Category: English

I was late for school and forced to stand in the hallway as punishment. The school’s notorious bad boy, seeing my predicament, wouldn’t stop pestering me for my name. Thinking quickly, I gave him the name of the school’s top scholar instead. The bad boy looked thoughtful. During Monday’s assembly, while reading his “reflection essay” for past misdeeds, the bad boy added a line at the end: “Julian Ji, I liked you the moment I saw you. I want the whole school to know, you belong to me!” Amidst the screaming crowd, I clapped until my hands were red: “Love is love! I support it!” 1 I knew the guy running around on stage shouting into the microphone. It was Jax Zhou, the school bully. Bleached hair, ears full of piercings, uniform worn like a rag—the school’s famous delinquent. I knew the person he was confessing to even better. My deskmate, Julian Ji. Already accepted into a top university, he transferred to our mediocre high school for the last three months just to “experience life.” Both of them got called to the principal’s office. The principal is such a dinosaur. It’s the 21st century; a little bromance between boys is totally normal. 2 While squatting in the bathroom, I overheard two girls discussing today’s drama. “Who do you think is the top and who’s the bottom?” “I prefer the pretty boy top.” “You think Julian is the top? But Jax is taller, and he’s not ugly either.” “Sigh, you don’t get it. Listen…” Their voices dropped to a whisper. I pressed my ear against the stall wall but couldn’t hear a thing. Classmates, what are you “getting”? Let me get it too! Speaking of Jax, I only put a face to the name a few days ago. Our school is famous for being chaotic. Fights, dating, skipping class—it’s all fair game. Being late usually meant sneaking in. But Jax, after getting caught himself, yelled, “Teacher! That late kid is trying to sneak in!” Resulting in me standing in the hallway as punishment. As he left, he grabbed my arm. “Hey, what’s your name?” He looked like he wouldn’t let go until I answered. Annoyed, I blurted out, “I’m Julian Ji, okay!” Jax seemed to chew on the name. I shook him off and ran. He shouted from behind, “Hey—Julian Ji! You didn’t tell me your class number!” Thinking back, my heart skipped a beat. This mess won’t come back to bite me, right? 3 The teacher called me to the office to give me this month’s financial aid. Three years ago, despite having scores good enough for the top high school in the city, I came to this bottom-tier school. I had no choice; they offered too much money. Back in the classroom, Julian was already in his seat. He looked calm and elegant, an air of nobility about him. Julian and I were sort of childhood friends. He grew up in a detached villa. I grew up in the maid’s quarters next to the villa. But kids play together regardless of status. Later, my grandma retired due to illness, and we moved to a cheap urban village. I hadn’t seen Julian since. Until this winter break, while I was busy working at a restaurant. A hesitant voice came from behind. “Stella He?” I turned around. A life-sized Julian was smiling at me. “It really is you.” Then, he transferred to our school. Said he wanted to “experience life.” I didn’t know what was so great about this life. This school was leagues below the top one. Thinking of this, I vaguely remembered that Jax’s family invested in this school. Just so Jax could have a proper high school diploma before going abroad. Julian threw a stack of workbooks at me, saying casually, “Bought too many. Don’t throw them away.” I accepted them with tears in my eyes. I really want to fight these rich people. 4 The school beauty, Chloe Chu, sat in front of us. She had wavy hair, cute cat eyes, and delicate hands with colorful manicures. But her mouth was venomous: “Stella, what’s the point of studying so hard? You’ll just end up working for me anyway.” Her family was in real estate. I chewed on my pen cap, pretending not to hear. Julian coldly pushed her hand off his desk. “Dirty.” Chloe had publicly confessed to Julian and been rejected. It was ugly. Now she had ammunition to mock him. “So the young master doesn’t like me because he likes men.” Julian was unfazed, treating her like air, continuing to explain a math problem to me. Chloe scoffed. “Nouveau riche and cold-blooded capitalist. Birds of a feather. Hope you live happily ever after.” I stopped Chloe, kindly reminding her, “Your family is nouveau riche too, but nobody wants you.” When Jax entered the classroom, Chloe was screeching, ready to slap me. He quickly blocked her sharp nails. “What are you doing? School rules say no fighting!” Funny coming from him. Considering his assembly speech was an apology for fighting street thugs. Facing two six-foot guys, Chloe slunk away resentfully. Julian glared immediately. “You again.” Jax didn’t look happy either. “Why are you haunting me?” I quickly stepped between them. “Calm down, calm down! Life is hard for everyone!” 5 The two of them fought in the principal’s office. Tacitly avoiding each other’s faces. Jax rolled up his sleeve pitifully. “Look, he bruised me.” “It’s all your fault for giving a fake name. You have to take responsibility.” Julian chuckled. “I didn’t hit you there. Stop faking it.” Seeing another argument brewing, I felt a headache coming on. I apologized to Jax first. “Sorry for lying the other day.” Then to Julian. “Sorry for ruining your reputation.” They said in unison, “Not your fault! It’s his fault!” Fine. Jax moved his desk behind mine and refused to leave. Claiming he needed to be influenced by top students. The principal couldn’t do anything, and the class went wild with screams. I won’t say who’s shipping who. I’m shipping them too. After school, I couldn’t shake Jax off. I sighed. “Jax, where are you following me to?” He can’t follow me to wash dishes. Jax blushed. “Even though I got the name wrong today, I actually like you.” I spoke righteously. “We’re in the critical period of senior year. I won’t date.” To make him give up, I added a strong dose. “And you’re not my type.” Jax got anxious. “What’s your type?” I looked him up and down, implying the opposite. “I like guys who study well, have black hair, and are serious.” The exact opposite of Jax. But he seemed happy. Dropping a “See you tomorrow,” he ran off faster than a rabbit. I quickly forgot about it. Pushing open the familiar restaurant door, I called out sweetly, “I’m here, Auntie.” Auntie poked her head out from the kitchen. “Stella, rest a bit after school.” I tied up my hair and dove into the kitchen to wash dishes. “It’s okay, Auntie. You pay me, not for resting.” Auntie sounded worried. “Two jobs a day… don’t ruin your health.” I smiled like a flower. “It’s fine, I’m not tired!” 6 When the teacher announced study groups, Julian wasn’t there. I put both our names down. Jax held my pen down, looking pitiful. “No one wants me. Can you help me study?” Jax had transformed. Blonde hair dyed back to black. Ear piercings gone. Shirt buttoned to the top, even added glasses. Looked like a total model student. I hesitated. Julian and Jax didn’t get along. And I needed Julian’s help with my studies. So I rejected him firmly. Jax’s eyes reddened instantly. “My parents never cared about me. Home is cold, so I play outside. At least people talk to me there.” “Now they want to dump me abroad. I really want to study hard and show them I’m not useless…” I was raised by my grandma. Parents were a sore spot for me. Jax spoke with such emotion, eyes misty. Finally, carried away by emotion, he said sincerely, “I can pay you five thousand a month for tutoring.” I grabbed his hand immediately. “Jax, it’s not about the money.” “Your story moved me. I won’t give up on any student who wants to improve!” “By the way, you can just transfer the fee to me!” Jax sniffled and smiled. “Then accept my friend request first, Teacher Stella.”

