Category: English

Everyone knows crying out loud at a British funeral is disrespectful, but I let my husband’s adopted sister wail anyway. Why? Because in my past life, my husband had a distant relative who was a British noble. When he passed away, the lawyer said my husband could inherit his fortune and invited him to the funeral. His adopted sister, Chloe, insisted on tagging along to “see the world.” But really, she wanted to curry favor with the aristocrats and show off. Her plan? Cry her eyes out at the funeral to attract attention. I tried to stop her: “British nobles hate dramatic scenes at funerals. Forget the inheritance—we’ll probably get kicked out!” Chloe cried, accusing me of looking down on her and thinking she wasn’t good enough to mingle with nobility. She ran out of the venue and got caught in a riot, where she was accidentally shot and killed. I thought my husband would be devastated. Instead, he silently attended the funeral and inherited the fortune. Six months later, on our anniversary, he took me to a snowy mountain for a photoshoot. The moment we got up there, he stuffed me into a sleeping bag and tied it shut. “If you hadn’t made a big deal out of nothing, Chloe wouldn’t have run out and gotten killed.” I was buried alive in the snow, freezing to death while my husband used the inheritance to become a CEO. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Chloe insisted on crying at the funeral. 1 “Sis, why won’t you let me cry?” “The Duke had no children. What’s wrong with me shedding a few tears for him?” Sitting in the car on the way to the funeral, hearing Chloe’s familiar whining, I realized with a jolt that I had been reborn. Chloe’s eyes were red. She hadn’t even started her performance for the Duke yet, but she was already playing the victim with me. My mother-in-law hugged her, shooting me a glare. “A noble’s funeral is full of important people! What’s wrong with a little crying?” “Maybe someone will see her kind heart and a rich suitor will come knocking!” Seeing she had backup, Chloe stopped hiding her intentions. She checked her eyeshadow in the mirror. “I’ve been practicing my makeup for a month. Today, I’ll look so pitiful and beautiful when I cry!” “Sis is just jealous because I’m young and pretty. She’s afraid I’ll outshine her in front of the nobles!” Yeah, Chloe had been preparing for this day for a long time. She spent a fortune at top beauty salons and even took acting classes to learn how to cry beautifully. I sneered, my eyes full of mockery. “You’re going to a funeral, not a speed dating event!” “Dressed like that? Are you afraid people won’t realize you’re fishing for a man?” Chloe looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She started sobbing. “I researched the Duke’s life! I hired a writer for my eulogy and memorized it!” “Is it so bad to let the Duke know he has family from abroad who cares? You just look down on me!” My husband, Ryan, chimed in impatiently. “Nancy, what is wrong with you! It’s not enough to cause trouble at home, you have to embarrass us abroad too?” “Chloe put so much effort into this. Maybe she’ll make us look good! And you? What do you do besides pick fights?” Ryan had always been like this. He spoiled his adopted sister and always assumed I was bullying her. No matter how ridiculous Chloe acted, he never disciplined her. Instead, he forced me to cater to her. In my past life, I emphasized that wailing at a British noble’s funeral was highly disrespectful. My father-in-law needed money for surgery. The inheritance was our only hope. If we disturbed the peace of the deceased and annoyed the guests, forget the money—we’d be thrown out! But Chloe was stubborn. She insisted on crying. When I couldn’t persuade her, I physically covered her mouth to stop her. Chloe was furious. She ran out crying and was killed in a riot. Ryan got the inheritance, but he blamed me for Chloe’s death and pushed me off a snowy mountain! This time, I was going to watch Chloe dig her own grave. She could cry all she wanted. If Ryan didn’t get the inheritance today, his father wouldn’t have money for surgery. Then they’d really have a funeral to cry at! 2 After we entered, a server noticed we were foreigners and explained the funeral procedures, adding a reminder: “According to British aristocratic custom, loud crying is not permitted at the funeral…” As soon as the server left, Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Hmph, she’s just jealous because I’m prettier than her. She’s afraid her master will like me!” My mother-in-law nodded eagerly. “Those women serving nobles… they’re all scheming!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Chloe was way too confident. Did she really think she was beautiful enough to make every woman in the world jealous? Seeing me laugh, she seemed to realize something. “You were chatting so happily with that server. Did you bribe her?” “Just to stop me from crying? You really went to a lot of trouble!” Ryan yelled at me too. “Nancy, behave yourself! Prince Charles is attending today!” “If you mess up my inheritance, I won’t forgive you!” Hearing “Prince,” Chloe’s eyes lit up. My mother-in-law warned me, “Nancy, don’t cause trouble! If you ruin my chance to be a Prince’s mother-in-law, I’ll make Ryan divorce you!” I found it hilarious. Did they really think Chloe had a shot? One look and Prince Charles would fall for her? Knowing royalty was present, she still dared to use a funeral to hook a man! I waited for the inevitable disaster. As more guests arrived, Chloe approached every eligible bachelor to shake hands. Using her broken English accent, she tried to charm everyone. Suddenly, she clutched her chest, pretending to be short of breath, and turned to me. “Sis, go to the car and get my spray. I’m afraid I’ll hyperventilate later.” Heh, she needed to prep her throat for the wailing. I went to the car without thinking. But as soon as I got in, my hands and feet were tied. Bang! The door locked. Chloe looked at me through the window with disdain. “You kept stopping me because you’re afraid I’ll marry a noble and be better than you?” My mother-in-law gave me a cold look. “You’re married and washed up. Today, there are so many young talents for our Chloe to choose from!” Seeing Ryan standing there doing nothing, I glared at him. “You’re letting them lock me in here? It’s hot! Do you want to suffocate me?” He frowned, scolding me impatiently. “Stop playing the victim. I’m tired of you competing with Chloe!” “Stay in the car until the funeral is over!” He turned and left. Chloe was still fixing her makeup in the side mirror. Watching her cake on the powder, I couldn’t help but sneer. “Put on any more powder, and people will think it’s your funeral!” She frowned, then smirked. “Sis, you should be hoping I catch a rich husband.” “If I don’t find a good one, I wouldn’t mind stealing my brother!” Heh. Since Ryan pushed me off that mountain, I saw through his sick feelings for Chloe. Blaming me for her death, killing me… On the surface, he was my husband. deep down, he only cared about his adopted sister. I looked at her and smiled. “Steal him? I don’t want that trash anymore. He’s yours!” 3 Once the funeral started, Chloe began reciting her eulogy. At first, it was just soft sobbing, but soon it escalated to uncontrollable weeping. People around her stared, but Chloe didn’t notice. She thought their shocked looks meant they were moved by her grief. A gentleman handed her a handkerchief as she stepped down. Chloe’s eyes lit up, thinking he was hitting on her. Her crying got even louder, tears streaming down her face. The woman next to the gentleman sneered and poked her. “You’re from abroad, so maybe you don’t know our rules.” “But at a solemn occasion like this, who are you performing for?” Chloe assumed the woman was jealous and immediately snapped back. “You’re not sad about the Duke’s death, so you think tears are worthless!” “You’re cold-blooded! You have no right to teach me rules!” After her retort, Chloe realized that her crying worked! It attracted a man and made a noblewoman jealous! She was convinced her plan was working. She grabbed my mother-in-law and they started wailing together, louder than a street vendor. The guests frowned. Afraid of trouble, someone asked the priest to intervene. They thought maybe he could explain the customs to this foreign woman. But just as the priest raised his hand to comfort Chloe… She looked up, saw an old man, and shoved him away. The priest’s face darkened at the rude gesture. He warned sternly: “Stop crying! Our noble funerals require quiet mourning!” “This behavior is disrespectful to the deceased!” Chloe decided this old man was just picking on her because he couldn’t take advantage of her! She snapped: “God teaches compassion, but you cling to these dusty old rules!” “Not letting people cry? Why suppress human nature?” The priest was stunned speechless by her logic. Seeing everyone looking at her, Chloe felt triumphant. She thought her unique perspective and eloquence had impressed the crowd! As for the unfriendly looks? Just jealous women! She whispered to Ryan: “Bro, cry! See? Everyone admires me!” “Don’t you want to meet nobles? This is your chance!” Hearing there was profit to be made, Ryan started wailing like his parents had died. At that moment, I was standing on the second floor, having been rescued by a noble. I watched Chloe and the family put on their show. Those idiots were crying so hard they didn’t see the noble’s face on the balcony turning black with rage. The real show was just beginning! 4 The wailing made it impossible to proceed with the ceremony. The Duke’s head housekeeper couldn’t take it anymore. She approached Chloe. “Miss, you didn’t know the Duke, so you don’t understand him.” “I served him for forty years. In his later years, he always said he hated crying and performative grief at funerals.” Chloe assumed the woman was just a bitter servant who didn’t get any inheritance. “Some people serve for forty years just for a paycheck. No status, no name. What do you know about the Duke’s suffering?” “The Duke died alone, and you, who were with him for forty years, are so cold-hearted?” Her words were like a knife, making the housekeeper’s eyes red. Unable to contain her grief, the housekeeper turned to leave. I saw this and chased after her to comfort her. Chloe saw me and yelled: “Why are you everywhere? Escaped already?” “Sucking up to a servant? What good will that do you?” I glared at her with contempt. Chloe had the nerve to say she knew the Duke’s life? She didn’t know that this housekeeper was the person the Duke respected most. She was the first in line for the inheritance, but she remembered the Duke’s kindness. Thinking she was too old, she declined the inheritance, leaving it for those who needed it more. And yet, Chloe dared to insult her publicly? Once the housekeeper left, Chloe saw no more obstacles. She waved Ryan and her mom away. She knelt and hugged the Duke’s coffin, crying her heart out. She was determined to make sure Prince Charles saw her “deep affection” the moment he walked in! Her behavior was so ugly that the lawyer who invited us panicked! “Stop howling! Prince Charles will be here any minute. He cares about etiquette!” “If he sees this, he’ll throw you out!” Chloe exploded: “You’re a lawyer, lying to the heirs?” “Using the Prince to scare us so you can steal the money?” The lawyer choked, eyes burning with anger. “You’re disrupting the funeral and disturbing the Duke’s peace, and you accuse me?” Chloe scoffed and ignored him. She looked up and saw me going upstairs with the housekeeper. She seemed to realize something. She rushed over to block me, hissing through her teeth: “So that’s it! You got all these people to stop me from crying!” “You’re afraid I’ll shine in front of Prince Charles!” I smirked, mocking her. “You look like a cat in heat. Do you think anyone wants to see you howling?” Chloe shook with rage. Her eyes darted around, and she deliberately twisted her ankle, tumbling down the stairs. Landing on her butt, she started wailing loudly, using every trick in the book. “What did I do wrong? Why do you treat me like this, Sis?” The guests’ eyes turned cold. Great. Crying wasn’t enough; now she’s playing the victim! “Are you that jealous? You had to push her here? You’ve embarrassed the Luo family!” Ryan rushed over, cursing me. Not satisfied, he slapped me hard. “Prince Charles is almost here, and you’re causing drama!” “Get out! Now!” My mother-in-law and Chloe lunged at me, dragging me towards the door. My arm hurt from their grip. “Stop!” A low shout froze everyone. The crowd parted, and the only sound was leather shoes on the floor. A man wearing a royal crest walked out. His aura silenced the room. “You violated the taboo of wailing at the altar, and now you’re using violence? I don’t think you need this inheritance.” 5 Chloe and Ryan went pale. How did they run into Prince Charles while dragging me out? Ryan panicked and stammered: “Prince Charles, you misunderstand! This woman is making a scene. We’re helping maintain order!” Prince Charles scoffed, pointing at the door. “Do you think we’re blind? You’re the ones wailing and disrupting the funeral!” “Maintain order? The ones who should leave are you mannerless people!” Not expecting such a harsh rebuke, Ryan’s face changed colors. Chloe sat on the floor, holding her ankle, tears flowing instantly. “Prince Charles, look! She pushed me! My ankle is sprained!” “She bullies me like this, and you protect her?” She thought her pitiful act would soften his heart. But Prince Charles looked at her like she was a clown. “Finished crying? Go cry outside! Our funerals do not allow wailing!” Humiliated, Chloe’s face burned. She turned to me, pointing a shaking finger. “It’s you! You’re behind this!” “You’re amazing, huh? Getting to the servers and the Prince, spreading rumors about me beforehand!” I glanced at her coldly. “I don’t have that kind of influence. You flatter me.” “You didn’t listen to advice, caused trouble, and now you blame others!” Prince Charles shouted angrily: “Silence! You were the ones wailing, you were the ones dragging her!” “Twisting the truth here? Do you think everyone is stupid?” Seeing the Prince’s dark face, Chloe panicked. “Prince Charles, we’re from another country. We didn’t know the custom forbids crying!” The noblewoman from earlier spoke up disdainfully. “Stop pretending! I just told you, and you called me cold-blooded!” “The priest warned you too, and you said he didn’t understand God’s mercy.” The lawyer stepped forward angrily. “I advised you nicely, and you accused me of trying to steal the inheritance!” “I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” Seeing everyone turning against them, I spoke up. “I told you before we came that British nobles don’t allow wailing.” “But one of you was busy chasing men, the other climbing the social ladder. Who listened?” “Now that you’re in trouble, you blame me? Have some shame!” Chloe’s eyes flashed with calculation. She started lying loudly. “Sis! You told me to cry! You said it would make people like me and help me meet nobles!” “You said ignore anyone who tries to stop me!” “Now that people are mad, you blame me? What is your problem?!” Ryan immediately backed her up. “Yes! It was all Nancy’s idea! She said she knew noble customs best!” “She told us to cry hard, said it showed respect!” My mother-in-law joined in, spitting at me. “Exactly! Don’t be fooled by her innocent look!” “It was all her idea! Punish her! It has nothing to do with my son and daughter!” I looked at this family with disgust, wishing I could slap myself. I was blind to choose this man and this rotten family! Before I could speak, Prince Charles slammed his hand on the table. “I just rescued this lady from your car! She was half dead!” “You bullied her, and now you frame her?” “Do you think I’m blind or stupid?”

