Category: English

After caring for my paralyzed husband for over a decade and giving him a dignified funeral, I took our yellowed marriage certificate to claim his inheritance. But the clerk told me the certificate was a fake. My husband’s legal spouse was someone else. My cousin, who had lived in my house for over thirty years, smugly pulled out her own marriage certificate: “Look closely. I am Richard’s legal wife!” Furious, I lunged at her. But my adopted son blocked me. “My parents took pity on you because you were childless and let you be our housekeeper. Now you want to steal my dad’s inheritance? Have you no shame?” Enraged, I slapped him. “If you hadn’t demanded to go play by the river back then, my son wouldn’t have drowned!” My cousin laughed maniacally. “If your son hadn’t died, how would you have willingly raised mine?” The rage was too much. I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the flood. Richard had locked me in the house to stop me from saving my son. 1 “What? You let Andy take your war buddy’s orphan to play by the river? Don’t you know Andy can’t swim? The river has been flooding lately, didn’t you know?!” My voice was shrill as I screamed at Richard. Under his surprised gaze, I turned to leave. “I don’t trust two kids by the river alone. I’m going to get them!” Before I could reach the door, Richard grabbed my arm. “When I came back, they were having fun. Don’t be a buzzkill.” “Country kids grow up in the mountains and rivers. You’re just being dramatic, trying to keep the boy locked up inside!” “Every kid in town is like this. If you can’t raise him right, I’ll take him to the city! You’ll never see him again!” His words were exactly the same as in my past life. Back then, terrified he would take my son away, I listened to him. I hesitated. That hesitation cost my six-year-old son his life. He was swept away by the flood, his body found a day later by villagers downstream. I could never forget his wet, pale body, cold and stiff in my arms. Every night, I saw him in my dreams, reaching out, crying, “Mommy, save me!” My heart felt pierced by a thousand blades. But my husband, snoring beside me, complained my crying was annoying. He said my grief made him and his adopted son, Jacob, look heartless. He said Andy’s death was just an accident, and my crying was just guilt-tripping them. Because of him, I only dared to cry in secret. The stress caused me to miscarry my four-month-old baby, plunging me deeper into despair. Thinking of this, I struggled against Richard’s grip. My cousin, Linda, blocked the door. “Cousin, kids need to be tough! There are tons of kids by the river, nobody else is drowning! Relax!” I bit my lip. “Andy is small. And Jacob—he’s your buddy’s only son. Aren’t you worried?” Richard tightened his grip. “Jacob is smart, don’t worry about him! You’re pregnant, stop running around! Linda rarely visits, go cook something nice for her!” I stared at Richard. Why was he stopping me? In my past life, they never blocked me like this. A chill ran down my spine. Did they come back too? Even tigers don’t eat their cubs. In the past life, it might have been an accident. This time, they were plotting murder! Any minute now, the flash flood would hit. If I didn’t go now, it would be too late! I dug my nails into my palm to stay calm. I couldn’t let them know I knew. Or they might kill me and my unborn child right here. These two had no conscience. Richard used a fake marriage certificate to enslave me for forty years. I cared for his senile parents, raised his son, and tended to him when he was paralyzed. And in the end? He left me homeless and penniless. Now, he wanted to kill my son again so I would continue to be their beast of burden? Rage boiled in my chest, but I forced my body not to shake. “I’m just going to get some vegetables. We’re out of meat, and I ate the eggs. I’ll go borrow some from Mrs. Miller next door!” Linda stopped me immediately. “No need, Cousin! I rarely visit, don’t spend money on me. I’ll eat anything!” Richard’s face darkened. “I’ll go. You rest.” 2 As he walked to the door, Linda followed, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Cousin, I’ll go with you!” Watching them leave together, intimate and shameless. I hated my past self for being so blind. I had seen them being close but thought, they’re cousins. I never suspected a thing. Once their footsteps faded, I rushed to the door. It wouldn’t open. Through the crack, I saw a padlock on the latch. My heart turned to ice. He really wasn’t giving me a chance. Hearing footsteps outside, I yelled to passing kids, asking if they’d seen my son. They told me Andy wanted to come home, but the new kid wouldn’t let him leave. Now, it was almost dark. Only Andy and his new “friend” were left by the river. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. Richard was so confident leaving Jacob there. Did all three of them come back? If so, my six-year-old didn’t stand a chance against a thirty-something soul in a child’s body. Jacob would throw him in. I begged the kids to find Richard at Mrs. Miller’s. It was a few minutes away. I waited half an hour. I even started the rice cooker. No Richard. I sent villagers twice more. Finally, Richard and Linda returned, laughing, holding a few eggs. Richard explained casually under my furious gaze, “Habit. I locked it without thinking. Got talking with Mrs. Miller’s son. You don’t go out anyway.” Seeing their lingering smiles, my panic subsided. I asked calmly, “It’s getting dark. They aren’t back. Should we look for them?” Richard glanced at the sky. “It’s fine. Boys need to build guts.” Linda smiled. “Cousin, kids love to play. Don’t worry.” I looked them deep in the eyes. “Richard, Jacob is your buddy’s orphan. You’re not worried at all?” Richard paused, then relaxed. “Jacob is a big boy. He can take care of himself!” I said flatly, “Fine. Not my kid, not my problem.” They didn’t know I had already sent my brother to fetch Andy and take him to his house. The only kid by the river now was Jacob. Let’s see if his luck holds up in this life! 3 “Flood! Flash flood by the river! Get your kids and livestock!” The village chief’s gong clanged from the edge of town. I stood up abruptly. “The kids aren’t back! Richard, go find them!” Richard and Linda frowned but didn’t move. “Why are you panicking? It’s water. Kids can run.” I sneered internally. They were so sure my son was the one dying. Seeing me anxious, Richard pushed me down. “Sit. You’re pregnant. I’ll go.” I feigned worry and followed him to the village entrance. Villagers heard my kids were still out and offered to help search. Richard walked slowly. “My boys are smart. Thanks, but you guys go do your work. They’re fine!” The villagers were annoyed. “Last year, grown men got swept away! It’s dark! Hurry up!” I sped up. Suddenly, Linda “tripped” into me, knocking me down. She clutched her stomach, looking pale. Richard roared at me. “What are you doing?! Help her home! She’s frail! If anything happens to her, it’s on you!” I froze. “What about the kids?” “What can happen? I’ll call them!” I had to help Linda home. Passing my brother’s house, I saw him holding my sleeping son. Tears welled up. Near my house, I ran into Richard. “Why didn’t you look for them?” I demanded. “They’re big boys! I shouted, they’ll hear me. Linda is in pain, I have to prioritize!” I sneered and walked home. In the distance, the roar of the flood grew louder. Screams erupted from the other side of the village. People were running toward my house. The fastest runner arrived, gasping. “Sarah! A kid got swept away! Go check if it’s yours! The chief is organizing a rescue!” “What?” Richard and Linda gasped. But their faces held barely concealed joy. I stayed calm. I hoped they’d keep smiling when they found out who it was. Jacob might be reborn, but he was in a child’s body. He couldn’t outrun a flash flood. I stammered, “Impossible! It can’t be Andy! Richard called them back!” Richard chimed in, “Yeah, can’t be my son! You made a mistake!” He added, “I want to help rescue, but I have a pregnant wife and a sick guest. I can’t leave!” The villager scratched his head. “But… they said the kid was wearing green. Only Andy wears green.” Richard and Linda’s smiles widened. Linda looked at me with mock pity. Richard pretended to panic. “Impossible! Andy is smart!” I shrieked, “Definitely not Andy! Wait, Richard, didn’t you bring your buddy’s orphan? Could it be…” “Impossible!” Linda snapped. “Jacob is wearing blue! Only Andy wears green!” 4 I nodded. “If you say so!” Raising Jacob for thirty years, I knew his vanity. Richard made Jacob wear tattered clothes to gain sympathy. But Andy had new clothes. Certain Andy would die, Jacob must have stolen Andy’s clothes beforehand. Watching their smug faces, I smiled. “I’ll go make eggs. Andy loves scrambled eggs!” Just as I entered the kitchen, another messenger arrived. “Sarah! Your kid was pulled out! They did CPR but he needs a hospital! You have the only bike, go now! Or it’ll be too late!” “What? How could it be my kid?” I cried, urging Richard. “Ride the bike! Save him!” Under public pressure, Richard wheeled out the bike. Linda insisted on going. She hopped on the back, claiming she knew first aid. Watching them leave, I walked to my brother’s house. Seeing the little boy who haunted my dreams in my past life, safe and sound, I wept.

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1 My mother-in-law was having a heart attack. My husband, a top cardiac surgeon, was the only one who could save her. I didn’t call him for help. I just stood there and watched, my eyes cold, as she took her last agonizing breath in front of me. In my last life, when she had this heart attack, I called my husband immediately. He accused me of being a jealous, manipulative wife, faking an emergency just to drag him home. He refused to come. She died in the hospital. And when my father-in-law demanded to know why, my husband swore I had never called him, pinning the entire blame for his mother’s death on me. My father-in-law, consumed by hatred, stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day. … “Eva, Dr. Chen is the only one who can perform this surgery. You have to get him here now. If he’s not here within the hour, she’s not going to make it.” When I came to, my mother-in-law, Helen, was already on the hospital bed, her breaths shallow and ragged. The situation was critical. On instinct, I pulled out my phone and started to walk away. But after two steps, the image of my father-in-law butchering me flashed through my mind. I hadn’t died after the last stab wound. I remember looking down, my stomach a bloody, mangled mess. A shiver ran down my spine. My husband, Liam, loves to dodge responsibility, doesn’t he? Well, not this time. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before he finally picked up. “What is it?” Liam’s voice was sharp with annoyance. My own voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. “Liam, it’s your mom. She’s had a heart attack. We’re at your hospital, and the head nurse said you’re the only one who can do the surgery. You have to come, please.” There was a pause, then his tone turned cold with fury. “Eva, are you serious right now? I take Winona to the mall for a few hours, and you pull a stunt like this? You’re using my mother’s life to score jealousy points? Have you lost your mind?” “No, I’m not,” I whimpered. “She’s really—” “Liam, honey… I don’t feel so good.” A sweet, delicate voice cut me off. “Winona? Are you okay?” Liam’s voice instantly shifted to panicked concern. He didn’t forget to hiss a final threat into the phone. “Eva, I hope you’re happy now. And you better stop cursing my mother with these fake illnesses, or I swear to God, you’ll regret it.” He hung up. I looked up. The faces of the emergency room staff around me were a mixture of awkwardness and pity. I offered them a helpless smile. Last time, I’d rushed out of the room to make the call, trying not to upset Helen further. But when everything went to hell, Liam, terrified of the hospital’s reprimand and his father’s wrath, denied I had ever contacted him. This time, I made sure to make the call in front of everyone. I needed witnesses. But that wasn’t enough. I hit redial. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth try, the call wouldn’t go through. He’d blocked me. I leaned over Helen’s bed. “Mom, just hang on. Liam wouldn’t just leave you.” She was still conscious. As I said those words, her monitor shrieked, the lines going haywire. The doctors and nurses jolted into action, a chaotic ballet of desperation. The head nurse pulled me out of the room, her face grim. “Eva, her situation is deteriorating rapidly. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to get Dr. Chen here. Now.” “But he won’t answer my calls,” I cried, my voice thick with panic. “Then try someone else’s phone.” She disappeared back into the room, leaving me alone in the hallway. Someone else’s phone? I borrowed phones from two different nurses. Both times, as soon as Liam heard my voice, he hung up. The head nurse had given me a direct order. I had to find another way. Wiping my tears, I opened the app for the city’s biggest livestreamer, a guy who ran a channel called “HelpForce Live.” I sent the biggest virtual gift they had. A moment later, I was live with him. “Hello, HelpForce,” I began, my voice choked with sobs. “I’m just a regular person, but I’m in a terrible situation. My mother-in-law has had a sudden heart attack, and Dr. Liam Chen is the only surgeon who can save her. But he won’t take my calls. He’s at the city center mall right now. If anyone sees him, please, tell him to get to St. Jude’s Hospital immediately. His mother only has about forty minutes left.” I finished, my whole body shaking, and sent the streamer a photo of Liam. The streamer hesitated. “Ma’am, I understand you’re upset, but doctors have private lives too. We can’t just ambush him because you say it’s an emergency. This could be a serious invasion of his privacy, so…” 2 Before he could finish, the head nurse burst out of the ER again. “Have you reached him? She’s worse than we thought.” I shook my head, my heart sinking. “That man is completely unreliable,” she muttered. Just then, another nurse poked her head out. “Charge nurse! Patient is in cardiac arrest! Get the crash cart!” Cardiac arrest. The words hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen for a long moment. Then, as if waking from a trance, I bolted for the elevators. I stabbed the button for the top floor. The hospital’s CEO and all the department heads were in the middle of a board meeting. When I threw the door open, the room fell silent. Every eye turned to me. I spotted Liam’s boss, Dr. Peterson, the head of cardiology. I ran to him and dropped to my knees. “Dr. Peterson, please, you have to save my mother-in-law! She’s dying in the ER!” His face darkened. “Isn’t there a doctor in the emergency room? Why have you come all the way up here?” “Dr. Peterson, I’m Liam Chen’s wife,” I sobbed. “The doctors down there said only Liam can perform her surgery, but he… he can’t make it. Your skills are legendary. Please, you’re the only one who can save her now.” Hearing my story, the CEO gave Dr. Peterson a nod. He agreed to go down and assess the situation. When he heard the full story of my unanswered calls, Dr. Peterson let out a string of curses. “Has Liam lost his mind? He’s always been a bit of a flake, but to abandon his own mother? Don’t you worry, I’ll call him myself.” He pulled out his phone, trying to reassure me as he dialed. The call connected almost instantly. Dr. Peterson’s voice was granite. “Liam, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. Get