Category: English

My husband planned to throw me to the lions in Africa so he could swallow my $20 million fortune whole. But he never expected that the lions wouldn’t eat me—they actually let me pet their heads! What broke him even more was that the cannibal tribe complained my makeup made me taste “toxic” and refused to eat me, setting their sights on his “premium marbling” instead! In this meticulously planned “black widow” scheme, who is the real prey? 1 That day, my husband, Liam, and I were vacationing up in the rural Midwest when we got separated. He was holding my purse, which had my phone in it. I’m clumsy, easily scared, terrible with directions, have bad eyesight, and tend to speak without thinking. Someone like me without a phone might as well be completely helpless. Liam was practically crying with panic, terrified that I had been kidnapped by human traffickers and would spend the rest of my life trapped in some remote mountain holler. He looked for me for hours and almost called the cops. Right then, he got a call from an unknown number. A gruff voice asked, “Hey buddy, is your wife named Chloe Vance?” Liam was overjoyed and quickly said yes. The next sentence sent chills down his spine. “She’s with me right now. You better hurry.” Liam panicked and begged, “I’ll give you whatever you want! Please, don’t put her in a car without plates, don’t take the backroads without cameras, and whatever you do, don’t traffic her deep into the mountains where there’s no cell service!” The guy on the other end let out a hearty laugh. “Then you better hurry up, or it’ll be too late.” What made him even more miserable was hearing me scream through the phone: “Liam! Where the hell are you?! Hurry up and come get me!” Following the address provided, Liam sprinted over, only to see me surrounded by a group of burly men. He cried, “Baby, are you okay?!” I told him I was fine and that we needed to thank these nice guys. I explained that I was terrified, so I quietly asked the guy next to me, “Excuse me, sir, could I borrow your phone to make a call?” But I couldn’t remember Liam’s number. Fortunately, before we left, he made me memorize it just in case I got lost. His number was easy: 555-0199-01XX. I just couldn’t remember the last two digits. The guys were incredibly helpful, dialing numbers one by one. Seeing this, the other guys joined in to help too. Thank God we tried so many combinations, and we finally got the right one. Liam wanted to treat the guys to dinner, but they said they had to hit the road and didn’t have time. We watched them drive away into the wind. Afterward, I asked Liam if I was smart. He smiled indulgently and said, “Baby, you are so smart. Do you want to go to Africa next month to see the big lions???” 2 Liam’s last plan hit a slight snag. He thought he could leave me in the rural Midwest to get trafficked, pulling off the classic “marry the rich heiress and inherit everything when she ‘disappears’” routine. He didn’t expect me to proactively ask for help, ruining his scheme completely. However, it proved one thing: the rumors about human traffickers in that area were completely false! This time, he arranged a trip to Africa. He wasn’t going to fail again. The plane slowly descended over Africa. Through the window, the endless, sprawling continent came into view. Vast savannas, winding rivers, and faintly visible herds of wild animals. Liam’s heart raced with excitement. He was grinning so hard he could barely suppress it. Once the plane landed, Liam gently shook me awake. I had been sleeping soundly on his shoulder, my breathing steady, my long eyelashes casting a soft shadow on my face. I was beautiful, but the $20 million in my bank account was what truly captivated him. “Baby, we’re here,” he woke me up gently. I rubbed my eyes, groggy. “We’re here? Africa?” He nodded with a smile, his eyes seeming to say: Yes, we’re here. Your final destination. Stepping off the plane, I looked around like a curious child. He followed closely behind, pushing the luggage cart, his eyes scanning the arrivals area intently. To ensure this mission was a success, Liam’s boss had specifically assigned him a partner, posing as a taxi driver. Finally, he spotted him in the crowd—Samuel, an elite hitman of mixed descent. Samuel subtly made a throat-slitting gesture. It was their secret signal. “Baby, our ride is here. Let’s go,” Liam said gently. I gave a small “Oh” and obediently got into the car. As soon as I got in, my chatterbox mode activated, and I started talking to Samuel. When I found out he was a local, I got even more excited and started babbling a bunch of incomprehensible sounds. Both Liam and Samuel froze, asking what language I was speaking. I smiled proudly. “I’m speaking Swahili! I just learned it on the plane! How is it? Is my accent good?” Liam looked completely bewildered and immediately glanced at Samuel. Samuel, living up to his reputation as an elite hitman, reacted instantly. In broken, heavily accented English, he replied, “You… speak very well. But here, we speak English.” I instantly deflated. I was hoping to show off to a local, but it turned out we needed to speak English. My English wasn’t great to begin with. This was a total failure. But Liam was so sweet. He immediately comforted me. “It’s okay, baby! I speak English, and I’m fluent! With me here, don’t worry, you definitely won’t get lost this time!” To make me feel secure, he had me recite my phone number again. “555-0199-01… oh gosh, look at my stupid brain, I forgot the last two digits again.” I opened my mouth in dismay. He looked absolutely ecstatic, continuing to comfort me. “It’s fine, baby! Last time you forgot three digits, this time you only forgot two! You’re already doing so much better!” I smiled shyly. “Am I really that good?” He kissed my forehead, speaking with infinite tenderness: “Yes, you really are amazing!” But honestly, even if I could remember my number, what good would it do? My phone didn’t have an international roaming plan. I couldn’t make a call anyway! What made him even happier was that his boss had booked us a luxury desert tent resort. Upon check-in, the hotel staff repeatedly warned us absolutely not to go outside at night, as there were prides of lions roaming the area. “Oh? Lions at night?” He smiled smugly. He was definitely thinking: This is going to be easier than I thought! Liam turned to me. “Baby, do you want to see the big lions outside the tent tonight?” I nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! I even want to feed them myself!” Finally, he couldn’t hold back a loud laugh. “Feeding the lions is a great idea! You definitely have to do it yourself! You have to get right up close and personal!” 3 However, when he went to find me that night for a late-night snack, he discovered I was completely gone! There was only a single slipper and a few drops of blood on the floor. He was dumbfounded. He hadn’t even prepared to make his move yet! Did I just voluntarily go feed the lions myself??? Liam frantically knocked on Samuel’s door, anxiously asking where I went. Samuel looked equally confused, scratching his head, saying he didn’t know and assumed I had been with Liam the whole time. Liam froze, a suspicion creeping into his mind: Did Samuel go behind my back and make a move early? But Samuel vehemently denied it. As an elite hitman, he valued professional ethics above all else. He would never act without Liam. Liam believed him. If Samuel didn’t even have basic professional courtesy, how could he be ranked as an elite hitman? Liam rushed out of the room, yelling my name into the night: “Chloe! Chloe! Where are you?!” However, the only response was the low, terrifying rumble of a lion pride in the distance. Startled, he immediately jumped back inside the hotel, ran to the front desk, and yelled in his fluent English: “Help! My wife is missing! Help me find her!” The hotel staff panicked immediately. A group of them grabbed stun batons and ran out to start searching. Normally, the outdoor lights at the desert tent resort were kept off at night, but now they were all flipped on, illuminating the campsite as brightly as day. The group began searching the perimeter, but there was absolutely no sign of me. He was in complete hysterics now, screaming: “Chloe! Where are you?! Come out! Chloe!” His shouting woke up the other guests, who began stepping out of their tents. He asked everyone he saw: “Have you seen my wife? She’s 5’5″, has a great figure, very beautiful, but not very smart. Have you seen her?” The guests shook their heads, saying they hadn’t seen me. He continued shouting, his voice echoing across the vast, empty savanna, sounding incredibly tragic. Soon, the local police arrived and joined the search. Hours passed, and still, they found absolutely nothing. By this point, Liam was sobbing uncontrollably, while subtly giving Samuel a look out of the corner of his eye. Samuel discreetly gave him a thumbs-up, praising his incredible acting skills. The group was preparing to call off the search for the night, saying they would resume at daybreak. Before leaving, they comforted him: “Don’t worry, she’s definitely going to be fine.” Liam cried and replied: “Thank you. I’m sure she’s… passed on… fine!” Just as the police were getting into their cars to leave, he pulled out his phone, preparing to report the “success” to his boss. Suddenly, a familiar laugh echoed from the distance. He looked up and was completely dumbfounded—I had appeared! I was covered in sand, my hair was a mess, but I ran over giggling, holding a thick tree branch in my hand, looking like I had just returned from an adventure. “Chloe?!” he yelled in disbelief, looking like he had seen a ghost. I ran up to him, dusted the sand off my clothes, and said cheerfully: “Honey, why are you crying? I just went out to feed the big lions!” “Feed the lions?!” His eyes widened, his voice cracking. “You… how did you feed them?! The lions didn’t bite you?!” I proudly waved the tree branch in my hand. “I used this like a giant cat teaser wand! They were so well-behaved, they even let me pet their heads!” He was completely stunned. His brain was a chaotic mess. This is wrong. This is completely wrong! How could I possibly return completely unscathed from a pride of lions? Right then, Samuel walked over and whispered to him: “Bronze-tier Liam, something isn’t right here. How could the lions possibly let her pet them?” Liam nodded, suspicion taking root in his mind: Did she know about my plan all along? Or… is she not the ‘idiot’ I thought she was? 4 The next day, according to the plan, Samuel drove an open-top safari Jeep to take us out to see the lion prides on the savanna. Liam gave Samuel a questioning look: [This time, it has to be foolproof, right?] Samuel returned the look: [Don’t worry, Bronze-tier Liam. My plan is meticulous.] Liam seemed relieved, putting his arm around me as we admired the beautiful savanna scenery. I leaned against his shoulder, saying excitedly: “Honey, it’s so beautiful here! Look over there, there are so many pretty sheep!” He smiled and nodded. In his head, he was definitely sneering: Yeah, it’s beautiful. Soon, your corpse will be even more beautiful, blending perfectly with nature! The Jeep drove deeper and deeper into the pristine savanna. I asked, sounding a bit worried: “Is it going to be dangerous? I heard there are a lot of wild beasts out here.” He patted my shoulder, comforting me: “Don’t worry. With me here, even if an elephant charges us, we’ll be perfectly fine!” I smiled sweetly. “It’s so good to have you here.” Just then, a herd of antelopes sprinted past in the distance, followed closely by a herd of frantically galloping zebras. Then, several lions appeared in our line of sight, actively hunting. Trailing behind them was a pack of hyenas—often jokingly called the “proctologists of the savanna” for their brutal hunting methods. This was raw, primal nature you only ever see on the Discovery Channel! I started screaming in pure excitement, grabbing Liam and yelling: “Wow! This is so thrilling! Look at that lion, it’s running so fast!” Liam started screaming too, but not because of the lions. He was screaming because several hyenas had surrounded the Jeep, looking up at us. One of them was even trying to jump onto the vehicle. “Samuel! Drive! DRIVE!” he roared like a madman. Samuel frantically tried to start the car, but the engine simply wouldn’t turn over. Sweating profusely, he yelled at me: “Stop screaming! Look down at the car!” I looked down and cheerfully waved my hand. “Hi, little doggies! How are you?” Liam almost passed out, shooting me a vicious glare. More and more hyenas were gathering around. They were baring their teeth, their eyes vicious. They were clearly starving. Just as the first hyena was about to jump onto the Jeep, Samuel finally managed to start the engine and floored it, peeling out of there. Liam slumped back into his seat, patting his chest. “That was close. One second later, and those ‘proctologists’ would have given me an involuntary surgery.” I, on the other hand, wasn’t panicked at all. I was even waving goodbye to the hyenas. “Bye-bye, little doggies! Bye-bye! We’ll come see you again tomorrow!” Once the Jeep was well out of the lion pride’s hunting territory, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief. Samuel was also covered in cold sweat. With an unusually serious expression, he turned to me. “Earlier, you absolutely should not have been screaming while the lions were hunting. It easily attracts other predators.” I rubbed my hands together, looking incredibly pathetic. “I’m sorry… I was just cheering for the zebras to escape, and rooting for the lions to get their meal.” Liam and Samuel exchanged a look. The exact same thought crossed both their minds: What kind of psychotic logic is this woman operating on? Samuel leaned close to Liam’s ear and whispered something. It sounded like he was saying: “When that first hyena was about to jump up, you really should have pushed her out, and then we could have driven off. We’re deep in the savanna, nobody would ever know.” Liam’s face clearly showed shock. He was definitely thinking: He’s right! Why didn’t I think of that?! He looked at Samuel with admiration. Truly worthy of the title Elite Hitman! They communicated with their eyes, deciding to find an opportunity to strike tomorrow. While they were discussing how to execute me tomorrow, I leaned over and asked them cheerfully: “Honey, what are you guys talking about? Are you talking bad about me?” Liam quickly shook his head, forcing a calm expression. “No, no. We were just discussing where to go tomorrow.” I blinked innocently. “Can we go see a primitive indigenous tribe? I heard they’re really cute too!” He and Samuel exchanged a look, wild joy erupting in their hearts: There’s a cannibal tribe deep in this savanna! My heart was erupting with even wilder joy: Yeah, there’s a cannibal tribe deep in this savanna, but who ends up eating who is still up for debate. 5 In the morning, Liam thoughtfully ordered room service for breakfast. I put on a full face of gorgeous makeup and wore a slip dress that exposed most of my back. Then, I ate the entire breakfast until I was completely stuffed. He smiled and nodded, his eyes never leaving me, as if he were admiring a piece of art that was about to be destroyed. “Baby, you look so beautiful today. Come on, eat some more. As much as you want. You’re going to be hungry all day today.” I knew exactly what he meant. He wanted me to expose as much skin as possible so the cannibals would be interested in me. He wanted me to eat a lot so the cannibals would have a full meal. Hahaha, he was so incredibly thoughtful and considerate towards the cannibals! How sweet! In the car, Samuel drove, Liam sat in the passenger seat, and I sat in the back, happily taking in the scenery. Liam kept looking back at me. His eyes held a complex mix of emotions, primarily a twisted sense of joy, as if saying: Goodbye, my dearest wife. The car drove deep into the savanna, wandering aimlessly, before finally parking on a grassy hill. Samuel looked at the map, muttering, “This is right. It should be right here.” Liam leaned over, grumbling, “What’s going on? Weren’t they right here last time?” I stood up, grabbed my binoculars, and looked around. The area was wide open, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. They were getting frustrated and anxious. I decided to give them a helping hand! I pulled a megaphone out of my bag and shouted: “Cannibal tribe, where are you?! I brought you some food! Come out!” Liam and Samuel stared at me in absolute shock. Their faces practically screamed: This bitch really knows how to get things done! Soon, a few tribesmen decorated in body paint appeared in the distance. They stopped a short way away, looking left and right cautiously. “That’s the cannibal tribe!” Samuel whispered, a trace of excitement in his voice. Liam nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up. He could practically see the finish line. We got out of the car. The tribesmen surrounded us, eyeing us with wary suspicion. I cheerfully waved my hand. “Hi! How are you guys?!” Then, they swarmed us. They completely surrounded us and, with extreme “enthusiasm,” escorted us into their village. Liam and Samuel were instantly dumbfounded. Wait, we agreed you were only supposed to eat her! Why are you taking all of us?! I looked excitedly at the thatched huts in the village, pulling out my phone and snapping selfies non-stop. “Wow! Honey, look! A barbecue grill!” “Wow! Honey, look! The cannibals know how to use knives!” “Wow! Honey, look! What are they sprinkling on that? Is that cumin and chili powder?!” Liam looked at me smugly, nodding repeatedly. He was definitely thinking: I’m going to let you experience a live-action roasting very soon. His eyes were sparkling, as if the $20 million was waving right at him. Finally, after a long wait, the tribal chief came out to see us. His eyes constantly scanned between the three of us. When his gaze landed on me, a look of pleasant surprise washed over his face, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed audibly. I felt a bit strange. I quickly turned to Samuel and asked, “What does that mean?” Samuel looked grim. He whispered, “Cannibal tribes prefer to eat young women. Tender skin, soft meat. You’re on your own this time.” I paused, finally realizing: Today, I’m wearing a backless dress. To the cannibals, I’m basically a beautifully packaged premium cut of meat! I instantly panicked and looked at Liam. “Honey, save me!” Liam looked helpless, but he couldn’t completely hide the excitement in his voice. “Baby, I’m so sorry. It’s just the three of us, and they have an entire village. We can’t fight them. Let’s be husband and wife again in our next life! Wuu wuu wuu.” My heart instantly turned to ash. I was doomed. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. Just as I closed my eyes, waiting for death… suddenly, the tribal chief waved his massive hand. I felt my entire body lighten. A sudden, unprecedented sense of relief washed over me. “Huh?” I opened my eyes and realized the cannibals had actually let me go. Instead, they were tying up Liam and Samuel!

