Category: English

I was born a human polygraph machine. No one, not even the most seasoned manipulator, could stand before me and successfully lie. I was eight years old when the head of the group home—a man named Mr. Thompson—stood on stage, weeping into the microphone. “Funding is tight, children,” he choked out, his voice thick with fake despair. “We all need to tighten our belts. We can only afford meat once every three months from now on.” I immediately pointed a finger at his blotchy face. “That’s a load of crap!” I yelled. “You just bought your mistress a brand-new, six-figure SUV last month using the foundation’s charity funds! Did you think we wouldn’t notice?” The man’s face went from ashen to a deep, toxic purple. He was arrested for embezzlement a week later. When I was twelve, a seemingly perfect, well-dressed couple came to adopt. All the other girls were frantically pasting on their sweetest smiles, trying to look perfectly obedient. I just stared at the man. Then, I grabbed the closest thing—a broom—and slammed it down on his polished wingtip shoes. “The woman next to you isn’t your wife! She’s a paid actress!” “You’re not married, but you’re here to adopt a little girl? What kind of sick predator are you? Get out, you pervert!” The man scurried out of there, practically wetting himself. He was later apprehended and booked for a series of sickening crimes. After that, no one dared to pull any fast ones in front of me. Eventually, my birth parents, the Caldwells, came to take me back to their sprawling estate. The girl who had stolen my identity for the last two decades, Lila Reed, rushed up to me, tears welling in her impossibly wide, beautiful eyes. “Rhia, you’re finally home! This is wonderful!” she cried, clutching my hand. “We’re a family now. We have to promise to get along. No drama, okay?” I only needed one look at her face before I spoke, my voice cold and flat. “Your pupils just blew wide, your heart rate spiked—I’d guess a frantic 150—and that tiny, involuntary tremor in your right pinky? That’s pure adrenaline signaling deceit.” “Every single part of that was a lie.” “You’re happy to see me?” “Stop the theatrics, Lila. You’re trying to con a con artist.” 1 Lila’s porcelain face flushed white, then crimson, then a dangerous, angry red. “Rhia… how could you say that?” she stammered, her expression dissolving into fragile misery. “I truly am happy to have you back.” My mother immediately stepped in, wrapping an arm protectively around Lila’s shoulders, shooting me a look of deep disapproval. “Rhiannon, your language is awful! Lila is making an effort here, and you’re just being difficult and overly sensitive!” My father’s face was set in a deep scowl. “It was a nurse’s mistake twenty years ago, Rhia. Lila had nothing to do with it.” “She has been a kind, obedient, and devoted daughter to us all these years. She is a Caldwell in every way that matters.” “You were born to us; she was raised by us. We won’t choose sides. Now that you’re home, we won’t just send her away. We expect you to be the bigger person. Show some grace.” I scoffed, my eyes raking over the two strangers who were biologically my parents. “Of course Lila isn’t happy I’m back! That’s just human nature! No one likes to have their life interrupted, their title revoked.” “Unsolicited kindness is usually a cover for malice. Don’t try to play this fake, sweet-family drama in front of me. It’s making me sick.” My parents’ faces tightened with visible displeasure, their eyes betraying a carefully concealed layer of disgust. They clearly saw their biological daughter as coarse, wild, and utterly lacking in the polish of the upper class—like some street urchin they’d scraped off the curb. The House Manager, a slick man named Franklin, approached me, his demeanor overly deferential. “Miss Rhiannon, your room is ready. Everything is brand new. I assure you, you will be very comfortable.” I didn’t move. I simply watched him for two slow seconds before walking past him and into the opulent bedroom. When I re-emerged, I was holding a discreetly placed listening device and a tiny pinhole camera. “Is this what you meant by ‘comfortable,’ Franklin? Talk. Who told you to bug my room?” Franklin dropped instantly to his knees, his eyes wide with terror, then shot a desperate look toward Lila. “Miss Lila, you have to say something! You told me to—” “You’re lying!” Lila shrieked, cutting him off instantly. “Mom! Dad! He’s trying to blame me!” “How could I possibly do something like this the moment my sister gets home?” My mother was already moving to comfort Lila. My father frowned deeply, addressing me. “Rhiannon, maybe Franklin was concerned for your safety and wanted to keep an eye out for you?” “He’s served this family for twenty years. He’s earned our loyalty. This is a small thing. Don’t make a scene.” “A small thing?” I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Invading my privacy is a ‘small thing’? We can either fire him, or we can call the police. You choose.” My parents, unwilling to risk a media scandal, had Franklin pack his bags and disappear by the morning. After that, everyone in the Caldwell house treated me with hushed caution. No one dared to be two-faced again. But my parents’ expressions were even more distant, more annoyed. “You’re internally cursing me right now, aren’t you? You think I’m an absolute nightmare, a disruptive force?” I simply smiled, completely uncaring. “Good. That’s who I am. Get used to it.” 2 That evening, Preston Mills, the man I was promised to since birth, arrived at the house. The Caldwell and Mills families were old money, long-time associates. But while the Caldwells had flourished, the Mills fortune had shrunk. Fortunately, my parents weren’t completely mercenary; they hadn’t broken the engagement, and Dad had even given Preston a seat as an independent director at the Caldwell Group. Preston was handsome and polished, his face fixed in a flawlessly charming, gentle smile. “Rhia, welcome home. When should we set the date?” he said, stepping forward. “I promise you, I will make you the happiest woman in the world.” I crossed my arms and slowly appraised him. “Your cadence is steady, like an AI narrator—completely devoid of real emotion. You subtly adjusted your cufflink before shaking hands, a classic sign of over-compensating for internal anxiety.” “Preston, the deception level of those few sentences is hovering at about 99%. I think the only thing that wasn’t a lie was the period at the end.” I wasn’t in the mood to spar. “There’s no need to force this. A strong marriage needs more than a family contract. You can’t squeeze juice from a rock.” I glanced at Lila, who was conspicuously listening in, her ears practically perked up. “You and Lila are clearly more familiar with each other. I won’t steal your thunder. I’m giving the engagement to her.” A sudden, brilliant flicker of naked desire and hope flashed in Lila’s eyes as she turned expectantly toward Preston. Preston’s face tightened for a fraction of a second, but then he quickly shifted his gaze back to me, his tone suddenly resolute, utterly sincere. “Rhia, you misunderstand! I meant every word I just said! They came straight from the heart.” “Lila is like a sister to me, nothing more. I have never felt anything romantic for her. It’s you I’m falling for. We were betrothed at birth—this is fate!” He grew more animated, even reaching out to grab my hand. “To be honest, before you even came home, I used to dream about a girl. Her face, her profile… it was exactly like yours! This is destiny, Rhia…” I dodged his clammy reach and picked up the hot cup of Earl Grey tea on the side table. Without a second thought, I tossed the contents right in his face. “Shut up! Those cheesy lines are so old I nearly choked on my own spit!” “Stop using your canned, manipulative lines on me. I don’t buy the fantasy.” Preston, spluttering and soaked, immediately backed away, his suave performance shattered. Lila glared at me, her eyes burning with a hateful, poisonous jealousy. Yet, despite my blatant rejection and hostility, Preston still insisted on marrying me. This man was persistent, and behind that persistence, there was clearly something rotten. Luckily, I had a contingency plan. Why didn’t I call the police on Franklin the House Manager? Not out of mercy, but because I needed him. Though he was gone, I knew he had allies in the staff. I’d given him a hefty payment to have his contacts discreetly plant a micro-camera and a listening device in Lila’s room. This was an eye for an eye. Sure enough, that night, a shifty-eyed Preston snuck into Lila’s bedroom. The couple immediately fell into a furious tangle, the massive bed shaking violently. Afterward, the dogs started plotting. “Preston, baby, you don’t love me anymore, do you? Why are you still trying to marry that freak?” Preston chuckled, a cold, snake-like sound. “Of course I love you.” “But Rhiannon is the official heir to the Caldwell fortune. I have to marry her first, get the family’s assets firmly in my grasp!” “Once I have the papers signed, I’ll dump her instantly! Then, the entire Caldwell empire, and you, will be mine!” “Lila, you won’t feel guilty, will you? Once it’s done, not only will Rhiannon be out, but I’ll make sure your adoptive parents are dealt with too!” “Total cleanup. No loose ends.” Lila nestled against his chest, her voice laced with greed and venom. “Of course not! I hate those old fools!” “This was all supposed to be mine! Who is Rhiannon to come back and steal it? They never should have found her! I hate every single person in this family!” I listened to their vicious planning, a cold smile forming on my lips. Trying to run a con on a human lie detector? Game on.

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Before the SATs, the tech billionaire heir was dumped by the school’s Prom Queen in the harshest way possible. I was sitting nearby, gnawing on dry ramen, and leaned in toward him while he stared blankly at his textbooks. “I look like her. Want to date me instead to make her jealous?” He was silent for a moment, then handed me the bouquet of roses meant for her. I took his money with a clear conscience. I demanded a hundred thousand a month. He didn’t say a word. He wired me two hundred thousand. After we got married, he fulfilled his marital duties four times a week like clockwork—punctual, efficient, excellent service. Everyone said Julian Thorne had found true love. Until one day, his assistant whispered to me: “That new secretary Julian hired? Rumor has it she was the Prom Queen back in the day. “Ma’am, Mr. Thorne seems very fond of her. He even gave her your favorite lounge…” 1 I went after Julian Thorne for one reason: money. He was a hopeless romantic, the kind who showered his girlfriends with cash. While I was starving and surviving on instant noodles, I envied the Prom Queen, Sarah, who wore $200,000 diamond earrings before she even graduated high school. I couldn’t understand why she dumped a billionaire like Julian to run off with some broke scholarship kid. So when Sarah slapped Julian and stormed off, I blocked her path at the classroom door. “Did you guys really break up?” She looked at my worn-out thrift store clothes with disdain and shook off my hand. “Yeah. We’re done.” “Can I chase him then?” She looked me up and down, laughing out loud. “Sure, go ahead. If you actually land him, I’ll give you these earrings.” I stared at the $200,000 earrings Julian had given her and nodded. But at the post-graduation party, when she saw Julian walk in with me on his arm, her smile froze. When Julian went to the restroom, she requested a song for me. The lyrics were all about “cheating sluts.” The room went silent, everyone staring at me. “Bunny, you’re pathetic,” Sarah sneered. I knew exactly what Julian saw me as. But I still popped a bottle of champagne and poured the entire thing over Sarah’s head. Then I snatched the earrings off her. “A bet is a bet. If you didn’t want me to date him, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to that broke guy.” “Bunny Lin!” Sarah screamed and lunged at me, but a strong hand pulled me behind a broad back. Julian took the slap meant for me. He dragged me out of the club and didn’t say a word all night. I figured his heart still ached for her. I knew my place perfectly. I quietly followed Sarah’s Instagram. Every time she posted a new outfit, I bought the same one. I’d wear it on the nights we had sex. Every time he saw me wearing Sarah’s style, the emotion in his eyes was unreadable. I knew he secretly checked her Instagram too. Looking at me was like looking at a ghost of his past love. My best friend, Chloe, was furious for me. “You’re his wife! Not her shadow!” But I thought it was fine. I asked for $100k a month; he sent $200k. I got greedy and asked for $300k. He sent $500k. Who cares about love when you live like this? I came from a home with no love and no money. If there was a chance to get rich, I’d grab it, dignity be damned. While Julian was still interested, I had to play my part well. On our first anniversary, Sarah updated her Instagram. She got a butterfly tattoo on her neck. I cried from the pain but spent ten hours getting the exact same tattoo. When Julian walked out of the shower and saw the tattoo peeking out from my purple lace slip, he froze while drying his hair. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” “Don’t do that again.” He showed no interest in my butterfly. “And throw away all your purple clothes.” My heart sank. Purple was Sarah’s favorite color. Did he get tired of me cosplaying his “one that got away”? Was my job as a substitute ending? “I mean, it hurts,” he said, flicking my forehead. “Even if you don’t copy her, I’ll still give you money.” The next day, the maid took away all my purple clothes. I hated purple anyway. The maid filled my closet with elegant black dresses. I touched the expensive fabric— Wait, did Julian know I liked black? But if I didn’t imitate Sarah, how would I keep my job? So, I tested the waters and asked Julian for $800k. He gave me a black card. No limit. Customized with “Mrs. Thorne.” While shopping with Chloe, she asked curiously, “Didn’t you say you’d do five years, grab the cash, and run? The five years are almost up. When are you divorcing him?” I stared at a baby outfit in the window and fell silent. 