back to the hospital now. Your mother has had a massive heart attack, and you’re the only one who can operate.” Liam’s voice on the other end was incredulous. “Dr. Peterson? You’ve got to be kidding me. She even dragged you into her little drama? Sir, I really can’t come back right now. Please don’t fall for her act. You have no idea what this woman will say when she’s jealous. I know my mother’s health. I listened to her heart this morning myself; it was perfect. She used to pull this stunt all the time to get me home. I’m not falling for it again, and with all due respect, neither should you. I have to go.” He hung up before Dr. Peterson could get another word in. Dr. Peterson’s face was a thundercloud. He tried calling back, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Liam had turned it off. “Son of a bitch,” the normally mild-mannered director snarled, his knuckles white around his phone. “Is that man even human?” Just then, the streamer’s voice came from my phone. “You heard it here, folks. It’s real. This is not a drill. If you’re in the city, keep an eye out for Dr. Liam Chen. We need to get him to St. Jude’s!” I’d completely forgotten the livestream was still running. Everything—Dr. Peterson’s call, Liam’s callous dismissal—had been broadcast to the world. When I looked at my screen, the viewer count had jumped to thirty thousand. The chat was flying. [OMG, I was about to roast this chick for being a drama queen, but holy crap, what a plot twist.] [This guy has serious issues. His MOM is dying and he’s out with his side piece? I wanna punch him through the screen.] Seeing that comment, I quickly cried out, “Please, don’t hurt him!” Then, I handed my phone to Dr. Peterson and knelt on the floor, facing the camera. “Everyone watching, please, I’m begging you, help me find my husband. My mother-in-law has always been so good to me. I can’t just watch her die. Liam, if you’re seeing this, please come back. If you save your mother, I’ll do anything you ask.” I slammed my forehead on the cold, tiled floor, over and over again. The raw desperation of the act brought tears to the eyes of the nurses around me. “What kind of scumbag makes his wife beg like this just to save his own mother?” someone muttered. But the performance was for nothing. Half an hour later, Helen was gone. As they wheeled her body to the morgue, the head nurse patted my back. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said gently. I collapsed into her arms, my voice raw with grief. “She’s gone! I don’t have a mother-in-law anymore!” Her own voice was thick with emotion. “You did everything you possibly could, Eva.” “Eva.” A familiar voice cut through my haze of sorrow. I looked up and saw my father-in-law, Arthur. 3 Arthur had just driven in from their country home, still covered in dust and dirt from the fields. As he walked toward me, I saw the ghost of the man from my last life, the man with the knife. I instinctively took a step back. But this time, he just reached out and gently stroked my hair. “I heard the broadcast on the way here. After everything Liam put you through, you still fought so hard for her. Thank you, Eva.” I nodded, my expression a mask of grief. Inside, a wave of relief washed over me. I’d gotten away with it. Arthur went to the morgue to see his wife. The moment the white sheet was pulled back, his legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor. “Helen, my love, why couldn’t you wait for me? Why didn’t you let me see you one last time?” he wailed. “And that ungrateful son of ours… he’s the one who killed you!” Arthur and Helen had a deep, twisted kind of love. They’d married for passion, not arrangement. But neither of them was a saint. When they were young, Arthur had been so obsessed with her that he’d jumped into a river to force her to marry him. And Helen, who had been in love with someone else, was never faithful after they wed. One was dangerously obsessive, the other perpetually restless. Their life was a cycle of explosive fights. After each one, Helen would storm off to the city to stay with Liam, where she would spend her time criticizing me. She thought a simple accountant like me was lucky to have landed a brilliant surgeon, and she was the one who had introduced Liam to the beautiful and accomplished Winona. She never imagined she was digging her own grave. Arthur said he wanted some time alone with his wife, so I stepped out of the morgue. I was about to sit down and catch my breath when a voice barked my name. “Eva Chen!” A shiver of pure terror shot down my spine. In my past life, Arthur’s attack hadn’t killed me immediately. Liam had found me, bleeding out. I begged him to take me to a hospital. But he was afraid I’d tell the police what his father had done. Instead, he pressed a towel over my face and smothered me. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as he killed me. Vicious. Final. “L-Liam.” My legs turned to jelly. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He shoved his phone in my face. The video of me begging and banging my head on the floor was playing. “Are you addicted to making a scene? Humiliating our family in front of the entire city wasn’t enough for you?” I shook my head. “That’s not what happened.” “Bullshit! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through today? People are calling Winona a homewrecker, screaming at us in the street, forcing me to come here. Are you happy now?” He backed me into a corner. “You said my mother was dying. So where is she? I didn’t see her in the ER.” I pointed a trembling finger toward the morgue behind me. He still didn’t believe me. “Oh, perfect. First, you lie about a heart attack, and now you’re pretending she’s dead? Fine. You’re coming in with me. And if I don’t find a body, I swear to God, you and I are finished.” He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me inside. The moment we were through the doors, he started shouting. “Mom? Where are you? The joke’s over! Honestly, why would you go along with this crazy woman’s scheme? Do you know how embarrassing this is?” His tirade stopped cold when he saw his father. Liam frowned. “Dad? What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Eva tricked you into coming, too.” Arthur strode forward and slapped his son across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. “You ungrateful bastard,” he seethed. “It’s come to this, and you still don’t believe it? You let your own mother die for some tramp, and you have the audacity to come in here shouting?” Liam’s eyes widened. “What? It was real? Her heart attack… it was real? Then where is she?” Arthur kicked the back of his knee, hard. Liam buckled, landing on the cold floor. He looked up, and his eyes finally met the pale, lifeless face of his mother on the gurney.

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“Swapping her keynote for a draft of a Dr. Seuss book? That is absolutely savage, oh my God, I love it, LOL.” “Look at her up there, completely flustered, can’t even string a sentence together. How did she ever land an Executive VP role?” “Her husband, Owen, at the main table? His face is black. He’s probably going to file for divorce tonight.” “What do you call that? It’s a precision strike. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the corporate kitchen.” I stood on the stage, the rising chorus of snickers and whispers washing over me, holding the thin sheaf of papers that had been swapped for my actual presentation. I silenced my phone and tossed the worthless script onto the side of the lectern. Did they really think ten years of industry experience was something I read off a teleprompter? I leaned into the microphone and smiled at the sea of murmuring faces. Since the script is gone, why don’t we talk about the company’s dirty laundry for the past year—specifically, those few questionable “business expenses” some people have quietly run through the general ledger. 1 The buzzing chorus of laughter hammered at my ears. My fingers tightened around the few sheets of A4 paper. They didn’t hold the annual financial review; they held a transcript from a children’s show—A Coloring Book Rhapsody, if I recall correctly. It was a perfectly executed maneuver. At the front, at the main VIP table, Sienna Cole was clutching her mouth, shaking with unrestrained glee. Next to her, my husband, Owen Price, the Vice President of Sales, had his head bowed so low he looked ready to dive under the mahogany. He was humiliated. Not because someone had targeted his wife, but because he believed I, his wife, was making a spectacle of myself, embarrassing him, the high-flying VP. The projector screen, meant to display our revenue growth charts, was a mess of scrambled code. Clearly, my USB drive had been compromised too. Three hundred people in the ballroom. Six hundred eyes. All waiting for me to crack. A few ambitious junior staff had already raised their phones, ready to capture this spectacular corporate failure for the company group chat or a viral clip. “Ms. Nash, what’s the holdup?” Dave Miller, the Administrative Manager and a known lapdog of Sienna’s clique, called out with a venomous sweetness. “Are the words too big? Do you need me to come up and sound them out for you?” Another wave of roaring laughter. Owen finally lifted his head, his features tight with open disgust. He waved a frantic hand signal—Get down, now. You’re making a scene. In the past, I might have panicked. I would have felt my eyes sting, fumbled off the stage, and hidden in the ladies’ room to cry. I came from Finance. I was a numbers person. I was articulate with spreadsheets, not people. Not like Sienna, who was a master manipulator, charming clients and confusing the executives in equal measure. But today was different. I had endured this for three months, precisely for this moment. I crumpled the children’s script into a tight sphere. With a flick of my wrist, I lobbed the paper ball. It sailed over the first row and landed with a distinct plop right in the center of Owen’s bowl of lobster bisque. Silence hit the room. Owen shot up, wiping a smear of creamy pink soup from his cheek, his eyes wide and ready to detonate. I didn’t give him the chance. I tapped the microphone twice with my index finger. “Sshhh—” The sharp feedback whine made everyone wince and cover their ears. The chaos evaporated. “Since none of us want to listen to platitudes, let’s talk about something a little more stimulating.” I braced both hands on the lectern, my gaze a deliberate, slow-motion scanner sweeping across the faces at the main table. “Ms. Cole, I heard you closed a three-hundred-million-dollar deal in Europe last month?” Sienna froze, then puffed up her chest, a smug grin replacing her shock. “You’re well informed, Ms. Nash. But that’s Sales territory. An internal audit specialist shouldn’t worry so much about other departments; it causes wrinkles.” Her little cheer squad snickered again. I joined them, my smile icy. “You’re right. I’m in Audit. That’s why I’m curious: what kind of client requires a two-hundred-and-eighty-thousand-dollar ‘public relations’ expenditure on your corporate card at a high-end designer boutique—an expenditure, mind you, for which we have no invoice?” The smile solidified on Sienna’s face. “And how is it, Ms. Cole, that the merchant code for the same expense—though labeled ‘gift purchasing’ in our system—shows up in our transfer records as a five-star couples-only resort in Paris?” The audience erupted in a collective gasp. The people who had been filming my meltdown now swiveled their phones toward Sienna. The look of naked guilt on her face was far more entertaining than any children’s script could ever be. “You… you’re lying!” She stumbled to her feet, her finger trembling as it pointed at me. “Vivian Nash, this is slander! I will sue you!” “Sue me?” I took a voice-activated recorder from my pocket, spinning it once between my thumb and forefinger. “On the 14th of last month, at nine in the evening, you submitted a car service receipt to the reimbursement system for a trip from the office to the Peninsula Hotel, total fare: a hundred and eighty dollars.” “But I have a recording from Owen’s vehicle dashcam that suggests you didn’t go to the hotel at all. You went to the suburban villa that belongs to Vice President Price.” This time, it was Owen’s turn to lose his composure. He was still wiping the bisque from his face, and his napkin fell to the floor, forgotten. Owen and I have been married for seven years. In those seven years, I was the rock. I helped him climb from junior accountant to Vice President. To avoid any appearance of conflict, I volunteered to run the most thankless, grueling internal audit unit. He told me the company was preparing for an IPO and that he needed me, his most trusted person, to protect the perimeter. I believed him. I spent my nights digging through the accounts, plugging the financial leaks. And what was he doing? I was protecting our territory; he was helping another woman buy designer bags. That suburban villa? We bought it as our retirement home. Only he and I had the keys. Last week, when I went to clean it, I found an earring wedged deep in the sofa cushion. I recognized it immediately. Sienna had flaunted it on social media: a limited-edition piece from a major brand. The only pair in the city. Owen was terrified. He rushed over to Sienna, shoving her back into her seat. Then he spun around, yelling at me. “Vivian! Are you drunk? This is the Annual Gala! The Chairman is here! What the hell are you doing? Stop this insanity!” “I’m not drunk.” I stared straight into his frantic eyes. “Owen, I haven’t even had a toast yet. How could I be?” “Security! Where is Security!” Owen roared toward the doors. “Drag this crazy woman out of here! She’s mentally unstable!” No one moved. Because Mr. Robert Harrington, the Chairman, was seated at the head table, a glass of Cabernet in his hand, watching the entire spectacle with an unreadable expression. Mr. Harrington hates dishonesty more than incompetence. Until he gave the word, the head of security wouldn’t dare lift a finger. Seeing no help coming, Owen rolled up his sleeves and charged the stage himself. “Get down here, now!” His face, contorted with rage and fear, looked nothing like the polished, charming VP he usually portrayed. I watched the man I had loved for seven years charge at me like a cornered, rabid dog. “Owen Price, if you touch me, I will upload the evidence of your five-million-dollar corporate fund embezzlement via futures trading to the All-Hands company email list.” Owen’s feet jammed hard on the carpet. He stopped barely six feet away, his entire body rigid, his face bloodless. “You… what did you say?” “Five million.” I held up five fingers, waving them slightly in front of him. “And that was just last quarter’s deficit. This month, to cover that hole, you privately approved contracts with three unqualified vendors put forward by Sienna. How much in kickbacks did you clear on that? A million? Two?” Owen’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. “Vivian, let’s go home and talk about this…” His voice softened, pleading. “There are hundreds of people here. Show me some respect.” “Respect?” I laughed, a sharp, cold sound. “You talk about respect? Did you respect me when you swapped my keynote for a child’s script?” “That… that was a misunderstanding!” “Misunderstanding my ass!” I slammed the voice recorder hard onto the stage floor. “This recorder holds more than just Sienna’s overtime confession. It holds the complete audio of you two plotting in the break room—how to squeeze me out and how to pin that five-million-dollar fraud on