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My mom showed up at my door, panicked. My uncle had taken a bad fall and needed thirty thousand dollars for surgery immediately. I rushed her to the nearest ATM to withdraw the cash. But when I looked at the screen, I was dumbfounded. Insufficient funds. The debit card belonged to an account my wife, Chloe, and I set up when we got married. It was our “emergency reserve fund”—strictly for depositing, never for withdrawing. Every month, the second my paycheck hit, I religiously transferred eight thousand dollars into that account. I had done this without fail for exactly five years. Forget thirty thousand. There should have been over four million dollars in there. But right now, the balance was a pathetic $1.03. I called Chloe a dozen times. Not only did she ignore the calls, but she eventually turned her phone off. I had no choice but to borrow the money from a friend. An hour later, she finally texted me back. “Ethan, I was looking at houses with Liam earlier. It was too loud, so I didn’t answer.” “Did you need something?” 1 I swallowed my rising panic and anger, making up a random excuse to brush off her question. Then, I casually asked where she and Liam were looking at houses. She replied: Riverfront Estates. It was a luxury development, averaging over three million dollars a unit. We had gone to see the model homes when they first opened last year. I even wanted to put a down payment on one, but she refused. I didn’t say anything else and ended the conversation. At seven o’clock that evening, Chloe finally walked through the door. A faint scent of men’s cologne drifted into my nose. It was the woody, cedar scent Liam—her childhood best friend—always wore. Our one-year-old son, Leo, was sitting in his high chair, babbling and playing with a spoon. I fed him a bite of steamed egg, looking up at my wife as she took off her coat. “How was house hunting with Liam today?” She paused for a fraction of a second, her face shifting into its usual warm, gentle smile. “It was fine. Liam thinks the layouts at Riverfront Estates are great. Good views, and the price is fair.” “That’s not what you said when we looked at them,” I said, looking down and stirring the soup in my bowl. “You said it was too far from the city center, the amenities weren’t built yet, and it wasn’t worth the price tag.” “That was then. The area has developed a lot since last year. I heard the subway extension is opening next year.” She sat down, picked up a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks, and naturally changed the subject. “By the way, why were you calling me so frantically this afternoon? I couldn’t hear you clearly.” “It was nothing. Just a minor issue with my mom’s side of the family. It’s already handled.” She gave a soft “Oh,” and didn’t press further. Leo started slapping the table with his little hands, demanding water. Chloe got up to grab his sippy cup, coaxing him in a soft, sweet voice. I watched her back. Her long hair was pinned up loosely, and her cream-colored loungewear made her silhouette look incredibly gentle. We dated for three years and had been married for five. After eight years, I thought I knew the woman sleeping next to me inside and out. Until this afternoon. That glaring balance on the ATM screen felt like a brutal slap across my face. “By the way,” I put my chopsticks down, speaking as if the thought had just crossed my mind. “I’m thinking about trading in the old Volkswagen. I’ve got my eye on a new BMW, it’s around sixty thousand. What do you think?” Chloe’s hand, holding the sippy cup, stopped moving. She turned her head, her brow slightly furrowed. “Why do you suddenly want a new car? You’ve only had that one for eight years.” “It’s getting old, and the space is tight. When we take the kid camping, we can’t fit all the gear.” “But sixty thousand is so expensive…” She set the cup down and sat back in her chair. “If you buy a new car, won’t that put too much financial pressure on us?” “Our monthly living expenses are already pretty high.” “A car is a depreciating asset. The moment you drive it off the lot, it loses value.” “Plus, you’ve kept that Volkswagen in great condition. It can easily run for another few years. There’s no need to buy a luxury car just to show off…” She listed her reasons one by one. Her logic was clear, her tone earnest and sincere. The perfect picture of a frugal, forward-thinking wife putting her family first. Over the past five years, I had heard these exact words countless times. I had always felt grateful—even guilty—for having a wife so practical and devoted to our family’s future. But hearing them now felt like fine needles being driven relentlessly into my heart. I stayed silent, offering no rebuttal, and just kept eating. After washing the dishes, Leo was getting sleepy, rubbing his eyes while leaning against Chloe. “I’m going to give him a bath and put him to bed.” She picked up our son and walked toward the bathroom. On the coffee table, the screen of her phone was still lit up. I walked over, picked it up, and quickly opened her banking app, pulling up the transaction history. Row after row of transfers filled the screen. 2 The recipient’s full name was partially asterisked out, but the last four digits of the account number were crystal clear. It was the exact same account every time. The frequency of the transfers was staggering. Multiple transactions a month. Some were for thirty or fifty thousand. Some were over a hundred thousand. The largest single transfer? Five hundred thousand dollars. It happened today. Holding my breath, I scrolled all the way to the bottom to find the very first record. March 15th of this year. A transfer for fifty thousand dollars. Liam had posted a photo of himself at the airport on Facebook, announcing his return from Europe. The date on the post was March 14th. Late that night, I lay in bed, completely unable to sleep. Beside me, Chloe’s breathing was steady. She was fast asleep. I stared at her quietly, feeling a bone-chilling unfamiliarity toward the face next to me. Five years ago, on a night just like this. We had just gotten our marriage license. She brought up the idea of a reserve fund with utter seriousness. “Ethan, we need to plan for our future.” “We’re going to have kids, and our parents are going to get older.” “This money is strictly for saving, never for spending. It will be our safety net.” I was so moved back then. I thought I had found the perfect partner. For the next five years, the moment I got paid, I transferred eight thousand dollars into that account, leaving myself with barely enough to survive on. To save money, I quit smoking cold turkey after a decade. I declined every social invitation that cost money. I wore my clothes and shoes until they were practically falling apart. Whenever my coworkers showed off their new cars or watches, I just smiled. In my mind, I thought about the steadily growing number in that bank account, and I felt it was all worth it. That was my investment in our future. My commitment to our family. I never in my wildest nightmares imagined this would be the result. Five years. Sixty months. Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Turned into $1.03. Suddenly, a flood of memories from the past few years rushed into my mind. Chloe was always so supportive of my frugality. When I wanted to take her out for a nice dinner, she said cooking at home was healthier. When I wanted to buy her a nice winter coat, she said it was a waste of money. Back then, I just thought she was sensible and good at managing a household. Now I understood. It was all a performance to make me more willing to dump money into that account. And what about her? Her skincare products were always high-end luxury brands. Her clothes looked simple, but the fabric and tailoring screamed expensive. I used to think her parents occasionally subsidized her, or that she bought them with her own meager salary. Looking back, I was certain my four hundred and eighty thousand had heavily subsidized her pristine, elegant lifestyle. The most pathetic part? I had actually felt guilty about it. I felt guilty that she married me and didn’t get to live a luxurious life. I felt I was holding her back. I walked out to the balcony, leaned against the railing, and lit a cigarette. My first cigarette in five years. The next day was Saturday. When Chloe woke up, I had already made breakfast. “Why are you up so early today?” She looked a bit surprised, rubbing her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.” I placed fried eggs and milk on the table. “Leo isn’t awake yet, let him sleep a bit longer.” She sat down, took a bite of toast, and started scrolling through the news on her phone, just like any other normal day. Her demeanor was perfectly natural. Not a single trace of guilt. I watched her quietly, then suddenly spoke: “Did Liam get enough money together for his house?” “Why are you asking about that?” She smiled, put her phone down, and took a sip of milk, pretending to be totally unbothered. “Just curious. Riverfront Estates isn’t cheap. He just moved back to the States this year, where did he get that kind of cash?” “His family is helping him out, and he has some savings of his own.” She answered immediately. It sounded rehearsed. “Is that right?” I looked down, cutting my eggs. “I heard the down payment for the smallest unit over there is over a million. His family can really afford that?” Chloe fell silent for a few seconds. “Liam studied abroad, he has a great career. Buying a house isn’t a huge problem for him.” “You eat first, I’m going to go check on Leo.” I watched her retreating back, noticing the slight panic in her hurried steps. My heart sank into a lightless abyss. I picked up my phone and sent a text to a friend: “Hey, you around? I need you to look into something for me.” Five days later was my father-in-law’s birthday. The driveway of the Miller family home was packed with cars. Carrying bags of loose-leaf tea and health supplements, I looked entirely out of place amidst the lively, well-dressed crowd. Every time someone from the Miller family looked at me, there was a faint, unmistakable trace of contempt in their eyes. I grew up in a rural, working-class town. After getting into a good university, I stayed in the city, working my way up the corporate ladder to become a Project Manager. But to this family, the only thing they saw was my background. When I first wanted to marry Chloe, the Millers violently opposed it. Her mother explicitly called me a “country bumpkin” who wasn’t worthy of her daughter. Her father didn’t say much, but his attitude was freezing cold. In the end, it was Chloe who insisted, and since my income was actually quite good, they reluctantly agreed. Five years later, nothing had changed. 3 From the kitchen, Chloe’s mother’s voice rang out: “Chloe, when is Liam getting here? I specifically called him and told him he absolutely had to come today.” “Don’t worry, Mom. He said he’s coming.” Chloe replied. I walked out to the backyard and lit a cigarette. I was already halfway through the pack I bought yesterday. “Hey brother-in-law, why are you out here all alone?” Chloe’s younger brother, Jake, strolled over. His tone was flippant. I told him I was just getting some fresh air. He chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, man. Our family is just like that. Honestly, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.” It sounded like comfort, but the dismissive look in his eyes couldn’t be hidden. By 11:30 AM, all the guests had arrived. Two large, round dining tables were set up in the living room. My father-in-law sat at the head of the main table. I was seated at the secondary table, shoved in with some distant relatives. Just as we were about to start eating, the sound of an engine pulled into the driveway. Everyone looked up. A brand new, gleaming black Mercedes parked by the front gate. Liam stepped out of the driver’s seat. He was wearing a sharply tailored suit and holding several high-end gift bags. My mother-in-law’s eyes lit up instantly. She practically sprinted to the door. “Liam! You’re here! Come in, come in!” Chloe stood up from her seat, the corners of her mouth curling up unconsciously. I saw it clearly. Her eyes were shining. Liam politely greeted everyone, handing out expensive gifts. Premium imported liquor for my father-in-law. A designer silk scarf for my mother-in-law. The newest iPhone for Jake. He even brought a massive, incredibly expensive Lego set for my son, Leo. “Liam, you are too kind! You really shouldn’t have!” The family couldn’t stop smiling as they accepted the gifts. In stark contrast, the tea and supplements I had placed in the corner looked pathetic and embarrassing. Liam was seated at the main table, right next to my father-in-law. I sat at the secondary table, watching them laugh and chat from a few chairs away. Chloe sat diagonally across from Liam. They would occasionally make eye contact, then quickly look away. Just like every other family gathering over the past few years. Maintaining the perfect, appropriate distance. That was exactly why I was completely blind to it until today. The feast began. Dish after dish was served, and the table grew loud and festive. I ate in silence, listening to their conversation. “Liam, this car is gorgeous. Brand new?” Chloe’s older cousin suddenly asked. Liam smiled modestly. “Just drove it off the lot. It was only about fifty grand. Nothing special.” “Fifty grand and you say it’s nothing special?” My mother-in-law raised her voice intentionally. “Someone here is still driving a cheap, thirteen-thousand-dollar piece of junk. What has it been, eight, nine years?” “And he still can’t afford to upgrade. Pathetic.” The table went completely quiet for a second. My father-in-law cleared his throat. “Let’s just eat.” But my mother-in-law clearly had no intention of stopping. “If you ask me, a man needs to be capable.” “Look at Liam. He hasn’t even been back in the country for a year, and he’s already bought a car and is looking at houses.” “But some people have absolutely zero ambition.” “I guess this is as good as his life is ever going to get.” Chloe whispered, “Mom, please stop.” “Did I say something wrong?” My mother-in-law shot a glare in my direction. “I didn’t approve of this marriage from day one. He’s from the country, how broad could his horizons possibly be? If you hadn’t been so blindly stubborn about marrying him, I never would have agreed!” Liam smiled, playing the peacemaker. “Mrs. Miller, Ethan actually works very hard.” “What’s the point of working hard? Look at the garbage he bought for us.” She shook her head. “Embarrassing.” The other relatives at the table chimed in, looking at me with thinly veiled contempt. I didn’t say a word. I just kept eating. Liam, probably riding the high of the compliments, brought up his house hunting. “Mrs. Miller, actually, I already put down the deposit for Riverfront Estates. The down payment went through yesterday. I’m just waiting to sign the final paperwork.” Someone asked how much the down payment was. “A hundred and eighty thousand,” Liam answered smugly. “My family helped out a bit, and I used some of my own savings.” My mother-in-law’s eyes sparkled again. “Look at that! That is what you call a successful man!” “Unlike some people, living in a cramped, old apartment, driving a cheap beater, and acting like they’re doing great.” She stared directly at me. “If I had known things would turn out like this, I would have stopped Chloe from marrying you at all costs.” “A bumpkin is a bumpkin. You can’t polish a turd!” Everyone at the tables turned to look at me. Chloe’s face looked terrible. “Mom, I said stop.” 4 My father-in-law finally spoke up again. “Enough. It’s my birthday today. Let’s keep the peace.” I put down my chopsticks. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood up. My mother-in-law sneered, “What? Can’t handle a little criticism?” “Are you throwing a tantrum?” I looked at her, then I looked at Chloe. She avoided my eyes, staring down and fidgeting with her napkin. Liam stood up. “Ethan, Mrs. Miller is just blunt. Don’t take it personally.” “I’m not taking it personally.” I looked at my father-in-law. “Dad. Happy birthday.” He nodded, his expression complex. I took a deep breath. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone in the room to hear perfectly: “Since we’re all gathered here today, I’d like to make an announcement.” “I’ve made a decision. Chloe and I are getting a divorce.” The words struck the room like a bomb. Everyone froze. After a moment of absolute shock, Chloe jumped out of her chair. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?!” “I haven’t lost my mind.” I looked at her with dead calm eyes. “I am completely serious. I am divorcing you.” “And the reason? Just because my mom criticized you?” “The reason?” I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket, pulled out a thick manila envelope, extracted a stack of printed papers, and tossed them onto the glass lazy Susan in the middle of the main table. “Before we get to that, I want you to answer a question for me. For the past five years, I have religiously deposited eight thousand dollars every single month into our ‘Emergency Reserve’ account. A total of four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Where is that money now?” The glass tray slowly spun, displaying the printed pages to the Miller family. It was a dense log of banking transactions. Dates, exact amounts, and the last four digits of the receiving account. Chloe froze in place, staring at the stack of papers, her lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line. The Miller family was dead silent, looking at each other in confusion. “You don’t want to say it? Fine, I’ll say it.” I glanced at Liam, who was equally paralyzed, and pulled out my phone, opening the investigation report my friend had sent me. “Starting from March of this year. Not even eight months.” “The funds transferred out of our joint account went to a recipient with account number ending in 8347. The account holder’s name is Liam Vance.” “There are exactly forty-seven transfers. The total amount is four hundred and sixty-eight thousand, seven hundred and thirty dollars.” “March 20th. Five thousand dollars. For Mr. Vance to buy a new wardrobe after moving back from Europe.” “May 7th. Twelve thousand dollars. Mr. Vance’s annual membership fee for an exclusive country club.” “From July to present, two fixed transfers a month totaling thirty thousand dollars. Used to pay off a car loan.” “Oh, right. The loan for that shiny new Mercedes parked out front.” “Last Friday. A single wire of fifty thousand dollars, transferred directly to the developer’s escrow account for Riverfront Estates. The memo line says ‘Deposit’.” “And these… these correspond to charges at several luxury hotels in the city.” “Do I need to read the hotel names and the exact dates you two checked into the rooms?” With every transaction I read, another layer of color drained from Chloe’s face. Liam tried to shrink away from the stares of the room, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The expressions of the Miller family shifted from shock, to confusion, to absolute, humiliating horror. My mother-in-law opened her mouth, seemingly trying to interrupt me, but no sound came out. “Oh, almost forgot.” I put my phone away and looked at Chloe. “That new coat you’re wearing? Bought it last month. Two thousand, eight hundred dollars.” “That limited-edition skincare set on your vanity? Twelve hundred.” “Both paid for using the secondary debit card linked to that account. I pulled the transaction history.” Chloe’s body was trembling visibly. She finally managed to speak, her voice completely dry. “You hired someone to investigate me?” “If I didn’t, how would I have known that the nest egg I spent five years bleeding myself dry to save had become someone else’s personal slush fund? And that it was secretly financing my wife’s luxurious lifestyle… and…” I paused, my gaze slicing toward Liam, “her affair.” “ENOUGH!” Chloe shrieked, interrupting me. Her chest was heaving violently, her face flushed red with panic and rage. “Ethan, you’re just saying all this because you want a divorce, right?!” “Fine! I agree! We’ll divorce!” “We split the assets fifty-fifty, but I get full custody of Leo!” I, the man who had obeyed her every command for five years, laughed. “Fifty-fifty? Keep dreaming.” “My terms are simple. You leave with absolutely nothing.” “And that four hundred and eighty thousand dollars? You will pay me back every single cent.” “You’re out of your fucking mind!” Jake finally lost it. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up, pointing directly at my nose, screaming. “Ethan! Who the hell do you think you are?! What gives you the right to make my sister leave with nothing?!” “Even if she cheated, that money is marital property!” I pulled the final piece of paper out of the envelope and gently placed it on the table. It was the conclusion page of a DNA paternity test. I spoke slowly, my voice dripping with ice. “Because of this.” “Chloe didn’t just commit adultery and drain our accounts. She had another man’s baby.” “I am not Leo’s biological father!”