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During finals week, my crush happened to sit across from me. On the surface, I was studying. Internally, I was screaming “Hubby.” [Hubby’s Adam’s apple is so big, I wanna kiss it. Speaking of big, I wonder if Hubby’s…] [Gray sweatpants really do show everything!] [Ugh, studying is torture. I just want Hubby to punish me.] What I didn’t know was that my aloof crush could hear every thought. 1 College finals week. In the library. My brain was fried from cramming. Open book— [Napoleon and Josephine.] Close book— [Napoleon married Josephine?] [Wait, wasn’t Josephine also involved with someone else? Imagine the drama back then. History is basically a soap opera.] [Ahhh, I’m going crazy! This is why I didn’t study for the first sixteen weeks, isn’t it? Too much celebrity gossip! Ugh, brain, memorize this! I really don’t want to fail!] [College wins. I didn’t even care this much about the SATs, but college finals are mandatory passing? Someone set me up.] “Tsk, who is that? Can you shut up?” Sitting opposite me, the campus heartthrob, Paxton, slammed his book on the table. He stood up slowly, frowning as he scanned the room coldly. The other students were instantly silenced, too scared to even breathe. After all, the Pei family donated five lab buildings to the school. No one messed with the eldest son of the Pei family. Being closest to him, my mind went blank for a second. [Huh? Was someone talking and disturbing Hubby? Why didn’t I hear it? Did my mental reciting bother him?] [But I was reciting in my head! I didn’t make a sound!] [Forget it, maybe I flipped the pages too loudly and annoyed Hubby’s eyes. I should move. It would be a disaster if Hubby hated me.] While thinking this, I packed my books into my bag and stood up to leave. Paxton narrowed his long, handsome eyes, glanced down at me, a flicker of darkness passing through his gaze. “Sorry, miss. I must be hallucinating from stress. Didn’t scare you, did I?” He called out to stop me. 2 I froze, shaking my head slightly. I lowered my head, face burning, not daring to speak to him, only sneaking glances. Inside, I was fangirling hard: [Ahhh! Hubby talked to me first!] [Guess Hubby wasn’t talking about me. No need to move, yay!] [Hubby looks even hotter when he’s angry (＾－＾)! Must look more while I can! Profit! Hehe.] [Good thing it’s hot today. Hubby is wearing a thin white shirt. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, huge Adam’s apple—all on display. Drool. Hubby’s Adam’s apple is so big, I wanna kiss it.] [By the way, speaking of big, I wonder if Hubby’s…] My gaze drifted downward. Paxton’s tall, lean body suddenly stiffened. A flush spread from his handsome cheeks to his ears. He grabbed the black windbreaker from the back of his chair, put it on quickly, and zipped it all the way up, covering exactly what I wanted to see, before sitting back down. Seeing this, I quickly sat down too. Afraid someone else would take the seat if I was a second late. After all, the line of girls chasing Paxton stretched from school to his villa. Don’t know what luck I had today. There were plenty of empty seats when he came in, but he chose the one opposite me. Lucky day! His roommate sitting next to him whispered: “Pax, aren’t you afraid of heatstroke bundling up like that?” Paxton stared absently at his textbook, his peripheral vision drifting towards me. His thin lips pressed into a line as he replied coolly: “Mm, AC is too cold.” My mood instantly plummeted. Mechanically taking out my books, I pretended to study while zoning out: [Boohoo, heard men are afraid of cold because of kidney deficiency. Such a pity for Hubby’s god-tier face if he’s useless.] [Wait, Hubby’s roommate is on the basketball team too. Not as hot as Hubby, but at least functional. Should I switch husbands?] [So many hot guys in the world, if this one fails, I’ll switch. As long as the new one is good enough, I’ll forget the old one~] With some regret, my gaze shifted from Paxton to his roommate. [Damn, we college girls need to look at jock pecs to survive finals week.] But before I could appreciate the view. Zip. Paxton unzipped his jacket quickly, taking it off as if urgently trying to stop something. 3 My eyes were drawn back to him. Maybe because of the heat, his pale face was now flushed like he was drunk. At the same time, his long fingers undid the buttons of his white shirt, one by one. “Eh? Pax, weren’t you cold? Why take off the jacket? And unbuttoning?” His roommate looked at him weirdly. “Honestly, you look like you’re stripping…” Paxton lifted his eyelids lazily, glancing at me imperceptibly. His lips curved slightly as he interrupted: “Felt hot with the jacket on.” A breeze blew from the window. “Achoo.” The roommate sneezed unexpectedly. “Then lend me the jacket, I’m suddenly cold.” Paxton unbuttoned slowly with one hand, throwing the jacket to him with the other, sneering: “So afraid of cold… kidney deficiency?” “Screw you.” The roommate put on the jacket and punched him. Paxton unbuttoned three buttons before stopping. Then, he picked up his pen casually and started working. But when he leaned forward, his broad, pale chest was exposed right in front of me. Below the sharp collarbones were firm, looming pecs. Combined with that alpha face, it was so hot I couldn’t look away. This face, this body, definitely better than any top idol! My heart pounded, hand trembling as I held my pen, swallowing saliva uncontrollably: [Boohoo, wanna touch Hubby’s pecs, wanna make Hubby eat me out.] [Wait, if I drop my pen on purpose and bend down to pick it up, I can peek at Hubby’s…] [No, no, isn’t that too obvious? If Hubby catches me, he’ll hate me. But I really wanna see…] Just as I was thinking this. Paxton’s hand shook, and the pen in his hand fell to the floor, rolling right to my feet. [Ahhh! God! Am I your favorite granddaughter?! You spoil me too much!] Next instant, Paxton slowly looked up at me, his eyes dark: “Um, miss, could you pick up my pen for me? Thanks.” For some reason, his usually cold, noble voice sounded inexplicably husky and deep. “O-okay.” I nodded blankly, brain fried by his beauty. Trying hard to suppress a grin, I pretended to be expressionless, bent down slowly, reached for the pen, but my eyes naughtily drifted towards a certain place. [Gray sweatpants really do show everything.] [Boohoo, finals are so hard, I’m breaking down, I want Hubby to punish me.] “Pax, I’m going to the bathroom, you coming?” The roommate nudged the upright Paxton. Paxton’s handsome lips curved up almost imperceptibly: “No, it’s… inconvenient for me to get up right now.” “Fine, I’ll go myself.” Low voices came from above the table. I snapped back to reality, grabbed the pen quickly, sat up blushing, and handed the pen to Paxton guiltily. “H-here, y-your pen.” “Mm, thanks.” Paxton reached out slowly. My hand shook, accidentally touching his cool fingertips. [I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead. What luck today, I touched Hubby’s hand!!!] [AHHHHH!!!] Dizzied, warm blood flowed from my nose unbidden. I reached out to wipe it blankly. But the more I wiped, the more it flowed. Paxton grabbed the tissue box, pulled out a few sheets, and handed them to me. “Miss, are you under too much pressure from finals?” His slightly aggressive gaze fixed on me, Adam’s apple rolling: “Do you need me to… help you relieve some stress?” Re-relieve? G-God, what kind of dirty talk is this?! I was so shocked my nosebleed stopped. Meanwhile, Paxton slipped a black-gold card into my hand, voice husky and low, carrying a hint of danger: “Miss, if you need anything, find me anytime.” Before I could react, he packed up and left without looking back. I looked down. The black-gold card was a key card for the five-star hotel near campus! My face burned instantly. Wait, does he mean what I think he means? Who started the rumor that he was abstinent?! Some people even guessed he was gay because he rejected the school beauty on the first day. Didn’t expect Paxton, who looked like a gentleman, to be so wild… The library closing bell rang abruptly. Startled, I looked up at the clock. Just past nine. What? Why is the library closing two hours early today? No time to think, I packed up messily and left. 4 Following the room number on the card, I took the hotel elevator nervously. Even my toes could guess what would happen tonight. I clutched the box of ultra-thin 0.01 XL condoms I just bought, heart racing. Wonder if this box is enough? Seven times a night… Can I handle that? Lost in thought. Before I knew it, I was at the door of the presidential suite at the end of the top floor hallway. Faint sound of running water came from inside. Paxton is showering?! Heart pounding deafeningly, I told myself to stay calm. But when swiping the card, my hand shook so much it wouldn’t open. Deep breath, ready to try again. Click. The heavy mahogany door was pulled open by a large hand. Fresh mint soap scent mixed with clear male hormones hit my face. I looked up blankly. Paxton stood there in a very open white bathrobe, leaning lazily against the cabinet. The belt was loosely tied around his lean waist. His massive pecs rose and fell slowly with his breath, making me dizzy. He looked down at me casually, grabbed a water bottle, and drank. Water droplets fell from his hair, sliding down his rolling Adam’s apple, over his defined pecs, abs, v-line, all the way down… I gulped, feet nailed to the floor. “What? Not coming in? Standing guard?” Paxton stared at me with a half-smile. I snapped back. My brain, dazed by beauty, cleared up a bit. Thinking about what comes next. I suddenly felt cowardly. Subconsciously turned to run. Us college girls are like this. Talk big game about guys, making everything sound dirty. In reality, lives as bland as water, living like nuns, zero combat experience. A pair of hot hands grabbed my wrists from behind. Turned around. Bang. Paxton slammed the door shut. One hand on the door, the other loosely around my waist: “Trying to run? Too late.” Tone flirty and mean, eyes full of aggression. I looked up at him in disbelief. Wait, isn’t the legendary ice prince supposed to be restrained? Why so wild?! “W-what do you want?” “Late at night, alone together…” He chuckled, leaning in, deep eyes locking onto my face: “What do you think I want?” Too close. His hot breath drowned me, cold mint scent overwhelming me. I stopped breathing, body stiff as ice. Paxton smirked, lifted me with one arm, and strode towards the large round table in the suite. “On, on the table? I-isn’t that bad?” My face burned. Accidentally said my thoughts out loud. He turned to look at me, his dark eyes scary hot: “Where else?” “The bed?” Choked by his bluntness, I looked away in panic. Paxton put me on a chair, opened my… backpack, and placed my textbooks on the table one by one, neatly. I looked at him confused, thoughts flying wild: [What? Why take out textbooks?] [Is this some kinky roleplay? Teacher-student play?] [As expected of him, plays hard.] [How do I cooperate?] [Boohoo, Mr. Pei, no, don’t, gentle, slow down, please Mr. Pei~] [Wow, so shameful, so exciting, I like it.] While fantasizing. A pen was shoved into my hand. Paxton pulled out a chair, sat next to me, and opened the calculus textbook slowly with his long fingers: “Miss Ning, which problem can’t you solve? Come, Mr. Pei will teach you.” Tone serious. Fantasy shattered. Wait? This kind of teacher-student play? I looked up at him in disbelief: “Y-you said relieve stress, you meant teaching me calculus?” He blinked his peach blossom eyes, looking innocent: “Yeah, what else?” “If you learn it and aren’t scared of the final, no stress, right?” Did I really think wrong? Still unwilling to give up, I questioned him logically: “Wait? Can’t teach calculus in the library?! W-why bring me to a hotel room?! A-and dressed like this?! Who teaches calculus dressed like this?!” “Library would disturb others. Just showered, what else would I wear but a bathrobe?” Paxton flicked my forehead, tone helpless: “Miss Ning, I must remind you, if you keep thinking about nonsense and don’t study, you’ll really fail.” Heh, couldn’t tell. The usually selfish Young Master Pei is quite considerate. Actually caring if I, a stranger classmate, pass calculus?! Who understands the redemption of crush turning into calculus teacher? I don’t. Calculus! Go to hell!

