Category: English

Arthur Sterling had always been fiercely, obsessively devoted to me. Yet, just because I went to meet that girl, he drove his car straight at me. I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you really like her that much?” Arthur looked at me coldly. “She was willing to take a knife for me. Could you do the same?” I let out a sharp, sudden laugh. “Absolutely not.” 1 Arthur had been hiding a mistress behind my back. He hid her for six months, and I didn’t suspect a thing. Until a week ago. I had my period, and out of nowhere, he remarked, “You don’t seem to get cramps anymore.” I froze for a second. Instantly, I realized that this bastard definitely had someone he cared about who suffered from severe period cramps. So, I casually replied, “Dr. Lee has been treating me. A few rounds of his herbal medicine cleared it right up.” Arthur didn’t even blink. He just gave a highly indifferent, “Hm.” Three days later, I flew out of the country for a business trip. He used that time to escort a girl somewhere. The photo I received was so blurry you couldn’t even make out her face. But the incredibly precious, overly protective way Arthur treated her was glaringly obvious. I wasn’t surprised that Arthur cheated. I was surprised that he actually cared this much. What kind of girl is she? Driven by curiosity, I secretly flew back home without telling him. I had my driver, Old Xu, take me straight to the apartment where Arthur was keeping her. Perfect timing. Arthur had just stepped out of his Cullinan. He carelessly tossed his bespoke, high-end suit jacket onto the backseat and pulled on a cheap, generic windbreaker. He threw on a pair of glasses, messed up his perfectly styled hair, and grabbed a generic laptop bag. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is he cosplaying as Kevin from IT?” “A programmer?” Old Xu kept his head down, staying as quiet as a mouse. Once Arthur disappeared upstairs, I pushed my door open. “Wait here. I’m going up to take a look.” “Boss…” “What are you afraid of? Is he going to kill me?” … “He wouldn’t kill you either!” 2 Anyone with half a brain knew that the second I went up there and exposed his secret, things between me and Arthur were going to get violently ugly. Especially since our conflicts had been escalating exponentially over the last two years. The cold wars, the screaming matches, the smashing of things—it had become our daily routine. Our most recent blowout was half a month ago. I honestly can’t even remember what started it. At the climax of the argument, I grabbed a glass and hurled it directly at his head. He could have dodged it, but he didn’t. He just stood there, letting the bright red blood stream down his forehead. His eyes were freezing cold. “Is there even a trace of the girl you used to be left in you?” How hilarious. I’m not like I used to be, but is he? When he changes, it’s perfectly natural and justified. But when I change, it’s an unforgivable sin? Knock. Knock. Knock. I rapped on the door. Arthur opened it. He still had a warm, gentle smile plastered on his face as he called back inside, “Just leave it, I’ll get it.” He turned around. The absolute second his eyes locked onto mine, the smile fractured and shattered. The soft, gentle warmth in his eyes instantly froze into solid ice. The transition was so flawlessly smooth it belonged in an acting masterclass. “Who is it?” A petite, pretty girl poked her head out from behind him. Meeting her gaze, I paused for a second. Arthur shifted his body to block her. “Go back inside.” His low, serious tone confused the girl. A smile unexpectedly crept onto my lips. I stepped forward and extended my hand before he could stop me. “Hi, I’m a coworker of Arthur’s. I need to discuss some work matters with him.” Arthur gave me a flat, icy look, but silently accepted my cover story. “Stay inside. We’re going to talk outside.” “Is it inconvenient? Did I interrupt your time with Mrs. Sterling?” The girl’s face flushed bright red, and she waved her hands frantically. “No! I’m not Mrs. Sterling! We aren’t…” “Not married yet? Well, I’m sure it’ll happen soon. Make sure I get an invitation to the wedding.” Her face turned even redder, and she stole shy, embarrassed glances at Arthur. My smile grew wider. “By the way, my name is Mia Harrison. What’s yours?” “Chloe Lin. Nice to meet you!” 3 Chloe Lin. 19 years old. A student at University H. Exceptional grades, impeccable character. That was all the information I could dig up. Arthur had completely scrubbed the rest of her background. Ultimately, I never stepped foot inside their little love nest. Under Arthur’s freezing, intimidating glare, I smoothly followed him downstairs. “How did you get here?” … “Why didn’t you tell me you were back in the country?” … “How long have you known?” … Arthur took a deep, aggressive drag of his cigarette. “What do you want?” I scoffed out loud. Finally, getting straight to the point. “What do you think I should want?” Arthur tilted his head to look at me. “My relationship with her isn’t the dirty, sleazy affair you’re imagining.” “She has health issues. I’m taking care of her. That’s all.” I dragged out a long, sarcastic “Oh.” “And what if I don’t believe you?” Arthur’s face instantly darkened. My aura of breezy, unbothered warmth vanished completely. I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. “Mia.” I turned around. The next second, the terrifying roar of an accelerating engine echoed through the garage. Arthur had one hand on the steering wheel. As the car sped aggressively directly toward me, his eyes never left mine for a microsecond. He watched my pupils dilate in horror, watched my entire body paralyze in fear. SCREECH— The bumper stopped literally touching my kneecaps. Braked to a violent halt. My mind went completely blank. For a split second, it felt like a bomb had detonated inside my skull. The car reversed, swung around, and pulled up right next to me. Arthur looked up at me from the driver’s seat. “Do not touch her.” That wasn’t a plea. It was a lethal warning. “Boss! Are you okay?!” Old Xu stumbled over, his face the color of ash, his eyes filled with pure terror. As my knees gave out and I collapsed onto the concrete, I finally realized it wasn’t my imagination. He really, truly wanted to kill me. 4 Arthur Sterling had never been a saint. He was a guy who didn’t even finish middle school, yet clawed his way to his current empire. He was ruthless to others, but infinitely more ruthless to himself. When I was six, my garbage father used the excuse of taking me out to play to secretly meet up with his first love. While they were rolling around in a hotel suite, Arthur was stuck babysitting me in the living room, watching Tom and Jerry. I didn’t understand why weird groaning noises were coming from the bedroom. I asked curiously, “Arthur, what are my dad and that lady doing?” He cranked the TV volume up to the max and covered my ears. “It’s dirty. Don’t listen.” He was only a year older than me, but he took care of me flawlessly. It wasn’t because he liked me so much. It was because his mother told him that if he kept me quiet and distracted, she’d give him twenty bucks. That twenty bucks was his entire allowance for the week. When I was fourteen, my dad eloped with Arthur’s mom. My mother completely lost her mind. She set a fire and burned our house to the ground. Arthur was the one who carried me out of the inferno. Half of his arm still bears the burn scars from that night. He had no money for tuition, so he dropped out of school to work manual labor. I took a baseball bat and smashed his tiny, rundown apartment to pieces. I paid him $5,000 for the damages. He still refused to go back to school. Instead, he went to Yunnan to buy and trade medicinal herbs and local goods. He used the very first real paycheck he earned to buy me a princess dress. That year, I was fifteen. He was sixteen. My mother was hysterical. “Your father ran off with that slut, and you’re still hanging around the bastard she spawned!” “You really are your father’s child. I should have strangled you the moment you were born.” Logically, I probably should have taken my mother’s side. But tragically, Arthur was the one who raised me. During the years my dad was busy cheating and my mom was busy hunting him down, I lived like a complete outcast. Arthur was the only one who stayed by my side, expecting nothing in return. He could be filthy and covered in dirt, but he demanded that I always be spotlessly clean. He could be beaten black and blue, but no one was allowed to lay a single finger on me. He forbade me from telling anyone we were connected; he was terrified he wouldn’t be strong enough to protect me yet. He hated seeing me cry. He would always clumsily try to wipe my tears away. He’d fiercely, aggressively order me to hold the tears in. But years later, when I truly, finally stopped crying forever… he didn’t seem all that happy about it. “Honestly, if you just cried and threw a tantrum, I’d give you whatever you wanted.” “Why do you always insist on fighting me tooth and nail?” 5 I lay in the hospital for a day and a half. Dr. Vance, an old friend, told me to stay dead. “Fine. Bring me a pack of cigarettes.” “Smoking is strictly prohibited in the hospital.” “Then I want to be discharged.” “Couldn’t you just use this as an opportunity to quit smoking?” “You call this an ‘opportunity’? I’d be better off taking the ‘opportunity’ to just die.” Dr. Vance rolled his eyes, refusing to indulge me any further. “What the hell is actually going on between you and Arthur?” “Usually, if you so much as scrape your knee, he loses his mind. This time, he hasn’t even shown his face.” I let out a cold laugh. “Finally asked, huh?” “Must have been killing you holding that in.” Leo burst into the hospital room just as I was preparing to walk out, nearly tackling me. His eyes were frantic, his face completely pale. “Mia, are you okay?!” “Why are you here?” “Are you hurt anywhere?!” “Who authorized you to come back?” “Where the fuck is Arthur?!” “Is your assignment finished?” “I’m going to kill him!” … Not a single sentence I actually wanted to hear. I kicked him hard in the shin. He didn’t dodge. He just took it, then hunched his shoulders and leaned his head down in front of me. “I’m sorry.” I smacked the back of his head lightly. “Did Old Xu tell you?” “No, I looked into it myself.” This kid was getting sharper. As he grew older, his capabilities were expanding rapidly. He actually had the guts to run background checks on me now. “How did the business in the South go?” “They can handle it.” After reporting, he still looked incredibly defiant. “There’s no way I wasn’t coming back.” I laughed, irritated. “Fine. You’re the boss.” Leo followed behind me, grumbling and acting like a pathetic, whining puppy to beg for forgiveness. And we walked straight into Arthur. His expression was completely flat, and he was holding Chloe’s hand. So, since I completely blew his cover, he wasn’t even going to bother hiding it anymore? Leo froze for a few seconds, then his face turned murderous as he lunged forward. I kicked him right back into place. Dr. Vance stood awkwardly to the side, his face cycling through a spectrum of colors. It was a spectacularly toxic standoff. “Ms. Harrison, are you feeling sick too?” Chloe’s naive, innocent voice shattered the tension. I offered her a polite smile. “Just a minor issue. What brings you here?” She looked a bit embarrassed. “I have a scar on my back. I wanted to see if they could remove it.” I nodded in understanding. “Medical technology is incredible these days. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” “A pretty, young girl like you shouldn’t have any flaws.” Chloe’s face flushed bright red. “You’re incredibly beautiful too, Ms. Harrison.” Arthur tightened his grip on her hand. “We need to go. The specialist is waiting.” “Goodbye, Ms. Harrison.” As we brushed past each other, Arthur gave me a polite, sterile nod. Perfect. The textbook definition of a casual acquaintance. On the ride back, Leo’s face was as dark as the bottom of a burned pot. I couldn’t help but tease him. “What? If I hadn’t stopped you, were you really going to brawl with Arthur right there in the hospital?” “Shouldn’t I have?!” “So you’re not afraid of him anymore?” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Mia, you need to cut him off. Completely.” Hah! Silly kid. 6 I picked Leo up out of a stairwell when I was twenty. He was eleven at the time. His biological father and stepmother had locked him out of the apartment. It was the dead of winter, and he was wearing a thin spring jacket, shivering violently, his body covered in dark bruises. He grabbed my pant leg, mumbling weakly that he was starving. So I took him home, made him a bowl of instant ramen, and tossed in a sausage. At that time, things between me and Arthur were incredibly toxic. He refused to let me get involved in his business, ordering me to stay out of it and just focus on studying. But he was constantly getting injured. I couldn’t handle it. Money. Those few miserable dollars truly drove people to the brink of death. I surrendered to my mother. I told her I was done with Arthur and was ready to come home and inherit the family business. My mother mocked me relentlessly. But she also knew perfectly well that the shares my grandparents left behind were under my exclusive control. She hated me. But she also needed me. Since she couldn’t physically force me, she recorded my surrender and played it for Arthur. Arthur didn’t believe it. He believed me. So he was consumed by self-blame. He blamed himself for not being strong enough to protect me. When the self-blame became too much, we started fighting. We fought about situations, then we fought about emotions. Then we’d make up. And the cycle would repeat. Leo was an anomaly. I sporadically fed him and looked after him for about six months. Arthur didn’t interfere, nor did he care. But because Arthur always had a cold, intimidating, emotionless expression, Leo was terrified of him. Later on, Leo’s father discovered our arrangement. His cloudy, disgusting eyes looked me up and down with blatant, filthy lust. Leo must have heard something, because he used every cent of his saved-up allowance to buy a knife. He was terrified and completely desperate. I cooked him a bowl of noodles, confiscated the knife, and told him to stay out of it. I intentionally left the door unlocked, allowing the man to break into my apartment, rip my clothes, and pin me to the bed. I watched as his wife, who had followed him, burst into the room. They started brawling, and the man plunged a knife directly into the woman’s stomach. He fled in absolute panic, grabbing all the cash from my safe on his way out. The newly installed security cameras captured the entire sequence of events in high definition. He was arrested, convicted, and given a maximum sentence. For the person I was back then, it was an absolutely flawless, perfectly executed trap. Arthur didn’t say a single word. He just sat in silence, applying medicine to my bruises. After a very long time, he finally spoke. “You never should have used yourself as bait.” “If something had gone wrong, what was I supposed to do?” Those were the words that stuck with me back then. But there was another sentence, one I didn’t truly understand until years later. He said: “You’re filthy. Go take a shower.” 7 When Arthur got home, I was sitting in the living room reading a book. “Why are you still up?” “Waiting for you.” It was a ridiculously rhetorical question. He knew perfectly well I was waiting for him. Just like I knew with absolute certainty that he would come back. No complex reason. Just the simple fact that I had pulled Chloe’s medical records. Arthur’s hand paused halfway through tossing his keys onto the table. He yanked off his tie and sat down directly across from me. “What do you want to talk about?” His absolute, unwavering composure was incredibly suffocating. I stared at him in silence. “What do you think would happen if I told Chloe everything…” Arthur’s head snapped up, his eyes radiating lethal, freezing intent. “I told you. Do not touch her.” “And if I insist on touching her? What are you going to do? Run me over without hitting the brakes?” “Mia, I won’t touch you. But I can touch a lot of other people.” That threat instantly froze the blood in my veins. The moment I stood up, the heavy book crashed onto the floor with a dull thud. I grabbed my baseball bat. “I can leave her alone.” “An arm or a leg. You choose.” Arthur stood up. After a long, intense staredown, he slowly extended his left arm. Without a microsecond of hesitation, the baseball bat came crashing down. I heard the distinct, sickening sound of bone shattering. Arthur’s face turned ash white, and a muffled groan escaped his lips. He ground his teeth together, glaring at me. He spoke, enunciating every single syllable. “Are you satisfied now?” “Get out.” He dragged his broken arm and walked toward the door. I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you really like her that much?” Arthur stopped in his tracks, answering without hesitation. “She was willing to take a knife for me. Could you do the same?” In a fraction of a second, the entire room fell dead silent. I stared at Arthur’s tense, rigid back. He turned around abruptly. His face was even paler than before. His lips moved slightly. “I…” But I just laughed. Leaning back lazily. “Absolutely not.” 8 Chloe has a massive scar on her back. A knife wound stretching from her shoulder down to her lower back. She took it for Arthur. It happened early last year. Arthur suddenly went completely rogue, aggressively sabotaging my business deals. He was willing to lose a thousand just to cost me eight hundred. He refused to see me, ignored my calls, and offered absolutely zero explanation or reasoning. It wasn’t until three months later that someone leaked the truth to me. He had been ambushed and severely injured, and he was convinced I was the one who orchestrated the hit. The sheer, catastrophic absurdity of it actually made me laugh out loud. I spent a week tracking down exactly what happened and threw the actual culprits directly at Arthur’s feet. He sat in silence for a long time, then violently rubbed his face. “My fault.” “I lost my damn mind.” “So you think that’s the exact moment our trust completely collapsed?” I didn’t answer the man’s question. Staring straight ahead, I asked flatly: “When Arthur suddenly transferred to the exact same elementary school as me… did you orchestrate that?” “Yeah.” “Why?” “To manipulate you, obviously. His mom wanted to marry into the family, so she had to conquer us one by one. She always said that kid was a natural-born manipulator. He knew exactly what to say to whoever he was talking to. If he wanted to, he could flawlessly manipulate anyone into doing exactly what he wanted.” Just like he did with me. He would tie my shoelaces, fight off the fat kid who bullied me, carry me home through the snow, and when we dropped food on the ground, he would eat the dirty piece and give me the only clean piece of chocolate. The man took a long drag of his cigarette, squinting into the sunlight. “I remember you used to pack your backpack full of expensive snacks and fruit every single day. That was all for him, wasn’t it?” “See? Once he latched onto you, he didn’t even have to bother charming the old ladies in his neighborhood for scraps anymore.” Having heard exactly what I wanted to hear, I stood up, ready to leave. “Hey.” The man called out to stop me. “I’m out of cash. Wire me some more.” “Wait until next month.” The man’s face turned dark and hostile. “I am your father.” “And that is exactly why I pay your alimony every single month.” “That pathetic amount of money isn’t even enough to cover my food! The inheritance your grandparents left behind was supposed to be mine! I’m not dead yet, what right do you have to inherit it?! If you don’t give me the money, I’m flying back to the country.” A cold smirk curled my lips. “No problem. The second your foot touches the tarmac, I will have you thrown directly into federal prison.” The man gritted his teeth, glaring at me with pure venom. Suddenly, a malicious, twisted smile flashed across his face. “Do you want to know why his mother didn’t leave him a single cent when she eloped with me?” “Because he told her he actually liked you, and he refused to manipulate you anymore.” “If he actually ended up with you, his mother’s chances of marrying into a billionaire family would be completely destroyed. Of course she tried to ruin him.” “Tsk. How exactly did his mother put it? Oh, right. ‘You think you’re so tough? Here’s ten bucks. That should be enough to keep you alive, right?’” “That kid had a spine of steel. He didn’t beg or apologize once.” Instantly, my expression turned to ice. “Congratulations. You just lost half of your allowance for next month.” On the flight back, I didn’t say a single word. Leo kept looking at me with deep concern. “Mia, every time you see him, you get incredibly depressed. Why do you keep going back?” Why? Leo didn’t understand. Honestly, in the beginning, I didn’t understand either. Until the man himself brutally pointed it out. “What exactly are you hoping to hear?” “Are you hoping I’ll tell you that every nice thing he ever did for you was completely fake?” “Are you trying to prove to yourself that the only reason he doesn’t love you now is because he never truly loved you to begin with?” “Mia, you are a pathetic, hopeless romantic!” Because his insults were incredibly vile, I slashed his allowance in half that month too. This man was my father—the man who eloped with Arthur’s mother. My mother was a certified, hopeless romantic. Even after my father eloped with another woman, she continued to wire a massive sum of money to his offshore account every single month. She worked herself to the bone managing the corporation, fiercely protecting the Harrison family empire. And in the end, she pulled the ultimate, dramatic stunt. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she refused treatment, letting herself slowly die. Her final, dramatic parting words were: “I release you, and I release myself.” My father’s official review of her tragic death was: “She was fucking insane!” What love did they actually have? It was an arranged marriage. If he refused, he’d be entirely cut off from the family fortune. Even I was conceived via IVF. In my father’s eyes, my mother was just a random NPC in his life. He felt utterly, inherently entitled to every single cent she gave him. I couldn’t stand seeing him live so comfortably. The very month my mother died, I completely severed his funding. He screamed, threw tantrums, and cursed me violently. He said I would die a horrible death. He said I was making the ancestors roll in their graves. I just laughed. Let them roll. They deserved it. The month after I cut off his funding, Arthur’s mother abandoned my father and ran off with someone else. Years ago, because his family cut off his funds, my father abandoned Arthur’s mother—his first love—and married my mother. Now, because of the exact same lack of funds, Arthur’s mother abandoned my father. Watching this spectacularly poetic karma play out, I practically applauded. Let them destroy each other. I only had one rule: They were permanently banned from returning to the country.