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I woke from the haze of anesthesia, a dull ache in my side from the appendectomy, to a far sharper pain: the emptiness in my womb. My baby was gone. Zoe, Sebastian’s childhood friend, was giggling beside my bed. “Hey, Cass,” she chirped, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I took care of that little problem in your belly for you. You’re welcome.” I saw red. I grabbed my phone and called the police, reporting her to the state medical board, my voice shaking with rage. But before anything could happen, Sebastian burst in, rushing straight from his office. He swept Zoe into his arms, shielding her as if I were the threat. “That’s enough,” he snapped at me. “She was just messing with you. If the kid’s gone, it’s gone.” His voice was cold, dismissive. “You’re going to ruin her career over a joke?” Every complaint I made was intercepted and buried. Three days later, I was readmitted to the hospital with a raging infection. The cause? A used condom they found inside me. Zoe pouted, the picture of innocence. “Oops. I guess I must have forgotten to take it out during the procedure. But hey, you’re fine, right?” Sebastian’s voice was a low warning. “Stop it, Cassandra. Zoe is just starting her residency. Don’t be so hard on her.” 1 Staring at Zoe’s triumphant smirk from behind Sebastian’s shoulder, a bitter irony choked me. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, stealing the air from my lungs. “A condom in the operating room? How does that happen? She did this on purpose!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Sebastian, don’t you understand? That baby was—” He cut me off, his patience already gone. His brow furrowed, his disgust for me plain on his face. “She’s always been a little wild. Can’t you just cut her some slack?” “It’s better that the baby is gone anyway,” he continued, his words like shards of ice. “She only did it because she was afraid people would laugh at me. Drop it, Cassandra. My patience has a limit.” He fixed me with a look so cold it chilled me to the bone. Three months ago, Zoe and I were kidnapped together by one of his business rivals. Sebastian came alone, a hero storming the gates. But he only saved Zoe. I was left behind in that abandoned factory. The police didn’t find me for three days. When they did, Sebastian held me, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Cass. Zoe… she was kidnapped as a child. I couldn’t let her go through that again. The trauma would have broken her.” Later, when I found out I was pregnant, he refused to believe the child was his. I threw the paternity test results in his face. He didn’t even glance at them, just rubbed his temples with a look of weary resignation. “It doesn’t matter whose baby it is. I’ll raise it as my own. You don’t have to bribe a doctor and fake these results to convince me.” His voice dropped lower. “Zoe told me everything… what you did to survive in there, seducing those men. I don’t blame you, Cass… but can we please just never speak of this again?” I screamed, I cried, I dragged Zoe in front of him and called her a liar. But Sebastian wouldn’t believe me. He accused me of trying to humiliate her. A wave of nausea and grief rose in my throat. I looked at him, really looked at him, one last time. “That baby was yours, Sebastian. I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” For a flicker of a second, he hesitated. “The baby…” he began, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. But Zoe seized the moment. She dropped to her knees before me, bowing her head in a frantic, desperate display of remorse. “You’re right, Cass, I’m a liar! Just say I’m a liar, as long as you and Seb can be happy together.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken matters into my own hands.” Then, turning her tear-streaked face to Sebastian, she sobbed, “Seb, it was me. I lied to you. Nothing happened to Cass in that factory. Those men never touched her. It’s all my fault. Please, you two, don’t fight because of me…” “I’ll quit my job. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll go to jail…” She put on a masterful performance, but not a single tear fell. It was enough for Sebastian. He was completely undone. He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the world. “This has nothing to do with you,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You’ve been in surgery for hours. You’re exhausted. Let me take you home.” “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice full of a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in months. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Then, he turned his gaze back to me, and it was glacial. “Enough of this, Cassandra. Are you trying to weaponize Zoe’s guilt? Trying to pressure me by pinning this baby on me?” he snarled. “I don’t care if it wasn’t mine, and even if it was, it’s gone now. So it’s over.” “You push this any further,” he warned, his voice a deadly whisper, “and I will teach you a lesson in obedience myself.” He walked away with Zoe in his arms and never looked back. I stood there, frozen, as a deep, unshakable chill seeped into my bones, making my whole body tremble. We had been together for seven years. He had always showered me with affection, given me anything I wanted. But ever since Zoe returned from overseas, it was like she had methodically replaced me, piece by piece. My word meant nothing. My pain meant nothing. Fresh from surgery, abandoned and standing in a hospital corridor, I was worth less than one of Zoe’s fake tears. This was the eighteenth time he had chosen her over me. I was done being the one who had to bend. I was done making myself small. The last of the anesthetic wore off, and my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the cold linoleum floor. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled out my phone and dialed my father’s number. “Dad,” I said, my voice low and steady. “I need some of your men.” “Tonight. And I need two doctors.” If Sebastian wouldn’t deal with Zoe, then I would deal with them both. My way. 2 That night, with the resources my father provided, I leaked all the evidence of Zoe’s malpractice onto the internet. Sebastian could pull strings with the hospital board, but he couldn’t control the tidal wave of public opinion. I was lying in my new private room when the door was kicked open. Zoe stormed in, her face a mask of fury. “Cassandra, you bitch! What the hell did you post online?!” With Sebastian gone, her sweet facade had vanished completely. I gave a subtle nod to the men standing guard behind me. My father’s people were efficient and sharp; a single look was all they needed. In seconds, they had Zoe restrained, her arms pinned behind her back. But there was no panic in her eyes. She looked at me with smug confidence, a defiant smirk playing on her lips. “What’s this, Cassandra? Putting on a big show? You don’t have the guts to touch me.” “You lay a single finger on me today, and I’ll have Sebastian divorce you tomorrow.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you really think you won his heart? If his grandfather hadn’t been so dead-set against us, you never would have married into the Blackwood family. You were just a pawn, Cass. A way for him to declare war on the old man. You really think he loves you?” The blood drained from my face. My heart stuttered, each beat a sharp, tearing pain. It was true. When Sebastian and I first got together, his grandfather had been my biggest obstacle. Sebastian, who had always been the dutiful grandson, started publicly defying him, bringing me to every event. It was an open declaration of war. I had asked him once if he regretted it. His expression was complicated, filled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. It was like he was looking through me, at someone else entirely. He sighed, then gently stroked my hair. “Cass,” he said softly, “I just… I don’t want to have any more regrets. So this time, I’m going to protect you.” I was so lost in love back then that I never questioned the “more” in his sentence. I never realized what he meant by “this time.” He wasn’t protecting me. He was re-living a battle he’d lost before. On me, he was making up for the regret of letting Zoe go all those years ago. A wave of violent nausea churned in my stomach, threatening to erupt. Seeing my face turn ashen, Zoe’s eyes lit up with malicious glee. “Get the hint and get out of the picture. I’ve seen women like you before, gold-diggers clinging to what they can’t have. Why do you think Sebastian let me get rid of your baby? Don’t you get it? A trashy woman like you isn’t worthy of carrying his child.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “And by the way, you should thank me. When you were kidnapped, Sebastian was perfectly fine leaving you there to die. If I hadn’t been worried about a murder charge and pushed him to call the police, you’d still be rotting in that factory.” Her last words incinerated the last shred of my composure. An endless, searing hatred erupted inside me, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp pain a momentary anchor to reality. “I will give you exactly what you want,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “But that child was innocent. You picked the wrong person to mess with, Zoe.” I rose from the bed and walked slowly toward her. I grabbed her chin, my fingers digging into her skin. “Since this mouth of yours loves to run, let’s sew it shut.” Zoe’s arrogance finally shattered. Panic flared in her eyes. She began to struggle violently. “You wouldn’t dare! You’re nothing but an orphan! Sebastian will destroy you for this!” I laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “That’s right. I’m an orphan. Does that mean I’m supposed to just let you walk all over me?” After my father cheated on my mother, I decided she was the only family I had. When she passed, I was truly alone. My father was a terrible husband, but he retained a sliver of paternal instinct. When I started dating Sebastian, he called me secretly, offering to use his influence to smooth things over with the Blackwood patriarch. I refused. Ironic that now, in the end, I had to rely on his power after all. I was done talking. The two doctors my father sent stepped forward. One threaded a needle. Crimson bloomed on Zoe’s white dress as the needle pierced her lip. Her agonized screams devolved into muffled, desperate whimpers. I had my men lock her in an empty operating room. “You spent four hours on my ‘surgery,’” I told her through the door. “I’m giving you double.” “Crank the AC down to freezing. Don’t let her out until eight hours have passed.”

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My best friend and James Sterling had been sworn enemies for twenty years, constantly bickering whenever they met. He was a special forces captain; she was the accompanying medic. The only thing they agreed on was to obey my every word. Everyone would laugh, calling them my ‘left and right-hand protectors.’ Until five months into my pregnancy, when I was tidying up James’s old belongings in our military housing, I found a heavy iron box. Opening it, I discovered all the letters he’d written before dangerous missions – his last wills. I picked up the topmost one, the ink still fresh, my fingertips trembling with tenderness. But the moment I unfolded the letter, I felt a chilling dread. The opening address wasn’t me. To my dearest Kate, My breath caught. My gaze frantically dropped, fixing on the last paragraph: If I fall, all my assets go to you. As for Norma, please take care of her. If she asks… tell her I never loved her. Don’t let her hate you; I’ll carry all the guilt alone. My hands shaking, I frantically opened every single letter. Seven hundred and thirty-two of them. Every single one began with “Kate” and ended with “Kate.” And Kate was none other than my best friend. 1 I knelt amidst the scattered letters. My fingertips trembled so much I couldn’t hold a thin piece of paper. Tears streamed uncontrollably, blurring the words on the pages. Kate, eat an extra bowl of the rice balls with fermented rice wine from that place on the west side of town for me tonight, the one you love. Kate, I’m sorry to make you sad again. Kate, after I’m gone, please scatter my ashes beneath that old locust tree, so I can always watch over you. The old locust tree. Our old locust tree. When I was eight, the devastating news of my parents’ sacrifice arrived. I curled up in the corner of the mourning hall, crying until no sound came out. James and Kate, one on each side, stubbornly held my hands, leading me away from the somber room. We ran to the old locust tree in the backyard, which had stood for countless years. Kate’s face was still tear-streaked, but she raised three fingers, pointing at the tree trunk, her voice choked yet incredibly clear: “Grandpa Locust, I swear to you, from now on, I will protect Norma for her mom and dad, for my entire life! No one is allowed to hurt her!” James immediately mimicked her, raising his fingers, his small face stern and determined. His voice was even louder than hers: “And me! I’ll protect Norma for my entire life too! Even longer than you!” Later, they did. My world, because of their presence, was safe and bright. The child in my womb seemed to sense my intense emotional turmoil, kicking restlessly. I instinctively clutched my belly, but my fingertips brushed against the letters scattered on the floor. My vision blurred again. I futilely tried to stuff the letters back into the box. But my hands wouldn’t obey, just fumbling wildly. Every letter felt like a scorching coal, burning, making my insides seize up. I don’t know how long passed, but I finally collapsed against the wall, drenched in cold sweat. From outside the door, I heard approaching footsteps and familiar bickering. Kate’s voice was crisp, tinged with her usual disdain for James: “James Sterling, slow down! So clumsy, you’ve spilled the fermented rice wine soup! Buying two portions isn’t enough, you had to clear out their whole pot, showing off how much you can eat, huh?” James’s voice was deep, equally tinged with his usual impatience: “What do you know? Norma’s pregnant now, her appetite is unpredictable. What’s wrong with buying more? What if she wanted to eat it?” The door opened. Kate peeked in first, saw me on the floor, and rushed over, helping me up. “Why are you sitting on the floor? Pregnant women shouldn’t get cold, hurry and get up!” James quickly put down the rice balls he was holding and ran over, checking my forehead with one hand and supporting me with the other. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” I let them both help me up. Kate was the first to notice my swollen, red eyes, asking anxiously, “Why are your eyes so red? Did James bully you?! Tell me, I’ll punch him for you!” James looked at her exasperatedly, “Kate, don’t talk nonsense. I adore my wife; how could I possibly bully her!” He then turned back to me, gently cupping my face, his eyes full of concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” “Who hurt you?” “Or is your stomach upset? I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” 2 The concern in their eyes was utterly genuine. Kate even had tears welling in hers. But as James’s hand brushed my cheek, asking me softly, I clearly saw a fleeting look of disappointment and suppressed longing in Kate’s eyes. Before, I had never noticed. Now, it was so obvious. The cold words from the letters crashed into my mind again. Kate, tomorrow I’m going to propose to Norma. I know this is selfish, and incredibly unfair to you. But Norma… she needs me more. She’s too lonely. And you, Kate, you will always be the one I love most, my best comrade, the one I can always trust my back to. If there’s a next life, I promise I’ll marry you. At the end of the letter, there was a dark, irregular stain. Like a dried water mark. It must have been a tear. I once believed that marrying James was the greatest fortune of my life. I once believed that his kindness to me was truly because he loved me. Never did I imagine that all of it was merely his compassionate charity. How benevolent, and how cruel. A strong, metallic taste rose in my throat, which I desperately suppressed. I suddenly bent over, dry heaving violently. Nothing came up, only cold, acidic bile burning my esophagus. The child in my belly seemed startled, moving more fiercely. A tearing, dull pain erupted from my lower abdomen, quickly sweeping through my entire body. “Norma!” “Sweetheart!” Chaos, jostling. James’s arms around me were stiff as iron. Kate’s tearful voice was distant, then close. A warm dampness spread beneath me. The cold corridor of the military hospital, the harsh white lights flashing across my vision. I don’t know how long passed before the doctor removed his gloves. “I’m sorry, the fetal heartbeat has stopped. Sudden, severe intrauterine distress, leading to violent contractions… we couldn’t save the baby.” The baby. Gone. Five simple words, yet they drained every last bit of strength and warmth from my body. I heard Kate’s and James’s fractured voices by my ears. “Sweetheart, it’s alright… we’ll have a second, a third child later.” “Yes, Norma, don’t be scared. Once you recover, there will be more.” They sounded so distressed, so sincere. I just lay there, eyes open, my mind replaying not the words on the letters, but much older images. 3 In my senior year of high school, when I vaguely realized my feelings for James had surpassed mere friendship, I confided everything to Kate without reservation. Kate was stunned for a moment, then she looked at me with disdain: “Norma, how could you like him?” “He’s completely unworthy of you.” After that, Kate disliked James even more, almost falling into a cold war with him. On the day James and I officially became a couple, Kate and James had a huge fight. She cried until her eyes were red, but wouldn’t say a word about why. Later, James went to military academy, and Kate went to medical school. Both eventually joined the armed forces, and Kate became the accompanying medic for his team. Because my body couldn’t adapt to the military environment, Kate held my hand and said, “Norma, don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on James for you.” Later, James proposed to me, and Kate cried uncontrollably at our wedding. She clutched James’s collar, her voice choked yet fierce: “James Sterling, if you ever dare to treat Norma badly, I’ll be the first to come after you.” James, uncharacteristically, didn’t talk back. He just looked at her trembling lips, his eyes red, and softly replied, “Alright.” From then on, James’s attitude towards her subtly shifted. When Kate criticized him, most of the time he just listened. Sometimes he would even indulge her, saying, “You’re absolutely right.” The day I found out I was pregnant, Kate cried again. That night, she drank a lot, crying and drinking. She said, “Norma, I’m so happy for you, you’re going to be a mother…” “I probably won’t ever get married. Your child will be my child.” “Norma… I really envy you…” She was incoherent, but I just assumed she was drunk. Later, James walked her home. He was gone for a long time. When he returned, his eyes were a bit red, and his lip was cut. He said it was too dark downstairs, and he accidentally ran into a wall. Kate was never one to cry easily. Yet, whenever it involved James and me, her tears seemed to flow effortlessly. Once, I asked her, “Kate, all these years, have you truly never liked anyone?” She suddenly looked up, quickly glanced at James, and smiled, saying, “Of course. I’ve recently taken a liking to a younger guy. I’ll introduce him to you later.” As Kate said this, the glass in James’s hand fell and shattered. And that younger guy, I never saw him. So, everything had been there for me to see. I just never did, or rather, I never wanted to. Now, they knelt before my bed, crying their hearts out. I looked at their two tear-streaked faces, contorted with pain. Suddenly, even breathing felt cold. Finally, I simply closed my eyes and said softly, “I’m tired.” 4 Late at night, James and Kate left the hospital room. I opened my eyes, got out of bed, and followed them. At the end of the corridor, James drew Kate into his arms, comforting her softly. “It’s alright, don’t be too sad.” His hand gently patted Kate’s back, a familiar and tender gesture. Kate’s face was buried in his shoulder, her shoulders subtly shaking. “But… the baby…” Her voice was broken. “Norma… she loved this baby so much…” “If I hadn’t insisted on you accompanying me to watch the sunrise in Westview today, or going to the movies, or buying those rice balls…” “It’s not your fault, this was an accident. No one wanted this.” James interrupted her, his jaw brushing against the top of her head. This intimate gesture made my stomach churn again. Early this morning, James had said he had a small mission, and Kate needed to accompany him. His tone was normal; he even tucked me into bed thoughtfully, telling me to get more rest. I’d seen the red veins in his eyes and just assumed he was tired, even feeling concerned for his safety. How could I have suspected? They were my husband and my most trusted friend. One protected the country, the other saved lives. All my trust, at this moment, seemed so laughable. Kate looked up, her tear stains glistening in the dim light. “James, I suddenly feel so guilty towards Norma. She’s your wife.” James looked at her, the emotions in his eyes so thick they almost spilled over. It was pain, tenderness, struggle. It was a gaze of complete devotion, a mix of all complex emotions, directed solely at one person. That look had never rested on me with such intensity. “Kate, don’t overthink it,” his voice was hoarse. “I’m the one who wronged you.” “As for Norma… I’ll take good care of her.” A deeper pain and self-reproach flickered in Kate’s eyes. She opened her mouth, then once again buried her face deeply in his embrace. And I stood in the shadows. Watching my husband and my best friend. In the dead of night, just after I lost my child, they were licking each other’s wounds. The most painful thing, it turned out, wasn’t their deception. It was this unspoken, deeply ingrained connection and sorrow between them. That shared, secret world that completely shut me out. I didn’t disturb them. I just slowly, step by step, retreated back to my room. The next day, Kate’s eyes were still swollen, but she had already put on a disdainful expression, criticizing James’s porridge for being too hot and the side dishes too salty. James, frowning, occasionally retorted. But neither of them mentioned the baby. If it were before, seeing them like this, I would have felt reassured, felt happy. But now, I leaned against the headboard, watching quietly. Every deliberately averted glance. Every unnatural pause. Every raised voice to mask their guilt in an argument. Each was like a fine needle, pricking my heart. I started to become silent. All day, I either stared blankly out the window or closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Talking required effort. Dealing with things required energy. And all my effort and energy had vanished with that little life I never met.