me.” “Owen, I’m done playing your wife.” “Today, at this celebration, you two are my sacrificial lambs.” A dead silence descended upon the room. Even the servers pouring wine froze, their carafes suspended in mid-air. This is the corporate world. The same people who were just laughing at me were now shrinking in their seats, terrified the fire would spread. They weren’t afraid of me; they were afraid of the ledger book in my head. I ran Internal Audit for three years. I knew where every single penny in this company went. I kept quiet before for the sake of the Chairman, for the company’s reputation. But today, reputation was a luxury I was willing to sacrifice. “Who else?” My eyes drifted to Dave Miller, the Administrative Manager who had been the loudest voice of ridicule. Dave was trying to subtly edge himself under the table. “Dave Miller, why are you hiding?” I called his name. Dave jerked, scrambling back to his feet, his face sickly pale. “V-Vivian… Ms. Nash, I’m sorry, I’ve had too much to drink. I misspoke…” “Too much to drink?” I nodded slowly. “Good. Alcohol loosens the tongue. Why don’t you tell everyone here why the office chairs your department purchased were billed at twenty-eight hundred dollars a piece when the market value is eight hundred?” Dave’s forehead was instantly slick with cold sweat. “That… that’s a brand premium…” “Which brand?” I pressed the attack. “Was it a counterfeit brand with a sticker slapped on it, or was it your brother-in-law’s shell factory?” People near Dave quickly shifted their chairs away. “You purchased two hundred chairs. That’s a difference of four hundred thousand dollars. Did you keep that money all to yourself, or did you split it with anyone else?” My gaze flickered, seemingly by accident, toward the VP of HR. The VP of HR, who had been clinking glasses with Dave moments before, was now sitting rigid, staring straight ahead. “Vivian Nash! That’s enough!” A booming voice came from the main table. It was Victor Shaw, the VP of Operations. He was Owen’s closest ally and Sienna’s unofficial mentor. They were a company ‘Iron Triangle’ that had been running roughshod for years. “This is the company’s biggest night! Are you trying to start a witch hunt? Do you have any sense of the bigger picture?” He pointed his finger at me. “Even if Owen and Sienna have made minor mistakes, it was for the sake of the business! You can’t sanitize every corner! If you do this, who will risk their necks for the company in the future?” “Risk their necks?” I smiled at Victor Shaw. “You, Fatty Shaw, don’t get to talk about risk and loyalty.” “If Owen is greedy, you are rotten. Rotten to the core.” I turned my back on him and faced the dark projector screen. The image was in my mind. “Last year, during our holiday sale, we processed a million orders. You, as VP of Operations, single-handedly switched our shipping carrier to a logistics firm owned by your family back home.” “The result? Backlog, lost packages, massive delays. Our customer complaint rate soared by three hundred percent.” “The company spent twenty million dollars on goodwill refunds to quell the customer outrage.” “And that family logistics company? It was conveniently dissolved afterward. And you, Victor, upgraded your sedan to a Range Rover. Am I wrong?” “You’re spewing lies! That was an act of God!” “An act of God?” I scoffed. “Was there a flood at your family’s farm, or did your brains flood out? That logistics company had three thousand dollars in registered capital and no proper warehouse. Were you blind, or was your heart black when you signed that contract?” “Where is the proof? I’ll sue you for defamation!” Victor was still defiant. “The proof is with your wife.” I tossed the quiet bomb into the room. “What?” Victor looked utterly bewildered. “You bought the new car, and you took a mistress. Did you think your wife was ignorant? Last month, she came to me in Audit. I gave her a copy of that logistics contract.” “Based on the timing, the legal separation papers should have reached your doorstep right about now.” Victor Shaw’s knees buckled. He collapsed back into his chair, the heavy wooden frame protesting loudly. The whole room was silent again. In less than ten minutes, I had taken down two Vice Presidents, one Department Manager, and a sales star. It was a performance that would be legendary in corporate circles. My gaze finally settled on the Chairman, Mr. Harrington. The silent captain, who finally set down his glass. Harrington, in his early fifties, with silver hair, had eyes as sharp as an eagle. He didn’t look angry. In fact, there was a trace of grim amusement. “Vivian,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “How much more do you have?” He asked the direct question. I gave the direct answer. “If you mean what’s on the USB drive, about two gigabytes. If you mean what’s in my head, I could go for three days.” Harrington nodded, tapping his finger lightly on the table. “Since everyone is here, let’s get everything on the table at once.” With that statement, Owen and Sienna’s final shred of hope evaporated. They had been counting on Harrington to prioritize the company’s reputation, stop the public spectacle, and handle it quietly. But Harrington was a ruthless pragmatist. This wasn’t just a purge; it was a scorched-earth cleansing. “All right.” I took a deep breath. “Since the Chairman has asked, we’ll continue.” I shifted my attention to Mr. Ken Lee, the Director of R&D. Lee was generally considered a harmless, amiable man, smiling at everyone, well-liked. But now, he refused to meet my eyes. “Mr. Lee, don’t look down; your crown might fall off.” I offered a dry jest. “Your R&D department burned through forty million dollars this year, supposedly developing a proprietary AI intelligent algorithm.” “But I heard that the core code was simply an open-source project you found on GitHub and slightly modified?” “Forty million, Mr. Lee. You could have hired a world-class team for two million. Did you pocket the remaining thirty-eight million to trade Bitcoin?” Lee’s sweat was streaming down his temples. “Ms. Nash, you don’t understand technology. That was secondary development…” “Secondary development—meaning you swapped their logo for ours?” I cut him off without mercy. “And that Bitcoin account? You used the company’s servers to mine for it, didn’t you? Our electric bill went up by six figures a month. Did you think I was blind?” Lee sagged completely. Wherever my gaze landed, silence followed. But the true heavy hitters were the ones behind Owen and Sienna. Their actions weren’t just about embezzlement; they were about asset stripping and preparation for a major secession. “Owen.” I looked back at my still-reeling husband. “Did you think that just paying back the five million would make this all go away?” Owen’s head snapped up, his eyes filled with sheer terror. “You… what are you talking about?” “Last Friday, you and Sienna met with Mr. Richard Zhang of our competitor, Vertex Solutions. You weren’t discussing a partnership. You were selling our company’s core client list to them for twenty million dollars. Correct?” Even Mr. Harrington’s expression hardened at that. Embezzlement is an internal conflict; selling trade secrets is treason. That was the line. “You’re spewing lies!” Owen jumped up, genuinely desperate now. This wasn’t just about losing his job; it was about prison time and being blacklisted forever. “I have proof!” He pointed at me, his finger shaking. “Vivian, this is revenge! You’re doing this because I cheated on you! You want to ruin me because of your wounded pride!” He was attempting to drag the narrative into private melodrama, hoping to undermine my credibility. “Don’t believe her, anyone! She’s a crazy woman! She’s always been paranoid, installing GPS trackers on my car!” Sienna piped up, desperate to help. “She is! Ms. Nash, I know you don’t like me, but you can’t play with the company’s interests! Vertex is our biggest rival! We would never do something like that!” The man and woman, working together in desperate harmony, had a chilling effect. Whispers started circulating in the ballroom. “She does sound unhinged.” “Selling the client list is a federal crime. Price isn’t that stupid, is he?” “Is Vivian having a breakdown?” The tide of opinion began to waver. This is the fragility of human nature: people are often more willing to believe the simple, dramatic explanation—a scorned wife’s revenge—than a complex, high-level conspiracy. Owen seized on the momentum, his eyes turning malicious. He lunged for the stage. This time, he was fast, and he grabbed a half-empty red wine bottle from a nearby table. “Shut up, you bitch!” He was snarling, his stance suggesting he truly intended to smash the bottle across my head. 4 The red wine bottle loomed large in front of me. A large hand shot out from the side, gripping Owen’s wrist like a steel vice. It was Mr. Harrington’s driver and security detail, a silent, imposing man who was always nearby. “Mr. Price, you’ve had too much.” The guard’s voice was flat, but the force in his grip made Owen’s face twist in pain. The bottle clanged onto the carpet, rolling a few times before stopping near Harrington’s feet. Harrington didn’t even glance at the bottle. His eyes were fixed on me. “Vivian, continue.” Owen, still restrained by the guard, struggled and cursed, sounding like a common thug. “Crazy bitch! You have no evidence! You’re just jealous of me and Sienna! You just want to destroy us!” “Evidence?” I reached under the lectern and pulled out a USB drive. “Everyone is wondering what’s actually on this drive.” I plugged it into the laptop on the stage. “They thought by deleting my presentation and replacing it with code errors, the job was done.” “Unfortunately, those of us who manage the money have a habit: we back things up. And we hide the most important files in the most inconspicuous places.” I opened a hidden folder and typed in a complex, lengthy password. The scrambled code on the big screen vanished. It was replaced by a grainy surveillance video feed. The camera was shaky, the angle oddly low, as if it were hidden inside a decorative potted plant. The location: a corporate meeting room. The time: 3:00 PM last Friday. Three people were visible: Owen, Sienna Cole, and a man in his fifties. It was Richard Zhang, the CEO of Vertex Solutions. Sienna took a USB drive from her purse and handed it to Zhang. Zhang took it, plugged it into his laptop, and the screen’s reflection illuminated his satisfied face. He then pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. Almost immediately, Owen’s phone vibrated. He looked down, and a wave of uncontrollable elation spread from his lips to his eyes. He even showed his screen to Sienna, who laughed and leaned her body against his. The room fell into a suffocating silence. The people who had been defending Owen seconds earlier instantly shut their mouths. The video was incontrovertible proof. “Owen,” I spoke, my voice razor-sharp in the stillness of the banquet hall. “How does it feel to receive a twenty-million-dollar down payment?” Owen’s strength gave out; he would have collapsed if the security guard hadn’t been holding him. He stared at the screen, then at me, his expression a mix of raw terror and absolute despair. “That… that’s fabricated! Vivian! You have a sick mind! You forged a video to frame me!” Sienna shrieked. “Yes! It’s a fake! Mr. Harrington, you have to believe us! We have shed blood and built this company for you!” She began to cry, leaning on theatrics. “Mr. Harrington, she is just jealous that Owen and I are close! She wants to destroy me, destroy Owen, and destroy the company!” “Is that so?” I manipulated the laptop and opened another file. It was an audio recording. “Let’s all listen to this, then.” “Owen, will the old woman figure it out? I’m worried.” That was Sienna’s voice. “Don’t worry about it. She’s just Internal Audit; she won’t find her way to Vertex Solutions. Once we get the full payment, we quit, start a new company overseas, take all our best clients, and the old man will be too late to cry about it!” That was Owen’s voice. “Oh, Owen, you’re so smart! That old woman is pathetic; she actually thinks you’re out there fighting for your family!” “Family? I’m sick of her. She walks around with that perpetually serious face, like a walking corpse. She has none of your spark. When this is done, I’m filing for divorce. Then you’ll be Mrs. Price, officially.” “Really, Owen? I love you!” The clip ended with a few seconds of intimate, unseemly noises. I hit pause. Sienna’s hysterical sobs cut off. She was ash-faced, slumped in her chair. Owen ceased struggling, his eyes vacant. The only sound in the banquet hall was the rapid, shallow breathing of hundreds of people. The audio not only confirmed the commercial betrayal but brutally stripped bare their ugly private life, exposing it to everyone. Victor Shaw and the few other executives close to Owen were pale as ghosts. They realized this was no longer just about Owen and Sienna. It was a vast, corporate earthquake. Harrington’s face was dark. He looked at the wreckage that was Owen, then at me, his gaze complex. “Vivian, where did that recording come from?” “Sienna’s necklace,” I answered cleanly. “The Cartier pendant Owen bought her. She proudly showed it off to me last month. I complimented it, touched it—and secured a micro-recorder to the back of the clasp.” A collective intake of breath swept through the hall. A woman who could endure her husband’s infidelity, subtly attach a wire to his mistress, and meticulously orchestrate a public execution of this scale—she was a new kind of terror. Owen finally reacted. He lifted his head abruptly, and the eyes that once made my heart race were now filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Vivian!” he shrieked. “Do you think you’ve won? Do you think you’re clean?” He suddenly laughed, a manic, broken sound. “She’s fooling all of you! She is the most malicious person here!” “She’s not the victim at all! She is the mastermind behind the whole damn thing!” Owen broke free of the guard, pointing his finger right at me. “Mr. Harrington! Do you know why she has all this proof? Because she was planning this from the start!” “That five-million-dollar hole? I didn’t take it! She did! She created those dummy accounts! She wired the money to an offshore account and tried to pin the whole thing on me! She wants to send me to prison so she can take all our marital assets!” “And the client list? That was her, too! She was the one who contacted Richard Zhang at Vertex! She made Sienna and me the fall guys! That USB drive? She gave it to me!” “She hates me, and she hates the company! She wants us all to go down together!” The room erupted again. “What? She did it herself?” “This is an insane twist.” “If that’s true, she’s utterly terrifying.” My stomach dropped. I had anticipated Owen would lash out, but I hadn’t expected him to construct such a grotesque, intricate lie to turn the tables. Harrington narrowed his eyes, refocusing entirely on me. “Vivian, how do you explain what he just said?” My palms began to sweat. All my evidence pointed to Owen and Sienna; I had no clean proof of my own innocence. I hadn’t prepared for a counter-accusation when the evidence against them was so overwhelming. Owen, seeing Harrington’s reaction and the wavering crowd, became more frantic. “Explain? How can she explain? Mr. Harrington, check her accounts! Check her parents’ accounts! The money is still out there! She thought she was flawless, but she missed one thing!” He raised his voice, emphasizing every word. “I have the phone recording of her discussion with Richard Zhang of Vertex Solutions!”