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The moment my foster family decided to spend a billion dollars on a knock-off Ming Dynasty tiara for Savannah, I didn’t just stand back. I signed over every dollar of the company’s liquid capital to support the purchase. In my first life, when the “real heiress” Savannah Stone attended this auction, she had been determined to make a No-Limit Bid for this same antique jewelry set. I had recognized the malicious inflation of the price and stepped in immediately, desperate to protect her. I told her the piece was a cheap replica and that I could buy her something genuinely exquisite. Savannah had taken my concern as a deliberate, humiliating lecture on her lack of taste. She ran out of the venue in a rage and was killed instantly by a car. My foster parents, Richard and Veronica Stone, and my fiancé, Preston Shaw, had held me and consoled me. It was just bad luck. It wasn’t my fault. Later, I spearheaded the Stone & Co. IPO, turning Richard and Veronica into the area’s most powerful moguls. On the day of my wedding, they and Preston kidnapped me and threw me onto a train track. My final, desperate question: Why? Their final answer, as they kicked my body toward the oncoming locomotive: “If you hadn’t deliberately humiliated Savvy that day, she wouldn’t have died. This is what you owe her.” The train crushed me. I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day of Savannah’s reckless No-Limit Bid. 1 “I’m bidding thirty million for this tiara, and I dare any of you to try and beat me.” Hearing the familiar, entitled pitch in Savannah’s voice, I looked around the opulent auction hall. The realization hit me like a physical punch. I had been reborn. “An auction is determined by the highest bidder, Savannah. Why can’t we try?” A mocking voice cut through the air. “You’ve only been back with the Stones for a month. Do you even have that kind of money? Maybe give up now.” “Fifty million. I’ve decided I want this headdress.” A wealthy socialite peered down her nose at Savannah, baiting her. Savannah’s face flushed scarlet. She surged to her feet and made the dramatic, recognized gesture of a No-Limit Bid—a declaration that she would pay any price to win. The whole room erupted into a murmur of shock and excitement. Veronica, my foster mother, tugged at Savannah’s arm, trying to look concerned. “Savvy, darling, don’t be impulsive. There are plenty of other pieces. Maybe you’ll like something else more.” Then, Veronica’s hand came down hard on my arm. “Anya Reed, are you mute? Say something! Don’t you know you should be talking sense into your sister?” The memory of the last life—of that same slap, that same condemnation—flashed in my mind. Last time, I had seen the malicious intent and the cheap replica. I had begged Savannah to stop, only to have her assume I was attacking her taste. She died. The Stones and Preston had comforted me, only to later kill me for my perceived sin. I remembered the agonizing crush of the train, the bone-deep hatred. My fists clenched, then slowly relaxed. I turned to Savannah and offered a small, cold smile. “Mom, Dad,” I said smoothly. “You’re the ones who said you wanted to compensate Savannah. You brought her here to treat her. She’s finally found something she loves. Why should we stop her?” Richard and Veronica’s faces froze in a sudden, awkward silence. “Savvy, a No-Limit Bid isn’t something you just throw around,” Veronica stammered, panicking slightly. “Let Mom buy you something else, alright?” Savannah pouted, tears welling up in a practiced, pathetic display. “Mom, it’s not for me. It’s a birthday gift for Mrs. Lewis, the head of Lewis Global.” Richard and Veronica’s eyes widened immediately. “Savvy, you… you know Vivian Lewis?” Savannah shot a triumphant, contemptuous look my way before answering. “I got an invitation to Mrs. Lewis’s birthday gala yesterday. I heard she absolutely adores this particular Ming Dynasty design. I want to give it to her to cement our relationship with the Lewis family.” Richard clapped Savannah on the shoulder, his eyes alight with avarice. “Savvy, I had no idea you had an in with Lewis Global! If they give us even a few projects, Stone & Co. will go stratospheric. Savvy, your father supports you. Make that No-Limit Bid!” Savannah’s voice had been loud, deliberately so. When word spread that Stone & Co. was trying to cozy up to Lewis Global, their corporate rivals reacted instantly. They couldn’t let the Stones gain such a massive, unassailable advantage. The price shot up. Thirty million. Fifty million. One hundred million dollars. Watching Savannah keep bidding, a cold laugh bubbled in my throat. She was already a fool for planning to spend over $100 million on a fake to impress Mrs. Lewis. But broadcasting her intentions to the entire hall? She was practically inviting every enemy Stone & Co. had to bid against her, just to deny her the connection. She was terrified of spending too little. Four or five rival companies vying for the same IPO slot as the Stones couldn’t allow them to leapfrog ahead. The bidding quickly crested the $500 million mark, with only one other competitor still holding out. An auction attendant approached the Stones’ table. “Ms. Stone, your collateral deposit has reached its limit. To continue, the deposit must be increased. Should you forfeit the bid now, you will be liable for a ten percent breach-of-contract penalty.” Savannah’s brow furrowed. “Why would I have to pay a penalty for quitting?” The attendant remained polite. “It’s the rule of the No-Limit Bid. Regardless of the price, you are obligated to purchase the item. If your funds are insufficient and you forfeit, you pay a ten percent fine on the highest bid.” Panic finally registered on Richard and Veronica’s faces. “Our total savings are five hundred million dollars at most. What are we going to do?” Richard turned to me, his voice sharp. “Anya Reed! How much money do you have left? Hand it all over to your sister now.” I blinked, feigning surprise. “Oh, I had a little incident earlier. I accidentally triggered a security lock on my main accounts. They won’t unlock for a week. We’ll just have to forfeit, I guess. We’d only be out fifty million dollars.” I held up my phone, showing them a screen displaying a generic ‘Account Frozen’ message. Savannah’s eyes turned glassy. She abruptly knelt down in front of me. “Sister, you don’t have to like me, but this tiara is the key to Lewis Global for our family. It affects the entire future of Stone & Co. Please, please help me, just this once?” Seeing Savannah on her knees, Veronica completely lost it. She raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap directly across my face. “Anya Reed, you heartless snake! You know your sister made a No-Limit Bid, and you deliberately froze your own accounts? I order you to cough up the five hundred million dollars immediately, or you are out of this house and out of the company!” Preston Shaw, my fiancé, stared at me with unconcealed disgust. “Anya, you utterly disappoint me. You usurped Savannah’s life, living in luxury for years, and now that she’s finally home, you still try to sabotage her? You are a completely ungrateful viper.” Preston’s loud accusation instantly drew all the attention in the immediate area. Everyone stared at me with strange, judgmental looks. I was suddenly the wicked step-sister, the ungrateful foster child, the vulture who wouldn’t sacrifice five hundred million. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Five hundred million? I don’t have it in my personal accounts,” I admitted. “But there is another way.” Savannah, thinking I had yielded, looked up at me with open condescension. “Then if you have a way, Sister, hurry up and use it! Don’t waste everyone’s time.” Preston glared at me. “Anya, you need to learn from Savannah. Your character makes you unworthy of being my wife. If only Savannah hadn’t been lost all those years ago…” I cut him off, my voice steady. “Don’t feel sad. I’ll make it easy for you.” I reached into my bag and produced two sets of legal documents that I had prepared earlier—the severance papers, formally dissolving my ties to the Stones. I handed them to my foster parents. “Sign these two agreements, and I’ll tell you the solution for the other five hundred million.” Richard and Veronica stared, momentarily stunned. “Anya Reed, you want to cut ties with us? Have you lost your mind?” I smiled, a cold, empty expression aimed only at them. “A month ago, when Savannah returned, you pressured me to change my surname to make her feel secure. That was the moment you declared yourselves a complete family. I’m simply making my exit. From now on, I have no connection to the Stone family.” Richard and Veronica launched into a tirade, calling me ungrateful, ruthless, and saying they wasted twenty years raising me. Savannah, teary and pitiful, spoke up. “Sister, please. Every mistake is mine. Don’t be angry with Mom and Dad. If you hate me so much, I’ll leave the house immediately. I won’t bother you anymore.” Veronica pulled Savannah into a tight embrace. “Savvy, you are my own blood daughter! You are not the one who needs to leave.” Seeing Savannah’s manipulative vulnerability, Richard, who had been wavering, snatched the severance papers from my hand. He and Veronica signed them both, one after the other. “Anya Reed, you are going to regret this day,” Richard hissed. Ignoring him, I pulled out a separate corporate bank card and passed it over. “This card has the five hundred million. It’s the total liquid capital for all of Stone & Co.’s ongoing projects. Use it, and the company’s financial chain will break. The method is yours. Whether you use it or not is your business.” Richard had a flicker of sanity left. “No! Breaking the financial chain puts the company at massive risk!” Savannah snatched the card before he could finish. “Dad, it’s only temporary! With Lewis Global’s support, the IPO will be a cinch!” She shoved the card into the attendant’s hand. “I bid one billion dollars! This tiara is mine.” At the doubled price, the other bidder withdrew immediately. The auctioneer slammed the gavel three times, declaring Savannah the winner. The attendant delivered the headdress. Savannah looked at me, her eyes brimming with victorious malice. “Sister, to facilitate our upcoming partnership with Lewis Global, I’m going to take over as CEO. You can be my personal secretary and assist me.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She spent a billion on a fake tiara and thought it was enough to usurp my entire life’s work. Preston grabbed my arm, annoyed. “Anya Reed, as Savannah’s secretary, you need to take care of her. She hates onions and cilantro in her food. Her clothes must be hand-washed. You need to organize her daily schedule by 5 AM. And try not to bother her with business you can handle yourself.” I rolled my eyes, utterly exasperated. “I’m a secretary? Sounds more like I’m supposed to be her mother.” Preston’s face hardened. “Anya, don’t tell me you’re jealous of the CEO title? Don’t forget, Savannah is the real Stone heiress. You’ve been squatting here for years. Are you going to keep monopolizing the company?” I scoffed. “I resign. I’m walking away from the company. From this moment forward, Stone & Co. and the Stone family are irrelevant to me.” Savannah’s eyes lit up. “Sister, the company is about to go public! Are you really going to quit?” I curved my lips into a thin smile. “I’ll be watching your IPO. With great interest.” Preston glowered, warning me. “Anya Reed, don’t try to play hard to get. You’ll regret this.” I finally lost my composure. “Play your mother’s head,” I snapped. Preston shot to his feet, ready to argue, but a sudden commotion broke out in the room. “Mrs. Lewis is here!” “Vivian Lewis looks like she’s looking for someone.” My phone vibrated with a text message. “Darling, I heard you were at the auction. I’m passing by, I’ll pick you up. —Mom.” The Stones still had no idea I had reunited with my biological mother, Vivian Lewis, a year ago. Vivian spotted me and started walking toward me. As I stood up, Savannah suddenly lunged. She violently shoved me, sending me tumbling over the few stairs and crashing hard onto the floor. Savannah rushed past me toward my mother. “Mrs. Lewis, hello! I’m Savannah Stone.” Vivian Lewis’s expression was cold. She stopped and gave Savannah a sharp, head-to-toe appraisal. The next second, Vivian raised her hand and delivered a stunning, loud slap to Savannah’s face. She then roughly pushed Savannah aside and hurried toward me. “Savannah, is this the kind of manners the Stone family taught you? Laying hands on people?” Vivian helped me up from the floor. Preston rushed to Savannah’s side, his eyes full of anguish for the ‘victim.’ “Mrs. Lewis, there must be a misunderstanding! Savannah isn’t like that. Anya Reed is always causing trouble. You should know, Anya is conniving, shallow, and—” Vivian spun around, fixing him with a look so icy it stopped Preston’s tirade mid-sentence. Richard and Veronica also rushed over. They glanced at Savannah, then Richard’s hand shot out, slapping me across the face. “Anya Reed, you ungrateful wretch! You stole Savannah’s life for so long, and now that she’s home, you still sabotage her and try to slander her? Have you no shame at all?” Vivian Lewis’s face went crimson with pure, hot rage. “Are you blind? Savannah clearly shoved Anya! And you stand there and completely twist the truth and abuse my daughter? Is this how you’ve been bullying my child all these years?”

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My wife, a renowned medical expert, was celebrating her childhood sweetheart’s birthday—a lavish cruise along the New England coast—the night our son was food poisoned. In a past life, I had forced her to come home to save him. Her ‘sweetheart,’ Lincoln Reed, went out on his yacht alone, got drunk, and drowned. She didn’t blame me immediately. We remained a loving couple, at least on the surface. She just put a slow-acting poison in my dinner and watched me die, my internal organs failing. Her eyes were raw, scarlet with pure hatred. “Do you know how much Lincoln suffered down there, Rhys?” she had hissed. “Now, you try the taste of death.” I woke up again on that very night, the night Owen was poisoned. This time, I didn’t make her come home. When she finally saw his little body, she went mad. 1 “Mr. Sullivan, it’s terrible! Little Owen ate something bad. He’s throwing up violently, he has awful diarrhea, and now he’s unconscious!” Owen’s nanny, Martha, burst into my study, distraught and weeping. I clenched my fists. I was back. Owen was alive, the night hadn’t fully descended, and there was still time. Owen wasn’t my biological son; he was the posthumous child of my wife, Delaney Shaw’s, older brother. Her sister-in-law died from postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth. I felt compassion for a boy born without parents and agreed with Delaney to adopt him. We both treated him like our own son. Hearing he was poisoned, I shot up. “Call Dr. Lewis immediately for a detox protocol. Prep the car. I’ll go get Delaney myself.” Delaney was the head of the Emergency Department at Seattle General, a specialist in toxicology and detox. She had warned me repeatedly that her work phone was off during her shift, and I was absolutely forbidden from calling or disturbing her work. I knew tonight was Lincoln’s birthday party—an elaborate cruise on the Sound she’d promised to attend. If I dragged her away, I’d ruin her ‘fun.’ But if I didn’t tell her, she would hold it against me forever. My car stopped abruptly outside the hospital entrance just as Delaney walked out, ending her shift. She frowned, seeing me rush out of the car, my face etched with urgency. “I told you I wasn’t coming home tonight, Rhys. It’s Lincoln’s birthday, and I promised to go out on the yacht. Don’t tell me you forgot.” Her voice was tight with annoyance. Parked beside the curb was a sleek, black Range Rover. I didn’t need to ask; it was Lincoln Reed’s car, waiting for her. Lincoln was Delaney’s childhood sweetheart. Years ago, his family had scorned Delaney—a mere junior doctor with no visible prospects—and forced him to marry the daughter of a tech billionaire. Tragically, his wife died in an accident a year later, and Lincoln, the ‘Golden Boy,’ returned to Seattle. Delaney immediately began making frequent trips to his sprawling estate. “Lincoln is back, and he has severe depression,” she’d tell me. “I’m a doctor; I’m just going to check on him, prescribe some medication. He’ll be fine soon.” “Why are you always so paranoid? I was just helping Lincoln as his doctor. I stayed one night at his house. Why do you make such a big deal out of everything?” she’d snapped at me. “If I wanted to be with Lincoln, I would have married him. Why would I have married you?” In her eyes, I was the villain, the obstacle to her and Lincoln. In the last life, I had countless fights with Delaney over him. This time, I didn’t care about our marriage. I stood squarely in front of her, meeting her eyes. “Delaney, it’s Owen. He was poisoned. He ate those artisanal treats Lincoln sent over yesterday. He’s been vomiting and seizing. Our doctor fears it’s a severe toxin and needs you to come look at him. He’s so small, he can’t handle this.” Delaney looked at me with pure disbelief. “Rhys Sullivan, are you insane? You’re making up a story about our son being poisoned just to stop me from going out with Lincoln? Because I have a specialty in toxicology, you think this is a clever lie?” “How could you be so cruel? How dare you pretend to be his father.”

