Category: English

The day I found out about my husband’s affair, my family hauled my numb body back home, all of them urging me to pretend that nothing had happened. “You’re a stay-at-home wife, what would you live on without him? You’ll forget about this soon enough.” A chill went through me, and the tears wouldn’t stop. I was a wreck. That was why, while my husband was away on a business trip, my parents had my cousin try to stand in for him. “Just try it a few times. If you get used to the proximity, you’ll accept it. Life will go on as before. Just try to be practical.” My cousin went through the motions of my husband’s routines. Their figures overlapped; everything seemed unchanged—still gentle, still attentive. But I couldn’t bear it. Every caring gesture he made brought back the image of her: them kissing on the street without a care, that same mouth having kissed me just that morning. I screamed with revulsion, shattering a vase, but the agonizing question still tore out of me: “Why did you cheat? Was I not enough? Is she really that much better than me?” I wasn’t being asked to forgive him just once. I was being asked to forgive him every single time the memory surfaced. Those images sliced me into pieces, like knives. I collapsed to the floor, helpless. Twelve years of a relationship. He was supposed to be the husband who loved me most. I’d quit my job to become a full-time wife so we could prepare for a baby. We were supposed to be having children. But he had cheated. How could I possibly pretend nothing happened? I was sobbing hysterically. When I looked up again, I pleaded with my parents. “Please, let me go. I can support myself. I promise.” … My parents exchanged a long, tense look, then sighed in defeat. “Fine, but you need to think this through. Divorce isn’t easy, and we don’t want to hurt you.” “Marriage doesn’t always need love to last.” They left, and the house fell into a terrifying silence. Before leaving, Mom told me to give both myself and him some time, to just try to make it work. Divorce, she insisted, wouldn’t be good for me. I mumbled a reply, then curled up in the corner, the cold seeping into me from all sides. I thought and thought, for hours. The sweet moments we shared flashed before my eyes like a slide show. How could a person so deeply loved change like that? How long had it been? Had they gotten a room? Gone further? What positions had they used? I even had the perverse thought: What if someone who looked exactly like him did it, that it wasn’t him? But no, we knew each other too well. That person was definitely him. A whirlwind of thoughts tormented me, driving me nearly insane. I tugged at my hair, pulling myself further into the corner. Maybe if I didn’t love him, I could pretend it hadn’t happened. But we had loved each other, deeply. I couldn’t accept his infidelity and then have to either pretend everything was fine, or have him say, I’m sorry, and me say, It’s okay, and somehow expect everything to go back to normal. Tears streamed down my face again at the thought. I didn’t sleep. I sat in that corner all night. The sound of the front door opening. Ronny Maxwell walked in. Seeing me on the floor, he rushed over, picked me up, and headed toward the bedroom. The unfamiliar scent of perfume was a loud declaration, making my nose sting with a mix of sadness and revulsion. There was a smear of uncleaned lipstick on the inside of his shirt collar. In that moment, everything was clear. The pain spread throughout my body. I had imagined so many reactions: I would lash out, I would force him to tell me why he cheated, I would make him swear on his knees never to do it again, I would drag that woman to my face, I would torment them like a lunatic, ending everything in mutual destruction… But the words caught in my throat, all of them. It seemed to make no difference. They all led to the same result. He was frantically checking to see if I was hurt or sick, when I finally spoke. “Ronny, let’s get a divorce.” Ronny’s face froze. “Wifey, what are you talking about? We’re not getting a divorce.” He quickly wiped my tears away. “Don’t say things like that. Have I been too busy lately, traveling too much, not paying enough attention to you? I’m sorry. I’m just trying to work hard now so I can spend more time with you and the kids later.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it, acting as if his love for me was absolute. I pulled my hand back, cold and uninterested in even speaking. I was too tired… I fell into a heavy sleep. When I woke up, Ronny had already prepared dinner. He presented a delicate necklace—a matching couple’s piece I had mentioned wanting ages ago. He happily put it around my neck, but received no joyful reaction. He looked a little deflated. “You don’t like it?” I shook my head, my voice exhausted. “I like it.” If he had given it to me last month, I would have jumped up for a huge hug and a big kiss. But now, an overwhelming fatigue consumed me. Ronny returned to the kitchen to busy himself. The doorbell rang. I opened the door. The delivery person checked the house number. “Hello, package for Mr. Maxwell. Could you sign for it?” I took it. Driven by curiosity, I opened the box. Inside was an identical necklace. Ronny came out of the kitchen and saw me staring blankly at the necklace. He nearly dropped the bowl he was holding. He quickly took the necklace from my hand. “Look at me, I’m so forgetful. I accidentally bought two of the same one. I’ll return this one tomorrow.” When he lied, he instinctively touched his ear. That habit hadn’t changed. After twelve years together, I knew all his tells. He had no idea how transparent his lies were. I didn’t expose him. It was too meaningless. After dinner, I fell back asleep, my body inexplicably drowsy. Ronny went out late that night. As if to confirm a suspicion, I called out softly. “Ronny.” He paused, came back, and kissed my forehead. “Something came up at the office. I’ve been busy lately. I’ll be back soon.” He left quickly, not giving me time to react. I stood by the window, watching him walk in the complete opposite direction of his office. A suffocating ache tightened my chest. I tried desperately to make excuses for him. No, it’s just work… Ronny came home early the next morning, and his first stop was the shower. The heavy scent of sex on his clothes was sickening, and a massive wave of nausea hit me. I ran to the bathroom and vomited until I felt empty, the bitter taste of bile filling my mouth. I broke down and cried. Ronny and that girl… they had done everything. So dirty! I curled up in the bathroom corner. Even with all that noise, Ronny didn’t notice. He finished his shower and left the house again. I felt another surge of acid bile. Following a friend’s advice, I used a pregnancy test. Staring at the two clear lines, I was completely stunned. The baby I had longed for had chosen this moment to arrive. I touched my lower abdomen, thinking for a long time. My friend urged me. “Think about it carefully. It’s hard for you to get pregnant. You drank so much herbal medicine just to conceive. Maybe you should keep the baby and ditch the father.” I was lost. I never imagined giving my child an incomplete family. But if I terminated the pregnancy, would my body ever be able to conceive again? I remained in a daze. While chopping vegetables, I accidentally sliced my finger. Blood welled up, but I kept repeating the motion, as if I felt nothing. Until Ronny came back and quickly took the knife away. He seemed to finally take a good look at me. “Seraphina, your condition has been terrible lately. Was that trip not fun?” I answered coldly. “It was pretty awful.” To cheer me up, he took me out for a special candlelight dinner. I bumped into someone around a corner. We looked up, and in that instant, I felt the blood drain from my body. Ronny’s hand, which was holding my arm, tensed slightly. The young woman spoke first, breaking the silence. “Boss, I’m so sorry. Look at me, always walking without watching where I’m going.” She introduced herself with a natural poise. “Hello, Mrs. Maxwell. I’m Ronny’s secretary. I’ve heard so much about how much of a devoted husband the boss is. See how much in love you two are.” I dug my nails into my palm to keep myself from exploding. That necklace—the one Ronny claimed he would return—was now hanging around her neck. Ronny gave a cold, distant nod, even asking the young woman to return to the office to work overtime, making it seem like they were nothing more than employer and employee. At the dinner table, Ronny ordered a feast. The waiter brought out a plate of boiled crab. Ronny even pushed the crab closer to my side of the table. “Your favorite.” He had forgotten. I was severely allergic to crab. It was something that should have never appeared in front of me. Now, however… It seemed someone else liked it, and he was remembering her preferences. Feeling sick, I got up and headed to the restroom. I considered just leaving, turning the opposite way from the main dining area, but I heard voices coming from the corner. Ronny was coldly ordering Laney Vance to leave. “I told you, don’t cause a scene in front of Seraphina. Are you looking to get fired?” But his coldness shattered the next second. The young woman stood up and kissed him. “I know, I just miss you.” Ronny’s ears turned red, his emotional defenses completely broken. He wrapped his arms around Laney and deepened the kiss. Soon, I heard muffled gasps. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I stood rooted to the spot. Ronny pulled back slightly. “I have to go back to dinner. Don’t cause trouble. I’m yours tonight.” They finally emerged from the corner and made direct eye contact with me. The panic on Ronny’s face was unmistakable. “Seraphina, it’s not what you think. Let me explain…” His face was flushed. I gave a bitter smile, and oddly, I felt a heavy weight lift from my chest. I felt a sense of release. “Ronny Maxwell, let’s get a divorce.” It was too obvious. His infidelity was everywhere. He was so careless. I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. Ronny was about to speak again, but Laney clutched her head, looking pained. Ronny immediately rushed to her side, picking her up and hurrying away. “Seraphina, wait for me to come back and explain.” Ronny didn’t come home the next day. He didn’t even call. I booked an appointment for an abortion and contacted a law firm. He probably hadn’t even realized it. Laney Vance was already his priority. As I packed my things, I found our old wedding video and couldn’t resist watching it again. The footage was blurry, and my eyes stung with tears. He had loved me so much then. But the scene changed in my memory, and that other figure appeared again, the unspoken understanding in their intertwined gazes. My hand started shaking uncontrollably. Seven years of marriage. He had been cheating for a long time. I was only just finding out now. Why? If he was cheating and didn’t love me, why did he marry me in the first place? The past seven years of ‘love’ felt like a stinging slap across my face. I was such a fool. Just as I was lost in thought, my phone pinged with a video message. I opened it. It was a montage of Ronny taking care of Laney in the hospital: rubbing her feet, massaging her back, feeding her soup with a spoon… Everything was done with practiced ease, every action something he had once done for me. Only the recipient of the service had changed. Their familiar intimacy was indistinguishable from that of a married couple. I was surprisingly calm. Seven years. A full seven years. They had done everything. It made sense. They might even have a child together already. I composed myself, saved the evidence, and headed for the law firm. Just then, a car sped toward me, driving the wrong way. I couldn’t dodge it in time and was slammed to the ground. As I fell, the world spun. The driver sped away. My abdomen hit the pavement hard. Blood flowed profusely. Excruciating pain shot through my entire body. But all I could think about was the baby. I regretted everything. The child I had suffered so much to conceive, the one I’d taken all those years of herbal medicine for. If I lost this gift from God, would I ever be able to be a mother? I no longer loved Ronny Maxwell, but I loved this tiny life. I wanted to keep the baby. I wanted to be a single mother. I desperately reached for my phone, which had been flung away. I intended to call for an ambulance, but due to the blood loss, my hand was shaking, and I accidentally dialed Ronny’s number, which was set to speed dial. The phone rang. It connected. It sounded like a bar VIP room, the loud noise drowning out my feeble calls for help. My consciousness began to fade. Until the other side went quiet. Ronny, sounding drunk, was encouraged by everyone around him to reveal his darkest secret. “The boldest thing I’ve ever done? Because Laney was afraid I’d have a kid, I put birth control pills in my wife’s food for three years. All her attempts to conceive failed. I even hired someone to fake her medical reports. She was in the dark, thinking she had fertility issues, taking herbal medicine for three years, and she even quit her management job because of it.” Laney kissed Ronny. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Ronny. I have great news too—I’m pregnant.” A burst of cheers erupted, everyone celebrating their sordid affair. I listened, stunned. My baby, as if sensing my despair, made its final attempt to leave my body. I was completely numb. I forgot to even ask for help. Until the call disconnected, and a passerby finally noticed my terrible condition. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed, my mind blank. The doctor followed protocol and tried to contact Ronny, but couldn’t reach him. He was probably drunk, passed out in Laney’s bed, ready for another post-drinking session of passion. The doctor’s face was full of regret. “We couldn’t save the baby, but thankfully, there was no damage to your uterus. Having another child later shouldn’t be a problem.” I thanked the doctor, then looked at the few-months-old fetus. Was he also completely disappointed in his father? The final tear escaped. I signed the divorce papers, copied the phone recording, and mailed them to Laney Vance’s address. Then I arranged for a real estate agent to sell our marital home. With everything taken care of, I boarded a plane, leaving the city behind forever. Ronny Maxwell woke up with Laney in his arms. They lingered together all morning. He felt a nagging uneasiness in his chest but dismissed it as the aftermath of too much drinking. Then, the delivery guy knocked on the door at the worst possible time. “Hello, Mr. Maxwell. I have a package here that needs signing.”

