Category: English

My husband was “sick” again. He lay in bed, trembling under the duvet, claiming he was too terrified to even call in to work. He looked so fragile, so broken by the pressure of his “accounting job,” that I felt a pang of maternal protection. When I offered to call his supervisor for him, he gripped my wrist, his eyes wide with a desperate, almost feral plea. He begged me not to. He begged me to stay away from his office. I relented, stroking his hair until he seemed to drift off, but the guilt gnawed at me. We were drowning in debt. We were living in a studio where the wallpaper peeled like sunburnt skin because he had “lost everything” in a failed startup years ago. I couldn’t let him lose this job, too. So, I went. I took the bus to the address on his pay stub, rehearsing a speech about a sudden flu and a dedicated employee. But when I stepped into the lobby of the gleaming glass-and-steel skyscraper in the Financial District, the air felt different. Expensive. Cold. The receptionist looked at me as if I were a smudge on a Da Vinci. Her eyes swept over my faded Target cardigan and my scuffed heels—shoes I’d worn for five years because we “couldn’t afford” new ones. “I’m here to speak with Nate’s manager,” I said, my voice small. “Nate Miller. He’s an accountant here.” The woman’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Are you joking? There is no ‘accountant’ here named Nate Miller.” “I… I have his pay stub,” I stammered, reaching into my purse. “Ma’am,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a tone of pitying disbelief. “Nathaniel Miller is the Founder and CEO of this firm. And Mr. Miller arrives every morning with his wife. They just went up to the executive suite together.” My heart didn’t just break; it shattered, the shards slicing into my lungs. “His wife?” “Yes. And, forgive me, but you don’t look like her.” The elevator dings. The doors slid open. There he was. My husband, the man who had been “trembling in bed” an hour ago, was now draped in a bespoke charcoal suit that probably cost more than our annual rent. His arm was wrapped firmly around the waist of a woman who looked like she’d stepped off a Parisian runway. Madison. His “one that got away.” The girl he told me was a “painful memory” from his college days. 1. Our eyes met. His practiced, charismatic smile curdled on his face. I looked at him—this stranger in high-end wool—and a laugh bubbled up in my throat, hot and salty with tears. “That watch,” I whispered, pointing at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. “It’s worth my entire yearly salary. And yet, for seven years, you’ve played the part of the struggling clerk making fifty grand a year.” The lobby went silent. The security guards shifted uncomfortably. “You told me your startup went bust. I sold my parents’ house—the only thing they left me—to plug the holes in your ‘debt.’ I spent my days coding until my eyes bled and my nights working the graveyard shift at a 7-Eleven. I had a stomach ulcer from the stress and refused to go to the hospital because we ‘couldn’t afford’ the co-pay!” My voice rose to a shriek. “Tell me, Nate! Why? Why play this game with my life?” Nate stammered, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Madison, however, didn’t miss a beat. She reached out and delicately gripped my wrist, her silk sleeve brushing my skin. “Caitlin, don’t blame him,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “When he married you, he made a vow to me. He told me that everything he had—his body, his wealth, his future—belonged to me. You were just the placeholder. Don’t go coveting things that were never yours.” Seven years. I thought we were a team, a fortress against the world. It turns out I was just a supporting actress in a script I hadn’t been allowed to read. But I was his legal wife. I was the one who signed the papers. “Shut up, Madison. This isn’t your conversation,” I snapped, my eyes burning as I turned back to Nate. “Nate, look at me. Is this true? All of it?” Nate sighed, a sound of profound annoyance, as if I were a bug he’d forgotten to squash. “Caitlin, listen to me. I was afraid that if you became a ‘society wife,’ you’d lose your drive. I didn’t want to hurt your pride. Besides, didn’t you say you’d always take care of me? You said you loved me for me, not my money.” “Don’t you dare gaslight me!” My voice trembled with fury. “Seven years! We’ve been married for seven years! You didn’t know who I was by then? If I lacked drive, would I have sold my childhood home to save you? Would I have worked twenty-hour days to keep us afloat?” I took a step back, my footing uneven. My heel was worn down to the plastic—I’d been meaning to get them repaired for months but kept putting it off to save the thirty dollars. My gaze drifted to Madison. She was wearing Valentino pumps. A Tiffany HardWear bracelet sparkled on her wrist. I remembered Nate joking once, “When I make it big, I’m going to buy you so much jewelry you’ll have to hire a guard just to walk to the mailbox.” He had made it big. He just gave the jewelry to someone else. “What about her?” I asked, the bitterness coating my tongue. Nate glanced at Madison. “Maddie and I… we’re just partners. She’s looking to invest in the firm.” Madison’s face fell. “Nate!” He squeezed her hand, a silent signal, then looked back at me. “She’s my ex, Caitlin. You knew that. I never lied about my past. We’re working together now. That’s all.” “Then what did she mean by what she just said?” I demanded. Nate gave Madison a cautious look, his tone turning dismissive. “Oh, you know Maddie. She loves to stir the pot. She was just joking—” “I wasn’t joking,” Madison interrupted. “Nate, didn’t you tell me that on your wedding night? While you were on FaceTime with me while Caitlin was asleep right next to—” “Madison!” Nate barked. She shrugged, falling silent, but the damage was done. The floor seemed to fall away beneath me. Nate wouldn’t look me in the eye. His guilt was finally being overtaken by impatience. “Don’t listen to her. It’s nothing. Just go home, Caitlin. I have a meeting with a client. I’ll come back tonight and explain everything.” I took a deep breath, the cold air of the lobby stinging my throat. “You don’t need to explain anything.” “Nate, I want a divorce.” “I am done with you. Eight million dollars.” I looked him in the eye. “Eight words. One million for every year you stole, plus one for the house you took from me. It’s a bargain to get me out of your life and marry your ‘partner,’ don’t you think?” “Caitlin, be reasonable. Let’s go home and talk.” I cut him off. “Home? You mean the apartment with the moldy ceiling and the seven-hundred-dollar rent?” I started to laugh, a jagged, broken sound. His face shifted. People were starting to stare; the morning rush of employees was filling the lobby. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me toward the side exit. “Don’t make a scene here. It’s bad for business.” “Let go,” I hissed. He gripped tighter. “Is this what it’s about? Money? You think I’ve been holding out on you? You’ve lived off me for seven years, Caitlin. I’ve given you a roof and a bed. Isn’t that enough? You’re acting like a victim because you want a payday.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “I’ve slept with you for seven years for free. You should be grateful. And the more you act like a psycho in public, the less likely I am to give you a single cent.” I stared at him, paralyzed. I didn’t recognize this man. Or perhaps, I had never known him at all. Madison let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Come on, Nate. This is embarrassing. Didn’t you promise to buy me that new Birkin before our lunch meeting?” Nate didn’t even hesitate. “Of course. Anything you want. And we’ll stop by the dealership later—your lease is up, and you need something more impressive for the investors.” Madison threw me a triumphant look. “Hear that? Nate’s money is my money. You want eight million? You’re dreaming. But hey, you did a decent job taking care of him while I was gone. Tell you what—if you call me ‘Ma’am,’ I’ll talk Nate into buying you a new pair of shoes to replace those thrift-store tragedies you’re wearing.” That hurt more than a physical blow. I thought of the years I spent clipping coupons. The five-year-old winter coat I wore until the seams burst. The makeup I never bought. The nights at the convenience store being harassed by drunks while I worried about Nate’s “mental health.” The humiliation boiled over. As Madison leaned in, her face twisted in a smug sneer, I swung. I put every ounce of my seven years of resentment into a slap that echoed through the marble lobby. Madison staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek. Time stopped. Seconds later, she let out a piercing, hysterical shriek. “You bitch! You absolute loser! Nate! She hit me!” Nate reacted instantly. He stepped in front of Madison, cupping her face with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. “Caitlin, have you lost your mind?” He raised his hand. I didn’t even have time to flinch before his palm connected with my face. The world blurred. My cheek burned with a white-hot sting. “Don’t you touch her!” I screamed through the pain. “I’ll do more than touch you!” Nate roared. “You think you’re special? You’re a low-level coder who can’t even get a promotion. If you were worth anything, would you still be working a register at midnight after seven years of marriage? You’re a failure, Caitlin. You’re stagnant. You’re a loser.” He leaned closer, his eyes cold and dark. “Do you know how embarrassing it is to tell people you’re my wife? I tell everyone you’re the maid. I’m ashamed of you.” I felt a warm trickle down my lip. Blood. The metallic taste filled my mouth. I thought of all the times my boss had piled extra work on me because he knew I was desperate for the money to pay Nate’s “debts.” I’d never told Nate because I didn’t want him to worry. And now, my sacrifices were the weapons he was using to disembowel me. I looked at them both, my voice raspy and cold. “Nate, from this moment on, we are through.” He blinked, momentarily stunned. “What?” “You think eight million is too much? Fine. We’ll let the lawyers decide. I want every penny you hid. I want half of this company—the company you built with my parents’ inheritance. I want half of the cars, the houses, and the bags you bought her. I’m going to take you for every cent you’re worth.” Madison looked up, her eyes narrowing. “In your dreams.” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked toward the glass doors. Every step sent a throb of pain through my face. Every step, I felt the blood cooling on my chin. But I kept my back straight. You can break a woman’s heart, but you can’t take her spine. By the time I left the lawyer’s office, the sun had long since set. I dragged myself back to the apartment we shared. When I opened the door, a large Rimowa suitcase sat open in the middle of the living room. Nate was tossing his silk shirts into it. Madison was curled up on our sagging sofa, scrolling through her phone. “You’re back?” Nate said, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather. “Good. I have something to tell you.” “Madison has a heart condition. That slap you gave her triggered an episode. The doctor says she needs constant supervision. I’ll be staying at her place for a while.” I walked over and picked up a box of Magnums from the corner of his suitcase. “Is this part of her ‘heart medication’?” He snatched them out of my hand, looking annoyed. “They got caught in my laundry. Don’t be hysterical. I know you’re upset about today, but Madison needs me right now. I’ll come back in a few days to explain things when you’ve calmed down.” Needs me. When he needed someone to sacrifice their future, I was there. Now that I needed him to be a human being, he was with her. “Fine,” I said. I walked into the bedroom. I opened the closet and started pulling out the rest of his things. When I got to the photos, I paused. A framed picture from our wedding day. I was radiant. He looked like he’d won the lottery. “Caitlin, what are you doing?” he asked, following me in. There was a flicker of genuine panic in his voice now. “You said you were leaving.” I didn’t look at him as I tossed the frame into the trash bag. “I said for a few days—” “No. You’re leaving for good. Take your things, take the woman who ‘needs’ you, and get out.” Nate lunged for the trash bag, retrieving the wedding photo and placing it carefully back on the dresser. “Stop acting out. I’ll be back as soon as she’s stable.” Madison appeared in the doorway. “Nate, I just sent you the pitch deck for my new venture. It’s a guaranteed win. Can you take a look?” Nate barely glanced at his phone before nodding. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll have the CFO wire ten million to your account tomorrow.” Ten million. I thought of the 7-Eleven shifts. The thousands of lines of code I’d written for freelance pittance. I would have to work several lifetimes to see ten million dollars. Madison saw me looking at the phone. She smirked. “Jealous, Caitlin? You want to try your hand at business? Or are you just going to stare at my deck?” Nate scoffed. “Please. She doesn’t know a bull market from a flea market. If she tried to trade, she’d lose her shirt in ten minutes. She’s built to be an employee, nothing more.” I cut him off, my voice like ice. “Are you finished?” He blinked. “Then get out. Get out of my apartment.” “Caitlin, this is our—” “No. I pay the rent. I pay the utilities. I bought every piece of furniture in here while you were ‘bankrupt.’ You haven’t contributed a dime to this household in seven years. You’re a squatter. Leave. Now.” He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He knew I was right. For seven years, I had funneled every spare cent into his “debts” while he spent his millions on Madison. “Fine,” Nate said, his voice hardening. “I’m going. But don’t come crawling back when you realize how cold the world is without me.” “Go.” The door slammed shut. The silence that followed was deafening—the hum of the old fridge, the thump of my own heart. I sank to the floor and finally let the tears come. My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. It was a photo. Nate, fast asleep in a plush hotel bed, Madison’s head resting on his bare chest. The caption read: Thanks for letting him go. He’s finally where he belongs. I stared at the photo for a long time. Then, I typed back: You’re welcome. Thanks for taking out the trash. My private investigator had told me Nate was careful—never any physical proof of cheating. Well, now I had it. The next morning, I stood in the HR office of the tech firm where I worked. The paper in front of me was a joke. Embezzlement? $3.2 million? “This is absurd,” I said to the HR Director. “I’m a lead dev. I handle code, not wire transfers. I don’t even have the authorization for an amount that large.” The Director looked at me with a flicker of pity behind his glasses. “The company was acquired over the weekend, Caitlin. The new ownership flagged the discrepancy.” “Who bought us?” “A holding company. Owned by a Madison Vance.” I didn’t wait. I stormed upstairs to the executive suite. I shoved past the secretary and burst into the corner office. Madison was sitting behind the mahogany desk. Nate was standing by the window, looking over some files. “Ah, the star developer arrives,” Madison said, her smile razor-sharp. “Or should I say, the former star developer?” “Nate, this audit is a lie,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. “Any purchase over ten thousand requires three levels of approval. I don’t have signing authority. The system logs will prove I never touched those accounts.” Nate finally looked at me. “The logs were hit by a ‘hacker’ last night, Caitlin. Most of the data was wiped. Strangely, the only records left are the ones tied to your credentials.” A cold realization washed over me. “I built the security architecture for this company. I wrote the firewall rules. You’re telling me someone bypassed my encryption just to frame me for a mid-level embezzlement?” Madison leaned back in the chair. “Internal jobs are always the easiest, aren’t they? A few modified log files, a few forged invoices… light work for a genius like you.” “You tampered with the database.” Madison stood up. “Talk is cheap. The evidence says you stole three million dollars. You’re looking at a massive civil suit and potentially prison time. Unless…” she leaned in, “you want to get on your knees and beg? Maybe I’ll tell Nate to go easy on the damages.” I felt like I was going to throw up. “Nate? You’re going along with this? You’ve lied to me for seven years, and now you’re trying to destroy my life? Why? Do you hate me that much?” His face went pale for a second. Madison lunged forward, grabbing my arm. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” “Get off me!” I shoved her back. “You want me to beg? You want me to crawl like a dog? In your dreams. I’m not paying a cent, and I’m not admitting to a crime I didn’t commit. Call the police. I’ll see you in court.” Nate’s lip trembled. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Madison was faster. “Nate, go grab a coffee. Let me handle this ‘negotiation.’” He hesitated, then turned and walked out, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. The moment he was gone, Madison’s mask dropped. “Let’s be real, Caitlin. You’re just bitter because Nate chose me. You’re bitter because the divorce settlement won’t be as big as you hoped. You’re bitter because of that photo I sent.” I froze. “Oh, did that hit a nerve? It was a great night, by the way. Nate was… inspired. We went through three boxes of condoms.” The blood roared in my ears. “What do you want, Madison?” “I want you to admit you lost. Nate’s mine. His heart, his money, his future. This company is mine. You’re just trash that needs to be cleared out. Sign a waiver, walk away with nothing, and never file for divorce. Do that, and the ’embezzlement’ charges vanish.” “Three million dollars, Caitlin. Think about how many years of ‘graveyard shifts’ that would take to pay back.” Something snapped. The logic, the restraint, the years of playing the “good wife”—it all vanished. I lunged at her, pinning her against the desk, my hand raised to strike. The door flew open. Nate stood there, his face contorted with rage. Madison whimpered, touching a corner of her mouth where there wasn’t even any blood. “Nate! She’s attacking me again! I tried to be nice, and she just snapped!” “I didn’t—” “Enough!” Nate yelled. He spoke into his intercom. Two large security guards appeared instantly. They grabbed my arms, wrenching them behind my back. One of them kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to the floor. My face was pressed against the cold plush carpet. “Madison,” Nate said, his voice devoid of any humanity. “Whatever she did to you, give it back.” Madison walked over, her heels clicking like a countdown. She stopped right in front of my face. Then, she ground the stiletto of her Valentino pump into my cheek. “This is for the lobby,” she whispered. Then, she kicked me. Hard. My nose shattered. The warmth of the blood was the only thing I could feel. I didn’t even feel the pain—just a profound, hollow sense of irony. Seven years of devotion. This was the dividend. “You’re pathetic, Caitlin,” Nate said from somewhere above me. “I’m calling the police. Let’s see how tough you are behind bars.” His phone rang. He looked at the screen, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. He answered it. As he listened, his face went from pale to ghostly. He hung up and looked at me, his voice a ghost of itself. “You… you actually served me? The divorce papers… you filed them this morning?”

