Category: English

1 My CEO husband’s secretary, Bunny, always referred to herself in the third person. During a billion-dollar negotiation, she took our key client to a filthy street food stall. The oil was black, the meat was turning bad, and the client got severe food poisoning on the spot. Bunny just giggled and stuck her tongue out at me. “Oopsie! Bunny thinks she messed up Sister’s wittle project. But Bunny twied her best, so she’s still the bestest, wight?” My husband, Caleb, rushed to comfort her. “It’s fine. Consider it practice for Bunny.” He dismissed me with a look. “Even if you’d landed this deal, your dying company wouldn’t last another year. Just let it go bankrupt.” “And before you do,” he added, “don’t forget Bunny’s bonus—a hundred or two hundred thousand for her help.” No wonder he was so calm. He thought it was my company’s project that failed. I smiled and nodded. After all, the company about to collapse wasn’t mine. … Seeing me agree so readily, Caleb stared at me for a long moment, surprised. Finally, he let out a condescending chuckle. “You know, Serena, your problem is you’re incredibly petty.” “Even though you’re agreeing, I know you’re fuming inside. It’s that kind of small-minded, short-sighted attitude that’s holding you back from ever achieving anything great.” Bunny pouted beside him, a taunting smile in her wide, stupid eyes. “Huh? Bunny doesn’t understand.” “Caleb-waleb, why are you being mean to Sister? She didn’t say she was unhappy.” Caleb snorted. “You think I don’t know her? She’s a master of saying one thing and meaning another.” Bunny hid behind Caleb, her voice a petulant whine. “So you’re a bad woman! You lied to Bunny!” I watched their little duet with a deadpan expression. No matter what I did, Caleb always found a reason to be dissatisfied. He glared at me, his voice a command. “How could you lie to someone as kind and innocent as Bunny? Do you have a conscience?” “Make her bonus five hundred thousand! As compensation. Not a penny less, you hear me?” I almost burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. This was a sure-thing deal we had secured long ago; today’s lunch was just a formality before signing the contracts. And Bunny’s moronic stunt had flushed it all down the toilet. She’d cost the company hundreds of millions in losses—enough bad debt to bankrupt a smaller firm. And for that, she was getting a reward? Fine. It was Caleb’s company. If he wasn’t worried, why should I be? I nodded eagerly and immediately had my assistant draw up the bonus application for Bunny. I held the tablet out to Caleb. “Mr. Thorne, I just need your signature for approval.” He frowned. “It’s your company’s money. Why do I need to sign?” I lied without blinking. “Even though it’s my company, it’s technically our joint marital property. Five hundred thousand is no small sum. Of course, I need your approval.” As Caleb’s brow furrowed in suspicion, Bunny started tugging at his sleeve. With half a million dollars dangling in front of her, her eyes were practically bugging out of her head. “Caleb-waleb, are you done yet? Let’s go eat.” “Bunny barely ate anything taking care of the client. My tummy hurts from being so hungry.” Instantly, all of Caleb’s attention was back on her. He scribbled his signature without a second look. Then, with an arm around Bunny’s shoulders, he shoved me aside. I wasn’t angry at all. I took a moment to admire Caleb’s flourishing signature on the document. Caleb had always been a hands-off CEO who knew nothing about the business. When he saw my company doing well, he’d dumped his own failing enterprise on me. He called it “an opportunity to develop my skills.” When I took over, his company was an empty, dilapidated shell. After a year of back-breaking work, I finally found this one golden opportunity that could make it soar. And his precious Bunny had ruined it all in a single afternoon. I hoped Caleb would be just as carefree when he realized it was his company on the verge of bankruptcy. I took the signed e-document straight to his company’s finance department. The accountant’s face went pale as she processed the transfer. The company had sunk nearly all of its liquid capital into this deal. Another half-million out the door would cripple its basic operations. But what did that have to do with me? After tying up the loose ends, I headed back to the hospital. Outside, I received a text from Bunny. “Good girl. Glad you knew to send the money.” “Bitch, is your company going bankrupt now that the deal is dead? Congrats!” She was in for a disappointment. I was going to save the deal, of course. It just wouldn’t be under Caleb’s name. I pushed open the door to the private room. “Mr. Sterling, I am so sorry about what happened today.” Mr. Sterling looked displeased, but not with me. “You don’t need to blame yourself. Honestly, if you hadn’t brokered this, I never would have considered giving the project to Caleb Thorne in the first place.” “Serena, do you understand what I’m saying?” My eyes flickered. I quickly changed the subject. “Mr. Sterling, to express my sincere apology, I’ve arranged a VIP suite for you. Please rest and recover. From now on, I will personally oversee every aspect of our collaboration.” I put special emphasis on the word “our.” Mr. Sterling nodded, satisfied. By the time I returned to my own office with the newly signed contract, Caleb and Bunny were already there. Bunny tossed a hotel key card onto my desk with a smirk. “I heard your company is in trouble, so I pulled some strings with a big boss for you. You can chat about an acquisition.” “If Sister works hard, maybe you can even sell for a little more, hmm?” My face went cold. I looked at Caleb. “I am still your legal wife!” “What is the meaning of this?” He saw no issue with Bunny’s blatant humiliation. Instead, he scowled at me. “Don’t be so ungrateful! Bunny heard you were in a bind and went out of her way to find someone for you. With the mess you’re in, you’re lucky to find a buyer at all!” I remembered when we were just starting out. Caleb had said we would build two companies and always have each other’s backs. That no matter how hard things got, we would never abandon one another. Ever since Bunny arrived, a chasm had grown between us. And now, before we’d even hit rock bottom, he could say something like this. A chill crept into my heart. “My company is in trouble, and you won’t help me? What about your promise?” Caleb exploded. “Serena, so that’s it! You were only with me for my money, waiting for me to bail you out!” He pointed at the key card. “This is just a reservation card for a business lounge! Do you think Bunny is as dirty-minded as you?” “Besides, this was a test for you.” His voice was dripping with self-righteousness. “If you had fought with everything you had and still failed, I would have helped you.” “But unfortunately, you failed my test.” Caleb slapped a post-nuptial property division agreement on the table. “Sign it. I’m deeply disappointed in you. I have no obligation to pay for your mistakes.” He wanted to completely sever his company from mine. I gave him a long, meaningful look. “Fortunes can turn on a dime in this business. When your company needs a lifeline, can you promise you won’t come to me?” Bunny burst into a fit of giggles, collapsing into Caleb’s arms. “Sister, you should focus on cleaning up your own mess first!” “Oh my god, Bunny has never met someone with so little self-awareness!” Caleb’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “You?” “Serena, don’t make a fool of yourself. Sign the agreement. When you’re truly broke, I might let you be a housewife. Don’t be so greedy.” My heart turned to ice. I signed the document without a word. Then I pulled out the divorce papers. “I’ve signed. Now you sign this.” “And I hope you remember what you said today.” Caleb froze for a second, then chuckled. “Playing hard to get? Who taught you that trick?” “You don’t actually think I’m going to beg you to stay, do you?” When I just stared at him, he slowly signed his name. He shot me one last contemptuous look. “Serena, I’m waiting for the day you come crawling back, begging me not to leave you.” With that, he left, Bunny trotting gleefully behind him. I immediately took the papers to my lawyer to start the divorce proceedings. I couldn’t wait another second. To keep Caleb from discovering the truth about his company, I had to pretend I was really looking for a buyer. I contacted the person Bunny had recommended. We met at the business lounge that weekend. The man across from me didn’t beat around the bush. “Sweetheart, I hear your company’s going bankrupt. Ten thousand dollars. I’ll buy it.” I laughed. It was insulting. Even on the brink of collapse, Caleb’s company, which I had slaved over for a year, was still worth millions. He wanted to buy my hard work for ten thousand dollars? What a joke. I rolled my eyes and stood up to leave. But when I opened the door, I came face-to-face with Bunny. “Sister, you’re not satisfied with ten thousand? That’s a fortune!” I just stared at her. “If the company were liquidated, Caleb would never settle for so little.” Bunny shoved me back into the room. “Bitch! Don’t you dare use Caleb to threaten me! You think he gives a damn about you?” “I bet you didn’t know, he set the price himself! He said you and your pathetic little company are only worth that much!” She waved her hand, and two women appeared behind her. They were the housekeepers Caleb had hired for our home. Caleb’s backing had made her utterly arrogant. “You’re signing this today, whether you like it or not!” The two women, their grips like iron, grabbed me and forced me into a chair. They pressed my thumb onto the ink pad and stamped my print on the contract. Then they pried my right hand open, trying to force me to sign. I struggled with all my might, leaving a series of frantic squiggles on the acquisition contract. Bunny clicked her tongue in annoyance. She slapped me, twice. “You want to do this the hard way? Are you going to sign or not?” My face was already swelling, but I managed a defiant smile. “You’re just a secretary Caleb is sleeping with. Why should I listen to you?” “Serena! You dare look down on me?!” Bunny saw red. She slapped me again and again, a dozen times or more. When her arm got tired, she had the housekeepers take over. They didn’t hesitate, as if they were certain Bunny was their future mistress. The slaps rained down on my face until I was on the verge of blacking out. After what felt like an eternity, Bunny grabbed me by the collar again. “I’m asking you one last time. Are. You. Signing?” My cheeks were on fire, my head spinning. “I’ll sign… I’ll sign… please, just stop…” After I signed, Bunny fished the company seal out of my bag and stamped the document. She admired the contract with a triumphant smile. I smiled with her. Because she didn’t know that the seal she had just used belonged to Caleb’s company. Just as the contract was signed, Caleb walked in. Bunny immediately snuggled up to him, seeking praise. “Wasn’t Bunny amazing? Bunny got Sister to sign the contract!” “Good job.” Caleb turned to me. He saw my face, swollen like a pig’s, and my pathetic form slumped on the floor. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes before he hardened them. “Ten thousand was more than generous. You brought this on yourself.” I used the wall to pull myself up, my face a blank mask. “You’re right.” Caleb froze, the rest of his taunt dying in his throat. “Tomorrow,” he finally said, “you will hold a press conference. You will publicly announce that your company was acquired for ten thousand dollars, and that you are leaving the industry for good.” He wanted to make me a laughingstock, to ensure I could never recover. I nodded. Caleb, thinking I had finally submitted, softened his tone slightly. “If you had just been this obedient from the start.” “Alright, after the press conference, we’ll call it even. Stop causing trouble, come home, and I won’t abandon you completely.” I pulled myself to my feet, my expression unchanged. “Yes. It’s over.” It wasn’t just this incident that was over. He was over. In my life, he was finished. Seeing me stumble, Caleb seemed to reach out to steady me. I slapped his hand away. The tiny spark of pity he’d felt for me was instantly extinguished. “Serena, and here I thought you’d learned your lesson.” “When you’re broke and come begging, if you’re not on your knees crawling and barking like a dog, I won’t even give you the time of day!” I suddenly smiled, looking back at him over my shoulder. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” “When the time comes, I’ll be sure to do the same.” I left him there, puzzling over my words, and walked out. The next day, the press conference was a hive of whispers and rumors. “I heard she had to spread her legs to find a buyer!” “Didn’t Thorne Industries just land that billion-dollar deal? Weren’t they supposed to become a major player? What happened?” “Maybe she negotiated that billion-dollar deal in bed too! And the guy just used her and dumped her! Hahaha!” In a single night, Caleb had launched a full-scale smear campaign. He and Bunny sat in the front row, waiting for the show. I was calm. “Thank you all for coming. I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors.” “But—” I extended a hand towards Caleb in the audience. “—I believe Mr. Caleb Thorne is better qualified than I am to make this announcement.” All eyes turned to him. Caleb scoffed and threw his hands up. “It seems Ms. Thorne can’t face this tragic reality. I suppose I’ll have to do it for her.” He strode onto the stage, whispering in my ear as he passed, “What, you called me up here to beg for forgiveness in public?” “That’s a bit much, even for you. You’re putting me in an awkward position.” I handed him the speech, my face impassive. “I’m not the one who’ll be kneeling. But you? We’ll see.” Caleb sneered, opened the folder, and began to read in a lazy, mocking tone. “Good morning, members of the press. Regarding the rumors of my company being acquired for ten thousand dollars—” “They are true.” The room erupted. Flashes from the cameras turned the stage into a sea of white light. Bunny was already howling with laughter, even letting out an excited whistle. Caleb basked in the moment, continuing without a thought. “Caelus Corp has been fully acquired for the price of ten thousand dollars—” “Caelus Corp? Serena, did you make a mistake?”