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The tenth time I caught her. Cordelia “Delia” Jennifer in our bed, with a new man. My reaction was less of an eruption, more of a clinical observation. I glanced at my watch, then, with a strange gentleness, offered the young man in the bed a jacket. “Isn’t your prenatal appointment scheduled for the afternoon? Why the early return?” When I didn’t answer, Delia kissed the new face next to her and subtly positioned herself between us, her body a shield. “He’s just a kid. Whatever your issue is, take it up with me.” She fully expected the hysteria. The screaming, the broken glass, the spectacle she’d grown accustomed to. But what she didn’t know was that the ten-year wager was up. I was finally free to leave her. 1. Two distinct, slightly sweaty handprints marred the pristine white of our bedside wedding photo. They were placed perfectly over Delia’s face and mine, making it chillingly easy to visualize the casual intimacy that had just taken place. I inhaled deeply, a long, steady breath, and turned to look at Delia. “We had one rule, Delia. No one in this house.” My voice was a flat monotone. “And for God’s sake, do you remember what day this is?” Delia scoffed, an indifferent smirk playing on her lips. She lit a cigarette, drew deep, and blew the acrid smoke directly into my face. “Drunk. Too many champagne bubbles to remember dates.” Her new boy, a soft-faced kid named Caspian “Cas” Miller, flinched. He fumbled with his clothes, eyes wide with panic as he looked at me. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Seeing him struggle to zip his shirt, I stepped forward and calmly pulled the zipper up the back for him. “It’s fine. You can go.” I gave him a dismissive nod. “I know exactly who Delia is.” This was nothing new. Drunk. Moody. Bored and needing entertainment. Any excuse would do for her. And the kid? He wasn’t the first, the third, or even the eighteenth. Why bother being angry at the wallpaper? Cas scrambled out, terrified, and I called the housekeeper to sanitize the room. The mess, the scattered wrappers—it was repulsive. I pinched the bridge of my nose, pulled out a can of disinfectant spray, and covered the area. That’s when Delia wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. Her head, soft and heavy, nestled into my back. “Good husband. So domestic now, aren’t you?” She squeezed me playfully. “Afraid I wouldn’t come back, or have you finally mastered the art of being a society wife’s accessory?” She seemed satisfied with my silence, then pinched my cheek. “This is better, Wes.” She chuckled. “As long as you stay compliant, I promise no one will ever replace you.” She reached into a pile of glossy gift bags and pulled out a gold wristwatch, strapping it onto my wrist with practiced ease. “There. A reward. Now stop sulking. I know it’s our ten-year anniversary. Wipe your tears, and let’s go celebrate.” She spoke casually, unaware that in the decade we’d been married, my tears had long since dried up. I sidestepped her touch, reaching instead for the crisp document I’d prepared days ago and placed it in her hands. “Delia. We’re getting a divorce.” Her face froze for a beat, then she burst into laughter, loud and jarring. “Stop the drama, Weston. You know perfectly well we can’t get divorced.” She gripped my jaw, her eyes sharp. Her hand traveled down my chest, landing firmly over my heart. “Go get ready. You’re coming with me to the appointment. Don’t start a fight you know you can’t finish.” Years ago, my love for Delia had led me to a scorched-earth break with my family—the powerful Sinclair dynasty of the San Francisco Bay Area. My father, the Magnate, had banished me, forbidding my return home. To punish my impulsive defiance, he leveraged his deep connections to ensure a legal agreement that kept Delia and me locked together: No separation. No divorce. For better or worse, we were bound for life. Back then, Delia knelt before me, swearing she would spend that life proving my choice was worth the exile. Two years later, she cheated for the first time. She stood there, arms around her lover, looking me dead in the eye. “Yes, I’m cheating. What are you going to do about it?” she’d challenged. “Weston, you’re homeless. You’re family-less. You will be stuck with me forever!” I called home, sobbing, begging my family to let me back in. My father hung up. My mother averted her gaze. You made your bed, Wes. Now lie in it. Knowing I was legally and financially trapped, Delia grew bolder, her conquests more public and frequent. Until now, she simply brought them home. She had no idea that when I walked out that day, my father and I had an unstated agreement: A ten-year wager. It was a gamble on the longevity of my “true love.” If I won, he would bring us home and back us fully. If I lost, I was to return and accept a prearranged, politically advantageous marriage. Because of Delia. I had lost the marriage, the bet, and my decade. I had lost everything. While Delia drove, I discreetly dialed a familiar number. “Dad. I lost.” My voice cracked on the final word. “I honor the terms. I’ll be back in the Bay Area in three days for the engagement.” 2. My father, a man who never lost a bet, offered no surprise at the inevitable outcome. He simply gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment and a brief instruction. “Weston, you are my eldest son. This empire still requires its heir. The past is the past, I won’t debate it. But remember one thing.” His voice was a cold, quiet threat. “Don’t bring what shouldn’t come. Don’t leave what shouldn’t stay.” Don’t bring what shouldn’t come: Delia’s child. Don’t leave what shouldn’t stay: The business empire I had built for her. My ten years of pain were to be my final lesson. “I understand, Father.” I hung up as Delia’s impatient horn blasted from the driveway. I climbed into the passenger seat of her car, the seat I’d bought for her, the one that now smelled faintly of another man’s cologne. The drive was silent. She pretended not to notice my profound distance. I pretended not to notice the cloying scent of cheap perfume. As we arrived, Delia habitually reached for my arm to steady herself. Her sleeve pulled back, revealing a long, jagged scar running down her forearm. For a moment, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. She had taken eighteen stitches for me once, ready to give up her life just so we could be together. The woman who once loved me enough to bleed for me… how had she become this? Before I could dwell on the thought, Cas, her lover, rushed over and brazenly hooked his arm through hers. “Delia, babe, you haven’t visited me in forever.” He pouted. “What brings you here? Did your kept man throw a tantrum, or can your new guy not cut it?” It was Caspian Miller, Delia’s current favorite and her longest-running pet project. He rubbed himself against her, acting the spoiled child. Delia merely smiled, ignoring me completely. She pulled a velvet box from her purse. “Don’t be silly, Cas. I’d never forget my little pet.” She showed him the contents: a heavy, antique gold wristwatch. “I flew to the Bay Area just for you. Now, go play. I have an appointment. I’ll come find you after.” She finished by giving him a familiar, proprietary pat on his backside. My eyes landed on the familiar timepiece. I nearly laughed. A woman who clawed her way up from nothing never wasted a dollar. An authentic watch for the lover; a passable forgery for the husband. The cheap metal of the watch on my wrist suddenly felt scalding. I ripped it off and tossed it into the nearest public trash receptacle. As I turned, I heard a group of people nearby, gossiping about us. One tried to move closer, but his friend pulled him back. “Are you crazy? You don’t see the guy next to her?” “That’s… the Magnate’s eldest son.” The Magnate’s eldest son. It had been a long time since I’d heard that title. Cas overheard it too and scoffed. He looked me up and down, pure contempt in his eyes. “’Magnate’s son’? Please. He’s just a useless leach who got kicked out of his rich daddy’s house and sponges off Delia. A lazy gigolo. I hate parasites.” Parasite. What did that make Delia, who built her business on my money and connections? What did that make Cas, who was supported entirely by her? When did these two connect, anyway? Was it during my first car crash? Was it when I drank myself into the ER to close a deal for Delia? Or was it the time I took a bullet for her, ending up in a coma while she was being hunted by rivals? It was so long ago, the memory was a blur. I just remembered that while I was recovering, pale and alone in the hospital bed, Delia started sleeping with the little nurse. While I was struggling to heal, Cas was crawling all over my wife. Years later, Cas was still this brazen. Clearly, Delia had spoiled him rotten. But soon, they would be free to be openly together. My task now was simpler: address the inconvenience in her womb. 3. I ignored the two of them and walked straight into the clinic. Dr. Lee already knew Delia was pregnant. Before he could offer congratulations, I slid the medical reports across his desk. “I need you to terminate the pregnancy.” Dr. Lee stiffened, then reviewed the file with a grim expression. “Mr. Sinclair, are you certain? The baby appears perfectly healthy. You and your wife have been trying for years…” Delia’s first miscarriage was at twenty, early in our time in Dallas. We were poor, living in a cheap, rundown apartment. She complained I couldn’t give her the life she wanted, terminated the pregnancy, and threatened to leave me. I worked myself to exhaustion to build a life for her. When our business finally gained traction, Delia crossed a local crime boss and was kidnapped. To save her, I liquidated everything and got myself hospitalized in the process. I was young, I could have recovered, but I couldn’t bear to see Delia suffer. I pushed my body past its limits just so she could live the good life. The moment I finally paused, Delia started cheating. I spent years chasing lovers and cleaning up her messes. In the process, I ignored my own health, which led to our current inability to conceive naturally. Initially, Delia would kneel at my bedside, saying, “Wes, I see everything you’ve done. I’ll take on the burden and make up for your sacrifice.” But soon after she took over the business, she’d look at me while holding another man. “Wes, I know what you did, but that’s in the past. I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone replace you, and I’ll leave all our wealth to our child. But you need to be a good boy and stop questioning my choices.” Now, I looked out the window at the two of them embracing below. I shook my head, a bitter smile touching my lips. “Prescribe a gentle course of medication. I’m returning to the Bay Area soon, and a child would be inconvenient.” I added, my voice hardening, “Besides, given Delia’s smoking, drinking, and reckless lifestyle, there is no guarantee that a child born into this chaos will be healthy.” My father’s fortune was built on my mother’s family money. Once established, he acquired a rotation of mistresses and a brood of illegitimate children. That history made me crave a pure, honest relationship. But the first time she cheated, Delia showed no remorse. She was indignant. “Weston, what the hell is wrong with you?” she’d yelled. “Your father has dozens of mistresses. Why are you acting like a psycho when I step out once or twice? Think about what your mother did! You grew up in that world—why haven’t you learned how to be a proper rich man’s husband yet?” She used my deepest, most private wound—my childhood trauma—as a weapon against me. In that moment, I knew our love was dead. But because of the ten-year agreement, I couldn’t leave. I was forced to watch her violate my dignity and trample my devotion. The marriage I fought to secure became my prison. The love I desperately protected became her tool for abuse. I had tasted enough of the family and relationship poison. I would not allow an innocent child to repeat the cycle. I would end this irreversible marriage myself. I took the prescription, called Delia, and waited for her to pick up. Though we couldn’t part as friends, I could at least attempt a final show of decency. The phone connected. I heard the muffled sounds of Delia and Cas, mid-embrace, already engaged in suggestive banter. A sudden, sharp pain struck my heart. I looked up at the sprawling Dallas cityscape, slowly being swallowed by the night. I wondered, for a final time, how Delia and I had ended up here. Was it Cas? Or was it… that one incident? 