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I had just wrapped an international merger deal, and the jet lag felt like lead in my bones as I dragged my suitcase into the foyer. That’s when I saw them: a pair of men’s sneakers that absolutely did not belong here. Crisp, designer high-tops, a limited drop, and definitely not a small size. They were tossed carelessly by the door, a silent, arrogant declaration of the intruder’s presence. Almost instantly, the semi-transparent, relentless torrent of text that only I could see—The Feed—began to scroll across my vision. 【HOLY SHIT! The forced-love scene is finally here! Tristan’s making his move!】 【AHHHH! Tonight’s the night! Cook that rice, baby! Go, go, go!】 【Wait until that stuck-up mom gets home and loses it, LOL. Her daughter belongs to our Tristan now!】 I watched the words with an expressionless face. They swarmed like a cloud of buzzing, bloodthirsty gnats directly on my retina. 1 My name is Delaney Stone. I’m a commercial litigator, known for my ruthless precision in the courtroom, and a single mother. Three days ago, I woke up. I realized I was trapped inside a toxic young adult novel titled The Exclusive Obsession of the Campus Psychopath. My role? The villainous mother, Delaney, who tries to keep the main characters apart, only to be utterly destroyed—her life ruined, her daughter’s future devastated, and finally, herself dying wretchedly in a psychiatric facility—by the “blackened” male lead. My daughter, Maya, is the tragic heroine. She would be kidnapped, tormented, and eventually develop severe Stockholm Syndrome, mistaking her captivity and trauma for “undying love.” And the owner of the shoes by the door, Tristan Kael, was the male lead—the so-called “beautiful, powerful, and tragic” hero. A maniac who packaged stalking, harassment, and violent coercion as deep affection, and who romanticized his own obsession and possessiveness as salvation. I lifted my gaze toward my daughter’s tightly closed bedroom door. Faintly, I could hear muffled sobs and a boy’s impatient, low attempts at persuasion. The Feed kept scrolling. 【Don’t cry, Maya! Tristan loves you so much! Your mom is such a puritan, what does she know about real love?】 【Seriously, this mom needs to just die and stop getting in the way of our ship!】 【Hurry up, hurry up! I can’t wait for the forced-love payoff!】 I silently set down my suitcase, kicked off my high heels, and walked toward the kitchen, my bare feet sinking into the carpet. I didn’t call 911. I didn’t call building security. Against a rabid dog that skirts the edge of the law, conventional methods only serve to excite them further. From the utensil block, I took the weapon I’d bought specifically for processing large cuts of meat: a heavy-duty, razor-sharp bone cleaver. The blade glinted under the recessed lights, cold and unforgiving. The Feed seemed to sense the shift. It paused for a brief, shuddering moment. 【??? What is the mom doing? Is she grabbing a knife?】 【That’s not in the script! She’s supposed to be pounding on the door and begging the ML to let her daughter go!】 【Whoa, wait a second. Something is off. Her eyes look insane.】 I ignored them. I walked, step by calculated step, to Maya’s bedroom door. It was locked from the inside. “BOOM!” I lifted my foot and drove it, with all the focused force of a trained athlete, into the door right next to the lockset. The solid-core wooden door shuddered violently. The sounds from inside ceased immediately. “Who the hell is that!” Tristan’s voice, sharp with alarm and irritation, cut through the silence. The Feed exploded. 【WTF! She kicked the door?! This mom is unhinged!】 【Spicy! Is the plot twisting?! Author, get your ass in here!】 I offered no response. I simply stepped back, focused, and drove my heel into the same spot. “CRACK!” The second impact. A spiderweb of cracks formed in the wood around the shattered lock housing. “SMASH!” The third. The lock assembly disintegrated with a wrenching sound, and the door flew inward, slamming against the wall. The scene inside was instantly exposed. My daughter, Maya, was huddled on the corner of her bed, her school blouse torn open at the shoulder, tears streaming down her pale face. She was trembling uncontrollably. Tristan, the boy The Feed worshiped as the “God-Tier Campus King,” was straddling her, one hand pinning her wrist, the other reaching for a button on her top. He was clearly stunned by the sudden violence. He froze, his body rigid, and turned his head to stare at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. The-Feed-was-in-ecstasy. 【OMG, that position! Tristan is so Alpha!】 【The mom’s arrival is perfect! Let her watch her daughter become his!】 【Hurry, Tristan! Do it right now! That’ll really piss off the old hag!】 Tristan recognized me. The shock on his face rapidly curdled into a mix of contempt and aggressive provocation. He even managed a playful, wicked grin, leaning down to Maya’s ear and speaking just loud enough for me to hear. “Look, Maya. Mommy’s home. Should we… continue what we started, right here, in front of her?” Maya’s trembling intensified. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “You… let go of me…” “Let go of you?” Tristan scoffed, his gaze locked on mine in a pure act of defiance. “Look, Ma’am—don’t blame me. Maya and I are soulmates. You’re the one trying to tear us apart.” I looked at his face, flushed with adrenaline and dark excitement. I looked at the obscene comments scrolling before my eyes. Slowly, I raised the heavy cleaver in my hand. “What was that?” My voice was unnervingly quiet. “It’s loud in here. I didn’t quite catch that.” I aimed the blade directly at him. Tristan’s pupils constricted. He probably thought I was bluffing. The Feed did, too. 【What’s she doing? A middle-aged woman with a cleaver thinks she’s some kind of action star?】 【LOL. Does she really think she can touch a hair on our Tristan’s head?】 The very next second, I moved. I didn’t charge him. I simply whipped my wrist, putting every ounce of my body weight into the throw, sending the heavy bone cleaver flying. The blade cut a terrifying arc through the air, whooshing with the speed of its passage. Its target was not Tristan, but the heavy wrought-iron and crystal fixture directly above his head. “CLANG!” A deafening, metallic snap. The fixture’s main chain was precisely severed. The massive chandelier, dragging countless glass shards and wires, CRASHED! Tristan reacted on pure instinct, rolling off the bed and scrambling sideways, narrowly evading the impact. But Maya, pinned beneath him, was not so lucky. I would never hurt my daughter. In the instant the chandelier fell, I shot forward, grabbed the paralyzed Maya off the bed, and pulled her tight against me, shielding her body with my own. “KABOOM!” The crystal light fixture obliterated the mattress, turning the soft bed into a chaos of pulverized glass, twisted metal, and springs. Several shards of glass sliced Tristan’s cheek and arm, leaving bright red trails. He stared, dumbfounded, at the wreckage. If he had been half a second slower, he would have been crushed. The entire room fell into a deathly silence. The Feed stopped entirely. After a full five seconds, a single line of text appeared, shaky and hesitant. 【…she’s… she’s psychotic… this mom is a stone-cold lunatic…】 I held my daughter, who was still shaking violently, and stood up from the wreckage. My eyes, cold and assessing, settled on Tristan. He was clutching his bleeding face, and for the first time, his expression was a raw mix of terror and disbelief. “You…” I cut him off. I walked over, picked up the largest shard of glass near his feet—its edge was sharp enough to reflect his ashen face. I knelt down, and with that deadly piece of glass, I lightly tapped his cheek. “Now,” I looked him directly in the eye, asking, word for word, “Can you hear me clearly?” Tristan’s lips trembled. He stared at the shard of glass, which was easily capable of slitting his throat, and couldn’t utter a single sound. The contempt and swagger in his eyes had evaporated. Only fear remained. The pure, paralyzing fear one feels when confronted by a superior predator. 2 Tristan scrambled away, practically crawling. He even forgot his designer high-tops. The Feed was a scene of collective grief and bewilderment. 【I swear! My yandere hero just got scared off like a puppy? Character assassination!】 【What in God’s name is this mom’s background? She’s brutal! I thought she was going to murder him right there.】 【NGL, that was kind of hot? Psycho vs. Psycho?】 I didn’t care about The Feed, nor did I bother to chase Tristan. I knew he would be back. A narcissist and obsessive like him, whose ego was his universe, would never accept this humiliation. He would return for an amplified, vicious revenge. I shut the broken door, wedged the heavy sofa against it, and turned to hold my still-shaking daughter. “It’s alright, Maya. You’re safe. Mom’s here.” Maya buried her face in my shoulder and burst into deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Her body was fluttering like a leaf in an autumn storm. “Mom… I’m so scared… He… he wasn’t like this…” I knew exactly what she meant. In the original narrative, Tristan first appeared as Maya’s “savior.” Because of my own supposed “high-pressure parenting,” Maya was shy and insecure. When she was bullied at school, Tristan stepped in to protect her. This created the foundation for her dependence and the first stirrings of a confused attraction. She had no idea that her “tormentors” had all been put up to it by Tristan himself. A perfectly orchestrated, self-directed act of heroism had stolen my daughter’s initial trust. “I know, baby,” I stroked her back, my voice impossibly soft. “I know everything. But I promise you, he will never hurt you again. I guarantee it.” After calming her down and ensuring she had locked herself securely in the room, I began my cleanup. First, I called the building management. I reported a home invasion and attempted robbery, stating the door was forced and the property damaged. I demanded security be dispatched immediately and all hallway surveillance footage be secured. Then, I dialed a number I hadn’t used in years. A lazy, smoky voice answered. “Well, well, if it isn’t Delaney Stone, the Great Litigator. Did you finally finish your merger case?” “Quinn, I need a favor. Now.” I went straight to the point. “Run a background check on someone: Tristan Kael. Seventeen, St. Jude’s Academy.” Quinn was a college friend, now a private investigator with a notorious reputation. “Tristan Kael?” Quinn chuckled. “Oh, I know that name. The Kael Group’s messy little bastard son. What did he do? Key your Lexus?” “He tried to assault my daughter.” The laugh vanished. Quinn’s voice hardened. “Send me the address. I’ll have every dirty little detail on him, from his first parking ticket to who he stole a lollipop from in kindergarten, within three days.” I hung up, staring out at the heavy night outside. My gaze was ice cold. The Feed was still drifting by in scattered lines. 【Investigating Tristan? Useless. The Kael family practically owns Portland. What can one small-time lawyer do?】 【Just wait for Tristan to come back with backup and settle this with the mother-daughter duo.】 【Yeah, put this mom in the dark room, too. Hehehe…】 I scoffed. You think this is over? You think I’ll be like the “evil mother” in your plot, relying only on useless methods like calling the police or complaining to the school? No. You underestimate me. You want a psychopath. You want forced love. You want a storyline that spirals out of control. Fine. I will give you a performance of utter, unhinged chaos. The very next morning, the school called. The principal’s voice was strained and frantic. “Mrs. Stone, you need to come in right now! Maya… something awful has happened!” My heart sank, but I kept my tone calm. “What exactly is going on?” “On the school forum… someone posted… some inappropriate pictures of Maya… The whole school is seeing them…” I ended the call, my eyes the temperature of liquid nitrogen. Tristan’s retaliation was faster and more vicious than I had anticipated. I arrived at St. Jude’s Academy to find Maya surrounded by a cluster of students in a classroom corner. They were pointing, whispering vile comments. “Hey, Maya, that’s you in the pictures, right? Didn’t realize you were such a freak.” “How wild do you get with the Campus King? Was it good?” Maya was clutching her backpack, her head bowed, her face paper-white and silent. I strode over and shoved the most aggressive boy standing in front. “Move.” My appearance silenced the immediate circle. The boy I pushed, one of Tristan’s lackeys, stumbled, turned, and glared at me. “Who the hell are you?” I ignored him. I walked straight to my daughter, took off my trench coat, and wrapped it around her, pulling her close into my arms. “Mom…” Maya’s tears immediately began to flow. “Don’t be scared,” I patted her back, then lifted my head, my eyes sweeping over the young, malicious faces surrounding us. “Who posted the pictures?” No one spoke. The boy I had pushed, Leo, scoffed. “Ma’am, your daughter’s the one who posed for them. Don’t try to play the innocent victim here.” I looked at him and smiled slowly. “Your name is Leo, correct?” The boy froze. “How… how do you know that?” “Leo Davis. Grade 11, Section C, Student ID 24. You were suspended last month for fighting at an off-campus club. Your father is a mid-level manager at City Planning, and your mother works at the department store. You’re currently pursuing a girl named Tiffany in the next class, and you stole three hundred dollars from your dad to buy her a designer bag, didn’t you?” Leo’s face completely changed. His arrogance dissolved into sheer terror. “You… you investigated me?!” The surrounding students started murmuring, their eyes now wary. I didn’t acknowledge his panic. I continued: “As for the photos, they’re synthetic. The Photoshop work is amateurish. Any forensic photo expert can tell. I have already contacted the police and my litigation team. You, and every single student who has made a derogatory comment on the forum, will be receiving a cease-and-desist letter within the hour.” “Defamation is a serious crime. Depending on the severity, it can carry a penalty of jail time. Since you are minors, you won’t be incarcerated, but the resulting felony record will follow you for life. Say goodbye to college applications, federal jobs, and any chance of a clean start.” My voice was low, but every word sliced through the tension. The students, who minutes ago had been so bold, now looked sickly pale. 【HOLY SHIT! This mom is a professional!】 【I take back everything! She’s not a puritan, she’s a predator!】 【LOL, these pathetic brats got a major reality check. They picked the wrong fight.】 I allowed myself a moment to appreciate their fear, then shifted my attention to the teacher hiding in the corner. “Ms. Williams,” I said, looking at the stunned principal. “As the homeroom teacher, my daughter has been subjected to severe bullying and slander in your class, and you stood by and watched. I believe I need to have a serious discussion with the District and the Board about your professional conduct.” The principal’s face turned the color of beet juice. Just then, an arrogant voice cut in from the doorway. “Oh, what a lively scene.” Tristan had arrived. He had a bandage on his cheek and a wrap on his arm. He swaggered in, trailed by a few large, menacing boys. His presence was a shot of confidence to the students, who immediately began to look less terrified. Tristan stopped in front of me, looking down with eyes full of pure malice and triumph. “Mrs. Stone, I told you you’d regret crossing me.” He smiled, utterly feral. “This is just the beginning. I will make your daughter unlivable in this city, completely destroy her name, and she will crawl back to me on her hands and knees.” He believed he had won. The Feed agreed. 【Tristan is dominant! We love this psycho-energy!】 【That’s right! When dealing with an annoying bitch, you use the nuclear option!】 I looked at him. And I smiled, too.