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When I cry, a crescent moon birthmark appears on my face. My three childhood friends brought the new transfer student to me, demanding I cry so she could see it. Lucas frowned. “Iris did poorly on the exam. Just do it to cheer her up.” I looked at the other two. “What about you guys? You want me to cry for her too?” They exchanged a look and took a half-step back. “How could we make Chloe cry?” “Chloe’s tears are our most precious treasure.” 1 Iris’s expression froze on her face. She looked at the other two, then reluctantly lowered her head. “Let’s just forget it. Chloe and I aren’t close anyway, it’s normal for her to refuse…” Lucas frowned. “Chloe, are you really unwilling?” I laughed in anger. “She did poorly on the exam, what does that have to do with me?” We weren’t even in the same class. In other words, do I even know this transfer student?! Seeing Lucas’s disappointment, Iris tugged at his sleeve, her eyes red. “Doing poorly on the exam is my own problem, let’s not make things difficult for others.” Lucas stood stubbornly still. Iris seemed unable to hold it in anymore. She stomped her foot, covered her face in humiliation, and ran out. Lucas stared at me. He hesitated, then said, “Chloe, there was no need for that.” I was getting angry. But he turned and chased after her. Psycho?! Who cries for a stranger just for kicks? 2 I slammed my pen on the desk. Two people sat down opposite me. Usually, the three of them would surround me. Ethan touched my ponytail. “Don’t be mad at Lucas. He’s been acting like he’s brainwashed lately.” “What do you mean?” My two childhood friends looked at each other. Ethan finally told me. “The new girl sat next to Lucas as soon as she arrived.” “She keeps telling him how expensive the tuition is here, how hard it was for her to get in but everything is bilingual and she doesn’t understand, and she can’t fit in with any groups.” “Lucas… he probably just felt sorry for her.” I still didn’t like hearing it. Lucas felt sorry for her, so he wanted me to cry for a stranger for no reason? What’s wrong with him? Ethan smiled. “Don’t be unhappy. We have equestrian class next week, I’ll take you riding, okay?” The four of us grew up together. We promised long ago to go to the same college. Lucas was being ridiculous. But the others weren’t wrong. I pouted. “Whatever, I’m too lazy to deal with him.” 3 After school. There was a figure next to Lucas. Acting scared. She hid behind him when she saw us. Lucas walked over. “We’ve been waiting for a long time.” Specific wording: We. He said, “Iris’s English foundation isn’t good. She messed up the exam mainly because she couldn’t understand the questions.” No one spoke. He looked at me. “Chloe, I remember you have a foreign tutor. Can Iris join your lessons?” My gaze landed on her face. Iris couldn’t dodge it. She could only soften her voice. “Chloe, would that be too much trouble for you…” “It is very troublesome.” My face went cold. Iris looked helpless. She tugged at Lucas for help. “Maybe I should just figure something out myself…” He sighed. “I suggested helping her with tutoring. If you don’t want to, just say so. No need to be so sharp.” I stared at Lucas. Suddenly, my childhood friend felt like a stranger. “I’m sharp?” “If I wasn’t sharp, would I have to cry to make someone else laugh just because you pissed me off?” Lucas paused slightly. “I didn’t mean that. Iris just said she’d never seen…” I didn’t want to listen. I turned and walked away alone. Behind me, the usual three sets of footsteps became two. Mason caught up to me. “Don’t wait for him, but wait for us.” “Lucas is an idiot, but we aren’t.” He walked backward facing me. “Ethan, tell her, am I right?” Ethan put away his phone. He followed unhurriedly. “Lucas said I should comfort you.” “Is there more?” Ethan was silent for a moment. “He said… neither he nor Iris had bad intentions, he doesn’t understand why you’re being so unreasonable.” “Damn!” Mason yelled. “Is that comforting her?!” I looked away. “Whatever.” 4 Halfway through my oral practice. My mom called me and I realized today was Auntie Qiao’s birthday (Mason’s mom). She didn’t want a big party, so just our close families were getting together. I pushed open the door. Iris was chatting with my three childhood friends. The atmosphere was lively. Meeting my gaze, their faces changed in unison. I turned to leave. Mason immediately chased after me. “Chloe, don’t go!” “What’s wrong, are you mad?” He grabbed my hand from behind. Trying to explain: “Lucas was helping her with English, so he brought her along. I couldn’t exactly kick her out.” “Don’t be mad, okay?” I was silent. I had to admit, seeing Iris sitting where I should have been sitting… Anger rushed straight to my head. After calming down a bit, I realized. That wasn’t my house. I had no right to dictate where Iris should be. I smiled. “I just remembered I have something to do.” Mason wouldn’t let go. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Why does your smile seem so distant?” He probed. “Do you really hate Iris that much?” “Would you like someone who wants to see your physiological reaction the moment you meet?” Mason was stumped. He raised his hands in surrender. “Just for today, it’s my mom’s birthday, we can’t make a scene.” “Chloe, don’t be mad. I won’t talk to her anymore, okay?” I walked back with him. Very seriously: “Who you hang out with is your choice.” “Mason, I won’t interfere.” “But I also have my bottom line for making friends.”

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To attend the same college as my rich second-generation boyfriend, I filled my college entrance exam answer sheet with wrong answers. But half an hour before the exam ended, several bullet screen comments (danmu) suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This idiot supporting character. She has the brains for an Ivy League school but insists on playing the ‘devoted to community college’ role. Did a donkey kick her in the head?] [She really latched onto the male lead, huh? Too bad he’s just been using her for amusement from start to finish. Does she really think she has a shot at being a wealthy young mistress?] [Just a gold digger. If she knew she isn’t even in Caleb’s future plans, would she go crazy on the spot?] [Caleb must be tired pretending to be a slacker. He’s really going all out just to win a bet.] My hand holding the eraser paused. Then, I erased all the wrong answers on the answer sheet. 1 After writing the last word of my essay, I looked up at the clock. Thirty minutes left until the exam ended. This was a high-scoring essay, smooth and profound. Under normal circumstances, it would deserve a near-perfect score. But right now, it was like gold thrown into a dumpster— Because I had carefully filled in wrong answers for all the multiple-choice questions on this exam, and deliberately left one-third of the subjective questions blank. Yes, I was intentionally tanking my score. For Caleb. The rich second-generation boyfriend who secretly held my hand under the desk during evening study sessions and used his deep voice to describe “simple happiness in an ordinary college.” He said he was dumb and could only scrape into a second-tier college even if he tried his best. He said he couldn’t live without me, that campus life would be meaningless without me. He even imagined wedding cannons and white veils with me, as if happiness was within reach as long as we settled for mediocrity. So I played along, sinking with him, personally strangling the opportunity I had earned through ten years of hard study. But just as I was about to cap my pen and pack up, a light flashed before my eyes, and several lines of semi-transparent text floated across my answer sheet like bullet screen comments on a video. [This idiot supporting character. She has the brains for an Ivy League school but insists on playing the ‘devoted to community college’ role. Did a donkey kick her in the head?] My breath hitched, and I froze. Hallucination? Or hysteria from exam stress? Before I could sort out my thoughts, the second and third lines followed, dripping with sharper sarcasm: [She really latched onto the male lead, huh? Too bad he’s just been using her for amusement from start to finish. Does she really think she has a shot at being a wealthy young mistress?] [Just a gold digger. If she knew she isn’t even in Caleb’s future plans, would she go crazy on the spot?] [Caleb must be tired pretending to be a slacker. He’s really going all out just to win a bet.] Amusement? Bet? Pretending to be a slacker? My mind went blank for a second. Then, Caleb’s deeply affectionate eyes surfaced before me, twisted, and finally turned into the wrong options on the answer sheet in front of me. I looked up in confusion, staring at the powerful conclusion of my essay, “A bright future,” and actually started to hesitate. Even if these words were fake, was I really going to hand over my last card to Caleb with both hands? But as soon as I closed my eyes, I could recall Caleb standing before me with a huge bouquet of roses, swearing, “Tingting, I will definitely marry you.” Twenty-five minutes left. Time was tight, allowing no room for thought or verification. I gripped the eraser in my hand without hesitation and began to scrub the answer sheet furiously. Twenty-five minutes was enough to change all the multiple-choice answers and flesh out the key points for the subjective questions. … The bell finally rang. The answer sheets were collected in order, but the text on the desk continued to scroll. [What is the supporting character doing? Cold feet at the last minute? Too late.] [She’s erasing hard, but unfortunately, life doesn’t have an eraser. Her brain must be rusty after all these years.] [Exactly. Caleb burns the midnight oil studying after hanging out with her. How could a love-struck fool like her possibly outscore him?] I stopped my trembling hands. Looking at these comments again, my eyes turned cold. How did they know that Caleb wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil? 2 It’s true that I like Caleb. But my feelings for him are seven parts affection, three parts rationality. After all, the day I met Caleb, I had just ranked first in the city and was being kicked out of my house. “First in the city? Xie Ting, are you crazy? How much money did you steal from home to pay tuition?!” My mom screamed, spit flying onto my face. “I earned it from part-time jobs.” I clutched the report card, knuckles white. “That little money is useless! The neighbor Old Wang’s daughter married a factory owner before finishing high school. Now she wears gold and silver and owns three houses! And you? Did reading books turn into gold for you?” My dad squatted in the corner smoking, the cheap tobacco smoke hiding his expression. “Get out! You’re an eyesore! Don’t stand here blocking the way.” Bang! The heavy slam of the security door triggered the hallway lights. I was swept out like trash, without mercy. Nowhere to go, didn’t even grab a coat. The report card I was so proud of became waste paper in an instant. —Turns out my hard work, my grades, were worthless. Yet I counted on them to give me a way out. How ridiculous. Caleb appeared at that moment. When I was nearly frozen numb, piercing headlights cut through the darkness. Caleb sat in the back seat of a Porsche, wearing a well-tailored cashmere coat, a dark scarf highlighting his cold, fair skin. “Student,” he said, his voice gentle, “Aren’t you cold?” I looked at him. I watched him drape an expensive scarf over me, saw the inherent ease and superiority that money piled up around him, and contrasted it with my own wretched state. A strong, almost instinctive thought grew wildly. Money. Power. Status. Only by grasping these would my words matter. So, I reached out to Caleb. He was the only driftwood I could see, the closest one to me as I drowned. What happened next followed naturally. He took me to his unused luxury apartment, listened to my grievances, and built a perfect future for me with expensive gifts and sweet words—a blueprint of happiness where I didn’t need to be excellent, just needed to be by his side to have everything. He said his parents didn’t want a daughter-in-law who was too smart, just virtuous enough. And my parents came to the door with fawning smiles and fruit baskets, praising my ability and vision. I could finally be their “daughter” again, bringing more glory to their faces than Old Wang’s daughter next door. Yes, I love Caleb. I love his money, his face, his family background, and the vanity of being his girlfriend that allowed me to crush my past. To marry him, of course I could give up these worthless grades. However, people who have been abandoned don’t gain a sense of security so easily. The despair of the day I met him was like a thorn, stuck deep in my heart. —I was afraid he would break his promise. Caleb’s world was cold and flashy. His kindness was too perfect, too selfless. His friends all looked at me with pity that said “you’ll be dumped sooner or later.” Behind him, there were whispers that “Xie Ting isn’t worthy.” The speaker might not mean it, but the listener takes it to heart. This fear followed me like a shadow during this seemingly stable year. So, in the late nights when I seemed to have given up, I devoured problem sets on scratch paper again and again, comforting myself with full marks on practice tests that I had a trump card. A card I might not need, but must have. Just like in the exam hall, those subjective questions I left blank were the easiest to fill, and the multiple-choice questions were the easiest to change. Was it worth trading a temporary future for a backer? For me, yes. As long as we married, I could share the family assets. Giving up these four years might get me things I couldn’t get with years of hard work. But if it was traded for a false promise and a result of ridicule… Then it wasn’t worth it. 3 Coming out of the exam hall, I saw Caleb immediately. He leaned against that flashy Porsche, his posture lazy and noble. A few girls passing by wanted to strike up a conversation but were deterred by his distant gaze. Standing next to him was his childhood friend, Zhao Lin. They chatted