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Mom has a best friend who, to this day, has never married. I once naively asked my mother, “Why doesn’t Aunt Brenda ever get married?” Mom smiled, booping my little nose. “Because your Aunt Brenda has incredibly high standards. She doesn’t think anyone is good enough.” I casually replied, “I wonder who could possibly meet such high standards?” I didn’t get it until one day, while I was out shopping with friends. I watched Aunt Brenda, looking all dramatic and fragile, holding hands with a man as they walked into a boutique hotel. That’s when it hit me. “So, her standards are so high because she had her eyes on my dad.” 1 That night, I was lounging on the couch playing Candy Crush on my mom’s phone. A text message flashed across the top of the screen: “Accidentally got some lipstick on your hubby’s collar. Make sure to wash it.” “Mom! Why isn’t Dad home yet?” “Let’s just lock the deadbolt and leave him outside!” I shouted toward the kitchen while swiping left to delete the message. “Chloe! Watch your mouth,” Mom called back, spatula in hand. “How can you lock your father out? You little ingrate.” “Your father works himself to death to make money for you!” Looking at my mom—defending the man who was currently betraying her—I shook my head helplessly. “Yeah, yeah. Your husband is the hardest worker.” “Best man in the world. Thanks for finding me such a great dad.” “That’s more like it.” Mom looked satisfied and marched back to her battlefield in the kitchen. I looked at her. She was nearly forty but still had the innocence of a teenage girl. I sighed. How could someone this pure ever compete with a white lotus like Brenda? Just as I was about to lose my temper for the third time, the front door opened. “Honey! You’re finally back! It’s our baby girl’s twentieth birthday!” “If you were any later, she was going to tear the house down!” Mom practically skipped to the door, taking his briefcase and pouting like a newlywed. Dad chuckled, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and walked over to me. “Oh no, is our Princess upset? What are we going to do?” “Blame Daddy. If I hadn’t flown to LA to pick up your gift personally, I wouldn’t be late.” “Look at that pout. You could hang a coat hanger on it.” I narrowed my eyes at him. It wasn’t until he pulled the keys to a Mercedes G-Wagon out of his pocket that I let out a dry laugh. “Truly a model father and husband.” Even when he goes out to buy his daughter a gift, he doesn’t forget to take his side-piece along for the ride. The internet is right: When men cheat, they become master time managers. Dad beamed, thinking I was genuinely praising him. “Come on, let’s eat. Let’s celebrate my daughter entering her twenties.” At the dinner table, I raised my glass. I stared at his crisp, white collar. When I leaned in, I could smell the faint scent of hotel shower gel. So he went back to the hotel after landing? That’s why he was late. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Then, the doorbell rang. “Oh! That must be your Aunt Brenda.” Mom tapped her forehead. “I almost forgot.” Mom rushed to the foyer and opened the door. “Hey bestie! Long time no see!” Brenda hugged my mom enthusiastically, just like always. But her eyes were darting back and forth between me and my dad. Dad brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat awkwardly. The food tasted like wax in my mouth. “Chloe is getting prettier every day,” Brenda cooed. “Really growing into a woman.” I looked at this woman—smiling with fake kindness—and the corners of my mouth turned down. “Chloe, what’s wrong with you? Aunt Brenda is talking to you. Where are your manners?” My disgust must have been too obvious because Mom shot me a warning look. 2 Ever since I saw Dad and Brenda walking into that hotel, I couldn’t unsee it. Every time I saw them in the same room, my brain involuntarily conjured up images of them rolling around in bed sheets. I literally gagged. “Chloe? Chloe, are you okay?” I was hugging the trash can, dry heaving. Mom looked terrified. She patted my back gently. “Did you eat something weird outside again?” She immediately poured me a glass of my favorite watermelon juice. Looking at my mom’s worried face, I felt a lump in my throat. I glanced over at the two of them exchanging looks. I clenched my fists under the table. Mom and I are right here, and they’re still making eyes at each other? Do they have no respect for us? I almost screamed, “Mom, divorce him! Dad is cheating on you! Your best friend is a snake!” But I stopped myself a second before the words left my mouth. Exposing them now would be too easy. Too cheap. “Dad,” I said, composing myself. “Remember you promised that once I started college, you’d buy me a condo near campus?” “I want to move out. It’ll be easier for when I start prepping for grad school.” “After all, I’m your only daughter. I have to inherit the company one day, right?” Dad nodded happily. “Of course, of course. If my daughter wants to study hard, I support it 100%.” “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to look at condos.” Mom smiled, looking proud of my ambition. But my eyes were locked on Brenda. Sure enough, as soon as she heard “buy a condo,” her face turned green. Hah. People would think she’s the one paying for it. She gritted her teeth but forced a smile. “Richard…” “You just bought Chloe a G-Wagon. You shouldn’t spoil children like this.” “What if she gets entitled?” Mom’s expression shifted slightly. Before she could speak, I cut in. “Listen to Aunt Brenda,” I said sarcastically. “Making me sound like a delinquent.” “I’m their only child. If they don’t spend money on me, who should they spend it on?” “I was Valedictorian. I’m trying to level up so I can help Dad run the business sooner so he can retire.” “What? Does Aunt Brenda disagree with my parents buying me things?” “Strangers might think you’re the lady of the house.” The faces of the three adults changed instantly. Dad turned red. Mom gave Brenda a complicated look. Brenda, feeling the heat, went pale. She waved her hands frantically. “No, no, Chloe, you misunderstood.” “I watched you grow up. How could I not want your dad to buy you things?” “I was just worried you’d be stressed living alone. You’re young; you should enjoy life.” I sneered at her clumsy attempt to backpedal. 3 The atmosphere, once lively, was now suffocatingly awkward. For the rest of the meal, Brenda kept her head down and didn’t say a word. Dad, clearly annoyed by the tension, stopped joking around with her. I, on the other hand, felt fantastic watching them suffer. Halfway through the meal, I dropped my chopstick. As I bent down to pick it up, my eyes went wide. I saw Brenda slip her foot out of her heel and rub it against my dad’s calf. Rage shot through me. I wound up my leg and kicked her high heel as hard as I could, sending it sliding across the floor. Brenda felt her shoe vanish and panicked. Dad looked at me, terrified. Luckily, Mom was in the kitchen getting soup. When she walked back in, she didn’t see the shoe… until she tripped over it. “Ouch! Why is there a shoe here?” Mom looked down at the black stiletto in confusion. “Brenda… I told you. You can wear slippers in the house.” “I don’t get why you wear heels all day. Doesn’t it hurt?” Mom picked up the shoe and walked it over to Brenda. “Here! Don’t leave them lying around. Someone could get hurt.” I have never seen a human being turn red that fast. Brenda muttered a weak “Sorry” and glanced at me fearfully. I raised an eyebrow and smirked. That was probably the most indigestion she’s ever had at a dinner. The next morning, I dragged Dad out to buy a luxury condo right across from my university. Fully furnished. Ready to move in. Maybe it was the guilt from last night. While Mom was signing the paperwork, Dad pulled me aside. “Chloe… last night… your Aunt Brenda accidentally bumped into me.” “Don’t tell your mother. You know how she gets.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. Accidentally? Do you think I’m three? Before I could roast him, he pulled out a black credit card. “Here. You’ve been working hard. Treat yourself.” “Don’t be afraid to spend it. I make money so my two girls can spend it.” Adopting the philosophy of “take what you can get,” I snatched the card. I immediately posted a photo on Instagram: Thanks Daddy for building the empire for his past-life lover. You keep grinding, I’ll keep spending. Forever your little princess. That night, I heard Dad call Mom saying he had to work late. I scoffed. Honestly, at this point… I hated the mistress, but I hated my shameless father even more. One was my Mom’s “sister,” the other was her “soulmate.” And they were stabbing her in the back simultaneously. Mom hung up and tried calling Brenda. But surprise, surprise—no answer. “Chloe, do you think your Aunt Brenda is dating someone?” “I can’t reach her. Last week I saw a hickey on her neck.” “Hmph! She’s not a real friend. Keeping secrets from me.” I rubbed my temples, looking at my mom pouting on the sofa. 4 My mom has been pampered her whole life. She’s forty going on fourteen. Dad was a scholarship kid from a rural town. If he hadn’t met Mom, he’d probably be digging ditches. Grandma and Grandpa had foresight, though. All the family assets are in Mom’s name. They signed a prenup: If Dad cheats, he leaves with nothing. But over the years, the company grew. Dad ran the operations. Nobody knows how much money the company actually makes now. Nobody knows how much Dad has stashed away in offshore accounts. I have to take my time. One wrong move, and we lose the leverage. For the next few days, I used my “internship” as an excuse to haunt the office. I saw Brenda picking him up and dropping him off constantly. Finally, I caught them in the parking garage. “Wow, Aunt Brenda! You have so much free time,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did you apply to be Dad’s chauffeur?” “Dad kept this quiet. I need to tell Mom what a great friend you are.” I had spent the last few days digging into the company financials. Dad was cooking the books. Massive tax evasion. He was funneling money into private accounts. I glared at the man in the suit. I couldn’t believe this scum was the hero I looked up to as a child. “Chloe, honey,” Dad stammered. ” The driver is… busy.” “Your Aunt is just doing me a favor. Your Mom always says we should look out for her.” I laughed out loud. Look out for her? You’re looking out for her all the way to the bedroom. I shot a cold glare at Brenda, who was staring at her shoes, silent. I left the office and drove straight to my grandparents’ estate. They were retired now, living the good life. They never really liked Dad, but tolerated him because the business was doing well. As soon as I walked in, I collapsed into their arms and started sobbing. “Nana! Pop! What do I do? I think Dad is cheating!” They jumped up. “Baby, is that true? You can’t joke about that!” I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “Yes! I saw them!” “What if I lose my family? What if Dad gives all the money to someone else?” “Will Mom and I be homeless? Will I have to beg on the streets?” My grandparents, seeing their precious granddaughter in distress, went into war mode.

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I was the proctor for the last final exam of the semester. When the exam ended, all 48 students were dead. The police immediately zeroed in on me. But the autopsy results came back: every single student died by suicide. With no other options, I was acquitted. But three years later, a medical student found me: “You killed them, didn’t you? I figured out what question you gave them that day.” My body trembled uncontrollably— Three years. She finally came. 1 “Fine, I did it.” Facing this unexpected guest, I continued chopping meat for today’s lunch as if nothing was wrong. I even turned around and greeted her warmly: “Have a seat. You’re just in time for lunch. We can talk while we eat.” Bella White was a bit surprised by my candor but sat at the table with her legs together, her gaze lingering on my cleaver for a few seconds. Very cautious. Good. After all, I once proctored an exam where no one survived. Although the police couldn’t find evidence of my involvement, speculation about me had been rampant in society. There was even a suspense movie based on me that came out of nowhere and won multiple awards. “Many people have come looking for me over the years; you’re not the only one.” I put the chopped meat into the pot, adjusted the heat, and sat opposite her: “But you’re the first to guess that I set a question.” Bella suddenly stood up: “So you really did give them a question!” Only then did I realize—she was bluffing. Since that’s the case, she probably doesn’t know the content of the question either? So I laughed: “Do you think it’s possible? One question made 48 students willingly kill themselves?” Bella slowly sat back down. My expression changed: “But I can.” “You!” 2 Bella was a medical student. The condition of the bodies in the mass suicide case three years ago was so terrible that her medical school sent many forensic students to assist with the autopsies. Bella was one of them. The gruesome state of those bodies left a deep impression on her. She didn’t believe 48 people would commit suicide simultaneously. What kind of person could inhumanely toy with the lives of 48 children? So for three years, she searched through all the information and found that although it was a final exam that day, the exam papers were never seen from beginning to end. She boldly guessed that I had set some question myself. But what question could make 48 children commit collective suicide? Tormented by this question for three years, she finally found me. Unexpectedly, as soon as she bluffed, I admitted it. And I was happy to answer her. “But how is this possible? Those 48 students were wealthy second-generation kids from well-off families, good at socializing, with family and friends. “Some had already received offers from prestigious universities abroad, and some were even engaged! “Every one of them had a boundless future, was optimistic, cheerful, and helpful. They couldn’t possibly have suicidal thoughts, nor did any of them have a history of mental illness. How could they kill themselves over one question from you?!” The kitchen timer rang, and I got up to put the seasonings in. The smell of meat filled the room. Bella swallowed imperceptibly. “The meat will be ready soon. Dr. White, try some later. I’m quite good at making this.” Bella looked away from the pot, glanced at the cleaver in my hand, and a hint of defensiveness flashed in her eyes: “No thanks. “Let’s talk about those kids.” I didn’t mind, put the lid back on the pot, sat back down, and casually placed the cleaver on the table: “Actually, the answer is obvious. “Dr. White participated in the autopsy back then. Do you remember what the bodies had in common?” Recalling the past, a trace of compassion flashed across Bella’s face: “They were all tragic… some mutilated themselves beyond recognition, even confusing the senior medical examiners.” Her voice choked up a bit: “I really can’t imagine how these pearls in the palm of their parents’ hands could be so cruel to themselves.” Unlike her sadness, I smiled calmly. Watching the corners of my mouth slowly rise, Bella couldn’t take it anymore, slammed the table, and stood up: “Are you even human!” 3 I was dragged up by my collar by her: “That was 48 human lives! 48 children with infinite futures! Each of them had thousands of hours of volunteer service, and some even donated millions to charity funds. How can you laugh when they died like that!” “Really?” My smile turned cold: “Volunteer hours can be hired out or even bought with money. Staging photos isn’t difficult either. And the families of these children can easily take out millions for their pocket money. “How can you judge these favored children by the standards that bind ordinary people?” Bella paused while gripping my hand: “What are you saying…” I gently pushed her away: “Let me tell you a story. When the story is finished, our meal will be ready.” “I’m not here to listen to your stories.” “Oh, it’s not a story.” I smiled at her: “It’s a true experience that happened to me.” 4 My husband and I had a daughter. As teachers at this elite school, we tried every means to get our daughter in. Although we knew that with our financial resources, we couldn’t compare with the young masters and ladies in the school. But we always fantasized that in this place with concentrated educational resources, our daughter could also have a bright and boundless future. However, her grades dropped instead of rising, and she, who used to love smiling, had a sullen face all day long. I asked her classmates, and everyone said they didn’t know anything. Everyone told me they tried to be friends with my daughter, but she was not only unwilling but also insulted them. So they could only stay away. But my daughter, my husband and I taught her to be polite and kind. When she came home disheveled again, I forcibly stripped off her clothes. Even though she had applied a lot of powder to her body, as a medical teacher, how could I not see that she had been violated by more than one person? I called the police, but the surveillance records were wiped, and my daughter remained silent. So I called the students to the office one by one to get information. The result was the school giving me a termination notice. Fortunately, my husband ran around and said all the good things, and finally saved my job. But the school leaders warned me— Not to trouble my students again. Speaking of this, I smiled with red eyes: “I just asked the students what they were doing that day normally. I just wanted to know what happened to my daughter in their class. Why did it become my trouble instead?” Bella clutched the corner of her clothes tightly: “Then you should have transferred her as soon as possible…” I sighed: “I planned to do that too, but the day before the procedures were completed, she died.” Bella almost knocked over the cup: “What was the cause of death?” “Don’t know.” I took a deep breath to suppress the trembling of my body: “The body was taken away by the school immediately, saying she was infected with a severe infectious disease and needed to be destroyed immediately. “Neither my husband nor I could stop them…” Bella pursed her lips. I knew what she wanted to say: “I counseled her an hour before she died. Couldn’t I tell if she had an infectious disease? I am an epidemiology teacher…” “Ms. Gu…” Bella didn’t know what to say. After hesitating for a moment, she asked carefully: “Do you think they harmed your daughter, so you killed them?” “I don’t think so, I have evidence.” Bella tensed up. I stared at her: “Do you know how many insane things those positive, optimistic, kind, and promising children in your eyes have done!” Bella’s breath trembled: “Can I see the evidence?” “I’ve already destroyed it.” Bella’s muscles slowly relaxed again: “Ms. Gu, you can’t produce evidence. Based on your one-sided words alone, I can’t rationalize your actions.” “No need to rationalize.” Bella clenched her fists: “But even if what you say is true, they didn’t deserve to die!” “Dr. White, you haven’t seen the faces of those students. “They look sanctimonious in front of the camera, like the pillars of the country should be, and laugh loudly amidst my daughter’s crying and screaming.” My eyes gradually turned cold: “They were a group of people who shouldn’t have lived, yet they dragged a girl who should have lived into hell alive. “Only a year after my daughter died, when I mentioned her name again, not a single person in the entire class remembered.” Bella gritted her teeth: “But that’s not right either. The law will judge them; it’s not up to you to kill them!” “Who said I killed them?” I smiled: “Didn’t you participate in the autopsy? Was any one of them murdered?” Bella paused.