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I was so dumb. Dumb enough that when my husband brought another woman home, I thought he found me a new playmate. After all, Ethan was the first person who chased away my bullies and was willing to marry me. That is, until he brought his mistress home again and laughed while telling her, “She’s a dimwit. She won’t make a scene, and she won’t cry.” This time, I didn’t laugh with him. Chapter 1 I stared down at the floor, twisting my fingers, watching the ash from his cigarette drift down. “Get out,” I said softly, as light as the ash itself. “What did you say?” Ethan cocked his head, looking into my eyes, smiling as he asked. Every time he thought I said something funny, he’d look at me like that. I counted the planks on the wooden floor. One, two, three… When I got to the sixth, I said, “This is my room. You two get out.” The woman hugged him from behind. “Babe, what are you still doing? I can’t wait.” I remembered her name was Linda. She was Ethan’s secretary. Her voice always sounded strange, like she was deliberately tightening her throat. Ethan stubbed out his cigarette on the doorframe and kissed her neck. “Hold on, can’t you see someone’s causing trouble?” He turned back and patted my head. This time he patted it hard, making my head wobble. “Be a good girl and go sleep in the guest room tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to buy a new dress.” I looked up, my gaze landing on a scar on his collarbone. It was from a fight he got into for me. He used a beer bottle to smash the head of a guy who tried to pull my pants down. A shard of glass had cut him too. Blood dripped onto my hand, warm. I stared at that blood for a long time. Until he scolded me, “Little dummy, don’t you know how to be scared?” Now, that red scar rose and fell gently with his breathing. Next to it was a smear of lipstick, a different shade of red. I said his name, emphasizing each syllable, “E-than.” “I’m not going to the guest room.” He frowned. “Don’t make a scene. Listen to me.” I spoke slowly, “My room. My bed. You two get out.” Linda covered her mouth and giggled. Ethan’s face darkened. He stopped petting my head and instead grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the room. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you annoying me right now?” He was strong, and I had no choice but to be dragged along. One of my slippers fell off, and my bare foot slapped against the cold floor, slap, slap, slap. The hallway lights were dim, shining on our wedding photo on the wall. In the photo, he was looking down and kissing my forehead, while I stared at the camera with wide eyes and a blank expression. The photographer had said, “Bride, give us a smile.” I tried hard to pull the corners of my mouth up. But Ethan said, “Nah, don’t smile. It’s better like this. Pure.” Now I knew what he probably meant was, “purely stupid.” Stupid enough that no one would respect me. Chapter 2 Ethan dragged me to the door of the guest room and tried to shove me inside. I braced myself against the doorframe. My fingers dug into the wood, my knuckles turning white. This action required a lot of coordination. My brain had to command my fingers to bend, my arms to use strength, and my feet to stand firm. For me, it was like commanding a disobedient army. It was tiring and slow. But I did it. Ethan looked at me in surprise. He probably didn’t expect me to resist. All these years, I had never resisted him. I ate what he told me to eat. I wore what he told me to wear. I smiled when he told me to smile. “June, that’s enough. Stop being stupid,” he called me by my full name, impatience in his voice. I looked up and met his eyes. “I am not stupid. I am just slow to react. But I remember.” “March 17th, 11:00 PM. You said you were discussing business. Lipstick stain on your shirt, brownish-red.” “June 9th, 3:00 PM. You said you were on a business trip. Hotel photo. The shadows and the angle of the sun didn’t match.” “August…” “Shut the hell up! What kind of weird habit is this!?” Ethan yanked me into the room and threw me onto the bed. He glared at me fiercely and left, slamming the door shut. The lock clicked. He had locked it from the outside. The light in the guest room was broken. It was dark, with no color. He probably didn’t remember the light was broken, or maybe he didn’t remember I was afraid of the dark. I was scared. Curled up at the head of the bed, I said to the closed door, “Ethan. Divorce.” “Let’s get a divorce.” Chapter 3 The next morning, the housekeeper let me out. When I went downstairs, Ethan was sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper. Linda was next to him, eating porridge. She was sitting in my seat, using my small flowered bowl. “Good morning, sister.” She held the spoon in her mouth and blinked at me. “My bowl.” I stared at the small flowered bowl. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. She looked ridiculous. “Sorry, sister. I’m pregnant with Ethan’s baby. Ethan said everything in the house belongs to me and the baby. I thought he had told you too.” Ethan looked at her adoringly and didn’t say anything. She rubbed her belly. “Sister’s strange illness is hereditary, so she can’t have children. I’m suffering in sister’s place. I’m just using your bowl and chopsticks. Sister isn’t that stingy, right?” I looked down and counted my toes. Five on the left foot, five on the right foot. Ten in total. “The chopsticks are Ethan’s. The bowl is mine. Mom gave it to me.” When I was little, my mom used this bowl to feed me. After she died, I used this bowl to eat by myself. Ethan frowned. “June, cut the crap. We’re all family. Why are you being so petty?” Linda gently patted Ethan twice, stood up, held the bowl, and walked up to me. “This bowl is quite unique. Can you give it to me, sister? Let my baby share some of your blessings.” I shook my head. “No blessings. Mom is gone.” Ethan’s face darkened. “June, what the hell are you talking about? Why are you saying such unlucky things?” Linda squeezed out a sweet smile. “It’s okay, Ethan. Sister is intellectually disabled. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. I don’t mind.” “Give it back.” I reached out to grab the bowl. The small flowered bowl slipped from her hands, fell to the floor, and shattered. She screamed and fell to the ground, pushing me in the process. I fell too, and it hurt a little. Then she sat on the floor and started crying. “What’s going on?” Ethan’s face changed, and he stood up. He stepped over me and hugged Linda. Linda buried her face in his shoulder and cried, pears bathed in rain. “Ethan… she, she suddenly attacked me… her mind isn’t right to begin with, I… I’m scared…” “I was afraid she would hurt the baby… I just wanted to protect our child…” Ethan patted her head with heartache and didn’t even glance at me. “Don’t be scared, baby isn’t scared. It’s okay now. I’m here.” He used to say similar things to me when it thundered. He picked up Linda and ordered the housekeeper, “Call an ambulance, quick!” Then he pointed his finger at me. “June, if anything happens to the child, I will never forgive you!” The housekeeper walked over carefully. “Ma’am, you first…” “I am not ‘Ma’am’ anymore.” Ethan was stunned for a moment, but he continued to hold Linda and left without looking back. I climbed up, endured the pain, and began to pick up the broken pieces. One piece, two pieces, three pieces… Chapter 4 I lay on the hospital bed, looking out the window and listening to the noise outside the ward. “Yes, Mrs. Chen suffers from Kabuki syndrome and skeletal dysplasia. This time it’s only a minor fracture. If there are no other problems, she can go home after it’s set. She needs to be very careful in the future and cannot…” “Who asked about her? How’s Linda? Is the pregnancy affected?” “Ms. Linda currently shows no problems…” “Then check again! If there’s even the slightest problem with the mother or child, I’ll hold you responsible!” After a while, it became quiet outside. A young doctor walked into the ward. He wore a light blue shirt under his white coat and thin-rimmed glasses. “Mrs. Chen, I am your attending physician. My name is Gu, Dr. Gu.” “June.” I spoke slowly. “I am June. Not Mrs. Chen.” Dr. Gu raised an eyebrow, smiled, and nodded. “Alright, Ms. June. May I examine you?” “Okay.” He took out a small flashlight and carefully observed my eyes. “Any dizziness?” “A little.” He took out several cards with patterns on them. “Can you tell me what’s drawn on these?” “I don’t know.” Dr. Gu was startled. “You can… try to interpret them in your own way.” I took the cards and placed them where the light was even. I told him the color code corresponding to each color block. His expression gradually became solemn. “Besides color, what else are you sensitive to?” I thought for a while. “Time. Memory. I remember every second. Remember the traces of dust.” “Then from the moment I opened the door and came in until now…” “Three minutes and seven seconds… eight seconds… nine seconds…” He stood up, hurried out, and then came back with some things. I did some strange tests. He asked me to distinguish subtle frequencies and memorize complicated pattern sequences. I did them one by one. “Ms. June.” Dr. Gu’s expression was serious. “Your perception ability… I have never seen a similar case. I sincerely invite you to join our research institute. We need your gift. You can consider it.” I didn’t really understand. Since childhood, others said I was stupid, said my brain had problems. But I still agreed. “Okay. Is there a salary?” Dr. Gu didn’t expect me to agree so quickly, and he nodded quickly. “Of course, I promise it will be very generous. I’ll report it right away. The relevant department will definitely attach great importance to it and treat you as a treasure. I look forward to your recovery as soon as possible and becoming my colleague.” “Okay.” He shook hands with me in a friendly manner and stood up to leave. At the door, he suddenly turned his head again and smiled. “Your eyes are really beautiful, like they were painted.” Chapter 5 After returning, I lay in the guest room again. I didn’t like the guest room. But they said the master bedroom faced the sun, which was good for pregnant women. So I couldn’t sleep in the master bedroom, couldn’t sleep in my own bed. In the evening, Ethan came to bring me food. He carefully blew on the porridge and fed it to my mouth. “June, I know you’re upset. When the child is born, I’ll make him call you Mom, okay? Don’t you want to be a mother?” “But for now, just stay in your room and don’t go out. After Linda gives birth, I’ll take you out to buy a new dress. I’ll buy you all the dresses in the entire mall, okay?” I picked at the bedsheet, counting the patterns on it. One, two, three… “Small flowered bowl.” Ethan’s hand holding the spoon stopped. “Huh?” “Small flowered bowl broke.” “It’s okay, I’ll order an identical one for you.” I shook my head. “Not the same. Already broken.” “Ethan. We divorce.” The spoon fell into the bowl with a crisp clatter. “June, are you done yet? Divorce? How will you live without me? Who will care for you, feed you, dress you? Who remembers you’re scared of the dark and thunder?” He reached out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. “What are you fussing about? What right do you have to fuss? Can you give me children? Give birth to a fool like you? Huh?” I shook off his hand and lowered my head. “I am not a fool. Ethan. We divorce.” Ethan stood up with a sneer. “June, I don’t know where you learned this, but I advise you to quit while you’re ahead and not push your luck.” “You’re a fool who doesn’t even dodge or cry when hit. How long could you live without me?” “Reflect on it properly.” Ethan slammed the door and left. I didn’t know why he was angry. I couldn’t give him children. If we divorced, he should be happy, right? He said I was a fool, wouldn’t dodge, wouldn’t cry. I thought he was more like a fool, not knowing what he wanted at all. But I knew what I wanted.

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On the third day of my mission to capture Tristan’s heart, he confessed his feelings to me. But the affection meter floating above his head clearly read a solid 0! After we made it official, he spoiled me rotten. On our sixth anniversary, he proposed in a spectacular, high-profile way. As I was nodding with tears in my eyes, a barrage of live comments suddenly floated across my vision: [The Second Male Lead must be so exhausted acting. To protect the Female Lead, he endured his disgust and played along with the Vicious Supporting Female for 6 whole years!] [This substitute really bought into her role, LMAO!] My blood instantly froze. No wonder that number hadn’t changed in six years. At the same time, the system’s cold, mechanical voice exploded in my mind: “Final phase initiated. Capture countdown: Ten days.” “Upon failure, you will be completely obliterated.” Smiling, I pulled back the hand he was about to put the ring on and wiped my tears. “Sorry, but I’m tired of playing this dating game.” 1. The holographic comments were still scrolling past my eyes: [Whoa, did the supporting girl’s expression just change?] [She should’ve woken up a long time ago. The Second Male Lead only has the Female Lead in his heart.] [Sitting here waiting for her to go crazy and turn evil—] Turn evil? No. I just suddenly remembered a lot of details. He never allowed me to meet anyone alone, claiming he was “worried about bad influences.” He always gently interrupted whenever I brought up my career: “I make enough to take care of you.” It turned out that wasn’t him spoiling me. It was a cage. I returned to our shared mansion in a daze, mechanically throwing my things into a suitcase. As I passed the study, the comments suddenly surged: [Look at the computer! Tristan didn’t log out of his messages!] [Oh no, if she sees his chat history, it’s over…] [Danger! Initiate Female Lead Protection Protocol!] A crisp notification chime echoed from the study. I pushed the door open and walked in. The monitor was glowing, displaying a chat window between Tristan and the Male Lead, Carter. The latest message was sent by Tristan: “She suddenly rejected the proposal. Protect Chloe these next few days. Don’t let Harper anywhere near her.” Carter replied quickly: “Don’t worry. Thanks for your hard work all these years.” I laughed out loud. How absurd. Because of me, two men who used to be bitter rivals had formed a united front. I scrolled up. The chat history sliced through my skin like a dull knife. Carter: “I remember in the original plot, Harper not only ruined Chloe’s face but also hired guys to assault her. It must be so hard for you to share a bed with that venomous woman every day.” Tristan: “As long as Chloe is safe, none of this matters.” Carter: “She seems to be falling deeper in love with you. If she finds out the truth, will she go even crazier?” Tristan: “She won’t find out.” “And if she does, and dares to touch a hair on Chloe’s head—” “I’ll break her arms and legs, throw her in a psych ward, and lock her up for the rest of her life.” He even added an exclamation mark to that last sentence. I stared at the screen, my fingertips turning to ice. The comments were boiling over: [“None of this matters”… The Second Male Lead loves her so much! I won’t say who!] [Am I the only one who thinks this conversation is terrifying? Setting someone up for six years just to protect the Female Lead?] [To the person above: She’s a vicious extra! He’s doing society a favor while protecting his true love. It’s a win-win!] [Look at the supporting girl’s face… is she about to snap?] [Stop causing trouble and just run away!] Run? I looked down at my slender wrists. Yeah. I needed to run. It was pitch black by the time I dragged my suitcase out the front door. I stood on the sidewalk, momentarily unsure of where to go. The comments were getting anxious on my behalf: [Is she really leaving?] [Hurry up and go! Don’t ruin the sweet moments between the Second Male Lead and the Female Lead!] [Wait… is that car in the distance Tristan’s?!] Headlights pierced the darkness, and a familiar black sedan slammed on its brakes right next to me. Tristan got out and ran over. His dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, his breathing heavy, and his face wore a perfectly crafted mask of panic and heartbreak. “Harper, I’m sorry. I rushed it… I thought you’d be happy.” He reached out to grab my hand, his eyes turning red. “Don’t leave. Let’s sit down and talk, okay?” If this were the past, my heart would have melted into a puddle. But now, all I could think of was the phrase break her arms and legs and lock her up. I took a half-step back, dodging his touch. “I don’t blame you,” I heard my own voice say, light and airy. “I’m just bored of this.” “Bored…?” His eyelashes fluttered, acting as if he couldn’t comprehend the word. “You don’t love me anymore?” Under the streetlights, his features were tinged with a shattered vulnerability. His acting was so flawless he deserved an Oscar. A single comment drifted by: [Honestly, his kindness to her these past six years couldn’t have been entirely fake… this is kind of heartbreaking.] That sentence suddenly woke me up. I raised my head and looked deeply into his eyes. “Tristan.” “In these six years, was there even a single second… where you genuinely felt happy?” His pupils shrank infinitesimally. He didn’t answer. But the comments exploded: [!!! Did she find out?!] [Holy shit, high alert—] [Tristan, don’t just stand there! Make up a lie!!] The wind was freezing. I grabbed my suitcase, turned around, and vanished into the night. No footsteps chased after me. Only the clear, rhythmic ticking of the countdown echoed in my mind: 9 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes. —The game wasn’t over yet. But the player was done following the rules. 