enthusiastically, completely unaware of me submerged in the crowd. “Awesome, bro! A gentleman isn’t afraid to wait!” Zhao Lin’s face was full of schadenfreude. “Once the admission notices come out, you can completely escape this misery.” I paused. From a short distance, I heard Caleb’s voice. —Unlike usual, with his back to me, his tone was full of contempt. “Soon. Just thinking about not having to act in front of that pretentiously noble face makes me feel comfortable all over.” Zhao Lin asked again: “When the time comes, our Young Master Zhou won’t be reluctant to let go, right?” I held my breath, actually expecting Caleb to hesitate. Unfortunately, Caleb barely thought before saying with disgust: “Her? Besides being a bit smart, how can she compare to Xia? Playing with her is already doing her a favor.” Zhao Lin punched his shoulder: “True, you really went all out for Xu Xia. Who would have thought Young Master Zhou would condescend to transfer to this crappy place for her, and even bite the bullet to coax a nerd? Pretending to be deep, pretending to be a slacker, smiling every day… big sacrifice!” Caleb sneered: “This is nothing. Pei Xiao made this bet with me just to keep me away from Xia. I want to see, after the applications are done, who will have to leave Xia.” …Who is Pei Xiao? And who is Xu Xia? So, those comments were all true. I was a gambling chip in Caleb’s hand, his pastime for the year, never part of his future plans. So that’s how it is. My past efforts were worthless to my parents. Now, my willing sacrifice is still worthless in his eyes. Then who allowed this world to treat me so lightly? The disappeared comments reappeared at this moment. [Holy crap, when did the supporting female arrive? Did she hear everything?] [Didn’t she just erase the answer sheet? The script isn’t written like this!] [Small change, it’s normal for the supporting character to struggle a bit. Can’t make big waves anyway~] [Can she go offline already! I really want to see Xu Xia and Caleb together! No more cold war for the Leopard and Cat!] I took a deep breath and walked towards them. Seeing me, Caleb’s face changed. He quickly signaled Zhao Lin. Zhao Lin understood, shouted an exaggerated “Hi sister-in-law,” and disappeared instantly. Caleb took my favorite lemon tea from the back seat and smoothly took the pencil case from my hand, welcoming me into the car. “Hard work, baby. How was the exam? Tired?” I was a bit dispirited, only answering “It was okay” in a muffled voice. The comments that just flashed by were in my mind. “Good is good. I know our Tingting is the best.” He smiled and rubbed my hair, his actions intimate and natural. However, the next sentence added an imperceptible nervousness. “But, Tingting…” His voice became lighter, softer, with a coaxing tone. “Did you really… change the answers as we agreed? Chose the wrong ones for multiple choice?” My heart sank, but soon I adjusted my mood and nodded. “Mmh, I wrote wrong answers even for the ones I knew.” “Really?” His follow-up question came almost immediately. “Left the essay blank too? Didn’t… couldn’t help writing too much?” [Hahahahaha Examiner Zhou: Please confirm again if the candidate has self-destructed their future.] [She wrote it! She even changed the multiple-choice answers back! (Violent Roar!) Don’t believe her!] [Wait, screenwriter are you there? What is she doing! Can someone give a spoiler??] I looked up, my gaze piercing through the comments, meeting Caleb’s eyes directly. “Of course. You said your parents hope their future daughter-in-law isn’t too sharp, should be docile and virtuous, and too high a degree is bad. And…” I tilted my head slightly, leaning shyly into his arms: “And didn’t you say this gives you a sense of security? Proving I really love you, willing to give up better choices for you, to live an ordinary, stable life with you. I remember it all.” Caleb’s body visibly relaxed, as if relieved of a heavy burden. “I knew you were so understanding. Don’t worry, those diplomas people fight for are nothing. I’ll only give you something better.” Better… mockery? I leaned on him docilely, but my gaze went over his shoulder, lingering on a few new comments. [Can’t take it anymore! This supporting female is so tea (fake/manipulative) ahhhhhhh!] [Caleb, if you keep this up, I’m telling Xu Xia! (Hands on hips)] [Reporting +1! Xu Xia come see your Leopard tricking another cat!] [It’s fine! Once the bet is over, Pei Xiao and Xie Ting can both roll far away!] … Xu Xia… Pei Xiao… In other words, this Caleb who spared no “huge sacrifice” to trick me into failing the college entrance exam is a “love brain” (lovesick fool). A love brain? That makes things easier. 4 For the next two days of exams, I dutifully played my role as the “stupid trophy wife.” Facing Caleb’s every seemingly casual but actually scheming probe— “Tingting, that last big question was hard, right? Did you help writing too much again?” My eyes were clear to the bottom, with just the right amount of innocence and dependence: “You said to leave it blank. I remembered, so I just scribbled a bit.” Tone soft, no flaws. Everything seemed to be advancing steadily in the direction Caleb planned. Except, I saw a name mentioned repeatedly in the comments on the list outside the exam hall. Pei Xiao. Coincidentally, sitting diagonally behind me. If the comments were true, then we “protagonists” and “supporting roles” with names would definitely be arranged in close proximity according to plot needs. So, the female lead Xu Xia must be here too. Following this guess, I quickly found Xu Xia’s name in this building. She was arranged in the same corridor as Caleb’s exam room. The female lead is right next to the male lead. How fitting for the plot. So do those comments that follow like shadows, yet fail to notice my late-night studying, only focus on the main plot line? My gaze fell on Pei Xiao’s name again. The last exam ended. I deliberately slowed down packing my stationery, but my gaze locked onto the figure diagonally behind me who had already stood up. He moved swiftly, stuffing his pencil case into his bag, and strode out of the classroom with the flow of people. I stood up quickly, entering the crowd almost at the same time as him. It was crowded. I had to be very close to keep up. Fortunately, he never looked back, just walking steadily through the noisy crowd, disappearing into the stairwell on the other side of the corridor. I quickened my pace, following him into the stairwell. —The stairwell was empty. Footsteps gone. Even Pei Xiao was gone. Discovered. My heart tightened. I instinctively took a step back, looking around alertly. A voice descended from above. “You’re following me.” I looked up sharply. Pei Xiao stood on the platform of the highest step, looking down at me. “Something up?” “Let’s talk.” I looked up, meeting his gaze without flinching. “About you and Caleb betting on me.” “You’re that city-wide first place?” Pei Xiao raised an eyebrow, sneering. “I’m not interested in talking to a love-struck fool with no willpower.” I curled my lips: “A-B-B-B, C-C-C-A, C-C-A.” Pei Xiao stopped in his tracks. “Should I continue? You know, just out of the exam, I haven’t had time to check the answers.” A brief silence filled the empty stairwell. The mockery in his eyes faded, replaced by interest. “I can make Caleb win,” I issued an invitation to him, “Naturally, I can also make you win.” Just as he was about to speak— “Xiao!” A clear female voice came from upstairs. “Waited for you for so long, so you were here!” Almost forgot, the male and female leads’ exam rooms were upstairs. Xu Xia’s figure soon appeared at the top of the stairs, and behind her, Caleb walked out looking unkind. Seeing Pei Xiao, his face was indifferent. But soon, he noticed me in front of Pei Xiao, and frowned: “Tingting? You know each other?” I looked at Pei Xiao. He shrugged, with no intention of explaining. So I stepped forward, familiarly wrapping my arm around Caleb’s, my voice sweetly cloying: “You’re here? I dropped my pencil case just now, thanks to this student for picking it up for me.” As I spoke, I shook the pencil case in my hand, looking at Pei Xiao sincerely: “Didn’t have time to say it just now, thanks student. Want to grab a meal together? My boyfriend is very rich.” After speaking, I seemed to just notice Xu Xia at the top of the stairs: “Eh? Is this pretty sister your friend?” I deliberately emphasized the word “friend,” leaning half my body onto Caleb. Caleb’s body stiffened noticeably, looking at Xu Xia nervously. Xu Xia didn’t look at me. Her gaze first fell on my hand holding Caleb, then moved straight up to meet Caleb’s eyes: “This is your love-struck girlfriend? Very sweet. Bless you two.” ? Did I provoke you? Before anyone could react, Xu Xia walked down the steps, reached out naturally, and gently hooked Pei Xiao’s pinky: “Xiao, I’m a bit tired. Take me home.” Under Caleb’s visibly green face, Xu Xia led Pei Xiao away from the stairwell holding hands. Passing me, I saw Pei Xiao’s left eye wink imperceptibly. [Holy crap holy crap holy crap! Nuclear level Shura field (love triangle chaos)!!!] [Xu · Niu Gulu · Xia: The arm-link kill! Counterattack!] [Female lead scolded well! This supporting female is tea to the max.] [Pei Xiao: Who am I, where am I? Whatever, I’ll just stand here.] [Why do I suddenly feel Caleb and Xu Xia fighting is also exciting? Love to watch!] [Shura field plot over. Next plot is the reconciliation, right! Leopard and Cat, speak your feelings!] The comments appeared again. Countless curses at me, discussions about the leads, discussions about the next plot. But not a word about the confrontation between me and Pei Xiao before Xu Xia and Caleb appeared. Indeed, the plot has blind spots. This plot blind spot is my free zone.

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It happened the week before my high school graduation. My brother, Leo, was driving me to pick up Mom and Dad from work when we crashed. The only thing worse than the screeching metal was the silence afterward. I sustained a spinal cord injury. I never walked again. The bright, clear future I’d built vanished into the smog of reality, and I fell into the black hole of clinical depression. Every day was an agony. Mom, Evelyn, who never got past community college, didn’t understand the diagnosis. When I hurt myself, she’d just hold me, again and again. “It’s okay, Willow. Mom will always be right here.” Dad, Robert, took on two extra jobs. I barely saw him. “Don’t worry,” he’d promise, his voice rough. “We’re fine on cash. We’ll beat this thing.” Leo stayed by my side constantly. “This is my fault,” he’d whisper, his eyes haunted. “I’ll protect you, always.” Three years. They gave me three years of their lives, anchoring themselves to my pain. I truly believed I was lucky. I thought, one day, I’d stand in the sunshine and tell them, laughing, “I’m better now.” But then came that day. All I did was whisper, “I’m so tired.” Mom just… shattered. “Then die already! I am done with this life!” she screamed. “Our whole lives revolve around you! How are we supposed to fix you? I’m going to end up depressed, too, living like this!” She slammed the door. Leo scrambled after her. The silence they left was deafening. I looked at the kitchen knife I kept by the bed. Death was better. No more trouble for anyone. No more agonizing pain for me. 1 The cold tip dragged across my skin. Blood bloomed instantly. A sharp, searing red. Usually, they’d be here. Mom would hug me, patting my back like when I was small. She always said, Sleep it off, Willow. Everything’s better when you’re sleeping. But she didn’t know that sleep was just another form of torture. I rarely rested well; I was always dreaming. I’d dream I could stand up and walk across the college quad. Or I’d dream my condition mysteriously worsened, and I couldn’t even move my head. I never told her. She couldn’t fix it, and it would only increase her sighing. I was already enough of a headache. Better to spare her the worry. Leo would gently bandage me, careful not to cause any more pain. He even gave up his dream major for me. He was at the top of his class, but he switched to Psychology—just to try and fix me. It was all his guilt. He’d only had his license a few weeks that day. I told him to slow down, and he just grinned, dismissive. “Relax, sis. Your brother’s a pro. Nothing’s going to happen.” The next second: the shriek of the brakes. I haven’t seen that genuine, carefree grin since. I told him a hundred times. “Leo, it was an accident. You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t blame you.” But he’d look at the clean white gauze on my wrist and cry harder than I did. White wasn’t as blinding as red, at least. Thinking that, I slowly closed my eyes. The wet warmth under my wrist spread beneath me. Then it grew cold, making me shiver. Thank goodness I pulled the blanket over me first. It would have been colder otherwise. More importantly, the blanket would hide the mess. Mom was terrified of blood. Every time I hurt myself, she fought to keep her legs from collapsing just so she could hold me. It’s okay. We all told lies, all kept secrets. Mom’s ‘forever’ was just three years. Dad’s ‘money’ was his body failing from exhaustion. Leo’s ‘protection’ had started to thin out last year when he finally got a girlfriend. I forgave them. I hope they can forgive me for the lie I told them last month: “I’m totally cured.” Technically, it wasn’t a total lie. I really did feel better. I just don’t know why, today, that sudden, drowning weight just swallowed me again. Sadness. Exhaustion. I just mentioned it casually. I didn’t want anything else. Just Mom’s hug. Just a moment in her arms, breathing in the scent of her sweater. She always did that without me asking. But today, she screamed and shattered. I understood. She was just worn down, reactive. She wasn’t mad at me. I couldn’t be mad at her. I understood. What did she say? She was going to end up depressed, too. No. I couldn’t let Mom get this disease. It’s more than just a ‘bad mood.’ It’s this—this struggle to breathe. I told myself it was just extreme anxiety triggering a somatic response. Just slow down my breathing. Just calm down. Next second: darkness.