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The day I found out I wasn’t the biological daughter of the family, I was ecstatic. I righteously told my adoptive father that I felt terrible occupying his real daughter’s place and offered to pack my bags and move out immediately. My adoptive father remained noncommittal and called me into his study. He pulled out a legal document. “Mia, the Harrison family has decided to officially adopt you. Your biological parents have already signed the papers.” My biological parents, without even seeing me once, had sold me. I fell silent, resisting. “I’m an adult. I don’t need to be adopted.” My adoptive father gave a cold smile. “That’s not up to you.” 1 Because my negotiations had failed a few days prior, I wasn’t in a good mood the day the real heiress returned. My adoptive father named her Chloe Harrison. Chloe was dark-skinned, painfully thin, and her eyes darted around nervously. When the butler introduced her to the family, she burst into tears. “Mom, Dad, I’m home.” My adoptive father smiled through his tears. “It’s good to have you back.” My aunt fussed over her, saying she had suffered for over twenty years. Chloe looked at my adoptive mother, whose reaction was noticeably cold. My adoptive mother and I were probably the only two people in the house who didn’t welcome her. Yet, her malice was directed solely at me. She praised my looks, my clothes, how well-fed and well-rested I looked—unlike her. I leaned against my adoptive mother, watching her perform. She wanted everyone’s sympathy, but unfortunately for her, she didn’t see the expressions on my father and aunt’s faces souring. Her tactics were too clumsy. Taking a cue from my father, the butler interrupted her, offering to show her to her prepared room. Chloe refused to go, rambling on before finally revealing her true objective. She wanted the largest bedroom in the house, aside from the master suite. She asked me pitifully, “Sister, is that okay? I’ve never had my own room growing up…” She assumed I was the pampered princess who definitely had the biggest and best room. I almost laughed out loud. She was asking the wrong person. Because the best room in the house belonged to my aunt. 2 Seeing that I ignored her, Chloe tried to press the issue, but my aunt had heard enough. She grabbed Chloe firmly. “Chloe, Mia’s room isn’t that big. The room Auntie prepared for you is definitely bigger than hers.” Chloe was too easy to read. My aunt’s words immediately placated her, and she obediently followed my aunt upstairs. After she left, my adoptive mother glared at my father. “Why did you bring her back? You should have just paid her off.” My father smiled reassuringly. “She’s your daughter. I believe she won’t be any less capable than Mia. She just needs some grooming.” My adoptive mother’s expression darkened. “I only have one daughter. If you want Chloe, then let Mia go.” My father naturally refused, and they parted on bad terms. Chloe grew up in a poor rural village; her worldview, education, and posture were all lacking. To bridge the gap, my father hired private tutors for her. They taught her humanities, etiquette, and beauty. After six months of polishing, the Harrison family finally accepted her. My father threw a welcome banquet for her, publicly announcing her as the long-lost second daughter of the Harrison family. He made no mention of me. Chloe was resentful. In her newly acquired social circles, she spread the rumor that I wasn’t a biological Harrison. I didn’t care. Honestly, the social circles above us didn’t care, and the circles below us wouldn’t dare mess with me even if they knew. If they knew, they knew. What I didn’t expect was that my fiancé cared very much. 3 After the welcome banquet, my aunt began taking Chloe to various exclusive gatherings she couldn’t access on her own. Because it involved mingling with different men, I called it matchmaking. Initially, my aunt was dissatisfied with Chloe’s performance, calling her dull and stupid, unable to even hold a man’s attention. Chloe felt wronged for a while but eventually pulled herself together and continued to navigate the social scene. Eventually, she managed to hook a decent rich kid. She proudly brought him home to show off to me. He was 6’2″, handsome, wealthy—definitely easy on the eyes. My father hosted him for a casual dinner and then politely saw him out. As soon as he left, my aunt dragged Chloe into the study and scolded her: “Idiot! He’s only good enough for practice! And you actually offered yourself to him?!” Chloe broke down. Why was everything she did wrong? She yelled at my aunt, “Why do I have to do these things?! Why doesn’t Mia?!” Look at her. Even now, she couldn’t see the big picture; she only cared about competing with me. My aunt told her, “Mia already has a fiancé. She doesn’t need to go.” Yes, the “matchmaking events” Chloe attended? I had been to them too. But Chloe clearly only understood the first half of the sentence. It was probably from that moment on that Chloe set her sights on Julian Vance. 4 The Harrison family and the Vance family belonged to the same social circle, sharing half the corporate influence in Chengdu. The other half belonged to the Sterling family. The Sterling family’s main operations were in Beijing; the Chengdu branch was just a subsidiary. The drive from Chengdu to Beijing was only two hours, but the difference in status was astronomical. The Harrison family wanted to break into high society; the Vance family wanted to push the Sterling subsidiary out of Chengdu. Though their goals differed, they naturally decided to collaborate. After years of negotiations, they finally reached an agreement a year ago. My engagement to Julian Vance was the bridge. When Chloe had her welcome banquet, Julian was still abroad. Their first meeting was at my birthday party. He had been stationed overseas for a year and returned exactly on my birthday. He made a grand entrance, bringing a multi-million dollar piece of jewelry he’d won at an overseas auction to celebrate my birthday. A display of how much he valued me. I feigned delight, accepting the gift and letting him put it on me. As the beautiful jewelry sparkled on my neck, I turned and saw the gleam in Chloe’s eyes. She coyly approached to greet him, calling him “Brother-in-law.” Julian barely glanced at her, exchanging a few polite but distant pleasantries. At that time, Julian probably didn’t think much of her. My birthday banquet was supposed to end perfectly amidst praises of us being the golden couple. But halfway through, Arthur Sterling, the future heir of the Sterling family, sent a gift. It pushed the banquet to a whole new climax. 5 My history with Arthur wasn’t a secret; anyone who mattered in Chengdu knew about it. I used to be a famous socialite. My aunt started bringing me to various events when I was just a teenager. At first, she was quite protective, shielding me from things inappropriate for my age. But when the stakes were high enough, the bottom line could always be lowered. She made me attend Arthur’s coming-of-age ceremony. I wasn’t supposed to qualify for the guest list, but my aunt used all her connections to force me in. Young Arthur, like an emperor selecting a concubine among many girls, chose me. Before entering the banquet hall, I thought it was just a formality. My aunt told me a crucial family project had run into issues, threatening the company’s entire cash flow. One wrong move, and our family would face bankruptcy. Getting into Arthur’s ceremony and letting the social circle see me at a high-society event would naturally bring people begging to help us. I believed her. I went in carrying the mission of saving my family. When Arthur chose me for private company, I was surprised, but mostly excited. What a great opportunity. I introduced myself and my family’s company to him. I talked endlessly, extremely excited, until he pushed me down. He possessed me with a cold face. It hurt so much. But he was the young master of a top-tier wealthy family; I didn’t dare resist. I only dared to cry out in pain to hide my tears. That was the moment I realized. Coming-of-age ceremony, coming-of-age ceremony… I was the gift. After that night, my adoptive father acquired a piece of land from the Sterling family. Later, Chengdu’s most luxurious residential complex was built on that land. As compensation, my adoptive father let me pick an apartment in that complex. So, when Chloe cried to us that her adoptive parents were going to marry her off to a forty-something middle-aged man just to get a dowry for her brother… I didn’t care. It wasn’t just poor people; rich people sold their daughters too. The only difference was the price tag. Sadly, some daughters labor until death for the families that sold them, just like my aunt. The fact that she still commanded the best room in her maiden home even after marrying was something she earned herself. 6 It was very late that night when the Sterling family driver finally took me home. When my adoptive mother saw my disheveled state, she realized what had happened. She had a massive fight with my adoptive father. It was during their argument that I learned there was no failing project. There was no impending bankruptcy. There was only their greedy ambition to climb the social ladder. I was devastated, but my adoptive mother was even more so. She had lived in this house for nearly twenty years, and only today did she truly see the Harrison family’s true colors. She felt too ashamed to face me and used her company shares to force my adoptive father to send me abroad. She wanted to protect me. Eventually, my adoptive father compromised, and I was sent away a month later. But what he didn’t tell my adoptive mother was that he sent me straight to Arthur. Arthur was too valuable an asset; he couldn’t bear to let go. Fortunately, Arthur’s reach wasn’t that long. Coupled with the fact that Arthur hadn’t shown much interest in me since that night. Abroad, although I attended the same university as Arthur, I rarely ran into him unless I actively sought him out. My aunt constantly called to ask about my progress with Arthur. At first, I humored her. Eventually, I stopped answering her calls. I was no longer the little girl who obeyed her every command. I lived peacefully abroad for four years, studying fashion design, which I loved. That period was one of the few relaxed times in my life. After graduation, I originally planned to find a job as a tailor locally. But after learning my adoptive mother had attempted suicide due to severe depression, I dropped everything and returned home. 7 As long as I returned to the country, I was meat on the chopping block. My adoptive father and aunt always found ways to make me live according to their plans. After my adoptive mother’s condition stabilized, my aunt started taking me to those “matchmaking events.” The insults she hurled at Chloe, she had also hurled at me. But my skin was thicker than Chloe’s; she could curse all she wanted, I just coasted along. For a time, the wealthy circles in Chengdu whispered that I was nothing but a beautiful, empty shell. The “matchmaking events” were endless. I realized my aunt wouldn’t stop until she managed to sell me off. If I chose an ordinary rich kid, I might still be manipulated by my aunt and adoptive father. During a gathering at a bar, I saw Arthur, who had just returned to the country. I decided to go all in and approached him directly. That was the only time I took the initiative since the night of his coming-of-age ceremony. We slept together that very night. From that day on, I became Arthur’s official girlfriend. Seeing me hook up with Arthur, my adoptive father and aunt were overjoyed. They reaped numerous benefits and treated me with extreme caution, never daring to order me around again. My adoptive mother also received better care. Unfortunately, I only held that title for three years. Three years later, Arthur was set to get engaged to Elara Qiao, the daughter of another wealthy family in Beijing. The Harrison family couldn’t compare to the Sterling family, and certainly couldn’t afford to offend the Qiao family. I initiated the breakup with Arthur. He didn’t say much; he just gave me a few buildings as compensation. Then, he picked an auspicious day and got engaged to Elara.

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The company was selling for two million dollars, and I was the absolute last person to find out. That morning, I went to work just like any other day. But when I pushed open the glass door to the conference room, it was packed. Carter Prescott sat at the head of the long mahogany table, flanked by three strangers in impeccably tailored suits. When he saw me, a micro-expression flickered across his eyes. A sudden, nervous shifting of the tectonic plates beneath his polished exterior. “Tessa, could you hold off on whatever you’re doing? We won’t be needing you in here.” I froze in the doorway. Splayed open on the center of the table was a thick legal document. I was only close enough to make out the bolded header at the top of the page. Letter of Intent for Equity Acquisition. 1. My name is Tessa Gallagher, and I am twenty-nine years old. Three years ago, I was a junior accountant at a no-name firm, pulling in maybe four thousand dollars a month. I rented a cramped, drafty apartment and spent two hours every day staring at the bleak tunnel walls of the L train commute. Carter Prescott was an older guy from my college. He had graduated four years ahead of me—a former frat president, the charismatic golden boy everyone assumed was destined to conquer the corporate world. We weren’t close. After graduation, we occasionally exchanged pleasantries in the alumni Facebook group. Nothing more. Until one night, three years ago, when he asked me out to dinner out of the blue. “Tessa, I’m launching a startup. Direct-to-consumer e-commerce,” he said, casually swirling his bourbon. The ice clinked against the glass, a sharp, confident sound. “You’re a numbers girl. You want in?” I blinked, taken aback. “Carter, I… I don’t know the first thing about e-commerce.” “You don’t need to.” He offered a brilliant, disarming smile. “You manage the money, I manage the business. We go fifty-fifty.” Fifty-fifty. Those two words dropped like heavy stones into the stagnant pond of my life. I was in a dark place back then. I had just gone through a brutal breakup, my job was a dead-end spreadsheet nightmare, and I was walking through my days in a gray, numbing fog, wondering if this was all life had to offer. Carter’s words felt like a lifeline. A blinding beam of light. “I don’t have much capital, Carter,” I admitted, my voice small. “How much do you have?” “In savings? Maybe… fifteen grand.” He nodded slowly. “Not enough. Seed capital needs to be at least two hundred thousand.” My heart plummeted into my stomach. “But—” He leaned across the table, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ll put up a hundred, and you put up a hundred. Whatever you’re short, maybe you can borrow from your folks.” Borrow from my folks. My parents were blue-collar workers. They had spent their entire lives scraping by, clipping coupons, putting away whatever meager dollars they could. And yet, my heart was racing. Fifty-fifty. My own boss. A chance to completely rewrite the trajectory of my life. Those phrases echoed in my skull all night, keeping me wide awake. The next morning, I called my mother. “Mom, I want to start a business.” The line was quiet for a long, agonizing stretch. “How much do you need?” “…A hundred thousand.” She didn’t yell. She didn’t interrogate me. A week later, the funds cleared into my checking account. Only much later did I learn the anatomy of that money. It was their entire retirement fund. It was loans begged from skeptical aunts and uncles. It was a second mortgage taken out on the small, vinyl-sided house I grew up in. A hundred thousand dollars. My parents had never seen that much money in their entire lives. They placed it in my hands. And I placed it in Carter’s. The day we signed the paperwork, Carter took me to an upscale steakhouse to celebrate. “Come on, Tessa. Drink up! To our partnership!” I was a lightweight, but I was riding such a high that night. Every time he raised his glass to me, I drank. One glass. Two. Three. The rest of the evening blurred at the edges, smudged like wet ink. I only remember him sliding a stack of stapled papers across the white tablecloth. “Just sign here. It’s just a formality.” I squinted at the pages. The dense, microscopic legalese swam before my eyes under the dim, moody restaurant lighting. “What is this exactly…?” “The equity agreement.” He practically placed the heavy, gold-trimmed pen into my fingers. “See right there? Your hundred grand buys fifty percent. It’s all spelled out in black and white.” I took the pen. I signed my name. He smiled, a wide, triumphant thing, slipping the papers back into his leather briefcase before clapping a warm hand on my shoulder. “From today on, Tessa, we’re partners.” Partners. I believed that word with my whole soul for three years. Getting the company off the ground was a nightmare. We leased a tiny, windowless six-hundred-square-foot office that baked in the July heat and felt like a meat locker in January. Carter handled the sourcing and client relations; I ran the finances, the payroll, the inventory logs. Along with two part-time customer service reps, we were the entire operation. I arrived at eight in the morning and rarely saw the outside of the building before midnight. My salary? Zero. Carter had told me, “We’re in the trenches right now. We shouldn’t pull salaries until we’re safely in the black.” It made sense to me. It was my company, too. The exhaustion would pay off. The blood and sweat were investments. In our first year, we bled thirty thousand dollars. Carter was a wreck, pacing the floor, pulling his hair out, fueled by black coffee and sheer panic. “Tessa, how much runway do we have left?” “Less than forty grand in the operating account.” He lit a cigarette right there in the office, staring at me through the blue smoke. “Do you have any personal cash left?” I hesitated. “I… I have a little.” It was a downpayment I had been secretly saving for a modest condo. Thirty thousand dollars. “Could you float it to the company?” He stubbed the cigarette out violently. “Just as a bridge loan. Once we bounce back, I’ll pay you back double.” I didn’t answer right away. “Tessa, I know I have no right to ask this.” He sighed, running a hand over his face, looking older, broken. “But we are partners. If this ship sinks, we both drown.” Partners. There was that word again. The next morning, I wired thirty thousand dollars into the corporate account. Carter texted me: “Thank you. I owe you. I won’t forget this.” I won’t forget this. I believed him. In year two, we finally hit profitability. In year three, our revenue tripled. At the beginning of this year, Carter pulled me aside and mentioned, offhand, that a larger conglomerate was sniffing around, looking to acquire us. “How much are they offering?” I asked, my pulse quickening. “Still hashing out the details.” He gave me a sly, conspiratorial grin. “But it won’t be a small number, I promise you that.” I thought the golden days had finally arrived. I thought three years of relentless, grinding sacrifice were about to bear fruit. I thought— Until today. Standing in the doorway of the conference room, staring at the letter of intent. Two million dollars. The company was worth two million. I put in a hundred thousand for fifty percent. My cut should be one million dollars. Plus the thirty thousand bridge loan. One million, thirty thousand dollars. I could finally pay my parents back. I could clear their mortgage. I could buy that condo. I could breathe. But the way Carter was looking at me—his eyes cold, flat, devoid of the warmth he usually weaponized—made the hairs on my arms stand up. “Tessa, wait outside,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it had the sharp, unforgiving edge of a guillotine. I stood rooted to the carpet. I didn’t move. “Outside.” I looked at him. I looked at the three men in suits. I looked at the papers on the table. “Carter, I’m a shareholder. Why am I being excluded from this meeting?” The room went dead silent for one agonizing second. Carter laughed. It was a strange, hollow sound. The kind of laugh you’d give a toddler who just said something absurdly naive. “A shareholder?” He pushed his chair back and stood up, walking slowly toward me. “Tessa, since when were you a shareholder?” 