2. I hailed a cab and leaned against the cold window, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Not out of fear. Out of excitement. So this was what it felt like to strip away a six-year facade. It felt like I could finally take a deep breath. The countdown flashed coldly in my peripheral vision: 9 days, 23 hours, 10 minutes. I had less than ten days to live. All because of a man who would never love me. How ridiculous. “Where to, miss?” the driver asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. I gave him an address. It was a riverside café I used to love. Tristan had once told me it was “too loud and chaotic.” He never let me go back after that. The comments drifted across my vision: [Where is she going? Why isn’t she running away?] [Tristan’s last look was terrifying…] [Is it just me, or does she look absolutely stunning in that red dress?] Outside the window, the neon lights of the city blurred past. For the past six years, I had lived inside a glass dome. Everything I saw was a sanitized version of the world, filtered by Tristan. Now, the glass was shattered. The wind poured in, bringing with it the smell of street food, the damp river breeze, and the laughter of strangers. It felt so real it made me want to cry. The café was exactly where it used to be. The bell above the door chimed as I pushed it open. The owner, Dave, a man with a graying beard, paused when he saw me. “Harper?” “Dave. Long time no see.” “It really is you!” He wiped his hands on his apron and stepped out from behind the counter. “It’s been what, five or six years? You used to love that window seat. You’d order a latte and write screenplays all afternoon…” Only then did I remember. Before I met Tristan, I used to come here to write my thesis. I was a film student back then, dreaming of winning an Academy Award, scribbling margin notes all over my scripts. And then what happened? Then Tristan said, “Acting is too exhausting. Let me take care of you.” He said, “Hollywood is too toxic. It doesn’t suit you.” He said, “Harper, having me is enough.” And like an idiot, I believed him. I skipped my auditions, turned down contracts, locked my dreams in a drawer, and handed him the key. “The usual?” Dave asked. “Yeah,” I paused. “And add a slice of tiramisu.” I never dared to eat it before. Tristan used to tell me I “gained weight easily and wouldn’t look good on camera.” But I only had ten days left. What did it matter if I gained weight? The window seat was empty. I sat down. The river breeze brushed my face, and the city lights on the opposite bank reflected in the dark water, shattering into ripples of liquid gold. As I took the first bite of cake, the sweet cream and the bitter coffee-soaked ladyfingers melted on my tongue. I closed my eyes. It was so delicious. So this was what it felt like to be alive. The comments went quiet for a moment before slowly resuming: [She’s eating so earnestly…] [Why do I feel inexplicably sad?] [If I only had ten days left to live, I’d want a good meal too.] [But seriously, is Tristan really going to let her be this free? I doubt it.] I doubted it too. So when my phone buzzed with Tristan’s name on the caller ID, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. I answered but didn’t speak. “Harper, where are you?” “I’m worried about you,” his voice carried a trace of exhaustion. “I’m eating.” “Come home, Harper,” he softened his tone. “We both need to calm down. I promise I won’t bother you tonight. You can sleep in the guest room. We’ll talk things out tomorrow, okay?” Such a familiar cadence. For six years, every time I threw a tantrum, he acted exactly like this. Gently, patiently coaxing me back into the cage, step by step. And then everything would return to the status quo. “Tristan,” I said, staring out at the river. “Do you remember my senior thesis film?” He went silent for a moment. “Why bring that up now?” “I played a captive woman who, in the end, burned the house down with herself inside it.” I scooped up another bite of cake. “You told me the acting was too extreme. You said no one in real life would be that stupid.” “But I understand it now.” “She wasn’t stupid. It was just that the fire was the only thing she had left.” The breathing on the other end of the line grew heavier. “What exactly are you trying to say?” “I’m trying to say,” I swallowed the last bite of cake, “for the next ten days, I’m going to live my own life.” “Don’t look for me. Don’t bother me. Don’t threaten me using my family.” “After ten days, if I’m still alive…” I let out a soft laugh. “Then we can go back to playing your game.” 3. I checked into the most expensive presidential suite in the city, swiping the supplementary black card Tristan had given me. The comments were still flowing: [A presidential suite??? She really knows how to enjoy herself.] [Using the Second Male Lead’s money to stay in a luxury hotel. Legend.] [She only has ten days left. Let her splurge!] I dropped my suitcase in the foyer and sank into a bathtub covered in rose petals. The countdown ticked in my mind: 8 days, 14 hours, 32 minutes. I had eight and a half days left. My phone was eerily quiet. Tristan hadn’t called back. That was very unlike him. Deep into the night, I was lying on the massive California King bed. The comments were sparse: [Is she really sleeping? She’s got nerves of steel.] [What is the Second Male Lead doing? I think he’s tracking her phone’s GPS.] [Honestly, this feeling of being constantly monitored is suffocating.] Just as I was drifting off, a violent crash echoed from the front of the suite. I jolted upright. The comments instantly exploded: [WTF WAS THAT SOUND?!] [Someone’s kicking the door down!!!] [Is it Tristan???] [Help, I’m so tense!] Before I could react, the bedroom door was violently kicked open. Tristan stood in the doorway. His eyes were completely bloodshot, looking like a man pushed to the absolute edge of fury. “Harper.” His voice was hoarse as he walked toward me, step by heavy step. I instinctively grabbed the collar of my bathrobe. He stopped in front of me, his shadow entirely engulfing me. “Where is Chloe?” I froze. “What?” “Stop acting.” He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight my bones ached. “Where did you kidnap Chloe? Tell me!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about—” I tried to pull away, but he squeezed harder. The comments were scrolling at lightspeed: [What’s going on? The Female Lead got kidnapped?] [By the supporting girl? Impossible, she’s been at the hotel the whole time!] [The timeline doesn’t match up. She didn’t have time to hire kidnappers!] [Tristan has lost his damn mind!] “Tristan, let me go!” I gasped in pain. “I haven’t even seen Chloe! I’ve been here the whole—” “Harper, I underestimated you.” “You put on such a great show of being heartbroken, only to turn around and kidnap Chloe? You really are a venomous bitch.” “I didn’t do it,” I said through gritted teeth. He violently shoved me back onto the mattress, leaning over and pinning me by placing his hands on either side of my head. “I’m giving you one last chance. Where is Chloe? What did you do to her?” His breath hit my face, carrying an almost psychotic hostility. In six years, I had never seen this side of him. The comments began to split: [Tristan is terrifying…] [But if the supporting girl really kidnapped the FL, she deserves it, right?] [Read the room! She didn’t have time to commit the crime!] [Could this be a setup?] “I told you, I don’t know.” “Tristan, look at me. Have I ever lied to you in the past six years?” His pupils contracted. He wavered for a split second. “The location where Chloe’s phone signal disappeared,” he looked down at me, his gaze like a poisoned blade, “was the exact same café you went to.” My blood ran cold. A trap. Someone had set a trap. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t…” My voice started to tremble. “Enough!” He abruptly stood up and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. Grabbing my hand, he pressed the cold steel edge directly against my wrist. “Harper.” His voice was horrifyingly low. “I know you hate Chloe. I know you hate her for stealing me away—even though I never belonged to you to begin with. But you don’t get to touch her.” “I’m going to ask you one last time! Where is Chloe?” The blade bit into the flesh of my wrist. Bright red blood instantly welled up. Agony shot through my veins like an electric current. My vision went dark, and I nearly passed out. The comments were going insane: [He’s lost it! He’s completely lost it!] [I’m starting to feel bad for the supporting girl… she legitimately looks clueless.] [Harper, say something! Even if you have to lie!] I opened my mouth, a broken, breathy sound escaping my throat: “I… didn’t…” 4. Crimson blood stained the pristine white sheets. Tristan’s hand was like an iron vice, locking my wrist in place. The blade remained buried in my flesh. Every heartbeat brought a fresh wave of tearing agony. “One last time,” his voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. “Where is Chloe?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My vision began to blur. All I could see was his clenched jaw and the manic, bloodthirsty redness in his eyes. The comments flooded in like a tidal wave: [She’s fading fast…] [Tristan, let go! She’s actually going to die!] [Can someone call 911?! This is literally attempted murder!] [Where the hell is the system?! Are they just going to ignore this level of violence?!] The system remained dead silent. Right. In a capture-target game, the life of the supporting female character was never a priority. I was just an NPC. A stumbling block on the protagonists’ path to true love. A malicious background prop meant to highlight the Female Lead’s kindness. But I could feel pain. Real, agonizing pain. “Still won’t talk?” Tristan pressed the blade down another fraction of an inch. I heard the faint sound of skin tearing, followed by a warmer, heavier flow of blood. Black spots danced in my vision, like static on an old television set. Just as I thought I was actually going to die right then and there— Tristan’s phone rang. The moment he saw the caller ID, his pupils dilated. He answered it almost instantly: “Chloe?” From the other end came a woman’s intermittent sobbing: “Tristan… I-I escaped…” “They took me to an abandoned warehouse on the west side… they all ran away…” “…I’m so scared…” “Don’t be scared! I’m on my way!” Tristan’s tone shifted instantly. The ruthless cruelty vanished, replaced by a trembling, desperate tenderness I had never heard before. “Are you hurt? Find somewhere safe to hide.” He forgot to even hang up the phone. He dropped my wrist and sprinted out of the suite. The blade was yanked out of my flesh, sending another spike of blinding pain through my arm. I collapsed back onto the mattress, watching his silhouette disappear through the door. The comments went dead silent for a second before exploding: [He just left her?!] [Her wrist is still bleeding!] [He could have at least called an ambulance?!] [This is his idea of love? Being willing to casually slaughter someone else for the FL?] [How did I ever think he was devoted and romantic…] I struggled to lift my uninjured hand, reaching for my phone on the nightstand. My fingertips were shaking. It was only inches away, but it felt like miles. More and more blood poured from my wrist. The sheets were soaked, the deep crimson spreading endlessly across the white fabric. I gritted my teeth and threw my entire body weight forward by a single inch— My fingers finally brushed the edge of the phone. The comments turned into a cheering squad: [Come on! You got it!] [Dial 911! Hurry!] [Don’t fall asleep! Hang in there!] I unlocked the screen, but my vision was too blurry to make out the numbers. Relying entirely on muscle memory, I tapped 9-1-1 and hit dial. The dial tone rang through the speaker. Once. Twice. My breathing grew shallower, the black spots in my vision multiplying. Click. The call connected. “911, what is your emergency?” I opened my mouth to speak, but only a faint gasp escaped. “Hello? Can you hear me? Do you need police, fire, or medical?” I wanted to say: I’m at a hotel. I’m bleeding out. I’m dying. But it felt like something was blocking my throat. I couldn’t make a sound. “Hello? Is anyone there?” The voice from the speaker grew distant. The phone slipped from my fingers, hitting the plush carpet with a dull thud. The comments were frantic: [NO!!!] [Somebody save her!!!] [Where is the hotel staff?! How did no one hear a door getting kicked down?!] [Tristan, you absolute piece of shit!!!] My consciousness began to scatter. In a daze, I felt like I was floating. I looked down and saw myself curled up in a pool of blood, my face as pale as a sheet of paper. And then I saw the comments updating. [Tristan found Chloe.] [Chloe threw herself into his arms and cried.] [He’s comforting her, telling her ‘it’s going to be okay.’] [Chloe kissed him.] […They’re making out.] [While Harper is literally lying here bleeding to death.] The comments paused for a few seconds. Then the tone drastically shifted: [I suddenly feel… incredibly sick.] [What did the supporting girl even do wrong? She just fell in love with the wrong guy.] [She genuinely dedicated six years of her life to him.] [What gives Tristan the right to treat her like this?] [If she dies, he’s a literal murderer.] [I want to see him regret this.] [I want to see him drop to his knees and beg for her forgiveness.] [But she might not live to see it.] [Can someone please go to the hotel and save her? I can’t watch this anymore.] The countdown was still glowing, flickering weakly in my mind: 8 days, 9 hours, 01 minutes. The game wasn’t over. But it looked like the player was logging off early.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391239”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“You’re pregnant.” I was halfway through a sip of water when the words hit. I nearly choked, my throat seizing as I forced myself to swallow and maintain a mask of icy composure. The only reason I didn’t spit it out was because the doctor sitting across from me, looking clinical and professional in his white coat, was my ex-boyfriend. 1 “Ow, hey. Take it easy.” I was lying on an exam bed in the ER, letting a certain someone poke and prod at my abdomen with more clinical detachment than I found strictly necessary. “How long has the pain been localized in the lower right quadrant? From what I can see, it’s not appendicitis.” Silas West withdrew his hand—his long, elegant fingers that I once knew so well. He looked at me like I was a stranger off the street. If it weren’t for that familiar, infuriatingly arrogant edge in his voice, I wouldn’t have believed this was the man I’d shared a bed with for three years. “Since last night,” I muttered, turning my face away. It had only been a month since the breakup. Apparently, thirty days was all it took for some people to become completely unfazed. Cold-hearted prick. “Have you been sexually active recently?” “…” He knew damn well we hadn’t been. Suddenly, a nurse burst in with two ultrasound reports. They were clearly mine. Silas took the sheets, and I watched his handsome face go from clinical neutral to a shade of dark, thunderous brooding. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated, his voice dropping an octave. I nearly died right there on the crinkly exam paper. “Excuse me?” “A ten-week-old fetus,” he said, his eyes flashing with something that looked suspiciously like hurt masked by rage. Ten weeks ago, Silas and I were still very much together. But in the three years we’d dated, we had never actually… gone all the way. We’d been “intimate,” but there was always a line he didn’t cross, a ghost of someone else always lingering in the room. “Riley Miller,” he growled, “Did you cheat on me?” As a woman who was, quite frankly, still a member of the V-club, I knew this was a massive clerical error. But seeing him this worked up? It felt too good to pass up. I wanted to burn his composure to the ground. “Well, since you’ve figured it out, I guess there’s no point in lying,” I said, my voice dripping with fake nonchalance. I didn’t just stop at the verbal jab; I sat up and crossed my legs with an air of sophisticated mystery. “I was actually surprised to see you here, Silas. Did you drive all the way from Seattle to Boise just to attend my wedding? I haven’t sent out the invites yet.” Honestly, seeing Silas at Boise Memorial was a shock. He was the golden boy of the University of Washington’s surgical department. Why would he sabotage a brilliant career to move to a mid-sized city in Idaho? As for me, I was only here because after our explosive breakup a month ago, I’d packed my life into a U-Haul and fled back to my parents’ house. I couldn’t stand the sight of the Seattle skyline if he was under it. “Riley!” He stepped closer, his breathing heavy. “I’m right here. No need to yell. I left the house in a rush today, so I don’t have the save-the-date on me. I’ll be sure to mail you one, though. For old times’ sake.” I stood up, ready to make a grand exit. If I stayed another second, I was fairly certain Silas might actually bite me. The look in his eyes was feral. As I tried to brush past him, his foot “accidentally” caught mine. I tripped, and he pivoted instantly, blocking my path. I tumbled straight into his chest. To keep from eating the linoleum floor, my arms instinctively flew up and wrapped around his neck. The scent of his cologne—something crisp, like cedar and rain—hit me like a physical blow. Even through the layers of his shirt and white lab coat, I could feel the radiating heat of his body. “Already a ‘married woman,’ yet you’re still throwing yourself into my arms?” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. 2 Gaslighting. Incredible. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed, trying to untangle myself. “My fiancé owns several properties here in Boise. My future mother-in-law adores me. She’s already talking about helping with the baby so I can focus on my career. With a setup like that, I don’t need to throw myself at an ex.” “Riley, you really are something else.” A cold draft hit my back as the door swung open again. It was the same nurse from before, looking frantic. “I am so sorry! The charts got swapped at the desk. Dr. West, this is Ms. Miller’s report.” I should have run when I had the chance. The silence in the room was deafening. Silas took the new report, read it, and then a slow, terrifyingly beautiful smirk spread across his face. “Well,” he said, handing me the paper. “I can prescribe you some high-grade laxatives.” “What?” “You aren’t pregnant, Riley. Your ‘abdominal pain’ is just a severe case of being full of it. Literally. You’re constipated.” I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. I looked at the nurse, who was doing a heroic, if failing, job of not laughing. “Fix the filing system,” Silas said to the nurse, his voice tight with suppressed amusement. “We can’t have this happening twice.” Just as he was about to tuck the report away, the nurse spoke up again. “This other one—the pregnancy report—it belongs to a Ms. Blake. She’s waiting in the lounge.” My heart did a painful somersault. After the breakup, the name “Serena Blake” was a trigger. “Which Ms. Blake?” I asked, my voice suddenly small. “Serena?” The nurse nodded, surprised. I looked at Silas. So, that was it. Why would a top-tier surgeon move to a “flyover” city? Because his “White Moonlight”—the one who got away, the girl he’d never truly moved on from—lived here. He hadn’t come for me. He’d come for her. Then the second realization hit me like a freight train. “That’s Serena’s pregnancy report?” The nurse, blissfully unaware of the emotional carnage she was causing, nodded again. “Dr. West has been her primary since she arrived. The girls at the desk were gossiping… they said since Dr. West and Ms. Blake are old friends, maybe the baby is—” “That’s enough,” Silas snapped, cutting her off. The nurse scurried out, but the damage was done. Serena Blake was the reason Silas and I were over. She had spent the last six months of our relationship weaving herself back into his life, and now, here she was. Pregnant. 3 Two months ago. That was when she’d flown to Seattle to “reconnect” with him. “Riley, it’s not what it looks like—” Silas started. “We’re over, Silas.” “I can explain the timeline—” “I don’t care about your timeline. I’m not interested.” I turned on my heel and slammed his office door so hard the glass rattled in the frame. He was on my heels instantly. As we reached the hallway, the noise must have drawn attention. Serena emerged from the waiting area, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. We came face-to-face. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a glance. My only goal was to get out of this hospital and out of this town. I’d only taken a few steps when Serena let out a sharp gasp. She crumpled toward the floor, clutching her belly and whimpering in a way that screamed for attention. Silas, it hurts, her silence screamed. I saw him hesitate. Just for a second. That split-second of indecision was all I needed to know where I stood. He stayed. He went back to her. I walked out of the hospital doors alone, clutching my ultrasound report—the one that said I was just a girl with a stomach ache, not a woman with a future. Who was playing who? When I got home, my parents were staged in the living room like a firing squad. I knew that look. “Mom,” I said, closing the door quietly, trying to maintain the peace. Neither of them looked at me. They sat stiff-backed, faces set in grim lines. I decided to just sit down and take whatever lecture was coming. “Don’t you dare sit down!” my mother barked. “It’s my house too, Mom.” “You’re nearly thirty!” she shouted, ignoring me. “I set up three dates for you this week and you blew off every single one! Do you want to kill me? Even the neighbor’s golden retriever has a partner and two litters of puppies by now!” She shoved a stack of glossy papers into my hands. I looked down. In bold, horrific letters, it read: HUSBAND WANTED. My jaw dropped. “Mom, what is this? And why is my photo printed upside down?” It looked less like a dating profile and more like a ‘Missing Person’ flyer or a funeral notice. “I wanted to see if I could attract a man by making you look like a project,” she snapped. “I’ve already coordinated with my friend Mrs. Higgins. You’re going on a blind date with her son tomorrow. If you blow this one off, I’ll have your father post these flyers on every telephone pole from here to downtown. Do you understand?” My mom was a lost cause when she was in a “Matchmaker” frenzy. I turned to my dad, hoping for a shred of fatherly solidarity. “Dad, come on. I’m your little girl. Don’t you want me to stay home a few more years? Keep you company?” My dad stood up, took off his favorite cardigan, walked to the window, and threw it outside. “Go find a nice man to take care of you, Riley,” he said solemnly. 4 I caved. The thought of my “funeral-notice” dating flyer plastered all over Boise was too much to bear. I followed my mother’s instructions and took an Uber to a high-end French bistro downtown. It was actually quite nice—dim lighting, velvet booths, very romantic. My mom had already scurried off to “meet the guests” at the door. I was sitting at the table, scrolling through my phone, when I saw them. Mrs. Higgins, my mom… and Silas West. The world is a cruel, tiny place. The seating arrangement was a nightmare: Me, my mom, Silas, and his mother. Silas sat directly across from me, looking like the picture of a perfect gentleman. He smiled at my mother, a sweet, charming expression that made my skin crawl. “It’s so good to see you again, Mrs. Miller.” “Oh, Silas! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a handsome man,” my mom gushed. She was already mentally picking out her dress for the wedding. I stabbed at my salad, glaring at Silas with enough venom to kill a cobra. “I don’t know what happened with the last guy she was seeing,” my mom sighed, leaning toward Silas’s mom. “Three years down the drain. He must have been a real loser.” “Oh?” Silas leaned forward, his interest piqued. “What did she tell you about him?” A cold dread settled in my stomach. When I’d come home crying and angry, I hadn’t told my mom the truth about the cheating or Serena. I’d told her something much more… emasculating. Something that wouldn’t make her pity me, but would make her glad he was gone. “Well,” my mom whispered, not very quietly. “Riley said the poor boy had… performance issues. Medical ones. You know, ‘failure to launch.’ Extremely premature.” The sympathetic look Silas’s mother gave him was legendary. “Oh, bless his heart. It’s good she found out before marriage. That’s a lifetime of frustration.” “Exactly,” my mom agreed. I watched Silas’s face. His calm, “perfect gentleman” mask was beginning to twitch into something much darker. I buried my face in my wine glass, chugging the Chardonnay. I didn’t dare look up. I could feel his gaze burning holes into my forehead. Needing an escape, I mumbled something about the restroom and bolted. I was halfway to the lounge when a hand gripped my wrist and pulled me into the shadows of the hallway near the coat check. “You,” I gasped, backing up. Silas didn’t say a word. He just kept stepping forward until my back hit the wall. “Premature?” he whispered, loosening his tie with one hand. “Performance issues? You seem to have a lot of opinions on my anatomy, Riley.” The scent of cedar and rain enveloped me. He was so close I could feel the heat of his breath against my neck. It sent a traitorous shiver down my spine. “Riley,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration. “How can you claim I’m ‘inadequate’ when you never even let me try?” My heart was hammering against my ribs. He was the one who cheated! Why was I the one feeling guilty? Just then, I heard the clicking of heels. Our mothers were coming toward the restrooms. If they saw us like this, my mother would have the priest on speed dial before dessert. “Let go! They’re coming!” I hissed. I tried to push him away, but he grabbed both my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head, while his other hand cupped the back of my neck. He didn’t hesitate. Silas kissed me—a deep, possessive, “I’m-going-to-prove-you-wrong” kiss that tasted like red wine and years of suppressed longing. He broke into my senses with practiced ease. By the time I could think to pull away, the two “Best Friends” were standing five feet away, clutching their pearls and grinning like they’d won the lottery. Game over. 5 “I’d love to get Riley’s new number,” Silas said with a boyish grin. My mother didn’t even wait for me to agree; she grabbed my phone, unlocked it, and pulled up my QR code. So much for blocking him. But Silas wasn’t done. He was a shark in a tailored suit. “The only problem is,” Silas sighed, looking at my mom with puppy-dog eyes, “I’m staying in my mom’s guest suite, but it’s actually just a studio. I’ve been sleeping on a loveseat for a week. My back is killing me.” His mother nudged him, looking confused, but my mom took the bait hook, line, and sinker. “Well, stay with us! We have plenty of room, and I haven’t seen your mother in ages. You can both move into the guest wing for a few days!” And just like that, the next morning, Silas arrived with three suitcases, looking like he planned to move in permanently. I had never met a more shameless human being. Over brunch, I learned the backstory I’d forgotten. Silas’s mom was a Boise native who had moved to Seattle after a messy divorce when Silas was six. Apparently, our families had been close back then. I’d met him when I was three, but I had zero memory of the scrawny boy who had apparently decided way back then that I was his. While my mom was busy fawning over him, Silas’s phone buzzed on the table. The notification read: Serena. I pretended to be intensely interested in my toast, but I was watching him like a hawk. Thanks for taking care of me. Dinner tonight? the message read. That little snake. Silas was literally in my house, and she was already trying to lure him away. Suddenly, a competitive fire ignited in my chest. I wasn’t going to let her win. Not this time. I pulled up a local app and booked tickets for the most intense, multi-hour experience I could find. “I actually booked us something for tomorrow,” I said, interrupting their conversation. “An escape room followed by a three-hour movie marathon. Silas, I hope you’re free?” Silas looked surprised, then his lips curled into a smirk. He checked his phone, saw Serena’s message, and typed back a single word: Busy.

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Caspian faked amnesia just to break up with me. “Who are you?” he asked. I paused for a breath, then smiled. “I’m your brother’s fiancée.” Caspian froze. Later that night, Pierce, his older brother—the one who had been urging us to split—sent me a frantic series of texts: [YOU EVIL BITCH! When did you and I get together?] [Caspian is standing outside my apartment with a goddamn machete!] 1 When I arrived at the hospital, Caspian “Cas” Miller was lying in bed, a perfectly respectable, if slightly dramatic, gauze bandage wrapped around his head. He looked up at me with a confused, lost expression and asked: “Who are you?” I let the question hang for a moment, then laughed softly. I reached up and subtly pulled the collar of my silk blouse lower, exposing a faint, reddish mark on my neck. “I’m your brother’s fiancée.” The door was closed. Pierce, Cas’s elder brother, was standing just outside, waiting for me to deliver the final, clean breakup speech. I’d been with Pierce when the news of Cas’s minor car accident and subsequent hospitalization came in. Pierce had leaned back in his leather chair, a cynical smile playing on his lips, and flashed a certified check for five million dollars at me. “Sasha,” he’d said, his voice smooth and cold. “The future with Caspian is unpredictable. Yours, however, can clear a path to the top right now.” Cas and I had been together for two years, and in all that time, he’d been stubbornly silent about the Miller family’s staggering wealth. It wasn’t until I picked up a shift at a high-end resort that I ran into him. He was out with friends, checking out of a presidential suite that cost more than my annual rent. I stood silently at the reception desk, watching him. I wasn’t bitter. I wasn’t even tired. Cas looked up, and we locked eyes. He flushed bright red, mortified. “I… I didn’t tell you before because I was afraid you’d feel too much pressure being with me.” I stared at him, pointing a disbelieving finger at myself. Me? Did I look like someone with that much pride? Kid, if you’d mentioned the generational wealth sooner, you wouldn’t have had to chase me for over a year. Our relationship had been a private affair. But after that run-in with his friends, the news inevitably reached the ears of the Miller patriarch—his older brother, Pierce Miller. I met Pierce shortly after. The brothers shared seven-tenths of a face, but Pierce’s expression, when he looked down at me, carried a stifling, heavy aura that made me instinctively tremble. Pierce wanted me to break up with Cas. The previous night, he’d sent me a recording. In the video, he and Cas sat across from each other. Next to the visibly raw and youthful Cas, Pierce looked impossibly polished and mature. Pierce’s voice, slow and deliberate, sounded like a hammer tapping on a delicate glass heart. “You met Sasha in college, right? You chased her for ages. She was always volatile, a real piece of work. But the moment she found out who you were, she suddenly became sweetness and light.” His implication was crystal clear: I was a gold-digger, a phony, someone who groveled for cash. “She’s not like that!” Cas shot back immediately. His voice was unsteady, lacking any conviction. He was only desperate to defend me, but his words were hollow; he didn’t even believe them himself. Compared to an old fox like Pierce, Cas was a lightweight. Pierce simply smiled, seeing his trap set. “Is that so? Then let’s run a small test. You fake a car accident, pretend you have amnesia. You treat her like a stranger, cold and indifferent. Then we’ll see what her true reaction is.” The video ended there. This scene in the hospital confirmed everything. Cas had chosen to play along. 2 The expression on Cas’s face cycled through disbelief, horror, and confusion, like a computer trying to process an overload error. “Want an apple? Your fiancée will peel one for you.” Five million dollars was certainly tempting. But being used as a pawn in their sibling drama? That was a bridge too far. Hearing the word “fiancée” drove Cas’s face green with rage. He opened his mouth, ready to demand answers, but stopped himself at the last second. He still had to maintain the amnesia act. Breaking character now would be shooting himself in the foot. He tried to look composed, yet his eyes betrayed him, welling up with tears. His voice was thick with suppressed emotion. “My… my brother is single, I think.” I waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve lost your memory, sweetheart. It’s normal not to recall your brother’s relationship status.” Cas pressed his fingers hard against his temples, anxiously saying, “I think I’m starting to remember something.” I pulled his official, printed medical chart from the bedside table and forced him to look at the paperwork. “The doctor said there’s no risk of memory recovery, Cas. Just focus on healing.” Cas gripped the paper, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. I placed the perfectly peeled apple on his tray. As I prepared to leave, I ruffled his hair affectionately. “If a memory can be forgotten, it probably wasn’t all that important to begin with. Time to move on.” “I’m going out now—with your brother. We have dinner reservations. No, wait, scratch that. We’re going to a romantic, intimate restaurant. You rest up. We’ll drop by when we’re done.” I gave him a cheerful wave and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, the hospital room erupted in a sound like a boiling kettle coming to a tragic shriek. Pierce, standing outside, was oblivious to the conversation. He turned to me, his eyes softening slightly, a look of quiet satisfaction for my perceived compliance. On the way to the hospital, Pierce had been relentless in guiding me. “The fact that Caspian agreed to this charade proves he already doesn’t trust you. A crack in a relationship doesn’t mend; it only widens. Trying to win him back is pointless.” “Better to take the five million now and disappear gracefully than to have a messy, hysterical breakup later.” Pierce always knew exactly where to twist the knife. I handed him my debit card. “I don’t want to mess with a physical check. Have your people wire the money to this card.” Pierce nodded, handing the check and my card to his assistant to process. By the time I stepped out of the room, the assistant was done. A deposit alert had popped up on my phone a few minutes prior. As Pierce handed my card back to me, he was completely unaware of the furious face pressed against the small glass panel on the door behind him. Cas, staring through the glass, fixed his gaze on the card in Pierce’s hand. From his angle, he couldn’t see the design. Given my earlier words, he immediately assumed it was a hotel room key card. Cas’s face was dark, his forehead throbbing with visible veins. I took the card from Pierce, allowing my fingers to linger seductively over his hand. “Thank you,” I purred. I slipped the card into my bag and turned to leave. Pierce looked down at the spot where I had touched him, his fingers unconsciously flexing once. The moment I rounded the corner, Cas exploded out of the room. The supposedly gravely injured man attacked Pierce like a rabid dog, tackling him and beating him on the floor. “Pierce Miller, you sick bastard! You stole my fiancée!” Pierce: “Wait, what?” 3 The hospital corridor descended into chaos. Pierce was knocked out cold with a single, furious punch. Cas sat nearby, sobbing uncontrollably. I watched the dramatic scene unfold from a sheltered alcove for a long time before reluctantly walking away. I spent the rest of the day on a five-million-dollar shopping spree, returning home only after dark. As I stepped out of the elevator, I saw Pierce standing at my door like a vengeful ghost. He was covered in bruises and resentment. Gone was the cool, self-possessed corporate shark. “Sasha Holloway! You need to go back and explain things to Cas right now!” I opened the door to my apartment and innocently asked, “Explain what?” Pierce’s brows furrowed. His expression was pure disgust. “You know damn well! Stop playing dumb with me! Caspian thinks I stole you! He thinks I made him fake amnesia so you could ditch him and walk into my life! He’s armed and blocking my driveway like a maniac!” I hummed a tune and ignored his tirade. I dumped my afternoon purchases onto the bed, covering the duvet with piles of expensive, barely-there clothes. I held up a sheer, white lace negligee against myself for inspection. “Would this look good on me?” I asked Pierce. His face turned an even deeper shade of green. He turned away, refusing to look at me, his teeth practically grinding. “Only a blind idiot like Caspian would find you attractive. I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life than be with a toxic, malicious woman like you.” The moment the words left his mouth, a knock sounded at the door. “Sasha, are you home?” It was Cas. Pierce’s composure shattered. He stared at the door, panicked, and made to rush toward me. “Don’t open it!” he hissed. Cas already thought we were having an affair. If he found Pierce in my apartment late at night, especially after all the hospital drama, no explanation would save him. I rolled my eyes. “He called out my name, which means he knows I’m in here. If I don’t open the door, it’ll look even worse.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the bedroom closet. “Why don’t you hide in here for a while?” Pierce looked utterly defeated. But after a moment of desperate thought, he realized he had no choice. He took a deep, resigning breath and reluctantly squeezed himself into the walk-in closet. I turned and opened the door for Cas. Cas, tall and large, stood slumped outside. His head was down, and the corners of his eyes were still slightly red. I reached out and lightly stroked his cheek. “What’s this? Were you crying?” The tears Cas had been fighting finally broke through. Hot, wet tears soaked into my hand. His sense of injury and injustice was like a floodgate opening. He was the one who agreed to fake the amnesia. He was the one who pretended not to know me this morning. Now, no matter how much injustice he felt, he had to swallow it. “My brother… he won’t let me back in the house. He kicked me out. I have nowhere to go.” Pierce, crammed in the closet after being hunted all afternoon, likely had a stroke. Cas grabbed my hand and buried his face in my palm, rubbing against me like a lost puppy. “Fiancée, can you let me crash here for the night? The sofa is fine. I promise I won’t be any trouble.” I nodded sympathetically. “Of course, sweetheart.” Pierce: “?!” Cas stepped inside, swapping his shoes, and immediately his eyes fell on the array of expensive, revealing lingerie scattered on the bed. His expression twisted into something momentarily feral. I followed his gaze, then offered a shy, suggestive smile. “Your brother bought them. Said he wanted to ‘celebrate’ tonight…” I stopped my sentence abruptly, as if realizing I’d said too much. I lowered my voice to a suggestive whisper. “Your brother is always buying these useless, racy things. He never listens.” Inside the closet, Pierce was silently staring at the ceiling, likely attempting to hang himself with a coat hanger. I quickly scooped up the pile of clothes, opened the closet door, and tossed them inside. The sheer white negligee landed squarely on Pierce’s face. Pierce was already mentally dead the moment I opened the door. He pressed his palms together, a picture of helpless, silent begging. Cas stood right by the closet door, separated from Pierce by a thin sheet of wood, and spoke to me. “Will my brother be coming back tonight?” I shook my head. “I have no idea. Why don’t you call him and ask?” Pierce’s eyes widened in terror. Cas took out his phone and dialed Pierce’s number. The next second, Pierce’s ringtone—a custom, jarring corporate chime—blared inside the closet. Cas’s eyes narrowed dangerously, fixed on the wardrobe. “Fiancée, I think my brother’s phone is ringing.”