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My husband’s first love and I were kidnapped at the same time. He brought the $5 million ransom and saved her without a second thought. Even our son, whom I carried for ten months, chimed in: “I want to save Auntie Claire! Dad, she’ll be scared if we leave her here!” The System declared my mission a failure: “Once your physical body dies, you will be sent back to your original world.” So I sought death, desperate to go home. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn’t want to live anymore, they hugged me and cried: “I was wrong, please don’t leave us, okay?” 1 After twelve years of trying to win Arthur Gu’s heart, he still chose Claire Shen over me without hesitation. Arthur quickly untied the ropes binding Claire, his eyes full of distress. Beside him, our son, Harry, mimicked his father, rubbing Claire’s red wrists and blowing on them gently. “Auntie Claire, I’ll blow on it so it doesn’t hurt.” The three of them looked like a harmonious family, completely forgetting that I was still in the hands of the kidnappers. Even the kidnapper boss couldn’t help but mock me. “Your husband is lost in dreamland. Guess he’s not coming back for you. Should I just off you now?” Watching the three of them leave, protecting Claire, the System officially declared my mission a failure. The punishment electrocuted me, and I fainted instantly. In my daze, I felt the kidnapper boss scrambling to catch my falling body. “I just said a few harsh words! Did she scare herself to death? Crap, gotta get her to the hospital. Can’t have a dead body on my hands.” 2 Waking up in the hospital, I confirmed with the System in my head: As long as this body dies completely, I can go home, right? After getting a positive answer, I dragged myself to the window. This room was on a high floor, at least fifty feet up. Jumping would be certain death. I opened the window and leaped. The massive sensation of weightlessness hit me. I instinctively reached out, the wind screaming in my ears. But I wasn’t afraid. I even looked forward to death. Just a little more, and I’d be home. Back to the world where people truly loved me. I closed my eyes, waiting calmly. But the falling stopped. Someone grabbed my arm hard. The sudden stop tore my muscles, pain spreading from my arm to my chest. I opened my eyes. My arm felt broken. The person holding me was Sean Song, Arthur’s half-brother. I looked up at the sweating teenager and said calmly. “Let go.” Sean gritted his teeth, gripping tighter, pulling me up with all his might. He roared, “Just because my brother didn’t choose you? Jumping over this? Is your brain filled with shit?” I reached out, prying his fingers off one by one. “Sean, my death is exactly what you want. So, let go.” 3 Sean hated me. Or rather, everyone close to Arthur didn’t accept me. After Claire eloped for love, Arthur married me under family pressure. They were convinced I was an opportunist who took advantage of the situation. They openly isolated, ostracized, and ignored me. Sean was the worst. Using his status as the younger brother, he swaggered into the Gu mansion and destroyed all the baby’s breath flowers I planted in the backyard. Knowing I was allergic to cat hair, he encouraged Harry to adopt a stray kitten. When I refused, he told Harry to cry. The noise filled the living room. Sean watched the fire from the sidelines, then played the good guy. “It’s just a kitten. Let the kid keep it if he likes it.” Harry cried even harder, rolling on the floor, mumbling. “Mommy is bad, I want the kitty.” I kicked Sean and the cat out and patiently explained to Harry that I was allergic to cats but we could get a puppy. Influenced by Sean, Harry only wanted the cat. He wouldn’t listen, pounding on me, demanding his kitten back. A rift formed between Harry and me. Sean seized the opportunity to badmouth me to Harry, turning my son against me at such a young age. He was like a demon from hell, turning my life upside down. 4 I didn’t die. Sean made too much noise, attracting the medical staff. Together, they pulled me up. Sean glared at me, closed the window, and fell silent for once. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His palms were red and purple from the strain. “Jane Xu, I don’t hate you as much as you think.” He lowered his head, bangs covering his eyes. I actually heard a trace of grievance in his voice. Just as I was about to probe further. Sean crossed his arms, looked up, and reverted to his usual nonchalant self. He said heartlessly. “This is just another one of your tricks, right? Let me tell you, my brother doesn’t fall for playing hard to get. Doing this will only annoy him more…” Sean was rambling in his own world while the nurses checked the equipment. Taking advantage of the gap, I walked to the window again and opened it swiftly. Before I could step out, Sean pulled me back. Two attempts. Sean finally realized I wasn’t doing it for attention. I really wanted to die. He dragged me away from the window. Once sure I was under control, he started trying to talk sense into me, his attitude softening. “Don’t do this. My brother isn’t the only man in the world. Why cling to him?” He coughed lightly, cheeks flushing. “I admit, my brother is a terrible husband. But you can divorce him. Dying for him isn’t worth it. Maybe someone secretly has a crush on you, and you just haven’t noticed.” 5 Sean took me back to the old mansion. On the way, he told me. Arthur found out I planned the kidnapping myself and was comforting the traumatized Claire. “My brother is furious. Just apologize to Claire properly later, and it’ll be over.” “Calm him down first, then the divorce will be easier.” I ignored him, turning my head to the window. The scenery blurred past, too fast to catch even a shadow. Thinking back to the kidnapper rushing me to the hospital, I guessed this kidnapping was another frame-up by Claire. Blame me, and she can play the innocent flower in front of Arthur. Not the first time, and won’t be the last. We were like two poles of a magnet, repelling and hurting each other. And Arthur was the iron filing spinning just for Claire. No matter how clumsy her tricks, in his eyes, they were just proof of her vulnerability and need for security. He stood by her side without hesitation. The scales never tipped in my favor. My arguments, despair, and hysteria only earned his cold rebuke: “Stop making a scene. Look at yourself.” 6 I suddenly remembered when I first started “conquering” Arthur. Back then, Claire had run off with the male lead, leaving Arthur, the deep-feeling second male lead, drinking his sorrows away daily. The System told me this drunkard was my target. Only when his affection reached 100% could I go home. I didn’t understand why going home depended on a man’s love. But to go home, I approached Arthur cautiously. He got drunk at bars; I accompanied him. He threw up everywhere; I apologized and cleaned up the mess. He missed Claire’s desserts; I took baking classes to learn his taste. Those hard-made pastries, Arthur threw in the trash without looking. He warned me not to imitate Claire, that I wasn’t even fit to carry her shoes. Later, I stopped baking and learned to cook. Arthur had a bad stomach. When working late, he often skipped dinner. I prepared balanced meals daily and delivered them to his office personally. Maybe my cooking wasn’t bad, because Arthur slowly accepted my presence. Those days were the most harmonious times between us. His affection reached 98%. Just when I thought I could go home soon, a drunken night led to pregnancy. Arthur married me under family pressure. His affection plummeted. From start to finish, he thought I got pregnant on purpose. That it was a trap I set for him. Hilarious. I wasn’t the one who didn’t use protection. He only had himself to blame. He and Claire were the same type of people, liking to pin their faults and sins on others. Does that lessen their guilt? Ha, ridiculous. I can’t understand it. 7 I followed Sean in. Pushing open the Gu family door, the first thing I saw was Claire lying on the sofa, looking cozy. Arthur and Harry were serving her. The big one feeding her fruit piece by piece. The small one sitting by her feet, grinning while massaging her legs. If they had tails, they’d be wagging to the sky. Seeing me, Arthur immediately switched to a stern face. Frowning, he picked up a document from the coffee table and threw it at my face. He stood up, imposing. “Jane! I don’t care if you throw tantrums, but you should never have hurt Claire!” “Is staging a kidnapping just to get my attention fun? If anything happened to Claire, you’d be rotting in jail!” I bent down and picked up the papers scattered at my feet. Reading them, I couldn’t help but sneer. It was just a transcript of the kidnapper’s one-sided confession. If Arthur trusted me even a little bit, he would have checked the bank account that transferred money to the kidnapper and known I was framed. People only see what they want to see. Seeing my expression, Claire got up from the sofa. Seeming afraid I’d say something, she grabbed Arthur’s shirt urgently. “Arthur, I’m fine, don’t be so tense. Sister Jane is a girl, prison would be…” Before she could finish, I slapped her. I used all my strength. The sound echoed through the living room. Claire looked at me dumbfounded, stunned by the slap. Not just her, everyone froze. Arthur reacted first. He went feral, choking me with both hands, his eyes filled with ruthless malice. Survival instinct made me struggle. I looked up at him contemptuously. “You want to jail me with this evidence? You’re an idiot, but the police aren’t.” This provoked Arthur greatly. He increased his grip, cutting off my air. Death approached slowly, but I couldn’t help smiling. 8 At the critical moment, Sean punched Arthur back to reality. Arthur instinctively let go. Lack of oxygen made my legs weak. I collapsed instantly. Gasping for air, I stared at the culprit who ruined my plans twice: Sean. He punched Arthur again, not satisfied. “She was dying! You almost strangled her!” Dazed, Arthur shook his wrist but didn’t fight back. He pushed Sean away, looking at me with a complicated expression, then turned away awkwardly. “So what if she died? She provoked Claire first.” “Yeah, she hit Auntie Claire. She’s a bad mom. I hate bad mom.” Harry hugged Claire’s arm, chiming in angrily. Too lazy to face the ugly faces of the Gu family, I sneaked back to my room while Sean clashed with Arthur. Sean was still arguing, his voice drifting upstairs. “Bro! Jane wanted to die! Didn’t you see her smile when you were choking her? I suspect she provoked you on purpose.” “Wanted to die? She’s desperate to be with me. How could she want to die?” The door closed, cutting off the noise. World peace. I took a fruit knife from the drawer and strode to the bathroom. The sharp blade drew a line of blood on my wrist. Blood dripped down. Facing death wasn’t as painful or terrifying as I imagined.