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I finally saw Caleb again after five years of silence. We were at my best friend’s wedding. He was the groom. I was the bridesmaid. My best friend, Maya, giggled as she leaned in to share their love story: “I actually saved him after his car crash. I heard he had a fiancée back home, but I didn’t care. I moved him across the country that same night to get him ‘better treatment’.” “Pretty bold move, right? Admit it, your girl is a total badass.” 1 Maya kept talking, her voice bubbling with excitement, but I couldn’t hear a word. All I could hear was a high-pitched, deafening ringing in my ears. Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. The man I loved most had been hidden away by my best friend for five entire years. I doubled over, gasping for air, my body shaking uncontrollably. Maya noticed my face and rushed to steady me, leading me toward the bridal suite. “Clara? What’s wrong? Is it another panic attack?” she asked, her voice laced with forced concern. For five years, I had searched for Caleb. I had traveled to every city, questioned every witness, posted missing person flyers on every street corner, and spent my savings on private investigators. Even his own family had given up. I was the only one left looking. On countless dark nights, I had stood on the edge of subway platforms, wondering if I should just let the darkness swallow me whole. And now, it was all a sick joke. I looked at the faint white scars on my right wrist—marks of a pain that never truly healed. My chest felt like it was being ripped open. Maya sighed. “Are you still thinking about your ex? Let it go, Clara. It’s been five years. He’s probably dead.” “Look, after the honeymoon, I’ll set you up with one of Caleb’s groomsmen. They’re all great guys.” Just then, Caleb walked in. He was in a sharp black tuxedo, tall and poised, looking exactly as he did five years ago. Our eyes met. He offered me a flat, indifferent glance before stepping forward to fix Maya’s veil. Behind him were the groomsmen—his old friends, people I had known for years. When they saw me, they looked away, their expressions full of guilt and unspoken words. A moment ago, I could have lied to myself. I could have hoped he had amnesia. But the looks on his friends’ faces told me everything. He hadn’t forgotten. He knew exactly who I was. He just didn’t love me anymore. Maya beamed. “Honey, tell your friends to stick around for the after-party tonight. We’re going to have a blast.” She winked at me. Caleb gave a curt nod, never looking back in my direction. It was as if we were total strangers. I closed my eyes. My heart felt like it was being crushed, then carved out and thrown into a furnace. I had never felt this kind of agonizing madness. I needed an exit. I stood up and bolted into the restroom. I slammed my forehead against the tiled wall. Thud. The impact sent a shock through my system, and blood began to trickle down my face. The world blurred. I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, my breath coming in ragged hitches. I hit the back of my head against the wall again. And again. It was the only way to drown out the pain in my soul. “Caleb…” I whispered, a broken laugh escaping my lips. “You really didn’t want me after all.” 2 By the time I walked out of the restroom, the ceremony had started. Maya had found someone else to fill in for me. I stood at the very back of the chapel, watching her smile as she said, “I do.” Caleb dropped to one knee with practiced solemnity, sliding a diamond ring onto her finger. A jagged spark of jealousy flared in my gut. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear that dress off her and ask why she stole my life. I wanted to ask Caleb why he was pretending I didn’t exist. Why he never came home. I wanted to burn the whole place down. But I didn’t. I sat in the corner and, once they were pronounced husband and wife, I was the first one to start clapping. I clapped so loudly that people turned to stare. I didn’t care. When Caleb finally looked toward the back of the room, I met his gaze. My eyes filled with tears I couldn’t hold back. Caleb’s brow twitched for a split second, then he looked away. His dark eyes remained cold and empty. I squeezed my hands into fists. I felt like I was losing my mind. I pulled out my phone and sent him a text: [Caleb, I’m not going to wish you a happy marriage.] [I hope you never get anything you truly want for the rest of your life.] A second later, I realized how stupid I was. The woman he wanted was already standing right next to him. My curse meant nothing. I left before the reception started. If I stayed a moment longer, I knew I would break. Three years ago, when the leads on Caleb went cold again, I had tried to end it. I woke up in a hospital bed with Caleb’s mother holding my hand, begging me to stay alive—for him. But a world without Caleb was too bitter. We had met when we were six. We were high school sweethearts. On the day of our college graduation, we had picked out a date to get our marriage license. He was on his way to meet me when the accident happened. Then he vanished. Now he was back, but the man I loved was gone. 3 I fell into a heavy, feverish sleep. When I finally checked my phone, I had missed calls from Maya and a sympathetic text from Caleb’s mother. And one reply that stood out above the rest. A single, freezing word: [Leave.] I let out a hollow laugh. My years of devotion were nothing but a nuisance to him. I shut myself inside my apartment. I stopped sleeping. My hair fell out in clumps. I didn’t leave the house for ten days. I withered away until I was nothing but skin and bone. Finally, Maya showed up at my door, Caleb trailing behind her. I hadn’t showered in over a week. I smelled of sweat and despair. Maya didn’t care. She hugged me tight, trying to pull me toward the car to take me to the hospital. I knew she was afraid I’d try to kill myself again. I pulled my hand away, my voice cold and distant. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I didn’t know how to look at her. Hate? Gratitude? I couldn’t feel either. I just wanted her away from me. She ignored my coldness, chalking it up to my “condition.” “Clara, pick up your phone! Do you know how worried I’ve been?” she scolded. “Starting today, Caleb and I are moving in with you. We’re going to take care of you until you’re back on your feet.” “No arguments. It’s settled.” She was so bright, so bubbly, so determined. It was impossible not to be swept up by her energy. I could see why Caleb fell for her. I looked at the shadow standing behind her. His eyes were like ice, narrowing as if he were looking at a total stranger. Even if he was cold, even if he was a million miles away, I still craved his presence. Just one more day. One more minute. Even a second. I don’t know if I gave in because I needed her care or because of my own selfish heart. I let them move in. This apartment was supposed to be our home. After he vanished, I had decorated it exactly the way he liked it. Everything was in his style. Maya looked around, eyes wide. “Whoa, Clara. Your taste is… intense. Why is everything so dark? It’s so depressing.” “Everything is black or gray. There’s no color at all.” Because the light left my world, I thought. “My fiancé liked it this way,” I said softly. “So I kept it.” 4 Maya frowned. “You need to have your own opinions, girl. Don’t let a guy dictate your life.” “My husband let me pick everything for our place. I make him sleep on pink silk sheets every night.” I looked down. I remembered when we first moved in together. I loved pink too. I bought pink towels, pink toothbrushes, pink dishes. I even bought him pink boxers. He never wore them. He hated the sheets so much he slept on the floor until I changed them back to navy. I felt a pang of self-torture and asked, “Does he… sleep on the floor?” Maya laughed, glancing at Caleb. “He wouldn’t dare.” “He even wears the pink boxers now.” A flicker of embarrassment crossed Caleb’s face. He tapped her on the head, trying to quiet her. “What’s wrong with pink sheets? If your fiancé slept on the floor over a color, it just proves he didn’t love you enough,” Maya added. “You spent years looking for a total jerk.” After a long silence, I whispered, “You’re right.” “Maybe he really didn’t love me.” I felt Caleb’s gaze linger on me for a moment. His voice was like a blade. “In that case, Miss Lane should have the dignity to move on.” “It’s pathetic to interfere in other people’s lives. Living in a fantasy only makes people despise you.” His words were cruel and direct. Fantasy. He thought my grief was a performance. My eyes stung. “You seem to know a lot about him. Are you the same kind of man?” “The kind who disappears, lets someone wait until their hope dies, and never even offers an apology?” “And then you call it ‘living in a fantasy’? I just wanted an explanation. Does five years of my life mean absolutely nothing to you?” Caleb’s jaw tightened. He was losing his patience. “No one asked you to wait. Love and hate are choices. If you chose to waste five years, you should deal with the consequences yourself.” “Or did you think your ‘sacrifice’ would force him to marry you out of pity?” 5 His words were final. I stood there, frozen, as every hope I had ever held collapsed. Tears finally spilled over. His words were like a jagged knife, carving into me over and over again. He was right. It was my choice. No one forced me to wait. So I had to swallow the result alone. Our history, once so solid, now felt like smoke. Maya realized the vibe was becoming toxic and pulled Caleb into their guest room. Her voice drifted through the door, sharp and hushed. “What is wrong with you? She’s clearly not stable, and you’re being a total ass.” “Stop provoking her, do you hear me?” Caleb let out a short, mocking laugh. “She’s just putting on a show.” I sat in the dark living room for hours. My forehead still throbbed, a physical reminder of my own stupidity. Over the next two weeks, I barely saw Caleb. He went out of his way to avoid me. I became even more of a ghost, staying in my room. Maya was always there, cooking for me, making sure I took my meds. I hated her for being so kind. Her kindness made it impossible for me to even try to take him back. It made me feel like the “other woman” in my own home. But how could I be okay with this? I was jealous of every smile he gave her. I wanted to tear my own eyes out so I didn’t have to see them. I even had a dark thought: I wish he had actually died. At least then I could have kept the memory of the man who loved me. I started spending all my time in the living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of him when he came home. But he seemed to sense it. He stopped coming back. “Where is he?” I finally asked Maya. She was scrolling through her phone, smiling. “Oh, he’s been so busy. His company in New York needs him, so he’s been staying at a hotel near the office to get work done.” I froze. “New York? He’s been in New York?” “Yeah, for the last three years.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “Caleb was in the country three years ago?” “Yeah. He came back to finalize our engagement.” I couldn’t breathe. My throat felt like it was closing up. He was here. He was in the same country while I was ending up in the ER because I couldn’t find him. Maya’s words were like a physical blow to the face. The next second, she jumped up. “Clara, get up! Get dressed!” “Caleb wants me to bring you to a lounge tonight. He wants you to meet someone. I saw a photo—he’s gorgeous. Total upgrade.” She dragged me into my room, did my makeup, and picked out an outfit. I let her. I just wanted to see Caleb.