2. The words didn’t compute. My brain refused to process the syllables. “Carter, what did you just say?” He sighed, a heavy, performative exhalation of patience, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “The boardroom isn’t the place for this. My office. Now.” He turned, offered a slick apology to the suits, and practically herded me down the hallway. My mind was a violent storm of static. Since when were you a shareholder? Three years ago, he said it to my face. Fifty-fifty. I put up the cash. I signed the contract. I— “Sit.” Carter’s corner office was ten times the size of our original freezing room. Genuine leather sofas. A massive oak desk. Floor-to-ceiling windows framing the jagged, beautiful Chicago skyline. Half of this belonged to me. Didn’t it? I sat down, my knees shaking slightly, and looked up at him. “Carter, the company is being acquired. Why was I kept in the dark?” “It’s strictly confidential business information.” “I am an equity partner.” Carter opened a sleek mahogany drawer and pulled out a manila folder, dropping it onto the desk in front of me. “Read it yourself.” My fingers trembled as I flipped the cover open. Inside was a contract. My name. My signature. But the title at the top of the page— “A Promissory Note?” My voice cracked, fragile and thin in the vast, quiet room. The black ink was damning. It clearly stated: Tessa Gallagher loans Carter Prescott the sum of $100,000, at an annual interest rate of 6%, for a term of three years. What loan? I signed an equity agreement! “Carter, this is wrong. I signed an operating agreement. One hundred thousand for fifty percent equity—” “Read it again. Carefully,” he said, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. I stared at the paper, reading word by agonizing word. Borrower: Carter Prescott. Lender: Tessa Gallagher. Principal Amount: $100,000. Term: 36 Months. Interest: 6% APR. Repayment: Lump sum of principal and accrued interest at maturity. At the very bottom, my signature. It was my handwriting. Unmistakable. But I remembered… The memory crashed into me like a physical blow. The steakhouse. The clinking glasses. The toasts. The alcohol softening the edges of the room. He had pushed the papers toward me. Just sign here. It’s just a formality. I had squinted at the dense text, the letters swaying under the dim lights… “Coming back to you?” Carter’s voice pulled me out of the flashback. I looked up at him, my vision blurring with hot, furious tears. “You set me up.” “What do you mean, set you up?” He leaned back in his plush executive chair, crossing his legs casually. “It’s right there in black and white. You signed it yourself. How is that a setup?” “You got me drunk—” “I bought you dinner. You drank of your own free will. Is that my fault?” “You told me it was an equity agreement—” “It doesn’t matter what I said, Tessa. It matters what’s in the contract.” He smiled, a tight, patronizing smirk, like a professor lecturing a freshman who had failed an open-book exam. “You’re an accountant, Tessa. You work in finance. You of all people should know to read a contract before you put your name on it. That’s just basic common sense, isn’t it?” Ice flooded my veins. Three years. Three entire years of my youth. I thought I was an owner. I was just a creditor. I thought we were partners. I was just unpaid labor. I thought… “You—” I opened my mouth, but the words withered in my throat. A massive, suffocating lump formed, choking off my air. Carter picked up a silver pen from his desk and twirled it between his fingers. “Alright, glad we cleared that up. A hundred grand principal, plus three years of six percent interest. That comes out to $118,000. I’ll cut you a check for every last cent.” A hundred and eighteen thousand dollars. I gave him a hundred grand, poured three years of my blood and sanity into this place, and I was walking away with eighteen thousand dollars in “profit.” While he was pocketing two million dollars. And keeping all of it. “What about the thirty thousand?” My voice sounded like dry leaves scraping across concrete. “What thirty thousand?” “Our first year. We almost went under. I gave the company thirty thousand dollars.” “Ah, right. That thirty grand.” He nodded slowly. “I remember. I drafted a note for that one, too.” He opened another drawer and pulled out a second sheet of paper. Borrower: The Company. Lender: Tessa Gallagher. Principal: $30,000. Term: 12 Months. Interest: 5%. Twelve months? That had expired two years ago. “The company already paid that back.” “What? No, I never received—” “It was wired to your personal account. Check your bank app.” With trembling, clumsy fingers, I pulled out my phone. I opened my banking app, scrolling furiously back through the digital archives to two years ago. There it was. Incoming Transfer: $31,500. Memo: Loan Repayment. I had absolutely no memory of seeing it. Back then, I was managing hundreds of incoming and outgoing transactions a day for the business. I was so exhausted I was practically sleepwalking. I never even checked my personal balances… “See?” Carter stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning his back to me. “Tessa, because we go way back, because we’re alumni, I calculated the interest perfectly. Down to the penny. If you were anyone else, I would have found a way to bleed you dry.” He turned back to face me, his silhouette framed by the blinding city sky. “What more do you want?” I sat there, my entire body vibrating. It wasn’t the cold. It was pure, unadulterated rage. Three years. I hadn’t taken a single vacation day. I hadn’t received a single paycheck. I had bet my parents’ retirement, the kindness of my relatives, and my childhood home on this company. And him? He was walking away with two million dollars, without tossing me a single crumb. He called me a creditor. He said black and white. He said— “Carter.” My voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “Where is my salary for the last three years?” “What salary?” “I worked here for three years. Full-time. I never took a dime.” “You agreed to that. You said we shouldn’t pull salaries until we were established.” “Did you pull a salary?” Carter flinched. Just barely. “I’m the CEO—” “How much did you pay yourself?” “That’s confidential corporate—” “I did the books, Carter. You cut yourself five thousand dollars a month.” I stood up, locking eyes with him. “Three years. A hundred and eighty thousand dollars. And that’s not counting your ‘business expenses,’ the luxury dinners, the consulting fees, the mileage.” “You—” “If I wasn’t an owner, if I wasn’t a partner, why the hell did you get a salary and I didn’t?” Carter’s face hardened, the charming mask finally slipping to reveal the ugliness underneath. “Don’t push your luck, Tessa.” “I’m pushing my luck?” I took a step toward him. “You trick me into signing a loan, you steal my equity, you work me like a dog for free for three years, and I’m pushing my luck?” “Trick you? Where’s your proof?” He closed the distance between us, towering over me, looking down his nose. “Let me teach you a lesson about the real world, Tessa. Without proof, it never happened.” “You said fifty-fifty—” “Hearsay.” “You said we were partners—” “Not on the paper.” “You handed it to me and called it an equity agreement—” “You didn’t read it. Whose fault is that?” With every word, an icy anchor dragged my heart deeper into the abyss. He was right. I had no proof. I didn’t record him. I had no text messages confirming the split. I had no witnesses. All I had was a legally binding promissory note with my signature on it. And a shattered, foolish heart. “Get out.” Carter walked over and pulled the heavy oak door open. “I’ll wire the $118,000 next week. Take the money, and don’t ever come back here.” I stood frozen in the center of the room. “Unless—” He let out a dark, mocking chuckle. “You want to sue me?” Sue him. Could I win? He had the contracts. He had the bank statements. He had the “black and white.” What did I have? “Tessa, because you did me a solid in the early days, I’ll give you one last piece of advice.” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh, condescending whisper. “You were a community college transfer. If I hadn’t dragged you up with me, do you really think you’d be sitting in a high-rise right now? Know your place. Take the cash and walk away. It’s better for everyone.” Community college transfer. Dragged you up. Know your place. The words slid into my ribs like a switchblade. I turned on my heel and walked out of his office. I didn’t look back. I didn’t know what I was going to do next. But I knew one thing with absolute, terrifying clarity. This wasn’t over. 3. It was nine o’clock at night by the time I unlocked the door to my apartment. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just collapsed onto the sofa, staring blankly up at the popcorn ceiling, letting the silence press against my eardrums. One image kept playing in my head on a torturous loop. Carter pushing that contract across the white tablecloth, his pearly smile glinting. “Black and white.” I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to mentally rewind to that night three years ago. The restaurant. The private booth. The low, amber lighting. He kept pouring the wine. “Come on, Tessa, to our partnership. Drink up.” “Carter, I really shouldn’t have more…” “Nonsense, we’re celebrating! Just a sip.” One glass. Two glasses. Three. My memory was hazy, fractured. He slid the papers across the table. “Just sign here. It’s just a formality.” “What is this…?” “The equity agreement. Look, a hundred grand gets you fifty percent.” I had taken the pen. But had I actually read it? The letters had been a blurry swarm of black ants. All I registered were the numbers “$100,000” and “50%”… My eyes snapped open in the dark. Wait. He had said the words “equity agreement.” He had said “50%.” But what was actually printed on that specific piece of paper I signed? I scrambled off the couch, tearing into my bedroom closet, pulling out the fireproof lockbox where I kept my copies of the paperwork. I found the file. Promissory Note. Black and white. But if the paper in my hand was a promissory note, what happened to the “equity agreement” he kept talking about? Staring at the crisp legal document, a sickening realization washed over me. What if there never was an equity agreement? What if he had planned to defraud me from the very first dinner? My phone buzzed on the nightstand, jarring me. Mom. I stared at the glowing screen, my throat constricting. I didn’t know how to speak to her. “Hey, Mom,” I managed to croak. “Did you eat?” “How are things at the office?” she chirped, completely bypassing the small talk. “Carter told me the company is getting acquired! Does that mean you get a big payout?” The blood drained from my face. “Mom… how do you know about the acquisition?” “Carter told me! He called me a couple of days ago to thank me again for supporting your startup.” Carter called my mother? “What… what exactly did he say?” “He said the business is doing incredible, and it’s all thanks to your hard work. He told me not to worry about a thing. He said once the sale goes through, you’re going to get a massive payday, and we can finally pay off the mortgage on the house.” My hand gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white. He called my mother to tell her I was getting a payout. While planning to look me dead in the eye and tell me I was nothing but a creditor. What the hell was he playing at? “Tessa? Honey, are you there?” “I’m here… Mom, I have to go. Something came up at work.” I hung up the phone and sank to the floor, my back against the bedframe. Why would he call my mother?

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I bought four roasted duck legs, and my son ate two of them. When he saw me pick one up for myself, his face flushed with anxiety. “Why didn’t you save any for Dad?” I was confused. “There’s still one left for him on the plate, isn’t there?” He was on the verge of tears, reaching out to snatch the duck leg I had just taken a bite of. “Couldn’t you have saved two for Dad?” I froze. So in his eyes, I had no right to eat the duck legs I had personally bought and cooked? 1 For a moment, I couldn’t believe the words coming out of the son I had raised with my own two hands. I thought maybe he just hadn’t seen clearly. I explained to him, “There were four in total. You had two, I’m having one, and we saved one for Dad.” He dodged the point. “Well, why didn’t you tell me?” I was baffled. “Tell you what?” He raised his voice, shouting, “You were supposed to tell me before you ate it! How else was I supposed to know you took one?” I was struggling to understand. “I have to ask for your permission to eat a duck leg now?” His face turned crimson with anger. “Are you crazy? Stop changing the subject and answer my question! Why didn’t you save more for Dad?” I pointed to the plate. “I did. There’s one right there.” He looked as if he’d been deeply wronged, wiping away tears as he said resentfully, “Why didn’t you save two for him?” I was dumbstruck. So he wasn’t bad at math. I suppressed my anger and questioned him, “So, in your opinion, is Mommy not even allowed to eat a single duck leg?” He didn’t answer, just stood there with his chin up and his neck stiff, looking sympathetically toward his father. “Dad works so hard every day, of course he should get an extra one. You could just eat something else. Why do you have to fight him for it? Can’t you stop being so selfish for once?” At this, my husband, Mark, who had been sitting by silently, grinned and pushed the plate of duck legs closer to our son, Alex. Alex’s eyes immediately welled up again, his lip trembling as if his suffering had just been validated. It finally clicked. I looked at the child I had painstakingly raised, my voice filled with disbelief. “So Mommy doesn’t work hard? Mommy goes to work every day, does all the housework, and takes care of you. Isn’t Mommy tired? Doesn’t she deserve to eat one single duck leg?” He said nothing, just kept wiping his tears away. Seeing this, my husband finally decided to speak, playing the peacemaker. “Alright, alright, why are you arguing with a child? He’s so young, what does he know? He’s just fooling around with you.” 2 I stared silently at the dishes on the table. Every day after work, I’d rush to the market, always picking the freshest, most expensive ingredients, terrified that anything less would affect my son’s health. Then I’d race back home to get dinner on the table before he returned from school, just so he wouldn’t have to wait hungry. Every morning, a neatly folded set of clean clothes was waiting for him by his bed. The house was always spotless, a result of me fighting off sleep every night to clean. The snacks, the fruit, the household supplies—they never ran out, and he never once wondered where they came from. He was used to it, so he never saw it. He only saw his father leaving early and coming home late from “work.” A knot of pain tightened in my chest. I couldn’t help but ask him, “Mommy is very tired and works very hard, too.” He pushed the plate back toward his father, his tone dismissive. “You barely make any money. How hard can your job be?” “Dad is the pillar of this family. He’s the one who works the hardest.” My eyes locked onto my husband, Mark. He looked away guiltily, forcing a laugh. “Anna, don’t take it out on the kid.” His job was a cushy, low-stress position, and his salary was significantly lower than mine. But he’d always said that a father needed to maintain a strong, positive image to encourage his son to become a responsible, upstanding man. So, he lied to Alex about his income, inflating his own while drastically downplaying mine. I thought it was for our child’s benefit, so I never said anything. I never imagined that in my son’s eyes, his father was the sole provider, and I was just a pathetic freeloader who didn’t even deserve a duck leg. The thought made my anger boil over. I swept my arm across the table, sending dishes crashing to the floor. “Then nobody eats!” Mark gasped. “Anna! Are you insane?” I laughed coldly. “If I don’t go insane, I’ll probably end up not being allowed to eat at all in this house.” My son shrieked and hid behind Mark. “The tigress is on a rampage again!” Tigress? Is that what they called me behind my back? Mark looked uncomfortable and turned away, pretending to scold our son. “How can you talk about your mother like that?” Alex didn’t care. He ran over, shoved me hard, then ducked back behind his father and made a face at me. A chilling cold spread through my heart. This was the child I had carried for ten months and raised with my own hands? When he was born, he was frail and sickly, constantly in and out of the hospital. Mark always had an excuse, an “urgent meeting,” leaving me to take him to the emergency room alone in the middle of the night. My milk supply was low, so I spent hours researching and preparing nutritious baby food to make him strong. And now, he was indeed strong. Strong enough to push me onto the sofa with one shove. It didn’t hurt physically, but my heart felt like it had been stabbed. Clutching my chest, I went back to the bedroom. 3 Lying in bed, I couldn’t understand how things had gotten to this point. Mark had stopped “working late” around the time Alex started recognizing faces. He’d come home early, bringing little toys and playing wildly with Alex until I had dinner ready. Then, his tone would change. “Okay, okay, time to eat, or Mommy’s going to get angry.” And the two of them would go wash their hands, giggling together. At the time, I thought it was wonderful. I thought he was a good, family-oriented man who was willing to play with his son. But thinking back… Why was I always the villain? “Hurry up and eat, or Mommy will get mad.” “Stop fooling around, you’ll make Mommy upset.” “Still playing? Just wait until your mother comes to deal with you!” “No, Mommy won’t let you eat that.” “Mommy won’t let us go.” “Here comes Mommy to get you…” … I had never hit him, never even yelled at him. Yet “Mommy” was always the consequence, the threat that followed every restriction and every unpleasant moment. And “Daddy” had neatly extracted himself, comfortably playing the “good guy.” Soon, Mark came in to “talk” to me. Every time Alex and I had a conflict, he would play the mediator. To Alex, he’d say, “Your mom’s just got a temper. All women are like that. You be the bigger person and let it go.” To me, he’d say, “Kids don’t mean what they say. It’s our job as parents to teach them. He was so upset he was crying just now, you shouldn’t hold it against him.” My heart would ache for my son, and listening to Mark, I’d start to feel like it was my fault he wasn’t being raised right. Guilt would wash over me. I’d reflect on my actions and then go make up with Alex. Over time, this became our routine. Right now, Alex was sitting in the living room like a little prince, waiting for me to come and appease him. And Mark, as usual, started his tirade of clichés. Before, I would just stew in my anger and not pay him much attention. But this time, I watched him quietly. And I saw it. In his eyes, there was excitement. A strange sense of triumph. He was happy. He was proud that his son was so devoted to him, so much so that he would belittle and even attack his own mother. He was enjoying this. How had I never noticed it before? He talked until his mouth was dry, but it was all the same: invalidating my feelings and emotionally blackmailing me. I gradually began to see his true intention. He was showing off. Showing off how close he was with our son, while I, the actual mother, was treated with contempt. But hidden within that pride was a sliver of jealousy I couldn’t quite place. I didn’t understand. We were a family. My salary paid for them, for this home. What was he jealous of? He was the one who couldn’t handle a demanding job and chose the easier, lower-paying one. 4 After waiting a long time for me to come and grovel, Alex started throwing a tantrum in the living room, breaking things. Specifically, my things. When I walked out, he was using a small knife to slash at my handbag. Mark glanced at my face and quickly rushed over to play the good guy. “Quick, apologize to your mother. If you apologize, she won’t be mad anymore.” I picked up the ruined bag. I had worked on a project for months, and I’d used my bonus to finally treat myself to this. Alex huffed. “She makes so little, and she has the nerve to make you buy her such an expensive bag. Dad, you just spoil her too much.” I had to laugh. I threw the bag at Mark’s feet. “You bought this for me?” He avoided the question, pulling Alex behind him. “Don’t drag the child into our problems. He’s still young.” Alex was immediately moved, hugging Mark’s arm tightly. “Dad, just divorce her. We don’t need this tigress.” Mark’s expression stiffened. He cleared his throat and ruffled Alex’s hair. “What are you talking about? Mom and Dad would never get a divorce. We’d never separate, especially not for your sake.” Alex snorted in my direction. “You’re just lucky you found a husband like my dad, who’s willing to support you.” The two of them exchanged a smile. Mark ushered Alex into his room, then turned to face the mess, sighing dramatically. “Anna, you’re a mother now. Can’t you be more mature? Look at this place, what a mess.” I pressed him. “You said you bought this bag?” He looked down. “It’s just a bag. Do you really have to be so petty?