4. It didn’t matter. No reason, no excuse, could negate the concrete reality of the betrayal and the hurt. I flagged a taxi, intending to go home and finish packing. While I waited, I spotted Delia and Cas across the intersection. They were walking hand-in-hand, two figures strolling the busy streets like a couple hopelessly in love. Cas gently caressed Delia’s abdomen, his face alight with affection. “Babe, we’re going to be parents soon. When are you finally going to divorce that old man?” he murmured. “I don’t want my son calling anyone else Dad!” Delia leaned into his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Not yet. Weston still controls some core information about the company. Once I have everything completely secured, then we’ll file the papers.” She then spoke at length about their future: their plans, their life together, how hard she would work to protect this child and give Cas the best life possible. The words, mixed with the cold December air, felt like a thousand tiny cuts. Finally, Delia reached up, unclasped the custom-engraved St. Christopher medal—the very one I had begged and knelt in the snow to acquire, swearing it was a talisman for our future and a symbol of my unending commitment—and fastened it around Cas’s neck. “I’ve named our child Pax,” she said softly. “Peace and prosperity. A beautiful, whole family.” Pax… The child wasn’t mine. The last flicker of love was a lie. I had felt such guilt over her words years ago, losing sleep for days. To prove my love, I had literally humbled myself, walking miles in a blizzard for that piece of jewelry, vowing to make a success of myself. That unborn child was supposed to be the proof of our love. Now, she was giving that medal, my sacrifice, to a pet, a gigolo, transferring the debt she owed me and our first child to him and his child. I took a deep breath, trying to summon indifference. But Cas spotted me. He smirked. “Delia, your sugar-husband is checking up on you again. Look, pal, why are you still trying to be relevant?” He fiddled with the custom locket around his neck, his eyes full of sneering superiority. “If you can’t satisfy your woman, don’t blame other men for stepping up. Instead of standing there looking miserable, go home and figure out what you’ll do when she finally kicks your worthless butt to the curb!” He was trying to provoke a scene, hoping I’d explode and give Delia another excuse. But I was past caring. By sunrise, I would be gone. Back to the Bay Area. And someone else would be taking care of the inconvenience in her womb. I looked at Delia one last time, devoid of any feeling. “You’ll regret it, Delia.” I told her. “Because you forgot who gave you the keys to the kingdom.” Delia started to speak, but Cas cut her off. She looked from him to me, hesitant, before finally turning back. She left me with a half-hearted, “Wait for me. I’ll explain tomorrow.” There would be no tomorrow. The moon cast a cold, silver light. I dragged my exhausted body toward the port. In the final hours before dawn, I paid the housekeeper and instructed her to dispose of all my and Delia’s shared belongings. Then, I simply waited. As the sun began to rise, a sleek private jet descended and stopped directly in front of me. “Young Master. I’m here to take you home.” The plane climbed above the city, condensing a decade of struggle and memory into a single, distant aerial view. From this moment on, Delia and I were separated by an ocean. Never to meet again. … Delia was violently awakened, dragged from the bed in a flash of black suits and efficiency. A cup of foul-tasting liquid was forced down her throat. The child she had anticipated so eagerly soon became nothing more than a painful memory. Furious and terrified, she glared at the dark-suited men who had invaded her hotel room. Before she could demand an answer, a newspaper was thrown at her. The headline screamed: THE MAGNATE’S ELDEST SON WEDS SHIPPING HEIRESS IN SAN FRANCISCO. MAJOR BAY AREA INVESTORS PULL FUNDS; JENNIFER GROUP FACES CATASTROPHIC LIQUIDITY CRISIS.

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The year I asked for a divorce, Caleb Thorne had only one request: give the Thorne family a child. After five years of struggling, I finally got pregnant. But instead of joy, he pinned me against the wall like a madman, eyes red, demanding to know whose bastard it was. I stared at the vasectomy report he threw in my face, eyes stinging, voice gone. No wonder it took so long to conceive. It turns out he had cut off my path from the very beginning. For a moment, I just wanted to laugh. Laugh until I cried. “Yes, I cheated.” “I admitted it. Will you let me go now? Caleb.” 1 Midnight. The man I hadn’t seen for two months pushed open the bedroom door, carrying the biting cold of the snowstorm outside. I had just turned a page of my parenting book. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. His icy hand grabbed my wrist, dragging me all the way to the bathroom and pinning me against the cold tiles. “Explain.” The damp, freezing tiles made my back shiver. I tried to get up, but he pinned my wrists back down. “Explain what?” I stared straight back at him. His dark pupils were full of mockery, his gaze dropping to my still-flat belly. “What do you think?” “While your husband is overseas, you couldn’t wait to carry some wild man’s seed just to complete your task?” The bathroom light was dim. In five years of a cold, distant marriage, this was the first time we faced each other with such hostility. —Because of the unformed child in my belly. I looked at the unmelted snow on his shoulder, my eyes suddenly reddening, a mocking smile on my lips. I thought he rushed back overnight from New York, thousands of miles away, braving a blizzard. Because he was moved by the new life inside me. I even despicably hoped. That the birth of this little life could ease our stalemate. Unfortunately, I guessed wrong. He imprisoned me here, staring at me with bloodshot eyes, to condemn me. For a moment, I found it ridiculous: “You think I cheated?” “What else?” He sneered, his tone even colder. “Five years of marriage and nothing. I leave, and you’re pregnant?” “Pearl, sometimes I really admire you. To be able to diligently act out the role of a woman desperate for a child for five years.” “Were you running to the hospital every day really to prepare your body? Or was it to lay the groundwork for this moment, making this pregnancy seem logical?” Every word dripped with malicious speculation. I listened to him in a daze. After a long while, I clenched my white knuckles and suddenly laughed: “Is that what you’ve always thought of me?” “The baby is eight weeks old. Before you left, we did it once. If it’s not yours, whose is it?” “When the baby is big enough, we can do an amniocentesis DNA test. Why label me a cheater now?” Seeing me defend myself, he laughed aloud, his thumb grinding maliciously on my belly: “My child?” “Then please explain, given that I had a vasectomy five years ago, how exactly did you get pregnant with this child!” Smack! A dazzling white vasectomy report was slammed next to my face. My eyes turned red, completely stunned. 2 Ten years ago, the Thorne family went bankrupt. To break up with him, I aborted our child. Later, he rose again, went to great lengths to marry me, saying I owed him a child. Five years into the marriage, to conceive as soon as possible, I visited every hospital. I, who couldn’t even drink coffee, drank bowl after bowl of nauseating traditional medicine without blinking. I was afraid of pain, yet I let the needles prick my lower abdomen until it was bruised all over. The pain turned into a morbid desire. That was my hope to cut off the past. Once I have a child, I can leave here without burden. Just as he said. We would owe each other nothing. His company was always busy. I had to calculate my ovulation period while avoiding conflicts with his schedule. The man now was nothing like the boy who craved physical touch back then. He was cold and abstinent, no longer keen on intimacy. And I always worked double hard to arouse his interest. Stockings, uniforms, bunny tails… But his reaction was always cold. And that scrutinizing look. It made me feel ashamed from body to soul. Years of effort yielded no results. Of course, I suspected it was Caleb’s problem. That was the third year of marriage. I tentatively asked his assistant and checked all his past medical reports. The next day at the dinner table. He threw two latest reports at me. With many detailed items attached. His was perfect without any abnormality. Mine clearly stated. [Uterine lining is thin, difficult for fertilized egg to implant.] What did he say then? Oh, he looked at me coldly, like looking at a clumsy clown: “Pearl, don’t you know best where the problem lies?” Someone who once hid from everyone to undergo such a painful D&C surgery in a private clinic. How could I have the right to blame him now? I still remember my face turning white with embarrassment. But now. He tells me he had a vasectomy long ago. Then what do the ridicule and torture I suffered in these five years trying to conceive count for? 3 My hands were trembling, shaking so much that tears blurred the words in front of me, fingertips white from gripping. I threw the report in his face, asking with a trembling voice: “Caleb Thorne, is it fun to play me?” If silence and tears cannot earn respect. At least anger can. Temporarily. “Watching me drink medicine and take injections, seeking doctors everywhere, being tortured like a madwoman, are you happy?!” “I told you long ago the Thorne family doesn’t lack a child, YOU wanted to conceive!” He interrupted sternly. “But you promised!” My tears fell uncontrollably, choking so much I couldn’t speak a complete sentence, “You promised, as long as I give you a child, we’re even…” He looked at my tears, silent for a long time. I don’t know how long passed before the man in front of me finally calmed down. Before my “betrayal,” he was the one who set up this scam. He pulled the corner of his mouth with difficulty. “Yes, I did say I would let you go, before you explain clearly.” “After all, I’m not interested in wasting my life on a shameless woman.” Explain? What does he want me to explain? Why did I disappear for four hours at that banquet? Why lie to him with the excuse of my period? And why did the playboy second son of the Jiang family, whom I dated after our breakup, also happen to leave early? 4 Cold wind mixed with snowflakes hit the glass window. The rustling sound was particularly clear in the quiet night. I said: “Nothing happened between him and me.” This was the answer I gave Caleb after thinking for two hours. As soon as this pale defense came out, a substantial piece of evidence was thrown in front of me. —A surveillance video of me stumbling out of a hotel room in the middle of the night. “Now, what else do you have to say?” After a long while, I pinched my white fingertips, my tone calm and numb: “Yes, he sought me out, wanted me to ask you to help his family. I refused.” “And then?” “He pestered me for a few hours, suddenly asked if I really wanted a child, said he could help me.” “Then what did you do?” The mockery in his eyes grew. “I escaped.” I looked up, meeting his scrutinizing gaze. His gaze was sharp as a knife, determined to find any trace of lying on my face. But the mist covered my almond eyes. Except for the redness around the eyes, he could see nothing else. Just like he couldn’t distinguish if my words were sincere back then. I touched my lower abdomen, speaking hoarsely: “Your vasectomy is your business, but I haven’t been with other men. This can only be your child. If you are willing to believe, I can keep it.” “No need.” He didn’t hesitate for a second. “Pearl, the one aborted ten years ago deserved to be called my child.” “But this one now, will never be acknowledged by the Thorne family.” The dusty past was suddenly brought up. He saw the blood drain from my face as he wished, his eyes full of undisguised pleasure: “I’ve already scheduled an abortion for you, tomorrow.” “Some chances only come once in a lifetime. Don’t you think? Pearl.” The heating in the room was strong. But I still felt a bone-chilling cold spreading from my chest to my limbs. It turns out he scheduled the abortion on the plane back. The interrogation was just to confirm his guess. Like a cat playing with a mouse. He just wanted to see me panicked and speechless to vent the hatred in his heart. Not really caring about the truth. After a long while, I released my hand from my abdomen weakly and suddenly laughed: “Yes.” Some chances only come once in a lifetime. So the second chance God gave us. I don’t want it anymore.