2 I had been Julian’s substitute for five years. I didn’t know what loving someone was supposed to look like. I only remembered that before my mom left with another man, the thing she did that made me happiest was knitting me a scarf. Now my fingers were covered in band-aids, and the scarf was finished. But Julian didn’t seem to need it anymore. Because today was our scheduled “couple’s night,” and he was thirty minutes late. I fell asleep waiting on the couch. I was kissed awake. “Sorry, the partners added some last-minute clauses. I’m late.” Julian unbuttoned his shirt, his breath hot but controlled. For the first time, I pushed him away. “When are you planning to divorce me?” His breath hitched. “What are you talking about?” I looked up at him. “I know she’s back. You even gave her my favorite lounge at the office. “I checked. My access card doesn’t work for that room anymore.” His muscles tensed. “Julian, don’t overthink it. I won’t cling to you. I don’t want a huge settlement, just give me…” He was already on his phone, his tone colder than I’d ever heard. “Secretary? What secretary? “And what about the lounge? “Do personnel changes happen without my approval now?” On the other end, the HR director’s voice trembled. “Mr. Thorne, she showed us photos of you two dating in high school. She said the Madam stole her man… “Mrs. Thorne does look like Ms. Sarah, and those photos were definitely of you, sir. We thought it was your instruction…” Julian’s expression was icy. “Blacklist Sarah from the entire industry. I want Mrs. Thorne’s access to the lounge restored in one hour. “And you—go to finance and pick up your severance check.” The HR director tried to explain, but Julian hung up. I looked at him in shock. He turned and hugged me, kissing me hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I haven’t been at headquarters these past few days…” I believed him. He was always flying around the world. But no matter how far he went, he never missed our four nights a week. I was still unsure, gripping his shirt tight. “Blacklisting your ‘one that got away’? Aren’t you afraid she’ll be heartbroken?” “What ‘one that got away’?” His kisses made me breathless. “I only have you.” “Are you… confessing?” “Yes.” “Then, Julian.” I hugged him back fiercely. “Who am I to you?” He paused, then kissed me even deeper. “My wife. The boss.” My body trembled. “Then I’m really going to act like the boss from now on.” “You always should have.” That night, neither of us slept. 3 My knitting skills improved. I unraveled the old scarf and made a bigger, warmer one. But Chloe sent me a video. In the clip, Julian was leaving a mansion in the Hamptons after a meeting. He walked past Sarah, holding a black umbrella. Since being blacklisted, she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t even pay rent. She was soaked, her purple dress clinging to her skin, outlining her curves. She looked at him through teary eyes in the wind. “Julian…” Sarah’s voice trembled. Julian paused for a split second. Then he walked past her without looking back. “Julian! Have you forgotten everything we had?!” Sarah screamed, but Julian didn’t turn around. I breathed a sigh of relief. He knew his duty. But I underestimated Sarah’s resolve. The storm raged all night. She stood downstairs all night. Until she collapsed. A black umbrella appeared in my view. Sarah struggled to open her eyes, looking up at the person holding the umbrella. Julian was dry, his pale face emotionless. But the umbrella tilted gently toward Sarah. Julian flew back to New York the next day as planned. But he gave that Hamptons mansion to Sarah. “Bunny, what do we do? Julian never spends money on anyone but his woman!” I thought for a moment. “Since he says I’m his wife, I’ll handle this the way his wife should.” That same day, Sarah was kicked out of the mansion. And that day, Julian didn’t come home. It was the first time since our marriage that he missed our night. I called him a dozen times. He didn’t answer. The next day, he came home looking exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot. “Did you order Sarah to be kicked out?” I didn’t dodge. “Yes.” “Who gave you the right to be unreasonable?” I was shocked by the accusation in his tone. I looked up. “You mean, as your wife, I should tolerate your ex-girlfriend living in our property?” Julian didn’t speak. He just threw his phone at me with a video playing. On the screen, Sarah was being dragged into an alley by a group of men, her purple dress torn to shreds. Julian’s voice trembled. “If I hadn’t arrived in time, Sarah would have been raped!” I looked at the video coldly. “What do you want me to do?” “Go to the hospital. Apologize to Sarah.” “Julian.” I pushed the phone back. “I will not apologize to a mistress.” “Mistress?” Julian seemed surprised I used that word. A sneer I’d never seen before curled his lips. “If we’re really keeping score, you’re the mistress, aren’t you?” My breath stopped. He ignored my shock and stormed out. The door slammed for the first time. I sat alone on the couch until late at night. Messages from friends kept popping up on my phone: [Bunny! What’s going on? Why is Julian skipping meetings to stay at the hospital with another woman?] [They say she’s Julian’s first love. Is it true?] [Bunny, get to the hospital! Your husband is slipping away!] I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I packed my bags and waited for Julian to return three days later. He saw my suitcase and chuckled lightly. “What’s this? Playing the runaway wife?” I handed him the divorce papers. “Let’s divorce. I don’t want the settlement money.” His hand, holding a tea cup, froze. 4 He flipped through the agreement page by page, his expression serious. His hands were trembling slightly. “Divorce? Who’s going to give you that kind of money?” “Thanks to you, Mr. Thorne, I won’t starve.” He paused. “Fine. Divorce. But you have to return every cent I spent on you.” I froze. Five years as a substitute… I had spent a decent amount. Seeing me hesitate, Julian’s smile relaxed a bit. “It’s okay if you can’t pay it back. As long as we don’t divorce…” “Done.” He blinked. I am someone deeply insecure about money. No matter how much I had, I never spent recklessly. Even with nine figures in my account, when Julian wasn’t around, I ate ramen with two eggs. Five years. Income: hundreds of millions. Expenses: two million. I handed him my bank card, then felt around and took off the $200,000 earrings. That covered the rest. “I won these earrings from Sarah in a bet, so they’re technically mine. Here. That settles it.” I took Julian’s hand and placed the earrings in his palm. As I turned to leave, he dropped the earrings and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go!” “I didn’t really mean for you to pay me back!” The eloquent CEO was suddenly speechless. “Julian, stop blocking me…” I was impatient, but when I turned around, I froze. A tear hit the back of my hand. I stared at him in disbelief. “You… are crying?” “I’m sorry.” His eyes were red. “Don’t do this to me.” I had never seen a man like him cry. If the paparazzi caught this, Thorne Corp’s stock would plummet. So I sat down and listened to his explanation. Turns out, he hadn’t been at the hospital these past few days. He asked his friends to send those provoking messages because he thought I had arranged for those men to assault Sarah. He couldn’t accept that I would do something like that. I could kick her out, but I couldn’t be ruthless enough to have a gang of men violate another woman. But he still took Sarah to the hospital and visited her. Because he didn’t want me to get sued. “Calling you a mistress… I was just angry. I’m sorry.” Julian’s eyes were red. I was silent for a moment. “Julian, you really hurt me this time.” Pain flashed in his eyes. “But I can give you one chance.” His eyes lit up. “Julian, I want you to cut all ties with Sarah. Send her away. Far away.” “Okay…” He gripped my hand tight, like he was holding onto a lost treasure. “I promise.”

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I’m the C-list model the entire internet loves to hate, yet somehow, I’m the one who officially bagged the A-list Movie Star. Right now, the production crew has installed hidden cameras all over our house for a livestream. The catch? I have absolutely no idea. On the screen, Liam Sterling walks up to me, looking cold and annoyed. “Are you reading that novel again?” The chat room goes wild with hate comments. “Chloe Hart is always staging these fake lovey-dovey moments. Finally, her true colors are showing.” “Liam looks so done with her.” Liam’s parents and his younger sister are glued to their phones, watching the stream. “If Chloe is really as trashy as the tabloids say,” his mother mutters, “we have to make them break up, by any means necessary.” But in the living room, unaware of the millions watching, I don’t act like the doting girlfriend everyone expects. I shove the Hollywood heartthrob away impatiently. “Move. You’re blocking my light.” Liam stumbles back a step. Instead of getting mad, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a pathetic, puppy-dog whine. “Is my Chlo-Chlo sick of me already?” … 1 The day I went public with Liam Sterling, the internet tried to bury me alive. I trended on Twitter for three days straight—and not in a good way. “What is happening? I’ve been shipping Liam and Tessa for years! How is this real?” “Chloe Hart has no shame. She knows Liam and Tessa Lane are childhood sweethearts, yet she still wedged herself in there!” My boyfriend, Liam, is the youngest actor to ever win Best Actor at the Oscars. Tessa Lane is America’s Sweetheart, the top pop star and actress. They grew up together. They filmed together. Liam, usually a recluse, even went on variety shows just for her. They were the Nation’s Power Couple. Until I, the “manipulative gold-digger,” ruined everything. On the day of our announcement, Tessa was interviewed on set. With a brave smile, she said, “Liam and Chloe are… well, I’m sure they’re happy.” Then she turned around, and a single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. The paparazzi caught it in 4K. The internet exploded. They claimed I used dirty tactics to trap him. They said his family hated me. To be fair, they weren’t entirely wrong. Liam’s parents are old-money business tycoons. They’ve always been cold to me. His sister, Lily, is a high schooler who refuses to say my name, referring to me only as “that Instagram model.” There’s even a Twitter account called “Did Liam Dump Chloe Today?” that tracks my every move. But honestly? I didn’t care. Liam and I were solid. He was killing it in Hollywood. I had my own modeling gigs—my “villain” reputation actually got me more bookings. I had a hot guy in my bed and money in the bank. Why would I care what strangers thought? I just stayed offline. I just didn’t expect them to hate me this much. Apparently, Liam’s agent booked him for a “Day in the Life” livestream to promote his new movie. Liam agreed. He just forgot to tell me. So, while I was lounging on the sofa in an oversized, ratty T-shirt, the cameras started rolling. 2 “That model doesn’t know about the livestream… what if she says something stupid and ruins Liam’s career?” Lily Sterling stared anxiously at her phone screen. Liam had just come back from a long shoot. He waved briefly at the camera, then ignored it. The chat, however, was on fire. “I can’t believe we get to see inside Liam’s house!” “Do you think Chloe will show up?” “God, I hope not. My eyes can’t handle the trash.” “Don’t worry, guys. This stream will expose her. We’ll finally see what a nightmare she is!” Liam’s parents were watching, too. “If she really is as awful as the rumors say,” his dad grumbled, “we need to intervene.” They didn’t know me well. They respected Liam’s choices, but the rumors were getting to them. “This is a good opportunity,” his mom added. “We’ll see the truth.” Totally oblivious, I walked through the front door, kicked off my heels, showered, and flopped onto the sofa in my bathrobe to read. Liam walked out of the bedroom, poured a glass of water, and stood over me. I knew he was there, but the plot twist in my book was getting spicy, so I ignored him. When I didn’t acknowledge him, he reached out and flicked my bangs. “Are you reading that novel again?” The comments section flooded the screen so fast you couldn’t see the video. “If I were Liam, working hard all day, I’d be pissed if my girlfriend ignored me.” “Does she not know who pays the bills? Show some respect to the sugar daddy.” “Her free ride is over. Just watch, he’s going to dump her live.” Everyone expected me to apologize or grovel. After all, I was the “lucky” one, right? Without looking up, I shoved him. “Move. You’re blocking my light.” Liam frowned. His bottom lip jutted out slightly. “Is my Chlo-Chlo sick of me already?” … The chat room went dead silent. Lily felt dizzy. She rubbed her eyes. What the hell? Did I just see my stoic, ice-cold brother… pout? Gross. 3 I sensed the dip in his mood immediately. I looked up. His face was inches from mine. I could see myself in his amber eyes. I tried to push his chest, but he was like a brick wall. And he was running hot. I knew the signs. Liam was having one of his “episodes.” Since we started dating, he couldn’t handle being ignored. If I zoned out, he would do this—stare at me like a statue until I paid attention. He puts on a good show for the public. The perfect gentleman. The unshakeable star. But it’s all a mask. Underneath, he’s a needy, clingy mess. It was annoying, but easy to fix. A kiss. A hug. That’s all it took to reset him to “Cool Movie Star” mode. I sighed, put down the book, wrapped my arms around his arm, and rested my head on his shoulder. “How could I ever be sick of my handsome hubby?” Liam’s ears turned pink. He pushed me away gently and turned his head, refusing to look at me. The chat was confused. “Um… what is wrong with Liam?” “Is he… throwing a tantrum?” “This has to be scripted. Remember when Tessa tried to hug him and he dodged her? He hates clingy people.” “Poor Liam, acting is hard work.” “Okay, but why is his face so red?” 4 The internet was convinced this was some meta-acting performance. Lily wasn’t so sure. She knew her brother. He had boundaries. He wouldn’t degrade himself like this for traffic. And honestly, she couldn’t believe he agreed to the livestream in the first place. “Is that a body double?” Liam’s dad asked, bewildered. Liam had always been mature beyond his years. Seeing him blush and flirt was breaking their brains. “I can’t watch this,” a commenter wrote. “It makes me sick seeing a homewrecker this happy.” “Justice for Tessa! Chloe isn’t fit to tie her shoes!” 5 Liam was still being awkward. I knew he’d get over it, so I went back to my book. But he wouldn’t let me be. He tugged my sleeve. He poked my cheek. I swatted his hand away. He did it again. Finally, I snapped. I grabbed a pillow and stood up. “Where are you going?” he asked, panic in his voice. “Somewhere else. You’re being annoying.” “I’m annoying?” He looked devastated. I didn’t answer. I marched toward the bedroom. “Wait… Liam is actually a clingy boyfriend?” “Why does it feel like he loves her way more than she loves him?” “Don’t be fooled by Chloe’s fans! She’s manipulating him!” “Okay, but their house is actually cute. I thought Liam lived in a minimalist museum.” Lily had never been to this house. The family mansion was cold and gray. But this place? Warm lighting, throw pillows, and an entire wall covered in Polaroids. The camera zoomed in. They were all photos of Liam and Chloe. In every single one, Liam was smiling like an idiot. Lily felt a weird pang in her chest. She had never seen her brother look that happy.