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “You’re right. It’s just a bag. So buy me a new one.” He scoffed. “Fine, I’ll buy it. It’s not like I’ve never bought you anything before.” True. He had bought me things. An apron for International Women’s Day. Laundry detergent for Mother’s Day. A rice cooker for my birthday. He looked a little embarrassed, pulling out his phone to order one. “Is that what this is about? You just wanted a gift? I’ll get it for you, you don’t have to be so relentless.” But his face changed when he saw the price. He jumped to his feet. He pointed a finger at me, yelling, “Anna! How can you be so wasteful!” Hearing the commotion, Alex ran out, crossing his arms and sneering. “See? I told you. She’s just a lazy, wasteful woman.” I glared at him. He glared back defiantly. “I’m not wrong! You spend Dad’s money on bags and makeup for yourself, but you won’t even save him a duck leg! You’re so selfish! How can you be so shameless? I’m so embarrassed to have a mother like you.” 5 Without a moment’s hesitation, I slapped him across the face. He was too stunned to react, just stared at me blankly. It was the first time in his life I had ever laid a hand on him. After a few seconds, his face contorted with rage, and he pointed his finger right at my nose. “You hit me!” I slapped his pointing hand down. Furious, he tried to head-butt me. I sidestepped, and he slammed his head into a cabinet. He burst into tears. “Dad, Mommy’s bullying me! Go hit her!” Mark rushed to hug him, then roared at me, “What is wrong with you tonight? Do you have to turn this house upside down?” “Is it all because of a stupid duck leg? Fine! Alex and I won’t eat them! You can have them all, is that what you want?” I walked right up to Mark. He snorted, lifting his chin, as if waiting for me to back down and apologize. After all, I was always the one who compromised for the sake of our family, for our son. I stopped in front of him. I raised my hand. And I slapped him, hard, across the face. “I was so focused on the kid, I forgot about you.” 6 Mark looked up, stunned. “You hit me.” I picked up my ruined handbag. I had just gotten a promotion. I needed something professional for client meetings, so I had saved for a long time before finally splurging on this bag. I was always so careful with it. Now, it was covered in scratches. He felt I didn’t deserve it, just like he felt I didn’t deserve a single duck leg. I held up the bag, my eyes filled with disappointment as I looked at Mark. “Let’s get a divorce.” Children are incredibly perceptive. Mark’s tacit approval of our son’s behavior, coupled with his own teasing put-downs of me, had shown Alex that my position in the family was at the very bottom. That I could be treated however they pleased. That’s why he felt I didn’t deserve nice things. He had become this way because of his father’s influence. Mark panicked, forgetting his swollen cheek. “Honey, we were just kidding around, don’t take it so seriously. Why are you talking about divorce over something so small? Think about how it will affect Alex’s mental health.” In the past, any mention of our son would make me back down. But now, I glanced at the boy who had absolutely no room for me in his heart and let out a cold laugh. “Isn’t this what our good son suggested? Don’t you always say we should respect our child’s wishes? Well, I’m just doing what he wants.” He was speechless for a moment, then frowned at Alex. “That’s not what I meant. Look at you, always blowing things out of proportion. Can’t you take a joke?” Alex snuggled into his father’s arms, glaring at me. “Dad, don’t give her another chance. Divorce her. I’d like to see how she survives without us. She’ll regret it then.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. I looked at Mark and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure without a burden like me holding you back, the two of you will live like kings.” Alex pumped his fist in the air. “We will! And when you come crawling back, you tigress, we won’t take you back!” Mark awkwardly tried to quiet him. “That’s enough.” Alex didn’t know the truth, but Mark certainly did. I bought everything for the house. I paid for all the monthly expenses. His salary was just his own pocket money. 7 The next morning, the house was clean, and breakfast was on the table. Mark, wearing an apron, was acting as if nothing had happened. “Honey, breakfast is ready,” he said with a cheerful smile. I was taken aback. The last time he’d been this helpful was when I was pregnant. Back then, I thought I was so lucky to have found such a caring husband. After our son was born, he never set foot in the kitchen or lifted a finger to clean again. As I ate, Alex glared at me resentfully from across the table. “You’re a woman making a man do housework. Have you no shame?” “If other people find out, they’ll call Dad henpecked.” “Besides, this is all your job. Don’t keep bothering Dad. Even if he spoils you, you can’t just take it for granted. At least say thank you. You have no manners.” “Can you just stop making trouble? Let Dad have some peace. He works so hard to support us, it’s already hard enough for him.” I looked at the son I had raised for ten years, and a deep chill settled in my heart. Did he have no empathy for the mother who gave birth to him and raised him? Mark cleans the house and makes breakfast one time, and my son’s heart breaks for him. What about me? I had cooked for him for ten years—three meals a day, his clothes, his home, everything taken care of—why had he never felt sorry for me? Why had he never once said thank you? The boy I once thought was lively and cute suddenly seemed monstrous. I looked down at my plate, unable to look at him any longer. After breakfast, I walked out of the bedroom with a suitcase. Mark stared at me. “What are you doing?” I said flatly, “I’m serious about the divorce.” He rushed to grab my suitcase. “No, I don’t agree. I’m not divorcing you.” But Alex pulled on his arm, a happy look on his face. “Dad, let her go! You’re handsome, gentle, caring, and you make good money. You can find any woman you want without her.” “Let her go. Once she’s gone, she’ll realize how good she had it here. She can just wait and regret it.” I snorted and looked at Mark. He was decent-looking, I suppose. As for gentle and caring… please. I walked out the door with my suitcase. The moment it clicked shut, I could still hear Alex chattering on to his father about all the benefits of divorcing me. And on Mark’s face, a look of pure bewilderment.

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My high school nemesis, Lucas Vance, became my younger brother’s direct supervisor. He recognized my brother and frequently asked him about me, both intentionally and unintentionally. My brother knew perfectly well that Lucas and I hated each other’s guts back in school. To avoid getting caught in the crossfire and facing Lucas’s wrath, my idiot brother panicked and told him I died in a car crash. That entire day, Lucas took the elevator to the wrong floors, burned himself pouring hot water, and stapled his own hand. He practically had “distracted and terrified” stamped on his forehead. My brother saw right through it. “Sis, he’s just scared you’re gonna haunt him tonight.” Yet, that very night, a message from him popped up on my long-abandoned Facebook account. [If there’s a next life, I will definitely tell you I love you sooner.] Me: “?” Is he insane? 1 When Leo got home from work, he was holding my favorite strawberry shortcake. Seeing me mopping the floor, he eagerly rushed over. “Sis, let your little bro handle this. You rest.” He snatched the mop from my hands and started vigorously mopping the floor. He hadn’t even taken off his briefcase yet. I leaned against the wall, eyeing him suspiciously. After he finished mopping, panting heavily, and put the mop away, I dashed forward and put him in a headlock. “Tell me the truth, kid. What kind of lies have you been feeding Lucas about me now?” Leo patted my arm, his eyes rolling back. “Let go, Sis, let go first.” I released him. Leo took a massive gasp of air. Then, under my intense glare, he dropped to his knees with a loud thud. I jumped, startled. Just as I was about to speak, I heard his incredibly soft voice: “Sis, for the sake of your brother’s future career, could you maybe… die for a little bit?” Me: “?” Leo’s direct supervisor, Lucas Vance, was my high school classmate. But not just any classmate. We were sworn enemies, completely incompatible. We couldn’t stand the sight of each other. In high school, we had a minor argument every three days and a major blowout every five. Everyone knew it. Leo looks a lot like me, and since he’s only a year younger, we went to the same high school. He came to find me for lunch every day, so most of my classmates had seen him at some point. Therefore, the moment Lucas was transferred from headquarters, he recognized him immediately. He constantly asked Leo about me. Even though I explicitly forbade Leo from revealing a single detail. But my idiot brother let everything go in one ear and out the other. To suck up to his boss, he sold me out a long time ago. And over time, he figured out a pattern. Lucas and I didn’t get along, so naturally, hearing that I was doing poorly would put him in a good mood. The last time I caught him, I overheard Leo talking to Lucas on the phone. He thought I wasn’t home and had him on speaker. “My sister has been in a terrible mood lately.” Lucas’s interest peaked. “Oh? What happened?” “Ah, it’s hard to say, but it’s you, Lucas, you’re not an outsider.” Leo feigned hesitation, then let out a long sigh. “My sister broke up with her boyfriend.” The other end was silent for a few seconds. His tone couldn’t hide his curiosity. “Oh? How did that happen?” “My sister has terrible taste in men. The guy she was dating was absolute trash. They hadn’t even been together a month, and he cheated on her. She caught him in bed…” He really knew how to spin a tale. When I pushed the door open and glared at him, he still had a smug look on his face. The result was entirely predictable: I beat him so badly he couldn’t get out of bed. So this time, the moment I saw Leo’s sycophantic behavior, I knew he had definitely done something to wrong me. Under my relentless interrogation. Leo’s head almost touched the floor. “Sis, my brain short-circuited… I said you died… in a car crash.” Pfft— I spat out a mouthful of water. My eyes went wide as I turned to look at him. Leo scrambled two meters away. “Sis, I’m sorry! But don’t get mad yet! There are two sides to every story! Lucas thinks you’re dead, so he won’t ever ask me about you again! And…” His eyes darted around. “Maybe in the dead of night, he’ll feel so guilty about bullying you that he’ll slap himself!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Lucas? If he didn’t pop champagne at midnight to celebrate, it would be a miracle. 2 In high school, Lucas and I were the perfect storm: I was the tomboyish troublemaker, and he was the fist-swinging school bully. My feud with Lucas started on the very first day of freshman year. Back then, I had short hair, wore the unisex school uniform, had a slightly deep voice, and an overly energetic personality. I was popular with both the guys and the girls. But sometimes, being too energetic can make you seem like a… well, a real creep. On the way to the cafeteria, I spotted my childhood best friend. Without thinking, I sneaked up behind her and smacked her butt. My friend let out a startled yelp. She turned around to look at me, but before she could say a word, I was violently kicked to the ground by a flying foot. A guy stood over me, looking down with pure disgust. “Where did this little pervert come from? Disgusting.” I lay on the ground, completely stunned. My friend stood nearby, frozen in shock. Two seconds later, I snapped back to reality, jumped up, and kicked the guy hard in the leg. “Are you insane?!” The guy instinctively started defending himself and fighting back. We started brawling, and my friend couldn’t even pull us apart. And so, on the very first day of school, Lucas and I became famous. Because it was lunchtime, there was a huge crowd, and the incident had a terrible impact. We were forced to make a public apology at the first school-wide assembly. That day, two new names were added to the disciplinary record book for the new semester at Skyline High: Lucas Vance and Chloe Price. For the next three years, we had countless arguments and tried to trip each other up countless times. If he didn’t pour vinegar in my water bottle, I’d put a fake cockroach in his textbook. I made friends with everyone Lucas hated. When Lucas played in basketball games, I brought a megaphone to cheer wildly for his opponents. Though harmless, it was incredibly annoying. He and I were like two opposing magnets; the moment we got close, there was a violent clash. All these years later, that reaction hadn’t weakened one bit. Otherwise, Lucas wouldn’t be constantly asking Leo about me. Hearing that I was unlucky or doing poorly probably made him eat an extra bowl of rice that day. Well, this is just perfect. Leo told him I was dead. I took two deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. Furious, I demanded, “And that idiot actually believed you?!” From what I knew, Lucas wasn’t easily fooled. “He didn’t believe me at first.” Leo didn’t quite dare to look at me. “But you know that family in the building next to ours is having a funeral, right? When I was at work today, I heard the mourning music, got a little sentimental, and posted a status update…” I froze, grabbing my phone to check. His latest status update: [Life is unpredictable. May the departed rest in peace. 🕯️] I laughed out of sheer anger. Talk about perfect timing and location. Exhausted, I asked my final question. “Is that bastard gloating right now?” “Actually, no.” Leo perked up, leaning in closer. “On the contrary, Lucas has been acting really weird all day.” “He had a meeting this morning, got in the elevator, hit the top floor, then went from the top floor down to the basement. He was totally spacing out.” “During his lunch break, he burned himself in the breakroom. He poured boiling hot water right onto his hand without even blinking.” “This afternoon, while organizing files, he stapled his own hand.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk. He basically has ‘distracted and terrified’ stamped on his forehead.” I was surprised. “Because of me?” “Most likely.” Well, that was truly bizarre. My death hit him that hard? Leo thought for a moment, then slapped his thigh. “I got it, Sis!” I gave him a side-eye. Leo: “Lucas is definitely scared! He’s afraid that now you’re dead, you’ll turn into a vengeful ghost and come after him!” My temple throbbed. Unable to hold back any longer, I smacked him upside the head. “Get lost!” 3 After giving Leo a good scolding, I went back to my room. Maybe it was because Lucas’s name had been brought up so many times today. The moment I lay down on my bed, my mind uncontrollably started replaying my high school years. But for some reason, almost all the memories I could recall prominently featured Lucas. Undeniably, he truly left a “heavy, colorful stroke” on my high school life. But there was a brief period when our relationship actually softened. It was the second semester of our junior year. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Yang, was diagnosed with cancer and was in his second week of hospitalization. While I was getting some fresh air on the roof, I heard a group of guys smoking and chatting in the corner. “Did you hear? Old Yang has terminal cancer.” “Really?” His tone was gleeful. “Serves him right!” “He confiscated three of my phones! He even called my parents to complain, and I got the beating of a lifetime!” “Exactly, he’s done so much petty, annoying crap, he finally got his karma.” “I hope he dies soon, I can’t wait.” My face darkened, and I started walking toward them. Mr. Yang was strict, but he was a genuinely good teacher. He would use his own money to buy school supplies for students struggling financially. When a student was facing domestic abuse, he did home visits every single day for a month to protect them. On snowy winter mornings, he was always the first to arrive at school, turning on the heat in the classrooms, and clearing the snow from the hallways by himself… So, a good teacher like him shouldn’t be cursed so viciously. But before I could even reach them, I heard a scream. Rounding the corner, I saw the guys brawling. Lucas was taking on three of them by himself, and he was clearly winning. He shoved a filthy, stinking rag into one of the guys’ mouths. “Your mouth is so dirty, I’m cleaning it for you!” Right. Lucas was one of the underprivileged students Mr. Yang had sponsored. The commotion eventually drew the attention of nearby teachers. There were no security cameras on the roof, so as a witness, I was called to the office too. The guys’ faces were bruised and swollen. I stared quietly at Lucas for a few seconds, then raised my hand and pointed at the others. “Teachers, they started it, and they were insulting Mr. Yang.” Lucas looked up in shock. I didn’t meet his gaze. Because I was terrible at lying, my hands were shaking nervously behind my back. Lucas couldn’t help it; he let out a laugh. For a long time after that, our relationship was actually okay. At most, we’d exchange a few sarcastic remarks when we saw each other. It was practically harmonious. But later, our relationship deteriorated rapidly again… Ding-dong. A sudden notification sound pulled me from my thoughts. I picked up my phone to check. It was a Facebook notification. [You haven’t been here in a while! Come see who sent you a message!] I froze, and as if possessed, I clicked on it. I hadn’t used Facebook in a long time. Most of my friends on there were from middle and high school. After refreshing for a few seconds, a flood of messages popped up. Over the years, quite a few classmates had actually sent me messages. Most were generic holiday greetings, with a few scattered ones asking how I was doing. I scrolled through, picking a few to reply to. Just as I was about to exit, a red notification dot suddenly appeared at the very top. I froze. Who is sending me a message right now? I scrolled to the top, and Lucas’s name jumped out. The message he sent… was a little creepy. [If there’s a next life, I will definitely tell you I love you sooner.] I let out a shriek and practically threw my phone across the room. Either my phone was possessed, or Lucas had suffered a traumatic brain injury! What kind of garbage is he sending?! Still shaken, I grabbed my phone again. I clicked into the chat, frowning and thinking hard for a long time. Then, it hit me. He probably still doubted Leo’s story, so he decided to use this disgusting, cheesy line to test if I was really dead. Realizing this, I couldn’t be bothered to reply to him. 4 I scrolled on my phone for a bit and was just about to go wash up when Leo sprinted out of his room. He slid on his knees right in front of me. “Sis, save me!” I stared at him blankly. “Lucas said he wants to come over to our house and pay his final respects to you.” I continued to stare blankly. “Sis, could you please hide for a bit? Just help me get through tonight! My probation evaluation is the day after tomorrow! Once I’m a permanent employee, I’ll clarify everything immediately, I promise!” I sneered. “What does that have to do with me?” “Clean up your own mess.” With that, I turned and headed for the bathroom. Leo lunged forward and hugged my leg. “Sis, I’ll buy you the newest tablet and phone! And that trip to Hawaii you’ve been wanting? I’ll book it for you!” He said those words as if his heart was physically breaking. I stopped walking and looked down at him. Three seconds later, I crouched down and affectionately patted his head. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Look at this misunderstanding.” “Get up, the floor is cold.” “Tell me, where do you want your sister to hide?” “The toilet? The rice cooker?” Leo’s mouth twitched, clearly shocked by how fast my attitude changed. He pointed to my bedroom. “Just don’t come out.” “You got it.” I walked into my room, put my phone on silent, and started playing games. Half an hour later, there was a knock at the front door. I paused my game, crept out of bed, and pressed my ear against the door to eavesdrop. Who could resist being curious? Certainly not me. “Lucas, you’re here.” “Yeah.” Lucas’s voice was deep. “Leo, your sister…” Leo: “We already shipped her back to our hometown.” Even though I knew he was lying, hearing it still felt incredibly weird. I clenched my fists and kept listening. “My condolences.” “I know, Lucas. Time heals all wounds.” The two of them sat outside chatting, their voices dropping low. I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. “Your sister’s… photo…” “In her room… afraid it would trigger bad memories…” What are they saying?! Mumble, mumble, mumble. A surge of inexplicable annoyance flared up inside me. Just then, there was another knock at the door. Leo paused, then got up to answer it. “Hello, delivery.” Leo went to the door to get the package. But why did I hear… another set of footsteps heading straight for my bedroom? I panicked and instinctively started looking for a place to hide. The closet? No room. Under the bed? Couldn’t squeeze in. I looked at the wide-open window, my eyes narrowing in determination. When Leo returned with the package and saw what was happening, his soul almost left his body. He sprinted over at record speed and grabbed Lucas’s arm, his voice trembling. “Lucas, what are you doing?” Lucas already had one hand on the bedroom doorknob. His voice was heavy, carrying a faint sadness. “You said her memorial photo was in her bedroom. I just wanted to see her.” As he spoke, he turned to look inside the room. The light was still on. Leo said stiffly, “My sister was afraid of the dark.” “You’re very thoughtful.” Lucas walked in naturally. “Oh my, why is this window still open?” Leo said as he walked briskly to the window. He made a show of closing it, leaned out, looked down, and instantly gasped. I was crouching on the small balcony outside, mouthing words to him. [Get him out of here!] Leo slammed the window shut. He turned and pushed Lucas’s shoulder. “Lucas, let’s go back out. Being in here really makes me want to cry.” “I didn’t see your sister’s photo.” “The photo editors made her look too ugly, so I sent it back to be redone. I forgot.” “…Is that so?” “Yeah!” Click. The door was shut. I waited quietly for a few seconds, then pushed myself up on the windowsill and agilely flipped back into the room. After graduating high school, I went to the police academy. Now, I’m a police officer. I never stop training, which is the only reason I have this kind of agility. I was supposed to be on vacation for a few days, but then this ridiculous mess happened. Lucas didn’t stay much longer. After he left, Leo knocked on my door. I threw the door open, but before I could start yelling, he shoved his phone in my face. “Sis, I’ve already picked out the newest phone model. You just need to choose a color.”

