked, her voice barely a whisper. “I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Looking into her shy, hopeful eyes, my heart had melted. As if in a trance, I had nodded. For the next two years, I treated her like she was the center of the universe, and she, in turn, acted as if she would pluck the stars from the sky for me. It was perfect. Until we were twenty-two. Her grandfather summoned us to his study. “Alice, Liam,” he’d said, his voice firm but kind. “You’re both of marrying age. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing an auspicious date for your wedding.” From that day forward, everything changed. Alice’s warmth vanished, replaced by a constant, simmering resentment. Her eyes, which once held adoration, now held only irritation and disgust. I never understood what I had done wrong, and she never offered an explanation. A year after we were married, she became pregnant. After the twins were born, she grew even more distant, spending her nights out, neglecting the children entirely. She flaunted her relationship with Ethan publicly, parading him around town without a single thought for my dignity. I tried to fight it. I argued, I pleaded. But Alice would just stare at me with a cold, dismissive smirk. “I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? The position as the Blackwood son-in-law, the children. What more do you want?” she’d sneer. “Do you know how pathetic you sound, Liam? Your whining just makes me sick.” After that, I stopped asking for reasons. I stopped asking about her nights with him. I simply focused on my children, building a life with them in the quiet corners of our cold house. In seven years of marriage, Alice never loved me, and she never loved our children. I thought we could continue like that, that I could find enough joy in my children to sustain me. I thought my life still had purpose. But now, even that had been taken from me. The next morning, Mr. Blackwood and Mark took me to the crematorium. As the two small caskets were pushed into the furnace, the tears I had been holding back finally broke free, streaming silently down my face. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, determined not to make a sound. Mark looked at me, his face a mask of worry. “Liam, if you need to cry, just let it out. It’s okay.” I just shook my head, unable to speak. Mr. Blackwood slammed his cane against the floor. “That monster!” he roared. “Where is she? On a day like this, how could a mother not be here?” A flicker of anger crossed Mark’s face, followed by a guilty glance in my direction. He lowered his voice. “I tried calling her. Her phone is off.” When the attendant returned with two small, ornate boxes, Mr. Blackwood reached out with a trembling hand. But I stepped forward first, taking the urns and clutching them to my chest. “I’ll take them,” I said, my voice hollow. “They’re my children.” Mr. Blackwood opened his mouth to protest, but I sank to my knees before him. “Grandfather, I owe you a debt I can never repay. But these are my children. I’m begging you…” My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “They are my children. They will not be buried in the Blackwood family plot. They will not carry the Blackwood name in death.” Mr. Blackwood’s brow furrowed in pain. Mark quickly put a steadying hand on his arm, his eyes full of sympathy for me. “Okay, Liam,” Mark said. “You’re their father. It’s your decision.” I gave him a grateful look before rising to my feet. Cradling the two urns, I walked out of the crematorium and went straight home. I had to pack their things. I couldn’t leave a single trace of them behind in that cold, empty house. But as I pushed open the front door, a vulgar sound met my ears. “Oh, Ethan, stop it… I just got pregnant. The doctor said we need to be careful…” 4 The man’s voice was thick with lust. “I know, I know, I’ll be gentle. I promise I won’t hurt our precious little baby.” A moment later, the sounds of their lovemaking filled the living room. They were in the master bedroom. I couldn’t go in, couldn’t pack. All I could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, forcing myself to listen to every sordid sound. It was a form of self-torture, a punishment I felt I deserved. I don’t know how long I stood there before they finally emerged. Ethan had a smug, triumphant look on his face, though he feigned politeness. “Oh, Liam! When did you get back? It’s all Alice’s fault, she insisted the kids were at daycare and dragged me back here. So sorry about that, man.” Alice emerged from behind him, melting into his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Why are you even talking to him? He has no right to question what we do.” She turned her face up to Ethan. “Come on, let’s go. Weren’t you hungry?” Throughout the entire exchange, Alice never once let her gaze fall on me. I stepped aside, clearing a path for them to leave. As she passed, her eyes finally landed on the two boxes I was holding. “What are those?” she said, wrinkling her nose. “They look so dusty and grim. Disgusting.” With that, she took Ethan’s arm, and they walked out the door. I looked down at the urns in my arms and gently wiped their surfaces. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Mommy wasn’t talking about you. Don’t listen.” I carefully placed the urns on the coffee table and began to pack. Their clothes, their toys, their easel. His last painting was still on it, unfinished. My hands trembled as I removed the canvas. At the top, in a child’s clumsy scrawl, were three words. OUR FAMILY. And below the drawing, a smaller line of text. MOMMY LOVES DADDY, followed by a tiny heart. Clutching the canvas to my chest, I finally broke down, my body shaking with silent, agonizing sobs. In the five years I raised them alone, no matter how bad things got between Alice and me, I never said a single bad word about her in front of our children. But they weren’t blind. They could see it for themselves. Mommy didn’t love Daddy. By the time night fell, I had packed several boxes with their belongings. I had already scheduled a long-distance moving company. I watched as the movers carried everything out to the truck, piece by piece. “Everything’s loaded, Mr. Hayes,” the foreman said. “We’re ready to go.” I nodded, then walked back inside one last time. On the coffee table, I placed the divorce papers I had already signed. As I left the house, clutching the urns tight, a strange sense of relief washed over me. I had just settled into the passenger seat of the truck when my phone buzzed. A message from Ethan. Hey Liam. Sorry, but Alice won’t be home for the next few days. She’s insisting on taking me to Hawaii for a vacation. Tough luck! Attached was a photo, but I didn’t bother opening it. The message stirred nothing in me. No anger, no pain. Just a hollow, echoing emptiness. I pulled out my SIM card, snapped it in two, and as the truck pulled away from the curb, I tossed the pieces out the window. Holding my children close, I watched in the side mirror as the house I had lived in for seven years grew smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a memory. Meanwhile, at the airport, Mr. Blackwood and Mark intercepted Alice and Ethan as they were about to go through security. Alice’s face instantly darkened. “Is Liam insane? He acts all magnanimous to my face, then sends you two to chase me down at the airport? He’s absolutely pathetic…” Before she could finish, her grandfather’s hand cracked across her face, the sound sharp and final. “You monster! You murder your own children and you still have the gall to run off on a trip with this parasite? How did the Blackwood family ever produce a heartless beast like you?” Alice staggered back, stunned. “Grandfather… what… what are you saying?”

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After Alex and I broke up, we slid back into being “best friends.” He rarely contacted me, but he’d call me in the dead of night after every new breakup, asking me to drink with him while he drowned his sorrows. We were tangled up like this for years. He’d amassed enough ex-girlfriends to fill a deck of cards—and I mean the whole deck, not just a hand of poker. After watching Alex flirt, fall head over heels, give the cold shoulder, and then break up with a revolving door of women, my heart had finally flatlined. So, in my 28th year, I handed in my resignation. The reason? I was moving back home to get married. 1 Two in the morning, and my phone lit up with Alex’s name again. “Same place. I need you.” I shuffled into the dive bar downstairs, still in my thickest flannel pajamas. Alex was already surrounded by a graveyard of empty beer bottles. Even with a look of utter dejection on his face, he was still drawing the subtle, appreciative glances of every woman in the room. One was about to make her move, but when she saw me slide into the booth across from him, she sighed in disappointment and turned back to her drink. “Tell me, what’s wrong with me? Why do they all break up with me?” Alex demanded. I shrugged, my voice flat. “Can’t help you there. You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” He gave a sheepish grin. “I just thought… we were better as friends.” Alex was blessed with a face that could stop traffic and was generous enough with his money. Most women found that combination irresistible. But whether it was two weeks or six months, it always ended the same way: a breakup. The reason was simple. Strip away the superficial charm, and Alex was a mess of personality flaws. He had no sense of boundaries, offered almost zero emotional support to his girlfriends, and ran hot and cold like a broken faucet. He was easy to fall for, but impossible to stay with. He also had a flair for the dramatic. When a relationship ended, he loved to pour his heart out to his friends, but he would never, ever beg an ex to come back. Some of them were probably just testing him, threatening to leave to see his reaction. They never expected him to just… let them go. So, in the end, they all became bitter exes. I was the exception. Not just because I was the only one he’d ever initiated a breakup with. But also because I was a chronic people-pleaser. I might turn down a friend’s invitation to a party, but I could never refuse a friend in pain. I was a natural-born emotional dumpster. And Alex knew it. He said we just broke up. We weren’t lovers anymore, but we were still friends. This “friend” never spoke to me in his day-to-day life. But the second a romance imploded, my phone would ring in the dead of night. And I’d show up at the bar downstairs, hair a mess, still in my pajamas. I’d drink with him, pay the tab, and then take him home. Was Alex a player? Obviously. But God, he was beautiful. So even knowing he was trouble, women lined up to get a taste. I was just one of them, an unremarkable one at that. And sometimes, I’d feel a secret, shameful flicker of pride. Pride in being special. Why else would he call me, out of all his exes, for comfort? Of course, I knew that was just a pathetic way to make myself feel better. The real reason Alex clung to me was because my self-respect was cheap. I never said no. But it didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be any more chances for that. 2 Alex was a good drunk. Sober, he was the life of the party, all flash and swagger. Drunk, he became quiet, almost silent. His reactions were slow, but he was docile. He’d do whatever you told him. I got him home, pulled off his shirt and socks, and tucked him into bed. Alex stared up at me, his beautiful eyes wide and unfocused. “Go to sleep,” I said softly, patting his chest. He closed his eyes and drifted off. I spent the night on his sofa. The next morning, I was in the kitchen making him some broth. The door to the spare bedroom creaked open and Alex’s roommate, Leo, shuffled out, yawning. He looked surprised to see me, then his expression softened with understanding. “Here taking care of Alex again?” I smiled and nodded, then plated up a portion of breakfast for Leo too. This was Alex’s apartment, but it was close to Leo’s office. They’d been roommates in college and were still close, so Leo moved in to save on rent. Back when Alex wanted to break up with me, Leo had tried to talk him out of it, telling him I was a catch and he shouldn’t be an idiot. But Alex had one rule: you could fight and argue all you wanted in a relationship, but once the word “breakup” was said, by either person, there was no going back. Still, I appreciated the gesture. Even though I suspected that, in private, they both probably thought of me as the ultimate doormat. Just as the soup was ready, my phone rang. Leo, holding his plate, gave me a slight smile and started to step away to give me privacy. I waved a hand, telling him it was fine, and answered the call. “Hi, Mom.” “Yeah, it’s the weekend, no work today.” “Mmmhmm, I’m almost done packing. I already shipped the big boxes home, they should get there tomorrow or the day after.” “I have to go to the office on Monday to finish up the paperwork. I booked a train for the afternoon, so I should be home just in time for dinner.” “Okay, love you, Mom. Bye.” After hanging up, I turned to Leo. “I’ve got to go. See you around.” Leo hesitated for a second, then stood up. “I overheard your call. You’re moving back to your hometown?” “I am.” I nodded honestly. “My parents are getting older, and their health isn’t great. I figured I’d move back to be closer and help out.” “Does Alex know?” “We didn’t talk about it yesterday. It’s not a huge deal, is it? Not that important.” I slipped on my shoes and gave him a wave. “Bye! Come visit my town sometime if you get the chance.” 