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Driving out to check on the new condo, a woman with too much makeup and a tight dress suddenly darted into the street, slamming her hands on the hood of our Range Rover. She kicked the metal—a harsh, gut-churning thud—and screamed for me to get out. I was reaching for my phone, ready to call 911, but Rhys was faster. He fumbled with his seatbelt, threw his door open, and practically lunged out, stripping off his expensive suit jacket to drape over her shoulders. “Honey, it’s freezing out here. Why would you run out dressed like that?” I tried to push my door open, desperate to understand what was happening, but Rhys’s hand shot out, pressing hard against the frame. “Don’t come out! You’ll freak her out, she’s sensitive!” The woman, nestled into his chest, pointed a crimson nail at my face. “Listen up, old baggage! Rhys promised this loft to me! Who are you to tell us what to do? Get lost. His money and his heart? They’ve been mine for ages!” At that, I couldn’t help but smile. His money? What an amusing mistress. Let the games begin. 1 Rhys Harrington was rubbing her back, trying to calm her down, when he twisted his head to look at me. “Lilah, honey, just drive the car away. I’ll come back later and explain everything.” I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the man who had once sworn to love me forever, now shielding his mistress with a panicked, protective care. My heart felt like a massive, icy hand had just squeezed it, stopping the breath in my chest. Three years ago, I almost died giving birth to his child—a difficult delivery that resulted in a major hemorrhage and left me paralyzed. I spent three grueling years in Europe undergoing intensive nerve therapy. The moment I could stand unassisted, I came home. I hadn’t been back long, and this was the homecoming gift Rhys had prepared. I didn’t drive away. I pushed the door open and stepped out. Rhys was clearly surprised, freezing mid-motion. The woman, Tiffany Price, didn’t flinch when I approached. She pulled away from Rhys and strutted toward me, chin held high. Up close, she was impossibly young, her face plump with unearned collagen, but her eyes were pinpricks of pure greed. “What are you looking at? Three years of paralysis and you still couldn’t kick the bucket. You’ve got nerve.” She sneered, running her eyes up and down my body. “Look at you. You can walk, sure, but I can smell the hospital and the medication from two feet away. Rhys has to act like he still wants you every day. I feel sorry for him.” My hand shot out before my brain could stop it. CRACK! The sound was sharp and clean. The world went silent. Rhys froze. Tiffany froze. “You… you hit me?” Tiffany’s hands flew to her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I did.” I shook my hand out, my voice flat. “Dirty mouth. Consider it an education your parents failed to provide.” “Rhys! She hit me! Look what she did!” Tiffany’s composure shattered. She wailed, throwing herself back into Rhys’s arms like she’d been mortally wounded. Rhys’s eyes were filled with instant, gut-wrenching pity. He gripped her tight and spun around, glaring at me. “Lilah Shaw! Have you lost your mind? Tiffany is just a kid! How dare you lay a hand on her?” “A kid?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “A kid who crawls into a married man’s bed? Rhys, your taste is truly unique.” Tiffany shrieked and tried to lunge at me, but Rhys took one look at my cold, mocking face, sighed, and bent down, scooping her up in his arms. “She’s not stable right now. I’m taking her away. I will come home and explain everything to you later!” With that, he carried Tiffany to a waiting cab and sped off, never looking back. He left me standing on the side of the road, next to the car with the dented hood, as strangers gathered, pointing and filming. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing back the sting behind my eyes. That’s when my phone rang. I looked at the unfamiliar number and answered. “Hello, old baggage.” Tiffany’s voice, now triumphant, crackled through the speaker. “You saw it, didn’t you? Rhys cares about me. You’re smart enough to disappear and be a silent partner, or I swear, I will find ways to make your life a living hell!” I hung up without a word. I called a tow truck, sent the Range Rover to the dealership, and took a cab back to the Harrington estate. My in-laws were watching TV in the sprawling living room. They barely reacted when I walked in. “Dad. Mom,” I said. My mother-in-law didn’t even look up. “You’re back? Where’s Rhys? Didn’t he come with you?” “He went to comfort Tiffany Price,” I stated plainly. The air in the room became instant crystal. My father-in-law lowered his newspaper. My mother-in-law finally turned her head to face me. There was no shock on their faces—only a mild, detached annoyance. “Oh, that girl,” my mother-in-law said, casually flicking a speck of dust off her manicured nail. “Rhys mentioned her. She’s a lively young thing.” My heart didn’t just sink; it shattered. They knew. The entire family knew, and I had been the only fool. “Mom, Rhys is cheating. You’ve known this?” I asked. She frowned, clearly offended by my choice of words. “Cheating? Don’t be so dramatic, Lilah. Men have needs; it’s just part of doing business. Besides, you were away for three years. Do you know how hard it was for Rhys to hold this family together alone? What’s wrong with having a companion who offers a bit of comfort?” “As long as he keeps her out of the house and doesn’t touch your position as his wife, you need to turn a blind eye. This marriage is an alliance between two powerful families, dear. Business is always the priority.” My father-in-law chimed in, “She’s right, Lilah. Be the bigger person. Don’t cause trouble over something so trivial.” Trivial? The bigger person? Looking at their two cold, judgmental faces, I felt a wave of nausea. I didn’t want to waste another word. “Understood,” I replied. I turned and left them in their opulent silence. If they wanted to talk about business, then we would talk about business. I immediately sent a text to Dean: Dean, I need you to run a deep dive on Rhys Harrington’s asset transfers and the full background of a woman named Tiffany Price. Yesterday. Dean Foster was my late mother’s most trusted lawyer, and the only person in the world I could rely on completely. Rhys finally walked in around ten that night. He opened the bedroom door, saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, and paused. He walked over, collapsing onto the velvet armchair opposite me. The tension in the room was thick and suffocating. He hunched over, rubbing his face with his hands, the picture of guilt and remorse. “Lilah, I’m sorry.” It was the first thing he said. I looked at him, and flashed back to him at eighteen, clean-cut and earnest, declaring his love for me on the university quad. The man across from me was a stranger. “Sorry for what?” I asked. “I’m sorry to you,” his voice was raspy. “The last three years, it’s been exhausting. Tiffany… she gives me something different. She’s not so, well, strong like you. She needs me, Lilah. She makes me feel like a man again.” Strong? I nearly burst out laughing. I had given up my post-graduate studies and devoted myself to his career, content to be the woman behind the man. I almost died having his child. And in his eyes, I had become too strong. “And that’s your justification for cheating?” Rhys lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed. “I couldn’t help it! I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt Tiffany. I love you both; I can’t let either of you go.” “I’ve thought this through. I’ll make it up to you, double everything you’ve suffered. Tiffany doesn’t want the title; she just wants to be near me. I swear I will balance things out and make sure you are never disrespected.” Listen to the sheer poetry of it. He wanted his cake and his mistress too. He was dreaming. “Rhys, we need to divorce,” I said, my voice steady. “If you can’t choose, I’ll choose for you.” Rhys shot up from the armchair, his face a mask of horror. “Divorce? Absolutely not! I will never divorce you!” “I married you, and I will be responsible for you for life! Besides, you were paralyzed because you were having my child! If I divorce you, I’ll be crucified in the media!” “And don’t forget, our partnership with the Sterling Group is at a critical stage! If we divorce now, the stock will tank! Can’t you be reasonable?” Watching his desperate, cornered reaction, I felt nothing but mockery. He didn’t care about my heart; he cared about his reputation and his stock portfolio. “So what’s the plan? Keep the official flag flying at home while keeping the side show running?” “If you just stop making a scene, we can make this work!” Rhys pleaded, rushing to convince me. “Tiffany is simple; she won’t threaten your status. You just have to pretend she doesn’t exist…” Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Rhys glanced at the screen, and his face instantly changed. He didn’t even acknowledge me as he answered and bolted for the door. “Hello, babe? What is it? You had a nightmare? Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m on my way right now…” The door slammed shut with a final, echoing thud. I walked to the window and watched Rhys’s car speed away from the mansion. He would drop everything, at any time, for her. Perfect. Rhys Harrington, since you broke the contract of our marriage, you can’t blame me for breaking the contract of our business. I was getting divorced. But before that, I was going to make him and that “simple” Tiffany pay the price. The next morning, I went to Harrington Industries. Although I hadn’t stepped foot in the building in three years, I still held twenty percent of the company’s shares and maintained a seat on the board. The receptionist nearly fainted when she saw me, immediately calling the CEO’s office. I ignored the curious stares and went straight to the finance department. My first order of business: an audit. The Chief Financial Officer stammered out that no one was allowed to view the books without Mr. Harrington’s explicit signature. Expected. Rhys had been treating me like a thief for months. I didn’t argue. I left the building and went to the nearest high-end shopping center. If I couldn’t audit his books, I’d start by bleeding his wallet. In the jewelry store, I picked out a new emerald necklace, priced at two hundred and ninety thousand dollars. Normally, I would have considered it too expensive, but today, it felt too cheap. “I’ll take it,” I told the sales associate, handing her my black card. It was an unlimited-spending titanium card Rhys had given me on our fifth anniversary. The associate’s smile was professional and wide as she took the card. A few seconds later, the smile froze. “Ma’am… I’m terribly sorry, the card was declined.” “What?” I stared at her. “It says ‘Insufficient Funds,’” she whispered, handing it back with trembling hands. Insufficient funds? An unlimited card? The only explanation was that Rhys had either capped the main account or, more likely, canceled my access to the secondary card. Rhys Harrington! He had actually cut me off! As I stood there, stunned, the click of expensive heels echoed across the marble floor. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the former Mrs. Harrington. What’s the matter, can’t afford it?” Tiffany, carrying a brand-new Hermès bag, sashayed over. She was dripping in new custom-made clothes and jewelry, looking impeccably styled. Next to her, my slightly dated trench coat suddenly felt shabby. “Kevin, bag that necklace up for me, and those rings over there, and the diamond bracelet.” Tiffany waved her hand dismissively, not even looking at the price tags. The sales associate immediately ditched me and ran to her new high-roller. “Miss Price, you have excellent taste! Those are all new arrivals! The total is five hundred and eighty-eight thousand dollars.” Tiffany didn’t blink. She pulled a black card out of her Hermès bag and handed it over. It was exactly the same card as mine. “Run it,” she commanded, lifting her chin to look at me, her eyes glinting with malice. “A man’s heart follows his money, honey. Some people walk around waving a canceled credit card and pretending to be a wealthy wife. So sad.” I scoffed, pulled out my own phone, and dialed 911. “Hello, Police? I’d like to report a major theft. Someone is using my husband’s stolen card to fraudulently purchase millions of dollars in jewelry.” “The address is the ground floor jewelry store at the Starling Mall. The thief is still on the premises. Please hurry.” I hung up and looked Tiffany dead in the eye. Tiffany paused for a moment, then burst into a cackle of laughter. “You called the police? You actually called the police on me? Mrs. Harrington, have you finally lost your mind? Rhys gave me this card! I’m spending my man’s money; it’s perfectly legal! What are the cops going to do?” She wasn’t scared. She was even more arrogant. She called Rhys. “Honey! Your old hag has gone crazy! She called the cops on me! She’s saying I stole your card! Get over here right now! I want you to slap her face yourself! If I don’t see you in twenty minutes, I’m done with you!” The police arrived quickly. Two officers walked in, looking serious. “Who called 911?” “I did,” I stepped forward. “Officers, this woman is currently using my husband’s card without my permission.” Tiffany, still admiring a pair of earrings, rolled her eyes at the police. “Officers, don’t listen to this crazy woman. My boyfriend gave me this card.” The officer looked at me. “What is your relationship to the cardholder?” I pulled up my electronic marriage license. “I am Rhys Harrington’s legal wife. The cardholder, Rhys Harrington, and I are still legally married. I have never authorized this woman to use our joint marital assets.” The two officers exchanged a look; their expressions turned complex. “Ma’am, we need you to present identification and accompany us to the station for questioning,” the officer told Tiffany. “I’m not going! You can’t arrest me!” Tiffany slammed the card onto the counter. “You’ll see when my boyfriend gets here! He’s going to call your Chief of Police!” Just then, Rhys burst through the door, out of breath. He didn’t even glance at me, rushing straight to Tiffany and pulling her into his arms. “Tiff, are you okay? They didn’t touch you, did they?” With her rock behind her, Tiffany’s confidence soared. “Rhys! Finally! This witch brought the police to arrest me! She says I stole your card and wants me to go to jail! You better tell them who I am!” Rhys’s face darkened with rage. He spun around, glaring at me. “Lilah Shaw! Have you made enough of a scene? I told you I would handle this! Did you have to blow it up like this? Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Embarrassed?” I gave a cold laugh. “Rhys, who should be embarrassed? You used our marital funds to support a mistress, then canceled my card so she could charge six figures. Do you have any shame?” More and more onlookers had gathered, pointing and gossiping. Rhys, clearly humiliated, hissed at me under his breath, “What marital funds! That’s my money! I’ll spend it on who I want! Now shut your mouth!” He turned back to the police, forcing a smile. “Officers, this is all a misunderstanding. I did give my girlfriend this card. It’s not theft. It’s just a domestic dispute; we can handle it ourselves.” “Girlfriend?” the officer frowned at him. “This woman says you are legally married.” Rhys’s face froze. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We’re… we’re filing for divorce. It’s in progress.” “You’re still married until the papers are signed,” the officer said sternly. “Since the cardholder is claiming it was willingly given, it’s not technically theft. However, Mr. Harrington, since you are not divorced, large transfers of marital assets can be challenged. I suggest you deal with this through your lawyers.” Hearing this, Tiffany shot out from behind Rhys and lunged at me, trying to scratch my face. “You b*tch! You called the police on me! I’ll scratch that smug look off your face!” I was ready, dodging her initial attack and aiming a retaliatory slap. But I forgot Rhys was there. The moment my arm swung out, Rhys grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging in hard. “Lilah Shaw! You’re going to hit her again? Who do you think you are?” He shoved me hard. Wearing heels, I lost my balance and crashed backward into a glass jewelry display. A sharp, searing pain shot through my lower back. I bit back a cry. Seeing her chance, Tiffany rushed forward, long nails raking across my face. “I’ll ruin your face! Then no man will ever look at you again!” Tear— My cheek burned. Rhys didn’t stop her. He held me pinned against the counter, allowing Tiffany to vent her rage. “That’s enough, Tiff. Don’t hurt your hand.” In that moment, the last flicker of hope in my heart was extinguished forever. The police finally intervened, pulling them apart. “That’s enough! Fighting in front of police officers! You’re all coming with us!” At the station, Tiffany immediately played the victim, claiming I filed a false police report and that I was the aggressor. She demanded to press charges for assault and battery. Her face didn’t even have a red mark, but my cheek was bleeding from three deep scratches. Rhys, however, stood with her. He pointed at me and told the police, “Officers, it’s true, my wife initiated the physical contact. You saw it. If I hadn’t stopped her, she probably would have given Tiffany a concussion.” I looked at him, utterly disgusted. “Rhys Harrington, you’ll sell your own soul to protect a cheap mistress.” Rhys avoided my gaze, lowering his voice. “Lilah, stop. If Tiffany has a record, it will ruin her life. You go in for a few days, cool off, and we’ll drop the whole thing.” The police officers looked like they wanted to argue on my behalf, but I shook my head at them. Then, I looked straight at Rhys. “Rhys Harrington, I hope you never regret this.” Based on Rhys’s testimony and my refusal to defend myself, I was charged with disturbing the peace and held for seven days of administrative detention. As they led me away, I watched Rhys. He was cradling Tiffany’s hand—the one she’d used to scratch me—and gently blowing on her fingers. In my heart, I started a silent countdown. Rhys. Your perfect life is about to end.

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On a reality TV show, the host asked us to reveal the most immoral thing we’d ever done. I gave a shy smile. “When I was a kid, my best friend and I stole all of her brother’s pants and hid them.” The other guests looked intrigued, pressing for the aftermath. The Film Emperor sitting next to me smiled elegantly and chimed in, “And later, she turned around and provoked me, threatening to strip my pants off with her own hands.” I froze. My brain completely short-circuited. 1 I owed a favor to a producer, which is how I ended up as a filler guest on this variety show. In the first episode, the icebreaker question was about our “darkest deeds.” I fell silent for a moment. Not because I couldn’t think of anything, but because I was a menace as a child. The list was too long. After the other guests finished, the camera panned to my face. I didn’t have time to hesitate, so I picked the funniest one. “When I was a kid, my best friend and I hid all of her older brother’s pants.” The memory was so vivid that I couldn’t help but chuckle as I recalled it. Mia, the guest sitting next to me, asked with curiosity written all over her face, “Then what happened?” I tried to recall the details, but I was too embarrassed to say the rest. Later, not only did I fail to apologize, but I actually went back to taunt him. To this day, I haven’t dared to appear in front of him again. Seeing my hesitation, Mia’s imagination started running wild. “Did you get beat up?” I shook my head. “Did you guys start dating?” I shook my head like a rattle drum. Mia, being the impatient type, stomped her foot. “So what happened? Spit it out!” I scratched my head, about to speak. That’s when the A-list actor next to me, Julian Blackwood, smiled and finished the sentence for me. “Later, she provoked me and threatened to strip my pants off with her own hands.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. He… is… Julian? Mia’s gaze darted back and forth between me and Julian. You could practically hear her brain frying. After a long pause, she asked hesitantly, “So, the unlucky guy who lost his pants… was you?” Then she looked at me. “And the little delinquent who stole them… was you?” I lowered my head, my eyes uncontrollably drifting toward Julian. I couldn’t figure it out. I just wanted to share a funny childhood story. How did I end up sitting next to the victim? 2 It wasn’t entirely my fault I didn’t recognize Julian. Back then, he was going through a phase. He wore black masks all day and acted like a mysterious, brooding vampire. My best friend, Riley—Julian’s sister—used to cry to me daily about how evil her brother was. According to her, he stole her allowance and ate her snacks. Eventually, she invited me over to steal his pants. She called it “teaching him a lesson.” I was at an age where I had an overflowing sense of justice. Hearing Riley’s tragic tales, my blood boiled, and I agreed. Our division of labor was clear. I was the lookout in the living room; Riley infiltrated the bedroom to secure the assets. However, there was a snag in the operation. I was helping Riley transport the bundle of pants to her room when we ran smack into Julian. Thinking back to his cold, deadpan expression, I still feel guilty. But remembering how much Riley had “suffered” under his tyranny, I grew a sudden pair of guts and shouted at him, “If you bully Riley again, next time I’ll strip your pants off myself!” Years later… We were drinking, and Riley accidentally let the truth slip. The stolen allowance? The stolen snacks? All lies. Just stories she made up during her rebellious phase. On the surface, I remained calm. Internally, I was screaming. The stories were fake, but my threat to Julian was very, very real! From that day on, I avoided Julian Blackwood like the plague. 3 Believing that admitting mistakes makes you a good kid, I immediately turned to Julian. “I’m so sorry. I was young and ignorant. I’ve learned a profound lesson since then. Please forgive me, Mr. Blackwood.” How profound was the lesson? Well, since that incident, I only believe about 30% of anything Riley tells me. The live stream comments were going wild. [LMAO, Chloe looks like a school kid getting sent to the principal’s office.] [Mr. Blackwood, please forgive our Chloe. She’s just a little bit… empty-headed.] [Don’t blame Chloe! Being an idiot isn’t a crime!] [I’m crying. I told my bestie my brother bullies me, and she said, “Good job, brother.”] [Okay but, I don’t think Julian is mad. He’s been smiling the whole time.] Seeing that last comment, I looked up at Julian. Our eyes met. Julian seemed to think of something and let out a low chuckle. I was terrified. Riley’s words echoed in my mind: My brother has evolved. He knows how to play dirty now. I pulled out my phone under the table and texted Riley for help. Riley, currently living her best life overseas, replied instantly: [Be careful! My brother texted me hours ago saying he ran into you. I could feel the murderous intent through the screen!] Connecting this with Julian’s meaningful smile, my hands started shaking as I typed: [What do I do?] [Your brother holds grudges like crazy!] [Save me! How do I apologize so he’ll actually accept it?] Riley went silent. I was anxious as an ant on a hot pan. Just then, the director told us to choose partners for the upcoming tasks. Mia, who lived for drama, leaned over to Julian. “Do you want to partner with Chloe?” Julian’s eyes crinkled with amusement. He didn’t hesitate for a second. “Of course.” Before I could panic, he added, “I want to see exactly how she plans to strip my pants.” Me: “!!!” 4 After the teams were set, Julian naturally sat next to me on the sofa. I fought a long internal battle before whispering, “Can I not be on your team?” Julian raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. According to Riley, this was the precursor to his rage. I lowered my head, speaking fast. “I was young and dumb when I helped Riley hide your pants. I really know I was wrong.” “And I swear, I never actually wanted to strip you. Really!” Afraid he wouldn’t believe me, I even held up three fingers in a scout’s oath. Julian leaned back, relaxed. “You think I picked you because I want revenge for the pants?” Obviously. But I nodded obediently and apologized again. “I really know I messed up.” Julian looked at me for a few seconds, then laughed. “Your attitude is surprisingly sincere.” I quickly ran through Riley’s teachings but couldn’t decipher his emotion. I stole a glance. Okay, he’s smiling. That means his mood should be decent. I relaxed slightly. “So, about the teams…” Julian kept smiling, but his words killed my hope. “We’re sticking together. We’re old acquaintances, after all. Our chemistry should be unmatched.” I tried to smile, but the corners of my mouth wouldn’t go up. Seeing my expression of utter despair, Julian’s mood improved significantly. Before walking away, he messed up my hair and dropped a line: “Since when did you get so timid?” I fixed my hair, staring at his back, thinking angrily: Riley was right. Julian Blackwood is not a good person!