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Once again, my dissertation defense was vetoed by my professor fiancé, and the muffled snickers from my classmates confirmed what they all thought: I was useless. I had spent seven years orbiting Rhys Garrison, devoting my life to his world. I had worked myself to the bone, earning a spot in his coveted PhD program. But all my diligence and academic rigor meant nothing compared to a few words of shallow flattery from my stepsister, Sienna, who walked away with the single, coveted post-doc fellowship. I was shaking with indignation, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to storm into his office and demand an explanation, a shred of decency. Instead, I overheard him chatting with a colleague in the hallway. “So you gave the Clarendon fellowship to Sienna Hale. Aren’t you worried your little girlfriend will make a scene?” “A scene? She’s been glued to my side for seven years. She has a touch of arrogance, and it needs to be curbed. She needs to be disciplined before she can be a proper mistress of the Garrison house.” “Besides,” he added, his voice dripping with casual dismissal, “it’s just a fellowship. She’s the older sister; why would she compete with Sienna?” “She’ll get over it in a few days. She always manages to soothe her own hurt.” He knew how much that fellowship meant to me. It wasn’t just a career path; it was my one chance at independence. And yet, he had carelessly obliterated my hope as easily as erasing a mistake on a whiteboard. My aspirations, it seemed, were always secondary to Sienna’s desires. If she wanted something, I was expected to surrender it. Rhys Garrison assumed I would follow the script I always had: cry, rage, and eventually return, licking my wounds. But this time, I ripped my student ID—my last remaining tether to him and Clarendon—from my neck and hurled it at the wall. The plastic badge hit with a hollow, ugly sound. “Fine…” “If Professor Garrison holds me in such low regard, then I, Eliza Hale, will no longer be an offense to your sight!” Rhys didn’t know that my father had already prepared a different path for me. If I couldn’t secure the fellowship, I would be used to serve my stepsister’s interests: a strategic marriage to the powerful Vaughn family, a “healing match” to their comatose heir… 1 I dragged my numb body out of the Humanities building. My family’s black sedan was parked outside. Sienna was leaning against the passenger door, a subtle smirk playing on her lips as she took in my wrecked appearance. “My, my, sister. Seven years trailing after the Professor, and you don’t even get a consolation prize.” “It seems I hold a special place in his heart, after all. A few soft words, and he couldn’t bear to have me as a competitor.” I tried to pull my lips into a smile, but no sound came out. My father, Arthur, waited in the car, his expression dark with irritation. He glanced at my stepmother and sneered. “Rhys Garrison’s devotion to Eliza amounts to nothing. A pity the Hale family wasted so much money on her education.” The remaining students and faculty who hadn’t scattered began to stare, whispering. I felt like a damaged artifact on public display, judged and dissected. My father, embarrassed, quickly rolled up his window. Rhys walked out of the building just then, catching the tail end of their remarks. He didn’t look at me, only offered a slight, curt nod in my father’s direction, and walked away as if nothing was happening. Sienna’s laugh was high-pitched and sharp, driving a shard of ice into my heart. It was in that moment I finally understood. Rhys wasn’t blind; he simply didn’t care. 2 “It’s settled then. Since Eliza has no future at Clarendon, she will prepare to marry into the Vaughn family.” My father’s voice was unnervingly placid as we sat in the living room. The rule had been established months ago, a cold business transaction: whichever daughter failed to secure the Clarendon fellowship would fulfill the betrothal contract with the Vaughns. The guests had left, leaving just our fractured family. My Grams rushed to me, sobbing. “I won’t allow my granddaughter to be sent to that house! Everyone knows the Vaughn boy, Silas, has been a vegetable for two years! Eliza will be ruining her life, burying herself alive!” My father’s face turned crimson. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Whose fault is that? She has no backbone! She can write a flawless research proposal, but when it counts, she can’t even outmaneuver Sienna!” Grams cried harder. “That Sienna girl is conniving! Who knows what tricks she used? No, I’ll go see Professor Garrison myself. I’ll make him re-examine the papers!” I pulled Grams closer, managing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Grams, don’t go. Rhys said I was too proud and undisciplined. He vetoed my thesis over a single methodological flaw.” My voice finally broke, a choked sob escaping me. “He did it on purpose. He wanted me to lose to Sienna…” Rhys came from a good family, he was impossibly clean-cut, and his intellect was legendary. At twenty-six, he was the youngest Associate Professor at Clarendon. The first time he taught a public lecture, the hall was packed—half the audience just there to admire him. Who wouldn’t be drawn to that kind of brilliance? I was no exception. I wanted to be worthy of him. I wanted to stand beside him. That desire had made me shed my old, spirited self, burying my head in books, pursuing academic perfection. I nearly killed myself studying for the PhD entrance exam. I thought we had a future. Grams continued to weep, and I stroked her back, trying to comfort her while my own world dissolved. I walked heavily back to my room. Sitting at my desk, I began taking every note I had organized for Rhys, every transcribed article, every meticulously cross-referenced text, and dumping them into a heavy storage box. Then, I carried the box downstairs and set it ablaze in the courtyard incinerator. The firelight reflected on my face, and the flames consumed the last seven years of my foolish devotion. 3 After that night, I was a different person. My world became silent. I rarely spoke, never left the house, and moved with a lifeless apathy. When my father hired an etiquette coach to teach me the rigid protocols of high society, I surprised them all by mastering the lessons with quiet focus. My father was immensely pleased. He privately instructed me that once I was in the Vaughn household, I needed to charm them, put in a good word for the Hale family’s failing business, and, most importantly, lay the groundwork for Sienna’s future. It was laughable. A man willing to sacrifice his own daughter for a scrap of wealth, all while prioritizing the child of his second marriage. They misunderstood me. If I entered the Vaughn house, I would certainly not lift a finger to save this decaying family. But I offered no rebuttal, only a cold, placid nod. That afternoon, my father called me to his study. Passing the entrance hall, I ran straight into Rhys. He was leaving after dropping off some materials. It was the first time I’d seen him in over a month. I paused, offering him a standard curtsy. The movement was textbook, my expression utterly blank—precisely as my coach had taught me. Rhys froze, then his expression softened slightly. “Eliza…” My throat tightened. In seven years, he had rarely called me by my first name alone, insisting on using my full name to uphold “proper academic decorum.” Now, it came so naturally. “Professor Garrison,” I corrected, my voice flat. “By all protocols, you should address me as Ms. Hale.” He smiled, as if I had uttered something charmingly playful. “Such discipline. Very good. But you don’t have to be so formal with me. Once I wrap up this administrative work, I’ll have my parents call on your father to formally propose.” I stared at him, the absurdity of his assumption washing over me. “Propose? You sabotaged my defense, ensured I lost my career, and now you claim you want to marry me?” He took a step closer. I involuntarily recoiled. He chuckled again, a sound as chilling as winter wind. I heard him say, “If you don’t let me smooth out that rebellious streak of yours, how will you ever be fit to be the mistress of the Garrison house?” 4 Grams had watched my silent decline over the last weeks. Seeing me wither, she pleaded with my father to let me leave the house, using the excuse of needing to shop for a wedding trousseau. She insisted my cousin, Liam, accompany me. Liam was three years older than me and worked in finance. He knew my entire story and was heartbroken for me. He had tried to intervene with my father, but Arthur was already too deep into the deal—my birth date had been sent to the Vaughns; the marriage was fixed. Liam did his best to cheer me up. “Eliza, let’s go to the bookshop. We can buy some new professional journals. You love reading those, right?” He watched my face anxiously. “Even if… even if it’s inconvenient later, you can read them for your own sanity.” I finally managed a genuine, albeit faint, smile, and he visibly relaxed. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “I’ll work hard. I’ll be the one to back you up someday.” I was momentarily stunned. Liam and I used to be close. But one time, Rhys saw us shopping together. His face had darkened. Later, he called me into his office and lectured me fiercely. “There are boundaries between men and women, Eliza. You are about to graduate; you must maintain professionalism. You will not only compromise your own future but also invite unnecessary gossip.” His words were cruel, but I was so accustomed to obeying him. Terrified I might actually jeopardize Liam’s career, I began to distance myself. Now, I realized how ridiculous it was. Liam and I were innocent; there was nothing to gossip about. Rhys’s judgment was not the final word. Feeling a strange sense of release, I smiled and picked up a few academic books. Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet. “Sister?” I looked up. Sienna was standing with Rhys. She held a few books, her soft skirt and his sharp blazer making them look perfectly matched. Rhys’s eyes landed on Liam and me. He gripped the books in his hand, his knuckles white. Sienna looked from me to Liam, her eyes darting between us. She smiled, sickeningly innocent. “What a coincidence! You and Liam are out shopping, too. Did I interrupt something?” I couldn’t think of a response. Just then, Rhys handed his books to Sienna. “You said you needed the latest literature review. This one is excellent.” Sienna’s cheeks flushed. She took the book, letting her fingers brush his cuff. “I was also hoping to look over a few of your recent papers, Professor. Could you lend them to me for my studies?” Rhys gave a brief “Hmm,” then turned and walked away with Sienna in tow. They got into a sleek car and vanished around the corner. I shook my head, laughing hollowly. I was laughing at myself. I had idolized him for seven years, and he had never given me a moment of dedicated, one-on-one mentorship. Sienna, with a few flirtatious words, had broken his rule. It was fine. My heart was finally dead. I arrived home in the late afternoon. Grams said Sienna had brought Rhys back for dinner. My father insisted on drinking with him. Grams was furious. “I always thought he was cold-hearted, but now I see he’s blind and stupid, completely taken in by that… sort of girl.” I comforted Grams, though I felt a flicker of confusion. He’s playing nice with my father? On my way to my room, I passed the garden. Rhys was standing by a stone fountain, watching me, looking as if he had been waiting. “Eliza. Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” Say what? I stayed silent. In the past, I would have circled him, babbling about the smallest event of my day. Now, I was exhausted. I had nothing left to share with him. What was the point? Should I tell him that my father was financially ruined and only valued his younger, preferred daughter? Should I explain that because of Rhys’s casual favoritism, I had lost my only path to a career and was now being sold off to marry a man in a permanent coma? Seeing my silence, his voice hardened. “You were seen being overly familiar with another man today. And reading those trashy books? Is that how a PhD candidate should behave?” His scolding tone was utterly absurd. Liam and I were strictly proper, while he had been touching and guiding Sienna in public. How had I never seen his colossal arrogance before? Too tired to argue, I merely offered a dismissive half-smile. “Professor Garrison is quite right to scold me. I am tired and must retire. Please enjoy your evening.” He nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, and looked about to continue lecturing. Just then, the housekeeper called him for dinner. I gave a perfunctory nod, walked around him, and didn’t look back. 5 Rhys was utterly distracted during dinner. Eliza’s new, quiet demeanor unsettled him. He had wanted to break her rebellious spirit, but the complete absence of her usual fierce energy made him feel strangely hollow. My father, eager to climb the academic social ladder attached to the Garrison name, drank heavily. Rhys was usually aloof, but tonight he was surprisingly genial. By the time Arthur was flushed and stumbling, he could barely follow Rhys’s slurred conversation. He only heard fragments like “formal proposal,” “asking for her hand,” and, since Rhys had personally escorted Sienna home, Arthur immediately assumed Rhys was there to marry Sienna. Without a moment’s thought, he joyously agreed to the marriage. When Rhys returned home, he couldn’t sleep. He had spoken to Arthur, but an unsettling feeling persisted. He was marrying Eliza, who had finally become the compliant woman he desired, yet he felt no joy. He missed her defiance. He shook off the feeling, deciding a swift proposal would solve his anxiety. The next morning, my father triumphantly announced that Rhys Garrison would marry Sienna. My stepmother and Sienna were ecstatic, and Sienna’s eyes welled up with performative joy. “I love Professor Garrison, too!” she chirped. I tightened my hands into fists, listening in silence as my father lectured me. “Whatever ideas you had about the Professor, forget them. He’s marrying your sister, and you are marrying the Vaughn heir. You must stay away from him.” “If I catch you entertaining any dangerous notions or interfering with your sister’s wedding, you will regret it…” Ignoring Sienna’s smug, challenging glare, I curled my lip indifferently. “Father is absolutely correct. I will stay far away from Professor Garrison.” No sooner had I finished speaking than the housekeeper announced that Rhys’s mother and Rhys himself had arrived for the formal proposal. Sienna leaped up excitedly, helping my father to the drawing room to greet them. I followed behind, keeping my head down, trying to disappear. Once both families were seated and the formal betrothal cards were exchanged, Rhys smiled and walked toward me. “Eliza,” he said, his voice soft. “How about we set the wedding for the fall? It won’t be too hot for a wedding dress then.” The room fell instantly silent. My father’s teacup slipped from his hand and shattered on the polished floor.