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The genius singer-songwriter, Noah, released a new album. The single “She Can Hear” instantly dominated the charts, sweeping every major award. He wrote this song back in high school. Back when he was my desk mate. When he sang the final line, he reached out and pulled out my hearing aid. I heard nothing. Years later, I finally learned what the last line was— “I like you.” 1 Noah’s concert just ended, and he’s already trending on Twitter with over a dozen hashtags. His popularity is insane. Especially after closing the show with “She Can Hear”, the song that swept this year’s Grammys and awakened everyone’s nostalgia for first love. I opened Noah’s fan group chat and lurked quietly. The messages were flying by—99+ in seconds. Many fans who just left the concert were spamming keysmashes and crying emojis. The atmosphere must have been electric. Suddenly, someone tagged me: “@Admin, you didn’t go to Noah’s concert?” I’ve been a fan since his debut four years ago. I founded this group. Everyone knows how much I love him. But I couldn’t snag a ticket. The scalper I negotiated with bailed last minute. Maybe it was fate. The chat quickly moved on. “Guys, I think we have a ‘Sister-in-Law’. She was front row, VIP. Gorgeous, wearing a mask. Staff escorted her backstage afterwards.” My eyelids twitched. I exited the chat and checked Twitter. Trending #1: #NoahFirstLove. It was a video. The masked beauty in the front row stood out. Her eyes were striking. She had saved the empty seat next to her for her bag. She looked up at the star on stage, eyes sparkling. On stage, Noah played the piano, radiating light. He kept glancing in her direction. The dazzling lights created a dreamlike vibe, like lovers connecting across a crowd. An insider leaked that the song was written for her. She was the genius singer’s unforgettable first love. “They look so good together!” “Literal romance novel tropes.” “Am I the only one sad about the empty seat used for a bag? That’s a prime spot!” I turned off my phone. 2 I don’t follow celebrity gossip, except for one person. Noah. It’s hard to explain. As he shines brighter, the distance between us grows. I decided to transfer ownership of the fan group and permissions in the next few days. I need to move on. While journaling that night, I listened to “She Can Hear” again. I heard this melody in high school. Noah chose to sit next to me because I was the quietest girl in class. I wouldn’t annoy him or crush on him like the others. Actually, I was just quiet. People called me “Little Deaf Girl,” “Little Mute.” But not Noah. I liked him a little, but I hid it well. He didn’t know. I remember everything about him clearly. Late June of junior year, Noah pulled me up from the ground, wiped the blood from my forehead, and sang this song to me. Same melody, same lyrics. The scent of summer radiated from him, our shadows merging on the ground. When he reached the last line, he suddenly pulled out my hearing aid. My world went silent. I only remember his eyes. He leaned in and sang the last line into my ear. “I like you.” So that was it. 3 Netizens quickly identified the masked beauty from the concert. It was Linda, a singer who debuted on a talent show. Her brand was “Rich Girl Chasing Dreams for Love.” In interviews, she was open about it: “I joined the industry for one person. He’s a musical genius.” Now the answer was clear. It was for Noah. Her Instagram comments were flooded with “Hello, Sister-in-Law.” I didn’t feel much jealousy, just a strange emptiness. So, Noah likes girls like that. Before transferring the fan group, I met up with a fellow fan, “Bunny,” at a coffee shop. “She Can Hear” was playing in the background. The girl at the next table was gushing, “Did you see Linda and Noah’s interview? I’m dying, they’re so cute.” Bunny arrived late. She paused when she saw me. I smiled, eyes crinkling. “What, can’t deaf people like music?” She waved her hands frantically, relaxing the mood. Before handing everything over, Bunny joked, “How long have you been stanning Noah?” “Seven years.” She laughed. “Noah only debuted four years ago.” I looked at my reflection in the glass door and smiled. Seventeen to twenty-four. Seven years. I didn’t miscount. I’ve liked Noah for seven years. “No regrets?” Bunny asked one last time. “No regrets.” 4 I logged into Discord. Everyone uses other apps now, but back in high school, this was it. My friend list was sparse. Under “Favorites,” there was only one name: Noah. His avatar was permanently grey. I added him back when we were desk mates under the guise of homework. But his account was probably hacked or abandoned long ago. It would never light up green again. Even knowing that, I rarely dared to disturb him. I just opened the chat and stared when I missed him. This time, I wanted to say a proper goodbye. I typed and deleted paragraphs, finally sending just three words: “Great song.” Even just those words made my palms sweat. My heart raced, even knowing he wouldn’t see it. Suddenly, the avatar flickered. From grey to green. Online. Noah is typing… He sent two messages: “Thanks.” “Did you hear it?” I froze. I never expected him to see it, let alone reply. When the screen dimmed, I snapped out of it and typed back: “I heard it. Your song is everywhere. Congratulations.” My desk mate had become a legend. I was genuinely happy for his bright future. The “is typing” indicator stayed on for a long time. I waited. Finally, two words came through. “Goodnight.” I guess I’m really bad at chatting. But I felt lucky. At the end of a seven-year crush, I got a “goodnight.” 5 I packed away all my Noah posters and albums. My mom helped. “It’s time to let go.” I hummed in agreement. My mom was actually a fan too, but she met Noah back in high school. She knew I wasn’t chasing a star; I just liked Noah, the person. My mom paused, then said meaningfully, “That girl looks pretty.” She meant Linda. Mom was watching gossip videos about them this morning, checking if I was crying. Netizens dug up Linda’s high school photos. Same high school as us, one year below Noah. She fit the “first love” profile perfectly. Internet sleuths were declaring the ship sailed. I stayed silent, looking at the photo. It was from the sophomore talent show. Linda was the host, announcing the act. Behind her, at the piano, was Noah. Radiant. Even I had to admit, they looked perfect together. 6 The scandal between Noah and Linda was a huge win for Green Valley High. As their alma mater, the school’s upcoming centennial celebration got massive exposure because of Noah. Alumni invitations had been sent out long ago. I was going too. I had no nostalgia for Green Valley High. The only thing worth looking back at was Noah. But I had to go because Noah would be there. I needed to see him one last time to return what I owed him. My mom took out a tin box from her nightstand and carefully handed me a savings book. We didn’t earn much, so saving this amount was hard. It was roughly the cost of the hearing aid Noah gave me back then. Returning it at the reunion wouldn’t take up much of his time. Holding the book, I felt dazed. I was going to see Noah… 7 I didn’t expect getting into the reunion to be so hard. Media outlets were camped outside. Security was tight, checking every alum to prevent paparazzi and crazy fans from sneaking in. I was stuck because I hadn’t received my invitation. I pulled out my student ID, diplomas, everything. I was about to call my retired homeroom teacher when the security guard glanced at my hearing aid with disdain. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he shoved me aside to welcome someone else. I stumbled. Cameras started flashing like crazy. It looked like a red carpet event. I steadied myself and turned around. It was a star. Linda, surrounded by bodyguards, big sunglasses hiding her face. Her face had been trending for two days. The guard recognized her instantly and let her through without asking for an invite. I lowered my eyes and waited for them to pass. But Linda stopped as she passed me. I looked up blankly. Her gaze lingered on my ear, then my face. She paused, then took off her sunglasses, revealing her sharp, beautiful eyes. Linda chuckled. “This is Green Valley High, not a school for the deaf and mute. Did you get lost?” My eyes widened in shock. My face burned. The guard laughed. “Ms. Linda, don’t worry. Our security is top-notch. We won’t let riff-raff in.” I’ve dealt with prejudice before. But this time, it was humiliating. I couldn’t even argue. I just looked down. Then, behind Linda, a sleek black car stopped. The tinted window rolled down slowly, revealing a cold, noble face. I never imagined reuniting with Noah like this. Not when I was so pathetic. I tried to hide my face. Too late. “Winnie.” Noah called my name softly. That was his first sentence. The paparazzi spotted him. Flashes went off like a celebration. “Long time no see. Little Desk Mate.” He enunciated clearly. That was his second sentence. 8 Little Desk Mate. Thinking back to high school, I rarely remember the insults like “Deaf Girl” or “Mute.” I remember Noah waking up from a nap, a red mark on his face, asking raspy-voiced: “Little Desk Mate, what time is it?” Noah was popular. He spoke little, but he wasn’t antisocial. He’d lean back, twirl a pen, smile slightly, and people would flock to him. I was different. Quiet, isolated. My hearing aid back then was cheap and didn’t fit my hearing loss profile. I often zoned out in my silent world. People lost patience trying to talk to me. Only Noah, maybe bored from sitting next to me, would repeat himself patiently. “Little Desk Mate, homework due.” “Little Desk Mate, help me out.” “Little Desk Mate, can you hear me?” “Little Desk Mate.”

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Elias always said I had become “tamed” since our last explosive fight. I stopped calling him a dozen times a day to track his whereabouts and no longer begged him to come home early when he traveled. Even when I found a strange lipstick smudge in his jacket pocket, I never asked a single question. This morning, before he left for the office, he was clingier than usual, insisting I personally fix his tie. Before he walked out, he sent me a bank transfer with a note: “Sweetheart, I know you have that hospital appointment today. Keep this. Spend the rest on whatever you want.” I didn’t text back. I just hit ‘Accept.’ After all, the baby was his. He should certainly pay for the procedure. 1 Seeing my silence, Elias suddenly became anxious. That feeling of being unable to grasp me made him lose control. He grabbed my chin and brought his mouth down in a punishing, aggressive kiss—hard and fast. When he finally pulled away, he wasn’t satisfied, and he bit down on my lip hard enough for me to taste the metallic tang of blood before he released me. He buried his face in my neck, his arms locked tight around my waist, like a child afraid of losing warmth. A faint, cloying scent of cheap gardenia wafted over me. I frowned, the first expression I’d shown all morning. “Skye has been shadowing you for years now. How has she still not learned? That cheap perfume is beneath you, Elias.” Elias’s body stiffened. He let go of me. “She came from nothing, Finn. She doesn’t care about designer labels or fancy things.” I nodded, pretending to be reflective. “Or maybe she just doesn’t think they’re as valuable as the title of Mrs. Elias Beckett.” His expression hardened. He pressed his fingers against his temples, looking utterly exhausted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Skye and I are over. We’re just… family now. A brother-sister dynamic. Don’t overthink this, Seraphina.” Overthink? Two people who had slept together calling themselves “siblings.” Didn’t they feel ridiculous? I turned my head, pushed him away, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. 2 The cold, sterile instruments scraped inside my body, a pain worse than I remembered. Yet, compared to the induced stillbirth three years ago, this was manageable. At least this time, I wasn’t contemplating a leap off the hospital roof. “Where is your man? Why is he letting you go through this alone?” The woman in the bed next to me saw me struggling to sit up and quickly reached for the nurse call button. “Don’t move, sweetie. Your color is terrible.” I glanced at the glass window, catching my reflection. My hair was damp, cold sweat streamed down my face. I looked like a ghost crawled out of a storm drain. “You need proper care after a procedure like this. Someone should be looking after you.” The woman continued to fuss. “You young people are so reckless. It’s so hard to conceive. You can’t just toss a baby aside.” The head nurse, who knew my history, gave the woman a sharp look, silencing her. Everyone here knew I’d nearly died after the stillbirth at seven months. I had been standing in the maternity ward three years ago, happily trying out names for our son, when I saw my husband escorting Skye Collins out of the doctor’s office. Skye, a charity case I’d put through college, was clutching a sonogram. What happened next is a blur. All I remember is screaming, clawing, and thrashing—a complete, unhinged lunatic. And Elias, my husband, was always, only, shielding the other woman. Until a pair of hands shoved me hard onto the cold floor. My vision was instantly washed in a blinding, bloody red. Amidst the nurses’ shocked shouts, I was rushed to surgery. One moment, the life inside me was kicking; the next, it was being scraped away, ripped apart, dissolving into a pool of fluid and flesh. My world had collapsed overnight. I had lost my son, my own flesh and blood, and I saw the true face of my husband. When I climbed onto the hospital’s rooftop ledge, Elias dragged Skye up to apologize. He smashed her head against the concrete, the sound sickeningly dull, until her forehead bled. Skye cried, confessing it had been a bluff—a fake sonogram—that she just wanted his attention. Elias followed suit, weeping, claiming it was a momentary lapse, a terrible mistake. A bluff? A mistake? What did that make my son’s life? They knelt there, one apologizing repeatedly, the other begging for forgiveness. The noise was maddening. Watching their mouths open and close, I felt only disgust. A thought rose from the depths of my gut: Why them? Why was it my child, and not them, who paid the price? As Elias dragged me down, I bit his arm with a desperate, savage fury, my eyes blazing with hate. Blood dripped down my chin. He was clearly in pain, cold sweat pouring down his face, but he didn’t dare pull away. He held me to him like he was terrified I would simply vanish into thin air. It was from that day on that I became “tame.” Compliant. Obedient. 3 The clock ticked past midnight. I used to dread these long, hollow nights. I’d always leave the lights on, stubbornly waiting for Elias to come home. If he didn’t answer my calls, I’d spiral, convinced something terrible had happened. Once, during a brutal storm, the news reported a major multi-car pile-up on his usual route. After twenty unanswered calls, I snatched my keys and rushed into the torrential rain. I drove to every lounge, every bar, every high-end club he frequented. I finally found his car, perfectly intact, parked outside a discreet, members-only establishment. When I burst into the private room, my hair was still dripping water onto the expensive carpet. Elias stripped off his blazer and wrapped it around me, a look of profound embarrassment flashing across his face. “What are you doing running out in your nightgown?” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance. “Didn’t you even think to grab an umbrella?” His friends erupted in laughter. “Ooh, look, the little wifey came to check his leash!” “Is that your wife, Beckett? Her outfit is certainly… unique.” “Elias, my man, that’s rough. Your phone has been blowing up all night.” The mocking laughter made Elias’s face turn a darker shade of red. He shoved the car key into my hand. “Get home. You’re making a scene.” Making a scene. The words pierced my heart. I instinctively reached out to take his hand, but he violently flicked mine away. I stared at my empty fingertips, lost. The joy I’d felt at finding him safe was instantly drowned by that cold, relentless rain.