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I was born with the Divine Bone, revered by all as a goddess. But I carved it out with my own hands. As blood pooled on the floor, my legitimate sister panicked. She offered a fortune to any doctor in the land who could reattach my Divine Bone. In my past life, I was betrothed to the Crown Prince because I could protect the nation’s fortune and summon rain. But shortly after our marriage, my sister claimed she was the true goddess. Every time, she summoned the heavenly dew before me. She even predicted fortunes and disasters, accurately calculating the date of a great calamity before I could. She was worshipped like a deity, gathering countless followers. Meanwhile, I was locked in the Cold Palace, where the Crown Prince personally carved out my bones, one by one. “Clara is the true goddess! You imposter, you stole credit for her predictions and usurped her identity!” “The position of Crown Princess should have been Clara’s! She has the heart of a goddess, not fighting or snatching, which gave you the chance to make me miss out on her!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Empress was selecting the Crown Princess… 1 “Which one is the goddess of the Cloud family, born with the Divine Bone?” At the palace banquet, the Empress scanned all the candidates for Crown Princess. The same question as my past life rang in my ears. I endured the stinging pain in my chest and curtsied: “It is I, your humble servant.” As I straightened up, blood soaked through my clothes. The Empress’s expression changed abruptly: “What… is going on with you?” Beside me, my legitimate sister, Clara, turned pale instantly. More shocked than even the Empress, she screamed before anyone else could react: “Quick, fetch the royal physician!” “My sister must not come to any harm!” The moment I realized I was reborn. The first thing I did was carve out the unique Divine Bone from my chest, the symbol of my identity as a goddess. Waves of agonizing pain assaulted me. Yet I lowered my eyes and twitched the corner of my lips. Then I knelt, my voice weak and raspy: “Your Majesty, I encountered an assassin before entering the palace. Someone carved out my Divine Bone.” “I am no longer a goddess. I am unworthy of His Highness the Crown Prince…” I looked up at my sister, who was twisting her handkerchief nervously. I pointed at her and said softly: “Actually, the Cloud family has two goddesses.” “I had the Divine Bone, while my sister has a lifelike Buddha Lotus on her chest.” “My sister is the true match for the Crown Prince!” Suddenly mentioned by me in front of everyone, Clara was shocked for a moment, but then subconsciously covered her chest. The Empress asked skeptically: “You truly have a Buddha Lotus on your chest?” “Why haven’t I heard anyone mention this?” Clara’s lips trembled, her eyes reddening, looking extremely troubled: “The Cloud family already had one goddess.” “My sister’s fame is widespread, and the Grand Preceptor himself said she could protect the nation’s fortune. How could I dare steal her thunder…” 2 In my past life. When I was born, celestial phenomena occurred. Hundreds of phoenixes circled and cried over the Cloud family roof, and colorful clouds filled the sky. As I grew up, I could summon rain and pray for blessings. For over a decade, the country enjoyed favorable weather, and wars against enemy nations ended in total victory! The Grand Preceptor in the palace took one look at me, touched the bone in my chest, and declared I possessed the Divine Bone. A goddess descended to earth. As long as I lived, the nation’s fortune remained! But Clara and the First Madam were dissatisfied and jealous. I had the Divine Bone and was revered by the people. They secretly hired an artist to tattoo an ethereal, snow-white Buddha Lotus on Clara’s chest. I haven’t forgotten. In my past life, Clara covered the Buddha Lotus on her chest, speaking to the Crown Prince with a fragile, aggrieved tone: “She is my sister, so I tolerated her usurping my identity and didn’t expose her as a fake goddess.” “Those previous predictions of fortune and disaster were calculated by my divination, but she peeked and took the credit.” Clara pretended to be magnanimous but hesitant: “It doesn’t matter that she stole my identity as a goddess, but I’m afraid she’ll anger the heavens and bring down punishment…” After hearing her twist the truth, the Crown Prince, in a rage, his eyes bloodshot, personally carved out every bone in my body. “For stealing Clara’s identity as a goddess! For occupying the position of Crown Princess…” “Didn’t you claim to have the Divine Bone? I’ll shave off every bone of yours and see how you swindle people then!” Thinking back now, every cut still feels like it’s landing on my body. I can’t help but tremble. In my past life. The person going to the Sacred Altar to pray for rain should have been me, but I suddenly fainted before leaving the Cloud house. When I woke up, my fingertip had been pricked, and blood taken. By the time I rushed to the Sacred Altar, Clara was already kneeling there devoutly, kowtowing repeatedly to the heavens, her forehead covered in blood and dirt. Soon, heavenly dew fell, ending months of drought. I exhausted my spirit, divining for days and nights, only for her to steal my predictions every time, claiming credit before the Emperor with eloquence. Not long after, an earthquake struck the suburbs. Because of Clara’s “prediction,” the people had been evacuated, and no one was hurt. Clara’s divination abilities were confirmed by everyone! Overnight, Clara became the true goddess. I became a despised fraud, an imposter. My previous rain summons and predictions became stolen, impersonated acts. In this life, if Clara wants to be the goddess, I’ll let her! 3 At the Crown Prince’s consort selection banquet. After my reminder. Clara bit her lip shyly. In front of everyone, she slightly opened her silk robe, revealing the Buddha Lotus on her snow-white chest. “Is there really a Buddha Lotus?” “Does the Cloud family have two goddesses?” “The illegitimate sister with the Divine Bone suddenly had it carved out before entering the palace. Clara stands out now—what luck!” Amidst the murmurs, a blush spread across Clara’s face. “Mother forbade me from stealing my sister’s thunder before, so I never mentioned it or let outsiders know.” “My sister is a goddess, and so am I…” “What my sister can do—summoning rain, praying for blessings—I can do too!” I didn’t expose Clara’s lies. I lowered my eyes to hide the sneer within. After Clara publicly admitted to being a goddess who could also protect the nation’s fortune, the Empress bestowed the marriage on the spot. In this life, the person marrying the Crown Prince changed to my sister! Back at the Cloud residence, seeing the bloody hole in my chest, Clara’s joy of becoming the Crown Princess vanished, replaced by panic. Her voice trembled as she scolded me shrilly: “Even if the Cloud family has more than one goddess! Your Divine Bone is so important. How could you be so careless and let someone carve it out?” “Think quickly! Who was the assassin! Where did he throw your Divine Bone?” She mobilized everyone in the Cloud family to find the carved-out bone. Finally, they found the shattered bone pieces in the carriage I took to the palace. Clara visibly sighed in relief. She spared no expense hiring famous doctors to reattach the bone for me. Another famous doctor examined my wound, frowned, and shook his head: “Can’t be reattached.” “It’s been carved out too long. It’s useless now…” “If recovery goes poorly, she might become a cripple.” Hearing I might become a cripple, my expression didn’t change a bit. But Clara beside me trembled heavily, panic flashing in her eyes. She grabbed a teacup and smashed it angrily in front of the doctor. “You bunch of useless trash.” “I can pay any consultation fee, and you can’t even reattach a bone!” After driving the doctor away, Clara glared at me with sinister, cold eyes. I ignored her gaze, closing my eyes to rest, but sneering internally. In this life, without my divine blood, without my ability to predict, let’s see what she uses to pretend to be a goddess! 