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Title: Married for six years, no longer in love with my older wife. How do I divorce her without hurting her or getting revenge? The word divorce caught my eye. Something compelled me to click. The OP’s avatar was a cartoon Shiba Inu. It looked cute. It even resembled the Shiba I owned. He wrote: “I met my wife when I was a senior in high school. My family was poor, and I was about to drop out to work. She brought me to the city and supported my education. She’s seven years older than me. A very responsible adult. She treated me well—paid for my tuition and living expenses, cared about my studies and health. She even helped me choose my college. But I was too young. I thought that was love. So, sophomore year of college, I confessed my feelings. When she rejected me, I kept trying. Eventually, she agreed.” I scrolled down, my grip on the phone tightening. “I was so proud of myself back then. A kid landing a mature, successful woman. Looking back, it was wrong from the start. Once we were official, she started pouring resources into me. She was already a corporate executive. Almost every opportunity I got in college had her fingerprints on it. I’m grateful for that. My resume looks great because of her. Right after graduation, I joined her company. Then we got married. It’s been six years now.” My palms were sweating, ice-cold. I was certain. The OP was my husband, Liam. Chapter 1 The boy who used to smile and call me “Big Sis,” promising to treat me well forever, was now posting online. Airing our dirty laundry to strangers, looking for a “dignified” way to leave me without facing consequences. I started questioning myself. Was I the problem? Was I too strict? Did I not give him enough security? Six years of marriage, and this is where we ended up? If he wanted to leave, he could have just talked to me. Why post this? In that moment, curiosity outweighed the pain. I desperately needed to know why. Why? Why choose this way? I kept reading. I needed to understand why he wanted out. Chapter 2 The comments were mostly flaming him, but Liam ignored them and kept updating. “As for why I want a divorce… it started three years ago when I went abroad for work. It was a great opportunity, but I couldn’t afford it. I played the good boy, acted pitiful, and she covered all the expenses. While abroad, I met a girl from the same company. She was beautiful, young, and most importantly, we clicked. Our interests aligned perfectly. I felt relaxed with her.” I paused. Years ago, Liam had said the same thing to me. He would buy groceries early on weekends, rush from campus to my place, cook, clean, and wait for me to wake up naturally. Weekends were no longer empty. They were filled with his smiling face. “Wake up, sleepyhead. I made your favorite ribs.” He would hug me during horror movies, burying his face in my chest when he got scared. “Is the ghost gone yet?” When he proposed, he said, “I want to spend my life with you because being with you is when I’m happiest and most relaxed.” Turns out, the person who made him feel relaxed had changed long ago. “But that wasn’t the main thing. Living abroad opened my eyes. The world is huge. I couldn’t divorce her back then because I needed her connections and background.” “After three years, I came back and got promoted quickly. Recently, another girl who just returned from abroad showed interest in me. We’ve been seeing each other. Her family is wealthier than my wife’s. We get along better. And I feel like she loves me more than my wife does.” It clicked. That’s why he’s been working late so often. He was on dates. “Plus, my wife is older than me. Not two or three years, but a full seven years.” “So, I want a divorce.” I smirked bitterly, scrolling past the flood of comments until I landed on the top-voted one. “You’ve known her for ten years. Did you just find out today she’s seven years older than you?” Chapter 3 When I got home from work, Liam was unusually busy in the kitchen. He was humming, seemingly in a good mood, prepping ingredients with practiced ease. Hearing the door, he shouted, “You’re back! Give me a sec, dinner’s almost ready.” I changed my clothes numbly and sat at the table. Three dishes and a soup. He put in effort; they were all my favorites. Uncontrollably, I wondered: Is this guilt? Is he trying to compensate? With this? Is my heart worth a cheap home-cooked meal? I held back the urge to scream. Seeing my silence, worry washed over Liam’s face. He reached out to touch my forehead. “What’s wrong? Feeling sick?” I leaned back, avoiding his touch, and shook my head. “Nothing. Just tired from the new product launch.” Liam’s hand froze in mid-air, awkward. He looked confused for a second, then smiled and withdrew his hand. “Oh, I see. You worked hard. Try the ribs.” “You deserve a reward for working so hard.” He put a piece of rib on my plate. It looked good, smelled good, but a wave of nausea hit me. I frowned, covering my mouth, but the sickness kept rising. “Did you throw up?” I couldn’t hold it back. I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Liam rushed over, patting my back, handing me water. I couldn’t see a trace of fakery in this man. Until his phone rang. “Hello? I’m a bit busy today… Okay, okay, fine. I’ll come over soon, alright? Don’t be mad, princess…” His voice drifted in from the living room. He was so brazen, assuming I wouldn’t know. I dug my nails into my palms, head down, listening to his footsteps return. “Feeling better?” “The product manager just called. There’s an issue with a product, I need to go in for overtime.” “Take your meds, they’re on the table. I’m leaving.” Chapter 4 Finding Liam’s affair partner was easy. Overseas background, recently returned, likely working in the company. When my assistant placed Chloe He’s file on my desk, I wasn’t surprised. It was Director He’s daughter. We’d met. Six months ago, Director He invited Liam and me to play golf. His daughter was there. Back then, Chloe was all over Liam, pestering him to teach her how to play. What did Liam say then? “That girl is so annoying. Total princess syndrome.” Our marriage wasn’t a secret; the upper management knew. Chloe, as Director He’s daughter, definitely knew Liam was married. I didn’t hide my investigation. Soon, my assistant called. “Ms. Chen, the intern from the product department, Chloe He, is here to see you.” Compared to six months ago, Chloe looked even prettier. She walked in, calling out intimately. “Rose! My dad insisted I come learn from you. Please teach me!” She sat on the sofa, a suspicious red mark visible on her neck. Seeing my gaze, Chloe gasped dramatically. “Oops, Rose, don’t look! My boyfriend is so bad.” “He used to eat such bland food. Meeting me made him hungry.” Chloe giggled, covering her mouth, eyes fixed on me. “You don’t mind, do you, Sis?” I finally looked up at her, frowning. “Director He’s daughter? Didn’t he teach you to use titles in the office? Call me Ms. Chen.” Chloe’s smile froze. “And since Director He sent you to learn, please be professional.” “Your outfit—” I smirked. “In the office, maybe wear something more professional.” “Andy, email Ms. He the Employee Handbook and Code of Business Conduct. I want a read receipt before she leaves today.” Chloe left with a face like thunder. I rubbed my temples. They were throbbing. Someone else was going to make trouble tonight.

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The day I found out I was pregnant, Alex crushed me in a hug, his eyes red-rimmed with joy. “Candy,” he swore, his voice thick with emotion, “I swear I’ll take care of you and the baby!” Everyone said Alex loved me more than life itself, that he was completely wrapped around my finger. That was until I saw the videos and photos his first love sent me. Intimate, tangled limbs and whispered words. I found Alex in the nursery, assembling the crib for our baby. I walked up to him, my voice steady. “Let’s not keep the baby.” I felt his body go rigid. I pressed on. “Alex, let’s get a divorce.” 1 The baby rattle in Alex’s hand slipped from his grasp, landing on the plush carpet with a soft, muffled thud. He looked up at me, disbelief washing over his face. “Candy.” He closed the distance between us, his hands finding mine. They were cold. “Are you kidding me?” He looked so earnest, as if I were the most precious thing in the world to him. So precious that I could feel the faint tremor in his hands. “This isn’t a funny joke,” he said, his voice low. “Candy, stop messing around.” He thought I was throwing a tantrum. A cold wave of despair washed over me. “I’m not kidding.” My voice was flat. I gently pulled my hands from his, pushing down the ache in my chest. “I’m dead serious.” “Alex.” I held out my phone, displaying the chat logs and all the photos the woman had sent me. I watched his expression freeze, the color draining from his face in an instant. He opened his mouth to explain, but I cut him off. “You told her you wanted her to have your baby. You told her that if it was a boy, you’d name him Vincent, and if it was a girl, Vivienne…” I was trying so hard to stay calm. I wanted this to end peacefully, with dignity. Just like we’d promised each other when we first got together, that if we ever had to part ways, it would be on good terms. But then I looked at his face and remembered him whispering to me in the heat of the moment, cupping my face in his hands, telling me how much he wanted a child. I remembered him holding me, his heart full of anticipation as he said, “Candy, if we have kids, let’s have a boy and a girl.” “We’ll call the boy Vincent.” “And the girl, Vivienne.” I didn’t understand the significance of the names back then. I’d asked him about it, pouting, but he just said he liked them and changed the subject. I didn’t push it. I thought they sounded nice, too. How ironic. I stared at him, my voice cold as I tore his lie apart. “It’s not because you thought Vincent and Vivienne were beautiful names. It’s because,” I could feel my whole body start to shake, my teeth chattering so hard my words came out trembling, “it’s because her name is Vivian.” “Your first love. The one you loved for years but never ended up with.” “It’s not like that!” Alex’s eyes blazed red as he tried to explain, but my control finally snapped. I interrupted him with a raw, guttural scream. “If you loved her that much, you should have just told me!” “I would have let you go!” “Did you think I’d cling to you? Did you!” In a blind rage, I grabbed a stuffed animal from the crib and hurled it at him. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around me, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe, the world starting to go dark at the edges. I sank my teeth into his shoulder. I heard him grunt in pain, but he didn’t let go. His voice, when it came, was a choked sob. “It’s not like that!” “Candy!” “It’s not!” “I’m so sorry, Candy!” “I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” 2 Honestly, I truly wanted a divorce. I wanted us to part ways without this ugly, messy drama. But Alex called in the reinforcements. He summoned both our families. They crowded into our spacious living room, all our relatives and both sets of parents, sitting before me as if I were a criminal on trial. They were here to pass judgment. I watched Alex’s aunt look me up and down, her lip curled in a sneer. “Look at you, playing the housewife and still throwing a fit.” “Alex’s out there working himself to the bone for you, for that thing in your belly. And you, living a life of leisure at home, you have the nerve to have an attitude?” Alex’s mother chimed in, her tone softer but just as cutting. “Candy, dear, Alex’s not the cheating type. Why else would he have married you? He truly loves you. He wouldn’t have asked us all to come here and talk to you otherwise.” She took my mom’s hand, and my mom immediately turned on me. “Candy! You dare pull another stunt like this! Alex is one in a million, he doesn’t smoke or drink. What more could you possibly want!” My dad delivered the final verdict. “Don’t even think about it. As long as Alex doesn’t want a divorce, if you dare mention this again, I’ll break your legs!” The two families, united against a common enemy: me. I sat in the middle of the circle, listening as they took turns berating me. When they finally paused for breath, Alex spoke. “Candy, I have never, ever wanted to divorce you.” He took my hand. “I can explain. I can explain everything.” To prove his sincerity, he called Vivian right there, in front of everyone, and put her on speakerphone. He demanded she vouch for their “innocence.” “My wife is about to divorce me because of you!” he yelled into the phone. “You need to clear this up with her, right now!” Vivian sounded bored. “I was just messing with your wife. Can’t she take a joke? God, she’s psychotic.” Then her voice was directed at me. “So I dated your husband for a few years. Big deal. Everyone has a past. What, you expected him to be a blank slate? Are you so pure yourself?” Hearing her casual disdain, the emotions I’d been suppressing finally erupted. After the relentless assault from my family and Alex’s spinelessness, I snatched the phone from his hand. He seemed certain I wouldn’t dare do anything. I spoke directly to her. “If you were so innocent, you wouldn’t have added me on social media and sent me all that crap!” “Vivian, is it?” “If you think you’re so clean, then what do you call messing with a married man?” My voice trembled, but my words were firm. “Are you just naturally drawn to being the other woman, or is your own life so miserable you can’t stand to see anyone else happy?” Vivian shrieked. “What the hell did you just say to me!” “Alex! Are you just going to stand there and let your wife bully me like this? Are you just going to let her—” CRACK. The sound of a palm striking flesh echoed through the room. I clutched my stinging cheek, staring at Alex in disbelief. He stammered, panicked, “Candy, I didn’t mean to—” Through the phone, Vivian’s triumphant laughter rang out. “Got what you deserved, didn’t you.” “Let me tell you something, Candy. Alex is my little puppy. He comes when I call. And you know why I can say that? Because your husband gave me the confidence!” 