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I was on my way home from the grocery store when a flyer was shoved into my hand—a new Ramen and Noodle Bar, half-price for opening night. I snapped a picture and sent it to Dustin: Ramen tonight? I didn’t hear back for a long time. I just went to my evening shift as usual. It wasn’t until I was clocking out that his text finally came through: Next time, babe. Paycheck hasn’t dropped this month. Give me a couple of days. I almost typed back that I’d just gotten paid and had a bonus this month, so I could cover it. But then I saw him. He was steering Piper Wells into a high-end jewelry boutique two blocks from my office. A wave of flatness washed over me. It felt pointless. I deleted my half-typed reply and went to the noodle bar alone. I was halfway through a massive bowl of spicy pork broth when my phone buzzed again. You mad? It’s not that I didn’t want to take you, Avery. I said next time. Oh, and heads up, I have to pull an all-nighter for the firm tonight, so I won’t be home. We’ll celebrate your birthday properly another time. The soup tasted amazing. I was too busy enjoying it to reply. But he probably didn’t realize it yet: there wouldn’t be a “next time” for us. 1 Dustin finally returned the following night. He fumbled in the dark, hitting the corner of the coffee table with a thud and sending the glass kettle crashing to the floor with a loud shatter. “Damn it!” he muttered. I hadn’t been fully asleep, but the chaos woke me up completely. I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to move. The bedroom door was practically kicked open. Dustin flipped the light on, the sudden glare like a physical blow. He sounded instantly irritable. “Avery, why didn’t you leave a light on?” Oh. I’d forgotten. It was a habit of mine, a routine I’d maintained for three years, no matter how late he came home. I rubbed my eyes, shielding them from the harsh light. “My bad. I’ll make sure to next time.” Then I rolled over, ready to go back to sleep. Dustin’s voice tightened. “Hold up. Don’t sleep. I just sliced my foot open on the glass. Where are the bandages?” I paused, counting to three. I just wanted the noise to stop. I got out of bed, found the first-aid kit, and handed it to him. He snatched it, still complaining. “Seriously, turning off every single light. Who does that? And now I have to replace that kettle.” I didn’t respond. Dustin, with his almost unnaturally sharp senses, grabbed my hand. “You went for Ramen last night?” I mumbled an affirmative. “Where did you get the money?” he asked. He could easily figure it out—it was the end of the month, and our joint “living expenses” fund was nearly drained. “Oh, your paycheck came in, right?” he remembered, softening his tone immediately. “Fine, fine. Good, you ate. Now, can you go clean up the glass outside, and maybe whip me up a quick bowl of pasta? I barely got dinner.” I managed to keep my expression blank. I was exhausted. “I’m too tired. We can deal with it tomorrow.” His voice hardened instantly. “Absolutely not. The glass is a hazard. What if one of us gets up for the bathroom tonight?” I finally looked him in the eye, genuinely confused. “Do you not have hands?” Dustin froze. He clearly hadn’t expected the attitude. After a long silence, he scoffed. “You can’t still be mad about the ramen thing, are you? I told you we’d go another time, and you already ate, didn’t you? Besides, I’m starving. You ate a full meal; you can’t seriously make me eat canned soup.” My eyelids were heavy. I threw out the first thing that came to mind. “There’s instant ramen in the pantry.” “Wait, you’re home, and you want me to eat instant ramen?” Dustin looked utterly shocked, his pupils huge. He was right. In the past, I would have had a home-cooked meal waiting, or at least a hot, hearty soup simmering. I would never have suggested instant ramen. But when he saw I still wasn’t moving, he seemed to deflate. He tossed a small paper bag onto the bed. “Fine. I bought you something. Look.” I didn’t react. He stepped closer, pulling the item out of the bag, his voice turning soft and cajoling. “Stop being difficult, Avery. I’ve been saving every penny this month to get you something. You’re going to love it.” I reluctantly looked at the item he was holding up: a piece of flimsy, black lace lingerie. His tone grew suggestive. “After I eat, you can try it on…” Suddenly, my stomach clenched, and I felt a brief wave of nausea. Dustin slapped his forehead, a look of mock-annoyance spreading across his face. “Oh, damn, I forgot! You’re on your period, aren’t you? That’s my bad. Okay. Just clean up the glass and get some rest. Early night.” I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me. My mother, Carol, had texted me. Are you absolutely sure about this? I checked the time. 10:30 PM. Not too late. I replied: Yes. I’ve thought it through. I’m going to London. My family was relatively well-off. After college, my mother had repeatedly suggested I go abroad for my Master’s—she said education was priceless, and improving my credentials was always a safe bet. But back then, I’d just started dating Dustin. Head over heels in love, I’d turned down my mother’s offer. I’d almost caused a family feud over it. I never even dared to mention it to Dustin, terrified of burdening him psychologically. I should have listened to them earlier. Maybe then I wouldn’t have wasted so much of myself on this relationship. My mother called instantly, skeptical. “Seriously? You’re giving up that boy?” “I’m breaking up with him.” I hung up and closed my eyes. I was so bone-tired. My mother sent one last text, urging me not to change my mind—she was likely remembering six months ago, when I’d threatened to leave, only to come crawling back after one small, sweet gesture from Dustin. This time, my mind was set. I slept straight through until morning. I did my makeup and got dressed early—I was going to the embassy to process my student visa today. Dustin emerged from the guest room, sneezing twice. “Why did you lock the door last night? I had to sleep in the guest room. There were no blankets, and now I have a cold.” I ignored him, changed in the bathroom, and headed for the door. He stood blocking the exit, rubbing a wad of tissue under his nose. He frowned slightly. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Did you hear me?” “I heard you,” I said flatly. He sounded annoyed. “Then say something. I thought you were deaf.” He tossed the tissue in the trash. “Listen, can you Venmo me three hundred bucks? This cold is pretty bad, I need to go to a clinic.” I sighed, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you have the card?” Early in the relationship, he had suggested we open a joint savings account for our future. Six months ago, he said his “little sister,” Piper Wells, needed emergency cash for her grandmother’s funeral, and he’d kept the card ever since. Dustin’s face soured. “That’s for our house fund, we can’t touch that for little things. And you just got paid, you were going to deposit it anyway. Why are you suddenly nitpicking over three hundred dollars?” I gave him a cold stare. “Give me the card, and I’ll transfer it.” He immediately grew agitated. “No way. You’re impulsive with money. Just go! You’ll be late for work if you keep dragging this out.” Oh, so he still knew I had a job. Unlike every other time, I didn’t reach for my phone to send the money. I simply said, “I don’t have it. Figure it out.” Then, ignoring his darkening expression, I pushed past him and walked out the door. He chased after me, rambling defensively. “Are you serious? Over one dinner? Are you still mad about the ramen?” I was waiting for the elevator. I kept my voice patient. “I’m not mad. And I don’t care about the ramen.” “So, it’s because I didn’t go with you?” He sounded so sure of himself. He tried to step closer to hug me. “Come on, Avery. I’m just busy. Next time, I promise, okay?” I side-stepped his embrace. The elevator doors opened, and I walked straight in. “Don’t bother.” I looked at his hands, suspended awkwardly in the air, and hit the ‘Close’ button. The line at the embassy wasn’t long, and my materials were accepted without issue. Next, I had to go to my company to submit my resignation. As I walked in, I heard the front desk girls gossiping. “Piper, is that the new Love Pendant from Cartier? It’s stunning…” Piper Wells hadn’t noticed me yet. She smiled coyly. “It is. My brother bought it for me. He’s so thoughtful.” “Wow. Jewelry prices are insane right now. He must really spoil you…” He certainly did. Dustin had always spoiled her. I’d tried to complain, but he told me Piper was practically family—the sister of his childhood friend—and it was his duty to look out for her. He’d even pulled strings to get her a job at my company, using my contacts, despite her weak resume. I was about to slip past, but the receptionist spotted me. “Oh, hey, Avery! You have a delivery.” I walked over and took the package, my eyes unconsciously lingering on Piper’s neck. It was beautiful, sparkling gold. “Hi, Avery,” Piper said, offering a token greeting. She looked slightly flustered. “I, uh, I’m going to go make coffee…” As she passed, I caught the scent of her perfume—the latest floral-fruity scent that was everywhere. A familiar pang of hurt hit me. The package was the new shower gel I’d ordered. Dustin had always told me he hated perfume, which was why I put so much effort into finding subtle, clean-scented body washes. Now I knew. He didn’t hate the scent of perfume; he just hated the idea of me wearing it. I collected myself and went into the boss’s office. My manager was disappointed to lose me but excited about my Master’s program abroad. He even offered me a job when I returned. After handing over my work, I finally got home, exhausted. I was surprised to find Dustin waiting with a huge, welcoming smile. He beamed as he came over. “Avery! Rough day at work? I have great news! My paycheck finally came in!” As he spoke, he neatly lined up the shoes I’d kicked off. When I didn’t respond, he stood squarely in front of me. “Avery, no more pouting. I promised to make it up to you, and I’m doing it now. But since you just ate ramen the other day…” He waved his arm dramatically toward the kitchen table. “Ta-da! What do you think?” The table was covered with a lavish spread of expensive seafood. My head began to ache. I sighed. “Dustin, I think I told you a long time ago. I’m allergic to shellfish.” He froze, his smile dissolving instantly. “Oh.” He looked utterly lost. “What do we do? I was so worried about quality that I went to the high-end market and bought the freshest ingredients…” “You eat it,” I said, turning to walk away. He grabbed my arm. “No, wait. I did this for you. If you don’t eat it, I wasted all that money.” He grabbed a slip of paper from the table and held it out. “Look, the prices have spiked recently. This was expensive.” I glanced at the slip. It wasn’t a receipt from a fish market. It was a check for a reservation at a high-end steakhouse. The date was yesterday. The location was near the jewelry district. I stared at Dustin. He followed my gaze. When he realized what he was holding, his face went white with panic. “Ah! Wrong one. That’s—that’s a reimbursement check for a client dinner. My coworker gave it to me. Why did I bring it home?” He was a financial officer; he’d pulled this kind of excuse countless times. I was too tired to call him out. I only felt a deep, weary sense of defeat. “Dustin, we’re breaking up.” The moment the words left my mouth, his phone rang. The caller ID was Piper. I don’t know if Dustin even registered what I said. He shot me one look, then answered the phone. “Oh, okay, okay, I’ll be right there. Don’t panic.” He hung up and started to explain. “Piper’s having an emergency. I have to go. She’s alone in the city, Avery. Don’t let your mind run wild, okay?” I noticed that my heart was utterly still. I felt nothing at all. As he rushed out, he added, “Just eat the seafood, okay? Don’t let it go to waste.” I sighed and didn’t touch the mess. I took a shower and started to pack. That’s when I hit an awkward snag. Our large suitcase had been broken six months ago—in a fight I’d initiated, ironically. I decided to buy a new one online. I found a great deal with a group discount and shared the link on social media, asking if anyone wanted to split the order. Two minutes later, Dustin commented: Why are you buying a suitcase? Then he sent me a direct message: Five hundred bucks for one suitcase? Can’t you find something more reasonable? I ignored the messages. I thought back to when we first started dating. His salary was minimal, but he would spend half of it buying me those fancy sneakers I liked. He would call me from a busy office, just to tell me a quick, ridiculous story before wishing me goodnight. There were so many moments like that. I genuinely was moved back then. But since the affection was gone, there was no point in torturing ourselves. Another voice message came through: Fine. If you really want it, just buy it. The old one is trash anyway. Attached was a $500 Venmo transfer. I was baffled. Wasn’t he supposed to be with Piper? Why was he obsessing over my social media? Annoyed, I blocked his number. Around 2:00 AM, the bedroom light flickered on with a sudden click. “Avery! What the hell is your problem? You wanted ramen, I got you ramen. You wanted a suitcase, I bought you a suitcase. Why did you block me?” The migraine was back. I forced myself to sit up and faced him, my eyes burning. He sighed, his tone softening a fraction. “Is this still about Piper? I told you, she’s like a little sister. I’m her support system. It’s totally innocent. We’re practically family, right?” I pressed my lips together. “Right.” He seemed relieved. “Okay. If it makes you that unhappy, I’ll stop helping her out, okay?” He then lifted the comforter and got into bed. I nearly jumped out of my skin, grabbing my side of the blanket and retreating to the guest room. I heard him curse under his breath and then a loud slam—something had been thrown against the wall. Where did he get all this misplaced anger? Maybe it was only ever reserved for me. The next morning, there was a sticky note on the frame of the guest room door. I’ve done and said everything I can. You need to think about this. I crumpled the note. I noticed the whole apartment was clean—the kitchen floor swept, the mess from the night before gone. There was a plate of toast and eggs waiting on the counter. Did he stay up all night cleaning? I shook my head. It wasn’t my problem anymore. For the next few days, Dustin didn’t come home, and I welcomed the peace. I finished preparing my papers and materials for London. A text from my mother popped up. When is your flight? I’ll have your brother pick you up. I was startled. Rhys was back in the States? I immediately tensed up. My brother was ruthless and notoriously humorless. Sure enough, when I met him, his brow was deeply furrowed, and his expression was severe. “What are you wearing?” He tugged disparagingly at my wrinkled collar. I offered a weak, “Hi, Rhys.” He grunted, motioned for me to get into the car, and climbed into the back seat, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. I always thought he was overly dramatic, but I never dared to say so. His international business was booming, spanning multiple sectors. He had the capital to be arrogant. Once the car started, he spoke to the driver. “Take us to the nearest high-end mall. We need to replace this entire wardrobe.” The car pulled away. Watching the familiar street signs pass by, I realized this three-year-long road was finally coming to an end. Inside the boutique, Rhys had little patience. “Why are you comparing everything? If you like it, buy it.” He was right. They were just clothes. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford them. I quickly picked out three outfits I liked, instead of my usual agonizing over every dollar. When I reached for my wallet, Rhys swiftly slapped his own card down. “And your face. And this rat’s nest you call hair.” “What kind of pathetic life have you been living? Don’t tell anyone we’re related when you walk out of here…” Rhys griped the whole time. He wasn’t entirely wrong; I’d been meticulous about my appearance in college, but my self-care had deteriorated over the last two years. If I showed up looking like this, Mom would be devastated. Rhys finally stopped when he’d overhauled my look from head to toe. He gently ruffled my newly styled hair. “Now you look like yourself again.” I laughed, feeling genuinely lighter. I turned around—and saw Dustin and Piper. Piper was wearing a delicate, custom-made initial pin in her hair. I recognized it instantly. Dustin and I had made it together at a tiny workshop early in our relationship. It was a sentimental piece I’d cherished and kept at the very bottom of my jewelry box, never wearing it for fear of damaging it. And now Dustin had given it to her. Piper smiled and waved at me. “Avery! What a coincidence! Shopping today?” Her eyes darted over to Rhys, who was standing beside me. She quickly added, trying to sound casual, “Don’t get the wrong idea. My plumbing broke, so I called Dustin to fix it. It took until noon, so we just stopped to grab some groceries for lunch.” Buying groceries, and a brand-new Chanel handbag, apparently. In the past, I would have erupted. But now, I didn’t care at all. Dustin’s eyes were locked onto Rhys like magnets. After a long silence, his eyes narrowed, and he spoke, his voice raw. “Avery. Who is he?”