4 On the wedding day. Crown Prince Xavier married Clara with a ten-mile dowry procession, a ceremony befitting a nation. I stayed in the courtyard nursing my wound. Before leaving, Clara came to see me in her gorgeous phoenix crown and wedding robes. Her wedding dress was sewn with gold thread and adorned with pearls, much grander than mine in the past life. She laughed triumphantly, deliberately dragging out her sarcastic tone. “Aria, so what if you have the Divine Bone?” “This time, the position of Crown Princess, and the identity of the goddess revered by all, are mine!” From these two sentences, I realized Clara was reborn like me. The Crown Prince arrived to pick up the bride. Clara went up, linking arms with him gently and intimately. Xavier looked down from his high horse, glancing at me with disgust, as if looking at something filthy, and immediately looked away. Clara gently pulled his sleeve, pretending to pity me: “Sister has lost her Divine Bone and has fallen from a high goddess to a cripple.” “Why don’t Your Highness marry her as well, making her a concubine?” Xavier’s face was dark, and he snorted coldly: “Not just any cat or dog can be my concubine!” “Clara, you said she’s a waste. Trash should just wait to die. She’s not fit for the Eastern Palace!” “In this life, I only want to marry you! Clara, you are the noble, unworldly goddess who doesn’t fight or snatch.” “As for her, full of lies and vanity, looking at her makes me sick!” I watched coldly as they sang their duet, humiliating me. In this life, Xavier and I hadn’t interacted yet. His hatred for me and his care for Clara showed he was reborn too. After a moment of distraction. Xavier took out a scroll of bright yellow imperial edict from his robe and threw it in front of me. “I asked for an edict for you.” “To marry General Silas, the Conqueror of the North.” Clara covered her mouth in shock, but her eyes held a malicious smile. “Didn’t General Silas fall into an ambush on the battlefield and remain in a coma, practically a vegetable?” “If sister marries him, isn’t it just a ‘冲喜’ (marriage to ward off bad luck for a sick person) leading to widowhood? How can this be?” Xavier narrowed his eyes sinisterly: “It’s exactly for her to bring luck to the mortally wounded Silas!” He sneered: “Aria, didn’t you claim to be a goddess? Able to protect the nation? A little luck-bringing marriage shouldn’t be hard for you!” “Hurry up and accept the edict!” I didn’t move. Clara picked up the edict and held it in front of me. She leaned in, whispering a sneer: “You lost your Divine Bone and aren’t a goddess anymore. You don’t still dream of being Crown Princess, do you?” “A cripple matching a cripple, isn’t it perfect?” As she stuffed the edict into my hand, her sharp nails deliberately scratched the back of my hand. My eyes turned cold, and I pushed her away. Clara fell back conveniently into the Crown Prince’s arms. Tears welled up in her eyes, aggrieved: “I just wanted to persuade sister to accept the edict. Disobeying an imperial decree brings punishment. I didn’t expect her to treat me like this.” Clara looked at me pitifully: “Sister, I know you admire the Crown Prince too.” “But the position of Crown Princess is noble. You are no longer a goddess, how can you be worthy? Only I possess the Buddha Lotus on my chest…” “I tried to persuade His Highness, but he wouldn’t even give you a concubine position.” I curled my lips in a sneer: “Don’t worry. I won’t fight you for the Prince or the goddess title. Those are things I don’t want!” Though the goddess identity is noble, it carries the burden of protecting the people. Great glory comes with great responsibility. Does she think being a goddess is easy? As for Crown Prince Xavier, blind as a bat. Reborn yet still doesn’t know who the true goddess is, thinking he found the right person. Clara acted like she suffered a huge humiliation, tears falling. Xavier, holding her, flew into a rage, his face dark as ink. “Guards! Since she refuses a toast only to drink a forfeit, force her to kneel and accept the edict!”

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The charity case my mom sponsored was impersonating me at school. At the bustling school gate, she beat me to it, skillfully sliding into the back seat of my family’s car. Loud enough for everyone around to hear, she shouted at me: “Chloe, I know we’re close, and I don’t want to hurt our friendship over petty things.” “But just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you can always hitch a ride. We don’t even live in the same direction. You can’t just keep relying on my family’s driver to take you home.” As soon as the words left her mouth, disdainful looks shot my way from all directions. In the past, I would have flushed crimson, speechless and mortified. But unfortunately for her, I had just been reborn. So, in front of everyone, I yanked her out of the car without mercy. I climbed in, rolled down the window, and spat at her: “Lived the good life for a few days and forgot your own last name, huh?” “Your family’s driver? Go ahead, call him that. See if he dares to answer.” 1 The noisy crowd fell silent at my cold words. With a look of utter disgust, I glanced at Bella, her school uniform disheveled from being dragged out of the car. She didn’t say another word. Bang. I slammed the car door shut and ordered the driver to go. Outside, a recovering Bella banged on the window, putting on that inexplicable air of arrogance, demanding I open the door. “Miss, this isn’t good, is it?” The driver turned to look at me, his tone filled with hesitation. “Not good?” I sneered. Bella wanted me to open the door? Fine. I’d grant her wish. Wait for the moment she was distracted, I unlocked the door. Just as she pulled it open, I leaned back slightly, lifted my leg, and Bang! kicked the door hard. Bella didn’t dodge in time. The door slammed into her head with immense force, knocking her flying. “Ah!” A scream pierced the air as Bella hit the ground. I leaned casually against the door frame, watching her sprawl awkwardly on the concrete, scrapes on her arms and legs bleeding, a bump instantly swelling on her forehead. “Chloe Chen!” Regaining her senses, Bella screamed my name hysterically. Even now, eyes red, she tried to twist the truth: “It’s not like I won’t ever give you a ride! Even if we’re best friends, you can’t just mooch off my family’s car every single day!” “This is my family’s car! Aren’t you going too far?!” “Me? Going too far?” I pointed at my nose, amused, and let out an undisguised scoff: “You asked me to open the door, and I did, didn’t I?” “You didn’t dodge in time and hit the door yourself. I haven’t even accused you of insurance fraud yet.” “Besides, since when can anyone just run their mouth? You say this is your car? Where’s the proof?” “Open your dog eyes and look. Do you even recognize the brand of this car? Wore fancy clothes for a few days, put on a human skin, and you really think you’re somebody now?” I didn’t waste another word on her. I slammed the door shut again and told the driver to drive. Seeing the driver, Uncle Lee, look out the window at the crying Bella with pity in his eyes, my face darkened instantly. “Uncle Lee, don’t forget who pays your salary.” “When my dad gets back from overseas, I’ll tell him everything that’s happened lately.” “Think about your son. Rein in that overflowing sympathy of yours. Don’t waste it on people who don’t deserve it.” Uncle Lee’s sympathetic expression vanished instantly. He was originally my dad’s driver. Since my dad spent most of his time abroad managing the branch office, he assigned Uncle Lee to me. His son was my dad’s assistant, and his wife was a maid at the Chen family estate taking care of my grandmother. The whole family worked for us. I knew why Uncle Lee sympathized with Bella. Ever since my mom brought her home six months ago, she had been sucking up to everyone to secure her place. She’d help the maids prep food, chat with Uncle Lee while he washed the car… Over time, the staff grew fond of her, pitying her background and taking extra care of her. My warning was a reminder: don’t forget who your real boss is. Since my dad assigned him to me, he should serve me wholeheartedly, not be distracted by some two-faced manipulator. 2 When I got home, Nanny Liu immediately came to take my schoolbag. Seeing I was alone, her smile faltered. She asked immediately: “Miss, why are you alone? Where’s Bella? Didn’t she come back with you?” I ignored her and went straight to the dining room to wash my hands and eat. The table was full of Bella’s favorites. The braised beltfish I specifically asked for yesterday was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Bella’s favorite braised pork ribs sat in the center. In that instant, fury burned in my chest. But Nanny Liu, oblivious to my darkening face, ignored Uncle Lee’s attempts to stop her and kept rambling: “Madam might be late tonight. Miss, should we wait for Miss Bella before eating?” “Did you have a fight with Bella again? Miss, really, why must you always make things difficult for such a good girl like Bella?” “Old Lee, go back and pick up Bella quickly. The poor child doesn’t know the area well, what if she gets lost again like last time?” Nanny Liu nagged on. It sounded like questions, but the tone was full of blame. I tapped my fingers on the table, watching coldly as she turned to urge Uncle Lee to go back for Bella. “Shut up, stop talking.” Seeing Nanny Liu’s cluelessness, Uncle Lee couldn’t help but scold her in a low voice. Finally, I spoke, my voice calm: “Nanny Liu, where is the braised beltfish I asked for yesterday?” Nanny Liu froze, finally realizing something was wrong. She turned slowly to explain: “Well, um, I went out a bit late today, and the market was out of beltfish, so I didn’t make it.” “If Miss wants it, maybe tomorrow—” “Is our city so small that there’s only one market?” I cut off her clumsy lie coldly. “Went out late? Out of beltfish? How come they weren’t out of ribs?” “Was there really none, or did you just forget because you didn’t want to make it!” I picked up the plate of mouth-watering ribs and dumped the whole thing into the trash can. I don’t lose my temper often, but these people seemed to have forgotten who the real master of this house was! “Nanny Liu, if you listen to Bella so much, let her pay your salary from now on.” “I don’t want to repeat myself. Clear this table.” “I want beltfish today. If I don’t get it, pack your bags and retire early!” I turned and went upstairs. As I turned, I heard Nanny Liu and Uncle Lee whispering: “What’s wrong with the Young Miss today?” “She never used to care about these things.” 