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Chapter 1: The Girl Who Didn’t Cry Pain is the world’s most primal language. It’s the universal alarm system, the scream that says, “Stop, you are dying.” I was born deaf to that scream. My name is Nora Vance. In the sprawling, manicured estate of the Vance political dynasty in Upstate New York, I was known simply as “The Spare.” Or, if the servants thought I couldn’t hear them, “The Ghost.” My twin sister, Nova, was the masterpiece. She was the vibrant oil painting—full of color, passion, and fire. I was the rough sketch, discarded in the trash bin. Nova was the daughter who would inherit my father’s Senate seat. I was the daughter who had to be watched constantly, not because I was precious, but because I would chew through my own lip until it bled and not even notice. I remember sitting in the rose garden when I was six. I was fascinated by the thorns. They looked like little shark teeth. I grabbed a stem and squeezed. I watched, with a detached, scientific curiosity, as the blood welled up between my fingers, thick and crimson. It didn’t hurt. It felt like… warm water. Nothing more. My mother found me. She didn’t hug me. She screamed. Not in fear for me, but in horror of me. “She’s doing it again!” she shrieked to the nanny. “Fix her! Bandage her! God, she’s like a monster.” Monster. That was the label that stuck. While Nova was learning piano and ballet, I was undergoing tests in sterile white rooms. The doctors called it CIPA—Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. “She can’t feel pain, heat, or cold,” the neurologist told my father, Senator Vance. “She lacks the nerves to protect herself. She is a danger to herself.” My father looked at me with the same expression he wore when he looked at a polling chart that was trending downward. Disappointment. Liability. “Keep her alive,” he ordered. “But keep her out of sight. We have an image to maintain.” So, I grew up in the shadows. I learned to fake it. I learned that when you fall down, you are supposed to cry. I learned that when you touch a hot stove, you are supposed to jerk your hand back, even if your brain registers zero sensation. I became an actress in my own life, performing humanity for an audience that wished I didn’t exist. Until the day the Thorne Family came calling. Chapter 2: The Deal with the Devil The summons came on a Tuesday. I was in the library, reading a book on anatomy—trying to understand intellectually what I couldn’t feel physically—when my father walked in. He didn’t knock. He never knocked for me. “Nora,” he said. He was wearing his campaign smile, the one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Put the book down. We need to talk.” I placed a bookmark on page 42. “Yes, sir.” “You know the Thorne family,” he started, pacing the room. “They control the shipping lanes. The unions. The… darker side of the city’s infrastructure.” “The Mafia,” I corrected calmly. “We call them ‘strategic partners,’” he snapped. “The Thornes and the Vances have been at each other’s throats for a decade. A truce has been negotiated. A merger.” He stopped pacing and looked at me. “A marriage.” I blinked. “Nova is dating the Governor’s son. You wouldn’t break that engagement.” “Not Nova,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You.” I stared at him. “Me?” “Declan Thorne,” he said. The name landed in the room like a grenade. Declan Thorne. The youngest son of the Thorne patriarch. The “Mad Dog.” Rumor had it he was cursed. Unstable. Violent. “He’s a widower,” I said. “Three times over.” “Unfortunate accidents,” my father waved his hand dismissively. “Heart failure. Car crash. Suicide. The police never found evidence of foul play.” “The tabloids call him ‘The Bluebeard of Brooklyn,’” I pointed out. “They say he kills them when he gets bored.” “He is powerful,” my father stepped closer, looming over me. “And he requested a Vance daughter. He didn’t specify which one.” I understood then. The realization washed over me, cold and logical. Nova was the asset. I was the expendable currency. If Declan Thorne killed his fourth wife, the Vances would lose nothing but a liability. In fact, my death would probably garner my father sympathy votes in the next election. “He is dangerous,” my father said, looking at my hands—scarred from years of accidental burns and cuts. “But you… you’re tough, Nora. You don’t break like normal girls. You don’t feel things.” He touched my cheek. His hand was cold, but I assumed it was supposed to feel warm. “Do this for the family. Do this, and you’ll finally have a purpose.” A purpose. To be a sacrificial lamb. “Okay,” I said. My voice didn’t tremble. Why would it? I couldn’t feel the sting of betrayal any more than I could feel a knife cut. “Okay,” I repeated. “I’ll marry the monster.” Chapter 3: The Fortress of Solitude The wedding was a private affair. No press. No white dress. Just a signature on a prenup that was thicker than a bible, and a black car ride to Declan Thorne’s estate. He didn’t live in a house. He lived in a fortress. A brutalist concrete mansion perched on a cliff overlooking the Hudson River, surrounded by electric fences and guards with assault rifles. I was ushered into the master bedroom by a silent maid. “Wait here,” she said. “Mr. Thorne will be up shortly.” I sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets were black silk. Everything in the room was sharp edges and chrome. It felt like an operating theater. The door opened. Declan Thorne walked in. He was not what I expected. The tabloids usually showed blurry photos of a man in a suit, looking angry. In person, he was… overwhelming. He was tall, over six-three, with broad shoulders that strained against his white dress shirt. His hair was dark, cropped short. But it was his eyes that caught me. They weren’t dead, like I expected from a serial killer. They were frantic. Alert. Paranoiac. He scanned the room as he entered, checking corners, checking the window locks. He looked at me. His gaze was physical, a heavy weight pressing down. “So,” he said. His voice was deep, gravelly—the sound of tires on a dirt road. “You’re the sacrifice.” “I’m Nora,” I said, standing up. “Nora. Nova. Whatever,” he scoffed. He locked the door behind him. “Did your father give you the speech? Duty? Honor? Family?” “He told me to survive.” “Optimistic of him,” Declan laughed, a dry, humorless bark. He walked toward me. I didn’t flinch. I stood perfectly still, my hands clasped in front of me. He stopped inches from my face. He smelled of whiskey and gun oil. “Strip,” he ordered. I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. Take it off. The dress. The shoes. Everything.” I hesitated. Was this it? The abuse? “Why?” I asked. “Because,” he snarled, reaching out and grabbing my arm. His grip was bruisingly tight. “The last wife tried to bring a wire into the bedroom. The one before that had a ceramic knife taped to her inner thigh. I’m not getting killed in my sleep by a politician’s daughter.” He wasn’t a predator. He was prey. He was terrified. “I’m not an assassin,” I said. “That’s exactly what an assassin would say.” He spun me around. He patted me down. Rough, efficient hands. He checked the hem of my dress. He checked my hair. Then, he reached into the pocket of my blazer. He pulled out a small, silver object. “Aha,” he said triumphantly. “What is this? Poison? A dart gun?” I looked at it. “It’s an EpiPen. I’m allergic to peanuts.” He stared at it. He uncapped it, sniffed it, and then tossed it onto the bed. He reached into the other pocket. He pulled out a Swiss Army Knife. “And this?” he raised an eyebrow. “For peeling apples, I assume?” “Self-defense,” I said honestly. “The city is dangerous.” “You bring a two-inch blade to kill me?” He laughed again, tossing the knife across the room. It clattered against the wall. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Who sent you? Your father? The Russians? The Board?” “No one,” I said. My head rattled, but I kept my eyes focused on his tie. “I’m just the spare daughter, Declan. I’m here because Nova was too valuable to waste on you.” He froze. He looked at my face, searching for fear. He didn’t find any. “You’re not scared,” he whispered, suspicious. “Why aren’t you scared? I’m hurting you.” He squeezed harder. His nails dug into my skin. I knew, logically, that it should hurt. I knew my skin was bruising. “You’re wrinkling my dress,” I said flatly. He let go of me as if I had burned him. He stepped back, looking at me with total confusion. “You’re a freak,” he muttered. “A robot.” He walked to the closet and pulled out a pillow and a blanket. He threw them onto the floor. “Sleep there,” he commanded. “If you move toward the bed, I shoot you. If you get up to use the bathroom, you announce it. Clear?” I looked at the floor. It was polished concrete. Hard. Cold. “Clear,” I said. I lay down on the floor, pulling the thin blanket over me. I closed my eyes. The floor was uncomfortable, I assumed. But to me, it was just a surface. I fell asleep to the sound of Declan Thorne checking the safety on his handgun, over and over again. Click. Click. Click. Chapter 4: The Tea Ceremony The next morning, I woke up because a boot nudged my ribs. “Get up,” Declan said. “We have to go to the Ancestral House. The Chairman wants to see the new merchandise.” The Chairman was Declan’s grandfather. The Emperor of the underworld. We drove in silence. Declan drove like a maniac, weaving through traffic, constantly checking his mirrors. The Ancestral House was an old Victorian mansion in the middle of the city, an island of gothic architecture amidst skyscrapers. Inside, the air was thick with incense and tension. We were led to a tea room. An old man sat on a tatami mat. He looked frail, like a dried leaf, but his eyes were black holes. The Chairman. “Grandfather,” Declan bowed stiffly. “Declan,” the old man wheezed. “And the Vance girl.” I bowed. “Sir.” “Sit,” the Chairman ordered. We sat. A servant poured tea. The steam rising from the cups was thick. “Your father,” the Chairman said to me, “is a snake. But snakes have their uses.” He picked up his cup. “Drink. It is a tradition. A toast to the union.” I picked up the cup. It was porcelain, thin and delicate. It was also boiling hot. The servant had poured it straight from the kettle. I could see the heat radiating from the ceramic. Normal people would wait. They would blow on it. But the Chairman was watching me. Testing me. If I hesitated, I showed weakness. If I showed weakness, I shamed Declan. If I shamed Declan, the alliance might crumble. I didn’t hesitate. I lifted the cup. My fingers didn’t send warning signals. I brought it to my lips. I drank. The liquid was scalding. It must have been near boiling point. I felt the texture of the liquid sliding down my throat, but not the burn. I didn’t wince. I didn’t tear up. I set the cup down. “Excellent tea,” I said politely. The room went silent. The Chairman stared at me. He looked at my lips, which were turning a bright, angry red. He looked at my hands, which were blistering where I held the cup. “You…” the Chairman narrowed his eyes. “You have iron skin, girl?” Declan was staring at me too. His jaw was unclenched for the first time. He looked… horrified. “She’s burned,” Declan said abruptly. He grabbed my hand. “Look at her skin. It’s peeling.” “I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just tea.” “It’s boiling water!” Declan snapped. He turned to his grandfather. “Is this a test? Or did you just try to melt her throat?” “She drank it,” the Chairman chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “She drank it without blinking. The Vances breed them tough. Good. Maybe this one will survive you, Declan.” Declan stood up, pulling me with him. “We’re leaving,” he growled. He dragged me out of the room, ignoring the Chairman’s laughter. Chapter 5: Ointment and Lies Back in the car, Declan didn’t start the engine immediately. He turned on the dome light and grabbed my face. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. “Why?” “Open it!” I opened my mouth. He peered inside. “Christ,” he hissed. “Your tongue is blistered. Your palate is… s**t, Nora. Does it hurt?” “No,” I said. He froze. He looked into my eyes, searching for the lie. “What do you mean, no? You have third-degree burns inside your mouth.” “I have a high pain tolerance,” I lied. It was the standard Vance Family Lie. “Tolerance isn’t immunity,” he argued. He looked down at my hand. The blisters were rising, white and fluid-filled. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a first-aid kit. He took out a tube of burn gel. “Give me your hand.” He applied the gel. His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man who threw knives at walls. His fingers were calloused, warm against my skin. “Why did you drink it?” he asked quietly, not looking at me. “He was testing us,” I said. “If I flinched, he would think I was weak. If I was weak, he would think you married a liability.” Declan stopped moving. He held my hand, staring at the blisters. “You burned yourself… for my reputation?” “I am your wife,” I recited the lines my father taught me. “Your reputation is my safety.” Declan let out a long, shaky breath. He looked at me, and for the first time, the paranoia in his eyes cracked. Behind it, I saw something else. Confusion. And maybe, just a flicker of respect. “You’re not a spy,” he murmured. “Spies don’t damage the merchandise.” “I told you,” I said. “I’m just the spare.” He finished bandaging my hand. He started the car. “We’re going home,” he said. “And you’re not sleeping on the floor tonight.” “The bed?” “The couch,” he corrected. “I still don’t trust you. But… I don’t think you’re going to kill me.” “Why not?” “Because,” he glanced at my bandaged hand as he merged onto the highway. “You’re too busy killing yourself.” Chapter 6: The Leftovers Life in the fortress settled into a strange rhythm. Declan was gone during the day, “managing the family business,” which I assumed involved shouting at union leaders and intimidating rivals. I stayed in the house. I explored. The house was cold. The kitchen was stocked with gourmet food, but the staff was terrified of Declan. They cooked elaborate meals that he never ate. One evening, Declan came home late. He found me in the kitchen. I was sitting at the island, eating cold lasagna straight from the Tupperware container. He stopped in the doorway, loosening his tie. He looked exhausted. There was a smear of blood on his shirt cuff—not his, I assumed. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Eating dinner,” I said, swallowing a bite. “That’s yesterday’s lasagna,” he said. “It’s cold.” “I know.” “Why aren’t you eating the fresh meal the chef prepared? There’s a steak in the warmer.” I shrugged. “I’m used to leftovers.” “Used to them?” He walked over, frowning. “You’re a Vance. You grew up in a mansion.” “I grew up in the West Wing,” I corrected. “My meals were sent up after Nova and my parents finished. Sometimes the trays sat in the hall for an hour. Cold food is… consistent. It doesn’t surprise you.” Declan stared at me. He looked at the cold, congealed cheese on my fork. He suddenly snatched the fork from my hand. “Hey,” I said. He took the Tupperware container and threw it into the trash. Clang. “We don’t eat garbage in this house,” he growled. He walked to the oven and pulled out the steak. He plated it. He poured a glass of red wine. He set it in front of me. “Eat,” he ordered. “Hot food.” “I can’t tell the difference in temperature,” I said, without thinking. He paused. “What?” I froze. I had slipped. “I mean… I don’t mind the temperature,” I corrected quickly. Declan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. He was studying me again, with that intense, laser-like focus. “You didn’t flinch when I grabbed your arm on the wedding night,” he listed. “You drank boiling tea. You eat cold food. You walk around this house like a ghost.” He stepped closer. “And I saw you yesterday. In the garden.” My heart—which functioned perfectly well even if my nerves didn’t—skipped a beat. “I was pruning the roses,” I said. “I saw you catch a thorn,” he said. “It went deep. Into your thumb. You pulled it out and kept working. You didn’t even suck the wound.” He grabbed my hand again, ripping the bandage off my thumb. The cut was there, angry and red. “Why didn’t you react, Nora?” “I have a high tolerance,” I repeated the lie. “Bull****,” he whispered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. A silver Zippo. He flicked it on. The flame danced, blue and yellow. “Put your hand over the flame,” he said. “Declan, don’t be crazy.” “Do it. If you have a high tolerance, you’ll still feel the heat. You’ll pull away before it burns. It’s instinct.” He moved the flame closer to my hand. I watched the fire. It was beautiful. Hypnotic. I felt the pressure of the heat wave, the displacement of air. But I felt no pain. My brain knew I should pull away. Act. Perform. But I was tired. I was so tired of pretending. And Declan… he was the first person who actually looked at me closely enough to notice the glitches in my performance. The flame touched my skin. I smelled the singed hair. The skin began to blister instantly. I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I watched it like I was watching a science experiment. Declan snapped the lighter shut. He shoved my hand away. He looked pale. He looked terrified. “You don’t feel it,” he whispered. The horror in his voice was genuine. “You don’t feel anything.” “CIPA,” I said quietly. “Congenital Insensitivity to Pain.” Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick. “You’re a monster,” he breathed. But the word lacked the venom my mother used. It sounded more like… recognition. “I know,” I said. “That’s why they gave me to you. The monster bride for the monster groom.” Declan looked at my burned hand. Then he looked at my face. “Does it apply to everything?” he asked. “Heartbreak? Fear? loneliness?” “Just physical pain,” I said. “The rest… the rest I feel just fine.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Well,” he said, turning to the drawer to get the burn ointment again. “That makes two of us. I feel too much of everything else, and you feel nothing of the one thing that keeps people alive.” He sat down next to me and started applying the salve. “You’re going to die if I don’t watch you,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “Probably,” I agreed. “Not on my watch,” he grumbled. “Three dead wives is a pattern. Four is a statistic. I hate statistics.” He finished bandaging me. He didn’t let go of my hand. “Eat your steak,” he said. “Before it gets cold. I know you don’t care, but I do.” I picked up the knife and fork. I took a bite. It was warm. Or at least, I imagined it was. And for the first time in my life, the warmth didn’t just stop at my skin. It seeped in, just a little bit deeper.

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When Christian broke up with me for the nth time, I was pulling an all-nighter for my annual performance review. “Chloe, I’m giving you twenty minutes. Get to the club and apologize, or we’re done.” I instantly broke down. “This report is critical for my promotion. Can you pick another day to throw a tantrum?” His tone was light, dismissive. “Tantrum? Looks like your job is more important than me. Fine, let’s break up.” “Oh, and by the way, I can be pretty petty.” “Stopping your promotion is just one phone call away.” I slammed the phone down, furious. But suddenly, a stream of floating comments—like a Twitch chat—appeared in front of my eyes. [Does the FL (Female Lead) actually believe his threats? The ML (Male Lead) already secretly approved her promotion. He just wants to surprise her!] [As long as she shows she’d choose him over her career, he’d give her the CEO chair if she asked. He’d never actually ruin her future.] [Avoidant attachment style at its finest. Says ‘go away’ but means ‘hug me tight.’ He needs her to cling to him.] [The ML is literally standing outside her door right now, waiting for her to run out and comfort him. This angst is delicious!] I was skeptical, hand hovering over the doorknob to go find him. Then, a WeChat notification popped up. “Heard your promotion is dead in the water, Miss Zhou. Interested in jumping ship?” 1 I stared at the message from a user named “Wings.” After racking my brain, I ruled out a prank. Was this Christian using a burner account to test me? No. Christian was too arrogant for that. In our ten-year relationship, I was always the one to cave, to apologize. The drama of me rushing over to beg for forgiveness? We’d rehearsed it a thousand times. My unconditional love had made him fearless. So who was this? The floating comments gave me the answer immediately. [The ML’s arch-nemesis is trying to poach her! He overheard the ML on the phone in the club bathroom. He texted the FL the second he walked out. Ruthless.] [The FL isn’t just the ML’s girlfriend; she’s a key player at the company. Julian Gu, the rival CEO, naturally wants to steal talent.] [Let’s be real, Julian has been thirsting after the FL for ages. This is personal.] I narrowed my eyes. Julian Gu. My team beat his company, Gu Corp, in the last bidding war. At the after-party, people joked that we should connect. Back then, he didn’t even look at me. I stood there, smile freezing on my face, until he finally, coldly, let me scan his QR code. I thought he’d delete me the next day. Turns out, he kept me. But I only half-believed the comments. Christian never hid our relationship, but in public, he treated me with the cold detachment of a superior. To outsiders, I was just a corporate slave making $3,000 a month. Julian loved mocking Christian for it. “Finding a corporate slave who doubles as a free bed-warmer? Christian really is a brilliant businessman.” Julian looked down on me. His job offer felt less like an opportunity and more like a way to piss off Christian. I scrolled past his name. Christian’s assistant had sent a voice note. “Chloe, please come quick. Mr. Pei is drunk and refuses to leave.” He also sent a video of Christian making a scene. I hesitated, about to change clothes, then froze. There she was. Bella, giggling in the background at the 30-second mark. [The ML is pulling this stunt again. Calling the Second Female Lead over just to make the FL jealous.] [He knows she falls for it every time. Scare her a little, and she loses her mind.] [Go to him, girl! I bet my membership on it—if you apologize tonight, he’ll be on his knees waiting for you.] [I get the ML. Seeing your partner suffer over a breakup feels so validating. It proves they love you.] I was stunned. The floating text wasn’t a hallucination. They called me the FL, and Christian the ML. Christian was exactly as they described—always threatening breakups, waiting for me to salvage things. If I didn’t go, he’d get everyone around us to pressure me. But even when I went, he wouldn’t soften immediately. Last time, I took a red-eye train just to comfort him. I walked in, exhausted, and he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he leaned into Bella. “Who told her to come? I thought you had a backbone. Didn’t we break up?” But seconds later, his body betrayed him. He clung to me. That night, he wouldn’t let me go. Seven times. The next day, he showered me with bags and trips, overcompensating. I once asked him, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away if you treat me like this?” He buried his face in my neck. “Wifey would never leave me over something so small.” “Chloe, as long as you take one step toward me, I’ll walk the remaining ninety-nine steps to you.” But he didn’t know. After being tortured like this repeatedly… I didn’t want to take a single step anymore. I was too tired for this exhausting love. Seeing no reply from me, the assistant kept calling. I hesitated. Should I coax him one more time? Then Bella sent a message. “Christian says don’t bother coming. He wants me to watch the sunrise with him!” She sent a short video. “Christian, Chloe isn’t coming. Is she really breaking up with you?” Christian downed his drink. “We broke up. Don’t mention her.” “Didn’t you want to see the sunrise? Let’s go.” He glanced at the camera. He knew she was recording. I took a deep breath and threw my phone onto the couch. I turned back to my laptop. Optimizing my PPT. Instead of believing the comments about a secret promotion, I chose to believe in my own competence. I wasn’t Christian or Bella, born with a silver spoon. I grew up poor. I had to seize every opportunity myself. 2 Christian didn’t come home all night. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I walked into the office with a heavy heart. Christian was already there. Impeccably dressed. Stern face. Radiating the oppressive aura of a CEO. A complete 180 from the childish drunk he was last night. I presented my performance review nervously. When I finished, he applauded with everyone else. His gaze was calm, even friendly. I was confused. Did me ignoring him actually fix things? After the meeting, I noticed a small gift box on everyone’s desk. The Finance Director next to me eyes lit up. “Wow, having a CEO boyfriend is nice. You get a promotion, we get gifts?” The admin girl cleared her throat. “This is a welcome gift from the new Executive Assistant.” The Finance Director was shocked. “Everyone gets a limited edition perfume as a hello?” “What is this, a new way for rich kids to flex on us peasants?” The admin glanced at me uneasily. She pulled the Finance Director aside. “The new assistant is the only daughter of the Bai Group, our biggest client.” “Mr. Pei paid for the gifts. Said he wanted to help his childhood friend make a good impression.” Bella. I understood immediately. Bella had always wanted to work at Pei Corp to get close to Christian. The Bai family had proposed a marriage alliance multiple times. Christian had always refused because of me. But after one night, he agreed. And he put her in the CEO’s office as his private assistant. A position I, his official girlfriend, wasn’t allowed to hold. I tried not to think about what happened between them last night. I opened a file, trying to work. A colleague told me Christian was looking for me. I headed straight to his office. When I walked in, I saw Bella sitting on Christian’s desk, her back to me. Her waist, snatched in a pencil skirt, was leaning against Christian’s hand. My palms stung. I never thought I’d see Christian intimate with someone else. I coughed lightly. Bella jumped off the desk. Seeing it was me, her smile vanished. She pouted. “You’ve worked here for years, don’t you know how to knock?” I paused. I never knocked when entering Christian’s office. “Sorry. Next time you guys are doing something inappropriate, lock the door.” Christian, who was expecting me to explode, changed his expression slightly. But he kept his cool. “Did you need something, Mr. Pei?” He replied calmly, “The board decided to put your promotion on hold.” Bella shot me a triumphant look. I stared at my shoes. “Mhm.” He didn’t lie. Just because I didn’t baby him last night, he halted my career. It felt like a boulder crushing my chest. My eyes burned. Thanks to the floating comments, I was prepared enough to keep my composure. “Okay. Understood.” Silence stretched between us. Dead air. “If you want to fight for it…” I cut him off. “I don’t. If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving.” I turned quickly. He called out. “Also, the Project A account. Bella will handle it from now on. Hand it over to her today.” I whipped around. “What did you say?” I had spent six months prepping Project A. No days off. The stress was so bad I needed pills to sleep. This project was my hope. I wanted to prove I wasn’t just riding Christian’s coattails. He knew how much it meant to me. He even helped me get resources behind the scenes. Now, right before the finish line, he was giving it to Bella? “Bella is new. She needs a win to establish herself.” “Project A is high profile and almost done. Perfect for her to practice on.” I fought back tears. “You know this project is my life.” “Why are you doing this to me?” He smiled vindictively. “I told you. I’m petty.” “Besides, I’m the boss. I don’t need your permission to assign projects.” “If you don’t like it, you can quit.” Bella giggled, covering her mouth. I looked at them coldly. One gloating, one arrogant. Both sure I wouldn’t leave. “Fine. I quit.” Christian’s smile vanished. He stared at me in disbelief. He raised his voice. “Chloe, don’t think being my girlfriend gives you the right to throw tantrums.” “Don’t test me. I will let you go!” I looked him dead in the eye. “Mr. Pei, you seem to forget. We broke up.” He choked. Bella, seeing the tension, smirked. She put on a worried act. “Christian, maybe we should forget it. Don’t fight because of me.” She added provocatively, “I’m so clumsy. What if I ruin Chloe’s hard work?” He patted Bella’s head indulgently. “It doesn’t matter if you ruin it. It’s just a small project. Worthless.” Blood rushed to my head. It took everything I had not to slap them both. My nails dug into my palms until they bled. “A company that uses projects to flirt with women isn’t worth staying at.” “Consider my years of hard work dog food.” Bella put her hands on her hips. “Who are you calling a dog?” I sneered. “If the collar fits.” “Chloe!” Christian’s face was livid. I turned and walked out without looking back. 3 I walked back to my desk like a zombie. Only when no one was looking did the tears fall. The floating comments appeared again. [The FL is so confused! The ML was putting on a show! The second she left, he kicked the Second Female Lead out!] [He just wanted to see her get jealous and submit. He didn’t expect her to be so stubborn and actually quit.] [Dating a superior means swallowing your pride. She wants the money AND the dignity. Greedy.] [She’s not thinking straight. Without this job, who pays for her sick mom’s medical bills? Can dignity pay for chemo?] The comments were right. My mom’s life depended on expensive imported drugs. Christian’s salary kept her alive. If the money stopped, my only family in this world would die. Just as I was agonizing over money, Christian messaged me. A rare initiative. “Come apologize to Bella, and I might consider giving the project back.” “I’ll even give you the new Pei Corp projects for the second half of the year.” “And your ID badge. Come get it yourself.” This was the first time Christian had ever offered a compromise. The comments rallied for him. [He finally lowered his head! You have no idea how hard this is for Mr. Pretend-He-Doesn’t-Care.] [As an avoidant myself, I’m moved. We have to love someone A LOT to swallow our pride! Cherish him, girl!] [Aside from being a tsundere, he’s rich, hot, and devoted. Don’t throw him away.] True. Aside from being a drama queen, Christian was good to me. If I could tolerate this, he was an excellent boyfriend. But I refused without hesitation. “I’m handing my resignation to HR today.” He replied after a long pause: “For real?” “Fine. Don’t come begging later.” “Don’t regret throwing away a perfect relationship and career over your ego.” I buried my head in my arms and cried silently. I mourned ten years of love. I mourned the job. But I couldn’t accept being treated like this anymore. He had a black hole inside him where love should be, and he tried to fill it by torturing me. I couldn’t see a future in that darkness. Instead of endless pain, I chose to end it myself. 