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After my mother died, I seduced the son of her lover. In the heat of passion, he pinned me by the neck and demanded, “Is this how you seduced my father?” Later, his younger half-brother also fell for me. Consumed by frantic jealousy, he snarled, “Having a great time with that little bastard, huh?” I feigned terror, but inside, I was laughing hysterically. Go crazy. Father against son, brother against brother. How entertaining! 1. My mother plummeted to her death from a high-rise. For years, she had been imprisoned in a towering attic, treated as a plaything, a forbidden canary. She was forced to endure his demands, all for my sake. On the day I came of age, my mother, as delicate and fragile as white porcelain, threw herself from that high attic and shattered right in front of me. The man who caused her death was Richard Vance. The patriarch of the Vance family. After my father died, Richard seized our family’s business. Along with the business, he also forcibly took my beautiful, vibrant mother. That animal, Richard Vance, fell in love with his best friend’s wife. To get my mother, he orchestrated my father’s death and stole our family’s fortune. Now that my mother is gone, he has set his sights on me. I need to protect myself. I need revenge. I need Richard Vance to pay in blood. He took everything from my father, so I will destroy everything he holds dear—his wealth, his status, even his life. I want him to feel the exact same agonizing pain of losing his family that I did. The first step in my revenge is to destroy the son he is most proud of. His own son, falling in love with his kept canary. Father and son fighting over the same woman, turning into bitter enemies. How entertaining would that be? Just thinking about it thrills me. My revenge begins tonight. 2. Hailed as a business prodigy, Liam Vance is the Vance family’s most outstanding heir. At only twenty-four, he has already founded his own company and become the most sought-after new money in the city. I gently trace the outline of Liam’s face in my mind. Such an aloof, arrogant man—what would he look like groveling at my feet? I’m very curious. Richard is currently on a business trip in Europe, away from the main estate. This gives me the perfect opportunity to seduce his son. As night fell, I specifically chose a white lace nightgown. It exuded a mix of innocent purity and just the right amount of seductive charm. I softly pushed open Liam’s door. He didn’t have the habit of locking it. Right now, he was taking a shower in the en-suite bathroom. I pulled back the covers and slipped into his dark-colored king-size bed, enveloped by his crisp, cold scent. The mattress dipped beside me. He was in bed. I knew Liam slept naked. Sure enough, as soon as he got in, he noticed me pretending to be asleep. I knew exactly how alluring I looked right now. Glossy, rosy lips, cheeks flushed as if from deep sleep. And the hem of my nightgown, hiked up to my upper thighs due to my “restless” sleeping position. The sight of my full, unconstrained curves was undoubtedly stimulating the fragile nerves of a slightly drunk man. I could feel Liam’s burning gaze on me. I purposely let out a soft whimper, rolling over to hug him as he lay hesitating beside me. The solid muscles of his entire body instantly tensed. He was restraining himself. Am I not tempting enough? Seems I haven’t stoked the fire quite enough. I purposely rubbed against him, as if talking in my sleep. Liam finally lost control. With a dark gaze, he pinched my chin. “Are you seducing me?” Suddenly, something soft and cold covered my lips. It was his mouth. I pretended to be startled awake by him, looking at him with innocent, confused eyes. “What are you doing?” My sweet, soft voice carried a hint of sleepy desire. The thin strap of my nightgown slipped down, half-exposing my shoulder. Pure yet seductive. Hearing my voice, Liam froze. Then, his kisses rained down on me overwhelmingly. “Be good. Let me kiss you.” His voice was deep and husky, thick with undeniable lust. Pinned beneath him, I struggled in a panicked flurry. “Brother, you can’t do this.” Just then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Click, clack, click, clack! It was Mrs. Vance. 3. “Liam, I made you some hangover soup. Get up and drink a little.” Eleanor Vance pushed the door open without knocking. She knew her son had been at a business dinner and drank quite a bit. I cowered in fear, trembling slightly. And “accidentally” brushed against Liam’s terrifyingly hard, sensitive arousal. He gently pressed a kiss to my forehead to calm me. Then he pulled the covers up, hiding me completely beneath him. His aggressive, masculine scent surrounded me entirely. His current position essentially had me caged in his arms. Liam answered impatiently, “Mom, I’m going to sleep.” Eleanor walked in and placed the hangover soup on the desk. “Liam, why is your face so red?” Of course his face was red. He was currently lying naked against me, our hearts beating wildly against each other. If his own mother saw this, how thrilling would that be? The thrill of the taboo caused a thin layer of sweat to break out on Liam’s body. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple and past his Adam’s apple. Eleanor tried to step closer, but Liam stopped her. “I need to sleep. Please leave!” Eleanor knew her son was always haughty and didn’t dare cross him. “Then remember to drink your soup.” She gave a few more instructions before turning to leave. Liam was nearing his breaking point. My hot breath hit his chest, every exhale scratching at his heart like a feather. I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. I deliberately shifted my body, my soft, glossy lips brushing against his chest. My fingertips also “accidentally” grazed his straining desire. “Ah!” He let out an agonizing, heavy pant. “Liam, what’s wrong?” Eleanor, who was just about to leave, turned back around. She approached with concern to check on her son, who was acting strangely. “I’m fine!” Liam irritably yanked the covers up even higher, covering himself completely. Trapped beneath him, I couldn’t move an inch. I used my hands to push against his chest, which was pressed tightly against mine. My soft, seemingly boneless hands touching his burning, rock-hard chest pushed his sensitive nerves to the brink of collapse. Eleanor cast a suspicious glance at the unnaturally high lump under the covers. She seemed to have noticed something. The shape of the blanket… was there someone else hiding in there? 4. Eleanor held her tongue and didn’t expose her son. Her son was her only support in the Vance family; she didn’t want a direct confrontation with him. Forcing down her shock and fury, Eleanor closed the door to Liam’s room. She then ordered the servants not to disturb the young master’s rest. After Eleanor left, I pushed Liam away forcefully. I slumped on the bed, gasping for fresh air. My violent movements caused my nightgown to slip entirely. My beautiful figure was fully exposed. The alcohol had mostly worn off Liam. He stared at me with a dark expression. Just as he opened his mouth to interrogate me. I scrambled off the bed before him and ran away in a panic, tears trailing from the corners of my eyes. Liam watched in stunned silence as I fled. For a moment, he actually felt a pang of frustration. Is she disgusted by me? After I left, Liam didn’t sleep. He kept replaying the scene of me pinned beneath him. Lying in bed, he sought release again and again. He had no idea that while he was passionately calling my name, I was peeking at him from outside the door. … The next day was a weekend. I was painting in the art studio. Eleanor stormed in with her people. “Grab Chloe!” “You little slut, just as cheap as your mother!” Furious beyond words, she dragged me into the greenhouse and threw me onto the floor. The greenhouse was her territory. Her favorite thing to do here was stab me with needles. Richard Vance didn’t allow any visible marks on my body. So she could only use needles. After stabbing my back, she still wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to jam the needles under my fingernails. To be honest, I was terrified. Memories of her abusing me when I was little flooded back, and I almost passed out from the fear. I was gambling. Gambling that either Richard or Liam would come save me. Sure enough, a split second before the steel needle pierced my finger, Richard kicked the greenhouse door open. He yanked Eleanor away. “Eleanor, I’m warning you. Don’t forget your place.” Pushed to the ground, Eleanor screamed hysterically. “Do you know what she did?! She seduced Liam! She’s a shameless slut just like her mother!” Richard ignored her. He picked me up and walked straight toward the attic. That was the forbidden zone of the Vance estate, the place where my mother lived before she died. Richard threw me onto the rug. He stood in front of me, slowly unbuckling his belt. He wasn’t saving me; he was just torturing me in a different way. He tied my hands and feet, leaving me completely immobilized. Richard drank heavily. With every gulp of liquor, he lashed me with the belt. The belt snapped against my skin, bringing a fiery, agonizing pain. When he was tired of beating me, he collapsed onto the sofa, panting. My opportunity was coming. I silently counted the time, waiting for him to get completely drunk. Richard grabbed me by the hair, forcing me to look up at him. “Chloe, you should know exactly why I’m keeping you.” With that, he threw the belt aside, untied me, and started tearing at my clothes. I struggled desperately, crying and reminding him. “Uncle Richard, you promised my mom you wouldn’t touch me.” His hands paused for a fraction of a second, but then he started biting me even more frantically. I calmed myself down, tried my best to imitate my mother’s voice, and spoke coldly: “Richard Vance, are you an animal?” Richard froze, his blurry eyes focusing on me… 5. “Joy… we met first. I fell in love with you first. Why did you…” His voice cracked with a sob. I knew I had succeeded. Richard had mistaken me for my mother. I pushed him away and picked up the dropped belt. My pale, delicate foot stepped hard on his surging desire. I viciously whipped him with all my strength. He didn’t dodge; he took it with a mix of pain and twisted excitement. Richard Vance was a sick, twisted pervert. “On your knees!” I whipped him again. Richard trembled violently as he knelt straight up. It seemed he really enjoyed this. Suppressing my nausea, I used the handle of the whip to lift his chin. “Richard Vance, do you know how filthy you are? You disgust me!” He didn’t look away, his eyes staring at me in a hazy daze. “Joy, I just love you too much. Please, give yourself to me. Give me a child that belongs only to us.” “You don’t deserve it!” I slapped him hard across the face. I pinched his jaw open and poured the rest of the liquor down his throat. He got dead drunk and finally collapsed onto the floor. I tied him up and escaped from the little attic. As I was returning to my room, I happened to run into Liam coming home. The purple and blue whip marks on my pale skin shocked his system. Liam glanced at me, then walked straight into his room. I let him see it on purpose. I wanted him to know the horrific marks his beloved, respected father left on my body. 6. After showering, I sat at my vanity, trying to apply ointment. The wounds were on my back; I tried several times but couldn’t reach them. The door was pushed open, and Liam walked in holding a tube of ointment. He tossed it onto the bed and turned to leave. I grabbed the hem of his shirt, my voice pitiful. “Brother, can you help me apply the ointment?” I knew exactly how alluring I looked right now. My pale, glowing skin was slightly exposed, highlighting my full curves. He hesitated for a long time before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. Liam squeezed a dab of the cooling ointment onto his long index finger and applied it to my lower back. The moment his finger, slick with the cold ointment, touched my skin, I instinctively flinched like a startled fawn. I even let out a small cry of pain, “Ah~” My innocent, fragile, girlish voice, laced with suppressed pain and a hint of coquettishness, was more intoxicating than any stimulant. Liam’s finger paused, and he looked up at me. My eyes were brimming with tears. Forcing myself to hold the crystalline drops in my eyes, I looked devastatingly pitiful. “It hurts. Be gentle, brother.” Liam’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed twice. He put down the ointment and stood up to leave. “It’s done.” I stood up faster than he did, but the moment I got up, I “accidentally” tripped and let out a gasp as I fell forward. Liam reached out and caught my soft waist. With a gentle pull, I landed squarely on his lap. His legs were strong, muscular, and radiated power. Liam looked at me. “Careful.” Pretending to lose my balance, I instinctively wrapped my soft, pale arms around his neck. The unique, sweet scent of a young girl filled his senses. Liam’s rationality crumbled. He kissed my lips gently, and I responded with feigned inexperience. This time, he was completely sober. I knew I had succeeded. But halfway through the kiss, Liam suddenly grabbed my throat.