3 Alex didn’t contact me all weekend. I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom, had the landlord come for the final inspection, and checked into a hotel on Sunday night with my last suitcase. Then, for the first time in a long time, I called him. He arrived quickly, asking why I’d picked a hotel for our meeting. He was a bit of a clean freak and wouldn’t stay in anything less than a five-star hotel. This place clearly didn’t meet his standards. I leaned against the doorframe, a small box dangling from my fingers. “Want to try?” Alex raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised that I’d suggest it. My feelings for him were complicated, but ever since he broke up with me, we hadn’t been intimate. Mainly because he was always seamlessly transitioning between girlfriends, and I was never sure if he was actually single. “You’re the one who started this. Don’t go crying later that I took advantage of you,” Alex said, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. “We’re both single adults. It’s mutual. How is that taking advantage?” I knew exactly what I was doing. Once we crossed this line, I was done letting Alex use the “friend” excuse to invade my life. We were just two people with a physical history. We’d loved, we’d been entangled. And after this, it would be best if we never saw each other again. The next morning, my alarm jolted me awake. Alex groaned, burying his head deeper into my chest. It was such a dependent gesture. I sometimes wondered if he had a mommy complex. His parents had divorced when he was young; he was definitely starved for affection. I patted his head, got up, showered, dressed, and walked out with my suitcase. After finishing my paperwork at the office, I was on my way to the train station when a message from Alex finally came through. [1] The single number meant: I’m awake, and I’m making my presence known. I didn’t reply. He didn’t send another message. That evening, I arrived home, tired and dusty from the journey. My parents had prepared a huge welcome-home dinner, and the three of us ate together, laughing and talking. After dinner, my dad did the dishes. I went to my room to unpack a little, and my mom knocked and poked her head in, holding a photograph with a smile. “Now that you’re back, Mrs. Davis from downstairs came by. She wanted to know if you were interested in meeting this young man.” Over the years, my parents had gently nudged me about my love life, but they never pushed. But my agreeing to move back was also, in a way, my agreeing to let them set me up. If he had their stamp of approval, it meant his family and job were, at the very least, decent. I took the photo. He had an average, pleasant face. Not a stunner, but not unattractive. I smiled and nodded. “Sure. Let’s set something up.” 4 Life in my hometown was calm and quiet. My parents pulled some strings and got me a temp position at a stable government job. The pay was low, but the work was easy. The blind date we’d talked about was also scheduled. The guy, Mark, worked in the public sector and was polite and well-mannered. We met up three times and both had a good impression of each other. During this time, Alex messaged me three times. The first was: “Met a new girl. She seems cool.” Attached was a heavily edited selfie of said girl. The second was: “We’re official. She’s great, much more mature than the others.” The last message came yesterday: “Damn, I didn’t text her back for one night and she blew up my phone. So suffocating.” Based on my experience, the next step after a message like that was a breakup. So, with great foresight, I put my phone on silent before going to bed. When I woke up the next morning, I found that my phone had indeed been blown up. A screen full of missed calls. From Alex, from his friends, from my friends. I opened my messaging app. Dozens of unread texts. Had Alex contacted every single one of our mutual friends? “Girl, Alex is losing it! He called me in the middle of the night saying you were missing and he couldn’t reach you.” “You didn’t tell Alex you were moving back home? He sounded really off.” “Sarah, if you see this, call Alex back. He’s really worried about you.” Besides those, most of the messages were from Alex himself. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” “Come out for a drink. I’m downstairs from your old place.” “Not answering the door either? Are you sleeping that heavily?” “Your neighbor said you moved? What’s going on? Where did you move to?” “You went back home? Why didn’t you tell me?” “When are you coming back?” “You’re not answering texts or calls. Don’t tell me you’ve actually disappeared.” … Reading his messages made my skin crawl. Alex had never been like this. Usually, if I didn’t answer after two calls, he’d give up. He would never, ever cause such a scene, waking up all our friends at three in the morning just to find me. The thought had barely crossed my mind when my phone rang again. It was him. I swallowed hard and answered, my “hello” coming out a little shaky. Silence on the other end. I tried again. “Hello?” This time, Alex finally spoke, his tone as casual as ever. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d been murdered.” “Sorry, my phone was on silent last night.” “No worries. Just don’t do it again,” he joked. “I was about to call the cops.” He sounded like he was driving. I could faintly hear the robotic voice of a GPS telling him to turn left. “What are you so busy with back home?” he asked. “You don’t tell me about something this big? Do you even consider me a friend?” I fell silent. I had never considered him just a friend. “Whatever, I’m driving, I gotta go. You can hang up.” I needed to hang up anyway. I had a date with Mark to go hiking, and I was running late. At ten o’clock sharp, I was ready. I said goodbye to my parents and headed out. Mark’s car was already parked downstairs. When he saw me emerge from the building, he smiled and held up a bag with breakfast he’d bought for me. A smile spread across my face as I walked toward him, about to say thank you. Suddenly, I heard someone call my name. “Sarah!” I turned. The door of a black Audi parked a short distance away opened, and Alex got out. He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

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I was Julian Sterling’s trophy girlfriend for three years. The day I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant, I overheard his twin brother, Ethan, say: “Julian, I’ve been pretending to be you and playing with your girlfriend for so long. She won’t run away if she finds out, right?” Julian replied nonchalantly, “What are you afraid of? She’s too attached to the lifestyle. Besides, it’s not the first time we’ve swapped. Just don’t get her pregnant. I think that’s disgusting.” Suddenly, a stream of live comments appeared before my eyes: [LOL, the side character is pregnant and happy about it, not knowing Julian never touched her. It was his twin brother, Ethan, who got her pregnant.] [Julian only loves the heroine. Even if the side character is carrying his brother’s child, he’ll kick her out.] I didn’t cry or make a scene. I continued to play the role of the trophy girlfriend for the fake Julian. Secretly, I booked an abortion and a plane ticket to Paris. The day he caught me at the clinic, he went crazy, choking his brother: “Who gave you permission to touch her?” 1 The day I found out I was pregnant, I braved a storm to go to the private club Julian frequented. When I arrived, my hair was slightly damp from the rain. Just as I was about to push open the door to the VIP room, I heard Julian’s cold voice from inside. “Had enough fun? When are we switching back?” His twin brother, Ethan, replied, “Not yet. I’m not bored of her.” Julian frowned. “You didn’t touch her, right? You know the rules.” Ethan paused imperceptibly, then a slow smile spread across his lips. “Relax. I didn’t.” He picked up his drink. “But even if I did, you wouldn’t care, right?” Julian paused, looking slightly unnatural. “Of course. It’s just… unsanitary.” The room erupted in jeers. “Ethan, you even play with your brother’s leftovers?” “Come on, don’t blame Ethan. With a face like Chloe’s, who wouldn’t want a piece?” “Yeah, her body is insane. Curves in all the right places.” “Only Julian here is a saint and hasn’t touched her.” The woman sitting next to Julian laughed. “Chloe sounds like a public restroom. Open for anyone.” Laughter filled the room. I recognized her. Bella Vance. The “Princess of New York,” Julian’s childhood sweetheart, the girl he had always pampered. Someone asked, “Who came up with this idea? Playing so dirty?” Bella raised an eyebrow. “You guys are too dumb. Of course it was me. Chloe would never dream that Julian has a twin brother. You should thank me. If not for me, you wouldn’t have such a good show to watch.” Julian smiled dotingly. “Yes, yes, you’re the smartest.” Someone asked, “I heard you’re marrying Chloe in seven days. Is that true?” Julian smirked. “Of course it’s fake. The little girl wants a title. Just playing along to keep her happy.” Bella suddenly sat up straight, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “On the wedding day, tell her the truth. Tell her that for the past year, you two have been swapping places with her. I want to see her face. Pushing her into the abyss right when she thinks she’s happiest… isn’t that fun?” Julian laughed helplessly. “How old are you? Still so childish.” Bella pouted. “Even if I am, you’ve always given me whatever I wanted since we were kids. But you guys be careful. Don’t accidentally get her pregnant. Those girls from the slums are hard to get rid of once they have a kid.” Julian frowned slightly. “Don’t joke. We never touched her.” Bella tilted her head. “But what if she accidentally gets pregnant?” Julian smiled indifferently. “Then tell her to get lost. Right, Ethan?” Ethan, lost in thought, realized Julian was talking to him and replied belatedly, “Yeah.” The floating comments appeared again: [LOL, Ethan says he didn’t touch her, but he’s been sleeping with her behind his brother’s back.] [The side character is pregnant and happy, not knowing Julian never touched her. It was his twin brother.] [Julian only loves the heroine. Even if she’s carrying a Sterling child, she and the kid will be kicked out.] [I love this! Julian stays loyal to the heroine, and Ethan just uses the side character for practice. This is the drama I signed up for!] I looked at the pregnancy test in my hand. Two red lines. I had run here through the rain, eager to tell Julian the news. I really was pregnant. But now, it seemed unnecessary. 