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When I was twenty, I surrendered myself to my worst enemy, trading my body to beg him for mercy, just so he would spare my mother. But my mother still died. She died in a horrific multi-car pileup. When they pulled her from the wreckage, half her head was gone. Dragging my exhausted, aching body, I stormed into his corporate boardroom and screamed hysterically: “Arthur! I gave you everything you wanted! Why did you still have her killed?!” The only response I got was a vicious, stinging slap across the face. Arthur Vance didn’t even look up at me. His voice was ice cold. “When my mother jumped off that balcony right in front of me, I wanted to ask why, too.” “I wanted to ask why your mother, Evelyn, was such a cheap whore that she had to seduce my father. Why she had to drive my mother to her death.” “Chloe, the karma is just beginning. You’re crying way too early.” Using the 99 intimate photos he took of me that night, he blackmailed me into marrying him. Then, he publicly, extravagantly dropped millions courting his childhood sweetheart, a wealthy heiress, shocking the entire city. He forced me to hand-fold 999 origami roses for her, until my fingers were sliced open and dripping blood. He forced me to deliver condoms to them in the middle of a torrential downpour, leaving me with pneumonia that landed me in the hospital. Arthur’s goal was simple: he wanted me to watch him fall in love with and pamper someone else, until I wished I was dead. What he didn’t know was that after six years of mutual torture, I really was dying. And by now, there were only three photos left to delete. … After my final round of chemotherapy failed and I spent seven days in a coma, I never expected to find Arthur waiting outside my cheap apartment. He shoved me violently against the door, absolutely furious. “Chloe, when Audrey asked you for those things, why didn’t you give them to her?!” “Don’t think for a second I won’t actually leak those photos!” The photos. Those sickening, degrading photos that never should have been taken. If he leaked them, I would truly be ruined. A familiar wave of panic finally pierced through my chemo-addled brain, giving me a moment of clarity. I struggled to lift my head. “I’ll give them to her. What exactly does she want?” I vaguely remembered that before I went in for chemo, Arthur had sent me a barrage of voice memos. But back then, my entire soul was consumed by praying to survive, so I hadn’t bothered to listen to a word he said. Opening the chat log now, there were hundreds of unread voice messages. In the short audio clips, Audrey was throwing a tantrum, and Arthur was coaxing her. “Arthur, why did you write her love letters, make her a snow globe, and give her all this stuff?” “I don’t care, they’re mine! Make her give them to me!” So Audrey wanted our matching couple items. …The gloves, the mugs, the engraved pens. Back when Arthur loved me the most, he insisted on buying everything in matching pink and blue sets. Those items, and the memories attached to them, felt so distant it was like they belonged to a past century. My eyes involuntarily began to sting, but Arthur pinched my chin, forcing me to look at him. His expression was full of mockery: “What, Chloe? Can’t bear to part with them?” The last time I refused to give my mother’s jade bracelet to Audrey, Arthur had my mother’s grave dug up. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, I wouldn’t have even been able to save her urn. I shook my head frantically. “No, no! I’ll get them for you right now.” With that, I leaned heavily against the doorframe, struggling to unlock the door, and forced my exhausted body inside. The voice memos were still playing. “The things Audrey asked for—bring them to my office by 6:00 AM tomorrow.” “Where the hell are you?” “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve ignoring my messages for days. Get out here right now!” … “Audrey and I are getting engaged tomorrow. If you don’t show up, you know the consequences.” Engaged? My heart skipped a beat. The snow globe in my hand slipped and crashed onto the floor. It rolled right to Arthur’s feet. He bent down, picked it up, and studied my pale face. “What? I’ve been with Audrey for six years, am I not allowed to get engaged?” “Or did you actually think I married you because I still had feelings for you? Pathetic.” Arthur turned the snow globe over. Seeing the childishly carved “Arthur & Chloe” on the bottom, he let out a cold sneer. “You don’t deserve this.” He grabbed a box cutter from the desk and viciously gouged the names out. As the plastic shavings hit me, I bit my lip, tasting bitterness. Of course I didn’t deserve it. It was common knowledge that Arthur hated me and didn’t love me. No one knew about our six-year marriage. To everyone else, I was just a delusional gold-digger trying to latch onto someone out of my league. They didn’t know I had wanted to end things peacefully and leave a long time ago. During the most painful times, I had even threatened to kill myself. But Arthur had printed out all 99 intimate photos and threw them in my face: “Go ahead and die, Chloe. If you do, I’ll release every single one of these.” “I’ll let the whole world know that the older whore gave birth to a younger whore. She seduced the father, and you seduced the son.” “I’ll let everyone see what a cheap slut you are. I’ll make your mother the most despised sinner on the planet!” I had no choice. No matter how wrong my mother was, I wanted her to rest in peace. And I didn’t want to become the subject of vulgar gossip. So, for six long years, I lived by his rules: one act of torture, one apology, one deleted photo. Now, there were only three photos left. Arthur was about to marry the woman he loved. It was finally going to be over. Thinking of this, I wearily packed the things I had gathered into a bag and offered a forced, eager smile. “What else do you need me to do to delete the last three photos?” Arthur stared at me. Then he turned his head and saw my mother’s portrait hanging on the wall. His face instantly darkened. A bad feeling washed over me. I twisted my body to run. But he grabbed my ankle and threw me onto the couch. I struggled in panic. “Arthur, are you crazy?! My mother is right there!” Arthur was brutal, devoid of any emotion except pure contempt: “The daughter of a whore who climbed into her best friend’s husband’s bed thinks she deserves dignity?” I stopped struggling. In an instant, my mind flashed back to the day Arthur confessed his love to me when we were eighteen. I was so happy. But when I pushed open my front door, I saw my mother and his father rolling around in bed. And out on the balcony, Arthur’s mother, her face deathly pale, turned around and jumped off. Arthur screamed like a madman—a sound of absolute despair and hatred. Just like now. He gripped my waist tightly, looking like he wanted to break me into pieces. I pulled a throw pillow over my face, blocking out my vision. “Arthur. We can do this. Two photos.” Arthur went at it the entire night. When I refused to look, he forced me to face the wall. I desperately tilted my head back, watching the ceiling light sway back and forth. The smoke from the incense hastily placed in front of the dirt-covered urn obscured my mother’s portrait. But for some reason, I felt like she was smiling a very bitter smile. A long time ago, I asked her: why Arthur’s mother? If Arthur’s mother hadn’t kindly taken us in when we were homeless, we would have frozen to death on the streets that winter night. My mother cried and told me that Arthur’s mother was dying of an illness. She was terrified we would be kicked out and homeless again. She said she had no other choice. But after Arthur’s mother jumped, his father died of a sudden heart attack. Rival families swooped in, seized the Vance Corporation, broke Arthur’s leg, forced him to crawl between their legs, and called him trash. My mother finally realized she was wrong. So, this selfish, self-serving woman worked three jobs, sold her blood, and even sold a kidney to put Arthur through college. I dropped out of school and took his place at business dinners, drinking myself sick and forcing smiles to win clients. But Arthur would just punch his leg—the one that ached whenever it rained—his eyes bloodshot: “I had a perfect family, and you two destroyed it.” “You think acting like good people for a few years wipes the slate clean? Keep dreaming!” After he reclaimed the Vance Corporation, he systematically hunted down and destroyed everyone who had ever humiliated him. I had no choice. To let him vent his rage, I let him degrade me in bed. But my mother still died. I spent every penny I had investigating her death, only to find out it really was just an accident. It took away my only justification to hate Arthur. But loving him was just too exhausting. When it was finally over, the sky was already growing light. My entire body ached and I was freezing. I curled up tightly on the couch and drifted off, dreaming again of the snowy night he and his mother came to pick us up. He gently cupped my face and told me not to cry. His hands were so warm, too warm to be a dream. I opened my eyes. The warmth on my face instantly vanished, leaving only the cold tracks of undried tears. Arthur stood in front of me, his body hidden in the shadows. I froze for a second, then grabbed his sleeve, my voice hoarse: “Two photos. Delete them.” He ignored me, turning his back with a cold expression to leave. I panicked, but my body gave out. I pitched forward and smashed my head hard against the floor. Blood gushed out. I wiped at it frantically, my voice growing desperate: “Arthur! Delete them! Did you hear me?!” As my consciousness began to blur, his icy voice drifted in and out: “Chloe, you’re really going to defend that whore of a mother to the end?” “Fine. Come work as a server at my engagement party. I’ll give you what you want and delete them all.” The first word that floated into my mind was cruel. Today was technically our ten-year anniversary. But my body couldn’t wait any longer. “Okay.” As soon as I arrived at the banquet hall, Arthur’s secretary tossed me a server’s uniform. When I hurried out after changing, Arthur was still there. He stared at my face, his gaze strange. The fall earlier had left a massive, dark bruise across the center of my face. I had to pack on powder to cover it up, but the gray over the sickly pale skin just made me look terrifying. I tried to add blush, but it just made my face look like a grotesque mix of white and red—more suited for a funeral than a party. I didn’t know what to do, so I just forced a smile. He threw a slice of cake at me and sneered, “You look like a ghost with that makeup. Eat this quickly, don’t pretend to faint and gross people out later.” The cloying, sweet smell hit my nose. My instinct was to throw up, but Arthur just stood there watching me. I forced it down with a deep frown. Only then did he leave with a dark expression. I struggled to carry trays around the banquet hall. My stomach was churning violently. My steps felt light and floaty. I had to set the tray down and rush toward the restroom. But someone suddenly blocked my path. “Chloe, I thought you were so capable.” It was Audrey. She swirled her champagne and leaned close to my ear: “Arthur still loves me more. I hired someone to break his leg, and he still wants to marry me.” “You treat him so well, yet he wishes you were dead.” My entire body went rigid. I used to think Arthur would hate Audrey too. After all, when the Vance family fell, the Audrey’s family were the ones who humiliated him the most. But instead, Arthur held her in the palm of his hand and spoiled her endlessly. I was bitter about it, but he told me it was because Audrey was smart. At the final, critical moment of his corporate takeover, Audrey betrayed her own father and begged Arthur for peace. And I wasn’t smart. Stomach acid surged up my throat repeatedly. I didn’t have the energy to deal with Audrey. I struggled to speak. “Excuse me. Move.” Audrey provocatively swished her dress. “Don’t leave yet. Take a good look at my dress.” I couldn’t control it anymore. I vomited violently. Most of what came up splattered directly onto her pristine white dress. Oh god. I frantically tried to wipe it off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” But my vision was blurred. I missed my mark and accidentally yanked the tablecloth, sending everything crashing to the floor in a chaotic mess. A large hand suddenly grabbed my collar and yanked me backward. “Chloe, did you forget what I warned you about?” I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t stop dry heaving. Arthur stared at me with pure, unadulterated darkness in his eyes. I looked back. Audrey stood frozen behind me, looking furious. I couldn’t help but glance at her dress again. I recognized it. It was the design Arthur had drawn for me when he was 18. Back then, I told him I wanted to embroider a snowflake on the lapel of his suit. Arthur had one on his suit right now. Only now, the snowflake on her dress was covered in my vomit, looking filthy. I reached out with a trembling hand to wipe it, but he shoved me away violently. “Playing the victim won’t work on me. This is your own stubborn fault.” “Pick it all up with your bare hands!” I crashed to the floor. My hands were sliced open by the sharp, broken glass. Arthur put his arm around the crying Audrey and strode away. The other guests all walked away in disgust. I vaguely heard someone say they were moving to a different hall, leaving only a few guards to watch me clean. If I moved too slowly, they would kick me. The Wedding March played from somewhere far away. Or maybe it was close. I was in a daze. I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly someone was standing in front of me, using the tip of their shoe to tilt my forehead up. “Chloe, do you regret it now?” I opened my eyes blankly. Regret what? Regret not cutting ties with my mother? But Arthur, that woman you hate so much… she gave birth to me, she raised me. She saved me from a man who beat and molested me. Even when we were at a dead end, she gave me the last half of her steamed bun. What do you want me to do? What could I have done? I didn’t answer. I just felt incredibly tired. The surrounding area got noisy again, but Audrey’s voice pierced through: “Really? Arthur, the land you bought me in the slum district has already started demolition?” When I stumbled out of the apartment in a daze this morning, I thought I saw a red “Demolish” spray-painted on the wall downstairs. I jolted completely awake. “What land?” “Arthur! Which block in the slums?!” By the time I rushed back, half the neighborhood had already been reduced to rubble by the excavators. My mother’s ashes were still inside the apartment. The machines roared. I charged forward like a lunatic, grabbing someone’s walkie-talkie. I was violently thrown to the ground. Blood and tears mixed on my face as I gritted my teeth and forced myself back up. “Stop the demolition! Stop! I live here! I haven’t moved out yet!” A pair of dress shoes suddenly appeared in front of me. I looked up blankly. It was Arthur, who was supposed to be at his engagement party. He looked down at me with cold indifference. I frantically grabbed his pant leg, begging: “Arthur, you know my mother’s ashes are still in there.” “I’m begging you, just stop it for ten minutes. Let me go in and grab it, please?” But the heavy, unreadable darkness in his eyes sobered me up completely. I froze, tears pooling in my eyes. “…Arthur, you did this on purpose?” A demolition project this massive… the only reason the landlord wouldn’t notify me was if Arthur ordered him not to. I was in a coma in the hospital for seven days. The exact day I woke up, he ordered me away so I wouldn’t be home. He did all of this just to completely obliterate the very last trace of my mother’s existence in this world. My voice was hoarse. “…Why? Why are you doing this?”