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Chapter 1: The Funeral in White The wedding invitation was embossed on heavy, cream-colored cardstock that felt like cold skin. It read: The Valenti Family requests the honor of your presence at the marriage of Dante Valenti and Joy Miller. But as I sat in the dressing room of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, staring at my reflection in the gilded mirror, I knew what it really was. It was a receipt. A transfer of property. “Stop fidgeting, Joy,” my mother whispered, her hands trembling as she adjusted the lace veil that cost more than her medical treatments for the next five years combined. “You have to look happy. If you look sad, they’ll think we’re ungrateful. And we cannot afford to be ungrateful to the Valentis.” “Ungrateful?” I let out a dry, hollow laugh. The sound died instantly in the heavy velvet drapes of the room. “Mom, Dad sold me. Let’s call it what it is. I am the interest payment on his gambling debts.” My mother froze. She looked at me with eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights. “Your father… he didn’t mean for this to happen. The federal indictment, the frozen assets… Joy, if you don’t do this, they will kill him in prison. And then they will come for me.” I looked at her—frail, terrified, her beauty eaten away by illness and fear. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “I know,” I said, smoothing the silk of the custom Vera Wang gown. It fit perfectly, tailored to within an inch of my life, a beautiful, white straightjacket. “I’m doing it. Just… don’t ask me to smile.” I had a secret, one I hadn’t told anyone. I believed I was cursed. When I was sixteen, my first boyfriend died in a car crash the night after I told him I loved him. My best friend in college was diagnosed with leukemia a week after we swore to be sisters forever. My father, the once-respected Judge Arthur Miller, was caught in a corruption scandal the year I moved back home. I was a cooler. A jinx. A black cat in human form. Maybe, I thought as the heavy oak doors creaked open, maybe I’ll be the curse that finally destroys the Valenti family. The organ music swelled—Wagner’s Bridal Chorus, played with a funereal slowness. I walked down the aisle. The cathedral was cavernous and cold, filled not with friends, but with soldiers. Men in sharp Italian suits with bulges under their jackets that certainly weren’t wallets. They watched me with predatory eyes. And at the altar stood Dante Valenti. He was the Crown Prince of New York’s underworld. The heir apparent. He was terrifyingly beautiful, like a statue carved from ice and obsidian. His hair was jet black, swept back from a face that was all sharp angles and pale skin. He didn’t smile. He watched me approach with a gaze that was void of any emotion—no lust, no pity, just cold calculation. I reached the altar. My hand was placed in his. His skin was freezing. “Dearly beloved,” the priest began, his voice shaking slightly. I looked at Dante. Up close, he looked… sick. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, despite the chill in the church. His pupils were dilated. “Do you, Dante, take this woman…” “I do,” Dante said. His voice was a low rasp, like gravel grinding on steel. “Do you, Joy…” I hesitated. I looked at the stained glass window, at the figure of a martyr. “I do.” Dante leaned in to kiss me. It was part of the show. I expected him to be rough, possessive. Instead, his lips barely brushed mine. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, so low only I could hear. “I’m cold,” I lied. “Get used to it,” Dante murmured, pulling back to look into my eyes. “It’s always cold in my house.” Chapter 2: The House of Vipers The Valenti Estate on Long Island was a fortress disguised as a Gatsby-era mansion. High stone walls topped with razor wire, security cameras blinking in the trees like mechanical owls, and German Shepherds patrolling the perimeter. My life as Mrs. Dante Valenti began in silence. The house was a mausoleum. The floors were marble, the furniture was antique, and the air was thick with tension. I was given the “Blue Suite” in the east wing. Dante slept in the Master Suite in the west wing. Our marriage was, as promised, a transaction. But a transaction implies a balance of power. Here, I had none. I was paraded out for dinners. Every night at 7:00 PM, I was expected to sit at the long dining table. The cast of characters was a nightmare. There was Don Salvatore Valenti, Dante’s father. The “Godfather.” He was old, wheezing, hooked up to a portable oxygen tank, but his eyes were sharp and cruel. And then there was Uncle Luca. Luca Valenti was the Underboss. He was loud, boisterous, and exuded the smell of cigars and violence. He hated Dante. It was an open secret. He believed Dante was too “soft,” too “intellectual” to lead the family business (which was technically “Waste Management Logistics,” but actually involved everything from racketeering to shipping illegal arms). “Look at him,” Luca sneered one night, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork. “He picks at his food like a bird. You need red meat, nephew. Builds strength. That’s why you’re so pale. No blood in your veins.” Dante didn’t look up from his plate. He was pushing a pea around with his knife. “I’m fine, Uncle.” “Fine?” Luca laughed, a booming sound that made the crystal glasses tremble. “You look like a ghost. Maybe marriage is draining you? Or maybe you’re just not built for this life.” Dante dropped his fork. It clattered loudly against the china. “I run the logistics, Luca. The profits are up 15% this quarter. My health is none of your concern.” “Profits are numbers,” Luca leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Power is blood. And you look like you’re running out of it.” I watched this exchange, terrified. I realized then that Dante wasn’t the monster I thought he was. He was the prey. He was surrounded by wolves waiting for him to stumble. And he was stumbling. I noticed it in the second week. I was an insomniac—a side effect of living in a house full of killers. I would wander the hallways at night. The walls of the west wing were thin. Every night, around 3:00 AM, I heard it. Coughing. It wasn’t a normal cough. It was a wet, tearing sound. A sound of lungs struggling for air. It went on for hours. One night, the sound was so violent I thought he was dying. I couldn’t ignore it. I grabbed my silk robe, tied it tight, and walked to his door. I didn’t knock. I pushed it open. The room smelled of copper and sickness. Dante was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over. He was shirtless. His back was lean, the muscles defined but wiry. He was clutching a white handkerchief to his mouth. His shoulders heaved with every spasm. He pulled the cloth away. Even in the moonlight, I could see the dark, crimson stain. “Get out!” he rasped, seeing me in the doorway. He crumpled the handkerchief, trying to hide it. I didn’t leave. My mother’s illness had taught me one thing: fear is useless in the face of pain. I walked to the nightstand, poured a glass of water from the carafe, and walked over to him. “Drink this,” I said, my voice steady. He glared at me. His hair was matted with sweat, his eyes feverish. “I said get out, Joy. You don’t want to see this.” “I’ve seen worse,” I said. “Drink.” He hesitated, his pride warring with his desperation. Finally, he took the glass. His hands were trembling so badly the water sloshed over the rim. He drank greedily. I sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. “What is it?” I asked. “Tuberculosis? Lung cancer?” He laughed, a bitter, wheezing sound. “I wish it was that simple.” He looked at the door, ensuring it was closed, then looked back at me. “Poison.” My blood turned to ice. “What?” “Not a lethal dose,” Dante whispered, wiping his mouth. “Not yet. Just enough to weaken me. Just enough to make me look sick, frail, unfit to lead. Arsenic, maybe. Or thallium. It accumulates in the system.” “Who?” “Take a guess.” I thought of Luca’s sneer at dinner. No blood in your veins. “Why don’t you go to a doctor?” I hissed. “Why don’t you tell your father? Or the police?” “The police?” He looked at me like I was a naive child. “We own the police. And as for my father… in this family, weakness is a capital offense. If my father knows I can’t protect my own food, he’ll replace me. If Luca knows the poison is working, he’ll finish the job. He’ll up the dose and kill me in my sleep.” He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted, broken. “I have to pretend I’m fine,” he said. “I have to hold on until the transition of power is complete. If I show weakness now, I’m dead.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. The ice was gone. There was just a vast, lonely ocean. “You can’t tell anyone, Joy. If Luca knows you know, you’re a liability. He’ll kill you.” “I won’t tell,” I said. “Why?” he scoffed. “You hate me. I bought you.” “Because,” I stood up, tightening my robe. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by your father’s sins.” Chapter 3: The Botanist and the Architect I didn’t just keep his secret. I decided to interfere. Before my life fell apart, I had been a botany student. My mother was an herbalist. I grew up in greenhouses, learning the language of roots and leaves. I knew that for every poison, nature created a counter-measure. I couldn’t take Dante to a hospital without alerting Luca’s spies. But I could control what he consumed. I took over the estate’s neglected kitchen garden. I told the staff it was my “hobby,” a bored trophy wife playing in the dirt. I planted milk thistle to protect the liver. I planted slippery elm to coat the throat. I planted ginger, turmeric, and dandelion root to flush out toxins. Every morning, I woke up at 5:00 AM. I brewed a thermos of tea. It was thick, dark, and smelled like wet earth. I would walk into Dante’s study before he left for the city. “Drink this,” I would say, placing the thermos on his mahogany desk. He would eye it suspiciously. “What is it? Witch’s brew?” “It will help your liver process the heavy metals,” I explained. “And it will soothe the inflammation in your lungs. Drink it all. Every drop.” He would look at me, confusion knitting his brows. “Why are you doing this, Joy?” “Because if you die,” I said pragmatically, “I’m left alone in this house with your Uncle Luca. And I prefer the devil I know.” He smirked. It was the first time I saw a genuine expression on his face. “Fair enough.” He drank it. Over the next three months, a strange, quiet intimacy developed between us. We were co-conspirators in a house of vipers. In public, we were the icy, distant couple. I played the part of the miserable wife; he played the distracted boss. But in the evenings, behind the locked doors of his study, we shed our armor. I discovered that Dante Valenti hated the mob. One night, I found him sketching. I thought he was looking at shipping routes or money laundering schemes. But when I looked closer, I saw lines of grace and light. “Is that… a library?” I asked, looking over his shoulder. He covered the paper quickly, like a boy caught with a dirty magazine. Then, he sighed and moved his hand. It was a beautiful sketch of a modern building, all glass and steel, cantilevered over a cliff. “I wanted to be an architect,” he admitted, tracing the lines with his finger. “I got into Cornell. I had a scholarship.”