2 That afternoon, I booked an abortion and bought a plane ticket for seven days later. The same day as the wedding. In the meantime, my “sugar daddies” were still sending me allowance, so I could save a bit more. Since they wanted to reveal the truth at the wedding and humiliate me, why shouldn’t I run away first and turn their script into a joke? I’ve saved quite a bit of money being a full-time trophy girlfriend all these years. Especially recently, my savings have doubled. I used to wonder why Julian would “forget” he sent me money and send it again. Mystery solved. Julian sent money to my account, and his brother Ethan sent money too. I patted my little treasury. I got involved with Julian in college. Bella was my college roommate. She loved playing cruel pranks that ruined people’s lives. In high school, she made her rich friend pursue a plain girl. He showered her with roses and designer bags until she fell for him. Right before SATs, Bella told him to dump her. The girl was so devastated she bombed her exams. After graduation, she jumped off a building and ended up in a vegetative state. Bella went on to university and became my roommate. She targeted me because I worked three jobs a day. I worked three jobs because I had a gambling addict father, a deceased mother, and a sick grandmother. I was the “tragic beauty.” This time, I became her new game. Julian was the male lead she chose for me. A math genius at NYU, the campus heartthrob whose candid photos went viral, and the heir to the Sterling empire. His future was limitless. She got Julian to pursue me, to make me his girlfriend. According to Bella’s script, Julian would spoil me with money until I was rotten. Once I got used to the luxury, he would dump me, letting me crumble under the massive gap in lifestyle. Julian was indeed good to me. He showered me with gifts, pitied my background, forbade me from working, and surprised me every day. But I was a hoarder. Whatever money Julian gave me, I saved. I didn’t wear the jewelry he gave me; I sold it online for a high price. I was terrified of poverty. I had low self-esteem. The more money I hoarded, the safer I felt. Besides, I wasn’t stupid. I could feel that Julian seemed to be acting. Every time we held hands, I didn’t miss the flicker of mockery in his eyes. Although I didn’t know why he confessed to me if he didn’t like me, he was indeed rich and foolish. I needed to hoard more. Opportunities like this don’t come twice. We acted like normal lovers—dating, hugging, kissing. In winter, I even knit him a scarf. The day my grandmother fell critically ill, I asked Julian for an expensive birthday gift for the first time. I remember Julian froze, then smiled. I didn’t forget the explosion of ecstasy and amusement in his eyes. Like a viper finally revealing its fangs. They thought I must have been spoiled and corrupted. Everything was going according to plan. Julian broke up with me the next day. Bella waited to see me unable to bear poverty, crying, making a scene, stalking Julian, and embarrassing myself. But she found that I was the same as before—working, studying, returning to a normal routine. I just relaxed a little, cutting down from three jobs to two. Sometimes I added a sausage and an egg to my instant noodles. And a yogurt drink after meals. I even gained three pounds. I didn’t beg for reconciliation or act suicidal over Julian. I even deleted Julian’s contact info immediately after the breakup. Nothing met her expectations. She threw a tantrum, finding the game boring. From then on, she targeted me in the dorm. Putting tacks in my shoes. Pouring cold water on my duvet in winter. Later, my dad lost a huge sum gambling and owed the Sterlings. To pay the debt, he offered me up. That’s how I accidentally became Julian’s canary. Actually, I had planned to live a good life with him recently. Julian had always been aloof and never touched me. But starting early this year, he suddenly started kissing me. One night, he came back drunk. I helped him to the sofa and made him tea. He suddenly pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently. I rarely kissed, and I almost ran out of breath. He laughed softly: “So this is what it tastes like. Sweet. Next time, remember to breathe.” That night, he took my virginity. Later, he liked trying all sorts of exciting things with me. He didn’t like using protection. He liked tormenting me when the housekeeper and maids were around. I could only bite my lip and endure. The more I endured, the more interested he seemed. He had a quirk. When he cooked dinner at night, he liked making me say his name over and over. “What’s my name?” “Julian Sterling. You are Julian Sterling.” “Wrong. Say it again.” “What’s wrong with you, Julian… mmm…” He suppressed the violence in his eyes. The more I called his name, the harder he went. Although he was weird when cooking, like a mad dog needing petting, he loved to act spoiled, loved to kiss me, and made me porridge when my stomach hurt. On my birthday, he set off fireworks all night over the Hudson River. As the grand fireworks exploded in the sky, he stroked my head and said, “Baby, let’s live a good life together.” When I had nightmares, he would wake me up, hold me carefully, and say, “Don’t be scared, baby.” I slowly started to feel like I might like him a little. A few months ago, he pressed me onto the bed, not wanting to use a condom. I asked, “What if I get pregnant?” He kissed me. “Then have the baby. I’ll raise it.” He proposed the marriage. That night, after everything was over, he lay on top of me and said: “Baby, don’t be a lover anymore. Be my wife.” Now I realized, from the first time we rolled in the sheets, that person wasn’t Julian, but Ethan. And the proposal was just a new prank. I really thought about keeping this baby. Now, it seemed unnecessary. 3 Five days until departure. I could already skillfully distinguish the Sterling brothers. Julian: aloof, gloomy, didn’t smile, workaholic. Ethan: affectionate, had a mole on his hip bone visible when naked. I didn’t know if Julian had that mole; he never touched me. When I went downstairs in the morning, Julian was sitting there, reading a newspaper with gold-rimmed glasses. “Chloe, dress up today. Guests are coming.” Reading a newspaper in the morning, glasses, cold tone. It was the real Julian. The floating comments were ecstatic. [Hahaha, she’s going to officially meet Ethan today.] [The side character has been played with by Ethan so much, he knows every sensitive spot on her body, yet she has to pretend not to know him. Must be suffocating.] [Poor people are like that. For money, they’ll endure anything. Our heroine Bella is the best, independent and relying on no one.] [This meeting is just foreshadowing the public humiliation on her birthday. I can’t wait.] [The heroine is such a scheming little diva, I love it.] I went upstairs and changed. At noon, Ethan arrived with Bella. Looking at Ethan, who was identical to Julian, I feigned shock. Julian introduced us: “This is my twin brother, just back from a business trip abroad.” Ethan extended his hand: “Hello.” I shook it. “Hello.” I smiled. “I didn’t expect you two to look exactly alike.” Ethan’s expression didn’t crack. His smile was gentle and harmless. “There’s a lot you don’t know.” Sometimes I really admired Ethan. He had slept with me countless times, yet he could act like a complete stranger. Bella laughed. “No need to introduce me. Chloe and I were college roommates.” She took my hand. “I heard you’re getting married soon. Julian and I agreed, I’ll be your bridesmaid.” Before she finished, the chef announced lunch was ready. At the table, Bella sat between Julian and Ethan. She propped her chin on her hand, asking me with a smile, “Chloe, have you noticed any changes in Julian recently?” I knew why she asked. She wanted to see me make a fool of myself. So I gave her what she wanted. I put down my chopsticks and nodded. “Yes, he has changed a lot this year.” In that moment, the world seemed to pause. They all froze. Especially the Sterling brothers, their expressions stiff. I suddenly laughed, blushing slightly. “He treats me even better. I find myself liking him more and more.” Julian looked at Ethan, his face darkening. During the meal, Ethan naturally put peeled shrimp into my bowl, saying intimately, “Baby, garlic shrimp, shelled, your favorite.” The next second, we all froze. He realized his mistake but kept his composure. “My brother likes calling you that. I got used to hearing it.” I nodded. “You’re strangely nice.” Julian shot Ethan a warning look. I ignored them, stuffing the shrimp into my mouth. Chew, chew. I frowned. Bad. Fishy. Nauseous. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom. After vomiting, Bella looked at me meaningfully. “Morning sickness?” Julian and Ethan’s gazes fell on me simultaneously. I said, “No, I ate something bad recently. Throwing up is good, helps with weight loss.” Julian put down his chopsticks, smiling without warmth. “Any thinner and you’ll cut someone.” 4 That day after dinner, Julian and Ethan drove Bella home together. They came back very late. When he returned, he went straight to shower. I wasn’t sure if the one showering was Julian or Ethan. I saw his phone on the nightstand. I picked it up smoothly. The comments cursed at me: [What is she doing? Daring to check her sugar daddy’s phone? Does she have a death wish?] [Relax, there’s a password.] [The password is Bella’s birthday. This idiot will never guess it.] Oh, thanks. As former roommates, Bella made a big deal out of every birthday. Hard not to know. I quickly entered Bella’s birthday. The phone unlocked. I opened WeChat and found the chat between Julian and Ethan. Julian: [Switch back in two days.] Ethan: [No. Not done playing.] Julian: [She says you’ve been good to her this year. Don’t tell me you caught feelings.] Ethan replied after a long time: [No. How could I?] [Didn’t you say, the better you treat her, the harder she falls when the dream breaks?] [I spent most of the year with her. It’s the final days, I’m afraid she’ll get suspicious.] Julian: [Understood.] [You really didn’t touch her?] Ethan: [No. Why? Jealous?] Julian: [No. Just don’t want my toy getting dirty.] [Warning you. Play is fine, don’t cross the line. That’s the rule.] So, the one who came home today was Ethan. Ten minutes later, Ethan finished showering and came in. I played Candy Crush on my phone, ignoring him. Ethan gently took my wrist, implying: “Why are your nails so long again? My back is full of scratches.” I said, “Call the police then.” Ethan paused, then chuckled low. “Baby, why are you so cute?” He cupped my face and kissed me. His hands wandered under my clothes. I pushed him away. “Stomach hurts today.” Ethan frowned. “Stomach ache? Gastritis again?” I shook my head. “No.” His hand moved to my belly. “I’ll rub it for you.” I slapped his hand away. “No need.” Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. After a long time, he scoffed. “Fine. Suffer then. I don’t care.” We didn’t speak for a long time. At night, my lower abdomen kept aching. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, curling into a ball. Sometime in the night, Ethan sighed softly. He pulled me into his arms, patting my back gently, his voice husky with sleep: “Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay…” When I was very little, my mom used to pat my back like that. That memory was as distant as a dream. But Ethan doing this… It felt incredibly ironic.