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1 The vows were on our lips when the doors to the chapel burst open. My groom, Lucian Vance, head of a weapons empire, was about to become a husband. And, it seemed, a father. He stiffened, then immediately released my hands and grabbed his jacket, ready to bolt. “Arabella, she’s in trouble. I have to go,” he said, his voice urgent, his eyes devoid of a single shred of guilt for the woman he was about to leave at the altar. A hush fell over the cathedral. Every guest, every powerful figure from the city’s underworld, turned to stare. “Lucian, I don’t give a damn who Isla is,” I said, my voice ringing out, clear and cold. “But this isn’t just our wedding. It’s an alliance between the Vance and Stanton families. Are you willing to burn that bridge—to break that treaty—for a mistress?” Lucian froze, clearly stunned that I would challenge him so publicly. The whispers from the pews grew louder. “That poor Stanton girl. Finding out on her wedding day he has another woman…” “I heard she’s some nightclub dancer. And pregnant with his child…” In another life, I threw a fit. I threatened to kill myself to stop him from leaving, forcing him to complete the ceremony. But Isla died in childbirth, along with their son. He never even got to say goodbye. For that, he hated me. He locked me away in a gilded cage, a sunless villa where I became his prisoner. And when it was my turn to give birth, he smiled and told the doctors to remove a bullet from one of his men first, leaving me to bleed out on a cold operating table. This life, I would make sure everyone knew that the Vances had betrayed me first. This life, Lucian Vance would pay for his choice. “Mr. Vance, it’s an emergency! Miss Isla is in labor, and the doctors say it’s a difficult birth! They said you have to come now!” A young woman with a perfectly made-up face burst into the ceremony, interrupting us. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Mr. Vance, please, you have to save Miss Isla! She’s carrying your child!” My grip on my bouquet tightened. Across from me, Lucian’s face had gone pale with shock. “What did you say? A difficult birth? How?” He was about to abandon the entire wedding, all our guests, and run. In my last life, this was the moment I stopped him, forcing him to finish the wedding and sealing his eternal hatred for me. This time, I wouldn’t stand in his way. I ripped the veil from my head. “Lucian, who is Isla? And why is she saying she’s pregnant with your child?” I let my voice tremble, my face a mask of shock and devastation. The guests immediately turned their sympathetic gazes upon me. The whispers started again. “Poor Arabella. Her wedding isn’t even over, and her husband’s mistress is giving birth.” “This is a major union between two families. The Vances are showing zero respect for the Stantons.” Lucian shot me an impatient look. “Arabella, it’s my child. I can’t let her die. I’ll explain later.” He turned to leave again. “Wait.” I stepped in front of him. “Today is our wedding day. You’re going to leave me at the altar for another woman, in front of all these people? What does that say about the Stanton family’s honor?” “If you already had someone you loved, why didn’t you say so? Why did you wait until our wedding day to humiliate me?” “A Stanton woman does not have to beg to be married into the Vance family.” Lucian shoved my hand away. “I’m not refusing to marry you, but this is a matter of life and death! I can’t just ignore it!” My eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a perfect path down my cheek. “But this alliance was set in stone by our families. The invitations have been sent, the contracts signed. If you walk out that door right now, this union is void. You can explain that to our parents tomorrow.” My tears began to fall like broken pearls. This time, I had learned how to play the victim. I would make sure the entire world knew that Lucian Vance, and the entire Vance family, had wronged me. Lucian’s parents, their faces burning with shame from the surrounding gossip, finally stepped in. “Lucian, stop this nonsense! Today is your wedding day with Arabella. You can’t just walk out!” “Get back here and finish the ceremony!” his father commanded. The young assistant fell to her knees again. “Sir, Madam, Miss Isla is carrying the Vance family’s first grandson! Can you really be so heartless?” “Mr. Vance, she followed you without a title or a name, willing to bear your children. Are you really going to let her die?” Lucian echoed her plea. “Father, Mother, that’s your grandson. Can you truly stand by and do nothing?” He then turned his cold eyes back to me. “Since this is a family alliance, the marriage is inevitable. Why the rush? Or is the precious Stanton daughter that desperate to marry into the Vance family? It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” His tone softened slightly. “Arabella, I know you’re a reasonable woman. Once you’re Mrs. Vance, I’m sure you and Isla can learn to get along, can’t you?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Lucian, you and I are not yet married. This ceremony is not complete. I have no intention of playing sisters with your mistress.” I threw my bouquet to the ground. “If you insist on saving her, I won’t stop you. But the alliance between our families cannot be jeopardized by your personal affairs.” “Can the Vance family afford the price of breaking our contract?” Lucian’s father’s face was a mask of fury. “Lucian, this deal is worth billions! Are you going to risk our entire family for some woman?” Lucian was dismissive. “Father, I already agreed to the alliance, didn’t I? What does it matter when the wedding happens? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” He completely ignored the gravity of the situation. “What’s next? Are you going to try and schedule when we sleep together too?” Seeing that he had finally pushed his father too far, I smiled faintly and took a step forward, addressing Lucian’s parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance,” I said, my voice clear and deliberate. “As this is an alliance between our two families, the contract doesn’t specify which Vance son I am to marry.” “Since Lucian already has a woman he loves, I will not stand in his way. Our engagement is hereby terminated. The man I will marry today is the Vance family’s second son, Adrian.” The entire cathedral erupted. Lucian burst out laughing. “What did you say? You want to marry my brother? He’s nothing but a brute who only knows how to fight! I am the future head of the Vance family! Have you lost your mind?” I looked him straight in the eye. “So what? You may be the heir, but you cheated during our engagement and fathered a child with another woman. Why would I marry a man with no loyalty? Adrian may not work at the headquarters, but he is capable and honorable. He is a thousand times the man you are.” I gave him a mocking look. “Or are you having second thoughts? Do you want to marry me now? Oh, dear. I wonder how Isla is doing. She must be in so much pain…” At the mention of Isla, the assistant tugged frantically on Lucian’s arm. “Mr. Vance, we can’t wait any longer! Miss Isla is fading!” Lucian glared at me with contempt. “Fine. If you’d rather marry my brother than be my wife, I’ll grant you your wish. After my son is born, I’ll marry his mother. Arabella Stanton, you will regret this.” With that, he ripped off his tuxedo jacket, threw it to the ground, and stormed out in front of everyone. I turned to my assistant. “Contact my father and mother. Tell them to bring the marriage contract they signed with Lucian.” My parents arrived within minutes. My father’s face was thunderous. “A fine welcome from the Vances! Did you think the Stantons were a family to be trifled with? For Lucian to cause such a scene on his wedding day for a common mistress… don’t blame us for turning hostile.” I stopped him. “Father, Lucian and I have made things clear. I will not marry him. But the alliance is for our families’ mutual benefit. It never stipulated which son I had to marry. Now that Lucian has proven his disloyalty, I refuse to marry him. But he isn’t the only son. There is still Adrian.” My mother whispered, “Arabella, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself. Even if we break the alliance, it would be the Vances’ fault.” I smiled softly. Breaking a family alliance of this magnitude wasn’t easy. But switching the groom? That was much simpler. The underworld didn’t need to know whether I married the first or second son of the Vance family. They only needed to know our families were united. That was enough to keep our enemies at bay. Besides, in my last life, when Lucian drove me to my death for Isla, it was Adrian who stood up at my funeral and condemned his brother’s treachery, exposing Lucian for the monster he truly was. My father considered for a moment, then nodded in agreement and turned to Lucian’s father. “Mr. Vance, your thoughts?” Mr. and Mrs. Vance nodded eagerly. “This is an excellent solution. We are so sorry for what Arabella has had to endure. We must call for Adrian immediately.” My father held up a hand, stopping them. “My daughter has certainly been wronged. Lucian’s deplorable behavior and public breach of contract is an insult to both our families. He fathered a child with another woman during his engagement to my daughter and chose to reveal it on their wedding day.” “If the Vance family does not make a significant gesture, the Stanton family elders will assume this behavior was condoned.” Lucian’s father was stunned. “What do you propose?” I spoke up. “Since you feel I have been wronged, and I have chosen not to escalate this scandal for the sake of both our families, the best solution is for you to convene a family council. Revoke Lucian’s position as heir, and name Adrian the new head of the Vance syndicate.” “After all, Lucian has proven himself to be a reckless liability. Adrian, on the other hand, is exceptionally capable and has earned the respect of everyone. Don’t you think he is better suited to lead?” Defeated, Lucian’s father finally nodded. “Very well. As you say. I will call a family meeting tomorrow and propose the change of heir.” “The second son has arrived.” Adrian was standing at the back of the crowd. I didn’t know how long he’d been there. He walked up the aisle. His father clapped him on the shoulder. “The family is in your hands now. Since your brother has no regard for our interests, let him have his freedom. The position of heir to the Vance family is no longer his.” Adrian looked at me, his gaze deep and steady. “Miss Stanton, I am a practical man. I don’t have time for poetry or romance. I may not be able to take you shopping or for tea. But I swear on my name, if you will have me, I will protect you for the rest of my life. Will you?” I smiled. “I will.” To the sound of the wedding march, I put my veil back on, and Adrian and I exchanged rings, becoming husband and wife. As the chandeliers sparkled above us, a wave of relief washed over me. This time, I was finally free of Lucian Vance. And I had taken his birthright. I couldn’t wait to see if he would regret losing everything for Isla. The story of how Lucian Vance abandoned his bride at the altar for his mistress spread through our world overnight. The next day, as Adrian and I were preparing for the formal tea ceremony with the elders, Lucian’s father sent men to bring him back to the estate. He didn’t come alone. He brought Isla, who was holding a newborn baby. She was dressed in a designer coat and dripping with jewels, clinging to Lucian’s arm as if she were a fragile doll. She bowed demurely with the baby in her arms. “Father, Mother, my name is Isla. Orion, say hello to your grandpa and grandma.” She cooed at the baby, a smug look on her face. Lucian’s parents were livid. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you bring her here today!” Lucian declared, “Father, Mother, Isla risked her life to give me Orion. He is our family’s first grandson!” “Isla and I are in love. I have decided to marry her and make her an honorable Mrs. Vance.” Isla gazed at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “Lucian, having you is all I need in this life. My son and I want for nothing. Please don’t argue with your parents.” Lucian pulled her closer. “You gave me a son. You are a hero to this family. My mind is made up. You will be my wife.” He saw me then, dressed in a traditional red gown for the ceremony, and his tone softened. “I know I wronged you yesterday, leaving you to face our guests alone. I’m surprised you were so understanding. I will make it up to you.” “What I said about canceling our engagement was just in the heat of the moment. I’ll treat you well from now on.” “But Isla gave me a son, so I must marry her. You can live here with us. She has a gentle nature and isn’t suited to manage a household. You can be in charge. It will be a sign of respect. You and Isla must get along.” I frowned, listening to his nonsense, about to speak, but someone else spoke for me. “Brother, what are you saying to my wife? Arabella, it’s time to serve the elders.” Adrian stepped out from behind me, his arm gently guiding me forward. Lucian was dumbfounded. “What wife? What are you talking about? The one who married Arabella was me, not you!” Adrian smiled, holding my hand tightly. “No. You didn’t finish the ceremony, remember? You ran off to be with your Isla. Everyone in the underworld knows that the man who exchanged rings with her and spent our wedding night with her… was me.” Lucian yelled, “Impossible! Father, Mother, how could you let this happen? This makes us a laughingstock!” His father’s face was grim. “You’re just now realizing we became a laughingstock yesterday? If it weren’t for Adrian, the Vance family’s name would be in ruins!” Suddenly, a formal announcement cut through the argument.

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1 Waking up in the middle of the night, my husband was crying, begging me to let him see the girl one last time. “I’ll just see her one last time and then I’ll come back. Please, can you do that for me?” In seven years of marriage, this was only the second time he’d spoken to me with such a pleading, placating tone. The first time was when I walked in on the girl scrambling out of his office, disheveled. He was afraid I’d make a scene, so he grabbed my hand and begged, “Honey, I promise I’ll break it off with her.” “Don’t divorce me, I’d die without you. Please?” I gave him a second chance. And he kept his word, diligently returning to family life, becoming the perfect husband everyone praised. Until tonight. I turned on the bedside lamp, looked into his eyes, and answered seriously, “Go. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets.” I had no regrets left. I hoped he wouldn’t either. … The sudden, harsh light made Aaron Gould instinctively close his eyes. The tear tracks on his face became starkly clear, glaringly so. I suddenly found the whole scene absurd, almost laughable. This man, who hadn’t even flinched when he took a rebar blow for me during our youth, nearly losing his right arm, was now weeping like this over saying goodbye to a girl in her early twenties. His drunken haze gradually receded as he scrutinized my expression. A few seconds later, he seemed like a tightly coiled spring that suddenly unspooled, collapsing onto the bed. “You can make a scene like before, you can hit me and forbid me to go.” “Why pretend you don’t care, just to make me feel guilty? It’s pretty pathetic, Sophia.” His expression was one of suppressed agony. Ever since Aaron returned to the family, such suffocating atmospheres had become common. Outsiders, unaware, would comment that we were more in love than ever after our seven-year itch. They would joke that Professor Gould now ran home from work like a lovesick teenager, unable to be apart from me for a second. His social media profile picture was me, his phone voluntarily submitted for my inspection. He was the epitome of a devoted husband. But only we knew the turbulent storm brewing beneath that seemingly calm exterior. After that incident, I became sensitive and fragile, and my words grew sharp and critical. If he said a certain necklace looked good, making me appear younger, I would demand to know if he was tired of me, thinking me old and faded because he had someone younger, fresher in his heart. He once took me to a trendy restaurant for a date, and everything was going well. But when I heard him casually say, “Their signature dish is quite good,” I suddenly erupted, demanding why he would bring me to a place he’d been to with another woman. Yet, I had never been like this before. 2 I used to be cheerful and optimistic, the life of the party among family and friends. How had I become like this? Honestly, the time I caught him cheating, I thought about divorce. He was the one who, back then, had spent a whole month begging me, swearing countless times that he would never make the same mistake. Yet later, he was also the one who stared at me with a cold face as I spiraled, asking if I was done making a scene. During my most emotional breakdown, I smashed nearly everything in the house, pointing at him and screaming hysterically: “Do you think I only forgave you that one time?!” “No, every night I lay awake, unable to sleep, remembering, I would forgive you again.” “Why are you the one who made the mistake, yet I’m the one suffering?!” The glass wasn’t broken by me, yet I walked barefoot over it every single day. Tonight was our eighth wedding anniversary. Everything had started so well. Aaron, uncharacteristically, drank a lot. With every sip, he would tell me “I love you.” He must have said it a hundred times, and we both blushed, as if we were back in our honeymoon phase. I even quietly thought to myself, Maybe, I should just forgive him. Let’s pretend none of it ever happened. But only moments ago, I suddenly realized how ridiculous I was. His breakdown wasn’t because he loved me. It was because another woman was leaving. So, suddenly, I felt no more regrets. I pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago from the bedside table and handed them to him. “Aaron Gould, I’m setting you free.” But he shot up from the bed. “Sophia, are you trying to drive me to my death before you’re satisfied?!” “Summer Vance is leaving for Toronto soon; we’ll never have a chance to see each other again. I’m just going as her professor to see her off. Is that really so wrong?!” His phone rang abruptly. He answered, his voice incredibly gentle. “Mmm, wait for me. I’ll be there in half an hour.” Before leaving, Aaron tossed the divorce papers into the trash. “Everything can wait until I get back.” “But divorce? Don’t even think about it.” The door slammed shut with a bang. In the room, only my own muffled sobs remained. I checked; there were no flights to Toronto tonight. Sure enough, not long after, Summer Vance sent me a photo. Aaron, bare-chested, was resting peacefully and securely in her arms. [Professor Gould says he can only sleep soundly in my presence now.] [Do you think he won’t divorce you because he still loves you? He just doesn’t want to affect the associate dean selection committee next week.] Looking at the divorce papers, meant to split our assets evenly, now discarded in the trash. I suddenly laughed. He was the one who betrayed me. So he should be the one to pay the price. 3 Aaron and I were college sweethearts. After graduation, he stayed on as a professor, and I went to work for a foreign company. But after we got married, he asked if I could resign, citing his busy school projects, and focus on our family. At the time, I was caught in the tumultuous infighting of my company, so I agreed. But now I was divorcing him. Returning to the workplace was inevitable. However, having been out of society for too long, the several-year gap on my resume would make it difficult to find a job with similar pay. So I decided to go abroad to polish my credentials, which would also make up for the shortcomings on my resume. As I used the computer in the study to browse the application requirements for foreign universities, I unexpectedly discovered a private folder. The title read: [To My Dearest]. Those three short words gradually blurred before my eyes. I, as if disbelieving, entered my birthday, his birthday, our wedding anniversary. I stubbornly tried every number with special meaning to us. But it was still wrong. Until I clicked on Summer Vance’s social media, found her birthday, and entered it. The folder unlocked. Even though I already knew the answer, seeing the result with my own eyes made my heart ache so much I could barely breathe. The folder was a hefty 4.3 GB. It was meticulously filled with everything about Summer Vance. A discarded hair clip, picked up by him, placed over his heart, and photographed. Videos of Summer Vance sleeping on the desk while they rushed projects in the studio together. Voice messages Summer Vance sent him, her address to him evolving from the initially distant “Professor Gould” to later “Brother,” then “Husband.” Aaron had carefully recorded his mood next to each entry. He called her his “Little Moon,” and he wrote: [Little Moon, I often feel like a sick dog chained up, only when I occasionally look up at you does my soul find release.] [Today you said you would give yourself to me as a gift, but I refused. Not because I don’t love you, but because I dare not profane you.] He hated that he hadn’t met her sooner, and even more, that he already had a family before he met her. I felt like a thief peeking into someone else’s privacy, watching their bone-deep love affair unfold through the screen. The last entry was from the day I discovered their affair. Aaron had written a suicide note, filled with guilt for Summer Vance. His address to her had changed; he called her, “My wife.” [My wife, if one day I unfortunately pass away, all my property will be yours.] [As for Sophia, I wronged her. A sum to ensure her comfortable old age will suffice.] All the blood in my body had turned completely cold, my hand gripping the mouse trembling uncontrollably. A wave of nausea surged in my stomach, and I hugged the trash can, throwing up with a retch. Just then, Aaron surprisingly returned. The moment he saw the computer screen, he panicked, stammering out an excuse. “No, no, it’s not like that, Sophia. Listen to me.” “I just wanted to vent my emotions. There’s nothing else between us…” Before he could finish, I wiped my mouth and sat up straight. Looking into his eyes, I said each word clearly: “I’m giving you two choices: either she leaves right now.” “Or I’ll expose all your disgusting affairs!” 4 Just as I expected, Aaron chose the first option. Not only was he afraid of damaging his career, but he also couldn’t bear for his “Little Moon” to be tainted in the slightest. So, when Summer Vance came to find me, I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was afraid she wouldn’t. I chose a quiet coffee shop for our meeting, a place Aaron and I used to frequent. Summer Vance looked exactly as she did in her social media photos: full of youthful collagen and vibrant energy. But she also had a common youthful flaw: she couldn’t keep her composure. “Big Sis, you saw the photos I sent you, right? We’ve already slept together.” “Tsk, tsk, I just casually mentioned leaving, and he got so desperate.” “But thank you too. If you hadn’t pushed him so hard, how else would he have realized how good I am?” She was like a ruffled hen, eager to provoke me into divorcing Aaron. But I just shrugged with a nonchalant smile, my gaze fixed on the bag she was carrying. “A new L-brand model. Aaron certainly doesn’t hesitate to spend money on you.” Summer Vance curved her lips triumphantly. But before she could speak, I continued, “I’ve researched your family; you can’t afford a six-figure bag.” “Little sister, let me give you a quick legal lesson. The money he spends on you is marital property. If we divorce, you’ll have to return half of it.” “But I suppose most of the money has already been spent?” “Or I could go to your parents. Then the entire village will know that you, Summer Vance, are a mistress in college!” Summer Vance’s smile froze. She shot up from her seat, her once delicate features instantly twisting into something almost grotesque. “You wouldn’t dare!” “You can try me and see if I dare!” Although I was sitting, my presence overshadowed hers. Just then, the girl, who had been so aggressive, suddenly glanced behind me. The next second, she quickly grabbed her coffee cup and splashed it all over her own face. When she spoke again, her eyes were red. “Sister, I’m sorry, there’s really nothing between me and Professor Gould.” “I’m leaving the country soon. Please, don’t pressure me anymore, okay?” Urgent footsteps approached from behind. I’d never seen Aaron look so frantic. He immediately pulled Summer Vance into his arms, tenderly wiping the coffee from her face. When he looked at me, his eyes were icy, but because we were in public, he didn’t dare say a word. I watched him with an ironic smile. Just then, several students trailing behind him, clearly his students who had just come from a meeting, notebooks still in hand, began to chatter. “So this is Professor Gould’s infamous shrew of a wife? Tsk, tsk, no wonder Professor Gould doesn’t want to go home!” “It’s the modern age, and she’s still playing the ‘aggrieved wife catching the mistress’ role! Spreading malicious rumors about a girl should be punishable, right?” “Exactly! Summer said she’s being forced to leave the country because of her, and she still comes here to humiliate her!” With each word they spoke, Summer Vance’s eyes reddened a bit more. And Aaron’s face paled a bit more. I raised an eyebrow, then in a move no one expected, walked over to Summer Vance. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face, then smiled at the students. “See? If I really wanted to hit her, I wouldn’t do something so ineffective and stupid.” Summer Vance clutched her face and tumbled into Aaron’s arms, fiercely suppressing the hatred in her eyes. Aaron finally lost his temper, shouting, “Enough! Sophia, don’t go too far!” I’m going too far? More was yet to come! But before I could retaliate, one of the boys defending Summer Vance shoved me hard. “What else do you want to do! If you touch her again, I’ll call the police!” I lost my balance for a moment and fell to the ground, my head hitting the table corner hard. For a moment, the world spun. The boy also panicked, quickly telling Aaron he didn’t mean it. But Aaron only gave me a deep look, then said nothing, leading his students away. I clutched my throbbing head and barely managed to stand up from the floor. I didn’t watch Aaron and Summer Vance leaving, supporting each other. Instead, my gaze went to a hidden spot on the ceiling.