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My mom is the heroine of a novel, but my dad isn’t the male lead. He’s the villain. They all say my dad was a terrible man who forced himself upon the heroine, which resulted in me being forced into existence. But after my mom had me, she was “redeemed” by the male lead. She didn’t take care of me for a single day. She viewed me as a stain on her life and wished I would disappear from the face of the earth. Meanwhile, my villain dad changed my diapers, fed me formula, and drove me to school. Despite being subjected to daily mental and financial attacks by the “hero and heroine,” he took care of me day in and day out for decades. One day, I asked him: “Dad, why does everyone say you’re the villain?” He replied: “Because they’re out of their damn minds. Stop overthinking. It’s 8 PM. Time to drink your milk.” Chapter 1 After he spoke, my villain dad poured me another glass of hot milk. He stared at me until I drank every last drop. Honestly, I absolutely hate milk, but my dad always said, “Eat your meat, eggs, and dairy. That’s the only way you’ll be strong enough to beat the crap out of people later.” I was shocked by his educational philosophy at the time, but I always drank the slightly sour milk under his unwavering, intense gaze. Sigh. I’m a grown woman now, and I’m still being forced to drink milk. Once I finished, he went back to being busy. His company literally couldn’t function for a day without him. According to the plot of the book, in about three years, we would lose this massive estate. We’d have to move into a cramped apartment and live like ordinary people. I suddenly started to panic about the future. My big, bad villain dad was going to end up in a tiny rental because of me? How could I let that happen? “Dad, why don’t you just hand me over to Vanessa? Didn’t she say that as long as you give me to her, she’ll stop shorting the Sterling Group’s stock?” Vanessa Hayes is my biological mother, though I’ve never called her that. She abandoned me the moment I was born. She doesn’t deserve to be my mother. Chapter 2 My villain dad, Arthur Sterling, didn’t even look up. His fingers continued flying across his keyboard. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting? You drank your milk, now go to bed.” I muttered, “I’m not spouting nonsense. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to work this hard.” I wasn’t a clueless kid anymore. I knew everything about their past grievances and tangled history. Right now, Vanessa and her devoted male lead, Carter Hayes, were going crazy, recklessly attacking the Sterling Group. My dad slammed his laptop shut and poked me hard in the forehead. “Nora, what goes on in that head of yours all day? Your mother already has her true-love daughter. Why would you go back there? To be the fake heiress? Or to be their punching bag?” I pouted. “I’m not that brain-dead.” “Seems to me you’ve forgotten the pain now that the scar has healed. You have a perfectly good life as a billionaire’s daughter, but you want to go over there and suffer? Has there ever been a time you ran into Chloe and weren’t mocked?” “If you’re bored, take the black card and go shopping. Go travel. If all else fails, go read a book or practice your kickboxing. You just have too much free time on your hands.” I mumbled an “Oh.” I silently took my dad’s Amex Centurion card. He was right. In the eyes of the outside world, I couldn’t even compare to Vanessa’s precious true-love daughter, Chloe Hayes. Every time we appeared at the same event, I’d end up humiliated, whispered about by the media and the other rich socialites. Plus, I used to be too weak. My dad blamed it on me not eating enough meat and dairy. “Who does she think she is?” my dad would say. “Has there ever been a single thing I haven’t given you the absolute best of since you were born? The fact that you don’t hit them back when they talk trash makes me furious. If you hit them and cause a scene, I’ve got your back. I’ll clean up the mess.” They talked about me like that, and I didn’t fight back. I was useless. Chapter 3 When it rains, it pours. I was in the middle of a massive shopping spree at a luxury boutique when I saw Vanessa bring Chloe in to pick out clothes. The two of them walked in. Chloe was clinging to Vanessa’s arm. “Mom, you don’t need to spend so much. It’s not even an important occasion.” “Of course it’s important! It’s my precious daughter’s birthday. You have to be the most dazzling girl in the room. Whatever you want, Mom will buy it for you.” Chloe acted all cutesy. “I wonder if I can sit down for a bit. My feet are sore~” Vanessa totally bought into it. “I’ll have them model the clothes for you. You just sit over there and pick.” That was when they finally noticed me. I was sitting in the boutique’s VIP lounge, enjoying the personal service from the sales associates. Beside me was a mountain of luxury goods and shopping bags I had already paid for. They were scattered all over the floor. Chloe’s face turned pale when she saw it. Usually, Vanessa and Carter strictly controlled her spending. If she wanted designer goods, she had to wait for Vanessa to offer. She could never be as carefree as me—swiping a card whenever I wanted, buying whatever I desired. The sales associates looked a bit awkward. My stuff was everywhere, and I was sprawled out comfortably. There wasn’t a single place left for the mother-daughter duo to sit. “Ladies, please wait just a moment,” an associate said. I couldn’t care less, but Chloe’s expression was ugly. She timidly pulled on Vanessa. “Mom, why don’t we go to a different store? I didn’t know my sister was here.” Vanessa immediately stepped forward and tried to grab my arm. “Nora, get up.” I didn’t move an inch. My dad just told me not to suffer any grievances. Vanessa looked annoyed. I was looking at her like she was invisible, completely ignoring her presence. “What kind of attitude is that?” I smiled at the two of them. “I just dropped tens of millions of dollars in this store today. If I don’t sit here, who does? Do you see the staff kicking me out?” Chloe’s face grew even paler. Even though Vanessa brought her here to shop today, she would never spend that kind of money on her… Chloe’s ankle was apparently a bit chafed from her shoes. Somehow, she dramatically lost her balance and fell to the side. If Vanessa hadn’t been standing close by, she would have hit the floor. A crack appeared in Vanessa’s flawless facade. “Nora! Apologize to Chloe!” “Not a chance in hell. You want an apology? Wait for your next life. Have all these items delivered to the Sterling Estate. If any new arrivals come in, send them straight over. The air in this store is toxic; I don’t like it.” Chapter 4 Vanessa’s expression turned dark and sinister. “Nora, don’t think you can do whatever you want just because Arthur has your back! Once you’re married off, we’ll see how he protects you then!” “Huh? Just because I get married means my last name won’t be Sterling anymore? What kind of medieval, patriarchal garbage is that?” But I didn’t care what she thought. I turned on my heel and strutted out. A villain needs to have the self-awareness of a villain: don’t constantly shove yourself in front of the main characters. My dad and I never gained anything good from being around her. I still remembered the time my dad snapped at her: “Vanessa, drop the innocent victim act, and don’t be a bad influence on my daughter.” All she had to do was shed a few tears, and the Sterling Group instantly faced aggressive suppression from Carter. My dad even got attacked once when he went out. If he wasn’t tough as nails, he might have died right there. Carter is the adopted son of the Hayes family. He’s Vanessa’s most loyal attack dog, and an absolute psychopath. If she’s unhappy, I genuinely believe Carter would drag the whole world down with her. And right now, the thing that makes Vanessa the most unhappy is me—the stain on her life from before her marriage. Rumor has it that after my dad forced himself on her, she desperately wanted to abort me. But the doctor strongly warned her: “If you abort this child, your chances of ever conceiving again will be extremely low.” Because of that, Vanessa held her nose and gave birth to me. The moment I was born, she dumped me at the gates of the Sterling Estate. She didn’t want me, and she didn’t want to be my mother. And I don’t look a thing like her. I look exactly like my dad. We have the classic villain aesthetics—striking, sharp, and flawlessly elegant features, all perfectly replicated on my face. Anyone could tell we were father and daughter. As I grew older, I got more beautiful, and supposedly more “wicked.” But besides their verbal and mental attacks, they couldn’t actually affect my life in any tangible way. Because for a very long chunk of the plot, my villain dad is the one with the real money. And that is what disgusts Vanessa the most. Chapter 5 Vanessa didn’t give up trying to control me. Her control freak tendencies were off the charts. Using the excuse that I was of marriageable age, she claimed she was looking for a suitable match for me and repeatedly sent me resumes and invitations. The previous ones were all ugly losers. I threw them in the trash without a second glance. But when the latest resume was placed in front of me and my villain dad, we were both stunned. “I thought she’d find me some uneducated, trust-fund playboy? Is this a trap?” The owner of this resume was Sebastian Vance, a well-known heir in the city’s high society. After studying abroad, he returned to work at his family’s corporation. Although he hadn’t elevated the Vance family to top-tier billionaire status like his uncle had, he was still a capable and handsome heir. At the very least, in this city, there was a long line of rich girls dying to marry him. My villain dad agreed. “A resume this impressive… what game is she playing? Is this guy secretly gay? Why don’t you go check it out? It’s just a cocktail party anyway. Treat it like a night out.” We exchanged a look. Both of us felt this wasn’t as simple as it seemed. I sighed, dressed up, and went to the event. He had successfully piqued my curiosity. Deep down, I knew Vanessa wasn’t kind enough to save a good catch for me. I only realized what was going on when I got there. Sebastian was indeed quite a catch. Six-foot-three, articulate, with a face that could rival any Hollywood star. But his eyes were constantly lingering on Chloe. Chloe was wearing a little white dress, her cheeks flushed. “I just received my acceptance letter for a Master’s program at Harvard, but it’s a bit far from home, so my parents are hesitating…” The people around them gasped in admiration. In this circle of rich kids, there are few who can actually study, and many who just like to show off. Getting an acceptance letter from an Ivy League school was definitely something to brag about. Me: “…” Why is she acting so innocent and helpless again? I remembered that Harvard was also one of the schools listed on Sebastian’s resume. Sure enough, Sebastian’s eyes lit up. He stepped right past me and walked up to Chloe. “Don’t worry about it. I graduated from there too. If you have any questions, you can ask me anytime.” Right then, Vanessa appeared out of nowhere and warmly grabbed my hand. “Nora, this is Sebastian. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?” “Hmm… what did I tell you back then? I told you to study hard. Now look at you, you can’t even join the conversation, can you?” Sebastian finally turned his head to look at me. Almost imperceptibly, he furrowed his brow. Chapter 6 The people attending this cocktail party were all invited by the Hayes family, and every single one of them was a shrewd socialite. Instantly, the whispers started: “Isn’t that the useless daughter from the Sterling family?” “She probably graduated from some diploma mill, right? Standing there all alone, how embarrassing.” “Exactly. Born from the same mother, yet the difference is night and day. It really comes down to education.” “What good is money if you’re an empty-headed airhead? Sooner or later, she’s going to squander the entire Sterling fortune.” … Chloe stood to the side, looking at me timidly. “Sister, why are you here? If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought that topic up.” Her voice grew quieter. “Even if I talked about it, you wouldn’t understand…” The look in Sebastian’s eyes changed from initial awe at my appearance to a trace of contempt. There are plenty of beautiful women in the world, and plenty of them are airheads. And guys like him hated airheads the most. I instantly understood what Vanessa was doing. She wanted me to see with my own eyes how outstanding her precious daughter was. More likely, she just sent me Sebastian’s resume without ever telling him I was the intended match. She wanted me to witness firsthand how attracted he was to Chloe. And me? Pampered to the extreme by my dad, my public image was that of a brainless, wicked girl. She really knew how to play the comparison game. I looked at the wealthy socialites who had just been gossiping and pointed at them one by one. “The Wangs, the Qians, the Sus. You were the ones talking trash about me just now, right?” I smiled brightly at them. “Your husbands are out getting stolen by mistresses, and your kids are sitting in your basements getting fat off your money, yet you have the free time to gossip about someone else’s family?” “And you, my dear sister. Why don’t you mention that your dad donated an entire building to the school just to get you admitted?” My words instantly silenced the entire room. Chloe’s face turned beet red. “I… I applied on my own merits.” Sebastian stepped in to comfort her. “Ms. Sterling, you’re being far too aggressive. How could you possibly know those things? Do you have any proof? There’s no need to be so hurtful.” I shrugged. It was like they were meeting me for the first time. Anyone with half a brain in this city knew exactly what kind of person I was. Plus, as a minor villain who constantly danced around the main characters, what’s wrong with having a little inside information? “Lies don’t hurt. The truth is the sharpest knife.” “My dad wanted to donate a few buildings for me too, but I told him no need. I wasn’t going to go gild a hollow brain just for show.” This time, Chloe was genuinely so embarrassed she was on the verge of tears. It took Vanessa a long time to smooth things over and get the party back on track. She viciously warned me to keep my mouth shut. Later in the party, I ran into Sebastian again while getting a slice of cake. Hidden by the white tablecloth of the dessert station, I kicked Sebastian’s leg with my stiletto. It was supposed to be a subtle, flirtatious gesture, but I kicked him like I was venting my anger. Sebastian hissed in pain. Chapter 7 I was still in a foul mood when my driver dropped me off at home. As soon as I walked through the door, I kicked my heels off. My villain dad was on the couch dealing with company business. He turned to look at me. “What’s wrong? Who made my precious daughter angry? Do you want Daddy to handle them for you?” I plopped down next to him. “What ‘good man’? His brain is shallower than a puddle. When he gets old, I’m going to track him down and sell him snake oil supplements.” “Men are all like that. I’ve made you watch so many documentaries about scumbags. How do you still have any illusions about men?” I pouted, crossed my legs, and ate the fruit a maid handed me. “Hmph. He looks so proper on the outside, but he’s absolute trash.” “He was never a good thing to begin with. What, does he look better in person than in his photos?” I nodded. “Sigh, it’s just a handsome face. If you like it, grab him and keep him as a pet. If you don’t, toss him out. Why get so worked up over a crooked tree?” Sometimes I feel like my villain dad’s mindset is way too advanced. What he’s suggesting—isn’t that basically keeping a harem of male concubines? I was so shocked I almost choked on my fruit. What kind of respectable heiress actually keeps a stable of male models at home? I thought about it for a second. I couldn’t just swallow tonight’s humiliation for nothing. “No way. How can anyone not like me? He has to like me.” “Once he falls for me, I’m going to dump him so hard and make him pay for what happened today.” My dad fell silent for a moment. “Forced fruit isn’t sweet, Nora. You still need to know where to draw the line.” He sank into thought, a dark, gloomy aura radiating from him. Only then did it hit me—didn’t my dad force his relationship because he liked someone? Now, this messy web of relationships is still tangled. I wonder if he’d do it all over again if he had the chance. I patted my dad’s shoulder. “Dad, it’s fine. There are plenty of people in this world who hate us already. I don’t mind adding one more. Even if I tie him up, the worst he can do is hate me. What else can he do? We live in a society with laws. He can’t kill me.” It’s just a man. Three-legged frogs are hard to find, but two-legged men? Men are a dime a dozen. “You’re right. But Nora, Dad doesn’t want to see you get hurt. Play your games, but don’t give away your heart.” I promised him I wouldn’t.

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I was bonded to the Spite System. Every point of spite I provoked in others translated into a ten-thousand-dollar deposit in my bank account. It was Thanksgiving, the air thick with the smell of roasted turkey and the even thicker tension of family judgment. My Aunt Martha leaned back, a saccharine smile plastered on her face as she looked me up and down. “Sam, looks like you’ve been eating well. You’ve definitely… filled out since last year.” I smiled back, the picture of filial piety. “I could say the same, Auntie. You’ve really aged into your years. What is it now? Your seventieth birthday coming up? We should start looking at some nice assisted living brochures.” [Spite Value +10. $100,000 deposited.] My Aunt Linda immediately jumped into the fray, weaponizing her concern. “So, Sam, what are you doing for work these days? Are you even clearing fiftyk? Your cousin Chloe is making two hundred thousand a year now at her firm.” My eyes lit up with mock greed. “That’s incredible. Maybe she can Venmo me twenty thousand right now just to prove she’s actually got it?” [Spite Value +10. $100,000 deposited.] Chloe, who had spent her entire life looking down on me from her Designer-shod pedestal, let out a sharp, derisive snort. “What’s the point of having a smart mouth, Sam? You were born a loser, and you’ll die a pauper. Some people just don’t have the DNA for success.” I glanced at my phone. My balance was already ticking past the million-dollar mark. I leaned back and gave her a slow, steady wink. “You’d be surprised, Chloe. Having a smart mouth is actually paying off better than you’d think.” … Chloe couldn’t help but laugh, a jagged, ugly sound. “Honestly, Sam, does acting like a prick put food on the table?” She raised her voice, making sure the aunts and uncles hovering in the foyer could hear every word. “A loser is a loser. Stop trying to play the alpha.” She reached into her Prada bag and tossed a set of keys onto the coffee table with a heavy clunk. The BMW logo caught the light. “I just picked up the new 5 Series. Nothing crazy, just about seventy thousand after taxes.” As the relatives cooed and leaned in to admire the key fob, she turned to me with a look of pure pity. “But I guess seventy thousand is a number you won’t see in your bank account for the rest of your life, right?” She stood up, looming over me. “Tell you what. You give me a hundred bucks, and for the sake of ‘family,’ I’ll let your whole house walk outside and touch the hood. Maybe the success will rub off on you.” A ripple of cruel laughter went through the room. My parents stood by the kitchen island, their faces flushed with embarrassment. I felt a familiar ache in my chest seeing them like that. Ever since my Uncle George—Chloe’s dad—struck it rich in real estate years ago, they had treated us like a charity case they didn’t want to fund. It got worse after my dad broke his leg on a construction site. He lost his job, and suddenly, we weren’t just the ‘poor’ relatives; we were the ‘burden.’ They had spent years stepping on us just to feel taller. I looked at my seven-figure balance and then up at Chloe. I gave her a small, tight smile. “That’s a crazy coincidence,” I said. “I actually just ordered a new car myself. It should be arriving any minute.” Chloe looked at me like I had just claimed to be the King of England. “Oh my god, everyone! Prince Sam bought a car!” She spun around to the room. “Let’s get ready, everyone! Let’s see what Sam ‘ordered.’ What is it, Sam? A 2005 Honda with a taped-up bumper? A motorized scooter?” The laughter grew louder. Linda was practically slapping her knee. “Sam, honey, if you needed a bike to get to the grocery store, you could have just asked!” Right then, a low, guttural rumble vibrated through the front windows. It wasn’t the sound of a commuter car. It was the roar of a beast. The noise grew until it seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. Irritated, Chloe marched to the front door. “Who the hell is blocking the driveway?” She opened the door and froze. A custom Land Rover Defender, finished in a menacing matte Carpathian Grey, sat idling at the curb. It was massive, towering over Chloe’s BMW like a tank over a toy. The blacked-out wheels and the sheer presence of the thing made the entire suburban street look small. The relatives crowded behind her, breathless. “That’s at least a hundred and fifty thousand,” someone whispered. “Who in this neighborhood owns that?” “Now that is a real car. Makes that BMW look like a rental, doesn’t it?” Hearing the shift in the wind, Chloe’s face twisted. She screamed out toward the street, “Whose car is this? Don’t you know this is a private driveway?” I pushed my way through the crowd. “Excuse me. Out of the way, please.” Chloe saw me and found her target again. “What are you getting so excited for, Sam? You think the delivery guy is going to give you a ride, you pathetic—” She didn’t finish. A man in a crisp, tailored suit stepped out of the driver’s side, holding a leather-bound folder. He spotted me and beamed, jogging up the driveway. “Mr. Miller! Your custom Defender has arrived. We’ve handled the registration and the ceramic coating as requested. She’s all yours.” The silence that followed was absolute. Aunt Linda’s mouth was hanging open so wide I thought her jaw might unhinge. My parents were staring at me, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and terror, as if they were waiting for the FBI to swarm the house. Chloe’s face went from a furious red to a sickly, pale white, then settled on a bruised shade of purple. I took the Montblanc pen from the dealer and signed the delivery slip with a flourish. When I took the heavy, weighted key, I made sure to jingle it right in front of Chloe’s nose. “You know, Chloe, you were right,” I said softly. “I really don’t have the DNA for a seventy-thousand-dollar car.” I paused, letting the smile reach my eyes. “I guess I’m just more of a two-hundred-thousand-dollar-car kind of guy.” Chloe’s throat worked, her neck veins popping as she tried to find words that wouldn’t come. In my mind, the system notifications were firing like a machine gun. [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] … Her resentment was a gold mine. It didn’t stop until it hit five thousand points. My bank balance jumped into eight-figure territory. I was feeling a high I couldn’t describe. I was about to twist the knife a little deeper when a sharp, authoritative throat-clear cut through the air. “Hmph.” It was Uncle George. He stood on the porch, looking down his nose at me. “Buying a car is a nice milestone for a young man, Sam. But one should learn to live within their means. Emptying your life savings just to play dress-up for an afternoon… it’s short-sighted. How are you going to pay the insurance? The gas? You’ve got no vision.