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Right before I died, my parents sat down and did the math with me. They told me that in this life, they had never mistreated me. Whatever other kids had, I had too. “But, we just don’t have that kind of money anymore,” my mother said. “Your mom and I are just normal people. The doctor said your leukemia is incurable. Even if we go bankrupt trying to save you…” my dad trailed off. “Not to mention we still have to put your brother through college and help him with a down payment for a house. If he doesn’t have a house, who would want to marry him?” “Lily, let’s stop the treatments. Okay?” My mother’s voice trembled as she said it. She framed it as a question, but she had already made the decision. My father stood beside her, offering his own twisted comfort: “You want Ethan to have a good life too, right?” After they decided to give up on my treatment, they had the doctors pull my IVs and take me off life support. My father stood to the side, crying. My mother had tears in her eyes, but she stood rigidly, saying nothing. They had my Uncle David lift me up and place me in a wheelchair. She wouldn’t even touch me. As they rolled me to the hospital entrance, she looked at my uncle and said, “I’m leaving her in your hands.” Uncle David nodded, remaining silent. I looked back at her through blurry, tear-filled eyes. “Mom, aren’t we going home?” I didn’t realize it then, but the moment they decided to give up on me, I no longer had a home. They didn’t take me home. On the drive with my uncle, he told me, “Your brother is about to take his final exams and apply for colleges. Being at home would distract him.” “You wouldn’t want your parents and your brother to have to watch you looking like death every single day, right?” Tears streamed down my face, but I nodded. “Then where am I going?” Where was I supposed to go? Uncle David didn’t answer. He just drove in silence for a very long time. Three hours later, he brought me to a tiny, rundown cabin. It was out in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but empty fields. The cabin stood there, completely isolated from the rest of the world. He locked me inside and came by once a day to drop off food. Laying there, staring at the walls of that tiny, ten-by-ten room, it suddenly hit me: I had already been locked inside my tomb. What was Ethan doing? Was he doing his homework? Did Mom make him her special chicken noodle soup? If I were home, Ethan would always sneak two chicken wings into my bowl, and then eat the drumsticks himself. But honestly, just having the wings was enough to make me happy. Thinking about that, I closed my eyes. I could almost see Ethan smiling at me. I could see him pulling me onto the couch to watch cartoons. I could hear him say, “Don’t be scared. Your big brother is right here.” And then, I never woke up again. When I regained consciousness, I was no longer in that terrifying, suffocating little cabin. I was home. Afternoon sunlight spilled across the living room. My mother was talking to Uncle David. My uncle’s expression was heavy, his eyes rimmed with red. “She passed in the night. I only found out this morning. She went peacefully, no pain. I don’t know if she was having a good dream, but she still had a smile on her face…” As he spoke, tears began to slide down my uncle’s cheeks, hitting the floor. My mother didn’t say a word. She sat quietly, her face devoid of any visible emotion. She simply stared blankly at the small box of my belongings that my uncle had brought back. “And the arrangements?” my uncle asked. “Cremate her,” she said coldly. “Leave the ashes there.” Uncle David nodded. Right then, Ethan walked through the front door. He was spinning a basketball on his finger. Before he even fully stepped inside, he called out, “Mom, is Uncle David here? I saw his truck outside.” A momentary flash of panic crossed my mother and uncle’s faces. Ethan walked in, looking around the living room before heading straight toward my bedroom. When he didn’t find me, he looked at my uncle, confused. “Uncle Dave, didn’t Lily come back with you? Mom said she went to the countryside to hang out with you for a few days. Where is she?” My mother discreetly pinched my uncle’s arm. Uncle David quickly lied, “Oh, Lily is with… your Grandma. She said she wants to stay there until after summer break.” It turned out, Ethan had no idea how sick I really was. He only knew I had been running a lot of fevers, and that Mom had taken me to the doctor. Ethan frowned. “Summer break is still two months away. She’s not coming back? She’s just going to play out there?” My mom walked over and took his backpack and basketball. “Oh, you know your sister isn’t cut out for studying anyway. Let her play. Don’t worry about her.” Ethan looked annoyed. “Who said that? Lily is really smart. Ever since I started supervising her homework, she jumped up ten spots in her class rankings. I need to keep keeping an eye on her.” He turned to my uncle. “Uncle Dave, bring Lily back tomorrow.” My uncle remained completely silent. Before his eyes could turn red again, he turned and walked out the door. My mom walked him out. In the hallway, she whispered, “Don’t tell Mom. She loves Lily the most. She won’t be able to handle it.” Uncle David didn’t say anything. He just looked at her. “Sarah, do you even have a heart? Does this really not hurt you at all?” My mother’s face remained an impenetrable mask. After a long pause, she simply said, “The living still have to live.” Ethan was preparing for his final exams. His workload was massive. But instead of rushing to do his practice tests, he walked over to my desk. He looked at the messy piles of notebooks I had left behind and shook his head with a fond sigh. He started organizing them. Suddenly, he picked up my history workbook. He opened it and saw that I had drawn a pair of roller skates on Abraham Lincoln so he looked like he was zooming away. Ethan laughed out loud. He picked up a pencil and scribbled in the margin: You need to focus on your studies, you little brat. He neatly stacked all my workbooks. Then, he opened my planner and wrote out a detailed study schedule for me. He carefully calculated how many vocabulary words I could memorize each day, mapped out my reading assignments, and wrote it all down. At the bottom, he added a little note in parentheses: (If you can’t finish it all, don’t force yourself. As long as you’re a little better than yesterday, that’s enough.) After finishing my study plan, he stretched his arms over his head. Then, as if remembering something else, he picked up the pencil again. At the very bottom of the schedule, he wrote one last sentence. Lily, you study hard for your own sake. I just want the best for you. He smiled gently as he wrote it, probably imagining how motivated I would be when I finally saw the note. My mother was cooking in the kitchen. When I was little, I loved hanging out in the kitchen with her. Whenever she cooked, I’d act as her little assistant, passing her ingredients and utensils. I always looked so serious doing it. I liked to pretend the kitchen was an operating room. Mom was the lead surgeon, and I was the trusty scrub nurse handing her the scalpels. Sometimes, I’d even take a paper towel and dab the sweat off her forehead, just like the nurses did on TV. It always made her laugh. She’d look at me with such affection and say, “Alright, Nurse Lily, hand the doctor an egg.” Day after day, she had grown completely used to the fact that the kitchen belonged to the two of us. Cooking wasn’t a lonely, tedious chore when I was there. People always say that when someone dies, it doesn’t really hit you right away. When exactly do you realize that a person is truly gone forever? Usually, it happens like this— “Grab me two tomatoes.” My mother scrambled the eggs, and without thinking, tossed them into the hot pan to fry. Once they were done, she scooped them onto a plate, turned around, picked up her knife, and reached her hand out behind her, waiting for me to hand her the tomatoes. Suddenly, her hand froze in mid-air. She looked up. The kitchen was completely empty. She was entirely alone. The whole house felt suffocatingly quiet. She stood frozen in the silence. Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes, brimming over her lashes. She clenched her fists, violently choking back her sobs, desperately trying to suppress the wave of emotion. She tried her hardest to pretend nothing was wrong, letting the tears fall uncontrollably down her cheeks while maintaining a cold, wide-eyed stare. She opened the fridge, grabbed the tomatoes herself, and looked down at the cutting board to slice them. And then, she suddenly remembered. She had never, not once, asked while cooking: “Lily, what do you want to eat today?” She only ever asked Ethan. Ethan would always just say, “Whatever.” And I would lean against her arm and say sweetly, “Whatever Mom makes is my favorite!” Uncle David went back to the countryside to handle my affairs. He took me to the crematorium, and then carried my ashes back to that tiny cabin, all alone. It was nighttime when he arrived. Everything was pitch black. He walked into the cabin. There were no lights. A memory flashed in his mind—the image of me lying there in the dark, clinging to my last breaths, waiting to die. I always lay facing the wall, my back to the door. He set my urn down and went to fold up the blankets I had used. Then, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the single window, he saw the wall I had stared at every day. There, etched into the drywall, was my timeline. I had used a small pebble to scratch tally marks into the wall. Above the marks, I had written a messy, crooked sentence. When I finish the last tally, Mom will come take me home. The final tally mark was missing its very last stroke. I had died that night. Uncle David froze. His brow furrowed in deep agony. He grabbed the blankets, turned around, and left. When he got back to his house, Grandma Jenkins was sitting in the yard under the porch light. She had her reading glasses on, squinting furiously at her old, brick-like flip phone. She looked incredibly angry. I knew exactly why she was angry. I used to call her every other day just to chat. Once, I waited two days to call, and she got so mad. She claimed I hadn’t called her in half a month. I laughed and said, “It hasn’t been half a month! It’s only been two days!” She scoffed proudly. “You think two days is acceptable?! Why haven’t you talked to your grandma in two days? If you don’t want to call, then just don’t call ever again! Just pretend I’m dead!” Her dramatic, prideful act always made me laugh uncontrollably, and I’d spend the next ten minutes gently coaxing her. I promised I would call her every single alternate day. Right now, she was gripping that flip phone, her face tight with stubborn anger, refusing to go to bed. The neighbor lady saw my uncle walk up and said, “Oh, thank God you’re back. Your mother has been wandering around with that phone for days, asking everyone if it’s broken or if she forgot to pay the bill. Please check it for her.” Uncle David knew exactly why Grandma was acting like this. He walked over, gently took the phone from her hands, and tried to help her inside. Grandma resisted. “Give me my phone back.” “Why do you need the phone?” Uncle David said, trying to mask his emotions. “Go to sleep.” “What if Lily calls me? What if I miss it? Give it back.” Uncle David stood in silence, refusing to hand it over. After a long pause, he finally offered a comforting lie. “Lily and Ethan have their final exams coming up. They’re studying day and night. She just doesn’t have time.” Grandma nodded in immediate understanding. “I know, I know. They have their finals. But Lily wouldn’t forget me. Lily isn’t heartless like the rest of you. She doesn’t get busy and just forget I exist. She’s closest to me.” Stubbornly, she snatched the phone back from my uncle’s hand. She sat on the edge of her bed, gripping it tightly, staring at the blank screen. Uncle David’s eyes grew red again. His lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come out. It looked like he wanted to just rip the band-aid off and tell her that Lily was never going to call again. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her heart. He rubbed his eyes and said, “I saw Lily today.” Grandma’s eyes lit up. She leaned forward eagerly. “Really? You went to their house today?” Uncle David nodded. “Yeah. Lily said her grades used to be bad and she knew it worried you. So she promised she’s going to score a perfect 100 on her finals to show you.” Grandma smiled, nodding her head in pure joy. “Good, good, good. If she’s working that hard, I wouldn’t even mind if she didn’t call me for a whole month.” But then she immediately backtracked. “No, a month is still too long.” Then, remembering something, she beamed happily. “Tomorrow is Sunday. She’ll definitely FaceTime me tomorrow.” Satisfied, she lay down, pulled the covers up, and tucked her precious flip phone safely under her pillow. She closed her eyes, already plotting how she was going to playfully scold me tomorrow for not calling her for five whole days. Thinking about it, she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. My dad worked very late. By the time he got back to our neighborhood, it was already midnight. The streets were empty. A small pack of stray dogs was roaming around, digging through the trash. One of the dogs stopped and stared at the tall, exhausted silhouette walking through the darkness. The dog stood there, watching him for a long time. My dad recognized him. His name was Shadow. I was the one who named him. When Shadow was a puppy, he almost died. He was the runt of the litter. When it was time to eat, the other puppies aggressively pushed him out of the way to get to their mother’s milk. He was kicked to the side, and even the mother dog rejected him. They say animals instinctively reject weak offspring. They think weak pups can’t survive, so they choose to give their limited resources to the stronger ones. That day, I was walking back from picking up a package with my dad when I found Shadow in the bushes. His mother was right there, but she completely ignored him. I couldn’t bear it. I tugged on my dad’s sleeve. “Dad, can we take him home?” My dad glanced at the puppy and frowned. “No. Your brother needs to study. We can’t have a noisy dog in the house.” I listened to him. I didn’t bring him inside our apartment. Instead, I went down to the basement of our building and used cardboard boxes to build Shadow a little shelter. I lined it with an old blanket I didn’t use anymore, bought him goat’s milk, and set up a small heat lamp to keep him warm. I hid him in a quiet corner and fed him every single day. I researched everything about taking care of puppies and found out he needed his shots. I carried him to a nearby clinic that offered free vaccines for strays. The vet told me Shadow had congenital defects and had been abandoned by his mother. He said Shadow probably wouldn’t live long enough to even need his vaccines. Holding Shadow, I cried my eyes out. But Shadow seemed to sense my sadness. He licked my face, his innocent eyes full of concern and confusion. He didn’t understand why I was crying, but I knew what he was doing. He was trying to comfort me. I shook my head, looked him dead in the eyes, and told him with absolute certainty: “Shadow, listen to me. You can do this. You have to stay alive for me.” Against all odds, Shadow actually lived long enough to get his shots. The vet smiled warmly when I brought him back in. He patted my head, and then patted Shadow’s. With kind, glowing eyes, he said, “Love always creates miracles.” As time went on, Shadow grew up. He became the undisputed king of the neighborhood strays. He was a fierce fighter and bowed down to no one—but the moment he saw me, his tail would wag so hard his whole body shook. Right now, Shadow stood in the distance, watching my father. He slowly approached, sniffing my dad’s shoes and ankles, desperately trying to find my scent. But my dad was exhausted and impatient. He kicked Shadow away. But Shadow refused to give up. He ran off into the dark, and a few minutes later, he came running back. In his mouth, he was carrying a pink, dirt-stained blanket. He chased after my dad. Disgusted by the dirty stray, my dad was about to kick him again when his eyes suddenly caught sight of the faded Hello Kitty print on the blanket. He froze. It was the blanket he had bought for me. When I was in kindergarten, I treated that blanket like a treasure. I couldn’t fall asleep unless I was holding it. It was precious to me because I had begged him for months before he finally agreed to buy it. My dad stared at it, completely shell-shocked. He started chasing Shadow. “Why do you have that blanket?! Give it here!” Shadow grabbed the blanket and bolted. My dad chased him through the dark. He ran and ran, until he tripped and fell hard onto the pavement. And then, he finally broke down crying. He clenched his fists, pounding them against the asphalt, weeping silently into the night. A ragged, agonizing sound tore from his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to scream my name. Shadow took the blanket back to his little cardboard shelter. He curled up in his dark corner, wrapping the pink blanket tightly around himself. He didn’t sleep. He just stared out into the pitch-black night, his dark eyes filled with thoughts I couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he was wondering where I went. Maybe he was wondering if I was ever coming back. Wondering when we would see each other again. When he could run in circles around me, wagging his tail, so happy he wouldn’t even know what sound to make to tell me— “It’s been so long.” My father picked himself up off the pavement, brushed the dirt off his pants, and forced his emotions back down. He walked into the apartment. As soon as he took his shoes off, his eyes landed on the little snack cabinet I had built for him out of cardboard boxes. It was fully stocked with all the snacks I had carefully prepared for him. He always worked so late. He would come home starving, and over the years, he had developed stomach ulcers from the hunger. Because he was always too tired to cook a real meal at midnight, I started preparing a stash of snacks for him. Stuck to the boxes were sticky notes I had written, letting him know which flavors were in which bins. He reached out, his fingers tracing the little hearts and cartoon faces I had drawn on the notes. He grabbed a bag of chips, sat heavily on the couch, and numbly opened it, stuffing a handful into his mouth. A moment later, my mother walked out of the bedroom. He didn’t turn around. His voice was raw. “Honey, what if we just…” Before he could finish his sentence and say we should continue my treatments, my mother cut him off. “She’s dead.”

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Everyone in Manhattan’s elite circles knew Silas Sterling had a girl he kept on a pedestal. She was spoiled, entitled, and utterly arrogant. Even on our wedding day, she showed up in a white gown that mirrored my own, making me look like the punchline of a joke. I stayed silent until my family and I systematically dismantled Silas’s empire and drove him into bankruptcy. Only then did that girl crawl to me on her knees, begging for mercy. I looked down at her with a cold smirk. “Weren’t you the one dying to be his bride?” I asked. “Well, I hope you both enjoy each other’s company in federal prison. Till death do you part.” 1 As I began my walk down the aisle, I saw her. She was standing on the mezzanine balcony of the ballroom, draped in a white silk gown that mirrored my own. She looked down at my fiancé, Silas Sterling, with eyes brimming with tears. And Silas? He was looking right back at her, his expression filled with a longing that made me, the actual bride, look like a circus act. Beside me, my father’s hand tightened on my arm, his knuckles white. I placed my hand over his, forcing him to stay calm. The whispers from the pews were like static in the air: “Who is that girl? Showing up to a wedding dressed as the bride? Where’s the class?” “Don’t you know? That’s Chloe, the ward Silas raised for eighteen years. They’re… ‘close’.” “Everyone knows she’s obsessed with him. The only reason Silas chose Elena Vance is because his mother forced his hand to secure the Vance family merger.” Under the icy glare of the Sterling matriarch, Silas finally, reluctantly, tore his eyes away from the balcony. Chloe was eventually pulled back into the shadows by a bridesmaid, forced to change into a cocktail dress before being ushered to a seat. I marched forward with a dignified smile—the perfect picture of the “refined heiress” Mrs. Sterling Senior demanded. In front of the priest and the city’s elite, I let Silas slide the ring onto my finger. I watched Chloe’s eyes turn a deeper shade of red with every word of the vows. Silas looked miserable. I looked amused. Oh, you’re heartbroken? I thought. Let me give you something real to cry about. Before the reception could even begin, I grabbed Chloe’s hand in front of a group of socialites. I flashed a wide, beaming smile. “You must be Chloe, right? From today on, you can call me Mom.” The surrounding guests froze for a heartbeat before several of them muffled their laughter. I maintained my “gracious” expression, looking at her with faux maternal warmth. “They say a daughter is a father’s first love,” I added, my voice dripping with sugary malice. “Looking at the two of you, I can see that’s true in more ways than one!” Chloe looked like she had been stripped naked in the middle of Times Square. Her deepest, dirtiest secret had just been paraded in front of everyone she wanted to impress. She turned and bolted out of the hall in a fit of hysterical tears. Silas tried to follow her, but I clamped my hand onto his arm with a grip like a vice. “Husband,” I whispered, the smile never leaving my face. “For the sake of the multi-million dollar merger between our firms, I suggest you stay and finish the toast.” He glared at me, his face twisted in a silent snarl of rage. But he stayed. He didn’t have a choice. 2 The wedding was a “success,” at least for the stock market. Silas was immediately buried in the overseas expansion project we had launched together. He didn’t have time to play peacemaker between his new wife and his “little girl,” so I had to handle her myself. When I arrived at the Sterling estate for the first time as its mistress, I found my designer luggage sitting on the wet grass of the front lawn. Chloe was standing in the grand doorway, arms crossed, looking down her nose at me like she owned the place. I grew up as a Vance. My family’s staff didn’t even breathe without my permission. When my personal assistant saw the suitcases on the grass, her hand literally twitched. I held her back. I stepped out of the car, leaned down, and picked up an emerald necklace that had spilled out of one of my bags. I stood up and looked at Chloe with a playful glint in my eye. “Do you have any idea how much this insurance premium costs?” Chloe scoffed. “Only peasants care about the price of jewelry. I have drawers full of stuff Silas bought me. Do you want some of my hand-me-downs, Elena?” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at my assistant. She didn’t need a verbal command. She stepped forward and delivered a backhand so sharp the sound echoed off the limestone pillars. Chloe stumbled back, clutching her face in disbelief. “How dare you?” she shrieked. My assistant sneered. “Know your place. You’re talking to a Vance.” Following my nod, the staff pinned Chloe down, forcing her to her knees at my feet. I reached down and tilted her chin up with one finger, admiring the shock on her pampered face. Then I slapped her. Twice. Hard. This was a gated community. The houses were close. The sound of the blows brought the neighbors out onto their balconies. I didn’t care. I let out a light laugh. “Listen to me, Chloe. I know Silas has babied you for a decade. But I’m the woman of this house now. You want to marry him? Get in line. But until you do, you’re under my thumb.” “Keep acting out, and I will break you every single time until you learn to sit.” Chloe tried to scream a curse at me. I slapped her again, making sure her lip bled. Suddenly, someone came sprinting from the neighboring lawn. “Elena! Stop it! She’s just a kid!” I turned to see Greg Montgomery, the neighborhood playboy, grabbing my wrist. I didn’t hesitate. My free hand swung around and connected with his face, too. As he stood there, stunned and clutching his cheek, I hissed: “Greg, mind your own business. Chloe is a legal adult. If you want to play house with her, do it on your own time. This is a family matter, and frankly, you don’t have the bank balance to interfere.” His face turned beet red. “The Vance Group just acquired thirty percent of your father’s firm,” I reminded him. “If you want to keep your trust fund, I suggest you go back inside.” He went silent. I looked at my staff. They grabbed Chloe by the hair and dragged her into the house like a bag of trash. 3 Chloe wasn’t related to Silas by blood, but he had raised her since she was a toddler. Their dynamic was sick. Her bedroom was literally connected to his through a shared walk-in closet. The house staff whispered that Silas liked to stay close in case she had “nightmares.” I laughed when I heard it. “So,” I said to the head housekeeper, who was looking at me with pure terror. “I’m the third wheel in my own marriage? Is this a group project?” The housekeeper knew I wasn’t someone to mess with. By that evening, every single one of Chloe’s belongings had been moved to a guest suite in the basement. I watched the boxes go down, my expression cold. I didn’t care what Silas did in his spare time. But if Chloe thought she could scream in my face and get away with it, she was delusional. Silas came home that night, clearly tipped off that his “princess” was being mistreated. At the dinner table, I sat elegantly in a silk robe, sipping soup. When I set a bowl down for Silas, he looked at me, let out a disgusted scoff, and swiped the bowl off the table with his forearm. The scalding broth splattered across my hand. Across the table, Chloe’s eyes lit up with malicious joy, though she quickly masked it with a fake, worried pout. “Does it hurt?” Silas sneered. “Not as much as Chloe’s face hurts after you attacked her this morning. Do you think you’re untouchable just because of your last name, Elena?” Chloe stood up, playing the peacemaker. “Uncle Silas, please… don’t fight. It was my fault.” I slowly stood up. The “gracious wife” mask was gone. I looked Silas dead in the eye and delivered a bone-shattering slap across his face. “Silas Sterling,” I said, my voice like a whip. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt. But don’t you dare think for one second that I’m the kind of woman who takes hits.” The ring on my finger had caught his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Chloe screamed and rushed to his side. “Silas! Are you okay?” I didn’t stop. I grabbed the porcelain dinner plate and smashed it onto the floor. A shard flew up and nicked Chloe’s eyelid. She shrieked, covering her eye. My security team stepped in, forming a wall between me and an enraged Silas. I picked up a sharp piece of porcelain from the floor. 4 Silas tried to lunge at me, but he couldn’t get past my guards. “ELENA! STOP!” he roared. I ignored him. I looked at my assistant and nodded. She stepped forward, grabbed Chloe’s arm, and held it steady. Before Chloe could even realize what was happening, I used the porcelain shard to carve two quick lines into her cheek. Nothing deep, just enough to leave a permanent reminder. Chloe wailed, backing away in horror. I stood there, smoothing out my robe, and picked up a glass of Cabernet. I raised it toward Silas. “Silas, if you were smart, you wouldn’t have married me. You need the Vance money to keep your company afloat, and as long as I’m the one paying the bills, I run the house.” “Chloe is a houseguest. If she insults me again, I’ll make sure she’s deaf or blind by morning. Do I make myself clear?” I set the glass down and walked upstairs without looking back. While we were fighting, my staff had already called Silas’s mother. They told her Chloe had staged a coup and that Silas was helping her bully me. Since the Vance-Sterling merger was the only thing keeping their family out of the tabloids, Mrs. Sterling Senior was terrified. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, her private car was already in the driveway to pick me up. I left with my staff and spent the next two weeks at the Sterling family estate. Mrs. Sterling spent the entire time apologizing to me, plying me with heirloom diamonds to make sure I didn’t tell my father to pull the funding. I played the “broken, dutiful wife” perfectly. 5 I stayed at the family estate until Silas finally came to beg me to return. My brother had “accidentally” mentioned to Silas during a board meeting that he was looking into other investment opportunities. Silas knew what that meant. When we finally returned to the villa, the layout had changed. The housekeeper had replaced the modern furniture with the heavy, antique pieces I preferred. It felt like a fortress. I took off my coat and smiled at the butler. “Where is Chloe?” Before Silas could speak, the butler bowed. “Miss Chloe moved into a private apartment downtown. She said she didn’t want to disturb your peace.” I raised an eyebrow. “She moved to the Chelsea District?” I asked. The butler hesitated. I smirked. “Isn’t that building known for housing ‘kept women’?” I laughed. “Silas, really? You’re making it look so tawdry. People will talk.” “Poor Chloe. Her reputation in the city is going to be ruined. She’ll never find a decent husband now.” Silas’s face was a map of humiliation. He and I were both sharks; we knew exactly what the move meant. He wanted her where I couldn’t touch her, but in doing so, he had effectively branded her as his mistress. I didn’t care. I spent the next month systematically taking over the house. I fired the staff loyal to him. I audited the household accounts. I made sure every person under that roof knew who held the checkbook. By the time Chloe came back for a visit, the house was a Vance stronghold. She had been quiet lately, focusing on her senior year at the New York School of Design. Silas had spent millions to get her in, despite her mediocre grades. He even promised her a trip to Paris once she finished her thesis. At dinner, Chloe was back to her old tricks, whining about how “hard” her design project was. Silas was cooing over her, promising her the world. I couldn’t help it. I let out a sharp laugh. Chloe snapped. “What’s so funny? Do you think my education is a joke?” “I think your grades are a joke,” I said smoothly. “That’s an Ivy-equivalent school. Do you really think you got in on talent?” My assistant chimed in with a smirk: “Our lady graduated summa cum laude from Oxford. She actually knows what a library looks like. Unlike some people who buy their way through.” I looked at Silas. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. He had kept Chloe in a bubble, making her believe she was a genius. I just enjoyed watching the bubble pop.