4 I sent the resignation email, then pulled up Julian’s contact. “Mr. Gu, is your offer still valid?” He replied instantly: “Valid. But no girlfriends of Christian Pei allowed.” Me: “Broken up. Resigned.” Julian went silent. My heart was in my throat. Did I guess right? Was he just trying to get back at Christian? A long time later, my phone pinged. Julian sent a photo of a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. “Office is ready. Want me to pick you up to see it?” I laughed and cried at the same time. How much did Julian hate Christian? I was just a mid-level manager. Did I deserve this? “Let me finish the handover first.” Him: “Skip it. Screw Christian over. Whatever the penalty is, I’ll pay.” Before I could reply, he sent another one. “Actually, never mind. Say goodbye properly. I know how breakups feel.” “Need to get drunk? Call me. Designated driver included.” I facepalmed. No wonder people said Julian Gu was eccentric and flashy. What a character. … Christian didn’t show up all afternoon. His assistant said he was escorting Bella around to every department. The CEO acting as a tour guide. A privilege I never had. When I joined, Christian had just secured his position. He didn’t want people gossiping, so we kept it secret. He asked me to understand. Christian was kidnapped as a child. We scavenged for scraps together in the slums for three years. When the Pei family found him, they had already moved on to their second son, the golden child. Christian was the awkward extra. He studied hard and worked like a maniac to gain their approval. To support him, I pretended we were strangers for two years at the company. Only after I nailed several huge projects did we go public. In contrast, Christian knew people shipped him and his “childhood friend” Bella… Yet he paraded her around without a care. The bias was unbearable. “See? I knew the CEO would marry someone of his own status. Bella entering the company is just prep for becoming Mrs. Pei.” “Some people sleep their way up and think they can become the lady of the house. Delusional.” Knowing I was leaving, colleagues who disliked me stopped whispering. I ignored the gossip. I grew up picking through trash for tuition. I was used to discrimination. HR called. She sounded awkward. “Ms. Zhou, Bella says she likes the view from your office. She wants to move in.” “So… can you pack up immediately?” Before I could answer, IT was at my desk. “Ms. Zhou, I’m here to watch you delete files. To ensure no corporate data is stolen.” He spoke loudly. Everyone stared. I looked at my computer, access already revoked, and smiled bitterly. Christian was humiliating me on purpose. Holding back tears, I numbly packed my box. I threw the gifts Christian gave me and our framed photo into the trash. Walking to the elevator, I ran into Bella holding small gift bags. And Christian, with her arm linked through his. She blocked me. “Don’t go, Chloe! Christian is treating the whole company to a Japanese buffet tonight to welcome me. Stay and eat?” Christian stood silently beside her. The comments were more agitated than I was. [The Second Female Lead is shameless! The dinner was originally booked to celebrate the FL’s promotion! The ML is just using her to provoke the FL!] [Please, girl, just give in! If you don’t turn back now, the ML is going to get drunk tonight, Bella will take him home, and once they sleep together, it’s really over!] I pushed her away. “Move. I’m busy.” She grabbed my arm. “Is it because you’re embarrassed about being dumped?” “Or because you were fired for incompetence and are running away in shame?” Looking at her arrogant face, I snapped. I backhanded her across the face. Slap. “Get lost. You’re not worthy of eating with me.” Bella screamed and threw herself into Christian’s arms. “Christian! She hit me! She’s crazy!” Christian shielded Bella, looking at me with eyes full of fire. I took a step forward. “And you.” I raised my hand to Christian. “You’re trash too.” As my hand came down, Christian caught my wrist in a vice grip, then shoved me hard. “Chloe! Stop acting like a shrew!” I slammed into the wall. Pain shot through my back. I held back the tears and stood straight. I scanned Christian’s icy face. “Mr. Pei, I slapped your little mistress. If you’re unhappy, call the cops.”

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Chapter 1 The day after the stick turned pink, Mark’s entire family descended on our house. They came bearing casseroles and unsolicited advice. They sat there, lecturing me on how to be the perfect incubator. During the chaos, Mark’s nephew, a brat named Tyler, took a shine to my dog, Buddy. He wouldn’t let go of him, squeezing him tight. He looked up at me and asked, “How old is the doggy?” I smiled, trying to be patient. “If you do the math, he’s your big brother. He’s fifteen years old.” Mark’s mom, Brenda, scowled immediately. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she snapped. “Comparing a beast to my grandson? You’ll curse the baby to come out looking like a mutt.” I bit my tongue. After lunch, I was drained. I made myself an iced latte and retreated to the bedroom to recharge. They chatted downstairs for a while. Eventually, I heard the front door close. Silence. But something felt off. Buddy usually hated when people left. Normally, I’d hear him barking at the door, or he’d come trotting in to nudge my hand for a treat. Today? Dead silence. I got up, calling his name. Nothing. I checked the living room. Empty. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I rushed to the window and looked down at the driveway. There was Tyler, sitting in the backseat of his dad’s SUV. He was holding Buddy. My blood ran cold. I tore open the window and screamed. “Put my dog down!” They all looked up. Brenda waved dismissively. She signaled her other son, Hank, to drive. “Go, go!” she mouthed. Hank actually started the engine. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I grabbed my half-finished latte and hurled it out the window with everything I had. It exploded against Hank’s windshield. A creamy brown mess blinded the glass instantly. He slammed on the brakes. Mark, standing in the driveway, looked up at me in horror. “Are you crazy?!” he yelled. I sprinted downstairs and out the front door. Brenda started yelling at me, but I ignored her. I pounded on the car window. “Unlock the door! Give me my dog!” Brenda grabbed my arm. “The kid likes the dog, just let him have it!” She looked at me like I was the unreasonable one. “You had your fun with it. You’re pregnant now, why do you need a filthy animal?” “He is fifteen years old!” I screamed. “He is not a toy for a child!” Inside the car, Hank looked at his mom, exasperated. He cracked the window just an inch. “Ma, get a rag or something for the glass. Get her to calm down.” That was it. I snapped. I took my phone and smashed it against the glass. Over. And over. And over again. “Put the dog down! He is mine! You have no right!” Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the window. Mark rushed over, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. “Have you lost your mind?” he hissed. His face was twisted in embarrassment. “You’re making a scene in front of my family.” “I’m the one making a scene?” I was shaking violently. “You’re my husband, and you let them steal my dog behind my back?” “I Googled it!” Mark yelled back. “Toxoplasmosis! Dog hair! It’s bad for the baby! I’m doing this for our child!” “Shut up! Your mouth is filthier than any dog!” Hank, worried about his precious car, finally unlocked the doors. I ripped the back door open. Tyler was clutching Buddy, wailing at the top of his lungs. “I want the doggy! Auntie, give him to me!” Chapter 2 “No!” I reached for Buddy. But the kid turned his back, shielding the dog. He looked at his parents, screaming. “I want it!” Hank’s wife, Sarah, was usually the reasonable one. She sighed. “Tyler, give the dog back to Auntie. Mommy will buy you a puppy tomorrow.” “I don’t want a puppy! I want this one!” Tyler shrieked. Brenda stepped in, clutching her chest. “You’re making my grandson cry! You’re a grown woman, fighting a child?” I swallowed my rage. I held out my hand. “Give him to me. I won’t ask again.” Tyler was sobbing, hiccupping. Buddy, poor old Buddy, licked the tears off the boy’s face. He didn’t know he was a hostage. Then, the kid snapped. He didn’t hand Buddy over. He screamed, “Fine! Take him!” And he slammed Buddy onto the asphalt. My heart stopped. I watched my fifteen-year-old dog hit the ground. He yelped. A sound of pure, sharp pain. He tried to stand, his back legs giving out, whimpering. I lost it. I grabbed Tyler by the collar and slapped him across the face. Hard. The silence was deafening. Mark stared at me, mouth open. Brenda raised her hand to strike me back. But she froze. Not because she respected me. But because of the baby in my belly. I scooped up Buddy. He was trembling, twitching in pain. Everyone rushed to comfort Tyler. Mark was cooing at him, promising him Lego sets, video games, anything to stop the tears. No one looked at the dog. I walked back into the house, tears streaming down my face. Buddy’s breathing was shallow. He was hurting so bad. I grabbed my car keys. I needed to get him to the vet immediately. Mark stormed in, blocking the doorway. “You are going to apologize to Tyler. Right now.” I looked at him, clutching my keys. I felt nothing but cold hate. “You embarrassed my mom, you hit a child… how are we supposed to have family dinners after this?” he ranted. “We aren’t,” I said calmly. “I’m taking Buddy to the vet. Then I’m going to my parents’.” “I’ll see you in court.” “I’m filing for divorce. I’m keeping the kid, and he’s taking my last name.” Mark froze. He looked like I’d spoken a foreign language. I adjusted my grip on Buddy and moved to the door. Mark grabbed my purse, ripping it off my shoulder. “Put the dog down. Go to your room.” Chapter 3 I looked at Mark, and I felt sick. Does he think he’s some alpha male in a movie? It’s funny how love dies. It doesn’t take years. It takes one second of clarity. “Keep the purse,” I said. I opened the door, holding Buddy. “You’re divorcing me over a dog?” Mark screamed. His face turned purple. “When I got 100% on my spelling test in third grade, my mom got me this dog,” I said, my voice steady. “He was there through high school. Through college. He’s been with me for fifteen years.” “I’ve known you for four.” “You’re being dramatic!” “I was standing alone against five people, and you sided with them.” “I want a man who protects his wife. You’re not him.” His jaw clenched. “Fine. Divorce. But you’re paying me back for the wedding.” “Check the joint account. I already transferred my share out.” He checked his phone. His face twisted. “You really are doing this over a mutt.” Suddenly, Mark lunged. He ripped Buddy out of my arms. And, just like his nephew, he smashed him onto the floor. Buddy screamed. He tried to crawl away, his little legs scrambling on the hardwood. But he couldn’t stand. “Get away from him!” I shoved Mark, desperate to reach my dog. Mark grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. “I’m done with your princess attitude!” “You want a divorce? Let’s make it worth it!” He dragged me into the kitchen. He grabbed a chef’s knife from the block. “Are you going to kill me?” I gasped. “I don’t hit women,” he sneered. He dragged me toward Buddy. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced my chest. “Buddy! Run!” I screamed. Buddy always listened. But he was old. And he was broken. He dragged his body toward the door, whining. Mark let go of me to close the distance. He caught up to the dog in two steps. And brought the knife down. Blood sprayed across the floor. Buddy’s body seized. Chapter 4 Mark didn’t stop. He hacked at the dog. Over. And over. “This is for your screwed-up priorities!” “This is for hitting a kid!” “This is for threatening divorce!” I watched my best friend being butchered. He wasn’t dead yet. He was suffering. “Mark, I’m going to kill you!” I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from the dining table. I smashed it over Mark’s head. Wood splintered. Blood trickled down Mark’s forehead. But he didn’t drop the knife. His eyes were wide, manic, red-rimmed. He raised the blade again. He was going to chop Buddy into pieces. I remembered my self-defense class. Go for the soft spots. I gathered every ounce of strength I had. And I kicked him squarely between the legs. Mark’s eyes bulged. He dropped the knife, clutching his groin. He collapsed to the floor, making a sound like a dying radiator. Just then, Brenda rushed in. She saw her son on the floor, bleeding. She screamed, shoving me aside. “You ruined it! You ruined everything!” she wailed, cradling Mark’s bleeding head. I crawled over to Buddy. He was quiet now. He was just… a pile of fur and blood. Mark, still gasping in pain, reached out. He grabbed Buddy’s severed head. He threw it at my feet. “Welcome to the real world, Princess,” he wheezed. “Nobody’s going to baby you anymore.” I fell to my knees. I picked up the head. It felt so light. I remembered when he used to tackle me in the yard, licking my face until I couldn’t breathe from laughing. I remembered carrying him when his arthritis got bad. “You’re getting heavy, old man,” I used to say. Now… nothing. I walked out. Mark couldn’t stop me. The kick had been too hard. He needed an ambulance. I drove to my parents’ house. Buddy was in a plastic bag on the passenger seat. On my wedding day, Buddy had sat in the limo with me.

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