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark blue folder—the deed to a property. “Cars depreciate the moment they hit the asphalt, Sam. Real estate? That’s where the men are separated from the boys. Your perspective is still too small.” Chloe’s confidence flooded back instantly. She stood taller, her pale face regaining its arrogance. “My dad’s right,” she barked, her voice regaining its shrill edge. She snatched the deed and held it up for the neighbors to see. “Buying a car is cute. My dad just bought me a penthouse in the city. Four bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling glass. Six million dollars, cash.” She turned to my parents, her eyes glittering with malice. “Uncle David, Aunt Mary… I heard your roof is still leaking from the storm last month. Why haven’t you moved yet?” She mocked a look of realization. “Oh, right! Silly me. You probably spent your entire retirement fund just so Sam could pretend to be rich for a day!” My father’s head sank. The gray in his hair seemed more pronounced under the porch lights. His voice was a dry, shaking rasp. “It’s my fault. I haven’t provided enough for this family.” My mother’s eyes welled up. George and Chloe stood there, a united front of generational greed, thinking they had won the round. I reached out and squeezed my father’s trembling hand. With the other, I pulled out my phone and hit a contact on speaker. “Hello, Luxury Estates Group?” My voice was dead calm. “I’m looking at your listings. I want the largest, most expensive estate currently available in the Heights. I want a video tour. Now.” A professional, breathless female voice came through the speakers. “Sir, we have three off-market properties currently. The flagship is our ‘Aria Estate,’ but the budget is—” “I said the best and the most expensive,” I interrupted. The voice on the other end became audibly manic. “Yes, sir! Of course! The Aria is a twelve-thousand-square-foot manor. Infinity pool, private vineyard, six-car subterranean garage, and a detached guest house. The listing price is thirty-two million dollars.” A collective gasp rippled through the yard. Chloe burst out laughing. “Thirty-two million? Sam, you’ve lost your mind. If you sold your internal organs, you wouldn’t even cover the property taxes!” George shook his head, looking almost bored. “Stop it, kid. You’re embarrassing yourself. When the bubble bursts, it’s going to hurt.” I ignored them both. I looked at the video feed of the sprawling, white-stone mansion on my screen. “I’ll take it.” “Wonderful, Mr. Miller! I can schedule a viewing for tomorrow morning—” “No,” I said, my finger hovering over the screen. “I’m wiring the full amount now. Send the digital contracts.” “HAHAHAHA!” Chloe was doubled over. “He’s still acting! Check his pockets! He probably doesn’t even have forty bucks in his checking account!” I tapped the screen. Ding. The crisp chime of a completed wire transfer echoed in the quiet evening. The phone line went silent for three seconds. Then, the real estate agent’s voice came back, cracking with pure adrenaline. “Mr. Miller… the funds have cleared. My God. Congratulations, sir. You are officially the owner of the Aria Estate. We are sending a concierge car to pick you up for the keys immediately!” The laughter died in Chloe’s throat. Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull. George dropped his scotch glass; it shattered on the porch, splashing expensive bourbon across his leather shoes. I looked at their ghostly faces and let out a small, mock-surprised “Oh.” “You know, Chloe, it’s impressive that you’re so successful, and yet you still have to rely on your daddy to buy you a place to live.” I gave her a sugary, devastating smile. “It must be hard, being a ‘grown-up’ and still living off an allowance. Unlike me. I’m just a guy who can buy his parents a manor on a whim. It’s a bit big for just the three of us, but I think we’ll manage.” The spite hit me like a tidal wave. [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] … I looked at my balance. I couldn’t stop smiling. The atmosphere in the family shifted overnight. The relatives who used to swarm George and Chloe were now hovering around us, bringing expensive wine, asking about my “investments,” trying to get their kids an internship at whatever “company” they thought I ran. George’s family went to ground. They avoided us, crossing the street when they saw our Land Rover coming. I thought that was the end of it. Until the post-holiday family brunch at George’s house. When we arrived, the dining room was already packed. There wasn’t a single empty chair at the massive mahogany table. George’s wife, Martha, sat at the head of the table. She looked up as we entered and tapped her forehead in mock forgetfulness. “Oh, look at my memory! I got so caught up in seating the important guests that I completely forgot you three were coming.” She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “There’s no more room at the table. Why don’t you three just grab a plate and stand in the corner? We’re all family here; I’m sure you don’t mind.” The room went silent. The other relatives, sensing the shift, looked down at their plates, waiting for the explosion. My father’s face went pale. My mother gripped the strap of her purse until her knuckles turned white. I just shrugged. “Stand and eat? Sure. No problem.” And then, before anyone could blink, I stepped up onto the table. My boots landed right in the center of the white linen tablecloth. A platter of glazed ham was right by my feet. I leaned down, tore off a thick slice with my bare hand, and took a massive, savory bite. Standing on that table, I looked down at the row of stunned, frozen faces. I waved the ham at them. “What’s the matter? Dig in! It’s the holidays! Eat up, everyone!” [Spite Value +10] [Spite Value +10] [Spite Value +10] … “Get down from there!” George slammed his fist on the table, rattling the china. “Have you no decency?” I chewed slowly, blinking innocently. “You told us to stand and eat, Uncle George. I’m standing. I’m eating. I’m following the house rules.” George’s chest was heaving. Realizing he couldn’t outmaneuver me, he turned his fury on my father. “Look at this brat, David! Is this how you raised him? Like a common animal?” He pointed a shaking finger at my face. “I know the truth! He’s a fraud! He’s taken out massive predatory loans. He’s into the sharks for millions! If you don’t rein him in, he’s going to drag your whole family into the gutter!” Predatory loans? I felt a flash of confusion. Then I saw the looks of smug vindication on the relatives’ faces. Ah. They had convinced themselves that my money was borrowed. It was the only way they could sleep at night—believing that my downfall was just a matter of time. Chloe had a look of triumph on her face. She tapped her phone screen. “I have a friend who works at the bank, Sam. I had her run a soft check on your known accounts. They’re empty! No savings, no portfolios. That thirty million? It’s all debt, isn’t it?” She turned to my parents, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Uncle, Auntie… you poor things. You raised a narcissist. He’s going to be in prison by next Christmas, and you’ll be paying off his interest until the day you die.” My father swayed. My mother caught him, her face like paper. They looked at me, their eyes filled with a terrifying doubt. “Sam,” my father whispered. “Tell me the truth. Where did the money come from?” “Dad, Mom,” I said, looking them in the eye. “Trust me. That money is mine. Every cent is clean.” “Yours?” Chloe mocked. “Still lying even when you’re caught!” She stepped closer to the table, her eyes wild with a need to destroy me. “If you’re so rich, Sam, let’s settle this. Let’s go to the bank. Right now. In front of everyone. A full asset disclosure.” She puffed out her chest. “I’ll even make it fair. We won’t count the things my dad bought me. Just personal liquid savings. I’ve got over three million in my personal account.” The relatives let out a choreographed “wow.” “Three million! At her age?” “She’s a superstar. A real Miller.” Chloe basked in it. She pointed at me. “If you lose, Sam, you get on your knees. You apologize to every person in this room for being a fraud. And then,” her eyes turned vicious, “you walk through the neighborhood naked, wearing a sign that says ‘I AM A PARASITE.’” “Do you have the guts?” The room erupted. “Do it! Make him pay!” My parents were being crowded out. My mother was crying. But suddenly, my father stood tall. He pulled me back, putting himself between me and the vultures. “Sam said the money is his,” he said, his voice trembling but clear. “We believe him. But he’s already spent so much on us… he doesn’t need to prove anything to you people. We’re leaving.” My heart ached with pride. But I also felt a surge of cold anger. I knew my balance. After the car and the estate, I was down to my last two hundred thousand dollars in that specific account. If I agreed to the bet right now, I would lose. My hesitation was blood in the water. Chloe’s eyes lit up. “He’s scared! I was right! He’s probably already on a credit blacklist. He’s a deadbeat!” George hammered the table. “David, look at what you’ve produced! A disgrace to the name! You two must have done something truly cursed in a past life to end up with a son like this.” He shook his head, then looked at Chloe with sickening pride. “And then look at my Chloe. So successful. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to father such a winner.” A few sycophants laughed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, George!” I stared at George’s smug, hypocritical face. The words just tumbled out. “The apple doesn’t fall far? Are you sure? Because looking at her, I’d say she fell from a completely different tree. Maybe one in the neighbor’s yard?” [Spite Value +10,000] [ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS deposited.] I froze. My brain stalled. I looked up, stunned, and saw Chloe’s face go a shade of white I’d never seen before. “Shut your damn mouth!” she screamed. “Are you in or out? Answer me!” Every eye was on me. I looked at her, then at George. My lips slowly curled into a wide, exhilarated grin. “I’m in,” I said. “And Chloe? Try not to cry when the truth comes out.” My mind was racing. George worshiped Chloe. She was his “legacy.” But that ten-thousand-point spike? That was massive. More spite than I’d ever generated with a single sentence. Was it possible… was the “neighbor’s yard” comment more than just a jab? I looked at them. Chloe had a high, thin nose and sharp lips. George had a flat bridge and thick, heavy features. I’d always assumed it was some recessive gene from her mother’s side. Now, everything looked… off. George had no idea. The way he looked at her was pure, unadulterated fatherly love. As the caravan of cars headed to the bank, I leaned in close to Chloe, whispering so only she could hear. “You don’t really look like him, do you, Chloe?” [Spite Value +100] She stiffened. Her eyes were murderous. I raised my hands, grinning. “Hey, just a joke! Don’t take it to heart.” “You’re a dead man, Sam,” she hissed, picking up her pace. I followed leisurely. “You seem tense. Did I hit a nerve?” Her jaw was twitching. “I’m going to ruin you.” [Spite Value +100] I stayed quiet until the bank doors were in sight. Then, one last time, I leaned in. “Is his name Bill? The guy across the street from your old house?” Thwack!

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On my birthday, my husband insisted on “christening” our brand-new G-Wagon with a bit of backseat reckless abandon. The result? A dented fender and a very expensive repair bill. I was so livid I kicked him out of the master bedroom. Little did I know, the man—in all his dramatic glory—decided to log onto his company’s official social media account to lament his plight: “Accidentally wrecked the wife’s new ride and now I’m banned from the bedroom. Any advice, guys?” I was somewhere between laughing and rolling my eyes, ready to let him back in, when the notification on my phone changed everything. In my department’s intern Slack group, a new girl tagged me. Her message was a public interrogation: “Nora, why are you posting photos of my car? Is the jealousy that bad? Are you really trying to clout-chase off my life?” I realized then that in my rush to get to work, the photo I meant to send to the dealership for repairs had ended up in the group chat. Before I could even type a response, she fired off a barrage of photos—her hand on the wheel of a G-Wagon, various videos proving it was “hers.” Then came the venom: “Some people are truly shameless. You think taking a sneaky pic of a car you can’t afford makes you the next Mrs. Montgomery? Poor thing. It’s pathetic.” I frowned, looking at the man sleeping on the sofa next to me. “Cyrus,” I muttered. “Is there a second Mrs. Montgomery I should know about?” 1 Because I was late for my shift at Metropolitan General, I’d accidentally dropped the photo of my damaged fender into the intern mentorship thread instead of the private message to my mechanic. By the time I noticed, the chat was already a dumpster fire. “Holy crap! A custom G-Class with a starlight headliner? The mods alone cost six figures. Dr. Nora, you’re low-key loaded!” “I had no idea our lead resident was a trust-fund kid. Respect.” “What do your parents do, Nora? That’s a five-hundred-thousand-dollar beast.” The messages scrolled by at lightning speed—dozens of questions about my family, my salary, my life. A few male interns even slid into my DMs asking to “grab dinner and talk shop.” I sighed, typing out a quick, weary explanation: “I’m not a trust-fund kid. It was just a birthday gift from my husband. Let’s get back to the patient charts, everyone…” I hadn’t even hit send on the follow-up when Hailey, the newest intern, exploded onto the screen. “Nora, why are you posting photos of my car? Are you that desperate for attention?” “‘Birthday gift from your husband’? Are you really trying to LARP as a billionaire’s wife right now?” “I knew I shouldn’t have driven that car to the hospital. Having people like you sneak photos of it just to flex is so trashy. Gross.” I stared at the screen, genuinely bewildered. “Are you talking to me, Hailey?” I typed. “You must be mistaken. Maybe our cars just look similar?” She didn’t reply for a few seconds. Instead, she flooded the chat with selfies of her in the driver’s seat of a G-Wagon, videos of her hand on the steering wheel, and shots of the custom interior. Her tone turned even more mocking: “My starlight headliner is a bespoke one-of-one design. You’re a resident on a hospital salary—how do you have the nerve to say it looks ‘similar’?” “Following my car to take a photo just to claim it’s yours? Why stop there? Go take a selfie in front of the White House and tell everyone you’re the President.” The shift in the group chat was instantaneous. The same interns who were praising me seconds ago turned on a dime. “Dr. Nora, this is… yikes. If you’re broke, just be broke. You don’t have to do all this.” “The second-hand embarrassment is real. Imagine getting caught by your own intern.” “I didn’t realize vanity was a side effect of residency. Is she going to teach us how to lie to patients next? Lol.” The comments became increasingly snide. Someone even tagged me, demanding I apologize to Hailey for “stealing her content.” I gritted my teeth and tagged Hailey directly: “How did you get inside my car? When were these videos taken?” I had personally helped design the starlight pattern in my car. It was unique. The moment Hailey posted those clips, I knew she was sitting in my vehicle. Hailey: [Can you have some dignity? You’re still claiming it’s yours? Do I need to drive it to your face and honk the horn for you to shut up?] “If it’s really your car,” she challenged, “tell everyone what color the interior is right now.” “Gray,” I replied confidently. It was the color I’d chosen when we bought it. The next second, Hailey posted a selfie. She was lounging in the passenger seat, and the leather was a bright, obnoxious bubblegum pink. She practically laughed through the text: “Like I said, trashy people always trip over their own lies! It was gray when you took your little stalker photo, but I had the entire interior redone in pink yesterday.” “What’s the matter, Nora? Can’t find a pink version on Google Images fast enough?” The chat erupted. Everyone was convinced. “Dr. Nora looks so cold and professional, but she’s actually a total clout-demon. I feel bad for whoever she’s mentoring.” “Taking photos of a girl’s car and lying about it… I wonder if her medical degree is fake too. You hear about these female doctors sleeping their way to the top all the time, right?” The rumors were spiraling into disgusting territory. I was about to fire back when a nurse tapped my shoulder—emergency in the OR. I didn’t have time for interns. I locked my phone and ran. 2 By the time I stepped out of the OR, it was late afternoon. As I walked into the main lobby, I saw a delivery guy struggling with a massive, overflowing bouquet of yellow roses. He was shouting over the crowd: “Delivery for Mrs. Montgomery! Is there a Mrs. Montgomery here? Flowers from Mr. Montgomery!” A small smile tugged at my lips. Cyrus and I had bickered this morning, and we’d been in a cold war all day. Yellow roses meant friendship and an apology. It was his way of saying I’m sorry for being a brat. I started toward the delivery guy. “I’ll take those. I’m Mrs. Mon—” “Don’t you dare touch my flowers!” Before I could reach the bouquet, Hailey lunged forward, shoving me aside. She glared at me with pure vitriol. “Nora, do you have any shame at all? First you try to steal my car’s identity, now you’re trying to claim my flowers? Get a life!” I stumbled back, my patience finally snapping. “Hailey, stop this. Those are my flowers.” “Hahaha!” Hailey’s little clique of interns—the same ones from the chat—gathered around her, pointing and laughing. “Seriously, Nora? Give it up. A bouquet that size costs more than your monthly rent. Only Hailey’s billionaire husband could afford this. You think anyone is sending you flowers? In those orthopedic shoes?” “It’s honestly sad. The way she just tries to insert herself into Hailey’s life. It’s pathetic.” “Hailey is being so graceful about this. If it were me, I’d have called security by now.” Hailey blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, stop it, you guys. I told Cyrus to keep our marriage private, but I guess he just can’t help himself.” “My husband is the heir to the Montgomery Group,” she added, her voice loud enough for the whole lobby to hear. “He’s very high-profile. He gets hounded by people constantly, which is why I try to keep a low profile at work.” I was staring at her, genuinely worried she was having a psychotic break. “If your ‘husband’ is so powerful, why are you an intern? And why is he letting you drive someone else’s car?” “What would you know?” Hailey snapped, stepping closer. “I’m building my own career. I’m independent.” “Independent?” I scoffed. “You’re a fraud. If you were a Montgomery, you wouldn’t be stealing my car for TikToks.” “You want to hear his name?” Hailey’s face was flushed. “It’ll give you a heart attack. My husband is Cyrus Montgomery.” I froze for a heartbeat. “Cyrus Montgomery?” “Exactly! Don’t you ever speak his name again.” I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. “Did you marry him in a dream, Hailey? Or was it a hallucination?” “How dare you!” She shrieked. “My husband will ruin you for this!” I cut her off, my voice turning ice-cold. “I don’t know who you’re talking to, but I know one thing: Cyrus Montgomery is my husband. And if you don’t stop using his name to scam people, he won’t be the one you need to worry about. I will.” Hailey’s face went from red to purple. “You’re delusional! I’m calling him right now. I’m going to have him come here and personally fire you!” She pulled out her phone and hit speaker. “Hey, baby,” she cooed into the phone. “Can you come to the hospital? There’s this psycho doctor here who’s harassing me and claiming she’s your wife. It’s so scary, please hurry…” A man’s voice came through the speaker—deep, arrogant, and vaguely familiar. “Who the hell thinks they can touch my woman? I’m ten minutes away. I’ll handle it.” Hailey hung up and smirked at the crowd. “Nobody leave. When my husband gets here, there’s going to be a reckoning.” I looked at Hailey’s smug face and then down at my own phone. I sent a quick text to the real Cyrus: Get to the hospital lobby. Now. There’s a comedy show you don’t want to miss. Cyrus replied instantly: On my way. I leaned back against the reception desk. This was going to be interesting. 3 While we waited, Hailey’s ego reached a fever pitch. She clutched the yellow roses like a trophy and walked up to me. “Nora, I get it. You’re from some middle-class background and you’re desperate for status. But lying about my marriage? That’s a bridge too far.” “You’re going to get down on your knees and apologize. And you’re going to sign a statement saying you’ll never use my name for clout again, or my husband will sue you into the dirt.” I almost choked on my own tongue. “You want me to kneel?” The other interns chimed in like a Greek chorus of idiots. “Hailey, you’re too nice. Only an apology? She should be banned from the medical board!” “Seriously, Nora, the Montgomerys aren’t people you mess with. Just kneel now before Mr. Montgomery gets here. Maybe he’ll show mercy.” “I heard he hates the spotlight. The fact that he’s coming here for Hailey proves how much he loves her. You’re done, Nora.” It was true that Cyrus avoided the press. He was private, almost reclusive, which apparently gave these people the perfect cover to build this fantasy. “I’d love to see who exactly isn’t going to show me mercy,” I said, crossing my arms. The lobby suddenly went quiet. The hospital director and several board members were rushing toward the entrance. “Mr. Montgomery! Sir! We had no idea you were coming!” The director was practically bowing. “What a surprise! Thank you again for the thirty-million-dollar equipment grant. The whole hospital is in your debt.” I looked toward the door. It was Cyrus. He was wearing a charcoal suit, looking every bit the formidable billionaire he was. He strode into the lobby, his expression unreadable. Hailey’s friend, Sarah, scurried forward to greet him. “Mr. Montgomery, you really do adore your wife. The moment you heard she was upset, you flew here!” She pointed excitedly at Hailey. “Look! She’s been waiting for you!” Cyrus glanced at Hailey for a split second, his brow furrowing in confusion. Then his eyes found mine. “Wife,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Come here.” The lobby went dead silent. Everyone turned to Hailey, waiting for her to move. 4 Hailey stood frozen. Her face had gone from smug to a ghostly, sickly pale. The director, thinking Hailey was just starstruck, gently nudged her toward Cyrus. “Go on, Hailey! Don’t be shy. Mr. Montgomery is calling you.” He looked at Cyrus with a sycophantic grin. “We had no idea your wife was one of our interns! Dr. Hailey is—well, she’s certainly made an impression. Why, just yesterday she—” “Who the hell is she?” Cyrus’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He didn’t even look at the director; his eyes were locked on me. “Nora, I’m talking to you. Why are you standing over there?”