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My long-distance husband, Cameron, claimed he had to work through the holidays, so I decided to fly out and surprise him. The only seats left were business class. I stared at the five-figure price tag, swallowed hard, and wiped out a year’s savings. Naturally, when I finally settled in, I couldn’t even figure out how to pull out the tray table. The impeccably dressed woman next to me sneered. “First time in business, honey?” I managed an awkward smile. “I’m sorry. You must be an executive. You look incredibly successful.” She scoffed, running a hand over her custom-tailored jacket. “Me? No. My sugar daddy is the CEO. If a plane doesn’t have business class, he charters a private jet for me.” I blinked. “A sugar daddy? That must be a rare arrangement.” “Not really. I’m his junior employee. I make mistakes all the time—cost him a fortune, actually. He’s always yelling at me and making me cry. Then I cry, and then… you know.” “How ironic,” I murmured. “My husband also has a female co-worker who’s always messing up.” “You’re married?” She looked me up and down, a look of casual disdain. “My Daddy has a wife around your age. He says he’s been over her for years—that she’s got zero novelty. Nothing like when I just flip my hair, you know? I told him I wanted to see him for the New Year. Poof—he tells his wife he has to work overtime.” My eyes locked onto the diamond on her ring finger. It was the exact duplicate of the wedding band I’d lost years ago. A cold, sick dread seized me. Wait. Cameron was a mid-level manager, scraping by. When did he become a CEO? … I stared at her ring finger. “That ring… it’s a wedding ring. Did you and your… Daddy… get married?” “This?” Kaia examined the solitaire, turning it slowly. “Oh, I made him take it from his original wife.” I froze. “I hadn’t planned to give the old broad a hard time,” Kaia continued, her voice light and careless, “but then she had the audacity to lose the baby and need him at the hospital right on my birthday. I spent my birthday completely alone.” I instinctively placed my hand on my stomach, the memory of that cruel winter flooding back. I was three months along. The black ice on the sidewalk outside our tiny rented apartment. Cameron was earning so little back then, an e-bike was a luxury. I fell hard. The baby, just blood on the ground. Cameron had stayed with me for three days and three nights, but when I woke up, the wedding ring was gone along with the child. “It’s okay, Grace,” he’d whispered, holding me tight. “We’ll have another baby. I’ll buy you a new ring.” I shook my head, tears blurring everything. “No, you said the company was doing layoffs. We need to save. When you make it big, then you can buy me a new one.” He’d looked at me, his eyes red, on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry, I failed you.” Kaia’s voice pulled me back. “So, you just asked him to take his wife’s ring and give it to you?” “Yep. He actually refused at first, said he’d buy me a more expensive one. But that old woman was so arrogant just because she was his wife. If I didn’t punish her, she’d be walking all over me, right?” I clamped my jaw shut. “Honestly, this diamond is cheap compared to what else he buys me. But it’s the wedding ring.” Kaia leaned back and gave me a smug smile. “A woman who lets herself get to that point—she deserves nothing better.” I squeezed the fabric of my dress until my knuckles were white. I forced a small, sickly smile. “Your Daddy is so generous. His wife must be getting quite the payoff to keep her quiet, right?” Kaia laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell you a secret: the old woman still doesn’t even know he’s a CEO.” “Why?” Kaia admired her diamond-studded manicure. “Because what’s the point? She spent all her best years struggling with him. If you were a man, once you got rich, would you spend money on a wife who’s past her prime? Can money bring back her youth?” The reflection in the window glass showed my own slightly drawn, exhausted face. Kaia nudged me. “Sister, you’re older than me, but you still have potential. We have a connection, so let me give you some advice. Women need to invest in fillers and skincare. Your skin looks a little dry. I bet your husband isn’t interested in you much anymore, is he?” I simply stared at her. Her skin was flawless, taut. I used to look like that. Maybe even better. Ten years of poverty and hard work in rented apartments—when I see old photos, I barely recognize myself. “Skincare… is expensive.” “So what?” Kaia shrugged. “My Daddy gives me a $50,000 monthly allowance, and he covers all my beauty treatments.” I watched the way her perfectly winged eyeliner caught the light, a tiny shard of glitter fixed at the corner. My hands were shaking. “How long have you been his… trophy?” “Since June 12th, 2023. Why?” My trembling intensified. June 12th, 2023. The day my mother died. My mother needed 150,000 for surgery. I remembered Cameron begging everyone. He gathered all his savings, all his earnings, scraping together 100,000. It was everything he had. I found eight thousand more. It wasn’t enough. My mother was gone. He held me, tears pouring down his face. “I failed you, Grace. I’m a bastard. I couldn’t even earn enough for your mother’s medicine! You suffer so much being with me…” My heart was a raw wound, but I wiped his tears away. “You did your best. Mom knew it. I know it. I’m the one who couldn’t find the rest of the $50,000.” His tears fell onto my hands. He gripped me tightly. “Just wait. Just wait. I promise, we won’t struggle like this anymore.” I nodded through my grief. $50,000. He could have gotten it. “Sister, you know what? That month, his wife’s mother also needed $50,000 for her care.” Kaia winked. “He was going to give it to her.” I stopped breathing. “Did he give it to you for your allowance instead?” “No. He’s rich, $50,000 is nothing to him. I told him if her mother died, the wife would be totally alone, without any family. Then, even if she found out about me, she wouldn’t dare leave him.” My teeth were about to shatter. “Plus, I really had my eye on a new Chanel that month. It was exactly $50,000.” I glared at her. “Aren’t you afraid his wife will find out what you did?” “Please. I’m smarter than that.” Kaia laughed. “I told him to give his wife $100,000—to pretend it was every penny he had. That way, she’d think her husband tried his best and she’d never look into his bank accounts!” Her face soured momentarily. “The only thing that sucked was his reason for agreeing to it. He said it was because he wanted to prevent the old woman from leaving him if she ever discovered me. Ugh. She’s luckier than she knows.” SMACK! A stinging slap landed unexpectedly across Kaia’s face. Her drink overturned. A flight attendant rushed over to clean the mess. Kaia was furious. “Are you insane! What the hell was that for!” “That,” I spat, “is for being a brazen home-wrecker!” The flight attendants hurried to separate us, moving Kaia to an empty seat farther down the row, soothing her with soft voices. Kaia finally settled, drying her hands with a napkin from the flight attendant, and looked at me with pure contempt. “I hate sanctimonious busybodies like you. Always harping on about mistresses. Honestly…” She scoffed. “It just means you’re old and you can’t hook a man anymore. Back in your prime, you would have begged for this life!” “You—” The flight attendant grabbed my arm, stopping me from lunging. I bit down on my retort and sank back into my seat. I didn’t want to cause trouble for the crew. Kaia eyed me again. “I’m telling you the truth. You’re past your expiration date. Your husband is definitely cheating on you, too. Go home and check his phone. A woman like you… men don’t want to come home to.” SPLASH! The new drink the flight attendant had just given me sailed through the air and hit Kaia full in the face. She shrieked. Attendants rushed between us again. The Purser approached me, smiling apologetically. “Ms. Jones, this woman is a valuable client of ours. Please, calm down. May I get you some fruit?” “Valuable client?” I hissed. The Purser leaned in, lowering her voice. “She is with Mr. Coleman, the new CEO. I’m advising you for your own good, Ms. Jones. Mr. Coleman is very protective of her.” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. The plane landed at the connecting airport. Neither of us was disembarking yet. I switched off airplane mode. I sent a text to Cameron: Where are you? He replied instantly with a photo of himself at a desk: Earning money for my wife. For me, or for someone else? No reply. I sent a question mark. The familiar voice came from Kaia’s direction a moment later. “You got juice thrown on you? Who would dare do that to my Sweetheart?” “Some old woman! It’s your fault! If you were here, she wouldn’t have touched me! You ruined my trip!” “Okay, okay… Daddy’s fault.” [Zelle Transfer: $50,000] Kaia’s phone chimed with the automated voice notification. Cameron’s voice was warm. “Go buy some little things you love.” I gripped my armrests. Kaia’s scowl vanished, replaced by a pout. “Hmph! No use. You said you missed me and wanted to spend New Year’s with me! I wouldn’t have been on this flight if it weren’t for that lunatic! No amount of money will fix this!” Cameron didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded amused. “And what about the new villa Daddy bought you?” Kaia’s eyes widened slightly. “My Sweetheart smiled. Are you happy now?” “No, I am not!” She pouted again. “But… fine. I’ll give you a chance. Only because I love you.” “Good. Daddy will make it up to you tonight, okay?” “Three hours. Not a second less!” “The whole night, if you want.” My body shook violently beneath my dress. I thought of our last few visits after he’d been transferred to the city. We barely went beyond hugging and kissing. Every time I tried to initiate sex, he would sigh. “I’m too stressed from work. Let me recuperate, okay?” And he’d leave before he had the chance. Kaia blew a kiss to the camera and ended the video call. It was then that Cameron’s text came through. Wife, why don’t you trust me? Are you sad I have to work through New Year’s? When I get back, I’ll take you to that little rotating hot pot place you love, okay? The plane started its taxi toward the runway. A flight attendant approached Kaia’s new seat with a black, embossed box. “Ms. Rhodes, this is a gift a gentleman asked us to deliver to you.” “Oh! A Prada necklace! How did he know I wanted this one?” The attendant smiled and handed her a card. “Mr. Coleman also asked us to relay a message: ‘He hopes Ms. Rhodes won’t be troubled by any noise, that you remain brave and true to yourself, and that you regard all obstacles as nothing. Mr. Coleman will always stand behind you, and he will always love you.’” I closed my eyes, staring at Cameron’s text about the cheap hot pot place. “Ms. Jones, this diamond is from Mr. Coleman for you.” The Purser handed me a loose stone. I frowned. “For me?” The Purser nodded. “Mr. Coleman knows you and Ms. Rhodes had an unpleasant exchange. He said Ms. Rhodes has high blood pressure and the doctor said she mustn’t get upset. So, Ms. Jones, Mr. Coleman asks that you apologize to Ms. Rhodes. A sincere apology.” I looked at the diamond and laughed—a sound utterly devoid of humor. “Just an apology? Isn’t this a bit much?” “Ha ha, don’t worry about the cost. Mr. Coleman can earn several of these in a single day.” A diamond that cost six figures. He could earn several a day? I rolled the small stone between my fingers. I smiled. A stranger was getting more than I ever did. I nodded. “Fine. An apology it is.” “Ms. Rhodes, Mr. Coleman has sent her to apologize to you!” I bowed slightly. “I’m sorry for striking you. Please forgive me, Ms. Rhodes.” “Oh, I will.” Kaia rose from her seat. “Let me slap you twice, and I’ll forgive you.” The Purser quickly interjected. “Ms. Rhodes, she is older than you. Please be the bigger person and don’t stoop to her level.” “So what if she’s older?” Kaia’s smile was vicious. “This face is already a lost cause anyway. A few slaps won’t make a difference—no man will like her either way. I’ll slap her, she gets a diamond, and she should be grateful.” An attendant tugged my sleeve. “Ma’am, maybe just let her. The whole thing will be over. She is Mr. Coleman’s guest.” “Yes, Ms. Jones. It’s a six-figure diamond. It’s not a loss for you.” Six figures. I would have to struggle and save for a decade to get that much. This tiny stone could buy ten years of my life. I twisted the diamond one last time. CLATTER. I tossed it onto Kaia’s tray table. It rolled and dropped to the floor. “I don’t want it.” SMACK! A slap landed hard on my cheek. Kaia hadn’t hesitated. “How dare you refuse my charity?” The blow was fully intended to hurt. I staggered back two steps. An attendant rushed to steady me. “Ms. Jones, let it go. Ms. Rhodes has always been volatile.” “We’ll find the diamond for you, ma’am.” SMACK! My hand whipped out, catching Kaia across the face with devastating force. She crumpled back into her seat. “You… You hit me back!” “You bet your ass I did!” I moved to strike her again, but the flight crew intervened, pulling us apart. For the rest of the flight, we were monitored closely by the cabin crew. The plane landed. Kaia, red-eyed and enraged, was the first one off the aircraft. I watched her hurry through the jet bridge and rush through the exit. She collapsed into a man’s embrace. Her face was still blotchy from the slap. “What happened?” Cameron’s eyes held more panic than they had on the day of my miscarriage. “Did she hit you again?” “She did! And it’s your fault! That cheap diamond only made her bolder! Nobody has ever dared to hit me before, boo-hoo!” Kaia was an expert crier. No man could resist that sound. “Where is she? I’ll go talk to her.” “Right here.” I stepped out of the jet bridge. Cameron’s body went rigid. I lifted the brim of my cap. “Hello, Mr. Coleman.”