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The Campbell family, the wealthiest in the capital, sent people to find Alice Campbell. I was with her, catching chickens on our farm. They said Alice was the Campbell family’s missing heir, presumed gone for five years, inheriting billions. “This money is the Campbell family’s compensation for your five years. We hope you’ll accept it.” I knew this money was hush money, severing any connection between Alice and me. Alice’s eyes were bloodshot. She clutched my sleeve, looking wronged and sad. “I’ll go back, but only if he comes with me!” Watching everyone exchange awkward glances, I wiped chicken manure from my hands and, in front of Alice, accepted the black card. “Alice, you go back alone.” “I’m used to living in the South. The North is dry and cold; I don’t like it.” Alice, it’s not that I haven’t gone back with you before. It’s just that I died too tragically in my last life. This time, I’ve learned my lesson. 1. The December wind was damp and cold. Alice tightly gripped my sleeve, her eyes glistening. “Lucas, are you abandoning me?” The same words, the same look as in my previous life. But this time, I wouldn’t soften. Through her, I looked at the dark mass of people standing on the ridge, then slowly, one by one, pried Alice’s fingers from my hand. “Alice, you don’t belong here.” “Have you forgotten? You’re just a stray cat or dog I picked up on the roadside.” Alice’s glistening eyes immediately turned crimson at my words. These were the words Alice hated most. When I first found Alice, she couldn’t even speak clearly. When asked her name or where she lived, she knew nothing, only shook her head. Helpless, I had no choice but to keep her with me. Some mischievous children in the village nicknamed her “Fido,” saying she was a dog following me everywhere. Alice hated those words, but couldn’t stop others’ mouths. “Alice, it’s okay.” “Their mouths are their own. As long as we know it’s not true, that’s what matters.” My deceased grandfather taught me that. Later, I taught it to Alice. But now, I was saying those very words to Alice myself. “Lucas, are our five years of shared life only worth this amount of money?” Alice’s voice trembled as she spoke. In my previous life, I also felt our five years together shouldn’t be severed by mere money. So even knowing that returning to Capital City with her would mean facing scrutiny and criticism from the Campbell family, I still wanted to stand by her side and face it together. “Alice, without money, people die. But without sentiment, people live more easily.” “You should know how important money is, having been with me for these five years. This money can ensure my grandmother and I live comfortably for the rest of our lives.” I didn’t want to get further entangled with Alice. I called out to the people behind her: “What are you still waiting for?” “Are you expecting your Miss Campbell to climb into the car herself?” My utterly indifferent words landed, and Alice completely lost it. She snatched the card from my hand, forcefully snapped it in half, and threw it into a nearby muddy puddle. Alice desperately clung to me, holding on tightly. “Lucas, I don’t want to go!” “I just want to be with you! I promised Grandma I would take good care of you. You even said we’d have a son and a daughter, that we’d work hard together to buy a house and move to the city!” “Now I can give you the best life, why have you suddenly changed?” Five years had etched Alice’s dependence on me into her bones. She felt she couldn’t leave me, that she absolutely needed me. That was only because, for now, she didn’t remember her fiancée in Capital City. And that fiancée had waited for her painstakingly for five years. If she had known all of this back then, she wouldn’t have chosen to take me with her. “Alice, stop acting like a child.” “Are you really taking a children’s game seriously?” Those arms wrapped around me loosened. “Lucas, you’re so heartless.” The tearful accusation made it sound as if I were a cruel, unfaithful lover deserving of a thousand cuts. But Alice, you don’t know. In my previous life, I also believed we could have a lifetime of happiness. But it wasn’t until you remembered the person you loved that I realized how foolish I had been. The moment my grandmother and I died in that foreign land, I wished for another chance. I would never go back to Capital City with you again. The news that Alice was the daughter of the capital’s wealthiest family quickly spread throughout our impoverished little mountain village. Everyone, wearing ingratiating smiles, gathered in our yard to watch the spectacle. “Lucas, you’ve really hit the jackpot. Don’t forget us folks once you’re rich and famous!” “That’s right, I heard the Campbell family only has one daughter. So you’ll be the heir to a fortune, won’t you?” “I always said this Alice looks different from the children in our poor backwater. See, she’s a rich family princess!” The yard was bustling with their chatter. I glanced over, then walked to the water pump, washed my hands, and splashed water on my face. “Everyone, disperse.” “Alice is gone.” I knew the people gathered at the door simply wanted some benefits from Alice. After all, a little dust falling from the capital’s wealthiest family was enough for an ordinary family’s year-long sustenance. Everyone was surprised I hadn’t gone with her, and murmurs of discussion rose and fell. Too lazy to bother, I closed the door. “Lucas…” Grandma’s weak voice came from the bedroom. I quickly went in. Seeing Grandma, who in my previous life had frozen to death at the Campbell family’s gate because of me, tears welled up in my eyes. “Good child, why are you crying?” “Is it because Alice didn’t want to take you, and you’re sad?” I shook my head. “Then tell Grandma what’s wrong. Grandma will stand up for you.” I shook my head again, helping Grandma sit down. “Grandma, I chose not to go with her.” “I want to stay by your side forever.” Grandma lovingly ruffled my hair, holding me and gently stroking my back. “Silly child…” The lullaby she hummed was like a sleep-inducing melody, drawing me into a dream. But in that dream was my previous life, a past I could never forget. The first day I followed Alice back to Capital City, I stood at the opulent Campbell Manor, carrying the dried fish, dried meat, and free-range chickens Grandma had specially prepared for me. At that moment, I realized what it meant to be out of place. I clutched Alice tightly beside me, as if she were my only lifeline. Alice gently squeezed my hand, smiling. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Those were words I often said to her. When I first found Alice, she was injured everywhere, especially her right knee, which was severely hurt. She always walked with a limp, often mocked and bullied. Back then, I stood in front of her, defending her, telling her, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Grandma and I worked desperately to earn money for her treatment, buying her the best and most expensive rehabilitation equipment. She always said with red eyes that she would repay us someday, promising to earn money and support us once she recovered. Later, she did. But she also broke her promise. “You’re Lucas?” The question came from Alice’s mother, Eleanor. Fifty years old, yet showing no traces of time. Completely different from the fifty-year-old women in our village. I timidly nodded, the expensive carpet beneath my feet feeling like pins pricking my soles. “These are specialties my grandmother asked me to bring. Here, for you…” I crouched down, taking out the items one by one as Grandma had instructed. Alice bent down, handing them over to Eleanor piece by piece. But when I looked up, I saw the almost identical expressions of disgust on their faces. They covered their mouths, frowning, as if what was before them was something filthy. My heart instantly turned cold. Seeing their reaction, Alice roared, “Is no one going to take these?!” No one dared to defy this young princess. At her command, several people scrambled out and carried away everything I had brought. Alice, her face cold, helped me up, then solemnly introduced me to everyone. “This is my boyfriend, Lucas.” “He is my future husband. If you don’t accept him, it means you don’t accept me.” In the enormous living room, you could hear a pin drop. No one dared to speak; the atmosphere was terribly eerie. Until a soft sigh came from the crowd, and a path was automatically cleared. I looked in that direction; a man in a suit silently watched Alice and me. “Alice, you say he is your future husband.” “Then what am I?” 2 The first time I saw Victor, I realized a man could be so refined and handsome. He was like a star stepped out of a movie, dazzling and brilliant. It was then I learned that he and Alice had been childhood sweethearts, growing up together. Their bond was so deep that even when Alice was missing for five years, Victor remained, waiting painstakingly. “Alice, I waited for you for five years. Do you know what those five years were like for me?” “Alice, how could you forget me?” “And how could you fall in love with a man like this?” Alice instinctively let go of my hand. That was the first time I saw such a conflicted expression on Alice’s face. Alice arranged for me to stay in a villa, just across the street from Campbell Manor. That night, Alice held me tightly as she slept, talking about her hopes for the future. “Lucas, this will be our home from now on. Don’t worry, I will give you a proper answer.” “I told you, I only recognize you.” Those words were like a steady anchor, calming my uneasy heart. Alice hadn’t recovered her memory, but she still remembered how to handle company affairs. She traveled between three points every day, and I rarely heard her mention Victor again. Fearing I’d be bored, Alice brought my grandmother to Capital City. Grandma and I spent every day making her favorite dishes, and she always smiled contentedly. Every evening after dinner, we would watch the sunset from the rooftop. We used to love watching the sunset behind the farm in our village; she said she wanted to watch sunsets with me for the rest of her life. Those few months were the happiest time of my life. We no longer worried about money and lived the life we had dreamed of. But later, Alice became increasingly busy with the company, and Grandma and I often went days without seeing her. Occasionally, she’d visit, but only for a short while before leaving. Sunsets, too, became something I watched alone. I often zoned out until nightfall, still unable to wait for Alice to watch the sunset with me. It wasn’t until Alice’s birthday that she said she wanted to take me back to Campbell Manor. I once again stepped into that intimidatingly large house. I wore a suit I wasn’t used to, surrounded by eyes filled with malicious judgment. I tightly gripped Alice, but this time, Alice didn’t say, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” She said, “I’m going upstairs to change. Wait for me here.” I wanted to follow, but she went upstairs before I could speak. The next second, I saw Victor. “Do you know Alice is undergoing memory recovery treatment?” “She’s about to remember me.” A piercing ringing sound erupted in my ears; my nerves snapped at that moment. A violent impact, and I was brutally knocked to the ground. Victor’s sharp heel dug into the back of my hand, almost drilling a hole through it. “Ah…” The elegant music and the chatter of the crowd drowned out my cry of pain. I lay there on the ground, watching Alice, dressed in exquisite attire, pass through the crowd. “Alice!” Victor smiled, waving to her, and walked to her side. They danced song after song amidst thunderous applause, clearly the most perfectly matched couple in the world. Like a prying thief, I numbly turned and left the Campbell residence. Outside, Eleanor was seeing off guests. “Alice and Victor’s wedding is set for the fourth day of the New Year. Make sure you all come.” Amidst the flattery and congratulations, Eleanor said, “Campbell Manor is not a place for just any stray cat or dog.” I knew “stray cat or dog” referred to me. Though it was only across the street, it felt like I walked for an eternity. That day, Alice didn’t return to the villa for the first time. [Lucas, something came up at the company. I won’t be coming over today.] I knew Alice was lying. But some things, I just wanted to hear her say to me. Yet she didn’t come for half a month straight. When she finally did, her face was grim. “Lucas, Victor said he came to Jade Creek Village to find me. He even met you.” “But you kept it hidden. You said you hadn’t seen me. Is that true?” That was the first time I saw Alice angry with me. The way she looked at me was like she was looking at a stranger. I held back the tears welling in my eyes, stubbornly looking up. “I didn’t.” I wouldn’t admit to something I hadn’t done. “I never saw anyone come to Jade Creek Village looking for you!” “You’re still lying!” Alice roared, playing a video on her phone, amplified. The video showed villagers from Jade Creek Village saying they had seen Victor. “Seen him, yes, he came from the city. I even gave him directions.” “That’s right, I told him the person he was looking for was at the Lius’. I was wondering why he didn’t take Miss Campbell home!” “Lucas must have been hiding something malicious!” … One accusation after another, almost everyone was blaming me for hiding Alice. I had no way to defend myself, only continuously clutching Alice’s sleeve, saying I hadn’t. “Lucas isn’t like that, Alice!” “Five years, don’t you trust him?” Grandma, holding me, confronted Alice, pulling at Alice’s hand, telling her not to be fooled by the villagers. But those dark eyes held no trace of tenderness. “My name isn’t Alice; it’s Alice Campbell.” She shook Grandma off, and even when Grandma fell to the ground, her face showed no emotion. I suddenly realized the person in front of me wasn’t my Alice anymore. Her name was Alice Campbell, and she was Victor’s Alice. “If I had known this, I would never have brought you back to Capital City!” Alice’s resolute words were an unspoken death sentence for me. “Alice, you remembered, didn’t you?” I recalled Victor’s words, realizing the woman in front of me had recovered her memory. She hadn’t appeared for half a month straight. Only because she remembered that the person she was meant to love, meant to marry, wasn’t me. “You really didn’t have to put on such a show for me. If you had just said it, I wouldn’t have clung to you.” Alice looked down at me from above, emotionless. “There was no show.” “Lucas, Victor… he waited for me for five years. I can’t let him down.” I lowered my head and couldn’t help but smile, tears streaming down my face. “Her five years are five years. Are my five years not five years?” Alice’s step faltered slightly, but in the end, she walked out of our home without looking back. “This house is your compensation. The Campbell family will also cover your future living expenses.” “From now on, don’t look for me again.” After that, that villa became my cage, and also my tomb. That year was the darkest period of my life. The pain from the dream extended into reality, and I struggled awake. Sitting up, I looked around the room and let out a long sigh of relief. Good, it was just a dream. This time, I didn’t go with Alice. Suddenly, there was an urgent knock at the door. I pushed open the door, my palm sweating slightly, hidden by my side. Standing outside the door was no one else. It was Alice.