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I once co-starred in a BL drama with Caleb Vance. That year, we were both rookies, and thanks to that show, we became overnight sensations. With bright futures ahead of us, neither of us could break character. Even after filming wrapped, we were still drawn together by the emotions from the script. So, we had a brief, secret romance. The reason it was brief was that while the show was airing and at its peak popularity, Caleb said to me: “Perry, I’m out of character now.” When we met again, Caleb was a top-tier A-list celebrity. And I was a has-been who had quit the industry years ago, trying to make a comeback. 1 Meeting Caleb Vance again happened at a small gathering five years later. It was the birthday of Sue, the director who cast us in our first drama. I was invited to her birthday party. Five years had changed a lot. Sue had a few too many drinks and came over to sit in the corner with me. “Perry, if you hadn’t sent me ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘Happy New Year’ texts every year, I would have thought something happened to you.” I smiled. “Thanks for caring, Sue. I’ve actually been doing okay.” Sue’s eyes revealed complex emotions. “It’s such a pity. If you had seized the opportunity back then…” Before she could finish, the door to the private room was pushed open, and a tall figure walked in. I looked up, and my gaze froze. The room was dim, but that face needed no introduction. Caleb Vance. The top A-list star. With hit dramas airing for five consecutive years, his value was self-evident. He was the darling of every major platform. At the same time, he was my co-star in my debut drama. And my ex. Even if only for a little over a month. Five years ago, both he and I were rookie actors who took on Director Sue’s project. It was our first work. From the table read to the wrap party, it took less than six months. At that time, our acting wasn’t natural enough, and the director wasn’t satisfied. So, we practiced privately, starting from reading lines to practicing kiss scenes. When the show aired, the intense chemistry the audience saw in the kiss scenes was something Caleb and I had practiced. However, after filming wrapped, the withdrawal set in. I couldn’t adapt to the abrupt end of intimacy and the return to our original positions. Many times, I dreamed of returning to the set, remembering Caleb’s face and the words he said. The way his peach blossom eyes looked at me. And his kisses. Some feelings sprouted uncontrollably off-camera and grew wildly. For the first time, I tasted the bitterness of love. The drama aired quickly, and Caleb and I met again as the leads. Preparing for promotion. At the cast dinner that night, we both drank. I deliberately kept my distance, burying the feelings I shouldn’t have had. That night, many crew members got drunk, so we booked rooms in the hotel next door. My room was next to Caleb’s. Walking side by side to our doors, I maintained my rationality and said goodbye to him. The door opened. I was about to walk in. Suddenly, a force came from behind, pushing me into the room. Immediately after, the person behind me stepped in and closed the door. Before I could react, I saw Caleb, who had been silent all night, pinning me against the door. Just like in the drama, he grabbed my waist and neck, lowering his voice to ask: “Perry, can I kiss you?” 2 He asked, but he didn’t intend to seek my permission. As soon as the words fell, the kiss surged forward. Shock flashed in my eyes, and I instinctively tried to push him away. But the man was built strong; I couldn’t push him away. And the muscle memory from the past few months made the kiss seem natural. I wrapped my arms around his neck. The withdrawal of the past month had been too hard to bear. This kiss seemed vengeful, igniting a fire while filling the emptiness in my chest. I was thrown onto the hotel bed by Caleb. He pressed down, and the kiss changed flavor. It was then I realized that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t moved on. I am two years older than Caleb. That night, he whispered “Perry” in my ear many times. But without the camera, Caleb was much more reckless. Like a puppy, he bit people, leaving licking kisses on my body, telling me with a hoarse voice: “I wanted to do this to you on set.” My heart tightened, completely occupied by the aggression in his eyes. Caleb and I became official. That year, the BL genre exploded. For newcomers like Caleb and me, it was undoubtedly an overnight success. During the broadcast, he and I met almost every day for videos, livestreams, and various events. Our popularity skyrocketed at an alarming rate, albeit very flimsy. Scripts came one after another, but not all were good scripts or roles. For Caleb and me, focusing on promotion and fan service was important at the moment. The ambiguous marketing shown in front of the camera was nothing compared to us in private. Caleb wasn’t as gentle as he looked. Overwhelming fame is always intoxicating. At that time, I imagined a future with Caleb, but I didn’t have time to think further. As the drama neared its end, I clearly felt Caleb drifting away. He replied to my messages less frequently and stopped initiating conversations. Until the last joint event. After it ended, I wanted to talk to him. But Caleb spoke first. He said: “Perry, I’m out of character now.” I froze. The intimacy of that period turned into the phrase “out of character.” Caleb said: “It wouldn’t be good for either of us if this got out. Let’s just… pretend it never happened.” He detached quickly, took on the next script, and joined the new cast. I couldn’t pester him. First, I couldn’t bring myself to stalk him; second, I didn’t want to ruin him. At least he was honest and decisive. My withdrawal was even more painful. Unlike what Caleb envisioned, I didn’t continue in the entertainment industry. Too many things happened that year, and I quit. For the next five years, I didn’t appear again. Netizens went from initial regret to forgetting me. In contrast, Caleb’s popularity rose steadily. A crime drama two years ago catapulted him to top-tier status. Slowly, the work that gave us our start became a past he couldn’t mention. The face in my memory overlapped with the person in front of me. Caleb was right there. “Sue, Happy Birthday.” Sue smiled, the corners of her mouth rising in a nice arc. “Hey, Mr. Vance graced us with his presence to bless me. Of course I’m happy.” “Aren’t you still filming?” When Caleb walked over, he had already greeted everyone along the way. Now he chuckled lightly: “Just wrapped up, rushed over immediately.” Sue looked at him, then at me: “Caleb, remember him? This is Perry.” So Caleb’s gaze finally slowly fell on my face. Those peach blossom eyes that usually charmed everyone weren’t very warm right now. They held a depth I didn’t understand, and the smile on his face faded. Probably didn’t want to see me. “I remember,” his tone was flat. “Long time no see, Mr. Perry.” Mr. Perry. Before, he called me Perry, or bro. Before I could say anything, I heard him ask: “Is Mr. Perry planning a comeback?” 3 When Caleb asked this, I was actually a bit surprised. In my view, we parted ways five years ago. His current status isn’t something I can touch. To him, I’m just an irrelevant person. “Caleb, how did you know?” Sue smiled. “Perry is different from before. He’s funding himself to be a director. He’s handling the script and casting personally.” This was actually why I contacted Sue. Times have changed. The subjects she films now are very different from the past. Even if I wanted to audition for her, it wouldn’t be easy. I thought I had no connections in the circle, and having quit for years, I was basically a nobody. “This kid, if he didn’t want to find a few suitable actors, he probably wouldn’t have contacted me.” I laughed: “Sue, if you say that, I’ll be embarrassed to ask for your help in the future.” Sue has a hearty personality. She patted my shoulder: “Perry, the market is different now. I’m not sure if your money will go down the drain, but if there’s anything I can help with, just ask.” Caleb was pulled by her to sit down. Not long after, people in the private room came over one after another to toast him and Sue. To my surprise, Caleb drank every glass. I remember before, he didn’t really like drinking. When we socialized together, I always found ways to block drinks for him. Of course, now I don’t have that standing, nor that intention. The party ended. Sue was drunk and was helped away by her assistant. Others slowly dispersed too. I was about to call a car when a figure walked out from behind me, voice devoid of emotion: “Where do you live now? I’ll drive you back.” The familiar yet strange voice made me pause. “No need, Mr. Vance,” I looked back calmly at the man in front of me. “I won’t take up your time.” He was already wearing a mask, and the exposed eyes held no emotion. “It won’t take up time,” a black car slowly stopped by the road. Caleb said, “Besides, we can catch up.” Actually, I didn’t know what there was to catch up on between him and me. When he proposed breaking up back then, he was eager to clear ties with me. Thinking of this, I suddenly looked into his eyes with a flash of insight. In those eyes that once mesmerized me, the color was calm. “Mr. Vance, don’t worry. No one else will know about what happened before. Let’s just pretend it never happened,” I said. I intended to give him peace of mind. It’s been five years. I’m not that petty. He walked fast and climbed high in these five years, but he walked it step by step. I couldn’t do anything to ruin his career. For the sake of that initial palpitation, I also hope he does well. 4 Unexpectedly, after hearing my words, Caleb’s eyes grew colder. The phone showed the driver was over a hundred meters away, but the man beside me suddenly walked past me silently and got straight into the car. I couldn’t read his emotions. Probably relieved, so he couldn’t be bothered to pretend with me. My car arrived. That night, I rarely dreamed of Caleb again. 20-year-old Caleb. Young, at an age not yet savvy about the ways of the world. Not professionally trained, said to be scouted. Just started acting, knew nothing. I was only slightly better than him, guiding him bit by bit. My brief romance with him wasn’t actually that unforgettable. It just ended abruptly, making it hard to forget. The images in the dream were like a revolving lantern, without logic. The intense kiss scenes on set and the reckless kisses in private became nightmare-like existences. As the saying goes, one shouldn’t meet someone too amazing when young. Waking up, back to reality. I sat up holding my heavy head, washed up simply, packed my luggage, and went to Hollywood. Contacting Sue was actually almost six months ago. Later, my crew was assembled, suitable actors selected, and filming is currently underway. Yesterday was Sue’s birthday, and I specially went to congratulate her. Budget insufficient, all expenses must be calculated carefully. The emotional fluctuation brought by seeing Caleb again after five years quickly returned to calm after returning to the set. During my absence, the crew’s progress didn’t lag. This is still a BL story. My partner is a newcomer who debuted two years ago, named Leo. Good looks, lacking a real opportunity to shine. Coincidentally, he is also 20 years old. Just like Caleb back then. Sue introduced him to me. This young man didn’t really want to take this kind of role. He refused at first. I felt it was a pity, rare to find a suitable candidate. Later Sue persuaded him, and he agreed. I asked her how she persuaded him. The famous Director Sue laughed: “I said Caleb Vance became an instant hit after working with you. You bring luck to your partners. So he agreed.” “…” “Perry, you’re back?” Leo walked over grinning. This kid was shy when he first arrived, but now he gets along well with everyone on the crew. “How was shooting yesterday?” I asked him. “Sister Lulu made me shoot the monologue a dozen times. I’m really scared of her,” Leo put his arm around my shoulder like a buddy. “Perry is better.” I habitually comforted him: “Lulu just wants to capture the perfect shot. Cooperate with her more.” “Got it, bro. Do we need to rehearse tonight’s scene?” he suddenly asked. Tonight’s scene. I suddenly remembered, tonight we are shooting my first kiss scene with him. To be an actor, to film a love story, kiss scenes and bed scenes are inevitable. I chuckled: “Sure.” Although it’s a kiss scene, it’s all filmed in front of the camera. It doesn’t matter where we rehearse. I kissed Caleb in front of the camera for months back then; I’m long immune. When guiding Leo, I could even calmly suggest which angle he should kiss from, how he should breathe, and how his eyes and movements should tease. The young, energetic lad’s ears turned red. Like this kind of green young man, actually the most fun.