3 Lying on my bed, exhausted after making a call, I stared at the ceiling and rubbed my throbbing temples. Nanny Liu was right. The old me wouldn’t have cared. But at the school gate, Bella beat me to the car and humiliated me publicly. “Chloe, I know we’re close…” Those words echoed in my mind. If it were the past, I would have been flushed with embarrassment, unable to react. But coincidentally, at that exact moment, I was reborn. In my past life, she impersonated me, deliberately embarrassing me in public, kicking me out of the car, making everyone think I was a thick-skinned moocher. I wanted to clarify my identity at the parent-teacher conference, to expose Bella’s lies. But my mom showed up instead of Bella’s parents. In front of everyone, she announced that Bella was her only daughter. I cried and asked why she treated me like this, why she wouldn’t acknowledge her own daughter. She just waved her hand and “clarified” to everyone: “Who’s your mom? You’re just the daughter of my maid.” “I pitied you and sponsored you, but you delusionally want things you don’t deserve.” “What a sin!” Her words were like a thunderbolt, casting me into hell. With my mom’s favor, Bella had no fear. She instigated her lackeys to bully me at school, driving me to near depression. I called my dad crying, pouring out my grievances. My dad, who loved me dearly, rushed back from abroad but died in a plane crash. My only other support, my grandma, fell down the stairs and died upon hearing the news of my dad’s death. I was underage, so everything naturally went to my mom. After inheriting my dad’s company and assets, my mom immediately adopted Bella. To prevent me from being supported by the board of directors when I came of age, they concocted a lie that I had schizophrenia and sent me to a mental asylum. Under their orders, I was tortured to death in that asylum. Before I died, I learned a massive secret. The pain of my past life flashed before my eyes. I didn’t want to make useless vows to heaven. Being reborn was enough to steel my heart. Everyone who hurt me would pay. And those who truly loved me, I would protect them from their tragic fates. … A knock on the door broke my thoughts. Nanny Liu nervously called me down for dinner. On the dining table, my favorite braised beltfish sat in the center. The other dishes had been swapped for seafood I usually loved. Nanny Liu looked at me cautiously, fawningly calling me “Young Miss.” I didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at her. I sat down and ate with relish. The taste of the beltfish melted in my mouth, salty, fresh, and sweet. Just a common dish, but it took me a lifetime to taste it again. Because Bella was allergic to seafood, it had vanished from our table the moment she moved in. But why? The master of this house isn’t named Zhou! Starting today, I will fulfill every regret from my past life. 4 When my mom returned from the hospital with a bandaged Bella, she saw me feasting on a table full of seafood. Smelling the seafood, Bella turned pale and retched. When my mom looked at her, she covered her mouth, apologizing for not holding it in. Already angry about me hurting Bella, my mom exploded. She rushed over and swept all the seafood onto the floor, ignoring that I was eating. “Eat, eat, eat! You’ve got some nerve!” “You hurt Bella like this, and you have the face to eat? And seafood at home? You selfish animal, don’t you know Bella is allergic?” “What does her allergy have to do with me?” I looked up into my mom’s eyes. In my past life, she always told others I had a bad temper, unlike the obedient Bella. To please her, I kept a low profile and didn’t fight, but she still scolded me for being scheming. Since nothing I did satisfied her, I might as well show her what a real “bad temper” looked like. I took the half-eaten crab from my mouth and threw it at Bella standing behind her. Good aim. It hit her right in the face, eliciting a scream. I sneered, looking at her with disdain: “She’s just a charity case begging at our door. Why should I, the young mistress of the Chen family, accommodate her?” “What is she? Me giving her leftovers is already doing her a favor.” “Picking and choosing all day long. Who does she think she is? Look in the mirror and see if you’re worthy.” I leaned back, speaking casually. Truthful words, but Bella acted like she was wronged by the heavens, eyes red, sobbing uncontrollably. But I could see the venom she could barely suppress under that mask of grievance. “Bella!” My mom was shocked. She quickly picked the crab off Bella’s face. Seeing the tearful Bella, she hugged her, comforting her distress. Once Bella calmed down, she remembered me, the culprit. “You vicious little bitch! Do you think I won’t discipline you?!” “Look at what you did to Bella! I’m going to beat you to death today, you animal!” “I dare you!” Just as my mom raised her hand, face twisted in rage, a shout rang out from the entrance. My mom froze, her hand suspended in mid-air. As the sound of a cane tapping the floor drew nearer, the expression on Zhou Yaqin’s face turned to terror. “Grandma!” I was instantly excited, running past Zhou Yaqin to embrace the newcomer. “Grandma, I missed you so much!” I threw myself into her arms like a child. Thinking that in my past life, my beloved grandma’s death was indirectly caused by me, my heart bled, and tears fell uncontrollably. “Oh my, my precious Chloe, why are you crying?” “Let Grandma look at you. Have you lost weight?” “Don’t cry, baby. Grandma is here! Grandma will back you up. Who dared to make my Chloe cry?” Seeing my tears, my grandma’s eyes filled with pain. She patted my back gently, just like when I was little. Once I stopped crying, she touched my face lovingly, then pulled me behind her, her face changing instantly as she looked at Zhou Yaqin. “My son isn’t home, so you think you run the place?” “If Chloe hadn’t called saying she missed me and I decided to visit, I wouldn’t have known this house had a new master!” Grandma sat me down in the living room. Zhou Yaqin hated my grandma but was too terrified to look up. Seeing her silence, Grandma snorted and banged her cane on the marble floor. Zhou Yaqin visibly trembled. “Mom, this was Chloe’s fault. I was just teaching her a small lesson—” “Lesson? What right do you have to teach her a lesson!” Grandma barked. She had always looked down on my mom’s background and despised her for continuing to work in showbiz after marrying, disregarding the Chen family’s reputation. Scandals with tycoons one day, young idols the next. Countless people in the elite circle laughed at my grandma and dad behind their backs. In my past life, I tried to mediate their relationship, making up good things about my mom, but it was a thankless task. “I don’t care what you do outside, but don’t forget how you got your position and status. If you let my granddaughter suffer even a little bit again, there’s no need for you to stay in this house!” “And you!” Grandma’s gaze shifted to Bella beside Zhou Yaqin. The sharp look almost made Bella kneel. She stammered in fear: “G-Grandma, I…” “Don’t call me Grandma. I only have one granddaughter, Chloe.” Grandma’s disgust was palpable. She said coldly: “I heard you’ve been impersonating the Chen family’s young mistress at school?” “No, I didn’t, I—” “Whether you did or not, you know best.” Grandma pressed on, giving Bella no chance to argue. Another cold snort, and sweat rolled down Bella’s forehead. After my grandfather passed away when my dad was a teen, the massive Chen business empire fell into my grandma’s hands. Until my dad was capable enough to take over, Grandma ran the Chen Group. Back then, the group wasn’t as successful as today. Grandma led it through its toughest times, transforming it into a thriving business. Her methods and courage were unmatched. Decades of decisive leadership meant even in her old age, a single look could make people tremble. “I’ll put it here today. The Chen family has only one young mistress, and only one future successor: Chloe.” “Some people who want to play dirty tricks better weigh their own worth. Are you qualified to go against this old woman?” “If I hear anyone playing games and making Chloe suffer again, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” With that, she pulled me up and ordered Nanny Liu behind her: “Pack my things. I’m staying here for a while.” “I want to see who dares to act up under my nose!”