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As soon as I walked out of the SAT exam hall, I was dragged into a dark interrogation room by the police. Officers found cheating tools sewn into my clothes. And in a nearby hotel, they arrested the “gunman” (a hired test-taker) who was collaborating with me. The moment the gunman saw me, he identified me as the buyer. He voluntarily confessed to the crime and detailed the financial transactions between us. The evidence was undeniable, and it was broadcast all over the internet. Overnight, I went from being hailed as a genius scholar by the media to a prisoner. My parents tried to appeal but failed. Unable to withstand the cyberbullying, they died tragically at home. Not long after receiving the news of their deaths, I died of a heart attack. Until my last breath, I didn’t understand. I clearly did nothing, so why did all the evidence point to me cheating? When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the eve of the SATs. 1 “Elena, what are you spacing out for? Hurry up and get your ID out to check in.” My best friend Lana’s voice rang in my ear. I shuddered violently. I was in a hotel lobby, and the clock on the wall behind the reception desk showed the date as June 6th. Lana nudged me. “Why are you still spacing out? ID!” The shove finally made me realize I had been reborn. In my past life, because the exam center was too far from home, we were worried about traffic jams on the day of the SATs. So the night before, Lana and I checked into a hotel less than a hundred meters from the exam center. On the last day of the exams, as soon as I walked out, I was arrested for cheating. And the gunman who provided me with answers was hiding in the room I stayed in. “Elena, why are you so slow today? The receptionist is waiting!” Saying that, Lana eagerly reached into my bag to grab my ID. I grabbed her hand. “I’m not staying.” Lana frowned and complained. “Elena, why are you like this? Do you know how much effort I put into booking this hotel?” “No, you have to stay!” I looked at Lana in confusion, puzzled. She usually had a gentle temperament and spoke softly, so why was she being so pushy today? I forced a smile. “Lana, you know I have trouble sleeping in a strange bed. I might stay awake all night in the hotel, which would affect my performance tomorrow.” “So I thought about it and decided to go home. Worst case, I’ll just get up earlier tomorrow. I’m really sorry.” Lana covered her mouth and laughed. “I was just teasing you; you actually took it seriously?” “Then think carefully. Rooms are super hard to book before the SATs. If you cancel now and change your mind later, there won’t be any rooms left.” I nodded, insisting on going home. “Then call an Uber yourself. I’m going to the room to review.” I watched her enter the elevator and hailed a cab. “Driver, to the nearest internet cafe.” 2 Everything in my past life happened too fast, exploding and vanishing like fireworks. Why were cheating tools found on me? Where did the evidence provided by the gunman come from? And who wanted to harm me, and why? These questions were like a fog in my mind. I might never find out the truth in this life, but at least I could avoid this disaster. That is, by not taking the SATs, so I couldn’t go home. I had to go to a place open 24 hours, where I could stay and which had surveillance. An internet cafe was perfect. The driver quickly took me to one. I paid for two consecutive days. After finding a seat, I binge-watched variety shows and dramas. When hungry, I ate instant noodles from the cafe; when sleepy, I slept a bit. But as soon as I fell asleep, images of my past life surfaced, and I’d wake up startled. This repeated until 5 PM on the third day. Just as I closed my eyes. A pop-up appeared on the webpage. [Breaking News: A candidate was caught cheating in the SATs in South City. The suspect has fled the exam center, and police are in hot pursuit!] I had a bad premonition. Just as I was about to click on the pop-up, the computer screen went black. Complaints erupted in the internet cafe. “Admin, what’s going on? Why did the computers go black!” “Sorry everyone, the circuit breaker probably tripped. I’ll go reset it now. Please be patient.” Not long after, sirens wailed outside. 3 Several police officers rushed in and surrounded me. They flashed their badges. “Elena Chen, you run fast. In the blink of an eye, you ran to an internet cafe!” I asked confusedly, “May I ask what this is about?” The officer snapped, “Still playing dumb? You cheated on the SATs, and we’re arresting you!” For a moment, my brain almost lost the ability to think. “Me… cheated?” Amidst my confusion, Lana and my childhood sweetheart boyfriend, Sean, rushed in. Lana panted as she spoke up for me, “Elena couldn’t have cheated. You have to believe in her character. Besides, she’s already been guaranteed admission.” Sean squeezed through the crowd, shielding me. “Yeah, officer, she has no reason to take this risk. Could there be a misunderstanding?” The students who followed them to watch the drama sneered, “Does her innocence depend entirely on your words? If so, why do we need police?” “Exactly! I think you’re accomplices. Suggest arresting them all for investigation.” Lana got anxious. “Elena, explain quickly. I’m dying of anxiety.” Surrounded by noise, my mind went blank. Seeing my silence, Lana’s eyes went from determined to doubtful. “Elena, you didn’t really cheat, did you?” Her voice was small, but loud enough for those around to hear. They started pointing fingers. “Oh my god, cheating on the SATs when checks are so strict these days? Some people really aren’t afraid of death.” “This girl seems to be the top scholar from my friend’s school. I’ve seen her on their honor roll. Tsk tsk, turns out it was all fake!” “Pretending to be smart usually, afraid of being exposed in the SATs, so she risked cheating.” “Heard her parents are master teachers at the school. Even a teacher’s daughter cheated; do her parents have the face to live? They might as well die!” The insults in my ears sent chills down my spine. But clearly, I had been in the internet cafe since last night and never left. How could I be suspected of cheating? My voice trembled involuntarily. “Officer, but I didn’t take the SATs, so how could I cheat?” The officer laughed in anger. “You say you didn’t take the SATs? You really won’t cry until you see the coffin.” “Come back to the station with us; I’ll show you the evidence!” 4 Handcuffs were slapped onto my wrists. I hugged the chair tightly, shouting, “I really didn’t take the SATs. If you don’t believe me, ask the people here, check the surveillance!” “Still making excuses, huh? Fine, I’ll check now, so you can give up hope!” The officer immediately asked the surrounding onlookers. “Can anyone testify that she has been here online since last night and hasn’t left?” I looked at them expectantly. But they all shook their heads. “Officer, we’re here to game. Who pays attention to who’s sitting next to them?” “I just got here. How would I know when she arrived? I have no impression.” “Officer, testifying means going to the station to register, right? Don’t make it hard for us. If my parents find out I sneaked out to game, they’ll skin me alive.” I panicked. “If they can’t testify, there’s surveillance!” The admin ran over apologetically. “Officer, I’m really sorry. Just now, a high-voltage surge burned out the storage device, and all surveillance footage is lost.” I looked at her in disbelief. “Impossible, how could it break so coincidentally? I want to see for myself.” She led me to the monitor. The words “Disk Error” stung my eyes. I asked her like clutching the last straw, “Sister, you registered me last night. Do you remember me?” The admin nodded, then shook her head. “Sorry, I’m face-blind and really can’t remember faces.” At this, I felt like I was in an ice cave, trembling all over. The admin pointed at the small red flower on my clothes. “Didn’t you just rush in from outside? I can’t remember faces, but I remember this red flower on your collar. It’s particularly eye-catching.” I got extremely agitated. “You’re lying! I’ve been sitting in my seat the whole time, nowhere else!” The officer sneered. “Elena Chen, stop quibbling. Your cheating tool is hidden in this eye-catching red flower!” Saying that, he picked up scissors, cut off the red flower, tore it open, and indeed, an electronic device was hidden inside. My eyes widened, utterly shocked. In my past life, an identical electronic device was found in my clothes. This moment seemed to pull me back to my past life. I screamed in terror, “This isn’t mine!” At the same time, Lana screamed, “Elena, isn’t this that?” Sean looked disappointed. “Elena, I can’t believe you would do such a thing.” Seeing their reactions, I seemed to lose all strength instantly. “So you saw me in the exam hall too?” They both nodded. I only saw darkness, and Sean’s hollow, desperate voice rang in my ears. “Elena, your best option now is to confess and seek leniency, understand?” “We’ll take care of your parents 24/7, don’t worry.”

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Ethan promised he’d propose on our fourth anniversary. But this year is our eighth year together. He says he loves me, while aggressively pursuing a junior from his college days. To impress her, he even spent a fortune to snatch away my late mother’s necklace. “Chloe hasn’t seen much of the world, she just really likes this. Let her have it, I’ll make it up to you later.” “Okay.” This time, I didn’t cry or make a scene. Instead, I dialed a number. “Liam, what you said last time… say it again?” He was confused, but repeated, “Dump Ethan. Marry me.” “Okay. I will.” … Liam paused, stunned. We were silent for two whole minutes. “Are you serious?” “Yes.” Liam chuckled deeply. “I’ll be waiting.” 1 “Who are you talking to?” Ethan suddenly hugged me from behind, startling me. I locked my phone and shook my head. “Unhappy? You know Chloe’s background isn’t like yours. Just let her have this one.” “Mmh.” Ethan’s phone vibrated non-stop. He looked down to reply, a gentle smile appearing on his lips. It was a message from Chloe. The photo was the most eye-catching part. My mother’s necklace was around her neck, dipping perfectly into her cleavage. The photo was cropped just right, even showing a hint of her lace lingerie. “Ethan.” He sat on the bed, mesmerizingly staring at the photo. Laughing to himself. Completely ignoring my voice. “Ethan!” I raised my voice, and he snapped his head up. “What’s up?” “When do you plan to propose?” Ethan put away his phone, scratching his head to cover his awkwardness. “Aren’t we… still young?” “Youth is for having fun. Since my wifey was so generous today, the boys are throwing a party to celebrate. Want to come?” Ethan’s eyes told me everything. He was waiting for me to say no. “I…” Ethan suddenly hugged me. “I’ll pass on your regards. You don’t like the smell of alcohol, so just wait for me at home, okay?” I looked down and scoffed. Ethan thought I was agreeing happily. Goal achieved, he didn’t waste another word on me. He turned and left with his phone. As he walked out, I saw him zooming in on that photo. Holding my pajamas, I subconsciously looked at myself in the mirror. Average figure. Average face. Chloe and I are indeed from two different generations. At midnight, one of Ethan’s friends posted an update. A video. Music blaring, the room reeking of debauchery. Several young people cheering on the dance floor. Right when the music paused. I heard a familiar voice. “Zack, I want to propose to Chloe.” It was Ethan. Putting down my phone, I stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Our relationship survived the seven-year itch, but couldn’t survive a single winter. 2 I was about to sleep when I got a text from Ethan’s friend, Zack. Simple: Sis, can you bring some stomach meds? Ethan didn’t have stomach issues. Neither did Zack. From Ethan’s earlier words, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were up to. I didn’t know if Zack calling me was Ethan’s idea. When I got there, I leaned against my car for a long time. Only when my legs went numb did I muster the courage to go in. Seems I really picked the wrong time. Ethan was on one knee. “Chloe, I really love you.” “Chloe, marry me?” “Chloe, I want you.” Love was spilling out of Ethan’s eyes. Chloe stood opposite him, covering her mouth in excitement. She was beautiful, and her shy demeanor was exactly Ethan’s type. “Ethan… I do.” Unknowingly, tears were already on my face. Running down my chin. They were using my mother’s necklace for the proposal. Ethan, you really opened my eyes. The two embraced and kissed under the spotlight. A match made in heaven, how romantic. But, of the dozen people present… Drinking, smoking, playing on phones. No one clapped. Ethan noticed something was off, his face darkening. “Why aren’t you cheering?” His friends all kept their heads down, acting busy. Ethan looked around, a layer of frost in his eyes. “You propose to her, what about Maya?” Ethan licked his lips, patted Zack on the shoulder, and laughed. “Zack, do you know what a heartbeat feels like?” “Maya has been with you for eight years.” “Shh…” Ethan hushed him. “Don’t mention her on such a happy occasion.” “For the past eight years, I was blind, thinking that was love. Only after meeting Chloe did I know what love really is. I want to give her my everything! But Maya?” Ethan looked at his friends, trying to persuade everyone. “Maya is born with a silver spoon, she doesn’t lack love. But Chloe only has me. Do you understand?” “Every time I go home and see Maya’s face, I feel so bored.” “Yes, Maya is great, but she’s not the one I want to marry.” No one responded to Ethan. Everyone smoked, heads down, silent. “Ethan… maybe, forget it, we don’t need cheering…” Crash! Ethan threw a glass. “Cheer!” Usually, when Ethan got angry, everyone would back off. But this time, no one humored him. For a moment, I was dazed too. Eight years ago, none of them were optimistic about us. Seeing me, the spoiled heiress, they never gave me a good face. They even told Ethan to dump me. Eight years flew by, and everyone accepted me as their “sister-in-law.” Only Ethan didn’t. Clap, clap, clap. I clapped three times slowly. All eyes turned to me. Ethan’s pupils shrank, panic setting in. “You, how are you here?” Realizing something, Ethan’s face changed drastically. “Who called her?” I walked up to Ethan, and Chloe blocked him. Arms spread wide, a protective stance. Clearly scared, yet bravely shielding him. This look, any man would fall for it. “Maya sis, it’s all my fault, don’t, don’t blame him…” I reached out and unclasped the necklace from Chloe’s neck. “Ethan, didn’t anyone tell you, proposing with a dead person’s belongings brings bad luck?” 3 “Don’t scare Chloe. Let’s talk at home.” Saying that, Ethan started grabbing his jacket from the sofa. Like he wanted to flee. “Ethan, do I still have a home?” Ethan paused mid-grab, turning back to look at me. He pulled me towards the exit. Chloe tried to follow. But Zack stopped her. In the hallway, the lights were dim. I couldn’t see Ethan’s face clearly. “Chloe is young and immature. Her birthday wish this year was for someone to propose. I drank too much, I wasn’t thinking.” I stayed silent, so Ethan hugged me. Usually, when I was mad, he’d coax and trick me like this. And every time, I forgave him. He breathed hotly on me. “Wifey, don’t be mad.” But he didn’t know. This time, I wouldn’t forgive him. “Then come home with me now.” “Okay! Let’s go home!” Ethan dragged me towards the exit. Chloe was right by the door; I knew she could hear. Three, two… Bang! The door opened, and Chloe collapsed in the hallway. Ethan ran back almost instantly. “Chloe!” “Ethan… I’m fine… is Maya sis angry?” Chloe grabbed a huge bottle of liquor. “I’ll apologize to Maya sis.” Then she tilted her head and chugged. 