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Waiting for my vasectomy, I found a top-voted post: “What’s the cruelest revenge on a man?” The top answer: “Pretend to be his best friend, then steal everything he’s proud of.” “I did this to my childhood friend. His parents see me as their real son, giving me a higher job than him. His wife—his high school sweetheart—gave me her first time in his newly renovated home. His kids? Mine. They call me ‘Daddy.’ With one word, she got him to agree to a permanent vasectomy. Idiot.” “Perfect. Now he’ll never have kids.” Comments were mixed, but many asked: “Why destroy him?” The poster admitted: “He was better than me at everything, always arrogant. I hated him. So I took over his life—piece by piece.” “Right now, he’s alone at the hospital, waiting for surgery. Meanwhile, I’m with his wife, planning to use this box of condoms tonight.” His latest photo showed a thirteen-pack of Magnums on my bedroom nightstand. 1 The moment I saw that photo, my blood ran cold. I finally realized that the pathetic fool pitied by over a hundred thousand people… was me. And the person who wrote that post was, without a doubt, the man I’d considered my best friend my whole life: Marcus Finch. “So what if you all flame me? You can talk trash online, but in the real world, I’m the one driving a Bentley, living in a mansion, and sleeping with another man’s beautiful wife. My life is straight out of a power fantasy novel!” Marcus was completely unfazed by the criticism, even taunting his detractors. “It’s anonymous anyway, so no one knows who I am. Might as well show you something even better.” He posted another picture. A woman in a bunny costume was sitting at her vanity, her back to the camera. Her figure was enough to drive any man wild. And on her shoulder blade was a small, peach-blossom-shaped birthmark. “Holy shit, so you weren’t bluffing? Your buddy’s wife is a knockout. Drop her number, I wanna be his buddy too!” “It’s a shame to keep a woman like that all to yourself. I mean, her husband’s already wearing one green hat, what’s a hundred more? Share the love, bro!” My hands were trembling with rage as I read the disgusting comments under the photo. On countless nights of passionate lovemaking, I had traced that birthmark on Sophie’s shoulder with my kisses, believing it was a delicate flower that bloomed only for me. But now, that flower had been exposed in the most vulgar way, subjected to the lewd jokes of thousands of men. A fire burned in my chest, the blood rushing to my head. And at that exact moment, a young nurse walked up to me with a clipboard. “Mr. Lucas Vance? It’s your turn for the procedure. Please bring your medical chart and follow me to the operating room.” Before she could finish, I had already ripped the chart into pieces. “I’m not doing it. Call the next person.” My face was a mask of cold fury. I stood up and walked away, dialing Sophie’s number as I went. She had told me her mother was sick and that she needed to stay with her tonight, which was why she couldn’t come with me to the hospital. I tried video-calling three times before she finally picked up, but she left her camera off. “Honey, why are you calling so late? Is the surgery over?” Sophie’s voice was a little breathless, with a hint of playful complaint. “You can’t fool me, you know. I’ve already given you a son and a daughter, I really don’t want any more.” “If you truly love me, you’ll go through with this completely. And you have to get a certificate from the doctor proving you’re permanently sterile!” 2 I didn’t even need to listen closely to know what was happening on the other end of the line. The fire in my chest roared hotter. I opened my mouth to confront her. But the words died on my lips. I couldn’t show my hand yet. They had been planning this for years; a direct confrontation would only hurt me. I clenched my jaw, forcing the inferno inside me down. “It’s done over here. Don’t worry about it.” Sophie’s voice instantly brightened, filled with unconcealed joy. “I knew you loved me most, honey. I’ll be sure to reward you properly when you get home.” Then, in a hurry, she hung up. With the rage forcibly suppressed, I drove home. As I pushed open the door, I heard the cheerful chatter of my son and daughter from the living room. They were laughing about something, full of life. They heard the door and turned, calling out in unison, “Daddy!” But when they saw it was me standing in the doorway, their smiles vanished. Their lips pressed into thin lines, their eyes filled with disappointment. They didn’t even move toward me. They just turned back to each other and started whispering, as if I were a complete stranger. The sight sent a familiar, sharp pain through my heart. It had always been like this. No matter how hard I tried to be a good father, my efforts were met with emotional indifference. But whenever Marcus was around, even if he did nothing at all, the children would flock to him. I had felt lost because of it, even jealous, but Sophie always comforted me, saying that kids were just like that with their fathers when they were young, and they’d grow out of it. Thinking back on it now, I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh. How could I have been so stupid? The signs were all there, but I had been deceiving myself, refusing to look closer. Normally, even with their coldness, I would have walked over with a smile, pulling out the gifts I’d bought to win them over. I could never bring myself to scold them, even when they threw tantrums. But now, I didn’t even look at them. I ignored their reaction completely, changed my shoes, and sat down on the living room sofa. A few moments later, the bedroom door opened, and Sophie walked out. Her hair was still damp against her neck, and a complex scent clung to her. I knew exactly what had happened here while I was at the hospital. She saw me and immediately smiled, turning to the nanny. “Mrs. Davis, could you take the children down to the garden to play for a while? Make sure they’re safe.” The nanny nodded and led the reluctant children out the door. The living room fell silent. Sophie walked over to me, leaning in close, her warm breath brushing against my ear. “Honey, I have a surprise for you. Come to the bedroom with me?” I glanced up at her, silent for a few seconds, then stood and followed her into the bedroom. The moment we were inside, Sophie untied her robe. It fell to the floor, revealing the bunny costume from the photo. The tight outfit clung to her curves, and the peach blossom on her shoulder seemed to mock me. It was a sight that once would have sent a thrill through me. But today, my stomach churned. A wave of intense nausea washed over me, and I frowned. “I just had surgery. It’s not a good time.” I spoke coolly. Sophie’s smile froze for an instant, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. But she quickly composed herself, putting on a caring facade as she approached me. When I didn’t move, she didn’t get angry. She just cooed softly. “It’s okay. I know you might be uncomfortable right after the procedure, but you can just bear with it.” “Didn’t the doctor say it wouldn’t affect anything? I want you right now…” 3 Sensing my coldness, Sophie paused, then turned and took a box from the drawer, holding it out to me. “Honey, I had someone bring this back from abroad for you. It’s a special supplement, perfect for your current condition. It’ll help you recover faster.” I glanced at the box. The packaging was exquisite, covered in a foreign script I couldn’t read. The seal was clearly broken. Someone had already opened it. I remained indifferent, neither taking it nor speaking. Sophie’s patience was wearing thin. The smile faded from her face, and her tone became tinged with annoyance. “Honey, I know you did this for me, but you can’t treat me like this.” “I went to all this trouble to get you supplements and prepare a surprise, and this is how you act? If you don’t want to see me, I’ll just leave.” With that, she feigned hurt, grabbed her robe, and stormed out of the bedroom into the guest room. I took out my phone and searched for the brand name on the box, but no matter how much I looked, I couldn’t find any information. On a whim, I went back to the forum post. Marcus had updated it. “She’s going to go greet my idiot friend wearing that bunny costume. I didn’t even have her wash it first. The thought of it is just hilarious.” A comment immediately appeared below. “Dude, didn’t your friend just get a vasectomy? You’re making his wife wear that, but will he even be able to perform?” Marcus replied quickly: “Don’t worry, I already prepared a special supplement for him. Check out the picture.” He attached a photo of the exact same box Sophie had just given me. “This stuff is from the Middle East. It’s a potent aphrodisiac, the kind they give to studs at stud farms. I guarantee he’ll be able to get it up tonight.” “I just wonder if he’ll lose his mind when he finds out what he’s taking.” Someone tried to warn him: “Dude, don’t take it too far. You could kill him.” But Marcus was cavalier: “So what if he dies? He’s a useless waste of space anyway. But don’t worry, I have another surprise in store for him. I can’t let him die just yet.” The commenters went wild, begging to know what the surprise was, but Marcus was enjoying the suspense. “Be patient. You’ll all find out soon enough. I promise it’ll be spectacular.” I stared at the screen, a strange sense of curiosity rising within me. What was this “surprise” Marcus was talking about? He had already pushed me this far. What other tricks could he possibly have up his sleeve? I took a screenshot of the post and sent the link to a hacker, asking him to trace the IP address and identity of the user. Half an hour later, the results came back. It was, of course, Marcus himself, and the address was his residence in the city. After backing up all the evidence, my phone rang. It was my father. I answered, and his voice came through, sharp and angry. “Lucas! What the hell are you doing? Why did you upset Sophie again?” “Tomorrow is my sixtieth birthday. On such an important occasion, you’re causing trouble at home. It’s disgraceful!” I frowned but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “I don’t care what your reasons are. Go to the guest room right now and apologize to Sophie. I will not have her feeling wronged in this house again!” With that, he hung up. I didn’t need to guess what had happened. Sophie had been playing her games again. I opened the family group chat and scrolled up. It didn’t take long to find the source.