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After our family business went bankrupt, my sister was diagnosed with ALS. I dropped out of college, shouldering the crushing debt and the weight of my sister’s fragile life. For five years, I was beaten by debt collectors until I vomited blood, but I wouldn’t spend a dime on painkillers. I worked five jobs a day, passing out from exhaustion, but I never dared to take a sick day. Every penny went to keeping my sister alive. Until one night, while delivering drinks at a high-end club, I saw her. My sister, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair waiting for me at home, was standing there in a designer gown, chatting effortlessly with her friends. “You’ve been faking ALS for five years, Maya,” her friend laughed. “Liam has worked himself to the bone for you. Isn’t this punishment enough?” My sister scoffed. “Almost. If Liam hadn’t been so selfish and yelled at Julian, hurting his feelings, I wouldn’t have had to fake bankruptcy and a terminal illness to teach him a lesson.” “Julian has been enjoying himself abroad for five years. He’s finally in a better mood and agreed to forgive Liam. I’ll find the right time to stage a ‘miraculous recovery.’ Then Liam can have his life back. Consider it atonement for his selfishness.” Her friend hesitated. “ALS is incurable. Will Liam believe it?” My sister smiled with supreme confidence. “That idiot believes every word I say.” “He needed to learn that Julian, as the adopted son, needs more security. As the older brother, Liam should always yield. I did this for his own good. I’ll make it up to him later.” I lowered my head, tears falling silently. But Maya, we don’t have a “later.” Your terminal illness was fake. But mine is real. Chapter 1 The cold draft in the hallway cut through me. I stood frozen, a puppet with its strings cut. I was enduring the agony of five years of faith shattering into dust. Each revelation was a blade, carving out pieces of my soul. Maya’s friend, Sarah, sighed. “You’re ruthless. That’s your own brother. A genius at Columbia, and he dropped out just like that. He’s barely twenty, but he looks like an old man. Just a few days ago, he was short fifty bucks for your medicine and begged me for it.” Maya’s face darkened instantly. “Did you give it to him?” Sarah shook her head helplessly. “You gave strict orders. Would I dare?” “The kid knelt outside my door all afternoon. He fainted from low blood sugar, but I didn’t call an ambulance. He woke up and crawled away.” What Sarah didn’t say was that I had been desperate that day. Maya had been off her imported medication for a week. Without it, she would get worse. I had exhausted every option. Sarah had looked at me like I was a ghost and chased me away in a panic. It turned out she didn’t want to refuse me. She had to. Maya scoffed coldly. “Listen, everyone. Until I bring Julian back, no one helps Liam. He can kneel, beg, or die in front of you—ignore him. Julian is sensitive and prone to depression. I sent him abroad for five years to heal. If Liam’s punishment ends a day early, Julian might get upset again. Anyone who upsets my precious brother will answer to me.” Everyone looked at each other, the absurdity hanging in the air. Someone awkwardly ventured, “Maya, aren’t you afraid Liam will find out and leave you?” Maya burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? We’re blood. Even if you held a knife to his throat, he wouldn’t leave me. Besides, Julian suffered because he’s not blood-related. It’s only right I treat him better.” “But remember, if word of this gets to Liam, don’t blame me for cutting ties.” I leaned against the wall, my limbs numb. So, the five years I staked my life on were just a worthless joke. My life, my freedom, even my health—all sacrificed. Just because Julian felt “wronged.” It was all “trivial” to my sister. I wanted to laugh, but tears fell like broken beads. A phone rang in the private room, and footsteps approached the door. I turned to flee but collided with the manager rushing over. The bottle of vintage wine in my hand, worth thousands, shattered on the floor. The manager’s face turned black. He slapped me to the ground. Maya swept past us. Julian lunged forward and hugged her. “Why didn’t you let me pick you up? Are you tired? I booked a spa team for you at home.” Julian beamed. “I missed you, sis! I wanted to surprise you!” I knelt less than a meter away, mask on, daring not to move or speak. My red eyes stung from the glare of the diamonds on Julian’s watch. One diamond could buy a year’s supply of medicine for the sister I thought was dying. The manager hissed, “Ms. Sterling, I am so sorry this clumsy idiot disturbed your reunion. I’ll have more wine sent up immediately.” Chapter 2 Black high heels stopped in front of me. The manager, terrified of her temper, grabbed my arm and twisted it hard. “Ms. Sterling, this trash has no eyes. Can’t even hold a bottle.” The pain was nothing compared to the broken ribs from the debt collectors. But I shrunk back, feeling my insides twist into knots. Maya frowned impatiently. “Enough.” She pointed at me. “Since you broke it, pick up every shard by hand. If my brother steps on one piece, I’ll make you swallow it.” The hallway had thick, soundproof carpet. The shards were embedded deep. I crawled on my knees, feeling for the glass with my palms. Julian squinted at my back, then grabbed Maya’s arm, whining. “Sis, I’m tired. Let’s go, it’s dangerous here.” The black heels stepped onto the back of my hand, grinding down. Then she walked away, indifferent. I knelt there, staring at the glass embedded in my palm. I cried until I laughed. The manager was horrified. “What’s wrong with you? Why is your nose bleeding?” I staggered to my feet, wiping my face with my sleeve. “Maybe I’m dying.” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I let the blood drip all the way out of the club. When I pushed open the door to our rental, a crash came from the kitchen. Maya was struggling to get up from her overturned wheelchair. Seeing me, she flushed with embarrassment, like a child caught in the act. “Liam, I just wanted to make you some food…” “I’m useless! I’m just a burden!” Her speech was slurred, drool mixing with tears. She played the part of the paralyzed, helpless invalid perfectly. I suddenly remembered that before her “diagnosis,” Maya had severe OCD. She washed her hands twenty times a day. She couldn’t stand a speck of dust. Yet for Julian, she endured this filthy, squalid life for five years. For five years, I was trapped in her performance, living as a complete clown. I wanted to cut open her chest and see if there was a heart inside or just a stone. Seeing my silence, Maya hung her head. “Liam, do you hate me now?” “I’m just dragging you down. Leave me. Let me rot.” She sat amidst the mess, gripping the wheelchair armrest until her knuckles turned white, pretending she couldn’t get up. I walked over silently, righted the chair, and lifted her into it. I wet a towel and wiped her face and hands. I had done this every day for five years. It was muscle memory. She grabbed my wrist and saw the wound on my palm. “How did this happen? Who bullied you?” I stared into her eyes, looking for a crack in the concern. The bitterness in my throat was suffocating. “Yeah. Someone who looks just like you bullied me.” I looked straight at her. “At the Starfall Club.” Chapter 3 I watched her jaw tighten. I smiled again. “But I know it wasn’t you. My sister would never lie to me, right?” Maya looked guilty. She looked away, her voice unnatural. “Of course. You’re my only family. I would never lie to you.” I swallowed the agony threatening to spill over and pushed her out of the kitchen before the tears fell. When I came out with dinner, the living room was empty. I walked to her bedroom door and heard her hushed voice on the phone. “Be good. I’m planning the biggest birthday party for you. I’ll celebrate with you tomorrow.” On the other end, Julian feigned concern. “But tomorrow is Liam’s birthday too. Won’t he be mad if you’re not there?” “Silly, you’re my only baby brother. Your happiness matters most. Liam hasn’t celebrated a birthday in five years; he’s used to it. One more won’t hurt.” Julian cheered. “I knew you loved me best!” I stood there for a long time before taking off my apron and leaving. When Maya came out, I was gone. A bowl of soft noodles and a pill sat on the table. She knew I had a night shift. Thinking of the wound on my hand, my unnatural pallor, and my skeletal frame in the kitchen, she suddenly panicked. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw me smile or look vibrant. A sharp pang of guilt hit her. She picked up her phone and made a call. The next day, I took Maya for her checkup. Her doctor looked excited. “Mr. Sterling, great news! A private research institute in the UK has developed a cure for ALS. They’re looking for two subjects for clinical trials. I secured a spot for your sister.” I nodded calmly. “What are the chances of recovery?” “Eighty percent.” Maya wept tears of joy. “Liam, I can get better! I can be with you forever!” I forced a smile. “If only one of us can live, I hope it’s always you, Maya.” She froze. My seriousness seemed to scare her. She forgot her slurred speech. “Don’t talk nonsense! We’ll both live long lives. When I recover, I’ll rebuild the company. You’ll be the young master again.” But I don’t want to be the young master anymore. And I don’t want you anymore, Maya. I give it all to Julian. The doctor ushered me out, claiming the tests would take a long time. Before, I believed them. I would rush to my part-time jobs while she “tested.” Now I knew it was just an excuse to get rid of me. I stood in the empty corridor and watched Maya change clothes and hurry into the elevator. Downstairs, a luxury car was waiting. I walked into another doctor’s office. “Mr. Sterling, the tumor has grown too large. Surgery is no longer an option. If you had come two weeks ago, maybe…” He sighed. “You have a few days. Say your goodbyes.” I nodded slowly. “After I die, please cremate me immediately. Send the ashes to the Sterling Villa, to CEO Maya Sterling.” I left the hospital with my last few dollars. My phone buzzed. “Come to the villa.” It was Julian. I took a cab to the city’s most expensive district. Five years ago, this was my home. I thought it had been auctioned off. Now, it was decorated for a lavish party. Guests, luxury, light. A different world from the one I lived in. Julian, wearing a limited-edition watch and bespoke suit, stood beaming in front of a six-tier cake. Behind him was a wall of gifts. He clasped his hands and made a wish. “I wish to be my sister’s only brother forever. Her only family.” Maya pulled a velvet box from her pocket. When she opened it, my blood ran cold. Chapter 4 It was a jade amulet. When Maya and I were born, our parents had monks chant over two jade amulets for a year. They were engraved with our names. It was their blessing, their legacy. The only thing I had left of them. Even at my lowest, I never sold it. Now, Maya had carved Julian’s name over mine. In front of everyone, she placed it around his neck. “Wish granted.” I don’t remember leaving. My phone kept vibrating. “I recognized you at the club.” “See that?” “The amulet is mine. The sister is mine. You’re like a stray dog no one wants.” “You’re such a failure, you should just die.” When I didn’t reply, Julian sent one last text. “Brother, I asked Maya to bring you a birthday gift. Enjoy.” I wandered like a ghost until I returned to the rental. That’s when I found out what the gift was. The door was open. The room was trashed. Maya was pinned to the floor, like a dying animal. The scene was so familiar I started shaking. My old broken ribs throbbed with phantom pain. “Kid, long time no see. When are you paying up?” I was pale. “I paid everything off. I don’t owe you anything.” The leader spat on the floor. “I say you owe, so you owe. If you don’t pay… I wonder how many hits your crippled sister can take.” He tapped the iron bar on Maya’s back. “Liam, it’s my fault. Leave me. I’m just a cripple. Let them kill me. I don’t want to burden you.” The same lines. For five years. I looked at the thugs, then at Maya on the floor. Her eyes were clear, not fearful. I understood. It was funny that I only realized it now. They came countless times, but they never touched her. But I… to protect my lying sister… Broken ribs, lame leg, countless scars. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What do you want?” The man laughed. “I don’t like your attitude. Tell you what. Crawl between our legs and bark like a dog three times. We’ll call it even for today.” Maya screamed, “No, Liam! Don’t do it!” I laughed numbly. The last bit of warmth in my heart died. “If that’s what you want, then we’re even.” I was speaking to the thugs, but Maya panicked. She wanted to say something, but remembered this was the “final lesson” she promised Julian. Just this one last time, and then she would restore my status. She thought she had a lifetime to make it up to me. She looked away and secretly took a photo of my humiliation to send to Julian. When they left, I lay on the floor for a long time before standing up. Maya crawled over, eyes red, ready to act pitiful. But seeing the dead look in my eyes, she choked. The next day, the “doctors” came to take her to the UK. She looked back three times. “Liam, wait for me. When I come back, you’ll be the young master again. No one will ever bully you.” I smiled and said nothing. After she left, I covered my mouth and coughed up blood. The doctor said when the tumor ruptured, it would be the end. Strangely, I wasn’t scared. I remembered how Maya used to be good to me. Feeding me candy. Staying by my side when I had a fever. She said, “When I grow up, I’ll make lots of money and give Liam the best of everything. I’ll make him the happiest prince in the world.” I swallowed my tears and typed a final message with trembling, bloody fingers. “Maya, I’m not waiting. My life is yours and Julian’s now. Burry me with Mom and Dad.” I sent it and closed my eyes. On the floor, the phone buzzed frantically.

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My bestie and I transmigrated into a showbiz romance novel. In the esports reality show, she was the muscle, and I was the mouth. When she beat the “pick-me” girl into a 0-12 score, I rushed over to land the final blow: “Babe, why is your screen black? Did you forget to turn on your phone?” When the Movie Emperor fed the enemy team and dragged us down, I threw some shade: “Bro, you’re amazing! You carried the entire enemy team to victory!” The live chat flamed me: [Lu Manman is such a bitch.] I smiled sweetly: “Thanks, but I’m not taking disciples.” That night, the top idol’s interview trended: “Today, I’m kinda into girls who can roast people.” I posted immediately: [Not interested. Stop clout chasing.] 1 My best friend and I are esports streamers. She has the skills; I have the trash talk. When we duo-queue in Honor of Kings, our viewer count hits the millions. Just as our careers were skyrocketing, we both transmigrated into a book. It was a sweet showbiz romance novel. She became the innocent white lotus who couldn’t speak up for herself, and I became her weak, pushover best friend. The original owner quit and left us everything she had, with only one request—help them vent their anger. Looking at the bank account balance, I laughed. We’re Honor of Kings players who passed the trash-talking proficiency test with flying colors. This request? Easy money. Just as I met up with Wendy, we both got calls. Our agent informed us we had to participate in an esports reality show tomorrow. We looked at each other and read the same thought in each other’s eyes—nailed it. 2 Early the next morning. I walked in wearing tight hot pants, a black T-shirt, and a sleek high ponytail. Wendy followed behind me, dressed exactly the same. Next up were the Movie Emperor, Shawn Zephyr; the top idol, Jace Chi; and the popular starlet, Ye Yuyan. Shawn had long legs, a white shirt, black dress pants, and gold-rimmed glasses. Standard CEO attire. He looked less like he was here to game and more like he was here to hold a board meeting. Ye Yuyan had long, straight black hair, sweet bangs, and a fluffy cupcake dress. Cute and obedient. In contrast, Jace dressed simply. All black, no flashy accessories. It perfectly focused all attention on his face, making him look exceptionally striking. These three were incredibly popular, and the live chat was scrolling like crazy. [Hubby is so handsome!] [Yuyan wifey kiss kiss!] Occasionally, a few comments about us flashed by. [Yo, the loser duo is here for a team building?] [Only play mid and support, and they suck at it. Whoever gets stuck with them is doomed.] [Please don’t let these two ruin my Shawn. (Praying hands) (Praying hands)] Maybe that netizen’s mouth was blessed. In the subsequent team selection, Shawn and Jace, as captains, drew lots to determine their teammates. Shawn casually pulled out two slips of paper. They bore two neatly written names—Lu Manman, Wendy. So the final teams were—Jace, Ye Yuyan, and three pro players on one team. Me, Wendy, Shawn, and two other pro players on the other. Now the chat really exploded. Everyone was feeling sorry for Shawn. [Missing a pro player is bad enough, but getting two deadweights? Unfair!] [The skill gap is huge. What’s the point of playing?] [It’s a friendly match, no need to be so serious.] [This is like Peppa Pig vs. Wolverine.] The chat was filled with negativity, so I had to step up and comfort them: “Don’t worry, Wendy and I have a combo move.” Then I pinched Wendy, hinting she should say something to stabilize morale. She glanced at the camera and said coolly: “Relax.” “…” I sighed. Wendy is really cold, but even though she usually spits out words one by one, she can still make me cough up blood from anger. This is why our duo streams blew up. I, who roast everyone under the sun, only eat humble pie in front of her. “It really is a bit unfair.” Ye Yuyan pouted and looked at the host: “Is there no chance to swap teammates?” The host looked at the director: “Each captain has the right to swap a teammate once.” “Yay!” She jumped up happily, her pretty skirt swaying: “Then I want to swap Shawn gege over.” The host quickly added: “This right can only be exercised by the captain, and you can only choose teammates, not captains.” “Oh…” Ye Yuyan pouted again: “My heart aches for you, Shawn gege.” “So fake,” I muttered in Wendy’s ear. She gave me a bland look: “You’re faker than her.” “Of course.” I smirked: “If I jumped into West Lake, all of Hangzhou would be drinking Longjing tea.” The host considerately asked: “So, Mr. Shen, as captain, do you need to swap teammates?” My heart tightened. I knew he wouldn’t swap Wendy, but he might swap me. After all, Shawn is the male lead, Wendy’s official boyfriend. They liked each other, but because Ye Yuyan kept interfering, creating fake ambiguous situations with Shawn, they broke up and got back together multiple times before finally reaching their Happy Ending. Just as I thought this, I met Shawn’s gaze directly. Uh oh, doomed. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly a soft voice floated from the side: “No.” He froze, looking at Wendy with some surprise. She rarely expressed her opinion so firmly. “Whatever.” “I’ll listen to you.” “I like what you like.” “Okay.” These were her usual sentences. Right now, Wendy was looking lazily ahead, her expression so indifferent it was as if she hadn’t spoken at all. But somehow, it was unquestionable. Shawn looked away: “It’s fine, no need to swap.” And Jace, having the advantage, naturally wouldn’t pick us two noobs. The team rosters were set. 3 Teams decided, the game was about to start. We all sat in our gaming chairs, opened the game, and connected our phones to the big screen. Wendy was about to plug in the cable when she froze. I plugged in my screen casting cable, opened the game, and turned to see Wendy’s hesitation. “What’s wrong?” She paused: “Not enough Arcana.” “Huh?” I quickly checked my account. Good god. Full skins. Only played about a hundred games, highest rank Gold, level 50 Arcana. Wendy was slightly better. Platinum, level 80 Arcana. I quickly yanked out the screen casting cable. We were already getting flamed hard enough; if they saw this, the internet would explode. Shawn saw our guilty expressions and leaned over to look at Wendy’s screen. He was quiet for a few seconds, then somewhat annoyed: “Didn’t you know there was a match today? Why didn’t you borrow an account beforehand?” Wendy ignored him. She never bothered with such superfluous nonsense. “I have a smurf account. Only one or two province badges, but it’ll do.” Wow… the flexing. Doesn’t his main account only have province badges too? It’s just a difference of quantity. Wendy didn’t reply, just glanced up at me. Shawn thought for a moment: “Yuyan’s smurf is the same rank as me. I’ll ask her to lend it to you.” “Oh?” I smelled an affair: “Her smurf is the same rank as you, and you know it so clearly? Did you two duo-queue behind my Wendy’s back?” Shawn froze, his expression unnatural for a split second. “Sigh.” I looked at Wendy with heartache: “Poor Wendy, your official girlfriend, yet her profile only has a Platinum badge. Hasn’t even reached King.” Shawn realized something was wrong: “She said she wanted a province badge, so I helped her get one.” … I want three hundred billion too, why didn’t you conveniently get that for me? “As a brother, I just satisfied her small request. Normal interaction between siblings, Wendy wouldn’t be jealous.” Siblings? I laughed. They aren’t related at all, no blood ties whatsoever. These two play word games, using the “siblings” banner to play all sorts of ambiguous games right under the female lead’s nose. Even if the female lead feels uncomfortable, she gets shut down by a self-righteous “You’re even jealous of my sister?” “Shawn gege~” I pinched my voice: “Did you go to middle school?” He frowned at my disgusting “gege” and answered patiently: “Of course, I graduated with a bachelor’s degree.” “Oh, I thought you never went to school. Otherwise, why are you still playing the ‘god-sibling’ game that people stop playing in middle school, even after graduating college?” “Also.” I rested my chin on my hand, blinking my big, sparkly eyes at him: “Brother, if you lack family love so much, have you considered live-streaming sales?” Shawn took two seconds to react: “Lu Manman!” With millions of fans, people usually call him “Mr. Shen” or “Hubby.” Wherever he goes, he’s the center of attention. He’s never been treated like this. Shawn was anxious. “I advise you not to sow discord here. Wendy isn’t dirty-minded like you. I know she trusts me unconditionally. This is the basic trust between a couple.” He sneered: “Of course, it’s normal for someone like you not to know that.” He spoke excitedly, and I acted scared. For every sentence he said, I shrank back a little. By the time he finished, big tears were rolling down my cheeks: “Shawn gege, you misunderstood. I just thought you lacked family care and sincerely gave you a suggestion.” I hid behind Wendy, showing only a pair of teary eyes: “Don’t be like this, I… I’m scared.” At some point, the thousand-person venue had gone silent. We weren’t wearing headsets, so apart from those nearby, no one knew what was happening. The director quietly cut to a close-up of us. The chat had already gone crazy. [What’s wrong with Shawn? Suddenly red in the face and neck.] [Oh my god, Manman crying breaks my heart. Who bullied my Manman!] [Shawn seems to be arguing with Lu Manman.] [Probably because Lu Manman’s account only has level 50 Arcana. She seemed to just realize it too, I saw her panic and switch screens.] [Huh? He scolded her to tears just because her Arcana level isn’t high enough?] [This isn’t a professional esports match, just a friendly game. Is Shen necessary? Being a Movie Emperor makes you amazing?] [He’s so fierce. If he’s this excessive on live stream, does he hit people in private? Holy super-male syndrome Movie Emperor.] [This kind of person has female fans?] [As long as he’s handsome, even guys in jail for assaulting women have female fans, let alone him.] [Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t know the truth!] Seeing the chat getting louder, the host quickly came over to ask: “Manman, why are you crying?” I gently touched my cheek, wiping away tears, and lowered my eyes: “Nothing, I just didn’t prepare well, afraid of dragging my teammates down.” Then I looked at Shawn fearfully and added: “It has nothing to do with Mr. Shen.” Offstage, Shawn’s agent was going crazy, winking at him desperately. Shawn only glanced at the chat and took a slight deep breath. In the blink of an eye, his face was full of tenderness: “It’s okay, Manman’s game account has low Arcana levels, she was afraid of dragging us down so she kept crying.” “I told her it’s just a friendly match, it’s fine.” He turned and handed his phone over, his tone gentle: “Here, don’t cry, use mine.” I looked up, and just behind Shawn on the big screen, a bold red comment floated by. [I’ve watched all of Shawn Zephyr’s TV shows, and I can say that just now was his best acting performance.] I quickly lowered my head, afraid I would laugh out loud. Seeing I had performed enough, Wendy stood up and said coolly: “Thank you, Mr. Shen, but no need.” Such a distant address made Shawn pause. He wanted to say something, but with the host present, he shut up. “Use mine.” I turned around and met Jace’s playful gaze. “Full Arcana, full skins.” He looked up at Shawn: “And a Grandmaster badge.” He wasn’t sitting far away, so he had watched the whole drama from beginning to end. But I didn’t mind being seen by him. Because he’s the villain in this book, dedicated to causing trouble for the protagonists and inadvertently helping their romance. In other words, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. “No need.” Wendy refused flatly: “I’ve solved it.” She casually charged a few thousand bucks into the game and successfully got full Arcana. “Spending a certain amount of coupons weekly grants an Arcana trial weekly card,” she explained. “…” Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, a bit helpless. “It seems our Wendy did her homework best,” the host smiled, smoothing things over. I silently lowered my head and charged money: “Money talks.” After charging, I gifted all the intimacy items I bought to Wendy, and changed my name by the way. Lu the Roaster, officially online! 4 It was time for the match to start. But Ye Yuyan claimed she needed to go to the restroom to touch up her makeup. Not only did she miss a big scene, she still hadn’t come back. Shawn’s phone kept vibrating, but his mind was on Wendy right now. He just frowned at his phone and ignored it. I thought for a moment, then grabbed Wendy’s arm and stood up: “I want to go touch up too, come with me.” Sure enough, not long after we walked out arm in arm, Shawn followed. He blocked Wendy: “Are you angry?” Wendy remained indifferent: “No.” “Because of Ye Yuyan? I told you, she’s my sister, why don’t you understand?” “No.” “You used to be very reasonable, what’s wrong with you today?” Shawn paused, looking at me with disgust: “Is it because of her?” “You usually pretend to be honest, but you sow discord behind my back a lot, don’t you?” “I haven’t.” I looked innocent, holding up four fingers: “I swear.” I usually sow discord right to his face. “I’m going to the restroom, you guys talk.” I winked at Wendy: “Don’t wait for me.” With a turn, I hid in the restroom. The corridor went quiet, only Wendy’s cold voice reached my ears. “I don’t allow you to speak to Manman with that attitude.” Shawn couldn’t believe it: “You’re actually siding with her?” “She’s my friend.” “Think clearly, who is the person who will be with you for a lifetime?” Wendy’s voice held no hesitation: “Of course it’s her.” “Shawn gege.” Crisp high heel sounds approached, Ye Yuyan’s voice sweet: “Sister-in-law, so you guys even go to the restroom together usually, so loving.” She sighed lightly: “If only I had a boyfriend like that.” Wendy smiled: “Take him, he’s yours.” Then came the sound of Wendy walking away. I hid in the restroom, silently turning on my phone camera. “Gege, is sister-in-law mad at me?” Ye Yuyan looked innocent. “Yes.” Shawn leaned against the wall, pinching his brow wearily: “She probably thinks I’m too close to you and got jealous.” “What is she blindly jealous for?” Ye Yuyan shook Shawn’s arm: “We’re siblings.” Shawn was silent for a few seconds: “Not by blood, after all.” “So what? Our relationship is clearly better than real siblings.” “She wouldn’t understand.” “Jealous, huh?” Ye Yuyan suddenly stood on tiptoe and kissed him hard on the cheek. Shawn froze: “What are you doing?” “Can’t I kiss my brother to make him happy?” She