3 “If you’ve got the guts,” she taunted, “tell your husband to come find me. Tell him to hit me.” “Hahaha, Candy, let me tell you, the only place your husband is good is in bed—” “Enough!” Alex violently ended the call and turned to me, his eyes wide with fear. But I just held my cheek and laughed, a hollow, broken sound. This wasn’t the first time I’d met Vivian. She had come to our home before she ever sent me that first message. She’d waltzed in like she owned the place, inspecting my home, my territory, before offering her verdict. “Hm. It’s just my style.” Vivian had been so sure of herself. “Candy, Alex didn’t let you have any say in the decor, did he?” I’d frozen, listening to her continue. “That’s because I love American-style decor. I told Alex that if we ever bought a house together, it had to be American style.” She walked over to the entryway and took down one of the matching keychains from the hook. I found my voice. “That’s incredibly rude.” Vivian just dangled the keychain in front of me. “This, too.” She pulled out a photo on her phone. In it, a much younger Alex, his face full of boyish happiness, was holding up the exact same keychain. “He made it for me.” Now, watching Alex’s red-rimmed eyes, his hand hovering in the air, too afraid to touch me, I found it all so laughable. So utterly pathetic. “Alex, why are you even pretending?” I asked him, my voice dripping with scorn. “If you love Vivian so much,” I met his gaze, “why did you have to drag me into this? Why did you have to ruin me?” I turned my head, looking at my parents, at all the silent, judgmental relatives. “So, you’re still not going to let me get a divorce?” “Are you all blind?” “Can’t you see it!” I screamed, the words tearing from my throat. “Can’t you see? His heart was never mine! It was always hers! It was never, ever mine!” The tears finally came, hot and fast, like pearls snapping off a string. I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. I broke down completely, sobbing, until Alex grabbed my hands. “Candy,” he pleaded. “Hit me.” “Please, just hit me!” He started crying with me. “Just don’t divorce me!” “I don’t want a divorce!” He fell to his knees in front of me, his words choked by sobs. “I love you. I don’t want a divorce!” I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse. But the sight of her son kneeling at my feet sent Alex’s mother into a rage. She surged forward and slapped me again, hard. “How dare you humiliate the son I’ve cherished my whole life!” she shrieked. Alex’s aunt grabbed a handful of my hair. “You’re nothing but a home-wrecking bitch! A curse! Women like you should just die!” I was being pulled and shoved from all sides, the searing pain from my scalp and the fire on my cheeks mixing with the soul-crushing agony Alex had inflicted on me. And through it all, my parents were still trying to mediate. “Candy, dear, what man doesn’t make mistakes?” “No man is faithful to just one woman his entire life. Candy, don’t be so stubborn.” My mom was crying now. “A divorced woman is damaged goods. If you really do this, who do you think will want you then?” My dad’s face was a mask of disapproval. “No one in our family has ever gotten a divorce. I won’t be the first to be shamed like this. If you’re so determined to leave him, you might as well be dead!” My parents’ words were all the justification Alex needed. He wrapped his arms around me, his tears soaking my shoulder. “Candy, I’ll stop talking to Vivian, okay? I’ll cut her off completely.” “Forgive me, Candy!” “I’m begging you!” 4 The voices swirled around me. Arguments, sobs, accusations, pleas. It was a suffocating whirlwind of noise, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. The weight of it all became unbearable until, finally, I snapped. “WHY?” I shrieked, a single, desperate word that contained all my pain. “JUST… WHY?” The chaos ended when I felt a warm gush of blood between my legs. I was rushed to the hospital. I spent a week there, hooked up to an IV, undergoing tests. I didn’t see Alex once. But I saw him constantly on Vivian’s social media feed. Alex, helping her pick out furniture and decor for her new house. Alex, in the kitchen with her, making her favorite steak dinner. Alex, taking a flower arrangement class with her. Their first creations held up to the camera, their smiles mirroring a photo from their teenage years. Vivian posted the two photos side-by-side with the caption: 【The ones you love when you’re young always find their way back to you.】 Alex had liked the post. I listened numbly as the doctor stood by my bed. “Ms. Davis,” she said gently. “Your pregnancy is very fragile. Your emotional state is critical. I really must advise you to get out, take a walk, try to relax.” I looked down at my phone. A new voice message from my mom. “Candy, Alex just bought your brother the new iPhone, the expensive one, over a thousand dollars. And you say he doesn’t love you? If he didn’t love you, why would he be so good to our family? You just focus on giving him a healthy baby boy, you hear me?” A new message from Alex’s mother. It was a photo of a fortune teller’s chart. “I had your fortune told. The master says the firstborn will be a son. Don’t you worry about a thing. You’re the only daughter-in-law our family will ever have.” And then, a new message from Alex. “Candy, I’ll be home tonight. I cut my business trip short.” My parents’ emotional neglect. My in-laws’ suffocating pressure. My husband’s pathetic lies. He thought that because he’d deleted Vivian’s contact in front of me, I wouldn’t see their sordid affair, wouldn’t know he was still deceiving me. I stared at his next message. “Candy, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll bring it to the hospital.” At the exact same moment, a message from Vivian popped up. “Alex already told me. He said he couldn’t bear to see me go through childbirth, so after you pop out that kid, he’s kicking you to the curb.” It was the final straw. My vision blurred. I could feel a grim, chilling smile spread across my face as I typed my reply to Alex. 【Alex.】 【I want those soup dumplings. From that little place you took me to on our first date.】 I’d never really been in a relationship before him, never been truly cherished. My parents’ love was like sand, most of it slipping through the cracks, leaving me with only a few grains. But that day, watching him sit across from me, carefully wiping down my bowl and chopsticks, placing a perfectly steamed dumpling in my dipping dish, and then looking up at me with that silly, wonderful grin… I think my heart just gave way. For the first time, I felt the urge to build a life with someone. Now, I waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. Alex never showed. Instead, I got another message from Vivian: “Just give us half an hour. Half an hour and we’ll be done.” “Then I’ll let him go.” The pain in my heart had faded to a dull, throbbing numbness. I sat on the ledge of the hospital rooftop, my legs dangling over the edge, and watched a familiar black Audi pull into the parking lot below. I dialed Alex’s number. I watched him get out of the car, rushing toward the hospital entrance as he answered my call. “Candy.” “Alex,” I said, my voice strangely calm. “Look up.” “Alex.” “Look up.” The wind whistled past my ears. He instinctively tilted his head back. His eyes found me, a fragile silhouette against the night sky, looking as if a single gust of wind could carry me away. He knew. Some primal part of him knew, and his heart seized in his chest. A raw, terrified shout ripped from his throat. “NO!” “CANDY, NO!” He scrambled, sprinting toward the hospital doors in a blind panic, but he was too late. An earth-shattering thud echoed from behind him, a sound that seemed to shatter his very soul, breaking him into a million pieces.

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Eighteen years after our divorce, I saw Aiden again at my daughter’s parent-teacher conference. She was a senior in high school. The homeroom teacher asked the two of us to stay behind. She slid a letter across her desk, stopping it in front of him. “Mr. Griffin,” she said, her tone crisp, “this is a love letter your son wrote to Lily. We’re in the final stretch of senior year. A romance now is a serious distraction. I trust you’ll have a firm talk with him when you get home.” Aiden just stood there, his eyes locked on me, completely frozen. He didn’t say a word. The teacher had to clear her throat impatiently before he snapped out of it, stammering apologies. After the meeting, he caught me in the stairwell. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. “Lily… she’s your daughter?” he finally managed. I gave a polite, tight-lipped nod. His brow furrowed in disappointment. “But you said… you told me you’d never remarry after we divorced.” … He was right. On the day we divorced eighteen years ago, I swore I would never marry again, never have another child. And I hadn’t. Lily was adopted. She wasn’t my biological daughter. But I didn’t feel the need to tell him that. “Mr. Griffin, my life is no longer any of your concern.” My voice was sharper now, laced with an impatience I didn’t try to hide. Eighteen years had transformed the dashing boy I once knew into a poised, mature man. But in his eyes, still as handsome as I remembered, a flicker of something I’d never seen before—shame, maybe even regret—crossed his features. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I… I just wanted to ask if you’ve been okay all these years…” “I’ve been fine,” I cut him off. My gaze shifted past him to the classroom door down the hall. A boy was gently pulling a girl aside, whispering something to her. My frown deepened. Ignoring the voice at my ear, I strode toward them. When Lily saw me, she flinched and called out a flustered, “Mom,” tucking her head down like a turtle. The boy, however, was surprisingly composed. He straightened up and bowed slightly. “Hello, ma’am. My name is Leo Griffin.” Leo Griffin. A fine name. The perfect fusion of Aiden Griffin and Isabella, I presumed. I whispered the name to myself, then offered a faint smile. I remembered when I was pregnant. Aiden had been ecstatic. He spent an entire night at his desk, poring over names for the two-month-old life inside me. If it’s a boy, he’d said, we’ll call him Julian. If it’s a girl, Julia. Back then, I’d dreamed that our child, boy or girl, would have his looks and his spirit. And now, looking at his son, I could see the resemblance was uncanny. The boy, Leo, had his father’s easy charm and seemed eager to talk, but I had already taken my daughter’s arm and was steering her into the river of students flowing down the stairs. I could feel a burning gaze on my back, but I never once looked back. On the drive home, Lily was quiet and withdrawn, her eyes fixed on her lap. She knew the teacher had kept me and Leo’s father behind. She could guess why. “It’s not going to work out between you two,” I said, breaking the silence as we waited at a red light. “End it. I don’t want you seeing him anymore.” Lily’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and already shimmering with tears. “Mom, I promise, it won’t affect my grades…” “This isn’t about your grades.” The light turned green. I pressed the accelerator gently, my voice remaining steady and calm. “At your age, a love like this doesn’t last. It never ends well.” “How can you say that?” Her voice cracked, but for the first time ever, she argued back with such force. “Grandma told me the man you married… he was your high school sweetheart. Your first love.” “If you could do it, why can’t I?” I fell silent. The rest of the drive passed in a heavy quiet. I never answered her question. She never asked again. It wasn’t until we were home that Lily found her courage again, ready to plead her case. “Mom, Leo is so good to me, and I really, really like him. Can’t you just stay out of it? I swear I won’t let it affect my schoolwork, and I won’t do anything reckless.” She looked at me, her eyes shining with conviction. “And I know… I know we have a real future together.” Girls blinded by their first love all sound the same. Her desperate need to prove the purity of her feelings reminded me of myself, all those years ago, saying the exact same words to my own mother. That Aiden was good to me. That I loved him more than anything. That we would, without a doubt, have a wonderful future together. That I was willing to bet my entire life on him. But I lost that bet. I lost everything. “Don’t be naive. I was just as idealistic as you are now, and you see where it got me.” “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.” I sighed, then walked calmly into the kitchen to start dinner. As I rolled up my sleeves, the faint, silvery line of a scar from eighteen years ago appeared on my wrist. Lily’s eyes fixed on it, her expression instantly softening with pain. “Mom… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up the past.” “You’ve never told me about what happened back then,” she said softly. “You never wanted to date anyone else or start a new family. I’m older now. Can you tell me what really happened?” “I want to know.” She’d asked me this so many times over the years. I always brushed it off, saying I’d forgotten, that it was all a distant memory. But as she asked again today, I realized that every detail, every word from eighteen years ago was etched into my mind as if it were yesterday. After a moment’s hesitation, I began to tell her the story I had locked away for nearly two decades. Aiden and I met during our senior year of high school, too. Young love is a wildfire. Back then, Aiden was even more reckless than his son. He was relentless, bringing me breakfast every morning, throwing a punch when anyone dared call me poor, and shamelessly slipping me love letters he’d stayed up all night to write. His craziest stunt was grabbing the microphone from the principal during a school-wide assembly and declaring his love for me in front of everyone. The sun was blinding that day, and he seemed to glow under it. Just like that, Aiden and I were a couple. A week before our final exams, Aiden got into a fight with a boy from another class. It was in a blind spot for the security cameras. When the boy turned his back, Aiden lunged and broke the guy’s leg. When the police came asking questions, I gritted my teeth and confessed. I said I did it. I was detained for ten days, and I missed my college entrance exams. Hearing this, Lily’s face flushed with anger. “So that’s why you only have a high school diploma? You took the fall for him and missed your finals.” “And him? He just went off and took the exams without a second thought?” I shook my head gently. When Aiden first found out I’d confessed for him, he wanted to turn himself in. But his parents threatened to kill themselves, forcing him to stay. He had no choice but to take the exams. The day he visited me in detention, he swore to God that he would get into a great university, make something of himself, and give me a life of happiness. Aiden was a decent student, and with a bit of luck, he did get into a good university. To be closer to him, I gave up on the idea of retaking my exams. I moved to his college town alone, working odd jobs to support us both while he studied. The year he graduated, I got pregnant. A shotgun wedding. In those days, it was practically a scandal, a source of shame. But I ignored my parents’ fury and their pleas, and with a heart full of joy, I married into the Griffin family. There was no dowry, no limo, no ceremony. Not even a proper wedding reception. At this, Lily’s eyes flickered. “Mom, I’ve never heard you talk about having a baby. Was… was the baby given to him after the divorce?” My baby? I instinctively brought a hand to my flat stomach, tracing the space where a life once grew, just as I had done so carefully eighteen years ago. A bitter smile touched my lips. “She’s gone.” “She was gone before she was ever born. When I was seven months pregnant.” She was a girl, just like Lily. If she had lived, she would be in college by now. Lily’s brief shock melted into a deep, aching sympathy. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. “Mom, don’t be sad. You still have me.” She pulled back slightly. “But she was seven months along. How could you lose her? What happened?” I pulled my sleeve down, covering the ugly scar on my wrist. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “It happened the day I found out he was cheating on me. He pushed me.” “I fell and lost her.” “Cheating?” Lily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You took the fall for him, missed your finals, gave up your own future… you did all that for him, and he cheated on you? And he killed your baby?” “Who was she? Did you know her? Was she beautiful?” The barrage of questions pulled my mind back into the autumn haze of eighteen years ago. Just like Lily, my first reaction when I suspected Aiden was cheating was disbelief. The woman’s name was Isabella. She was a department head at Aiden’s company. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful. In fact, she was seven years older than both of us. Lily’s brow furrowed even deeper. “Seven years older? What was he thinking? He had a young, beautiful wife like you and cheated with a woman seven years his senior?” I gave a small, humorless laugh, the knife in my hand never stopping its rhythmic chop against the cutting board. The memory of the moment I saw his betrayal flashed through my mind. The knife slipped. A bright red bead of blood welled up on my finger. Lily rushed to find a bandage for me, her voice thick with concern. “Mom, you’re bleeding. That must hurt.” I smiled to reassure her. “It’s just a scratch. It doesn’t hurt.” Compared to the wounds of eighteen years ago, a cut like this was nothing. Back then, Aiden and I were newlyweds, still in the honeymoon phase. His marketing department had weekly celebrations for successful projects, and he often took me with him. That’s how I met Isabella. Knowing I was pregnant, she went out of her way to sit with me and take care of me. We exchanged numbers and chatted about girl talk. She was as warm and gentle as an older sister. I actually liked her a lot. After every party, I’d tell Aiden how kind and wonderful she was. But every time I mentioned her, he would frown. “What’s so great about her? She’s average-looking, has no figure, and she’s thirty and still not married.” “If it weren’t for her master’s degree and her family connections, she never would’ve made department head so quickly.” “You should stay away from her. She’s not as nice as she seems.” I didn’t argue with him, but I kept talking to Isabella behind his back, sharing little bits of my life with her. But then, he stopped taking me to the parties. ‘Your belly is getting too big, it’s not convenient,’ became his go-to excuse. At first, I didn’t mind. But slowly, I noticed he was coming home later and later. The “overtime” at work became more frequent. Fueled by pregnancy hormones, I became a bundle of anxiety, terrified he was going to leave me. When I told Isabella my fears, she promised me with utter confidence: “Chloe, you just focus on staying healthy for the baby. I’ll keep an eye on him for you at the office. I won’t let any other woman get near him.” “And stop overthinking things. We really are busy at work right now. He’s working late, but so am I. You don’t have to worry about him messing around.” I still trusted Aiden, deep down. Her words put my mind at ease. Until I was seven months pregnant. It was the sixth consecutive night he was “working late,” and I couldn’t stand it anymore. That night, I brought him a thermos of chicken soup I’d made myself and went to his office, my hand supporting my swollen belly. It was almost ten o’clock. The skyscraper was nearly deserted. I explained who I was to the security guard, and he let me up. The office floor was dark and silent. Aiden wasn’t at his desk. But from one of the offices, the door slightly ajar, a sliver of light escaped, and with it, the faint, intertwined sounds of two people panting. The sounds were… familiar. I froze, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning. I took a few steps closer, and through the crack in the door, I saw them. Two faces, lost in a passionate kiss. I rushed in without thinking. In that moment, I had no dignity, no reason. I was a madwoman, screaming at the top of my lungs. I shrieked at Aiden, demanding to know why he would betray me. He didn’t offer a single word of explanation. He just grabbed a jacket, frantically covering Isabella and shielding her behind him. The look he gave me wasn’t guilt. It was cold, furious anger. “What are you doing, making a scene at my office!” “If anyone sees this, how is Isabella supposed to face anyone at work again?” Something inside me snapped. I hurled the heavy thermos at Isabella. But Aiden shoved me aside. I stumbled backward, my body slamming hard against the sharp corner of a desk before I crumpled to the floor. He carefully helped a shaken Isabella out of the room, leaving me there on the cold ground. An agonizing pain seized my abdomen. I was losing strength. I looked down and saw blood seeping through my pants, pooling around me in a grotesque, crimson halo. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was the security guard finding me in a pool of my own blood and calling 911. By the time I reached the hospital, I was hemorrhaging and going into shock. The hospital tried to call Aiden for surgical consent, but his phone was off. In the end, I had to use the last of my strength to sign the consent forms myself before they wheeled me into the operating room. My seven-month-old fetus had suffocated, stillborn. And I had bled so much that my uterus was severely damaged. They had to remove it to save my life. I told the story calmly, but Lily’s eyes were already red. She sniffled, her voice thick. “What happened then?” Then, my mother came to the hospital to take care of me. She kept the hysterectomy a secret and forced Aiden to sign a written promise. He swore he would never see Isabella again. Lily looked at me, her expression tense. “Did he change?” Change? A leopard can’t change its spots. Of course he didn’t. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Lily wiped her eyes and went to open it. “Mom, someone sent you flowers. And a big box of pastries from Marilyn’s Bakery.” She carried the items inside, but as her gaze fell on the card tucked into the bouquet, she froze. “Aiden Griffin?” The card read: Chloe, I thank my lucky stars that we met again after eighteen years. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive the man I was. Aiden In telling my story, I had only referred to him as ‘he.’ Lily’s eyes widened in disbelief, her lips trembling. “Mom… your cheating ex-husband… he’s Leo’s father?” I hadn’t realized she knew Leo’s father’s full name. My fingers curled into a fist. “Yes. He is.” The color drained from Lily’s face. Right in front of me, she took the bouquet and the box of pastries and threw them both into the trash. Then she went to her room and locked the door, skipping dinner entirely. One missed meal won’t hurt her, I thought. She’ll come to her senses. I left her alone. The next morning, Lily emerged from her room with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. It was clear she hadn’t slept.

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My childhood friend and the billionaire heir both chased me. I chose the billionaire. My childhood friend was furious. “Don’t mock a youth for being poor. One day, I’ll make you regret this.” Six years later, he drove a luxury car, a beautiful woman on his arm. He ran into me selling grilled sausages on the street. He sneered, “Since we’re old friends, I’ll take two.” 1 The next time I saw my childhood friend, Luke, I was selling grilled sausages on the side of the road. He had his arm around a young girl’s waist, mocking me: “Hah, Sarah, you’ve been reduced to a street vendor?” “The Pierce family went bankrupt, so your rich boyfriend can’t support you anymore?” Caleb Pierce, who was casually fishing a sausage out of the fryer, asked me, “Who is this?” Luke’s face turned green, choked into silence. I stifled a laugh and explained, “Luke, your college roommate.” The girl next to Luke, holding a sausage in one hand, looked confused. “Luke, you know them?” He patted the girl’s head affectionately. “Just old acquaintances. It’s cold out, go wait in the car.” Under Luke’s smug gaze, I looked up at the SUV parked by the curb. “Sarah, seems like your taste isn’t great either. You dumped me for the richer Caleb Pierce, do you regret it now?” I rolled my eyes. “Five bucks total, don’t forget to pay.” “My girlfriend loves these. Fry two more, help boost your sales.” I wanted to tell him to get lost. Caleb patted my shoulder nonchalantly, pushing me aside. He fried the sausages with good temper, packed them nicely in a bag, and handed them to Luke. Luke pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change. Eat something good tonight.” Caleb didn’t take it, a cryptic smile in his eyes. “No need. Since we know each other, it’s on me.” Luke scoffed. “Don’t try to save face at a time like this.” Caleb glanced at the car by the road. “That car is second-hand, right?” Luke stiffened. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “Let me give you a piece of advice. This woman could dump me back then, she can dump you now.” He dropped that sentence, turned around, got in his car, and left. Leaving Caleb and me staring at each other in the cold wind. “Why didn’t he say ‘don’t mock a youth for being poor’ just now?” I was speechless. “Probably forgot.” Caleb took a bite of a sausage and asked amusedly, “Will you dump me?” “Not necessarily.” “Will we be together forever?” “Hard to say.” Caleb: … “How did you know his car was second-hand?” I asked. “Because when it was first-hand, it was mine.” While we were bickering, the real stall owner came back. He was Caleb’s best friend. He fell out with his family because he refused an arranged marriage. His parents cut off his cards, and he swore he would start his own business. Selling grilled sausages. He snatched the sausage from Caleb’s hand, cursing. “Bro, I went to the bathroom for a second, you ate six, and didn’t make a dime!” Caleb: “Some idiot just bought sausages and didn’t pay.” “Who the hell was it? This is my blood and sweat money!” Luke daring to provoke us meant he must have gotten wind of the news. He wasn’t wrong. The Pierce family was indeed facing bankruptcy. 2 Luke and I were neighbors since childhood. We went to school together, did homework together, accompanying each other for over a decade. After graduating high school, we came from our small town to New York for college. Luke’s family ran a small factory, which was considered well-off in that small town. My mom was an English teacher, my dad a math teacher. They valued my grades highly. I was an only child, and all the family’s resources tilted towards me. Pretty dresses, exquisite stationery, the occasional expensive accessory, and pricey dance lessons every year. After starting college, I realized the prosperity of the big city was far beyond what that small town could compare to. New York’s wealth was dazzling. I was still a student, able to enjoy college life freely with the allowance from home. But what about after graduation? I wanted to stay. When I chose to be with Caleb, many people felt indignant for Luke. They said I was greedy, vain, and dumped my childhood sweetheart. Greedy for wealth? I admit it. Who isn’t? The Pierce family’s listed company was incomparable to Luke’s small factory. But dumping Luke? I don’t admit that. We were never together. Now, the Pierce family faced bankruptcy, and everyone avoided them like the plague. Luke, however, was no longer the same. The food factory expanded, caught the wave of the internet, and started live-streaming sales. They opened over twenty stores and made a fortune. Many people were waiting to see me become a joke, laughing at my short-sightedness and wrong choice. 