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“This engine… something’s wrong.” The mechanic at the dealership slid out from under the hood, a strange expression on his face. I froze. “What do you mean, wrong?” “Your car came with an imported engine,” he said, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. “This one… isn’t it.” I stared into the open hood. Three months ago, when my aunt borrowed my car, everything inside was brand new. “So what is it now?” The mechanic glanced at me, hesitating. “Wait here a second. Let me get the shop foreman.” 1 Three months ago, I was eating dinner when my Aunt Linda came over. “Ava, sweetie, I have a huge favor to ask.” Aunt Linda sat across from me, smiling that overly affectionate smile. I knew it well. Since I was a kid, that smile was always followed by “Can I borrow…?” “What is it, Aunt Linda?” “Could I borrow your car for a month?” My chopsticks paused in mid-air. My car was a Mercedes C-Class, bought three years ago. The sticker price was $65,000. I put down $45,000 myself and had just paid off the rest of the loan. “You need a car?” “Well, your cousin’s husband’s company is organizing a road trip to the Grand Canyon. Your uncle’s old Honda is too beat up. It would be embarrassing to drive that.” My mom chimed in from the side. “Your aunt really has no other options. Just let her use it for a month.” “But I need it for work.” “Can’t you take the subway? It’s just a month,” Mom glared at me. “Your aunt is asking you personally. Can you really say no?” Aunt Linda grabbed my hand, her tone sincere. “Ava, I promise I’ll take good care of it. I’ll bring it back washed and clean. If there’s even a scratch, I’ll pay for it.” I looked at my mom’s expectant face, then at Aunt Linda. “Fine.” “Oh, Ava is such a good girl!” Aunt Linda stood up immediately. “Where are the keys? We leave tomorrow.” “Auntie, I haven’t…” “Don’t worry, I’ve been driving for twenty years. My skills are great. It’s automatic, right? Perfect, easy to drive.” I handed her the keys, feeling uneasy. “Auntie, the odometer is at 20,000 miles. I filled the tank. When you bring it back…” “I know, I know, I’ll fill it up.” Aunt Linda grabbed the keys. “One month, max. I promise.” That night, lying in bed, I felt something was off. But Mom said, “Your aunt wouldn’t lie to you. You’re overthinking it.” What I didn’t expect was that “one month” turned into three. Month one: Aunt Linda said the Grand Canyon was beautiful and wanted to stay longer. Month two: She said they drove up to Yellowstone since they were already out west. Month three: She said the car had a “little issue” and needed repairs before coming back. I asked three times when I’d get my car back. First time: “Soon, soon, don’t rush me.” Second time: “It’s good exercise for a young girl to take the subway.” Third time: She ghosted my texts. Mom told me not to be petty. “Your aunt rarely gets to travel. Can’t you be generous?” Three months later, Aunt Linda finally returned the car. She parked it downstairs, didn’t come up, called to say the keys were at the front desk, and told me to get them myself. By the time I got downstairs, she was gone. I walked around the car. The exterior looked okay, freshly washed. But something felt wrong. I opened the door. The smell of stale smoke hit me. I don’t smoke. Odometer: 28,000 miles. It was 20,000 when she took it. Three months, 8,000 miles. I sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. The sound was wrong. It used to purr smoothly. Now it sounded… rough. I thought maybe I just hadn’t driven it in a while. But driving down the block, I felt it. The power was off. There was a lag when accelerating. That never happened before. My heart sank. I called Aunt Linda. “Auntie, is something wrong with the car? It feels weird.” “Nothing! It’s fine. You’re just not used to it.” “You said there was a small issue before. What did you fix?” “Just an oil change. No big deal.” “Where did you fix it?” “Some roadside shop. Forgot the name.” I hung up, the feeling of wrongness growing. The next day, I took time off work and drove to the dealership. “Full inspection, please.” The service advisor asked, “Has this car been in an accident recently?” “I don’t know. I lent it to a relative.” “Okay, have a seat in the lounge. We’ll let you know.” I waited for nearly two hours. Then, the shop foreman came to find me personally. “Ma’am, can we talk in private?” His expression was serious. My stomach dropped. 2 The foreman led me to a small office, holding a stack of printed reports. “Ma’am, the situation with your car is… complicated.” “What situation?” “First off, your engine… has been swapped.” I froze. “Swapped? What do you mean?” “Your car came with an original imported engine, model M264,” he pointed to a number on the report. “But the one inside right now is a domestic salvage part.” “Salvage part?” “Taken from a totaled or scrapped car, refurbished for reuse.” My head buzzed. “Are you sure?” “Positive. Engines have serial numbers. We checked. It doesn’t match your vehicle registration at all.” “How… how is that possible?” The foreman looked at me calmly. He’d clearly seen this before. “You lent this car out for the last three months, right?” “Yes, to my aunt.” “Then it likely happened during that time. The wear and tear on this engine doesn’t match your odometer. Plus, swapping an engine isn’t a small job. A certified shop would have records. We checked; your VIN has no history of engine work.” “So it was done at an unauthorized shop?” “Most likely.” I took a deep breath. “How much is my original engine worth?” “Original imported M264, brand new with labor? Around $25,000.” “And this one?” He hesitated. “This is a salvage part, poor quality. If I had to price it… maybe $1,200 max.” $25,000. $1,200. The numbers spun in my head. “Anything else?” “A few things,” he flipped a page. “Transmission shows signs of leaking, likely from bottoming out. Brake pads are heavily worn, unusual for normal driving unless there was constant hard braking. Also, the rear bumper has been repainted. Looks like a rear-end collision, repaired privately without insurance.” “Privately?” “Yes, no record. The bodywork is shoddy.” I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Three months. 8,000 miles. Engine swapped for junk. Leaking transmission. Worn brakes. Accident damage. What did Aunt Linda say? “I promise I’ll take good care of it.” “If there’s even a scratch, I’ll pay for it.” I laughed. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry. “Can I get a written report of all this?” “Yes, I’ll print it out.” “Photos too.” “No problem.” The foreman stood up. At the door, he looked back. “Ma’am, just so you know. Insurance won’t cover this because the engine swap isn’t an accident. If you want to pursue this, you’ll have to deal with the person who borrowed it, or go to court.” “I understand.” He left. I sat alone in the office for a long time. Then, I called Aunt Linda. “Auntie, I need to ask you something.” “What is it?” Her tone was breezy. “You got the car back, what else?” “About the engine.” Silence for two seconds. “What engine?” “Auntie, I took the car to the dealer today. They said my engine was swapped.” “…What?” “The original imported engine was replaced with a salvage part.” Silence again. Then her voice hurried. “Impossible. I drove it fine. Why would I swap the engine? Are you being scammed by the dealer? They love ripping people off.” “Auntie, I have the report. The serial numbers don’t match.” “Well… I didn’t do it!” “Then who did?” “How should I know!” Her voice raised. “I just drove it normally! Don’t pin everything on me!” “You said there was a small issue and you got it fixed outside.” “Just an oil change! Does an oil change swap an engine?” “Which shop was it? What’s the name?” “I told you I forgot! Why so many questions?” I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Auntie, the original engine is worth $25,000. This one is worth $1,200. That’s a difference of over $23,000.” Dead silence on the other end. After ten seconds, she spoke. “Ava, what are you trying to say?” “I’m saying, you need to pay for this.” “Pay? Pay $23,000?” Her voice turned shrill. “Are you crazy? I borrow your car and you try to extort me for $23,000?” “You swapped my engine for junk.” “I didn’t! It has nothing to do with me!” “Auntie, I got the car back from your hands.” “Well I don’t know what happened! Anyway, I didn’t do it!” I didn’t want to argue over the phone. “Fine, Auntie. Let’s talk in person.” “Nothing to talk about!” Click. She hung up. I looked at the inspection report in my hand. My hands were shaking. Not from sadness. From rage. 3 When I got home that night, Mom already knew. Obviously, Aunt Linda struck first. “Ava, how could you talk to your aunt like that?” I slammed the report on the table. “Mom, look at this.” She glanced at it but didn’t pick it up. “I don’t understand this technical stuff.” “The engine was swapped. The original was $25,000. This one is junk worth $1,200.” “What do you mean swapped? Your aunt wouldn’t do that.” “She had the car. It happened on her watch.” “Do you have proof? Did you see her do it?” “Mom, it was original when she took it, and junk when she returned it. Who else?” Mom frowned. “Your