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The year the earthquake hit, my sister and I were buried under the rubble. The rescuer said, “The structure is unstable. Saving one might cause the rest to collapse.” My parents screamed without hesitation: “Save my older daughter first!” My sister also screamed from inside: “Save me first! Save me first!” During the rescue, the firefighters emphasized again and again: Do not move. But my sister didn’t listen. She pushed violently against everything around her. Because of her, the debris shifted, and I was crushed to death by the collapsing weight. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the earthquake. 1 I jolted awake in bed, checking the date on my phone. It was the day. Two hours left. The quake would hit at 2:00 AM. It was exactly midnight. I didn’t have time to think. I put on my shoes and ran out. In my past life, the earthquake crushed so many people. Since I was reborn, I couldn’t just stand by. I had to save as many as I could. I started from the first floor, banging on doors one by one. Once I confirmed the sleepy residents were awake, I moved to the next. By the time I woke up the entire seven-story building, only five minutes remained. I sprinted home. Two minutes left. In my past life, I wasted the best escape window trying to save my sister. This time, I’d leave that heroic opportunity to the mother who loved her most. I ran to my parents’ room. “Mom, Dad, earthquake! Wake up!” They woke up groggily. Forty seconds left. “I just tried to wake Chloe, but she won’t wake up. What do we do?” My parents started to argue: “Who says there’s an earthquake? In the middle of the night, you…” Before they finished, the building began to shake. “Chloe is still sleeping!” I urged. Mom’s face filled with terror. She rushed towards Chloe’s room, screaming, “Chloe! Wake up! Get up, earthquake!” Dad grabbed me and we ran downstairs. The quake was violent, giving no time for hesitation. Just as Dad and I escaped the building, a deafening BOOM echoed. The building collapsed. Mom and Chloe were trapped in the ruins. Screams and wails filled the air. A piercing ring filled my ears, blurring my vision. Memories of my past life flooded back. That day, when the shaking started, I jumped up and ran to the door, seeing Chloe still asleep. I tried to pull her, wake her, but she slept like the dead. Mom and Dad had already escaped, and I missed my chance. We were both trapped. When daylight came, rescuers found us. I heard Mom calling out in distress, but only for Chloe. “Chloe, hang in there! Someone is coming to save you! You have to hold on!” After assessing the site, the rescuers told Mom: “The terrain is complex. Saving one might cause a secondary collapse. We suggest saving the one on the left first; it’s more stable.” Chloe and I both heard this. I didn’t even need to guess; I knew Mom wouldn’t pick me. From childhood, Chloe was the apple of her eye. And I, the second child, was always the unwanted one. Sure enough, Mom said firmly: “Save Chloe. Save the one on the right. The one in white.” Chloe screamed at that moment: “Mom, save me! My leg hurts! Save me first, Mom!” I felt cold all over. Through the cracks, I saw Mom’s worried gaze fixed solely on Chloe. The firefighters moved gently, trying their best to save both of us. They kept warning Chloe: “Don’t move. If you move, your sister might get crushed.” As they slowly pulled Chloe out, she ignored them. She flailed her arms, pushing everything around her. She shoved whatever she could reach, disregarding the firefighters’ shouts. The moment Chloe was pulled free, a massive weight crushed down on me. It squeezed the air out of my lungs. The pain was unbearable. I screamed, “Mom, save me! It hurts! Mom, help!” The rescue team sped up, calling for more hands to dig me out. But then I heard Mom say to them: “Don’t bother with the one inside. Even if you save her, she’ll be crippled. I don’t have the energy to raise a cripple.” I watched the small hole of light get completely blocked. Just like my life, fading into darkness. Lying in the dark ruins, I waited in terror for my death. After an eternity, I finally closed my eyes in exhaustion. When I opened them again, I was back on the day of the earthquake. This time, I want you to feel what it’s like to be chosen, and then abandoned. 2 Dad’s scream snapped me back to reality. I pulled him back: “Dad, watch out for aftershocks. Let’s go to the open area. Rescuers will come soon. Mom and Chloe will be fine.” Dad was in shock, completely dazed. Yeah, experiencing this for the first time would shatter anyone’s world. But I was different. I had already died in this earthquake once. I wasn’t afraid. Every day I lived now was a bonus. Rescuers arrived quickly. Dad rushed over, begging them to save his family. But the building was a pile of rubble; it was impossible to tell where Mom and Chloe were buried. But I knew. I deliberately led the rescuers in the opposite direction, “coincidentally” hearing an old lady’s cry for help. They saved her. Two more hours passed. Six hours from burial to discovery. I shouted: “Dad! Mom is over here!” Dad called the lead rescuer over. They surveyed the terrain, observing the situation inside. They delivered the bad news: “The terrain is complex. Saving one might cause a secondary collapse.” Such familiar words. Through the cracks, I saw Chloe’s pale face and Mom’s terrified expression. Dad hesitated. Both were his loves. How to choose? Unlike me, they made up their minds quickly back then. Heh. I heard Chloe scream: “Dad, save me! I don’t want to die! Dad, I can make money when I grow up, I can marry, I can take care of you! “Mom is just a woman who does chores. You can find another one, right? I’m worth more than Mom, Dad!” I watched Mom’s expression shatter. I lowered my head, hiding a smile. Surprise, Mom. The daughter you treasured sees you like this. To her, you’re just a replaceable nanny. Dad made his decision: “Save my daughter.” Mom was abandoned. She shrieked: “David Zhang, don’t you dare remarry! If I die, I’ll haunt you! “And you, Chloe Zhang! I was blind! I didn’t know you were so selfish!” Chloe’s legs were pinned, pain driving her mad. “So what if I’m selfish? I’m telling the truth! I am more valuable. Dad choosing me is smart!” Mom’s look of hatred was truly delightful to see. But I couldn’t let Mom die just like that. I shouted into the ruins: “Mom! Mom, don’t be scared! I will definitely save you! You have to hold on! Mom, don’t give up! I’m coming to save you!” Such heartwarming words. Compared to Chloe, I was the perfect filial daughter. Only I knew, I just wanted to deepen her resentment towards Chloe. The terrain was tricky. It took a lot of effort for the rescuers to pull Chloe out. When she was dragged out, I noticed her legs had turned black. I heard a medic say: “These legs might need amputation.” After Chloe was out, the secondary collapse didn’t happen on Mom’s side. Maybe because the position was different, or maybe because Chloe didn’t flail around this time. Mom was saved too. Both were sent to the hospital. Dad went with Chloe, and I went with Mom. I was getting more and more excited. After waking up, would Mom resent Chloe? Or, despite being stabbed in the back by her beloved daughter… Would she still only have eyes for her? 3 Looking at Mom, unconscious in the hospital bed, I stared at her intensely. For so many years, this was the first time I could look at her face so seriously. Growing up, Mom never really looked at me. Grandma said Mom wanted a son for her second child. She paid a huge fine just to have me. But alas, I was a girl. Mom was furious. From birth, I was dumped at Grandma’s. Grandma had no choice. She couldn’t watch me starve. Luckily, two neighbors had just given birth. I survived by scavenging breast milk here and there. Until I was eight and needed to start elementary school. Grandma called Dad, and he brought me to town for school. Chloe was two years older. When I started first grade, she was in third. I had zero educational foundation. First grade was a struggle. My grades were always at the bottom. Mom didn’t like me. Every day after school, I had to do chores. Dishes, laundry, sweeping, mopping… that was my daily life. My study time was compressed to the limit. My grades never caught up until middle school. Chloe, however, was always top three. Parents spoiled her like a princess. My birthday was a month after hers, but they never celebrated mine. I couldn’t even eat her birthday cake. They said I would steal her luck. But now, Chloe’s legs were amputated, her face ruined by rebar. Would they still love her? I stared at Mom’s face, my expression shifting from resentment to concern. Because she woke up. She looked at me, stunned at first, then relieved. I stepped forward with concern: “Mom~ You’re awake? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? I’ll call the doctor.” Mom grabbed me. Her first question was: “How is your sister?” I almost lost my composure. “Sister isn’t doing well. Both legs amputated, face disfigured. She hasn’t woken up yet.” Mom fell silent. She lay there without a word. Couldn’t tell if she was sad or happy. She seemed to be thinking, weighing her options. On the day Mom was discharged, Chloe woke up. Lying in the hospital bed, seeing Mom alive, she didn’t know how to react. Dad wasn’t there, probably figuring out our housing situation. Chloe didn’t know her legs were gone yet. Didn’t know about the centipede-like scars on her face. After a long hesitation, Chloe spoke: “Mom… glad you’re okay. We’re both alive, that’s best, right? Don’t blame me, I was just scared.” Mom’s expression was ugly. The despair of facing death was something she’d never forget. I walked to Mom, holding her arm: “Mom, you just woke up, sit down and rest. If you weren’t lucky, I would have…” I stopped there. Adults hate ominous talk. Stopping there was more effective. Mom’s gaze at Chloe grew more disgusted. Chloe glared at me hatefully: “Zoe Zhang, stop trying to drive a wedge between us. Mom will never like you.” Her words seemed to remind Mom of something. She turned around, grabbed my hand, eyes reddening instantly. “I didn’t raise you in vain. It was Mom’s fault. I treated you badly before. Don’t worry, Mom will change. I will make it up to you, double.” I smiled and held her hand back, tilting my head to give Chloe a triumphant smirk. But a question mark hung in my heart. Would Mom really keep her word? 4 Dinner time. Dad rushed back with three box lunches. One for each of us. None for Chloe. She demanded: “Why don’t I have one?” Dad shoveled rice into his mouth: “You just had surgery, in a coma for days. Doctor said eat something easy to digest first. I’ll buy you porridge later.” Chloe was confused: “Surgery? What surgery?” The three of us eating froze. Chloe didn’t know her legs were gone. She was only half a person now. No one answered. Her emotions crumbled. Her voice rose: “Tell me! What surgery?” Mom lost patience. She walked over and ripped off the blanket. Empty bed. Her legs were gone. Chloe opened her mouth but no sound came out. Tears rolled down like pearls. Silent breakdown. Mom seemed unsatisfied with the shock. She took a photo of Chloe’s face with her phone and showed it to her. Chloe completely lost it. Screaming with her face covered, attracting the nurse’s scolding. “Quiet! This is a hospital. Don’t disturb other patients.” I watched Chloe’s face turn ghost white. She shook her head in disbelief, muttering: “Impossible, impossible, wasn’t I saved? How could this be?” I ate with my head down, watching the standoff. Mom’s resentment ran deep. Being looked down upon by her favorite daughter. Being heartlessly abandoned by her must have hurt like hell. I gnawed on a chicken leg, listening to Mom mock her: “Did you think being saved meant a happy life again? “You even told your dad to find another one? If he found a stepmom, look at you now. He’d run off with the new woman and forget about you! “I really didn’t expect it. I spoiled you so much, and you wanted me dead. Heh, I was blind.” Dad put down his lunch and went to show loyalty to Mom: “Wifey, I never thought of abandoning you. It was Zoe begging me, my heart softened.” Mom glared at Dad: “That day I only heard Zoe telling me not to give up. I only heard Zoe say she’d save me. Don’t treat me like a fool.” They argued. My lunch box was empty. Our house collapsed. Dad used connections to solve the immediate housing problem. After Chloe was discharged, we moved into a temporary shed. Chloe’s condition required constant care. Mom refused to touch her. Dad was inconvenient as a man. The burden fell on my shoulders. Chloe seemed to enjoy me serving her hand and foot. That made me unhappy. That day Chloe needed the toilet. I pretended not to hear, washing dishes outside. Mom and Dad were out. Only Chloe was inside. I finished the dishes, then hung the laundry in the sun. Mom came back, saw me working, and offered to help. Then we heard a thud. We ran in. Chloe had fallen, covered in her own filth. Mom walked out in disgust. Took several breaths before going back in. Dad returned, called me over, said he found a school for me to transfer to. I left quickly. Only Mom and Chloe remained in the shed. Chloe was dying of shame. When Mom tried to help, she pushed her away. Mom got covered in filth too. But she still dragged Chloe into the plastic tub. Chloe cried. Mom endured the smell and washed her. Neither spoke, but the care wasn’t fake. How could a mother abandon her own daughter? Then what about me? Why did she abandon me back then?