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Our families were merging their trusts, and an alliance was required. When my older brother asked me who I wanted to choose, I didn’t hesitate. I chose my arrogant, playboy childhood best friend: Cole Harrington. Yet, after we married, he kept his first love strung along. They even ended up having a child together. When his wealthy friends joked about his infidelity, Cole just scoffed. “Vivienne Vance is the world’s biggest doormat. No matter what I do to her, she’ll never leave.” My heart finally died. I packed my things and walked away, only to end up in a horrific pile-up on the interstate. Two lives were lost that night—mine, and the baby I was carrying. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the evening of the engagement gala. Chapter 1 “Vivi, have you decided who you want to choose?” my brother, Wyatt, asked gently. I stood frozen, trembling from head to toe, completely unable to process that I had actually been reborn. Before I could answer, Mrs. Harrington stepped right up to me, slipping a priceless vintage estate ring onto my finger. She smiled warmly. “Vivi will definitely pick our rotten boy. They grew up together, thick as thieves. No one can compare to their bond.” “Mom, are you drunk without touching a drop?” Cole sneered, his brow furrowing as he looked at me. “Who wants to marry Vivienne? Her grades were awful, she’s short, and her looks are painfully average. Marry her? She’d taint the Harrington gene pool.” His gaze was laced with a deep, unmistakable disgust. It was the exact same venomous tongue as my past life. Back then, I was so blinded by love I thought it was just our usual childhood banter. I never realized that Cole genuinely despised me. Snapping out of my daze, I immediately took two steps back. “Mrs. Harrington… Cole and I are just friends.” The words dropped, and the bustling ballroom went dead silent. Everyone in elite society knew the Vances and Harringtons were century-old allies. And everyone knew I had been hopelessly in love with Cole Harrington since we were kids. Mrs. Harrington’s smile stiffened. She pulled her eyes away from me and sharply slapped her son’s shoulder. “Stop talking nonsense! If our family manages to marry Vivi, it means we hit the absolute jackpot.” Cole clearly hadn’t expected me to reject him. His already icy expression dropped a few degrees colder. My hands shook as I tugged at Wyatt’s tuxedo jacket. My eyes were red. “I don’t feel well,” I whispered. “I want to go home.” The corporate marriage wasn’t urgent. Wyatt immediately raised his hand to summon his driver. But in the next second, Cole grabbed my wrist. He practically dragged me toward the exit, his voice hard. “Wyatt, I’ll take Vivi home myself.” His grip was like a vice; I couldn’t pry his fingers off. I wanted to call out for help, but when I looked back, Mrs. Harrington had expertly stepped in front of my brother to block his path. The moment we stepped out of the hotel doors, Cole ruthlessly threw my hand away. Off-balance, my high heels betrayed me. I stumbled backward. Out of pure instinct, I reached my hand out toward him to catch myself. Cole hadn’t anticipated the fall. He reached out to grab me, but my reflexes kicked in faster. I violently yanked my hand back and crashed hard onto the concrete pavement. A sharp, shooting pain radiated up my spine. My face twisted in agony. Cole’s expression shifted. He stepped forward to help me up. “Don’t come near me,” I snapped without a second of hesitation. Catching my breath, I unbuckled the designer stilettos, pushed myself off the ground with my bare hands, and stood up. My reaction turned Cole’s face completely dark. He sneered, “What kind of game is this? Playing hard to get? Vivienne, since when did your tricks get so pathetic?” I looked up at him. Without realizing it, tears had pooled in my eyes. “Cole…” There was so much I wanted to say, so much pain I wanted to hurl at him. But meeting his eyes—seeing that same profound disgust—every word felt like a fishbone lodged in my throat. I looked down and let out a broken laugh. Before he could speak again, I threw the ten-thousand-dollar heels onto the pavement, turned my back, and walked away barefoot without a single ounce of hesitation. Those shoes were a coming-of-age gift from Cole. Mrs. Harrington had told me he spent weeks picking them out. Knowing how important tonight’s gala was, I specifically chose to wear them. But I forgot that the shoes were a half-size too big. They didn’t belong to me. Just like I forgot that forcing a fit with the wrong person will never work out. Chapter 2 Cole didn’t chase after me. To him, this was just another calculated, manipulative stunt to get his attention. When I finally got home, I climbed into the bathtub, feeling entirely drained. My mind was a hurricane, spinning with every horrific event from my past life. My hands clamped down on the edges of the porcelain tub, shaking uncontrollably. The water slowly crept over my nose, and I choked violently, coughing up water as I scrambled out of the tub, finally fully awake. I wrapped myself in a robe and stared at the mirror. This face had no burn scars. It was flawless. I touched my cheeks, bowed my head, and began to sob hysterically. In my past life, the Harrington estate caught fire. Cole didn’t hesitate; he scooped up his first love, his “golden girl,” and carried her out to safety, leaving me behind. I was left trapped in the flames. By the time the firefighters pulled me out, my face was irreparably destroyed. Afterward, Cole explained it away. “I didn’t see you. Chloe’s legs were pinned under a beam, and the fire was spreading too fast. I had to save her first.” Remembering that, I raised my hand and slapped myself hard across the cheek. It was laughable. I was as stupid as a dog in that life, played like a fiddle by Cole’s empty excuses. Maybe because the shock of rebirth was so heavy, I tossed and turned all night, trapped in nightmares of the past. When I woke up the next morning, my entire body ached with exhaustion. Perhaps noticing something was wrong last night, Wyatt—who usually left for the corporate office at dawn—was sitting downstairs waiting for me. “Come eat breakfast since you’re up.” Wyatt looked at the dark circles under my eyes, a flash of deep heartache crossing his face. “Did I wake you up when I came in late last night?” I shook my head, my eyes watering as I sprinted into his arms. I hugged my brother with everything I had. Wyatt froze for a second, then set his newspaper down and gently patted my back. He spoke softly. “If loving the Harrington boy is too exhausting, then stop loving him, okay? Even if you never marry in this lifetime, I can take care of you forever.” I sniffled, choking back a sob. The truth was, the families didn’t strictly need an alliance. Wyatt had just noticed how deeply I loved Cole, so he paved the road for me. Remembering how Wyatt had died taking a bullet for me in my past life, my chest tightened with agonizing pain. I hugged him even tighter. Until a light cough broke the silence. I turned my head, my eyes still red. I hadn’t noticed a man sitting on the adjacent sofa. With tears blurring my vision, I couldn’t make out his face at first. The man smirked. “Good morning, Princess.” I blinked in shock, quickly stepping out of Wyatt’s arms as I recognized Liam Sullivan. He was Wyatt’s closest friend. In my past life, after my brother was murdered, it was Liam who hunted down the killer and beat him to death with his bare hands. The last time I saw him, he was behind the glass in a state penitentiary. He told me he wanted to take me away. He told me Wyatt’s death wasn’t a simple kidnapping. But I was blinded by love. I genuinely believed that Cole, a man I had known for decades, could never be involved in something so sinister. By the time I realized Liam was right, I was bleeding out on the interstate. In a daze, I also remembered the very last voice I heard before I died. “Why are you here?” I blurted out in shock. At this hour, Liam should have been dead to the world, sleeping off another wild night of partying. Liam raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Ahem,” Wyatt cleared his throat, gesturing toward the breakfast spread. I nodded, sat down, and started eating, sneaking glances at the man behind me every so often. After a few bites, Wyatt hesitated before asking, “Vivi, did Cole do something to upset you recently?” I looked at my brother, not quite understanding. Wyatt unlocked his phone and pulled up Cole’s latest Instagram story. It was a photo of a foggy mountain peak at dawn. The caption read: “What do I do? I made the princess angry. How do I coax her back?” My fingers clamped around my spoon, my entire body trembling with a rage I couldn’t suppress. In my past life, it was this exact post that tricked me into believing Cole actually cared about me. It wasn’t until much later I discovered that his “princess” was his first love, Chloe Jenkins. It was never me. The warm oatmeal suddenly tasted like wax. I couldn’t swallow it. I lowered my eyes, my voice shaking. “Wyatt, I don’t want to talk about Cole ever again.” In this life, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. The twenty years I spent loving him was nothing but pathetic, unrequited delusion. Wyatt paused. He didn’t say a word. He just opened his text thread with Cole—a thread where Wyatt had been asking him if I made it home safe—and ruthlessly blocked and deleted the contact. He smiled warmly. “As long as your brother is around, you will never suffer a single grievance.” Tears welled in my eyes again. Wyatt was always like this. He chose me without hesitation. When I loved Cole, he built the bridge. When I hated him, he’d gladly burn it down. Chapter 3 After breakfast, Wyatt took me to his corporate headquarters. Originally, I was supposed to inherit the company. But because I was so obsessed with marrying Cole, I wanted to dedicate all my time to him. I practically never showed up to work, which caused massive operational issues. Wyatt had to abandon his ventures in Europe just to come back and clean up my mess. The employees all knew about my obsession with Cole. As I walked through the lobby, an assistant covertly tried to hand me a limited-edition movie poster of Cole. Before I could even react, a hand shot out, snatched the poster, crushed it into a ball, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. I looked up. It was Liam. Wyatt’s voice rang out coolly. “From this day forward, no merchandise or mention of Cole Harrington is permitted in this building.” It hit me then—I had almost forgotten that Cole was an A-list Hollywood actor. Once we got into the executive office, Wyatt instructed his assistant, “Pass the word down. Tear down any posters of Cole Harrington in the breakrooms. And also…” “Wyatt, you don’t have to go that far,” I interrupted. After all, Vance Corp still had massive business dealings with the Harringtons. Wyatt saw through my worry. He shook his head with a light laugh. “I told you, you won’t suffer any grievances.” With a wave of his hand, he sent the assistant off to execute the order. Wyatt had to step out for an emergency board meeting, leaving just me and Liam in the massive office. I didn’t actually interact much with Liam. The only thing I knew about him was that he had been hopelessly in love with a girl for years, but couldn’t have her because she loved someone else. Feeling his intense gaze on me, I awkwardly looked away. A moment later, my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out, stared at the screen for three seconds, and hung up without hesitation. Liam raised a brow, amused. “Not gonna answer?” “Spam call,” I said, my face dropping into a scowl. A second later, a text popped up: [I’m sick. Bring me medicine.] Followed immediately by a hotel room number. I stared at the screen, my brow furrowing deeply, completely oblivious that Liam had stood up and walked over. By the time I noticed, Liam was smirking over my shoulder. “Well, well. Who’s sending our princess hotel room numbers?” My situational awareness was usually top-tier. In the past, I could sense Cole walking into a room before I even saw him. But this time, I jumped, clutching my chest as I gasped for air. Liam seemed equally surprised by my severe reaction. He grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to me, though he couldn’t resist a jab. “That room number looks familiar. Isn’t that the Harrington golden boy’s permanent suite at the Ritz?” Every heir in our circle had a dedicated suite at the top hotels. Cole’s room was always 0726. In my past life, I never thought twice about it. But now, it clicked with sickening clarity. July 26th. Chloe’s birthday. My fingers began to tremble violently. Liam, who had been teasing me just a second ago, instantly sensed the shift. His smirk vanished, replaced by a dark frown. “What is it? Did that Harrington punk put his hands on you?” “I might not be good at corporate politics,” Liam added, his voice dropping low, “but I’m excellent at breaking bones.” I shook my head quickly, then immediately blocked and deleted Cole’s number. “He’s an insignificant person now. It’s not worth getting into trouble over someone who doesn’t matter,” I said, looking up at Liam. His eyes were incredibly intense, holding a flirtatious depth that made my face flush. Liam clearly didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push it. Chapter 4 Back in suite 0726, Cole was waiting for his medicine. Yesterday, someone had witnessed our fight outside the gala, and the elite group chats were having a field day. [Ooh, trouble in paradise? The childhood sweethearts breaking up?] [The Vance princess looked genuinely pissed this time.] [Cole, stop pissing Vivi off. If she actually stops caring about you one day, you’ll cry yourself to sleep.] Reading the messages, Cole let out a cold, arrogant scoff. He had known Vivienne since they were toddlers. He knew her personality inside and out. Once she showed up with the medicine, he’d buy her a cheap designer trinket, and she’d immediately go back to being his pathetic, loyal puppy. They had played this game a thousand times. He was genuinely getting bored of it. He lounged on the velvet sofa, scrolling through TikTok for over half an hour, but his medicine never arrived. The group chat was still popping off, people asking if she had come crawling back yet. The relentless teasing finally struck a nerve. Cole aggressively closed the app, opened his pinned contacts, and dialed her number. Call failed. He froze. He stared at the screen, bewildered, and dialed again. Call failed. The young heir of the Harrington empire had never been blocked a day in his life. He didn’t even know what the dial tone meant. He had to Google it. When he read the search results, he sat entirely paralyzed for a full minute. When reality finally set in, his face contorted in rage. He hurled his brand-new iPhone against the marble floor, shattering it into a dozen pieces. “Vivienne Vance. You’ve got nerve.” Miles away, I had no idea what kind of tantrum Cole was throwing, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. By the time Wyatt finished his board meeting, it was past noon. Liam stretched lazily and suggested, “Let’s get hotpot. I’m craving it.” I looked at Liam. Whenever I was in a terrible mood, I loved eating insanely spicy hotpot. I would eat until my lips went numb so I wouldn’t have the brain capacity to think about my miserable life. Cole had definitely ruined my morning, but right now, I felt surprisingly free. Wyatt didn’t know the context, but seeing I had no objections, he told his assistant to book a table for three. We went to our usual high-end spot. Walking through the doors, a wave of nostalgia hit me. In my past life, when I got pregnant, Cole claimed spicy food would stunt the baby’s development. For nine excruciating months, I wasn’t allowed to touch a single drop of chili oil. To hell with Cole Harrington. To hell with his rules. The moment we sat down, I ordered everything on the menu, telling the manager, “I want the broth entirely spicy. Extra spicy. Lethal.” It was the first time I had ever shown such a fiery temper. Even the manager looked a bit shocked. Suddenly, I remembered Wyatt telling me once that Liam couldn’t handle spice at all. I quickly corrected myself, “Wait, make it a split pot, please.” We were seated in a private VIP room, so I didn’t have to worry about maintaining the elegant socialite facade. When the food arrived, I dove in, practically inhaling the beef. Wyatt shot Liam a curious look, communicating silently. Liam just waved his hand dismissively. But midway through the meal, a loud commotion erupted outside our private doors. I hated loud noises. Hearing the shouting, my face instantly scrunched up. Seeing my reaction, Liam raised a hand and flagged down the manager. “I’m buying out the restaurant for the rest of the afternoon. Let the current guests finish, but don’t seat anyone else. It’s getting too loud.” He pulled out a sleek black Amex card. The manager didn’t take it. He looked terrified. “Mr. Sullivan… it’s the Harrington boy. He just walked in.” Neither the Vances nor the Harringtons were people a restaurant manager could afford to offend. He was paralyzed. I stopped chewing. Before any of us could react, a voice cut through the tension faster than the door opening. “Wyatt, you don’t mind if I bring a plus-one, do you?” Chapter 5 Cole strode into the room without waiting for an answer. Before anyone could reject him, he waved a hand behind him. Chloe Jenkins, dressed in a form-fitting silk dress, stepped out from behind his shadow. She offered a sickeningly sweet smile. “Pardon the intrusion, everyone.” Cole pulled out a chair and sat down right across from me. Facing Wyatt and Liam’s deadly glares, he smiled effortlessly. “Suddenly had a craving for hotpot. This is my assistant, Chloe. We went to high school together, figured it was a good time for everyone to meet…” “I refuse,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. Crashing our private lunch like this was something Cole had never done before. I didn’t understand what he was playing at, and I didn’t care to figure it out. Chloe, who had been halfway through sitting down, immediately stood back up, acting deeply wronged. She looked at Cole with huge, teary eyes. Cole’s casual smile vanished instantly. Completely ignoring my brother’s presence, he issued a cold warning. “Vivienne, if you keep throwing these tantrums, I swear to God I will never speak to you again.” The entire room fell into a suffocating silence. Even the manager, who had been secretly wiping sweat from his forehead, froze in place. Wyatt’s face turned thunderous. He opened his mouth to absolutely decimate Cole, but I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. I looked Cole dead in the eye. “Please. Never speak to me again. Cole Harrington, from today onward—no, from yesterday onward—we are complete strangers. Whether you live or die has absolutely nothing to do with me.” I never want to love Cole again. I never want to know him again. This was the vow I repeated to myself all night long. Cole’s entire body went rigid. He clearly never expected me to say something so final. His eyes darted to Liam, who was sitting comfortably beside me. Cole didn’t recognize Liam. Assuming he was just some young, fresh-faced heir, Cole sneered mockingly. “Ha. No wonder you cut ties with me so fast. You already had a backup lined up.” “You really have no shame, Vivienne. Professing your undying love to me yesterday, booking a private room with another guy today.” “Then again, a pretty boy like this does have a decent face.” His insults flowed effortlessly, turning the air in the room dangerously cold. Even Chloe felt the shift; she desperately tugged at Cole’s jacket under the table, but he ignored her. Liam just laughed. He leaned back in his chair, radiating an arrogant, untouchable aura. He didn’t seem angry at the insults at all. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and pointed directly at Chloe. Cole didn’t understand the gesture. Not until a horde of paparazzi burst through the restaurant’s front doors. Liam clapped his hands lazily. He smirked. “If Vivi actually liked me, it would be the honor of my life. But an A-list actor caught secretly hooking up with his assistant? I wonder if that headline is explosive enough?” He threw a flirtatious wink at the flashing cameras. The reporters, entirely seduced by the drama, instantly swarmed Cole and Chloe, cornering them against the table. Before I could even process what was happening, Liam grabbed my hand, pulled me up, and sneaked me out the back exit. I hadn’t expected Liam to speak up for me. Remembering what he just said, my heart skipped a strange beat before settling back down. “Liam, thank you.” I turned to look for my brother. Wyatt, usually the epitome of calm, was furiously barking orders into his phone at his executive assistant. “Set up a meeting with the Harrington board. Let’s see exactly how they raised this bastard of a son.” “And run a full background check on Chloe Jenkins and her exact relationship with Cole!” He didn’t skip a beat. Wyatt was still burning with rage. I gently grabbed his hand. Originally, I just wanted to quietly sever ties with the Harringtons and never see them again. But I knew Wyatt. He would never let anyone disrespect me like that, and Cole’s insults had crossed a massive line. “Wyatt, Cole’s words can’t hurt me anymore. I just want you…” I paused, looking over at Liam as well. “I just want you both to be safe, healthy, and alive.”

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