aunt said she drove normally. You believe the dealership? They just want your money.” “Mom, the serial numbers don’t match. That’s hard evidence.” “I don’t know about numbers. But you can’t talk to your aunt like that. She’s your elder.” I inhaled sharply. “Mom, it’s $23,000. Not $23.” “I know. But you can’t be sure it was her. Maybe the shop scammed her?” “Then it’s still her responsibility for taking it there.” “Responsibility, schmonsibility…” Mom waved her hand. “I know your aunt. She wouldn’t do this. There must be a misunderstanding.” “Mom, whose side are you on?” “Whose side?” Mom glared. “Yours! I’m afraid if you blow this up, we can’t face the family anymore!” “So I just eat a $23,000 loss?” “I didn’t say that. I said watch your tone. Talk to your aunt nicely, maybe she’ll admit it?” “Nicely? She said it has nothing to do with her.” “Try again. She’s stubborn. You have to coax her.” “Coax her?” “Yes! You’re the younger generation. Soften up, give her an out. She cares about face. Let her save some.” I laughed, a helpless, bitter laugh. “Mom, my property was destroyed, and I have to apologize?” “Destroyed? The car still drives, doesn’t it?” “With a junk engine that could fail any minute? You call that drivable?” “Then fix it.” “Fix it? A $25,000 part replaced by a $1,000 part, and I just ‘fix it’?” Mom choked, looking unhappy. “Why are you so difficult? I’m doing this for you! If you make a scene, are you going to the family reunion? What if your aunt holds a grudge?” “She scammed me out of $23,000, and I’m worried she’ll hold a grudge?” “You…” Mom sighed, softening her tone. “Ava, listen to me. We can’t offend your aunt. Your uncle, your cousins, they’re all close to her. If you fight her, you’ll look bad.” “Look bad?” “Yes. People will say you’re ungrateful, fighting over money with family.” I stared at my mom for a few seconds. “Mom, do you know I paid off that loan for three years? $600 a month, never missed a payment.” “I know…” “You don’t. You just know to lend it to Auntie. You don’t know how hard I worked.” “Ava…” “Enough, Mom. I’ll handle this.” I took the report and went to my room. As I closed the door, I heard Mom sigh. “This child, why so stubborn…” I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. $23,000. For me, that’s nearly a year of savings. For Aunt Linda, it’s a “small matter.” For Mom, it’s “not worth fighting over.” But why? Because she’s my elder? Because she’s Mom’s sister? Because I should be the “good girl”? I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the texts from when she borrowed the car. [Aunt Linda]: Ava honey, let me borrow the car for a month. I promise I’ll cherish it. [Me]: Okay Auntie. Odometer is 20k. Tank is full. [Aunt Linda]: Don’t worry, I got this. I screenshotted it. Then I scrolled down to the extensions. [Aunt Linda]: Ava, the Canyon is amazing. Want to stay a few more days. [Me]: Okay, when will you be back? [Aunt Linda]: Give it another week. Two weeks later. [Aunt Linda]: Ava, we went to Yellowstone since we were close. Pity to miss it. [Me]: Auntie, commuting is really hard for me… [Aunt Linda]: Subway is good exercise. One month later. [Aunt Linda]: Car had a small issue out of state. Fixing it then coming back. [Me]: What issue? Serious? [Aunt Linda]: Not serious, relax. I screenshotted everything. She said “small issue,” fixed it. Now the engine is gone. I googled: Engine swapped by borrower, legal recourse. Most posts said “hard.” Without direct proof, it’s hard to prove who swapped it. But some said, strict liability. Whoever borrowed the car is responsible for returning it in the same condition. I checked the time. 11 PM. Tomorrow, I’m doing something. 4 The next day was Saturday. I asked Aunt Linda to meet. I picked a coffee shop. Mom insisted on coming to “mediate.” Aunt Linda arrived late, bringing my cousin Jessica. As soon as she sat down, Aunt Linda started. “Ava, dragging me out here? Is this an interrogation?” “Auntie, I just want to clear things up.” “Clear what up? I told you I didn’t swap it. What more do you want?” “Auntie, you promised to take care of the car.” “I did!” “Then where’s the engine?” Aunt Linda scowled. “What are you implying? You think I swapped it? Why would I steal your engine?” “Then tell me how the car ended up like this.” “How should I know!” Her voice rose. “I drove normally. Hit some mountain roads in Utah. Felt a lag on a hill once, so I found a shop to check. They said it was fine, just changed the oil.” “Just an oil change?” “Yes, just oil!” “What shop? Where?” “I told you I forgot! We were in a rush!” I placed the inspection report on the table. “Auntie, look at this.” She glanced at it but didn’t touch it. “I won’t look. I don’t understand it.” “The serial numbers don’t match. Original was imported M264. This is a domestic salvage part.” “Numbers, schmumbers. You believe the dealer’s lies?” “Auntie, this is a technical inspection, not a lie.” “Fine, fine, whatever you say.” She laughed coldly. “You’ve already convicted me, what can I say?” Cousin Jessica spoke up. “Ava, just say what you want. Why beat around the bush?” I looked at Jessica. “Cuz, I just want to know how the engine disappeared.” “You asked my mom, she said she doesn’t know. What else?” “Does ‘I don’t know’ absolve responsibility?” “What responsibility?” Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Do you have proof my mom swapped it? Did you see it?” “The car left her hands with an engine and came back without one. Of course she’s responsible.” “Responsible? You lend a car and create a liability?” Mom tugged my arm. “Ava, watch your tone…” I took a deep breath. “Auntie, Jessica. I’m not hunting for who swapped it. I’m saying, someone has to pay for the loss.” “You want my mom to pay?” Jessica sneered. “$23,000? Why don’t you rob a bank?” “The difference in value is $23,800.” “Fine, $23,800.” Jessica spread her hands. “You want my mom to cough up $23,800?” “Shouldn’t she?” “Why? My mom didn’t do it on purpose!” “Does accidental damage mean you don’t have to pay?” “You…” Jessica wanted to argue, but Aunt Linda stopped her. “Enough.” Aunt Linda looked at me, her face changing. “Ava, let me ask you. Are you dead set on fighting me over this?” “Auntie, this isn’t fighting. This is protecting my rights.” “Rights?” She scoffed. “Talking about rights with your aunt? How did your mother raise you?” “This has nothing to do with how I was raised.” “Of course it does!” She turned to Mom. “Sis, look at your daughter. What is she saying? I’m her elder!” Mom looked embarrassed. “Ava, watch what you say…” “Mom, what did I say wrong?” “You…” Aunt Linda interrupted. “Fine. I get it.” She pulled out her phone, scrolled, and shoved the screen at me. “Look. This is the shop I found in Utah. Here’s the Venmo record. $150 total. Just an oil change and service fee. If you don’t believe me, go check yourself.” I looked at the transaction. Recipient: Mike’s Auto. Location: Some town in Utah. $150. “Auntie, an engine swap costs more than $150.” “Exactly!” She pulled the phone back. “I never swapped the engine! Just changed the oil! The engine has nothing to do with me!” “Then how is it gone?” “I don’t know! Maybe the shop stole it! Maybe the dealer is lying! Not me!” She looked so self-righteous. As if she were the victim. “Auntie, I can investigate that shop.” “Go ahead.” She stood up. “I’ve said my piece. Not my fault. If you want to pin it on me, fine.” “Auntie, I’m not pinning it on you. I’m talking reason.” “Reason?” She huffed. “If you knew reason, you wouldn’t be counting pennies with your aunt.” She grabbed her bag and looked at Mom. “Sis, I can’t control your daughter. You handle her.” She walked out without looking back. Jessica followed, throwing one last line over her shoulder: “Ava, you’re hilarious. Over a used car? Really?” They left. The coffee shop was quiet. Mom looked at me and sighed. “Look. Look at what you did. You upset your aunt.” “Mom, she swapped my engine for junk. I can’t ask?” “Your attitude… who can stand that?” “What attitude? I was polite.” “Every word you said was forcing her to admit guilt. Would she?” “She did wrong, why can’t she admit it?” “Ava, why don’t you get it?” Mom lowered her voice. “Your aunt has pride. The more you push, the more she denies. You have to coax her, give her a way out.” “Coax?” “Yes. Apologize first, say you were rude, then talk slowly.” “Mom, apologize for what? I’m the victim.” “You apologize to solve the problem!” “Is this how problems are solved?” I looked at Mom, feeling a deep sadness. “Mom, do you know? Growing up, every time Auntie took advantage of us, you told me to endure. When she gave my toys to Jessica, you said share. When she borrowed my $500 savings in college and didn’t pay back for two years, you said family doesn’t count debts. Now she swapped my engine, and you want me to apologize?” “Ava…” “Mom, answer me. Are you on my side, or hers?” Mom froze. “I… of course I’m on your side…” “Then can you support me in getting this money back?” Mom opened her mouth but said nothing. I waited a few seconds. “Mom, I understand. You don’t want conflict. But I can’t let this go. $23,000 is two years of my life.” I stood up. “You don’t have to help me. But don’t stop me.” I took the report and left.