58-proof liquor, she downed half the bottle in one breath. To gain Ethan’s concern, she really went all out. “Chloe!” Ethan snatched the bottle, heartbroken. “Did Maya sis forgive me?” Ethan turned and roared at me, “Say something!” The man who was cuddling me just moments ago couldn’t pretend anymore seeing Chloe in trouble. “I never blamed you.” Chloe coughed, reaching out to me. “Since Maya sis isn’t mad, can you give the necklace back? That was a gift from Ethan.” I immediately pressed down on my bag. “This is my mom’s legacy.” “But Ethan gave it to me.” “Seems like sis still won’t forgive me.” Saying that, Chloe snatched the bottle back and started chugging again. Ethan was frantic. “Maya! Give it to her!” Ethan rushed over, trying to snatch my bag. “This is my mom’s legacy! Can’t you see she’s doing it on purpose!” Ethan wouldn’t listen to anything, pulling my bag like a mad dog. “Maya, can you stop thinking so dirty of people? Chloe isn’t like you.” “Maya, Chloe is just a little girl, can you stop pushing her?” Ethan was too strong. Even with all my strength, he snatched the bag. I grabbed at it, and Chloe grabbed at it too. Finally, the necklace snapped inch by inch, silver beads bouncing on the floor. I stared dumbfounded at the two silver beads in my hand. Looking up, I saw the smirk on Chloe’s face. Ethan turned and yelled at me, “Maya, haven’t you made enough trouble!” He pinned all the blame on me. He saw through everything, yet couldn’t see through Chloe’s act. Perhaps realizing he went too far. Ethan looked helplessly at the beads on the floor. He touched my head. “S-Sorry, I… I drank too much.” “Tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Chloe was clutching her chest and vomiting violently. Ethan picked her up and ran out. “Tomorrow at noon, I’ll take you to buy a new one, okay?” He ran fast, wind rushing past my ears. I looked at the scattered silver beads and laughed, leaning against the wall. Ethan and I, aren’t we just like these beads? A seemingly whole family, in the end, scattered like sand on the floor. I don’t want the necklace anymore. Ethan, I don’t want you anymore either. I can’t guarantee I’ll forget you completely. But Ethan, I guarantee you will never find me again. “Airline? I want to buy the soonest ticket to South Province.” 4 Hanging up, I went back. The earliest flight was in three days. Back home, I packed everything. Whatever I could take, I took. Whatever I couldn’t, I burned. Our photo albums were all in the bedside drawer. But there was one on Ethan’s desk. He hadn’t been home in a long time; the desk was dusty. But this album was strangely clean. He must flip through it often when he’s bored, right? I took it to burn with the rest. Only to find that inside, interspersed, were photos of him and Chloe. The first time Chloe visited, she praised our photos for being beautiful. Turns out, later they went too. I closed the album and put it back. The wall clock chimed. It was already 5 PM. Ethan broke his promise again. Ding dong. Liam sent a voice message. “I had someone mail the marriage agreement. Just sign it.” I composed myself. Turning around, I found Ethan right behind me. “Who are you chatting with so happily?” I shook my head. Ethan was sweating profusely, soaked through. “Move.” I pushed past him to leave. But a complete necklace appeared before my eyes. It was Mom’s necklace. I held it in my palms, looking up at him. “You… you found them all?” Ethan scratched his head. “Picked them up for ages.” He rubbed his eyes. “Almost went blind looking.” “So you didn’t come back by noon because you were picking up my mom’s necklace?” “What else?” He hugged me gently. “You don’t know how tired I am. Squatting on the floor all day, my back is killing me.” “But still missing two beads. Wifey, you won’t blame me for being late, right?” Holding Mom’s necklace, my vision blurred. Big teardrops fell into my palm. I mumbled indistinctly, “Ethan, thank you…” “What are you saying? You’re my fiancée.” I excitedly went into the room. I knew where the missing two beads were. Rummaging through my bag, I found the three beads from yesterday. I smiled excitedly, but then realized the color of the silver beads in my hand was completely different from the ones in my bag! The one in my hand had oxidation marks too, but different from Mom’s… I squatted on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Ethan, how long are you going to lie to me? What do you take me for? A voice came from outside. “Delivery for Maya Jiang, please sign.” Soon, Ethan came in. Holding a document envelope. Opening it as he walked. “Why is there a document delivery? What is it?” My phone kept buzzing. [Liam: Did you receive the marriage agreement?] I snapped my head up, locking eyes with Ethan.

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Four years out of prison, I got a call to the principal’s office about my daughter getting into a fight. That’s where I ran into my ex-husband. When I rushed in, he was leaning over the kindergarten principal’s desk, an aura of entitlement radiating off him like heat from a bonfire. “I invested in this school to ensure my daughter is protected, not to let others bully her.” He paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “I heard Sloane’s parent did time. Why would you admit a child like that? Aren’t you afraid I’ll shut this place down?” I knew he was fighting for Sierra’s daughter. What he didn’t know was that the little girl currently sobbing herself sick was his own. Watching Sloane, her small eyes red and swollen, her body wracked with little tremors, I couldn’t stand to listen to another word. I walked straight into the office. Our eyes met, and a flash of pure disorientation crossed Preston North’s face. “Gigi? You were released early? Did you… come back for me?” I shook my head, then nodded. “I’m the child’s mother, Mr. North. You can take whatever frustration you have out on me.” The air thickened instantly. He looked utterly flummoxed, his voice catching in his throat. “You… you married and had a child? Is this some kind of revenge?” I froze. There had been no love for him left for a decade, and surprisingly, no hate either. How could it be revenge? 1 My three-year-old saw me and ran, burying her face into my waist. “Mommy, that girl called me a mongrel, so I pushed her.” My right hand wasn’t strong enough. It was a struggle to lift her, but I finally managed to cradle the still-sobbing Sloane. I murmured a few reassurances, then looked back at the man still frozen in shock. “Mr. North, if you are concerned that my past will negatively impact your—your associate’s daughter, I will promptly withdraw Sloane from the school.” My heart ached for the injustice my daughter faced, but I had no desire to fight Preston on a battlefield where the outcome was foregone. Sierra and her daughter were his unshakeable priority; no matter the truth, in his eyes, we would always be in the wrong. Logic was useless here. Preston’s gaze remained glued to us. He opened his mouth several times, trying to speak. It was only when his eyes met my utterly detached expression that his composure returned. He finally spoke, his voice surprisingly quiet. “It’s… just a small squabble between kids. It’s not serious enough for a withdrawal.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, your daughter admitted Skylar started it.” His immediate concession surprised me. It was like he wasn’t the same man who’d been threatening the principal two minutes ago. “Since Mr. North isn’t pursuing this, I’ll take my daughter and leave.” I gave the principal a brief nod and led Sloane out. The knot of tension in my chest loosened a fraction. Thank God Sloane takes after my mother’s side of the family. He suspected nothing. I called a ride-share. Before the car arrived, Preston hurried after us and grabbed my arm. “Gigi, when were you released? Why didn’t you come to me? Did you really marry someone else?” Before I could answer his barrage of questions, his eyes flickered to Sloane’s small, fearful face, and he asked the question that made my blood run cold. “Is this child mine?” My whole body went rigid. I yanked my arm away, my expression ice-cold and distant. “Your imagination is impressive, Mr. North. The year you personally sent me to prison, you never once touched me. How could I possibly be carrying your child?” He seemed to recall that unbearable year, his lips trembling almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry. What happened back then, I…” He was interrupted by a familiar, overly sweet voice. “Oh, Gigi. You’re really out?” Sierra approached. She saw Sloane and her face immediately shifted, a practiced look of shock and pity sliding into place. “Gigi, if you need money, you know you can always come to Preston or me. We would help.” She raised her eyebrows slightly, managing to look both concerned and superior. “How could you do this to yourself? Taking money to be a stepmother for some other man’s child?” My fingers twitched. Her air of looking down on me, of inventing a convenient excuse for Preston, was nothing like the single mother who had once knelt and begged me for a scrap of kindness and work. She had recognized me the moment Sloane was admitted. Of course she had. Why else would her five-year-old daughter wander into Sloane’s class just to bully her? Hearing Sierra’s loaded statement, a sliver of guilt flashed in Preston’s eyes. “Gigi, you don’t have to self-destruct. Even if you made mistakes back then, I’ll help you through any difficulty.” He took a step toward me. “Just divorce him. I can take care of you. Actually, Sierra and I are…” The memory of weeping, begging him to believe me, only for him to coldly hand me over to the authorities, was a shard of glass in my memory. I cut him off. “Mr. North, we are long past having anything to do with one another. Save the pretty words for your associate.” I didn’t look at his suddenly pale face again. I took Sloane’s hand and stepped into the approaching car. From the moment he started systematically destroying my life, I stopped believing him. Back home, Sloane was still anxious. She held my hand tightly and whispered, “Mommy, that man was scary. Is he going to come and catch me?” I tensed, then bent down to comfort her. “Sloane, don’t be scared. He’s not a bad man.” The first version of Preston North hadn’t been a bad man. He was, in fact, a deeply righteous lawyer. It was only after he met Sierra that he reserved his most brutal side for me. Preston and I came from similar backgrounds; our mothers both died young. The difference was that my father genuinely loved my mother, while his mother was beaten to death by his father. Preston was home the day his mother was killed. He watched her die in his arms. The fifteen-year-old boy had desperately begged his father to call for an ambulance, but his drunken father only beat Preston until his face was a bloody mess. By the time my father and I rushed over, Preston was barely conscious. After he was saved, Preston became obsessed with sending his father to the electric chair, infuriating the rest of the North family, who disowned him. His mother was dead, and the killer walked free, protected by the sanctity of marriage. It became Preston’s obsession, the driving force behind his choice to become a lawyer. My heart ached for the boy with nowhere to go, so I brought him home. My dad didn’t object and had the butler prepare the sunniest room for him. I put down my sketchbook and spent every day talking to him until the light returned to his eyes. I remember when he was eighteen, he ran home with his law school acceptance letter and swept me into a hug. “Gigi, I got in! Will you be my girlfriend?” I was happier than he was, tears of laughter streaming down my face. “Yes.” That day, he was so happy he forgot all his worries. He promised my father, right in front of him: “Sir, I’ll take care of Gigi from now on. You can finally relax and go fishing.” My father beamed. Not only did he trust me to Preston, but he even let Preston start managing the family business. Even in his younger years, consumed by his heavy, unresolved past, Preston reserved all his tenderness for me. Even after he became a top-tier divorce lawyer, he would personally make me herbal tea when I had cramps. He even put all his assets in my name. It was a love so intense, but when he took it back, he was just as ruthless. Preston’s real breakthrough came when he successfully sent his abusive father to prison. After that, countless women struggling in bad marriages flocked to his firm. Sierra was one of them. When she knelt before us, still breastfeeding, covered in bruises and holding her month-old baby, both Preston and I were stunned. Before I could speak, Preston helped Sierra and the baby up, his face set in a furious mask. He promised, “I’ll take your case pro bono. I guarantee that scum will be punished.” Preston’s fees were easily in the millions. I was surprised but kept quiet. I knew he was driven by a deep need to prevent Sierra from becoming his mother, and her baby from becoming him—a child who lost his mother too soon. But I never imagined that their path to salvation would be the one that violently kicked me into hell. After Preston won her case, Sierra didn’t leave. Instead, she knocked on our door again. “Gigi, I don’t have a job and I have a child to raise. Could you teach me how to be a designer?” I hesitated, but Preston made the decision for me instantly. “Sierra has a foundation in art. She’ll learn quickly. Just let her stay. You love kids, Gigi. Skylar can keep you company.” Sierra added, her face streaming with tears. “Gigi, I truly want a skill. Please help me.” Something felt off, but as she wept and pleaded so humbly, my heart softened. I not only taught her to sketch design concepts but also brought out my treasured raw gemstones to teach her how to identify them. Seeing her diligence, I asked her to design a piece on her own. Then, she got careless. In a flash, my workspace was engulfed in flames. I was shouting for help while desperately trying to extinguish the fire. “Gigi! Gigi!” Preston rushed in. But when he saw Sierra standing near the back, crying for help, he violently knocked over the heavy supply cabinet next to me, sending it crashing down. I had no time to move. The cabinet slammed onto my right wrist and hand. The blinding, agonizing pain made the world go black. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Preston rush past me, holding Sierra and running out. He didn’t spare me a single glance. I woke up in the hospital to the devastating news that due to the delay in treatment, my right hand would never regain its full function. It was the end of my career as a designer. I broke. I grabbed a glass and hurled it at Preston. “Why did you knock over the cabinet? I’m your wife! Why didn’t you save me first?” His expression was full of shame, but he remained still, letting me vent. Finally, Sierra knelt on the floor and cried, “Gigi, please blame me. I’m pregnant with Preston’s child. He couldn’t bear to see me hurt, that’s why he saved me first.” The atmosphere hung in a thick, impossible silence. I stared, thinking I had misheard. I looked at Preston. Finally, his voice came out hoarse. “Sierra is pregnant.” That’s when I finally understood. While fighting for Sierra, he had fallen for a woman who mirrored his mother’s suffering. When both of us were in danger, he was willing to let me be ruined to be her protector. My damaged hand and his betrayal made me paranoid and sensitive. Preston and I started fighting over the smallest things. Every argument ended the same way, with him looking disgusted and saying: “You’re a complete lunatic. Can’t you be gentle, just like Sierra?” Then he would slam the door and disappear for the night. The only time he returned drunk, he forced himself on me despite my resistance. But when he woke up, he acted as if the night never happened, his attitude returning to cold indifference. He pushed me to the brink of insanity. I was diagnosed with severe depression. Even that wasn’t enough for Sierra. She waited for the day my father returned from his trip and rushed over. In front of my father, she tearfully begged me to release Preston. “Gigi, you have everything. Please stop forcing Preston. He wants to start a new family with me. He wants to be a father. Please, let us be happy.” Her vicious scene sent my father—who had been excitedly waiting to play chess with Preston—into an immediate, paralyzing brain hemorrhage. The memory of my father made the tears flow uncontrollably. Sloane’s worried voice reached my ears. “Mommy, why are you crying?” I stroked her head. “Mommy just misses your grandfather.” Just as I spoke, my phone rang. No name, but I recognized Preston’s number instantly. I hung up without hesitation. A moment later, a text came through. [Your father’s personal effects are still with me. Should I bring them over?] My hands shook. It took me a long time to reply: [I will come and pick them up myself.] My chest felt heavy. After cooking for Sloane and tucking her in, I finally fell asleep. But the scarred memories flooded in like a tidal wave. After my father was rushed to the hospital, he survived, but with severe post-stroke paralysis. He couldn’t move and could barely speak. With red, swollen eyes, I sat by his bedside. He gripped my hand tightly. “Di… vorce. Le… ave him.” I understood. Not every man is faithful to his wife. He couldn’t bear to watch me destroy myself for Preston. After a night of sleepless agonizing, I took the divorce papers to Preston. He sat at his desk, signing a contract, not even looking up. His tone was dismissive and clinical. “I will not divorce you.” He sealed the contract with a stamp. “I’m a divorce lawyer. If I can’t manage my own marriage, how can clients trust me?” He didn’t love me, but he wouldn’t let me go. I snapped. I went into a blinding rage. I smashed everything in his office. It was a wreck, and he just watched me, cold and aloof. When I finally collapsed on the floor, weeping uncontrollably, his expression only softened into pure contempt. “Look at you. You have no dignity left as the wife of Preston North.” My heart ached with fury. He had driven me insane, and then he blamed me for losing my composure. He let me stew until I quieted, then drove me home. He placed me gently on the bed, a fleeting, complicated emotion in his eyes, before his voice hardened again. “Your emotions are unstable. I’ll handle everything regarding your father. You will stay home. Don’t go anywhere.” For the next week, I was a zombie at home. Sierra, however, couldn’t wait. She showed up, heavily pregnant, to gloat. “I have to hand it to you, Gigi.” She tilted her head smugly. “Preston stopped your father’s medication. Your dad stopped breathing, and you’re still here sunbathing?” “What did you say?” I stared at her, horrified. Afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she pulled out a video on her phone. My father lay on the hospital bed, his eyes closed, utterly lifeless. Panic flared. I lunged at Sierra. “What did I ever do to you? Why are you trying to kill my father?” But before I could even touch her, she deliberately slammed her hip into the corner of the heavy wooden table. Blood immediately started to run down her legs. The next second, Preston burst in. Seeing Sierra on the floor, her face contorted in pain, he hauled off and slapped me. “You’ve completely lost your mind! If this child doesn’t make it, I will never forgive you!” The sharp sting of the slap brought me back to reality, yet I was already too far gone. “Preston North, I didn’t touch her, but you and she killed my father! I’d rather die today than let you two get away with this!” I grabbed a fruit knife to stab him, but he threw me down hard. “The nurse just reported your father’s vitals! He was fine! How could he be dead?” I looked back at Sierra and saw a flash of cold malice in her eyes. I’d been set up. But it was too late. Sierra lost the baby. That very night, Preston had me arrested. “I didn’t touch her! You can check the monitor on the balcony!” I clutched his sleeve, pleading. He didn’t listen. Instead, he used all his connections to rapidly secure a conviction against me. When I insisted on an appeal, he casually presented a plea agreement. “Gigi, the entire Harrington Group is under my control. If you don’t plead guilty, your father’s medical bills won’t be covered.” The pain was suffocating. I never imagined that the man who had tears in his eyes putting a ring on my finger, saying he finally married the girl he loved, would use such a vicious means to send me to prison. In despair, I signed the plea. When he slid the divorce papers over, I numbly signed those too. “You caused Sierra to lose her child. I have to compensate her.” A month after my incarceration, Preston finally came to see me. He brought only more devastating news. “Your father, hearing that you were in jail, passed away right there. If you hadn’t been so recklessly hysterical, he wouldn’t have died.” He paused, looking down at me. “Behave yourself. When you get out, I’ll be here to pick you up.” There was no hysteria this time. My world had collapsed into ruins. There was nothing left to hold onto. The shock left my mind fractured and foggy. When I was lucid, I wanted to end it all. I wanted to smash my head against the wall. But the guard saved me. When I awoke, she told me I was three months pregnant. A frantic knocking on the door startled Sloane and me awake. My daughter hid under the covers, trembling. I calmed her down, then got out of bed to open the door. It was Preston North. The moment he saw me, he cut straight to the chase. “Did you really get married?” “Of course.” “Then what is this?” I looked at the documents he held out. As I saw the content, my body went instantly rigid.

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Chapter 1 At the company’s anniversary gala, the newly appointed CEO made her debut. She was stunning. I mean, drop-dead gorgeous. So, naturally, being the idiot I am, I tried to sneak a pic of my hot new boss to send to my boys. Caption: Check out the new boss. Total smoke show. But I got caught in 4K. She snatched my phone, her face like ice. “Focus on the company’s Q3 goals, not your hormones. Get your head out of the gutter.” My face burned so hot I thought I’d set off the sprinklers. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. To salvage whatever was left of my career, I rushed to the CEO’s office right after the party, hoping to explain myself. I knocked, entered, and then froze. There, sitting on her pristine mahogany desk, was a clay figurine. Not just any figurine. It was the goofy, hand-painted one I spent three days making for my online girlfriend’s birthday last week. It even had my initials, S.C., carved into the base. My scalp tingled. The room started spinning. The terrifying new CEO… is my girlfriend of three years. … The realization hit me like a freight train. I stood there, gaping at the woman I’d never met in person but had texted “goodnight” to for over a thousand days. “That figurine…” I stammered. “My boyfriend made it.” Natalie Quinn reached out and gently touched the clay head. Her eyes, usually razor-sharp, softened for a split second. Then, the mask slammed back down. She glared at me. “That’s none of your business. Don’t ask questions above your pay grade.” “Why are you here?” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to look anywhere but at the figurine. “Ms. Quinn, about the photo… I wasn’t being a creep. It’s just… you look exactly like my girlfriend. I couldn’t help it.” Okay, it sounded like a pickup line from hell. But ironically, it was the only honest thing I’d said all day. Natalie scoffed. “Do you think I was born yesterday? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.” “With those leering eyes of yours, I doubt any girl with 20/20 vision would date you.” My face fell. Great. My online girlfriend thinks I’m a creep. I mentally kicked my friend who begged for the photo. I also mentally roasted Natalie. Online, she’s all “UWU” and sweet emojis. In person? She’s a dragon lady. And wait—didn’t she say she was a struggling intern? Since when do interns run Fortune 500 companies? Chapter 2 I walked out of her office and immediately pulled out my phone. I sent a “spanking” sticker to her on our chat app. She replied instantly. Hubby! What’s wrong? Who upset you? 🥺 Through the crack in her office door, I saw Natalie grinning at her phone, feet kicking happily under the desk. The difference between her “CEO Face” and her “Girlfriend Face” was giving me whiplash. I typed back, grinding my teeth: Just got roasted by my female boss. She said no girl would ever want a loser like me. Her phone blew up. WHAT?! How dare she talk to my man like that! 😡 My hubby is literally the best guy on the planet! Your boss needs Lasik! Babe, when we meet up in a few days, I swear I won’t let anyone bully you. Yeah, right. The only person bullying me is you. I’ve been slaving away here for two years, and suddenly my e-girl is signing my paychecks and insulting my face. I was annoyed. Petty, even. I decided to delay our meetup. Let her sweat a bit. Me: I’m slammed with work. Can’t do this month. Her: What?! Her: NOOOO! Babe, I’ve been waiting forever! 😭😭😭 She spammed me with crying cat memes. I ignored them. I was too busy processing the fact that my life had turned into a bad soap opera. Chapter 3 My little ghosting act had consequences. Dire ones. Natalie became a tyrant. The whole office was trembling. Marketing got chewed out. Finance got roasted. And then, the eye of Sauron turned to my department. Because of a typo—a single typo—in a proposal, she dragged my whole team into her office and shredded us verbally. My coworkers looked like they were about to cry. She sat there, looking like the Ice Queen, nothing like the sweet girl who sends me voice notes about her day. Little liar, I muttered under my breath. “Sam, you got something to say?” Damn, she has hearing like a bat. She stared me down. The pressure was suffocating. “No, Ms. Quinn,” I lied through my teeth. “I was just saying how inspiring your leadership is. I’ll cherish this feedback forever.” She raised a brow. “Good.” “You’ve got a glib tongue. Let’s see if your work matches it.” ” since you’re so inspired, redo the entire proposal yourself. I want it on my desk by 5 PM tomorrow.” My jaw dropped. My coworkers looked at me with pure pity. That was a three-person job, and she gave me 24 hours. She was hazing me. Definitely hazing me. I went back to my desk, fuming, and my phone buzzed. Natalie: Hubby, stop ignoring me… I miss you. 🥺 Natalie: I won’t push for the meetup. Just talk to me? Chapter 4 To save my team from further wrath, I decided to take one for the team. Me: Fine. I’ll think about it. The moment I replied, my phone vibrated like a seizure. Natalie: YAY! You’re the best! ❤️ Natalie: Babe, tomorrow is your birthday! Even if we don’t meet, I HAVE to send you your gift. Natalie: You promised you wouldn’t say no this time! Then came a sticker of a bear aggressively kissing a rabbit. For three years, I never gave her my address. I didn’t want her spending money on me, especially since she claimed to be a broke college grad. I didn’t want our relationship to be transactional. But now? She’s a loaded CEO. My moral high ground just evaporated. Plus, if I don’t give her an address, she might fire me out of spite. I sent her the address of the Amazon Hub Locker near my apartment. No way was I giving her my actual unit number. That night, I received a same-day courier package. Inside a sleek, expensive box was a jar filled with hundreds of paper stars, a handwritten letter, and a watch box. The letter smelled like her perfume—the same scent that lingered in her office. Her handwriting was elegant but forceful. Happy Birthday, Hubby! I folded 999 stars because I want us to last forever. I opened the watch box. It was a mechanical watch. Looked fancy. Low-key. Chapter 5 We met five years ago online. She had just gone through a brutal breakup and vented on a forum. I was bored and replied. We talked for a year before making it “official.” I had rules: No video calls, no face reveals, no meetups. I wanted an emotional connection first. Three years. I texted her: Got the gift. Love it. Thanks. Her: Glad you like it! I folded every single star myself! ✨ Her: Oh! Did you find the keychain? I made it! Put it on your bag so I’m always with you! I dug through the packing peanuts and found a clay keychain. It was a little caricature of me. I clipped it to my work bag. Why not? Her: Hubby… are you still mad? Her: You haven’t called me ‘Babe’ or ‘Wifey’ in days… I cringed. Back when I thought she was a broke intern, “Wifey” was easy. Now that I know she signs million-dollar contracts, calling her “Wifey” felt… illegal. I took a deep breath, mentally separated the CEO from the girl, and typed: Baby wifey. Crisis averted. Chapter 6 The next morning, Natalie bought Starbucks for the entire building. The mood lifted instantly. Except for me. I was running on caffeine and hate, grinding out that proposal. I finished it three hours overtime and passed out the second I got home. I woke up to banging on my door. It was the building manager, surrounded by a mountain of boxes. “Sam? These are all for you. The locker was full. They’ve been arriving all night.” I looked at the labels. Same-day delivery. All from her. I opened them. 1982 Lafite Rothschild. Limited Edition Maotai. A box of ginseng worth more than my car. She was love-bombing me with high-end luxury goods because I didn’t reply to her texts for 12 hours. I checked my phone. 100+ unread messages. I quickly explained I was pulling an all-nighter because someone gave me a crazy deadline. It took an hour of texting to calm her down. She promised no more panic-buying. That evening, my supervisor dragged me to a client dinner. This project was vital for Q4, so Natalie was coming too. The client, Mr. Wang, was a notorious drinker. Old school. He didn’t sign contracts until he was wasted. He zeroed in on Natalie immediately. “Ms. Quinn! In this industry, if you don’t drink, you don’t respect me. How are we supposed to do business?” He pushed a glass of baijiu toward her. Natalie looked pale. She hesitated, reaching for the glass. I remembered her text from this morning: Cramps are killing me. Dying. 🩸 Before my brain could stop me, I stood up and snatched the glass from her hand. “She can’t drink today.”