simply wrapped her arms around Shawn’s neck and kissed his face endlessly. “Hmph, I’ll let her be jealous enough!” Shawn chuckled helplessly, grabbing her waist with both hands: “Stop it.” “I want to!” Ye Yuyan said as she moved in to kiss him. But very “coincidentally,” she kissed Shawn on the lips. Both froze, the atmosphere becoming ambiguous. Ye Yuyan closed her eyes, tentatively biting Shawn’s lip. The kiss lasted a few seconds. Shawn, as if his conscience finally awoke, pinned Ye Yuyan against the wall, pinching her waist fiercely, his eyes filled with undisguised lust. “Ye Yuyan, don’t force me to do things I shouldn’t.” After a while, Shawn straightened his clothes: “Don’t do this again.” Then he walked back as if nothing happened. This is the male lead, the gun goes off, but he always stops the fire in time. Ye Yuyan smirked, walking towards the restroom satisfied. I put away my phone, feeling a wave of nausea. The poor original owner, who knows how long she was bullied by them like this. “Oh, Manman jie.” Ye Yuyan walked over leisurely: “Look at my new lipstick, does it look good?” Her lips were still moist, the signs of intimacy obvious. She looked at me, smiling triumphantly: “I bet sister-in-law will definitely like it.” I frowned: “Forget it, this shade looks smelly.” “Heh.” She sneered. I stepped forward and put my arm around her shoulder: “Babe, are we good friends?” Ye Yuyan frowned, but couldn’t dodge my hand. “I… guess…” “Then do you have any gossip to share with me?” “No.” She looked impatient: “I’m not a gossip.” “Really?” I blinked at her reflection in the mirror: “I wanted to share some gossip I just learned with you.” I lowered my voice: “About Movie Emperor Shawn Zephyr.” She finally got interested: “Oh? What?” I raised an eyebrow: “So are you a gossip?” She choked. I didn’t mind, continuing: “It’s said that Shawn, he has a foot fetish!” “Foot fetish?” Ye Yuyan thought for a moment, looking down at her open-toed heels with satisfaction. “Yeah, my Wendy told me.” I acted serious: “Don’t look at how serious he seems on the surface, in private he holds my Wendy’s feet and licks them endlessly.” Her face went pale instantly. “Just before the recording today, Shawn specifically came to my house to find Wendy, and made me go out alone to wait for them. “I peeked at the surveillance camera, guess what.” Ye Yuyan’s expression was complicated: “What did you see?” “I saw him kneeling on the ground like a dog licking my Wendy’s feet! “Tsk tsk tsk.” I shook my head repeatedly: “My Wendy has athlete’s foot, how could he put his mouth on that? “Hey, by the way, do you think athlete’s foot is contagious to the mouth?” “Ugh.” Ye Yuyan covered her mouth, face pale: “I don’t feel well, excuse me.” Probably went to find mouthwash. I clapped my hands, leisurely watching her rush out. Mm, if she’s uncomfortable, I’m comfortable.

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Chapter 1 After my grandmother stole me and sold me to human traffickers, my mother went insane. My father went to his grave never forgiving my brother for letting go of my hand. My brother spent ten years searching for me alone. He traveled to every corner of the country, living like a ghost. When he finally lost all hope, he slit his wrists in a cheap motel room. Meanwhile, my grandmother and my uncle’s family happily occupied our house and spent our inheritance. I wanted to burn them all alive. I wanted to drag them to hell with me. Instead, I woke up. I was reborn. I heard my grandmother’s voice, counting cash and whispering to the trafficker: “Take the girl. Leave my grandson for now.” If I hadn’t been snatched that day, I would have remained the princess of my family. My parents and my big brother adored me. In my past life, I was sold deep into the mountains. A high fever left me slow, confused, and broken. The family that bought me realized I was “damaged goods” and a waste of food, so they sold me again. I was passed from hand to hand like a bad penny until no one wanted me anymore. Finally, they said, “She might be slow, but her kidneys work. Her heart is strong.” I was carved up and sold for parts. That’s how I died. Only after death did my spirit drift back home. That’s when I learned the truth. My parents couldn’t handle the grief and died one after another. My brother was the only one left. He never stopped looking. He carried my photo everywhere, sleeping under bridges, eating one meal a day, asking every stranger if they’d seen his little sister. When he finally heard the news of my death—that I had been butchered on an operating table—the last thread of his sanity snapped. “Mom, Dad… Sophie. Wait for me. I’m coming.” The razor blade sliced deep. “Ben! No!” I tried to stop him, but my ghostly hand passed right through his wrist. The rage and sorrow were so intense I thought my soul would shatter. Was this it? Was I just going to watch my family die because of me? Suddenly, a blinding light flooded the room. I jolted awake, coughing. The air was thick with stale cigarette smoke. I was lying in the back of a cargo van. I stared at the man in the front seat. Black leather jacket. Greasy hair. It was him. The trafficker. Snake. He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to the woman sitting across from him. “Count it, Auntie. Five thousand dollars. I heard you have two grandsons, too. I’ll pay triple for them.” Five thousand dollars. That was the price of my life. That was the price of my family’s destruction. Through the haze of smoke, I saw her face. My grandmother. The woman who always smiled at me and gave me candy. She stuffed the money into her bra, looking satisfied. “Forget it. I’m not selling my grandsons.” A chill went through my bones, colder than the death I had just escaped. Why? Why Grandma? Snake laughed, echoing my thoughts. “Auntie Ruth, aren’t you scared your son will find out?” “You keep your mouth shut, I keep mine shut. Who’s gonna know?” Grandma Ruth scoffed, her accent thick and jagged. “Besides, girls are just raised for other families anyway. If I don’t sell her now, she’ll just get married off later for free.” “My oldest son is in jail. He needs bail money. My youngest—Sophie’s dad—refused to give it to me. He won’t help his own brother, but he treats this little girl like a treasure? I’m doing this because he forced my hand.” Snake cackled. “Alright, Ruth. Call me when you have more stock.” “With this money, I can get Earl out,” Grandma muttered, then added sharply, “Make sure you take her far away. The farther the better. Maybe then my rich son will pay me more alimony to comfort himself.” Because of that one sentence, I was dragged across state lines in my last life, never to see the sun again. This time, I was going to make them all pay. The sedative hadn’t fully worn off, but my mind was racing. I memorized every turn, every sign. There was another kid in the van—a little boy, dressed in expensive clothes, sound asleep. Probably snatched from a wealthy neighborhood. The van pulled over on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. A woman in a sun hat tapped on the window. “Snake, you got a boy this time?” Snake looked around nervously and nodded. “Yeah. Twelve grand.” “Done.” The woman sighed in relief, handing over a thick envelope. She turned around to reveal a large wicker laundry basket on her back. “Put him in here.” This was my chance. “Mommy! Mommy, don’t leave me! Take me with my brother!” I screamed, struggling up and grabbing the woman’s sleeve. “What do I need a girl for?” The woman, Martha, turned away, though I saw a flicker of hesitation. The little boy woke up at the commotion. He was smart. He didn’t expose me. He just started crying, “Sissy! I want Sissy!” Snake saw an opportunity to upsell. “Just take her, Martha. Girls are cheap. She can do chores, clean the house. Since you’re a regular, I’ll give her to you for two grand. A package deal.” Martha did the math and nodded. I was shoved into the laundry basket next to the boy. I was sold again, for a discount. The basket was covered with a heavy tarp. Martha drove us to a bus station. When she went to the bathroom, she left the basket on a bench. “You two stay quiet. There are bad men around here.” The moment her footsteps faded, I shook the little boy awake. “Do you want to go home?” I whispered. He nodded furiously, tears in his eyes. “Listen to me. Follow me. Don’t cry, don’t scream. If you make a sound, I’m leaving you here.” I put on my fiercest face. We climbed out and blended into the crowd. I didn’t go to the cops. Not in this town. Snake operated here; the local sheriff might be on his payroll. I couldn’t risk it. I found the ticket counter. I dug a crumpled ten-dollar bill out of my pocket—my emergency money—and bought two tickets for the next Greyhound bus to the city. The lady behind the counter raised an eyebrow. “Where are your parents?” I grabbed the boy’s hand and gave her my sweetest, most innocent smile. “We’re going to see Mommy in the city. She’s waiting for us at the station.” We got on the bus. We didn’t have enough for a long haul, but we just needed to get away from here. I smeared dirt on our faces to hide our features. We looked like two little beggars. The boy—let’s call him Timmy—was starving. His stomach growled like a beast, but he didn’t complain. “We’ll be home soon,” I promised him. We scavenged leftover fries from a trash can at a rest stop. It was degrading, but survival has no pride. Finally, we had enough for a train ticket back to my hometown. I spotted a nice-looking lady and we tailed her, pretending to be her kids to get through the gate. Just as we stepped onto the train car, chaos erupted on the platform. “My babies! They stole my babies!” It was Martha. She was screaming like a banshee, pointing right at us. She charged the train. A few passengers behind us frowned. “Kids, don’t run off. Go to your mom.