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To ensure his mistress escaped justice, my lawyer husband leaked classified information. Two key witnesses were brutally murdered without cause. I was branded with “dereliction of duty” and spent eight years locked away. The day I walked free, I pushed open the front door of my old home to find it brightly decorated. Michael stood in the center, impeccably dressed in a pristine white suit. His posture was as composed as ever. The host, beaming, led me to the living room’s center. “Miss Evelyn, today, in front of your friends and family, do you agree to remarry Mr. Michael Sterling?” He gazed at me with profound affection. “Evie, I’ve been waiting for you to come home all these years…” I looked at him with a cold stare. “How could a former convict with a criminal record ever be worthy of you?” … Michael’s body swayed suddenly, a faint, forced smile touching his lips. It was that same “devotion” he’d used to trick me into signing divorce papers when I was sentenced to prison years ago. The living room fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Evelyn! If you hadn’t gotten tangled in that mess back then, would Michael have needed to divorce to protect himself?” “Without Michael, we all would’ve been dragged down with you!” Michael’s sister, Scarlet, stepped forward, her voice sharp with accusation. “He’s giving you a chance now, accepting you, a ‘tainted’ woman. Shouldn’t you be grateful?” I glanced at her but said nothing. Years of endless incarceration had taught me to avoid arguments. My relatives, seeing my silence, assumed I was still the “easy target” I once was. They all wanted their moment to verbally abuse me. My aunt peered at me with a sidelong glance, her voice shrill. “Someone who’s been to prison, like you, used to be like a rat in the street.” “It’s only Michael who still wants you, otherwise, we would’ve long removed your father’s memorial tablet from the family crypt!” My cousin chimed in from beside her. “Exactly! Because of your carelessness, two lives were lost back then!” “Michael has been cleaning up your mess all these years, otherwise, you wouldn’t have even made it out of prison!” They had clearly been bought off by Michael, even more shameless than before. My carelessness caused the witnesses’ deaths? I almost laughed aloud. The night before the operation eight years ago. Michael had uncharacteristically questioned me about the location of the witness safe house and their transfer routes. I was suspicious and, naturally, refused, citing confidentiality. But on the eve of their departure, he insisted I drive his car, claiming it was more discreet and safer. Yet, that car already had a bug planted in it by him. All because my investigation target was Serena Thorne, his first love. Serena was suspected of multiple major international money laundering cases and was labeled as the prime suspect by law enforcement. Michael, for her sake, didn’t hesitate to put me and the witnesses in dire peril. As the vehicle drove along a mountain road, we were subjected to a precise ambush! Gunshots erupted from all sides, and the witnesses perished. Colleagues on the mission fell one after another before my eyes. Before the case investigation began, he knelt on the ground, clutching my hand, and pleaded desperately, holding out a CT scan. “Evie, we’re having a baby, I can’t let anything happen to me…” For the sake of our child, I bore the charge of “dereliction of duty.” But on the day the verdict was delivered, he pushed a divorce agreement, leaving me with nothing, across the table. “I already had the child aborted. I don’t want them to have a criminal for a mother.” “And your actions are affecting my legal career. Let’s get a divorce.” I furiously bent the pen, but couldn’t stop the nightmare from beginning. In prison, the charge of “causing the death of witnesses” made me a pariah. Moreover, Serena, who had escaped justice, specifically arranged for guards to give me “special attention.” Beatings, humiliation, and withheld meals were commonplace. I was tormented until I became disabled. My left abdomen was pierced by a sharpened plastic ruler, which would throb painfully when my emotions were volatile. My right palm was shattered by a hammer and could no longer fully extend or grip. I finally couldn’t hold back a scoff. I pulled up my shirt, revealing my scars one by one to everyone. The scattered murmurs instantly quieted, and Michael’s face twisted strangely. His eyes held complex emotions, like guilt, yet also impatience. “Everyone, let’s calm down a bit. Evie just got out, she might need some time to adjust.” “I’ll take good care of her during this time, so she can rediscover the warmth of a home.” At these words, my relatives immediately changed their tune, praising him. “Michael is truly a rare good man!” “Evelyn being able to marry Michael is indeed a blessing earned over several lifetimes!” Only I was familiar with his exquisite performance. Advancing by retreating, playing the role of the deeply wronged yet still devoted lover. Suddenly, his phone rang. He listened for only a few sentences before his expression drastically changed. He grabbed his suit jacket and rushed out without looking back. The relatives in the living room exchanged glances. I couldn’t be bothered with them. I turned and walked toward the master bedroom. On the bed lay several women’s dresses and jackets. In the bathroom, there were two sets of toiletries. I knew then that his “eight years of waiting” was nothing more than shacking up with Serena. Suddenly, my abdomen spasmed with pain. It seemed my old problem was flaring up again. I leaned against the wall and dialed 911 before losing consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital, surrounded by the acrid smell of disinfectant. My vision was a blurry white. “You’re finally awake.” An unfamiliar man’s voice sounded. I painfully turned my neck. Standing by the bed was a doctor in a white coat, a “Chief Physician” badge clipped to his chest. “I’m your attending physician, Dr. Hayes.” “You were… the officer who was incarcerated a few years ago, I know you.” “I can’t imagine what you suffered in prison.” I just smiled faintly, pulling at the wound on my face, and got up from the hospital bed to pay the bill. I walked to the floor where the organ transplant department was located. Passing a hospital room door, I suddenly stopped. It was Michael! A doctor stood beside him. “Serena Thorne’s family member, it’s already a miracle that Serena’s liver failure could be temporarily stabilized this time!” “But the liver transplant can’t be delayed any longer.” “I know! I know!” Michael’s voice was tearful. “Serena, just hold on a little longer…” I peered through the door crack, clearly seeing the pale, sunken face on the hospital bed. It was Serena, utterly devoid of the glamorous aura of a CEO. Time had taken everything—my love and her pride. Michael sobbed, trembling as he kissed Serena’s forehead. “Serena, Evelyn is out of prison.” “I had someone check. Her liver is a match for you. I’ll make her save you!” Serena on the bed shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “How could she be willing? We’re the ones who made her lose everything…” Outside the door, my blood seemed to freeze instantly. Finally, from their mouths, my suspicions of eight years were confirmed. They even got me out of prison, pretending to have a change of heart, all just to exploit me. I clenched my fists, wanting nothing more than to rush in and choke them both. “Serena, I’ll arrange everything. Don’t worry.” “Evelyn is a former officer, and you’re a critically ill patient. She should make the sacrifice for you.” “I’ll remarry Evelyn as soon as possible…” His voice dropped, suddenly imbued with a chilling malice. “Once she’s in the hospital for the ‘rescue,’ I’ll sign as her spouse to withdraw consent.” So, that was the reason he so publicly pushed for remarriage. I lost my balance and stumbled, accidentally bumping against the door. “Who’s out there?” I turned and hurried away, leaving the confused doctor behind. After paying the bill, I had only six hundred dollars left. I rented a sunless basement in the city’s outskirts. My criminal record barred me from all decent jobs, so I ended up hauling cargo at a logistics transfer station. Work started at four in the morning, my right hand useless, relying entirely on my left shoulder and back. After unloading each truck, the old wound in my abdomen would ache with agonizing intensity. Michael’s calls rang incessantly, like a death knell. I watched the name flicker on the screen, from initial pain to eventual numbness. I rejected, blocked, he’d get a new number, I’d block again. The cycle repeated. I never opened his text messages. Scarlet’s messages also came in one after another. First, she accused me of betraying Michael’s deep affection, then asked if I could be a match for Serena. I read them, my heart feeling as if it were being slowly sliced by a blunt knife. Finally, I dragged her number into the blacklist too. I thought if I hid like a rat in a sewer, they would eventually leave me alone. But I was wrong. Today, I arrived at the logistics station early as usual, waiting for tasks. The supervisor walked over, his face dark, and threw several crumpled bills hard at my face. “Take your dirty money and get out, now!” I froze, looking at him blankly. “What are you looking at? You cold-blooded animal who stands by and watches people die!” The supervisor spat on the ground, his eyes filled with undisguised hatred. Surrounding workers all looked over, their gazes strange, whispering amongst themselves. A worker I usually knew fairly well pulled out his phone and shoved it in front of me, righteously indignant. “What are you pretending to be dumb for! Your sister-in-law is waiting for your liver to save her life, are you even human?” “Pah! And you used to be a cop, you heartless monster!” On the phone screen, the local news headline was a bold, glaring title: [Former Officer Released From Prison Refuses to Help Dying Sister-in-Law; Critically Ill Relative Desperately Awaits Liver Donation] Below it were two photos: one a close-up of Scarlet lying in a hospital bed, her face pale. The other, surprisingly, was my old photo in police uniform from my academy days, standing with Scarlet. My heart skipped a beat. Scarlet was actually using her identity as my sister-in-law, pretending to be critically ill, to cooperate with Michael and pressure me through public opinion? The comment section was already a torrent of condemnation. But I knew no matter how I argued, it would be useless. Who would believe a jailed former officer? I bent down, my hands trembling as I picked up the five hundred dollars scattered on the ground. Step by step, I walked back to my dark, semi-basement apartment. As I reached the alley entrance, I immediately sensed something was wrong. Several people carrying cameras were blocking the doorway of my rental, peering inside. My heart tightened, and I instinctively turned to leave. “Hey! Over there! It’s Evelyn!” A shout, and the group swarmed towards me like sharks smelling blood. Long lenses and heavy cameras surrounded me, the blinding flashlights making it impossible to keep my eyes open. “Miss Evelyn! We heard you were in prison because you caused the death of witnesses?” “How much do you know about your sister-in-law Scarlet’s condition?” The questions grew sharper, more vicious with each one. I lowered my head, shielding my face with my arm, trying to push my way through. “No comment! Get out of my way!” “Evelyn, are you guilty?” “Your sister-in-law is only twenty-seven. Can you really bear to watch her die?” “Do you think since you’ve been to prison, you can just throw everything away, even basic human decency?” I was like a clown with nowhere to hide, utterly disheveled. The onlookers pointed and whispered, but no one dared to approach. Just then, the sound of a car engine broke through the crowd outside. The car door opened, and Michael stepped out. The reporters immediately turned their cameras on them. In front of the cameras, Michael instantly put on a worried expression, choking out: “Evie, she’s my own sister, how can you be so heartless?” “If you agree to save her, I’ll give you three million dollars and a mansion!” The reporters next to him chimed in, tears flowing readily. “How touching, Evelyn, how can you be so cruel?” Beyond endurance, my eyes burned red, every word steeped in blood and hatred. “I will request a retrial for the case from all those years ago! I’ll make all of you pay the price!” I glared at Michael. “You want my liver? You won’t get it even if I die!” Michael’s expression instantly froze, a hint of chilling malice emerging. He advanced on me, uttering a few words in a sinister whisper, squeezing them through his teeth. “Evelyn, you’re forcing my hand.” With that, he quickly sent a text message on his phone. Within a few minutes, scattered footsteps and commotion sounded from a distance. A group of enraged people pushed through the crowd, instantly surrounding me. They were the families of the victims from eight years ago. They had aged, looking even more haggard. But the hatred in their eyes was more furious than it had been in the courtroom then. “Evelyn! You murderer!” “If it weren’t for Michael, the lawyer, secretly funding us all these years, helping us through hard times.” “We would have been waiting at the prison gate, ready to stab you the moment you got out!” “You killed my son! You should have paid with your life ages ago!” “Now, asking you to donate a liver to save someone, that’s giving you a chance to atone!” “Yes! Donate the liver! You must! Otherwise, we’ll drag you to the hospital today!” Spittle and curses wove a net, trapping me firmly in the center. They had been manipulated by Michael, using both his benevolence and their hatred, becoming perfect examples of borrowed knives. “I’m innocent!” I screamed with all my might. “Michael planted a bug in my car. He was the one who tipped off Serena, causing the operation to be exposed…” “It’s not even Scarlet who needs the liver, it’s Serena!” When I mentioned Serena, the victims’ families grew even more agitated. “On the verge of death and still trying to slander others!” “Trying to shirk responsibility! No way!” I looked at the misled crowd, at the coldly smiling Michael, as a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. Michael looked down at me, hunched on the ground, with a patronizing gaze. “Evelyn, last time I’ll ask you: the liver, will you donate, or won’t you?” I lifted my tear-filled eyes, looking at the man who had ruined everything for me, and said, word by word, “The biggest regret of my life was marrying you.” Michael stiffened, standing still. “Hit her! Kill this heartless animal!” Someone shouted, and the crowd instantly erupted into violence! I curled up, protecting my vitals, but fists and feet rained down from all directions. My ribs thudded, my legs screamed in pain, and a stick struck my back. In the chaos, I heard Michael instructing: “Don’t hurt her liver area, that thing is still useful…” I screamed with all my might, pushing past someone, and scrambled to the main road, rolling and crawling! “Stop her! Don’t let her run!” I dragged my almost shattered body onto the middle lane of the road. The straight lane had a green light, and the screeching of brakes instantly filled the air! “Evelyn! What are you doing! Come back!” Michael’s panicked scream came from behind. I let out a relieved laugh, and leapt towards a rapidly approaching truck. Michael, I will never forgive you. He let out a chilling scream. “No! I don’t want you to donate anymore! Come back…” “Boom!” A massive crash resounded.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391208”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day Ethan returned to the States with his fiancée, I was in the hospital waiting to die. Six years. He was still in his crisp white coat, as handsome and refined as ever. I was leaning on crutches, reduced to skin and bones. The moment we ran into each other in the hospital corridor, the hatred surging in his eyes almost swallowed me whole. “Lily, is this what you’ve become after betraying me for money? A ghost?” I tugged at the oversized sleeves of my sweater, hiding the dense cluster of needle marks and dark bruises on my arms. “Yeah. Seeing me like this… you feel avenged now, don’t you?” His eyes darkened, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his clipboard. He let out a cold sneer. “Not even close.” Saying that, he pulled out a bank card and held it out to me. “I’m getting married. A hundred grand. Come be my bridesmaid.” I looked at the card and smiled, shaking my head. “No thanks. I’m going to die soon anyway, what do I need money for?” With that, I turned around and hobbled away on my crutches. 