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There was always a bottle of pesticide sitting on our dining table. Paraquat. A restricted herbicide. One sip, and your lungs turn to stone; you suffocate while fully conscious. There is no antidote. My parents would often slam that bottle down in front of me: “If you don’t study hard, you have no future! Are you trying to kill us?” “If you drop out of the top three in your class next exam, your mom and I are splitting this bottle right here!” They tightened the screws, day by day, until the day the SAT scores came out. I was the Valedictorian. Top fifty in the state. And I had a full-ride acceptance letter to an Ivy League university in my hand. That night, the Paraquat on the table was replaced by a bottle of cheap whiskey. Under the dim, flickering bulb of our kitchen, my dad drank half the bottle with a look of immense relief. He even dipped his chopsticks in the booze and fed a few drops to my paralyzed mother. “My girl made it,” they kept muttering, over and over. “My girl is going to be somebody.” I was drowning in the joy of finally escaping this hellhole. I didn’t know Dad had spiked the whiskey with the Paraquat. 1 The hospital hallway was a blur of noise and antiseptic smells. Someone patted my shoulder, eyes full of pity, telling me “sorry for your loss.” But I was still stuck in a state of paralyzed shock. Just the night before, the acceptance letter had arrived. The heavy, cream-colored envelope. It was my golden ticket, the only way I could imagine escaping this suffocating house. For as long as I could remember, my parents were the extreme version of “tiger parents,” but twisted by poverty and tragedy. They were nobodies outside, trampled by society, but at home, they were tyrants. When I was in fifth grade, a sedan hit my mom while she was riding her scooter. The rear wheel crushed her spine. She was paralyzed from the waist down instantly. She stayed in the hospital for three months. No improvement. The doctor hinted that if we didn’t have deep pockets, we should just go home. It was pointless. In the end, we ran out of money. My dad and a few of his construction buddies carried her home on a stretcher. The neighbors pitied me. They thought my mom was coming home to die. She didn’t die. But even though she couldn’t walk or feel her legs, her voice was louder than ever. She would scream at me: “Chloe! Turn me over!” “Chloe! Water!” “Chloe! Carry me to the toilet!” Our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, used to be Mom’s friend back when they worked at the textile mill. But Mrs. Miller’s husband went into sales and made some money. After Mom’s accident, Mrs. Miller loved to visit. She always brought her son, Brian. And she loved to brag. “My Brian won first place in the math league again. I’m telling you, this kid is going places!” “My husband says degrees are everything these days. Look at your Chloe’s grades… she’s not college material. Maybe she should just stay home and take care of you. Save your husband from working himself to death like a dog.” Everyone knew Mrs. Miller’s husband was never home and probably had a second family, but she projected her insecurities onto us. That day, Brian sat on our worn-out sofa eating McNuggets, dropping crumbs everywhere. I didn’t dare talk back to the adults, but the malice inside me was bubbling over. I looked at Brian and mouthed, Fat ass. Tiny dick. Brian had never seen such a vicious look on a girl. He started bawling. Mrs. Miller grabbed him and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. After that, Mom stopped asking me for water during the day. She wouldn’t drink a drop, even if I put the cup to her cracked lips. She refused to use the bathroom until Dad came home from the construction site at night, exhausted and covered in dust, to carry her. That was when their demands on me became singular. Study. Only study. It was singular, and it was suffocating. The summer before middle school, a group of college grads came to my dad’s site. While my dad broke his back in the heat, they stood in the air-conditioned trailer holding blueprints, pointing fingers. That night, Dad drank two shots and spat on the floor, cursing his fate. The next day, I brought home a mediocre report card. I tried to hide it until bedtime. Dad looked at me. A sound like grinding gears came from his throat. He walked out and came back with a bottle of Paraquat. In the sweltering heat of a mid-Atlantic summer, sweat dripped from his dark, sun-baked skin onto the table. He said: “If you don’t get into a top university, your mom and I will drink this right in front of you.” Mom, lying in the dark bedroom, yelled out: “That’s right! If you don’t study, if you lose to that fat kid next door, you can just watch your parents die!” Suddenly, a voice cut through my memory. “Chloe? Do you have any idea why your parents committed suicide?” I wiped the fog from my eyes. It was a policewoman. Why? Why did they do it? I had the acceptance letter. They were proud. Mom had even said, just hours ago, that when I made money, I had to buy her a condo with an elevator so she could see the sun again. She even threatened to drag her useless legs to my campus and make a scene if I wasn’t filial. Parents like that… they don’t just kill themselves. 2 “Chloe, think carefully. What happened in the last few days?” the policewoman asked gently. What happened? I sank into my memories. After the SAT scores came out, relatives we hadn’t seen in years suddenly appeared like vultures. My dad’s two sisters—Aunt Sarah and Aunt Helen—showed up with fruit baskets and red envelopes. “Brother, look at you! So poor, yet you raised such a genius,” Aunt Sarah beamed. Aunt Helen shoved an envelope into my hands. “Chloe is so smart. Ivy League, huh? It really is the Chen family genes. Brother, you were always the smart one.” Then, the pivot. Aunt Helen’s boss, the CEO of Vance Corp, had a son failing high school. Since I was the local Valedictorian, she asked if I could tutor him over the summer. My dad, a man beaten down by life, rubbed his hands nervously. We already had plans. My homeroom teacher knew our situation and got me a gig at a legit tutoring center. They were paying $50 an hour because of my scores. If I worked all summer, I could buy Mom a wheelchair, pay my freshman fees, and maybe get a smartphone. But Mom swept a lamp off the nightstand. Crash. “Helen! Don’t think I don’t know you!” she screamed from the bedroom. “You’re trying to sell my daughter for favors! I wouldn’t have lost my factory job if your mother hadn’t forced me to sign that layoff paperwork to ‘save the family’! I wouldn’t have been on that scooter! You sucked my blood then, and now you want to suck my daughter’s blood?!” “Get out!” Aunt Helen looked embarrassed, mumbling about how the Vance family pays well, but she wouldn’t give a number. Dad stood up, his face dark. “Leave!” They left, heels clicking angrily. But Aunt Helen’s husband was on the verge of being laid off. He needed to suck up to the boss. And then, Vance Corp announced a PR stunt: They would gift a condo to the top scholar in the district. Me. Aunt Sarah’s son was getting married, and his fiancée demanded a house. Aunt Helen leaked the news to Aunt Sarah. The sisters started tagging-teaming us. Two days ago, Aunt Sarah came back with her son and pregnant future daughter-in-law. They knelt at our door, begging to “borrow” the condo. “Brother! My grandson is coming! You can’t leave us to die!” “Uncle, please,” the girl sobbed. While they wailed outside, the FedEx guy delivered my acceptance letter. Aunt Sarah lost it. She pounded on the door. “Chloe will have a degree! She’ll have money! Helen told me the Vance kid will pay $100 an hour for tutoring! Help your family!” Inside, silence. Outside, chaos. Then, Aunt Sarah lowered her voice to a vicious hiss through the crack in the door: “Don’t think I don’t know what your Chloe did that night…” Dad exploded. He threw a plate of peanuts at the door. That night, we sat in the dark to save electricity. Dad smoked his cheap cigarettes, a silhouette of despair. “So…” the policewoman murmured, taking notes. “You suspect your aunts pressured them into suicide?” 3 Click. A camera shutter went off in the hallway. The policewoman jumped up. “No photos! Who let the press in?” She chased the reporter out, but the story was already spinning. A moment later, her phone rang. I overheard her. “What? Someone smashed Sarah and Helen’s windows?” The aunts had gone into hiding. When the police called Aunt Helen, she screamed over the phone. “It’s not my fault! Have you seen their house? That pesticide bottle was always on the table! It’s a miracle they didn’t drink it sooner!” “Guardian? Me? Hell no! Chloe is 18. In the old days, she’d have two kids by now. She doesn’t need a guardian!” I had heard those exact words before. A few days after the scores came out, I was walking home from a tutoring session. I had $100 in my pocket and a frozen durian fruit a parent had given me. It smelled awful, but it was expensive. I wanted my parents to taste it. Aunt Helen intercepted me downstairs. “Chloe,” she smiled, her wrinkles bunching up. “That tutoring gig with the Vance boy? I talked them up. $200 an hour.” $200? I hesitated. “It’s at my house. I’ll pick you up. It’s safe.” She looked down at the frozen fruit in my hand with disgust. “You do this, and you can buy fresh fruit for your parents. Not this frozen garbage.” I don’t know if it was the money or the shame of the fruit, but I went with her. I walked into the bedroom at Aunt Helen’s house. Inside, a boy with bleached blond hair grinned at me. The door locked behind me. That summer night was a blur of neon lights and pain. Like being torn apart by wild dogs. When I woke up, Aunt Helen stuffed five $100 bills into my pocket. “I got you an extra hundred. Keep your mouth shut.” She looked at my pale face and shrugged. “You’re 18. You’d have to face this stuff eventually. He’s rich. You should count yourself lucky. In the old days, girls your age were already mothers.” Back in the present, the policewoman returned with a medical report. She looked troubled. “Chloe… did you know your father had pancreatic cancer? Late stage.” 4 The local news cycle shifted fast. First, it was “Greedy Aunts Drive Genius’s Parents to Suicide.” Then, it became “Selfless Love: Dying Father and Paralyzed Mother Sacrifice Themselves to Not Burden Daughter.” The photo on the screen was old. Dad looked young and strong; Mom was sitting next to him, smiling shyly. Comments flooded in. 【Omg, tears. The dad knew he had cancer and didn’t want to drag his daughter down.】 【This is true parental love. They drank the poison so she could fly free.】 【Am I the only one worried about the girl? She’s barely 18 and totally alone.】 Soon, Vance Corp contacted the school. They wanted to go through with the condo donation and cover my tuition. But I had to show up to the ceremony. My teacher sounded nervous. “Chloe, the money is significant. What do you think?” I was silent for a long time. “I’ll go.” The police issued a statement: Suicide. The stone in my chest settled. That night, I sat on the hard wooden bed where Mom used to lie. The memory of that muddy night came back. I had run home from Aunt Helen’s house. Mom was in a rage. “Where were you?! Out whoring with Brian next door?!” I tried to turn her over. Her bedsores smelled like rot. It was the smell of poverty, a reminder that I couldn’t fight the rich. “Are you deaf?!” She screamed. I cleaned her up. “Mrs. Miller is a bitch! She doesn’t want you to study!” “Chloe, listen to me…” Suddenly, she stopped. Her withered hand grabbed my arm like a claw. “Chloe.” “What is that on your neck?” Dad came home and found Mom trying to slap me, dragging herself half off the bed. He rushed over. “What are you doing?!” Mom was gasping for air, tears streaming down her face. “Ask her! Ask your daughter what she did! Oh god…” They interrogated me. Who was it? I didn’t dare say. But Mom’s tears were hot on my hand. The landline rang. I walked past the urns on the table, past the empty pesticide bottle. It was Aunt Helen. Her voice was hushed, frantic. “Chloe, tell me. Where is Jared Vance? His mother is looking for him. He’s missing! Tell me where he is!”

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