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Was history repeating itself? I thought of Ben, my brother, bleeding out in that motel room. No. Not this time. I bit down hard on the hand of the passenger trying to hold me back. “She’s lying! She’s not my mom! Help! She’s a kidnapper!” Martha screamed in pain and slapped me across the face. Smack! Her accomplice, a burly man, grabbed me by the hair. “You little brat! Biting your own mother?” I curled into a ball on the floor. The other passengers looked away. No one wanted to get involved in a domestic dispute. “Kids these days,” someone muttered. My vision blurred. The man was dragging me toward the door. Suddenly, a small body threw itself over me. “Leave her alone! Don’t take my sister!” Timmy screamed, latching onto the man’s leg. Martha grabbed Timmy, her face twisting into a fake smile. “Oh, my poor baby. Come to Mama.” I tasted blood in my mouth. I used every ounce of strength I had left to scream. “You don’t even know our names! My real mom loves me! She would never hit me like that! You’re a liar!” The car went silent. Doubt crept into people’s eyes. Martha looked nervous. “She’s… she’s my stepdaughter. She’s got mental issues. Always running away.” The “stepmom” excuse. It worked like a charm on the indifferent crowd. Just as hope was fading, a calm voice cut through the noise. “Ma’am, if you’re his mother, why didn’t you notice your son is having an asthma attack?” A young man in a suit stepped forward. “I’m a doctor. You’re suffocating him. I suspect you aren’t related to these children at all.” Timmy’s face was turning red, his chest heaving. Martha had been clutching him too tight. The tide turned. The conductor was called. Martha and her goon were kicked off the train, screaming curses. We were safe. The doctor, Dr. Carter, treated Timmy. “You’re safe now,” he said gently. I sat in the seat, trembling. “Does it hurt?” he asked, looking at my bruised cheek. I shook my head. This pain was nothing compared to losing everything. “Do you know where you live, kid?” “Yes.” I knew. I had dreamed of my front door every night for a lifetime. Dr. Carter was kind. He believed us. “I’m just back from med school abroad. If I hadn’t stepped in… well, I saved a family today.” When we arrived in the city, he walked us to the police station. He gave me a handful of chocolates before leaving. “Stay safe, little one.” At the station, I gave the officers my address and phone number. But Timmy stayed silent. He clung to my shirt, terrified. “We can find your parents,” the officer said to me. “But this little guy… we don’t know who he is.” Timmy looked at me with big, wet eyes. “Sissy?” I sighed. “Officer, can he come with me? Just until you find his family? My parents will help.” I gave them a detailed description of Snake, Martha, and the van. The female officer was stunned. “How do you remember all that?” “Because,” I said, my voice cold, “I never want to forget the face of the man who tried to end my life.” The police drove us to my house. It was dark. The house was locked and dusty. My heart sank. They were already out looking for me. I knew the timeline. Mom was currently wandering the streets, showing my photo to strangers. Dad was sleeping in his car near the train station. Mom would die in four years. Dad the year after. I couldn’t wait. I turned to the officer. “Take me to the countryside. My grandma’s house.” We drove deep into the backwoods. It was 3 AM. Most houses were dark, but a light burned in Grandma Ruth’s window. I stood outside the thin walls and listened. “David, listen to me,” Grandma’s voice whined. “Your brother Earl found a connection. A private investigator. But he needs twenty grand to start looking for Sophie.” My dad’s voice sounded broken. “Mom, I swear, if I had twenty grand, I’d give it to you. But the business is tight…” “Sell the factory then! Borrow from the neighbors!” Uncle Earl chimed in, his voice dripping with fake concern. “Every day Sophie is out there… I heard these traffickers break kids’ legs to make them beg better…” I saw red. She sold me, and now she was scamming my grieving father for more money? I banged on the door with both fists. “Dad! Mom! Don’t listen to them!”

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It was our third wedding anniversary, and I was planning to deliver the news of my pregnancy to Alexander “Alex” Maxwell as a surprise. But a sudden, reckless impulse led me to check his phone first. That’s when I saw the photograph. The woman in the picture bore an unsettling resemblance to me, but the child in her arms—a toddler—had a shadow of Alex’s features. I heard the click of the bathroom lock turning. I looked up, meeting Alex’s eyes as he stepped out. His gaze dropped to the phone in my hand. His face darkened instantly. The shift was chilling. “Why were you going through my phone?” he demanded, his voice low and cold. 1 I almost laughed. The lock screen password was my birthday. Was he genuinely so arrogant, so trusting, that he believed I’d never look? I remained silent. He strode forward and snatched the phone away. When he saw the photograph himself, he froze. A wave of complicated, churning emotion flashed in his eyes before he masked it. It took him a moment. He finally lifted his head to look at me, his expression hardened with displeasure. “You shouldn’t have looked.” In all the years I’d known Alex, this was the first time he’d turned that dark look on me. It was the frantic fury of a secret exposed. I lowered my eyes, clenching my fists, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice. “Who are they?” His silence was the only answer, a suffocating blanket in the air. I risked a glance at him. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of rare, genuine frustration. A sliver of guilt finally seemed to penetrate his annoyance. “The child is mine. And she…” He trailed off, his hesitant gaze lingering on my face for a long time. “She’s my ex-girlfriend.” My eyes stung with a sudden, hot burn. Alex watched, completely lost. He fumbled, gently wiping a tear from my cheek. “Mia, it’s not what you think. I broke up with her right after you came back from overseas. She was pregnant but didn’t tell me. She had the baby and only contacted me about a year ago.” The explanation was paper-thin, transparent. He had successfully hidden the existence of this “ex” from the beginning. During the three years I was away for school, we’d lost touch. When I returned, I was met with Alex, the devoted, patiently waiting fiancé. It was all a facade. While I was gone, someone else had been by his side. I stared straight into his eyes, demanding the truth. “If she had told you about the pregnancy back then, what would you have chosen?” His gaze flickered. He frowned, his impatience returning. “Don’t make useless hypotheticals.” Faced with a devastating choice, Alex chose to dodge. But I had already seen the hesitation, the quiet conflict, in his eyes. I took a shaky breath, forcing a small, brittle smile onto my face. “Alex, do you want a divorce?” 2 Alex rejected the suggestion immediately. He scrambled into his clothes and slammed the door behind him, leaving without a second glance. The third night, he came back smelling strongly of liquor. He grabbed me roughly, pinning me beneath him on the bed. His kiss was scalding, a desperate, suffocating pressure that gave me no chance to breathe. The heavy scent of alcohol filled my nostrils, but beneath it, I caught a faint, sweet, and distinctly feminine perfume. Finally, just as I felt myself starting to panic, he released me. His eyes were bloodshot, shimmering with unshed tears. “Amelia,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a strange, wounded fury. “You have no right to ask me for a divorce.” The tremor in his voice carried a hint of self-pity, as if I were the one who had committed the unforgivable act. I pushed him away and sat up, my gaze cold and flat. “Did you change cologne?” The lingering scent on his skin was definitely a woman’s sweet fragrance. Where he’d spent the last two days was painfully clear. He offered no explanation. Instead, he grinned, a flash of undeniable mockery in his eyes. “Do you think I’m too much, Mia? Because you’re worse. You settled for me, but your heart was still hung up on Spencer Elliott, wasn’t it?” It took me a full three seconds to process the name. Spencer Elliott. I saw the look on Alex’s face—a sick satisfaction, the triumph of achieved revenge. It hit me. He still resented me for chasing Spencer overseas years ago. His next words were calculated, stabbing right at my deepest vulnerability. “If you truly want a divorce, why don’t you go ask the Owens what they think first?” Immediately, the stern, judging faces of my adoptive parents flashed in my mind, followed by the familiar, cutting stream of blame and admonishment. I squeezed my hands into fists. My fingertips felt ice cold. Alex’s smile widened, becoming outright cruel. In that instant, everything clicked into place. “Alex, this is about revenge, isn’t it?” He didn’t flinch. He admitted it brazenly, even promising that this was only the beginning. “You don’t love me, so I’ll make you miserable.” With that, he got up and walked out of the room. I reached for my stomach, then pulled out the sonogram I’d planned to give him as a surprise. Slowly, I tore the paper into small, jagged pieces.

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