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For my last three days before leaving this world, I decided to get along with Arthur and be the perfect wife he always wanted. I no longer got jealous over his first love, and I stopped throwing tantrums when he stayed out all night. On the first day, he scoffed coldly, “Glad you finally know your place. If you had acted like this sooner, everyone would be happy.” On the second day, his gaze became complicated, his voice thick with confusion, “Maya, why aren’t you angry?” I smiled faintly. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” 1 Before I finally reconnected with the System, Arthur had been giving me the silent treatment for a week. “Host, you’ve finally decided to leave,” the System’s voice chimed, laced with a hint of schadenfreude. I didn’t blame it. Years ago, when I successfully conquered Arthur’s heart and chose to stay in this world, the System had tried its best to dissuade me. “According to my years of experience, hosts who choose to stay never meet a good end.” But back then, I was blindly confident that the love between Arthur and me was indestructible, and I firmly rejected its advice. Now, I could only smile bitterly. “How much time do I have left?” “I can pull you out in exactly three days.” I nodded, deciding to cherish these final three days and get along with Arthur. After the System went silent, I picked up my phone and called Arthur. It was our first time communicating in a week. The call was declined several times in a row. I mechanically redialed. Finally, Arthur’s voice came through, annoyed and irritable: “Maya, are you ever going to stop?” I froze. Even though I was already disappointed, my heart still stung. I deliberately ignored the hostility in his tone and asked gently: “Arthur, are you coming home for dinner tonight? I made your favorite pan-seared ribeye.” There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a light scoff: “I’ll come back, but Maya, I need you to lower your proud head and apologize to Chloe first.” … A week ago, Arthur celebrated his first love Chloe’s birthday. Chloe posted a photo on her social media story: [With you here, I’ll never have to envy anyone else.] In the photo, Chloe had a bit of frosting on her cheek, her hands clasped together making a wish. She was surrounded by designer gift boxes, and Arthur was standing right behind her. Under the warm yellow candlelight, she smiled with pure, innocent joy. Mutual friends commented below, gushing about how sweet they looked. Chloe replied with a shy smiley face. I also left a like and a comment: [I’m so jealous you have my husband to keep you company.] A few minutes later, the post was deleted. Arthur’s call came immediately after. He furiously reprimanded me: “Maya, are you sick in the head? Today is Chloe’s birthday. You purposely tried to ruin her day, didn’t you?” I could hear Chloe sobbing softly in the background. “Arthur, don’t blame Maya. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have shown off that you were celebrating with me.” Arthur immediately softened his tone to coax her. “It has nothing to do with you. She’s just picking a fight with me and using you as a punching bag.” His tone turned cold and hard again as he spoke to me: “But she overestimates her own importance. Nothing is more important than your birthday.” Every word felt like a knife slicing my flesh. I clenched my fists in anger and mocked, “Right. Your first love’s birthday is obviously way more important than your own wedding anniversary.” Arthur’s breathing hitched. He lowered his voice and asked, “Today is our anniversary?” But before I could answer, Chloe’s crying came through the receiver again. “Maya, it’s all my fault. I’ll come apologize to you in person right now…” The tiny bit of guilt Arthur had seemed to vanish instantly. He gently consoled Chloe, then continued to scold me: “It’s just an anniversary. We can celebrate it any year. This is Chloe’s first birthday since she moved back to the States. Maya, can’t you be a little more generous?!” I enunciated every word clearly, telling him that no, I couldn’t. Then I hung up. Intense love and a perfectly stable temper can never coexist, but unfortunately, Arthur didn’t understand that. On the ice cream cake on my counter, the two little kissing figurines had slowly melted, ruining the words “Happy 7th Anniversary.” I picked up the cake and threw it in the trash. My phone chimed with a new message. I opened it to find a provocation from Chloe’s burner account. [Maya, I told you long ago. When forced to choose, Arthur will always choose me. Do you believe me now?] A few hours ago, I didn’t. But now, it was an undeniable fact. Arthur didn’t come home that night. When I woke up the next morning, he was in the dining room eating breakfast. Seeing me, he cast a cold glance and said, “Come to the office with me later and apologize to Chloe. Because of your comment, she felt so guilty she couldn’t sleep all night.” I let out a scoff. “I’m not going.” “I’ve never heard of a rule where the actual wife has to apologize to the mistress.” “Maya, why do you have to be so vicious?!” He slammed his hand on the dining table. “Chloe is just my secretary. Her family is bankrupt, and she has nothing left. Do you not have a shred of sympathy?” The corners of my lips curled up as I looked at him mockingly. “A secretary who sleeps in your bed?” Arthur’s face flushed with fury. He flipped the table. Plates and silverware shattered across the tile floor with a deafening crash. I closed my eyes and turned my head away. The disappointment in my heart layered up, thicker and thicker. How did Arthur turn into this? Arthur growled with resentment, “Since you’re going to be this stubborn, let’s just take a break from each other for a while.” He slammed the door and left. He hadn’t been back for a week. I was so heartbroken I suffered through sleepless nights. But during this time, Chloe’s burner account never stopped updating. [My boss brought me on a business trip to the Maldives! So happy~] [Cry, I accidentally fell on the beach and scraped my knee on a rock. My boss heartachingly scolded me for ten minutes, but I punished him by making him go buy me cake~] [Bonus: A sneaky pic of his abs~ Will my boss hit me if he finds out I took this?] I didn’t argue or throw a fit. I just quietly saved all the screenshots. When someone has rotted to the core, you should throw them away promptly. This morning, Chloe’s post indicated they had returned from the Maldives. … Arthur’s voice continued to come through the receiver: “Maya, did you hear what I said?” My thoughts returned to the present. I replied indifferently, “Okay.” The noisy background on his end suddenly went dead quiet. A few seconds later, Arthur asked again, “What did you say?” I forced a smile onto my lips. “I said, I agree to go apologize to Chloe.” For these final three days, I will fulfill all your demands. And then, I will leave you forever. 2 I followed the location Arthur sent me. The private room at the club was bustling with people. The moment I appeared in the doorway, someone let out a low whistle: “Look who’s here.” The teasing voice was full of anticipation. Ever since Chloe returned, Arthur and I had been having minor fights every three days and major blowouts every five. Everyone in our social circle knew. I scanned the room and found Arthur sitting dead center on the leather sofa. Our eyes met, his expression unreadable. Chloe was sitting right next to him, leaning against him like a fragile little bird. “Sister-in-law, I heard you came to apologize to Chloe,” someone jeered. Arthur’s friends were the absolute best at blowing with the wind. When Arthur loved me, they called me “Sister-in-law” with respect and never dared to make jokes at my expense. Now that Chloe was back, anyone with eyes could see her status in Arthur’s heart. Naturally, they looked at me with a lot more contempt. I took two steps forward, my gaze sweeping over the glasses of liquor on the table. I gently picked one up. “To show my sincerity, I’ll down this glass as an apology to Ms. Thorne. Is that alright?” Arthur tilted his head, watching me with amusement, staying silent. The people around us looked eager, clearly enjoying the drama. “Maya, what are you doing?” Chloe suddenly stood up, acting like a startled rabbit, frantically trying to snatch the glass from my hand. “You just said a few mean things to me, which I deserved to hear anyway. How could I possibly accept an apology from you?” As she spoke, her eyes turned red. A flash of heartache crossed Arthur’s eyes. He stood up and pulled her back down to the sofa. “Why wouldn’t you accept it? With me here, no one is allowed to bully you.” Chloe’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She looked at Arthur with gratitude, waiting a few seconds before looking back at me. “Then just drinking this small glass is enough. Once you drink it, all our misunderstandings will be cleared up.” She smiled and handed the glass back to me. “Maya, Arthur is just too protective of me. Please don’t be mad.” I looked at Arthur, chuckled softly, and took the glass with absolute detachment. “Of course not.” I raised the glass. “Everyone here is a witness. In the past, I was too prone to jealousy and misunderstood Arthur and Ms. Thorne’s relationship, which offended her. I’m drinking this glass today as a self-imposed penalty to apologize to Ms. Thorne.” After finishing my piece, I swept my gaze over the crowd. Everyone was stunned. Someone whispered, “No way, is this really the Maya who never bows her head to anyone?” Even Arthur, sitting in the center, looked dazed for a moment. Ignoring the flash of astonishment in his eyes, I raised my hand and downed the entire glass of liquor in one go. I am severely allergic to alcohol. Others might not know it, but Arthur did. After downing that one glass, my body already felt like a piece of driftwood tossed in a turbulent river. Someone caught my arm. “Maya, don’t drink anymore.” His face was blurry. I squinted, finally recognizing him as Arthur’s close friend, Leo. He seemed to be the only person in the room who hadn’t joined in the mocking. “Thank you,” I whispered. Just as I was about to look up and ask Arthur if that was enough of an apology… I saw Chloe quickly shoot a glance at the rest of the group. Immediately, someone yelled out, “Sister-in-law has a great tolerance! But if you really want to show your sincerity, one glass isn’t going to cut it.” With a malicious grin, he pushed an entire bottle of red wine toward me. Then he looked back at Arthur. “Right, Arthur?” Arthur’s brows were already furrowed. He stared silently at the wine bottle being pushed toward me. Just as he opened his mouth to speak… Chloe’s sobbing voice interrupted him: “Don’t say that. The fact that Maya would lower herself to apologize to someone like me, whose family has lost everything, is already an honor. As long as she doesn’t storm into the office to humiliate me and disrupt company work anymore, I’m okay with anything.” Arthur raised his eyebrows, looking at her in disbelief. “She stormed into the office to humiliate you? When did this happen?!” His voice rose, silencing the entire room. 3 Chloe stammered, “It was… it was my first day as your secretary.” Anger surged in Arthur’s eyes as he looked up at me. I admitted it openly. “That’s right. I did go there that day.” Before that incident, I had fought with Arthur countless times over Chloe. In the middle of the night, Chloe would get a fever and demand he take her to the hospital. Chloe would get lost and demand he pick her up. Chloe would go shopping for clothes and send him pictures, asking which one looked best. We argued and screamed at each other. “Arthur, can you please care a little more about my feelings? I love you. I can’t help but mind when you get so close to another woman. It hurts me.” “You know perfectly well that you are the most important person in the world to me.” He would lovingly wipe my tears and promise me he would keep his distance from Chloe. But just a few days later, I received a text from Chloe: [Maya, what’s the point of you trying to stop him? I just shed a few tears, and Arthur agreed to make me his secretary anyway.] I thought she was just making things up to drive a wedge between us. I believed Arthur wouldn’t lie to me. But, fueled by a sliver of anxiety, I quietly went to Arthur’s office. And there I saw Chloe, sitting right in the secretary’s area. She absentmindedly twirled her hair, looking at me smugly. “Maya, do you like my earrings? Arthur gave them to me as a welcome gift.” The look on her face disgusted me to my core. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. “Chloe, taking other people’s hand-me-downs… doesn’t it make you feel dirty?” Back then, she covered her cheek, but smiled at me arrogantly. “Maya, are you scared because you can feel yourself losing Arthur?” And now, Chloe was holding her perfectly fine cheek with red eyes, sobbing: “Maya just slapped me once that day. It’s okay. As long as Maya could vent her anger without taking it out on Arthur, I don’t care how much it hurt.” After hearing this, Arthur glared at me with a dark, terrifying expression. The rage in his eyes looked ready to swallow me whole. “Maya, I thought you were just being dramatic, that your possessiveness was acting up because you couldn’t accept Chloe coming back. I never imagined you had turned into such a vicious, malicious woman.” His icy voice carried not a single shred of pity. “Honestly, making you drink this whole bottle is letting you off easy.” I looked up in shock, staring at him. “Is that really what you think of me?” Arthur scoffed lightly. “Facts speak louder than words.” “You know I can’t drink alcohol!” I stared at him unblinkingly. Arthur sneered. “Then what the hell are you doing here today?” He looked toward the door behind me, his jaw tight. “If you aren’t actually here to apologize, you can leave right now.” It felt like a thousand needles had pierced my heart. A single tear hit the floor and vanished instantly. I was surprised to find that before coming here, I thought I had already mentally prepared myself to leave this world. Yet, it seemed a tiny thread of hope had still remained in my heart. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding? Maybe… he still loves me. Unfortunately, that bottle of wine crushed my last lifeline. Arthur, I don’t want you anymore. I smiled as I looked at him. “If I drink this bottle, will you forgive me? Will you come home with me?” Chloe looked up at him too. Arthur’s dark eyes revealed no emotion. His voice was flat. “The person you need to apologize to is Chloe, not me.” “Maya, adults need to take responsibility for their actions.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and nodded numbly. “Okay.” But the next second, the wine bottle was snatched from my hands. “Arthur, a whole bottle will kill her!” It was Leo. Arthur smirked, ignoring him entirely, and looked only at me: “Maya, the choice is yours. I’m not forcing you.” My heart felt like it had already been shredded to pieces by the wind. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain at this moment. “I’ll drink it.” I stubbornly took the bottle back from Leo, murmured a low ‘thank you’ to him again, put the bottle to my lips, and took massive, desperate gulps. As my mind began to blur, I thought I saw Arthur shoving through the crowd, striding rapidly toward me. The bottle was yanked from my hands, and my body collapsed heavily. Arthur, this wine is so bitter. 4 In my dreams, it felt like I was transported back to seven years ago. I had just transmigrated into this world. Back then, Arthur was repressed and ruthless. He was an illegitimate child, only brought back to the Vance family after his mother died. The System had briefed me on the plot. When Arthur was first brought back to the Vance family as a child, the other elite heirs despised him and constantly bullied him. Once, when a group of rich kids was shooting him with water guns, Chloe, wearing a little white princess dress, stepped forward to defend him. She became an unforgettable beacon of beauty in Arthur’s memory. What he didn’t know was that it was just a show of bravery and kindness Chloe put on to impress the male lead standing not far away. Arthur was nothing but a tool in her play. When I arrived in this world, Arthur had slowly begun to show his brilliance within the Vance family. But his temperament was violent, and his business methods were cold and brutal. The patriarch of the Vance family did not favor him. I appeared by his side as the youngest daughter of a close family friend, having just returned from abroad, set up on a blind date with him. At first, Arthur had no interest in me whatsoever. For an entire month, the mission progress bar didn’t move an inch. Until one day, I attended a major real estate negotiation in my father’s place. Arthur was also there. At the dinner table, a prominent figure intentionally made things difficult for me, demanding I toast every single person at the table. After one glass, my body had already started itching, and red hives began to appear. As I raised the second glass to my lips, a hand clamped down on my wrist. It was Arthur. He took the glass from my hand and smiled faintly at the crowd. “The Vance and Hayes families have been close friends for generations. I’ll drink the remaining glasses on behalf of my little sister here.” Amidst the clinking glasses, he smoothly redirected the conversation away from me, leaning in to whisper in my ear: “If it’s an alcohol allergy, I suggest you slip away right now and take some medicine. I’ll cover for you.” I froze. When I looked up, his eyes were shining brightly as he seamlessly blended into the crowd’s conversation. Confident, composed, and impeccably graceful. In that instant, I felt my heart skip a beat. I started intentionally appearing around him frequently. Using care and gentleness, I slowly melted the harsh spikes he wore as armor, and helped mend his relationship with Grandpa Vance. I also utilized my family’s network to help him secure deal after deal, increasing his leverage within the Vance Group. Our shared footprints of hard work covered the globe. During a negotiation in South America, we were caught in the crossfire of local cartels. We were trapped for three days and three nights. Just as we were about to make it out of the jungle, we encountered the cartel thugs. I threw myself in front of him, taking a bullet straight to the left side of my chest. In the nick of time, the backup we had arranged finally arrived, rescuing us from the desperate outlaws. In the ambulance transporting me to the hospital, Arthur’s eyes turned red for the first time. Huge tears fell onto my face. Trembling all over, he asked me why I was so stupid and begged me to hold on. He said, “We haven’t even had our wedding yet. You aren’t my wife yet. You can’t die.” At that moment, I truly believed I was going to die in that foreign land. I reached up, stroked Arthur’s face, and forced a smile: “Don’t cry, Arthur. I came to this world specifically for you anyway.” At the same time, the System notified me: “Host, mission progress has reached 100%. Congratulations, you have successfully conquered the target.” Miraculously, the bullet missed my vital organs, and I survived. After three months of recovery, Arthur married me in a grand wedding that made global headlines. In the countless late nights of passionate intimacy after our marriage, he whispered “I love you” in my ear over and over again. By then, Chloe had long been married to the male lead overseas. I truly thought that Arthur and I wouldn’t have any more obstacles in our world. … In a groggy haze, I felt someone changing my clothes. I stubbornly pushed them away. “Don’t touch me. I have a husband. My husband is Arthur Vance.” The hands unbuttoning my shirt paused, a thumb resting exactly on the bullet scar. The old wound had healed and scarred over years ago, new flesh replacing the old. But it forever immortalized that moment on my body. The person seemed stunned for a long time. He coaxed gently, “Be good, don’t fuss. Let’s get your clothes changed and get you a shower.” He rambled on, saying a bunch of other things I couldn’t hear clearly. I covered his mouth. “So noisy.” After saying that, a wave of profound sorrow washed over me, and I began sobbing uncontrollably. The person asked, “Why are you crying?” That one sentence pulled the thread that unraveled me entirely. I cried even harder. “My husband fell in love with someone else. He bullies me. I don’t want him anymore. I’m leaving.” The person seemed to freeze. After that, I don’t know what happened, as I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up again, it was broad daylight. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains. Shadows played across the bedroom. The System’s voice sounded: “Host, you’re leaving tomorrow. Do you have any lingering regrets?” It warned, “The bastard Arthur is right outside.” As soon as the System finished speaking, Arthur appeared in the doorway holding a glass of honey water. His voice was slightly hoarse, and he looked at me with an unnatural expression. “Maya, you’re awake.”

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