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The day after the divorce was finalized, Seraphina Wynn married the junior mentee who’d just graduated college. I didn’t chase them. Not this time. Everyone in Boston’s finance circles was privately speculating on what my angle was. They couldn’t believe I—the man who had, until recently, been driven to madness over her—would simply walk away. Five years ago, when I first discovered Sera’s affair, I had spiraled, desperate to hold on to her. I’d ended up arrested, sacrificing my stellar career as one of the Street’s youngest rising stars. She had remained unmoved. Cold. Now, I was running a gourmet sliders stand near the main campus, a fixture on the college-town nightlife strip. A customer stood by the stand for a long time, silent as a statue. I took off my gloves, exposing the network of faint burn scars on the back of my hand, and nodded a small greeting. Long time, no see, Ms. Wynn. “Care for some artisan grilled cheese sliders?” 1 Sera finally spoke, her voice low and carrying a hint of barely suppressed gravel. “I thought you would pretend you hadn’t seen me.” I pulled my lips into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “No need for pretense.” “Why are you selling street food here?” “To live.” I answered with blunt clarity. “A man has to find a way to survive.” I’d done everything to survive these past five years. Even after she used her influence to blacklist me from nearly every firm in the financial district, I managed to scrape by on odd jobs and freelance consulting. I’d made it through. She drew a quiet breath, her gaze lingering on my working hands. “You used to burn water trying to boil pasta. Now you’re running a food stand…” Just then, evening classes let out, and a wave of students poured into the street. A young man in a hoodie ran up, calling out a familiar greeting. “Cole! The usual, extra caramelized onions and that spicy aioli, please!” I acknowledged him, skillfully layering the ingredients. The hot sauce sizzled, and the aroma, rich with sharp cheese and beef, filled the air. Sera watched my practiced, fluid movements, a look of unfamiliar confusion in her eyes. The students were chattering amongst themselves, close and comfortable around the stand. “Cole, helping out Mrs. Rodriguez again tonight?” I nodded. I met Mrs. Rodriguez during a community service project; her husband passed away years ago, and she relied on this little stand to put her daughter through college. I’ve helped many people like her over the years. I hadn’t made much money, but I had definitely learned the harsh edges of real life. The customers began to queue up. In the surge of people, Sera was nudged toward the periphery. When it was time to pack up, I assumed she was long gone. I walked, as I usually did, into the familiar, old-school diner around the corner and ordered my go-to: the classic patty melt with a side of clam chowder. A low, familiar male voice, tight with suppressed emotion, sounded behind me. “Boss, I’ll have the same.” Sera sat down across from me. Out of habit, she took my silverware, ran it under the hot water from the thermos, and poured me a glass of hot tea. Only then did she hesitate before speaking. “How have you… been, these five years?” “Fine. Still breathing.” My tone was flat, revealing nothing. The diner was mostly filled with local students and residents. Many recognized Sera. “Ms. Wynn!” “Seraphina!” The greetings were constant. It was clear she was still riding high—powerful, successful, intimidating. In comparison, my apron-clad appearance certainly looked down-on-my-luck. “When did you get back to Boston?” “Last month.” She paused. “The day you took the photo for us.” I didn’t deny it. I hadn’t realized the world was so small. I’d only just returned when I ran into her, her new husband, and their daughter outside a kid’s park. I certainly hadn’t expected that the casual snapshot I took for them would be shared by her husband in their family group chat. That one picture was enough to send my former friends and associates into a frenzy, with some even taking bets on how long it would take for me to ‘break’ again. “Rhys didn’t mean to post that picture.” She said, “The gossip in the group—don’t let it get to you.” I shook my head. “I don’t have time for it.” She was silent for a moment, then lowered her voice. “If you’re having trouble, I can—” I cut her off. “Don’t bother. I’m fine.” It was the truth. Yet, Sera seemed convinced I was faking strength. Her brow furrowed, and her voice involuntarily rose. “Five years, Adrian! Why are you still so stubborn?” “Are you doing this to punish yourself, just to make me feel guilty?” Through the diner’s steamy air, I looked at the face before me—still beautiful, but now etched with the maturity of hard-won success. I could barely recall the cold, ruthless expression she wore five years ago when she slapped the divorce papers on the table. I shifted my gaze to the flashing neon outside the window. “I let go a long time ago.” “You…” The food arrived, interrupting Sera’s unfinished sentence. The owner, a kind man, chuckled as he looked at us. “Well, look at you two! Haven’t seen you in here together in ages, have I?” Sera’s body stiffened slightly. My expression was calm. “You must have the wrong people, sir.” “No way! You two were so sweet back then, I remember it—sickeningly sweet, every time you came in…” The owner scratched his head and muttered as he walked away. Sera pressed me. “Why deny it? This is exactly where we used to come.” I looked down, stirring the clam chowder. “Was it? It’s been too long. I don’t recall.” She abruptly stood up and walked to a display wall covered in old Polaroids and sticky notes. After searching for a moment, she cautiously pulled out a faded photo. “See? It’s still…” Her voice cut off, and she desperately tried to hide the picture. But I’d already seen it. In the photo, Sera was sitting on my left, affectionately draped over my shoulder. On my right, holding my arm tightly, smiling sweetly and leaning into me, was a clean-cut young man. Rhys Bennett. Her now-husband. A corner of the photo—slightly blurred, but the date was clear: six years ago today. 2 I was five years older than Sera. The year we met, I returned to my alma mater to speak at a finance forum as an honored alumnus. She was the student who asked the most incisive, challenging question from the audience. I remember her eyes—full of ambition and sharp brilliance. Even in her basic student clothing, her exceptional presence was undeniable. After the event, she boldly intercepted me. She said she’d studied every deal I’d ever managed; she called me her benchmark, the trajectory she was fighting for. Surrounded by admirers as I was, and jaded by the insincerity of the corporate world, her open worship and fiery gaze did cause a ripple in my long-dormant heart. But I kept my distance. Sera was too young; her passion felt like a temporary impulse. I underestimated her resolve. What followed was her almost reckless, all-in pursuit. Sera came from a modest background, yet she’d save her part-time earnings to buy me expensive concert tickets. She’d wait outside my office building until midnight just to drop off a late-night meal she’d made herself. No matter how many times I rejected her, she returned with more force. Until the day I was targeted by a project rival. Sera stepped in front of me, and her arm was badly cut—an injury that threatened to derail her crucial final internship. Furious and worried, I yelled at her, using the harshest words I had to chastise her recklessness. She just held my hand tighter, her eyes shining with frightening intensity. “The path I’ve chosen, Adrian Cole, I will finish, even if I have to crawl across the finish line.” “I love you. Even if you reject me a thousand times, I will never give up.” I eventually broke. I crumbled. I staked everything I had on that reckless, honest devotion. My parents vehemently disapproved. Friends warned me—the gap between us was too vast, our future too unstable. I had my own anxieties. But Sera used action to prove her determination. On her graduation day, she stood on the stage and announced to the entire faculty and student body that she would marry me. “Adrian,” she said. “I will spend my whole life proving to you that your choice was the right one.” After we married, I poured all my connections and resources into building her career, introducing her to the major players in the investment world. She proved to be a prodigy. In just a few years, she became a recognizable force, launching her own fund. Outwardly, she was the decisive Ms. Wynn, but at home, she was clingy and fiercely possessive. At Sera’s strong insistence, I gradually withdrew from the core, high-stakes finance work. I shifted my focus to running a charitable foundation and managing our family’s private assets, seeking to achieve a different kind of social value. It was during that time that I met Rhys Bennett. He was interning at a non-profit organization, liaising on a project. He came from a disadvantaged background but was relentlessly ambitious and had a disarmingly innocent smile. I admired his tenacity, providing him with guidance and opportunities. He was overwhelmingly grateful, calling me “Cole” and treating me like a revered older brother. Sera was initially cool toward him, even jealous that I was dedicating too much time to anyone outside of her orbit. That changed when I had Sera help place Rhys in an internship at her company, hoping to give him a better platform. After working closely with him, her opinion softened; she admitted he was a hard-working, thoughtful young man. For a time, the three of us often had dinner together. On weekends, we even took short trips. I never suspected that beneath this seemingly perfect harmony, a dangerous current was already moving. The truth broke on my thirty-second birthday. I ended an overseas trip early and came home. On the floor of the foyer, scattered among Sera’s silk scarf, was the designer tie I had given Rhys—now left behind. From the slightly ajar master bedroom door, I heard the sounds—low, ragged, and unrestrained. The world shattered the moment I pushed the door open. I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy glass vase from the console table—and hurled it. “Seraphina! Rhys is only twenty-two! How could you!” Rhys lifted his tear-streaked face from her shoulder. “Cole, I’m so sorry… We truly fell in love, I couldn’t help myself…” The pain choked the air from my lungs. “And me? What was I to you?” Sera tightly wrapped a blanket around Rhys. After the initial flash of panic, her face settled into a chilling calm, laced with a hint of… impatience. She deliberately slipped on her silk robe and walked up to me, lifting my chin with a cool finger. “You know Rhys is only twenty-two. The peak of youth. But look at you.” Her eyes critically scanned my face and body. She gave a small, cold laugh. “Haven’t you noticed you haven’t been able to satisfy me for a long time?” “When I go to events with you, people are always whispering, wondering if I’m just a trophy wife who rode your coattails.” I was shaking with rage, my nails digging deep crescents into my palms. “Seraphina, did the age gap appear just today?” “If you cared, why did you pursue me in the first place!” Sera’s smile vanished, replaced by an empty gaze. “Yes, you’re right. I’m the one who changed. Adrian, you’re too controlling. You have to dominate everything.” “Rhys is pure, soft, and he looks up to me. He needs me.” “Just like you were drawn to the young, conquest-driven woman I was back then.” Listening to her preposterous justification, I started to laugh, even as the tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. “Fine, fine… We’re getting a divorce!” She frowned, as if I’d said something ridiculous. “Divorce? I won’t agree to a divorce. Not right now.” “Consider it…” She paused, her tone laced with patronizing charity. “Consider it my way of repaying you for the opportunities you gave me back then.” 3 I couldn’t