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My father had a custom pool built in our backyard, supposedly to help me conquer my fear of the water. But I was terrified of even dipping my toes in, so he never pushed it, letting me stay on the deck with a super-soaker while he swam laps. Then my little brother, Leo, was born, and he became the sun this entire household orbited around. The day everything changed, Leo was standing by the edge, his feet slipping on the wet tile. I instinctively reached out to grab him, but I was small and clumsy, and we both tumbled into the deep end. I fought to keep his head above the water. By the time Dad rushed over, all he saw was me shoving my brother’s head under. His eyes were blazing with a terrifying, primal fury. He grabbed the heavy-duty skimmer pole and brought it down on my hand with a sickening crack. “Killer! You tried to drown your brother!” He hauled Leo out, but he left me, the child who couldn’t swim, thrashing in the deep end. Then, he yanked the ladder out. “Stay in there and think about what you did! Maybe this will beat some sense into you!” They were too busy performing CPR on Leo, too frantic to look back at me, bobbing and struggling just a few feet away. Water burned my nostrils and lungs, but even in that crushing agony, the last thing I wondered was if they would still love me, once I was saved. 1 My body felt impossibly light. I was floating. I looked down and saw the small form—the one always dressed in ill-fitting, hand-me-down t-shirts—curled up at the bottom of the deep end. My hair fanned out like dark seaweed, obscuring the pale, tiny face. The motion-sensor lights in the backyard flickered, illuminating the scene. Outside, the siren’s red and blue strobed across the front of our suburban mansion. Medics rushed in with a stretcher. My mother, Vicky, her face tear-streaked and hysterical, clung to Leo’s hand. “Baby, don’t you dare scare Mommy! Please, don’t you dare!” My father, Richard, hovered over them, his face a mask of panicked concern. They rushed the stretcher out to the ambulance, their footsteps ragged and urgent. From start to finish, not one person glanced back at the backyard. The ambulance wailed into the night, carrying away all their hope and worry. The house sank back into a deathly silence. I floated above the pool, watching the water smooth out. When the last ripples vanished, the dark-blue water was like a massive, polished sapphire, perfectly concealing the horror beneath it. From the deck, the surface was flat as glass; there was no hint of the dead child at the bottom. After the ambulance left, my father strode back to the patio. He still had the broken skimmer pole clenched in his hand, his expression so dark it felt like the air itself was condensing around him. “You little sociopath! Get out here!” He stopped at the glass doors, his gaze sweeping the empty yard like a predator’s. I floated right in front of him, close enough for my spectral presence to brush his nose. I tried to whisper, “Dad,” but no sound came out. He couldn’t see me. His eyes passed over the pool’s tranquil surface, pausing for barely half a second before moving on. No waves, no splash. To him, that meant I had climbed out, and now I was running, hiding out of guilt. “Oh, you think you’re tough, now, do you?” He sneered, slamming the skimmer pole onto the cobblestone patio. The metal scraped against the stone, sending up a shower of sparks. “Tried to murder your brother, and now you want to play hide-and-seek? Grow up!” He stomped toward the utility shed, kicking the door panel hard. “Come out! Don’t think for a second I’ll let you off just because you’re hiding! You have a toxic heart! That’s your brother, and you attacked him!” “You always seemed so meek, but you’re just a poisonous, ungrateful brat!” Every word was a shard of glass, embedding itself into my dead body at the bottom of the pool. He had convicted me long ago. No trial, no evidence needed. If Leo cried, I was the sole culprit. The shed was empty, save for a few terrified cockroaches scurrying away. Not finding me only fueled his rage. He turned around, hands on his hips, his chest heaving violently. His eyes fell back on the pool. This time, he stared at the dark-blue water, and a flicker of pure disgust crossed his face. “Hiding? Fine. Let’s see how long you can hide.” He must have been convinced I was watching him from a corner, waiting for him to cool down. He stalked toward the pool’s control panel. There was a red button there. The switch for the automatic pool cover. It was usually only used to prevent leaves from falling in or when closing the pool for the winter. The cover was made of thick, heavy, canvas-like material. Once sealed, it could hold the weight of several grown men. I didn’t understand what he was doing. Not until his finger slammed down on that red button. “RUMBLE—” The roar of the motor starting up was jarring in the dead quiet of the night. The spool at the end of the pool began to turn, and the thick, opaque, dark-blue fabric began to roll out, like a massive mouth slowly swallowing the water’s surface. No! I shrieked soundlessly, trying desperately to pull his hand away. Dad, I’m right here, under the water! If you cover it, truly no one will ever find me! The canvas scraped along the rails, a nerve-jangling, grinding sound. Three feet, six feet, nine feet… The water, which had been gently glimmering, was slowly smothered by darkness. Richard stood by the switch, a look of vindictive satisfaction on his face. “Since you like hiding so much, don’t come out.” “That’ll stop you from running off and hurting someone else! Let’s see how long this little menace can stay hidden!” He thought that sealing the pool would prevent me from ever pushing Leo in again. He didn’t know he was sealing his own daughter inside her tomb. The motor whirred to a stop. Click. The lock engaged. Air-tight. The entire pool was now a flat expanse of dark-blue canvas, a colossal coffin lid. Richard turned toward the glass doors. Before going inside, he made a point of sliding the old-fashioned deadbolt home. The sound of the bolt locking was sharp and final. Through the glass, he glared at the empty patio, at the sealed pool. He yelled, his voice laced with venom: “You can feed the damn mosquitos out here! Think about your black heart!” “And no one is opening this door for you until morning!” With a sudden, violent movement, he yanked the heavy blackout curtains closed. The warm indoor light was completely cut off. The world outside dissolved into a perfect, impenetrable blackness.

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The moment I got the test results, I snapped a photo and texted it to Sloane, telling her about the tumor in my brain. I waited a long time on a bench in the crowded hospital lobby before she finally replied. Her tone was dripping with disdain: “You couldn’t even fake a normal diagnosis, could you? Are we playing some kind of amnesia game, Rhys?” I froze. Before I could reply, another message flashed on my screen, cutting me off: “Fine. I know what you want. But honestly? You deserve whatever is happening to you!” She hung up, leaving me with the blaring, sterile tone of a disconnect. I managed a bitter, hollow laugh. Tightly gripping my phone to steady the tremor in my right hand, I clicked back onto the trending topic. 1 #ActressSloaneGarrityNewRomanceExposed Sloane and I had been secretly married for two years, and in all that time, we’d never once been husband and wife in the true sense. Yet, this news story claimed Sloane and her new boyfriend were photographed holding hands and checking into the same boutique hotel. In the comments, her fan base was ecstatic, celebrating that Sloane had finally moved past the cloud of grief over her late ex-boyfriend. A clear photo of the new boyfriend, Kian Abbott, was quickly dug up. He was a college senior, and that handsome, vibrant face was strikingly similar to the man Sloane had never stopped mourning. Sloane’s critics immediately jumped on it, savagely attacking her for playing the ‘replacement lover’ trope. Normally, Sloane would personally shut down even a minor actor trying to use her name for clout, but today, she remained silent all morning. Once his personal details were exposed, Kian—eager to protect his girlfriend—rushed to post a very public statement: “I was the one who fell for her first. I pursued her. If you have a problem, direct it at me!” Kian’s post pushed the narrative to an absolute fever pitch. But even with the scandal at a boiling point, Sloane hadn’t contacted me, not once. I scrolled through Kian’s comments, watching him tear into the haters, and a constant, aching soreness welled up in my nose and throat. Six years of loving Sloane, and in this moment, it felt like the punchline to a cruel joke. I couldn’t stop the memory from flashing back: the year Sloane was at her lowest, I, too, had stood up and declared just as fiercely and fearlessly: “Sloane Garrity is my woman!” But Sloane, what am I supposed to do now? Because suddenly, I think I regret everything. 2 I had finished an entire carton of cigarettes by the time Kian walked unchallenged into the house Sloane and I shared—the house protected by layers of security. He was clearly pleased by the shock and agony he saw etched on my face. Under my icy, furious stare, Kian made himself comfortable on the sectional opposite me, just like the man of the house. Then, he delivered the cheap, tired line of every mistress: “Rhys, the unloved one is the outsider. If Sloane loved you, why would she never let anyone know you even exist?” “You should just do the decent thing, divorce her, and clear out now.” I looked at his triumphant expression and sneered, countering his confident bluff: “Sloane loves you so much, yet she never mentioned that you’re standing in my house, on my property, did she?” Kian’s face went white for a fraction of a second. He was about to say something else when the front door swung open and Sloane walked in. Kian immediately shot up from the sofa as if he’d been electrocuted, his expression melting into a mix of fear and wounded innocence. “I was just looking around the house, Sis. I—” Sloane stopped short. Her cold gaze flickered across my face for a moment, then, seeing Kian, it instantly warmed, melting away like winter ice. “Kian, I thought I told you to wait for me?” Her tone held a hint of scolding, but her face was alight with a gentle smile I had never once seen directed at me. Kian dutifully walked to her side, his young, unweathered eyes holding a look of unconcealed accusation. Sloane seemed to understand without words. She turned her fury on me. “Rhys, Kian is just a student. Do you really have to bring your corporate cynicism and threats into this?” Kian clearly reveled in Sloane’s fierce protection. He rested his chin on her shoulder, rubbing against her like a needy puppy, a stream of low, spoiled murmurs escaping his lips. I clenched my fists. In two years of marriage, Sloane and I had never shared a moment of such raw intimacy. Kian sensed my restraint. The challenge in his eyes sharpened, and right there, in front of me, he lightly pecked Sloane on her soft, rosy lips. Seeing that, I felt my blood rush to my head, a violent, overwhelming surge. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I lunged forward and slammed my fist into him with all my strength. Kian didn’t fight or dodge. He let the momentum take him, sprawling dramatically onto the floor. He looked up at Sloane with a pitiful, wounded expression. “Sis, does Rhys hit you like this, too?” Sloane’s heart was clearly breaking for him. She helped Kian up and shielded him behind her, turning a gaze on me that was cold as a glacier. “Rhys, since you find Kian so intolerable, then you can get out and move somewhere else!” I almost thought I’d misheard. My wife had brazenly brought her lover into our home, and she was demanding that I vacate the premises for them? It felt like a tidal wave was crashing through my brain. I swayed, barely catching myself on a nearby chair. Kian tugged gently on Sloane’s arm, feigning concern. “Sis, Rhys looks unwell. Maybe you should check on him.” Sloane’s frown deepened. She gave a sharp, cold snort. “Don’t bother. He’s just putting on a show for sympathy.” “He’s nearly thirty and still using these pathetic, childish tactics! Stop looking at me like that. Your fake sincerity is repulsive. And even if I bring Kian home, so what? I refuse to believe you haven’t been sleeping around behind my back!” With that, she disregarded me completely—me, who was struggling to stand upright and clutch the searing pain in my head. She took Kian’s hand and led him upstairs. As Kian stepped onto the first stair, he twisted around to give me a look of pure mockery and triumph. Watching their intimate retreat, I swallowed the words of protest and desperate appeal that had been building in my throat. How pathetic was I? Yet, looking at Sloane’s cold, stunning face, I couldn’t bring myself to utter a single word of blame. I had been faithful for two years, never pressuring her for anything. Then, one night, I’d overheard her on the phone with a friend, joking that I must either be impotent or have a harem of mistresses. I tried to talk to her, to explain, but each attempt was met with deeper suspicion and a casual, mocking reply: “I don’t mind an open marriage, Rhys.” Now, she was finally the one enjoying the ‘open marriage’ she had proposed. The bedroom door on the second floor clicked shut. I could vaguely hear Kian’s bright, unrestrained laughter. That sound was a set of sharp knives, twisting again and again in my already shredded heart.

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