1 I leaned heavily on my crutches, inching my way out of the hospital step by agonizing step. The physical pain all over my body couldn’t compare to the crushing ache in my chest. Six years. I had finally seen Ethan again, but I was dying. And he was getting married. I thought back to when we were eighteen, how he carefully held my hand and confessed his feelings. We promised to get married after graduation, to spend the rest of our lives by each other’s side. Back then, I truly thought we would walk hand-in-hand through this life. Rapid footsteps echoed behind me. Someone grabbed my arm, the grip so fierce it felt like my bones would shatter. “Lily, explain yourself. What do you mean you’re dying?” Ethan’s voice was frantic, trembling with panic as his grip tightened involuntarily. My crutch almost slipped from my hand. I winced in pain, forcing myself to stay upright. He suddenly seemed dazed, murmuring in a trance. “Lily… why are you so thin?” I used to have baby fat on my cheeks. Whenever I said I wanted to diet, he would buy my favorite cupcakes and wait outside my dorm. I’d eat them while complaining that he was the biggest stumbling block on my weight-loss journey. He would always wipe the frosting from the corner of my mouth with a helpless smile. “Why diet? You’re not fat at all. And no matter what you look like, I’ll always love you.” Now, I was thin, and the person who used to ruin my diets didn’t belong to me anymore. Just as I was about to speak, his fiancée, Sarah, caught up to us. She hooked her arm through Ethan’s, her voice gentle as she tried to “persuade” me: “Lily, you were just talking out of anger, right?” “You can’t just say things like that. No matter what, you shouldn’t joke about life and death.” Her words had hidden needles, masking a deeply concealed fear. Fear that I would expose the truth of what happened back then. Fear of losing Ethan. Looking at the sheer defensiveness on her face, I found it almost laughable. I looked at Ethan, my eyes exhausted but filled with lingering longing. “I meant it literally. Ethan, I have a terminal illness. There is no cure. I don’t have much time left.” As soon as the words left my mouth, tears pricked my eyes, but I ruthlessly forced them back. Ethan looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He stared at me dead on, searching my face for any trace of a lie. But all he could see was a sickly, deathly pallor. I was so emaciated I barely looked like myself. A stark contrast to the vibrant, lively girl he remembered from six years ago. Back then, I would scream my lungs out cheering for him by the basketball court. I would drag him out hiking and camping on the weekends. But now, inside this broken body, even standing for an extra minute took every ounce of strength I had. The shock hit him so hard that he instinctively let go of me. Losing my support so suddenly, I stumbled back two steps and nearly fell. Thankfully, I still had my crutches to brace myself, saving me from a far more humiliating fall in front of him. As soon as I steadied myself, I met Ethan’s bloodshot eyes. They were filled with absolute disbelief. And… a trace of agony. My heart contracted with a dense, stinging pain. Sarah’s face darkened completely. Taking a deep breath, she stepped in front of Ethan, blocking his view of me. When she spoke, her tone was that of someone offering a high-and-mighty handout. “Lily, would you mind telling us what kind of terminal illness it is?” “Don’t misunderstand, Ethan and I met quite a few top specialists while we were overseas. Maybe there’s still hope.” But her eyes practically screamed that she couldn’t wait for me to drop dead. “None of your business.” I looked past her, fixing my gaze on Ethan, who stood frozen solid behind her. Tugging at the corners of my mouth, I gave him a smile that looked worse than crying. “Dr. Evans, welcome back to the States. And… congratulations on the wedding.” With that, using every last bit of my strength, I turned around and hobbled painfully toward the exit. Not a single sound came from behind me. But I knew Ethan was standing frozen in place. Just like six years ago, when I heartlessly told him I didn’t love him anymore and told him to get out of my life, He had stood in that exact spot for a very, very long time. Stepping out of the hospital doors, the sunlight was blinding, but all I felt was a biting cold. The agonizing pain in my body was a constant reminder that Ethan and I were long over. It’s just… before I died, I wanted to look at him a few more times. 2 Ethan tracked down my rented apartment. As a doctor, pulling strings to look at my medical records wasn’t difficult for him. Looking around my cramped studio, cluttered with endless pill bottles, his face was livid. “Lily! What the hell is going on?! Where are your parents? Why are they letting you live in a dump like this?” His voice was filled with explosive rage, laced with an almost imperceptible trace of pity. I lay paralyzed on my small bed, completely drained of energy, and said nothing. He marched over to the bedside, his bloodshot eyes locking onto me. “Answer me! Where are they?” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. My throat burned raw. “Dead.” Ethan froze in place, as if all the strength had been instantly siphoned from his body. “When?” I tried my best to keep my voice flat and normal. “The third year after you left. My dad passed away in an accident. Mom couldn’t handle the grief and followed him.” I lied. My dad died from this exact same disease. When he found out Ethan was going to medical school in Europe, he began refusing treatment. Holding my hand, he would repeat over and over: “It can’t be cured. Stop wasting the money.” “Ethan is out there all alone, it’s not easy for him… you need to wire some money to him.” I couldn’t change his mind, nor could I change my mother’s, who wept silently but stood by his decision. Later, under the guise of an alumni scholarship, I anonymously wired the majority of our family’s savings to Ethan. But I couldn’t say any of this. If I did, Ethan would piece the truth together and plunge into a bottomless abyss of guilt. Hearing my words, the color drained completely from Ethan’s face. He swayed, stumbling a step backward. I knew he was in immense pain right now. When Ethan was ten, his parents died in a car crash. My parents took him in and raised him exactly like their own son. We were supposed to be a perfectly happy family. The year he went abroad, he thought my parents were perfectly healthy and would be around for decades. But during the six years of his intentional distancing, everything had turned to ash. His hand trembled as he forcefully shoved a credit card into my palm, his voice incredibly hoarse. “Use this for your treatments. Lily, don’t make me feel like you’re using your death to manipulate my pity!” Looking at the card, my chest tightened so hard I felt like I was suffocating. Someone destined for the grave didn’t need him wasting so much money. I forced myself to push the card back, my tone calm. “Keep it, Dr. Evans. You know better than anyone. My disease has no cure.” I don’t know which word triggered him, but he violently swatted my hand away. The card clattered to the floor. “I don’t know anything! Get the damn treatment! Stop acting so high and mighty! Lily, let me tell you, even if you die, I will still hate you!” Silence fell over the room the second the words left his mouth. Hate me. He had every right to. But hearing him say it out loud tore me apart from the inside out. Just then, the door creaked open, and Sarah walked in. She saw the credit card on the floor and sensed the suffocating tension between me and Ethan. “Ethan, why are you arguing with Lily again?” “She’s a patient, her emotions are bound to be unstable. You have to be patient with her.” She gently looped her arm through Ethan’s, her voice soft and soothing. Ethan kept his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead in silence. Sarah didn’t seem angry. She knelt down, picked up the card, and placed it delicately on my nightstand. While Ethan wasn’t looking, she leaned in close to my ear. In a voice only the two of us could hear, she mocked: “See that? Even if he pities you, he still despises you.” “Lily, since you’re destined to die, don’t you dare let him know the truth and ruin his life with guilt before you go!” It felt like a pair of hands were ripping my heart in two. The pain made me dizzy. Ethan seemed to notice something was off, looking irritated as he pulled Sarah away. He looked at me, his eyes an unreadable mess of conflict and stubborn obsession, his tone commanding: “Pack your things. You’re going to the hospital!” “I’ve already contacted the specialists. You are getting treated!” It was as if he didn’t even know whether he wanted to save me, or just prove that I wasn’t as miserable as I looked. Or maybe, he just couldn’t accept that the woman he had hated for six years was about to die. Looking at his jaw, tight with anger and a bizarre, unnamable confusion, I suddenly remembered what Sarah had said to me six years ago, back when she was just his senior mentor in med school. “Lily, Ethan is a medical prodigy. He has a brilliant, limitless future ahead of him.” “Do you really have the heart to let your family’s genetic curse drag him down? To ruin his chance to study abroad?” “Your dad is already showing symptoms. You’re next! Do you have any idea how much the medical bills will cost?” “Are you going to make him spend the rest of his life as a walking zombie, working himself to death just to pay for you and your father?” My dad had just been diagnosed then. Sarah happened to be interning at that hospital, so she found out. And so, I chose to push him away with my own two hands. Now, he was back, carrying his hatred for me alongside his fiancée. And I really was going to die. 3 Ethan ruthlessly bypassed my protests, transferring me into a private VIP suite at his hospital. He pulled in a team of elite specialists for daily consultations. He came by every day, his brow furrowed as he poured over my lab results and debated treatment protocols with the experts. The boy I knew was gone; in his place was a man who commanded authority and exuded an oppressive presence. Sarah was always by his side, playing the role of the devoted fiancée to perfection. When Ethan was around, she’d ask if I was cold or hungry. But the second his back was turned, her eyes would shoot daggers at me. Occasionally, when we were left alone, she would lean in and hiss. “Why aren’t you dead yet?” “You being alive is such a goddamn inconvenience, Lily!” I would just close my eyes and pretend I was deaf. Sometimes, though, I noticed something strange. Ethan was polite to Sarah, but incredibly distant. They didn’t act like an engaged couple. There was no intimacy, barely even any casual conversation. Once, I saw Ethan subconsciously flinch and pull his arm away when she tried to hold his hand. My heart did a tiny flutter, but I violently crushed the hope before it could bloom. I was dying. What right did I have to hope for anything? One afternoon, Ethan stood by my bed in total silence for a long time. He stared at me, his gaze incredibly complex. I couldn’t read him at all. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but couldn’t get the words out. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, rubbed his temples, and asked Sarah to step outside. I could hear the muffled sounds of them arguing in the hallway. A few minutes later, the door was shoved open and slammed shut. Sarah walked in alone. Her gentle, caring mask had completely melted off, leaving nothing but twisted, ugly jealousy. She stormed over to my bed and grabbed the collar of my hospital gown. Her eyes were red, her breathing ragged. “Lily! You psychotic bitch! Why won’t you just let go?!” “Look at you! You look like a corpse, and you’re still trying to seduce him?” “He spends all day obsessing over your charts, running around for you, and now he just laid his cards on the table with me!” “I’m telling you right now, I am not letting you get away with this! Even if you die, I will make sure you die miserable!” She shook me so hard my vision went completely black. My chest felt like it was caving in; I had zero strength to fight back. I didn’t even have the mental capacity to process what she meant by Ethan “laying his cards on the table.” Having vented her rage, she let go of me, turned on her heel, and stormed out with a hateful glare. I collapsed heavily against the mattress, gasping for air as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I thought that was the end of it. But I severely underestimated Sarah’s malice. The next morning, Ethan walked into my room. His face was a thundercloud. He was gripping a stack of printed papers so tightly his knuckles were white. Without saying a word, he hurled the papers violently onto my chest. I was stunned. Confused, I weakly picked them up. They were printed screenshots of text messages between me and someone named “Noah.” The texts showed Noah sending me massive cash transfers, and me playfully begging him for designer bags and jewelry. The tone was sickeningly sweet and intimate. There was even a message from me saying, “I’m waiting for you to come back.” Noah. That was my distant cousin. The “rich sugar daddy” I had recruited six years ago to help me fake my infidelity. Ethan had spent the last six years believing I dumped him to be Noah’s trophy girlfriend. These screenshots were blatant, meticulously crafted forgeries. Ethan stared at me with bloodshot eyes, his chest heaving. His eyes were a raging inferno of fury and betrayal. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Lily?! You’re still messing around with him?!” “You’re lying here in a hospital bed, watching me run myself ragged trying to save your life, while you’re texting him?!” “Do you think I’m a complete fucking idiot?!” I opened my mouth to explain, to tell him it was a setup, but the overwhelming panic and physical weakness locked my vocal cords. I couldn’t make a sound. “I don’t want your excuses! Stop playing me!” He cut off my silent protests, grabbing my chart and the incredibly expensive treatment plan from the nightstand. Right in front of my eyes, he ripped them into tiny, jagged shreds. The confetti of torn paper rained down over my bed, scattering across my face and blanket. Each piece felt like a razor blade slicing through my skin. His voice cracked, filled with apocalyptic, destructive madness. “Then rot away with your disease!” “If you need anything from now on, call your sugar daddy to pay for it!” “I must have lost my damn mind to come back here and care about you!” With a brutal finality, he turned and walked out. He didn’t look back once. Sarah appeared right on cue, linking her arm through his, her voice a soft purr. “Don’t be mad, Ethan. A woman like her isn’t worth it.” “Let’s just go home.” Ethan ripped his arm out of her grasp and walked down the hall alone. Sarah looked humiliated for a split second. Before she followed him, she turned and shot a look into my room. It was a look of pure, concentrated venom. A look of victorious, mocking triumph. The heavy door clicked shut, severing my view of Ethan’s retreating back forever. I lay there staring at the torn pieces of paper covering my bed. I looked at the dark bruises and needle marks tracking up both my arms. Six years of unbearable suffering couldn’t compare to a fraction of the agony of hearing him tell me to “rot.” I suddenly felt incredibly tired. Reaching over to the IV port in my hand, I didn’t hesitate for a second. I pulled the needle out. I lay back down quietly and closed my eyes. Let it be. Ethan, I’ll give you exactly what you want. Me and my disease will rot away right here. 4 I don’t know how long I floated in the dark. Until a piercing, high-pitched alarm began drilling into my ears, accompanied by chaotic shouting and the frantic pounding of running feet. Then, I felt my body being violently shaken. I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids were made of lead. “Lily! Lily, wake up!” It was Ethan. His voice was destroyed—hoarse, terrified, and laced with an unbelievable, desperate anger. “Do you really want to die this badly?!” “Is it because of Noah?! He found out you were terminally ill and dumped you, so now you’re just throwing your life away?!” Noah again. That name was like a rusted padlock. It locked away Ethan’s rationality, and it locked away my final, fading shred of a will to live. I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to tell him I had never, ever loved anyone else. But using every last drop of strength in my soul, I only managed to flutter my eyes open a fraction of an inch. In my blurred vision, I saw his face. It was completely distorted by grief. A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye. It carried all my unsaid love and the endless, crushing injustice I had swallowed. Drawing the very last breath of air left in my lungs, I pushed the words out, syllable by agonizing syllable: “Ethan… I… never…” Never betrayed you. Never loved anyone else. Never stopped loving you. I didn’t have the strength to say the rest. The metallic taste of blood flooded my throat. Every heartbeat felt like hot coals in my chest. I couldn’t hold on anymore. The heart monitor let out a continuous, ear-splitting scream. The red numbers on the screen flatlined. “Patient is in V-fib! Prepare to defibrillate!” “Dr. Evans, your emotional state… get him out of here!” I felt someone forcefully dragging Ethan away from my bed, pulling him out of the room. That’s good, I thought. At least he won’t have to watch me die in such an ugly way. A team of doctors swarmed over me. The violent jolt of the defibrillator… the rush of epinephrine… But my senses were peeling away, layer by layer. My strength and body heat bled out into the sheets. The darkness rushed in from all sides, swallowing me whole. But for the first time, I felt incredibly light. It was nice. I could finally rest. … I don’t know how much time passed, but the room went terrifyingly quiet. The urgency, the shouting, the alarms—it all vanished. Replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence. The attending physician pulled down his surgical mask, looking at Ethan with a heavy shake of his head. “Dr. Evans, we… we did everything we could. Time of death has been called.” Death. The word hit Ethan with the force of a wrecking ball. He swayed dangerously. The door was shoved open. Ethan stood in the doorway like a statue drained of its soul. His face was ash-gray, his eyes totally hollow. He moved step by excruciating step toward the bed. Every inch seemed to take a superhuman effort. Looking down at the emaciated, silent shell on the bed, his entire body began to violently tremble. He reached out. His fingertips, devoid of any warmth, gently brushed against Lily’s equally ice-cold cheek. Suddenly, his eyes snagged on something resting near her pillow. A worn journal. It must have slipped out from under her pillow during the violent resuscitation efforts. It was the diary that held six years of her longing, her agony, her despair, and her untold sacrifices. With shaking hands, Ethan picked it up. He stared at the cover, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow hyperventilation.

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