endure the humiliation. The day after I discovered their affair, I screenshotted some dubious financial correspondence and sent them to our core client group. It was quickly dismissed, but it caused a momentary panic. The next day, I dumped all of Rhys’s belongings out of the villa while Sera watched. “Get out.” Rhys clung to Sera’s sleeve, tears in his eyes. Sera merely gave me a cold look and made a phone call. Less than thirty minutes later, every card in my name was frozen. On the third day, I approached her company’s most important investor, hinting that her turbulent private life might compromise her fund’s reputation. That evening, Sera returned home smelling of expensive scotch. She dragged me into the study and forced me to sit in front of the computer. On the screen was the signed confirmation that the investor had increased their investment. “Adrian Cole, is that all you’ve got?” Sera was right. When it came to manipulating capital and people, her student had surpassed the master long ago. In a fit of rage, I gathered materials on some of her ethically questionable project maneuvers and filed an anonymous but detailed complaint with the relevant regulatory bodies. While I was at it, I went to the non-profit where Rhys was due to be promoted and gave his supervisor an ‘objective’ account of his character. The result? The private family foundation I managed was hit with an immediate audit, and I was given a travel ban. When I stormed into her office to confront her, she was feeding Rhys a piece of cake. “Stop this, Adrian.” She wiped a smear of frosting from Rhys’s mouth. “If you touch Rhys again, I can’t guarantee you’ll walk away from the trouble I’m about to drop on you.” In that moment, I felt a deep, crushing helplessness. I finally understood that in the high-stakes game of capital and power, the current Seraphina was leagues beyond me. “Cole?” A voice of feigned surprise yanked me back to the present. Rhys Bennett was standing beside the table. He was wearing an expensive, on-trend designer suit—polished, handsome, and clearly protected by an armor of money. “It really is you, Cole! I almost didn’t recognize you. I thought you were someone’s hired housekeeper.” I watched his performance in silence. “What are you doing these days? I heard you’re running a food stand?” He wore a mask of pity, but his eyes held clear schadenfreude. “You were the god of our finance world, Cole. How could you fall this far…” Sera frowned. “Rhys!” “Oh, I was just expressing concern,” he said, shaking her arm with a little-boy whine. “We’re old friends, aren’t we? What’s wrong with catching up?” I offered a chilling, mirthless smile. “The old friend who nearly had you indicted?” The temperature in the diner instantly plummeted. Five years ago, while Sera and I were locked in this exhaustive cycle of mutual torment, another devastating blow landed. My father, always healthy and active, had a sudden, fatal heart attack after being implicated in a failed investment project, leaving behind massive debt. I rushed back, grief-stricken, to find Sera tightly holding a trembling Rhys. She was comforting him. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay. Investments are risky; this isn’t your fault…” I learned that the project that had dragged my father into ruin—the one he’d poured his life savings into—was based on information Rhys had ‘casually’ passed along to him. Rhys had used my trust to gain my father’s ear, persuading him to take the plunge. My father was dead, crushed by debt, while Rhys stood there, playing the role of the innocent bystander. I collapsed, weeping, grabbing Rhys’s shoulders and shaking him. “Why! My father trusted you!” Sera forcefully pried my hands away, pulling Rhys behind her. “Adrian! Calm down! Rhys is a victim too! He just shared information out of good faith—your father made the final decision!” The tragedy was officially ruled as my father’s death by suicide due to financial distress. Rhys came to the funeral and wept with convincing sincerity. “I’m sorry, Cole. I truly had no idea…” I slapped him hard across the face, then lunged to grab him again. “My father was so good to you! Why did you ruin him!” Sera violently shoved me back. I stumbled, knocking over my father’s framed picture. The glass shattered across the floor. “Have you lost it, Adrian! Can’t you tell right from wrong anymore? Rhys was cheated too!” I felt cold, my heart turned to ash. “And my father? Did he deserve to die like that?” “Why does real sincerity always get trampled?” Sera, to prevent me from hurting Rhys, called the police. I was detained on charges of disturbing the peace and assault. The next time I saw her was in the holding cell. She brought the divorce agreement. “Adrian, sign this, and everything ends here.” My heart was dead wood. I scanned the agreement. “…You want me to assume all of my father’s debt? And forfeit all our joint assets?” Sera showed me photos of loan sharks vandalizing our villa, splashing paint on the walls, and sending death threats. “Your father’s failed investment—Rhys nearly had a breakdown from the guilt.” “This money will serve as compensation for his emotional distress, and… atonement for your father.” “When you get out…” She sighed, her voice laced with near-pity. “Find somewhere quiet, and live peacefully.” My tears were long exhausted. I simply stared at her, numb. In that instant, every memory of love, every vow, every act of support—it all twisted into the sharpest, most cynical betrayal, tearing my heart to shreds. I signed as she wished, inheriting a mountain of debt and leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back. 4 “We never imagined you’d end up… struggling this much.” Sera took a deep breath, pulled a checkbook from her wallet, and quickly wrote a number. “Take this. Consider it a little compensation from me. The pin hasn’t changed.” Rhys’s face momentarily flickered with displeasure, but he quickly forced a look of sympathy. “You truly don’t need to treat us like enemies, Cole.” “And you don’t have a Seraphina looking after you, like I do. A man your age, carrying debt, with no one to rely on—it must be so hard…” “I’m not alone.” I cut him off. I reached out and pushed the offered check away. As I adjusted my jacket sleeve, the subtle sparkle of a diamond ring on my left hand—my other ring finger—was momentarily visible. “I’m married. And I’m doing very well.” Both of them froze. Rhys reacted first, his smile turning subtly conspiratorial. “Oh, really? Congratulations, Cole.” His eyes darted up and down. “So, your current wife…” My phone conveniently buzzed with a string of texts from someone urging me to hurry home. I looked down, quickly replying, and answered with deliberate casualness. “A few years older than me, actually.” Rhys drew out the syllable. “Oooooh. I thought your type was always fixed, Cole. You know, young and bursting with life.” “Enough!” Sera’s face darkened. She looked at me with a mix of disappointment and anger. “Adrian Cole, do you really have to resort to this kind of self-sabotage?” “Marrying an older woman just to run a street stand and pay off debt for her?” “Is this the life you want? Have you forgotten you were the Adrian Cole who commanded the room on Wall Street?” I hit the send button on my text, then looked up, meeting her gaze. “Seraphina. You’re crossing a line.” She flinched. “I just… I don’t want you to live like this.” “Don’t bother.” I was unequivocal. “Because I have never wished either of you well.” Looking directly at them, I spoke slowly, distinctly. “I have never forgiven you.” “I just refuse to waste any more of my precious time and life tangling with two rotting people.” “I’ve paid my check. I’m leaving.” With that, I grabbed my bag and turned without hesitation. A muffled argument erupted behind me. “Seraphina, what was that? Are you going soft on him now that you see his pathetic life?” “Rhys, stop this! Don’t forget your place!” “My place? I’m your husband! Don’t forget you were the one who climbed into my bed first!” “Shut up! We’re going home!” I didn’t slow down, walking straight to the door. Time is the fairest judge. No one can permanently occupy the moral high ground. And when the velvet curtain is lifted, the sight of the decay beneath is the most repulsive of all. I had barely stepped out of the diner when hurried footsteps sounded behind me. Sera caught up and grabbed my wrist once more. “Adrian, listen to me…” Her breath was ragged. Her eyes, in the gathering dusk, were complex and unreadable. “Actually, after you left, I…” Before she could finish, a clear, high-pitched child’s voice chirped from behind her. “Dad!”

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Eight months pregnant, I found the will tucked away in my husband’s study safe. It was all there: every share of stock, every piece of real estate, plus ten private jets and five private islands. They were all bequeathed, free and clear upon his death, to Holly Summers, the impoverished student he’d been quietly sponsoring. Rhys and I had a prenuptial agreement, of course. When we married, there was no dowry, no exchange of gifts, not even a simple ceremony. “You’re an intellectual, Liz,” Rhys had said, his expression placid. “The transactional nonsense of a dowry is beneath us.” Seven years of marriage, and my name was still a ghost on the deed of the house. “Who gave you permission to touch my things?” Rhys Covington’s voice was arctic, his brow furrowed with genuine, blazing anger. I didn’t cry or scream. I simply told him the truth, my voice flat. “The password was Holly Summers’s birthday.” He snatched the documents from my hand and, without a word, changed the combination. “It’s just a password. Can you stop being dramatic?” I told him I wanted a divorce, calmly, the words barely a whisper. He dismissed it instantly. He locked the safe, told me to leave the study, and warned me never to touch his things again. I nodded. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I reached for my phone and booked an appointment for a termination. His things? I wouldn’t touch them. The baby in my belly? I wouldn’t keep it. 1 “Mrs. Covington, are you absolutely sure about this surgery? You’re too far along. It could cause significant damage to your body.” The doctor’s gentle, cautionary voice sliced through me, causing a momentary, searing pain. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, choking back the rising tide of emotion. “I’m sure,” I confirmed. “Book the procedure for one week from now.” The confirmation text flashed on my screen. I pressed a hand to my throbbing lower abdomen and drove to my lawyer’s firm. David Sinclair, my attorney, slid a warm glass of water across the desk. “Eliza, you don’t have to walk away with nothing,” he advised softly. “Under matrimonial law, you’re entitled to at least half of the assets accumulated during the marriage.” The steam from the water misted my eyes, making the room blur. Rhys had placed all his pre-marital assets into a trust, and after we married, every dollar of his post-nuptial income was held by proxies. The money never technically passed through his hands. He’d told me this on our wedding day. He would never, ever, let a marriage certificate be the mechanism by which he split his hard-earned empire in two. At the time, I convinced myself he was merely reacting to his father’s pressure to marry. I even felt sorry for the years of struggle he’d endured. I’d been the ‘understanding’ wife, agreeing to everything, even signing a document willingly waiving any future claim. It took seeing the will to understand the truth. He hadn’t been reluctant to give away his wealth. He’d simply been strategizing how to legally deliver it to her. He wasn’t unwilling to marry; he just hadn’t been waiting for me. I took a slow sip of water. My voice was a raw, strained whisper. “It won’t be necessary, David. I don’t want the assets. I just want out.” As he drafted the papers, my entire body began to shake uncontrollably. It wasn’t heartbreak—it was fury. Seven years of marriage, and he had so masterfully deceived me, turning me into a willing fool. He was willing to give Holly Summers his entire fortune. Yet, the most valuable gift I’d ever received from him was a cheap, second-hand wristwatch, bought for less than fifty dollars. Even when I fell during the pregnancy and nearly lost the baby—bleeding and terrified—he had been with Holly, celebrating her birthday at Disneyland. The most twisted irony of all? He’d made me design their wedding gown. Two months prior, Rhys had brought home the measurements. I was still severely weak from the ordeal of saving the baby, but he forced me to work. “A friend is getting married,” he’d said dismissively. “Design the bridal wear to the highest standard.” The groom’s measurements were identical to his. And embroidered into the lace hem of the bride’s dress were the initials, ‘H.S.’ David held out the divorce agreement, making one last attempt. “Eliza, the money you earned yourself, at least don’t surrender that…” I managed a bitter smile. Rhys had never given me a cent. Every household expense, every bill, had been paid for with my own freelance design fees. Perhaps that was my utility to him: cheap, effective, and compliant. He could keep his money and yet command my unquestioning devotion to his home and life. Signing the papers later that evening, my lower abdomen seized with a painful, violent cramp. The baby, fully formed now, was thrashing—a wild protest or a desperate plea for comfort, I couldn’t tell. Tears streamed down my face, uncontrolled. I’m sorry, my baby. Mama couldn’t protect you. 2 The next day, with David’s help, I rented a small apartment. I didn’t care about the layout, the price, or the neighborhood—only that I could move in immediately. Returning to the cold, opulent house felt like stepping back into a tomb. The eight-month weight of the baby made every step a labor, but I pushed through the pain and cooked a full dinner. As I carefully arranged the plates, the realization hit me: every single dish was Rhys’s favorite. Seven years of prioritizing his preferences had turned my habits into instinct; I’d forgotten my own. I just wanted a clean break, a peaceful ending to this disastrous marriage. I kept the food warm, reheating it eight times, until Rhys finally stumbled through the front door at three in the morning. The cloying scent of gardenia—Holly’s favorite perfume—assaulted me. A fresh hickey, the pink blooming over older, faded bruises, was stark against his neck. He was drunk, but when his eyes landed on the beautifully plated, still-steaming dinner, he frowned in distaste. “What is this?” he sneered. “Did you think I would suddenly feel sorry for you?” He brushed past me, heading for the stairs, not even granting me a glance. Only as he walked by did I notice it: the wedding band I had personally designed was gone. Not even a pale mark remained on his finger. “Rhys,” I said. My voice was husky, but my tone was eerily calm. “The divorce papers are in your study. Sign them if you don’t have any issues.” He paused halfway up the stairs. He turned back, his gaze heavy with cold sarcasm. “Eliza Quinn,” he said. “You want to divorce me over a will? I’m not dead yet.” He let out a short, dismissive laugh, ignoring my advanced state of pregnancy, and lit a cigarette. “Don’t forget how you got here. Holly has a chronic condition. The will was a gesture, a way to assure her of her safety. It’s symbolic.” He remembered Holly’s chronic condition. He couldn’t see my swollen feet or the enormous, unwieldy belly that kept me from seeing them. The disparity was a chasm. Love and indifference, clearly defined. But he had forgotten something else. Ten years ago, his rivalrous step-brother had him kidnapped. I defied my own family and used every resource I had to track him down. In the decisive moment, I took a knife intended for him. In the hospital, he held me and wept, making a solemn vow. “I will take over Covington Industries, Eliza. And I will give you the life you deserve.” “If I ever betray you, let God strike me down.” He had secured the empire. But the good life? That went to someone else. I was left with a cut-rate wedding, a rented dress, and an icy prenuptial agreement. I laughed, though my eyes stung with unshed tears. “So, you remember. You still owe me a life, then?” Rhys’s face turned frighteningly cold. After a long silence, he scoffed, the sound barely audible. “You’re still holding onto that? You really think I owe you?” “How much? A million? Will a million dollars be enough to wipe the slate clean?” I didn’t know whether to scream or laugh. My life, my sacrifice, was worth a mere million dollars. Any remaining flicker of hope shriveled up and died. I fought to control the tremor in my voice. “It won’t be necessary, Rhys. I just want a peaceful separation.” I turned to leave. Behind me, his enraged roar erupted. “Fine! Have your dignity, Eliza! But don’t come crying back to me when you realize what you’ve lost!” Crying? I had already cried every tear I had for him over the last seven years. 3 Before I could fall asleep, I heard the sound of Rhys’s car tires peeling out of the driveway. He was gone. The torn-up divorce agreement lay in the wastebasket in the study. Why won’t he let go? I wondered. If he doesn’t love me, why cling to the marriage? My phone buzzed. A text from Holly Summers. A photo of Rhys holding her. Scrolling up, I found a history of her similar texts: snapshots of her and Rhys, intimate moments—him blowing out her hair, him cooking for her, him patiently applying an infantile decal to the passenger side of his luxury car. She had been treating me like a diary, unloading all the ‘little joys’ she shared with my husband. A new text popped up. A picture of Rhys asleep, his arm draped around her. He was wearing the silk pajamas I had bought him. That last sentence sent a wave of nausea through me. My stomach convulsed. It wasn’t morning sickness; it was pure, cold disgust. I rushed to the toilet, dry-heaving until tears spilled from my eyes. I stared at the mirror, at the soft indentations—the subtle dimples—that appeared when I smiled. So that was it. He chose me simply because he needed a temporary placeholder, a stand-in to protect the still-underage Holly. I had been the perfect substitute. My vision blurred. I wiped my face and typed a reply. Before I could even put the phone down, Rhys was calling. I remembered the last time he’d called, furious, when I had simply liked one of Holly’s ambiguously intimate social media posts. Back then, I had defensively explained myself. Now, I blocked his number instantly. Every line of communication was severed. Calm returned, and I called a moving company. My belongings were few: clothes and manuscripts. Nothing that had to do with him, not even the wedding ring, came with me. I took one last look at the opulent villa. When I first moved in, I believed it would be the container for my happiness. I saw now that it was merely the gilded cage I’d been trapped in. I was free. I finished packing and cleaning, and the sun was setting when I arrived at the small rental apartment. The tiny space already felt warmer and more welcoming than the house ever had. Just as I was about to rest, the phone rang. It was Rhys’s assistant. I answered, and Rhys’s icy voice cut through the line. “Eliza Quinn, what is your game? I’ve told you repeatedly, Holly’s health is fragile.” “This stunt of yours is going to send her into shock!” “Come home now, and I’ll overlook this. You will carry my child to term.” My grip tightened on the phone. After running away, his only concern was Holly’s emotional stability. My safety, my physical health, my state of mind—those were irrelevant. “Eliza, are you listening? Answer me.” “Get home immediately—” I hung up, blocked the number, and powered down the phone. I would grant his wish: I wouldn’t stress Holly. And I would no longer bother them. 4 I went in for the required pre-operative check-up. The doctor showed me the ultrasound. The baby’s tiny hands and feet were perfectly formed. “He’s perfectly healthy,” she said. “Do you truly want to give up? You’re so far along. The induction process will be physically traumatic for you, and the baby will experience distress.” I reached out, running a finger over the small, fragile outline on the B-scan. My heart felt squeezed by an invisible hand. This was my blood. A vivid, living human being. I closed my eyes, the pain exploding in the darkness. “I apologize. I need more time to think.” The doctor nodded, giving me a few more instructions. When I left the examination room, I was trembling with cold. I looked up, and my eyes locked with Rhys Covington’s chilling glare. He was impeccably dressed in an expensive suit, the portrait of cold, calculated confidence. He strode toward me and gripped my wrist, his fingers bruising my skin. “The dramatics are over, Eliza.” When I didn’t respond, he irritably rubbed his temple. His voice was laced with impatience. “The will was never stamped or notarized. It’s useless. Holly has a congenital heart defect. I simply wanted to give her a meaningful gift to wish her good health.” It was a flimsy, pathetic defense. I found myself laughing—a hollow, hysterical sound that brought tears to my eyes. I pulled my hand free. The seven years of accumulated betrayal and rage burst forth. “A gift for good health? Why didn’t you give her a prayer bead? What about me, Rhys? What did I get?” He flinched. The words tumbled out of me, raw and uncontrolled. “When we first married, I was hospitalized for a bleeding ulcer. You wouldn’t take my calls; you said you were pulling an all-nighter at the office. But Holly sent me pictures—you were with her, watching a fashion show in Paris.” “On our anniversary, you told me you were traveling for work. I saw on her social media that you were standing in line for three hours to buy her a trendy bubble tea.” “Every single prenatal appointment, you claimed you were too busy. Yet you had time to take her to art exhibits, shopping trips, and birthday dinners.” “You even went to Disneyland to watch fireworks with her when I nearly miscarried and bled out. Was I just some cheap fool, Rhys? Was I that pathetic?” Each accusation had once been a shard of glass, ripping me apart. Yet now, in the speaking of them, I realized the wound was finally scabbing over, hiding the poison within. Rhys’s face drained of color. His eyes finally showed a flicker of panic. “You… you knew all this?” The sheer arrogance of his surprise was hilarious. He truly believed he was a master manipulator. I managed a pained smile, even as tears rained down my cheeks. “I just chose not to say anything, Rhys. I’m not an idiot.” “I kept pretending. I kept believing that the man who loved me, the one who made that vow, would eventually come home.” I dug my nails into my palms until I tasted blood. I forced my smile wider, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. “That lie died with the will. I can’t deceive myself anymore.” A flash of genuine remorse crossed his features—the regret I had spent seven years dreaming of seeing. But it was too late. I spoke slowly, deliberately. “I am keeping this child.” “But he will have nothing to do with you or the Covington name.” I turned and walked away. He reached out to stop me but hesitated, unable to make physical contact. A week later, David Sinclair told me Rhys was refusing to sign the papers. “Eliza, if you insist on a divorce, we have to go the litigation route.” “Mr. Covington stated that if you fight him, he will use every resource at his disposal to gain full custody.” David looked utterly defeated. I gently rubbed my belly and fell silent. I knew Rhys was capable of winning. And I—aside from the child and the empty title of Mrs. Covington—had nothing. David added, “If the opposing party decides to stall, a custody fight could drag on for years.” I took a deep breath. “I will not let my baby be born into a situation like that.” “I will find a way to make him agree to the divorce.”

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