3 Caleb was a law student; I was in Foreign Languages. We wouldn’t have crossed paths. I knew him because he was Luke’s roommate. Knowing his background, I was polite to him. Being on good terms with him couldn’t hurt. Ideally, make friends and develop connections. His attitude towards others was always mild. Not cold, but not warm either. A bit cool. Freshman year, apart from classes, my mind was full of making money. At first, I worked part-time in the cafeteria, selling pasta. When Caleb came to eat, the cafeteria was almost empty. Seeing it was me, he was slightly surprised. “You need money?” I wasn’t embarrassed. “Not really, just earning some extra cash.” He nodded and asked, “Which flavor is good?” “I like the tomato one.” “Then I’ll have that.” After working in the cafeteria for a month, I quit. Reason being: too much work, too little pay. The boss said, “You can eat for free, save on living expenses.” Sounds nice, but I can’t eat pasta for every meal. Before leaving, though, I introduced a classmate who wanted a part-time job to him. The next time I saw Caleb, I was in the mailroom. He chuckled lightly. “You’re quite busy, working multiple jobs.” I teased, “What, the young master shops online and picks up packages too?” He accepted the title without hesitation. “Young masters are human too.” “Shouldn’t you just make a call and have someone deliver it directly?” He rolled his eyes. “Read fewer novels.” A month later, I quit the mailroom job too. A senior introduced me to a translation gig. 4 On Luke’s birthday, we celebrated at a KTV, inviting many classmates. Caleb was there too. A girl with pink hair and a fresh face caught my eye. Very cute. I noticed her because she gave Luke a watch, and my gift was also a watch. Her watch cost nearly four thousand, a bit expensive for a student. Everyone knew my relationship with Luke and was curious about what I gave. Looking at my three-hundred-dollar watch, I felt a bit embarrassed to take it out. Luke chuckled. “I like whatever Sarah gives.” After that, singing, chatting. I didn’t participate, sitting aside eating and watching them play. Luke, maybe a bit drunk, suddenly shouted, “Our Sarah learned classical dance. How about she performs for us?” Others joined in, urging me to dance. Seeing Luke showing me off like a trophy, my face stiffened. “My clothes today aren’t suitable. I’ll dance for you another time.” I kept a polite smile. Luke’s other roommate, Mike, had no tact. “Just improvise a bit, don’t be a buzzkill.” I looked at Luke for help, signaling him to control his roommate. I didn’t want to dance on such an occasion. But he pushed me. “Sarah, it’s my birthday, do it for my sake.” Since he put it that way, I stopped indulging him. “What sake do you have?” The scene froze instantly, everyone looking at each other. Luke’s face turned ugly. This wasn’t my fault anyway. I stood up nonchalantly. “Excuse me, I’m going to the restroom.” When I came back, Luke and the others were chatting again, as if the little episode never happened. Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard the conversation inside. Through the crack, Mike asked curiously, “Luke, are you and Sarah together or not?” “Didn’t you say you were childhood sweethearts?” Luke explained with a smile, “We played together since we were three. Our parents always wanted to matchmake us, but I haven’t decided yet.” The pink-haired girl chimed in, “That’s just the elders’ wish. Knowing each other since childhood doesn’t mean you have to be together.” Mike: “I saw Sarah working part-time in the cafeteria a while ago. A pretty girl like her, why work in a cafeteria?” Luke frowned, sounding concerned. “She really is something. Why didn’t she tell me if she needed money?” I had an urge to rush in and curse. Luke continued, “After high school graduation, Sarah confessed to me. I didn’t say yes, but our families are close, I didn’t want to make it awkward.” “Heh.” A cold snort came from the corner. Caleb, who hadn’t spoken much, smiled thoughtfully. “What’s the big deal? If you don’t like her, just reject her directly.” Luke wasn’t happy. “Caleb, you don’t understand. Sarah and I have known each other for so many years, our feelings are deep.” Caleb said nonchalantly, “It’s fine. Maybe she isn’t as good as you think.” “Huh? Why do you say that?” “Because I made it up.” Luke: … Me: … Saying speechless things with a straight face. I had a new understanding of Caleb. He didn’t play by the rules. Luke said helplessly, “Caleb, you really know how to joke.” Caleb continued asking, “So do you like her or not?” Luke fell silent. He always stood perfectly in the friend zone, unwilling to take a step forward, yet unwilling to reject clearly. Caleb walked to him, patted his shoulder, sounding like a wise mentor. “You’ll meet many people in four years of college. Trust me, you deserve better.” Luke hesitated. “But Sarah…” “She’s the best, not suitable for you.” “…” Outside the door, I almost burst out laughing. Caleb’s nonsensical remarks left everyone speechless. Wanting to laugh, but couldn’t. “Caleb, you…” Luke looked stiff, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say. Caleb ignored him and walked towards the door. My heart tightened. I quickly ran to hide around the corner of the corridor. Slowly calming my breathing, I heard footsteps getting closer. “Stop hiding, come out.” I didn’t move. “If you don’t come out, I’ll go back and tell them you were eavesdropping.” “…”

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Chapter 1 I saw my college roommate, Jessica, post a wedding photo on Instagram, so I double-tapped to like it. A second later, a DM popped up. “Who is this? Why are you hacking this account? I’m calling the police if you don’t answer!” I was confused, so I tried to FaceTime her. The moment the call connected and she saw my face, she screamed and slammed the phone down. I called back. She declined and sent a text. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” … The question was so absurd I laughed out loud. I called her again. It took a long time for her to answer. “Prove it,” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Touch your nose. Now wave. Now pinch your cheek.” I did a series of ridiculous facial gymnastics until she finally exhaled, looking like she’d seen a ghost. “You’re really Clara? You’re… alive?” Jessica told me she had cried for days when she heard the news. She’d even posted a long, sentimental tribute. I scrolled back through our chat history. She had sent a few messages a year ago. Back then, I had just given birth to my daughter, Lily. I was drowning in diapers and sleepless nights. I barely touched my phone for months. Later, I became a full-time stay-at-home mom. My social life evaporated. I just assumed people were busy. But claiming I was dead? That wasn’t a joke. That was insanity. I demanded an apology. Jessica felt wronged. “I only repeated what I saw!” She dug through her archives and sent me a screenshot. It was a Facebook post from over a year ago. A black-and-white photo of me. A date of death. A cause: “Complications from Postpartum Depression.” No wonder no one called. No wonder the invites stopped coming. Everyone thought I was in the ground. My blood boiled. I immediately tried to mass-message my old college group chat to tell them I was alive. But when I hit send, a red exclamation mark appeared. You are not a member of this group. I had been kicked out. I messaged Jessica: “Who started this? Who posted that obituary?” A minute later, a voice memo came through. “Clara… I heard it from Chloe. Do you remember her?” Chloe? She was in our major, different sorority. I remembered her because she was close with my husband, Mark, back in college. One of “the guys,” a “female bro.” After Mark and I started dating, she faded into the background. I hadn’t heard her name in years. “Why would she say I’m dead?” I typed furiously. “I don’t know the details,” Jessica replied. “Last year, Chloe posted that screenshot. She said you passed away. Everyone was comforting her in the comments because she was organizing your ‘online memorial.’” My hand started to tremble. “Send me the post.” “She deleted it a long time ago. Said it was too painful to look at. Clara, did you really not know?” Know what? My entire world for the last year had been Lily. Formula, burping, nap schedules, purees. I was exhausted daily. I didn’t have time to doom-scroll. And I wasn’t friends with Chloe on social media. I asked Jessica for Chloe’s contact info and sent a friend request. Thirty minutes. No response. I tried again. Request Declined. The fire in my chest was raging. I called Jessica. “She won’t add me. Give me her number.” “Clara, this feels weird. Maybe you should calm down first.” “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, Jess. How do I calm down?” She sighed and texted me the digits. I typed the number into my keypad. My finger hovered over the call button. Then I stopped. Something was wrong. Chloe started a rumor that I was dead. She and Mark were close in college. Did Mark know about this? Chapter 2 I stared at the number, but didn’t dial. Instead, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Sarah Jenkins. Sarah was a lawyer my old company used. Sharp, aggressive, and expensive. I took a deep breath and called. “Sarah, it’s Clara. I have a bizarre situation.” I explained everything. Sarah listened without interrupting. When she spoke, her tone was clinical. “First, you need to post a public clarification. Prove you exist. That’s damage control.” “Second, we need to find out the source and the motive.” She paused. “But Clara, I need to manage your expectations. Defamation lawsuits are expensive and hard to win unless you can prove actual financial damages. Best case scenario? You get an apology and a small settlement.” “So I just let her tell people I’m dead?” “No. We gather evidence. Screenshots, timestamps, witness statements. Then we find out why.” I hung up, feeling slightly steadier. Evidence first. Confrontation second. I decided to call Mark. “Hey,” he answered, sounding distracted. “Is Lily crying again?” “Mark, something crazy happened.” I told him the story. I expected him to be furious. Instead, he laughed. “Babe, it’s probably just a prank. Or someone hacked her account. I’m swamped at work, I gotta go.” “A prank?” I raised my voice. “It was posted last June. Right after I had Lily. It was Chloe. Do you remember her?” Mark paused. “Chloe? That must be a mistake. Don’t overthink it. It’s just social media drama.” “I’m literally being told I’m dead, Mark. You don’t think that matters?” “I didn’t say that. I said ignore the trolls. Look, I have a meeting.” “I’m going to post a clarification. Right now.” “Don’t do that,” he said quickly. “It’s morbid. People will think you’re crazy. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” Click. He hung up. I was shaking with rage. I called him back, we screamed at each other, and he stopped answering. Fine. If he wouldn’t help, I’d do it myself. I typed out a post on Facebook: “I am very much alive. rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated…” I hit ‘Post’. Suddenly, a pop-up appeared on my screen. [Session Expired. Your account has been logged in on another device.] I froze. My phone was in my hand. Who just logged into my account? Chapter 3 My first thought was a hacker. But to log in on a new device, you need a two-factor authentication code. I opened my text messages and scrolled. Buried under promo codes and delivery notifications, I found it. A verification code from Facebook. Date: June 12th. Last year. I remembered that week. Mark had borrowed my phone constantly. He said he was playing some mobile game or checking sports scores while his phone charged. Was it Mark? I checked my cloud backups. There were gaps in the sync history. Someone had been deleting messages. I dialed Mark again. He answered on the fifth ring. “What now?” “Did you log into my Facebook?” “What? No. Why would I do that?” “Someone kicked me off. Who else has my password?” “You’re paranoid,” he snapped. “I’m working my ass off to pay the mortgage, and you’re sitting at home inventing conspiracies. Is this postpartum psychosis?” “Mark, I—” “Post whatever you want. Stop blaming me.” Before he hung up, I heard something in the background. A faint, female giggle. “Wait, who is that—” The line went dead. I sat on the couch in the dark, shivering. Mark came home at 1:00 AM. “You’re up?” He kicked off his shoes. “Why were you so late?” “Project deadline.” He walked past me to the shower. “Mark,” I said to his back. “Remember Chloe? Why is she the one who said I died?” He turned, his face a mask of exhaustion. “I haven’t spoken to her in years. Stop digging for problems that don’t exist.” “Then why was my account accessed from your IP address?” I lied, bluffing. “I said it wasn’t me!” He shouted. “God, you’re impossible lately.” He slammed the bathroom door. I listened to the water running. His phone was on the coffee table. Face down. I knew the passcode. Our anniversary. I had never checked his phone before. I believed in privacy. But privacy is a luxury for people who aren’t being gaslit. I unlocked it. Text messages were clean. Boring, even. I searched contacts for “Chloe.” Nothing. Then I opened his banking apps. My heart stopped. Venmo. Zelle. CashApp. Starting last year, there was a steady stream of transfers to a user named “CC_Design.” $520. $888. $1,314. Numbers that meant “I love you” in internet slang. Three days ago: $2,000. Note: For the stroller. Bank of America transfer: $20,000. Last month. Note: Reno costs. In total, he had moved over $150,000 out of our accounts. I knew exactly where that money came from. It was supposed to be our savings. He told me his bonus was cut this year. He was lying. He was funding another life. Chapter 4 I took photos of every transaction with my own phone. Then I saw it. A calculator app that looked slightly off. It was a vault app. I tried our anniversary. Incorrect Passcode. I tried his birthday. Incorrect. My hands were sweating. The shower water turned off. I had seconds. I tried Chloe’s birthday. I remembered it because we threw her a party junior year. Access Granted. The folder opened. My blood turned to ice. Hundreds of photos. Mark and Chloe. Kissing. Traveling. And then, the timeline shifted to last year. Chloe, sitting on a bay window, visibly pregnant. Mark’s caption: “Can’t wait to meet you, little one.” While I was bleeding, recovering from a C-section, struggling to breastfeed our daughter… he was playing house with her. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. Stay calm, Clara. Sarah said evidence first. I air-dropped everything to my phone’s hidden folder. Then I found a document in his “Files” app. Medical Report: Mercy Hospital. Patient: Mark Miller. Diagnosis: Hepatocellular Carcinoma (Liver Cancer). Stage III. Date: Three months ago. He was dying. And he hadn’t told me. The pieces slammed together. He wasn’t just cheating. He was liquidating our assets. He faked my death socially so that when he died, Chloe could step in without anyone asking questions. He was transferring the money so I couldn’t claim it in probate. He was setting up his mistress and his secret child with my money, before leaving me a widow with nothing but debt. I put the phone back exactly as I found it. Mark walked out, toweling off his hair. “You look pale,” he said. “You okay?” “Just tired,” I whispered. “Get some sleep.” He picked up his phone, checked it casually, and went to the balcony to smoke. I watched him. A stranger. A monster. I didn’t sleep that night. I formulated a plan.

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