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The giant baby intern in HR accidentally sent a termination email to the entire company. The whole department panicked and packed up to leave. Afterward, she cried her heart out, blaming herself. Not only was she completely unharmed, but the boss also rewarded her with a seven-day paid vacation and a $10,000 “emotional distress” bonus. Meanwhile, we, who believed the email was real, were marked as “absent without leave.” We were publicly reprimanded, and our performance bonuses were docked! Even worse, our combined year-end bonuses—totaling $100,000—were seized to pay for her compensation! I led the charge to confront the boss, but she immediately played the victim. “Ah! The Wicked Witch is here! So scary! Is she going to eat me? Save me, Daddy CEO!” Before the boss could even speak, my colleagues, desperate to suck up, instantly turned on me. “Exactly! You have zero empathy. Why are you picking on a fresh grad?” “No wonder you’re thirty and single. With a heart that toxic, you deserve to be alone!” In that moment, I became public enemy number one. The boss fired me on the spot for “destroying team unity.” Looking at their ugly faces, I laughed out of pure rage, ripped off my badge, and walked away. Since you all want to protect her so badly, I hope that when the IRS knocks on your door tomorrow… Your “Baby” can explain those dual accounting books. 1 Tuesday, 10:00 AM. The work group chat exploded. An email, bolded and highlighted in red, popped up for every employee. From: HR – Bella “Cutie Pie” Swan Subject: [NOTICE OF TERMINATION] The content was simple and brutal: [Because my computer screen keeps flickering and bullying me, Baby has decided to send you all home! Effective immediately, all employment contracts are terminated. Hmph! Don’t come back!] The office fell into a deathly silence, followed by an eruption of screams. “Holy sh*t? Did the company go under?” “The reason is her computer bullied her? What kind of insane excuse is that?” “Why are you just standing there? Grab your stuff! If you’re late, you won’t even get your laptop!” Someone shouted, and chaos ensued. As the CFO, my first reaction was to rush to the CEO, Simon Vance’s office. Empty. I went to find Bella. Her desk was empty too. I called Simon a dozen times. Straight to voicemail. Now even I was panicking. I manage the money. I knew the books were… flexible… but not “sudden death” flexible. But the boss is missing, and HR sent a termination letter. Isn’t this the standard procedure for a rug pull? Panic is contagious. Swept up by the crowd, I packed my personal items and went home in defeat. That night, the main group chat was chaos. Some were cursing, some crying about mortgages, others were already contacting lawyers for a class-action lawsuit. Then, early the next morning, a message from Simon popped up. [Everyone, get your asses back to work immediately!] [Anyone one minute late loses their entire month’s bonus!] Not bankrupt? Confused, we rushed back to the office. Pushing open the conference room doors, we saw Bella curled up in Simon’s lap. She actually had a pacifier in her mouth! “Daddy Simon, I really didn’t mean to.” “I wanted to send the Afternoon Tea notification, but my hand slipped, and the mouse was being naughty! Bad mouse!” I stood at the door, my brain trembling. Afternoon Tea notification and Termination Letter. One is under “Admin,” the other under “HR.” They are miles apart in the system, and you need a admin password to confirm sending the latter. And you “slipped”? Suppressing my rage, I walked in. “Mr. Vance, since it’s a misunderstanding, everyone can just get back to work. No need for such anger.” Simon looked up, his eyes ready to devour me. While gently patting Bella, he pointed at me and roared: “Joanna! Do you have no shame?” “You are the CFO! A senior executive! Yet you have zero composure!” “Bella is just a child! She made a small mistake, and instead of fixing it, you led the charge to loot company assets and skipped work!” I laughed in disbelief. “Mr. Vance, that was a termination letter with the official company seal, not a game of house.” “And Bella, as HR, made a low-level error that shut down the entire company. Shouldn’t she be held accountable?” Before I finished, Bella suddenly wailed. She spat out the pacifier and kicked her legs wildly on the chair: “Waaaah! The big sister is so mean! She’s going to eat me!” “I want to go home! I don’t want to work! There are monsters here! Boohoo!” Heartbroken, Simon hugged her tight and screamed at me: “Joanna! Shut up! Look how scared you’ve made Bella!” “She’s still an intern! Can she be compared to old veterans like you?” Then, Simon announced a decision that blew everyone’s mind. “Given that Bella made a mistake, her attitude is sincere, and she has been traumatized.” “I am approving a special seven-day paid leave, fully covered by the company, plus a $10,000 emotional distress bonus.” “As for you!” He glared around the room. “Yesterday’s collective absence without leave warrants a public reprimand for everyone!” “This month’s performance bonuses are forfeited! Any losses caused will be deducted from your salaries!” “Additionally, everyone’s year-end bonus will be docked to pay for Bella’s compensation!” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me? She made the mistake, why are you deducting our money?!” Before I could argue further, my colleagues—who were calling the boss a son of a b*tch in the group chat yesterday—suddenly changed their tune. Old Tom from Sales jumped out first, fawning: “Director Joanna, Bella is young, it’s her first job. Mistakes are normal.” Then, the Admin lady chimed in: “Yeah, this is just tough love for Bella.” Even Emily, the apprentice I trained for three years, lowered her head and whispered: “Master, just stop talking. Don’t make Mr. Vance angry and drag us all down…” Looking at these spineless cowards, I felt sick to my stomach. Bella peeked out from Simon’s embrace, picked up the drool-covered pacifier, and stuck it back in her mouth. She gave me a provocative smirk: “Bad woman! I’ll beat you up! Neener neener!” 2 During Bella’s seven-day leave, the company turned into chaos. Before she left, to prevent another “slip,” she changed the entire company system font to “Comic Sans.” Looking at that font made my eyes bleed. Even more ridiculous, she locked everyone’s system permissions. Her reason: “What if someone secretly changes data to bully me while I’m gone? Baby needs to protect herself.” New hires couldn’t be onboarded. Payroll couldn’t be processed. I went to Simon. He was busy liking Bella’s Instagram posts. Without looking up, he said: “Don’t bother me with trifles. Wait until Bella comes back.” “She is in her emotional healing period. No one is allowed to disturb her!” Fine. I swallowed my disgust, returned to the finance office, looked at the mountain of unprocessed invoices, and sneered. Seven days later, Bella finally returned. She came in with bags of plushies and merch. She fluttered around the office like a butterfly. “Tom, here’s a keychain. Hope you won’t be so mean in the future.” “Linda, here’s a sticker for your laptop. It’ll make you happy!” Holding these cheap trinkets, everyone acted like they were moved to tears. Bella walked up to me and tossed a squashed candy on my desk. “Sister Joanna, I saved this specially for you.” She blinked her big eyes, looking innocent. Colleagues immediately chimed in: “Director, aren’t you going to thank Bella?” “Bella repays evil with kindness. Learn from her!” I looked at the crushed candy and swept it into the trash. “No thanks. It’s work hours.” “The HR system isn’t restored. We can’t do payroll this month. Do you want everyone to starve?” Mentioning payroll, Bella suddenly laughed through her tears, as if remembering something fun. “Oh, Daddy Simon! I was just going to tell you!” “I invented a new way to calculate wages called the Mood Performance Method!” She pulled out a pink notebook covered in drawings of smiley and crying faces. “From now on, everyone’s salary will be based on how I feel when I see them!” “If you make me happy, you get a bonus! If you make me unhappy, I deduct money!” “This way, everyone will be more loving and united! Right, Daddy Simon?” I was trembling with rage. This was the biggest joke in the world! But Simon slapped his thigh in approval: “Great! What a brilliant idea!” “It’s human-centric and lively! Breaks the rigid financial system!” “Do as Bella says! Bella is in charge of payroll this month!” I immediately objected: “Mr. Vance, this violates audit procedures. If the IRS checks…” “Shut up!” Simon cut me off rudely. “Laws, taxes… Joanna, you’re annoying.” “I opened this company. I pay how I want!” I looked around. The colleagues who usually fought over every cent on their pay stubs didn’t say a word. They knew that in this company, sucking up to the giant baby was more effective than working hard. Under Bella’s Mood Performance Management, the company became a giant kindergarten. Every morning, instead of clocking in, we had to do a “Good Morning Dance” for Bella. Old Tom, a burly man, pinched his fingers and meowed like a cat for that extra $100. I almost vomited my breakfast. Because I refused to participate in this idiocy, not only did I lose my attendance bonus, but I became the source of “negative energy” in Bella’s eyes. “Sister Joanna, why aren’t you smiling?” Bella stood at my desk with her pink notebook. I ignored her and continued checking the messy manual ledgers. Since the reform, all reimbursement forms became her coloring book. On a $2,000 dining invoice, she drew a giant pig head and wrote: [This place tastes bad. Denied!] On a request for office supplies, she put stickers and wrote: [This notebook is ugly. I’ll approve if it’s pink~] I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed into Simon’s office with the receipts. “Mr. Vance, I can’t do these accounts!” “Bella is blocking legitimate business expenses and approving nonsense!” I slammed the receipts on his desk. “Look at this. ‘Emotional Healing Boba Tea’, $300? Is she drinking gold?” “And this. ‘Aesthetic Improvement JK Uniform’. This is an office expense?” Simon was gaming with headphones on. He looked annoyed. “Isn’t this good? It shows Bella treats the company like home.” “Joanna, as CFO, you need to open your mind.” “But…” “Enough ‘buts’!” Simon threw his headphones. “If you can’t do it, just say so. Stop complaining.” “Bella is learning finance fast. If you keep this attitude, she can have your job!” Give it to her? To a giant baby who doesn’t know debit from credit and only draws smiley faces? Before I could retort, Bella pushed the door open. “Daddy Simon, is Sister Joanna badmouthing me again?” “Why is she so insensible? She doesn’t understand my good intentions. I’m saving money for the company.” Simon instantly switched to a smile: “Of course not. Baby is the best.” “It’s Joanna who is narrow-minded and jealous of your excellence.” Bella leaned into him, blinking at me. Her eyes held zero innocence and 100% malice. “Daddy Simon, since Sister Joanna is so unhappy, let her handle the IRS inspection tomorrow.” My heart skipped a beat. The IRS was coming for a routine check tomorrow. If they saw these books… we’d be fined into oblivion! “No!” I refused flatly. “The current accounts cannot be seen!” Simon’s face darkened. “Why not? I think Bella’s accounts are cute and creative!” “Joanna, if you can’t handle this small thing, don’t bother coming in tomorrow!” Bella fanned the flames: “Yeah, isn’t Sister Joanna a top university grad? Can’t even handle this?” “If you’re scared, beg me. Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll act cute for the IRS officer and make it go away.” Beg her? I looked at the delusional couple. My anger cooled into icy resolve. Since you want to die, don’t blame me for handing you the knife. 3 The next morning, before the IRS arrived, the company exploded. It was payday. According to Bella’s Mood Performance Method, pay slips were distributed. “WTF? Why is my salary only $50?” Old Tom, the sales champ, was shaking. “I ran my legs off last month. My commission alone should be $2,000. How is it $50?” Everyone went mad, surrounding the finance office with red eyes. “Joanna! Get out here!” “Did you embezzle our money? You black-hearted accountant!” Of course, the blame fell on me. I calmly sipped my coffee and pointed to a pink poster on the door. Bella’s crooked handwriting read: [Love Salary Ranking]. “Don’t blame me.” “The payroll was drawn by Bella and signed by Simon.” “She said you guys performed well but looked too old, affecting her ‘Baby Aura’, so she deducted an ‘Ugly Tax’.” Hearing this, they almost fainted from rage. Just then, Bella arrived on Simon’s arm. “Anyone who dares to make trouble is disobeying management! Fired immediately! No severance!” Simon roared with a dark face. Threatened with unemployment, the mob deflated instantly. Old Tom gritted his teeth and forced a smile uglier than crying: “We… we accept it.” “Miss Bella is right. We aren’t pretty enough. We will improve.” Bella lifted her chin proudly, looking down at me: “See, Joanna?” “This is charisma.” She suddenly pulled a stack of papers from her bag and threw them in my face. “What is this?” I picked it up. A termination notice. Reason: [Destroying team unity, bullying newcomers, evil intentions.] “You’re fired.” Bella smiled sweetly. Simon added from behind: “Not only are you fired, but the $10,000 emotional distress fee will be deducted from your final pay!” The colleagues, eager to please the crazy couple, kicked me while I was down. “Yeah, Joanna, just leave. Don’t drag us down.” “Hated your stinking face anyway.” “You bullied Bella, you deserve it!” Looking at these clowns, I suddenly found it funny. I took off my badge and placed it on the desk. “Fine. I’ll go.” As I walked to the door, someone knocked. Bella shouted impatiently: “Who is it? Can’t you see Baby is giving a lecture?” She pulled the door open. Standing there were four or five men in uniforms, looking stern. The leader held up a badge. Bella looked at their uniforms and burst out laughing. “Daddy Simon! Look at this old witch Joanna!” “She hired extras to scare me! Wearing costumes and everything.” In that moment, I clearly saw the officer’s face turn black as coal. Simon came over, looking at them with disdain: “Joanna, how childish are you? Get out with your circus troupe! Or I’ll call the police!” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the down button. “Mr. Vance, Bella, you misunderstand.” “That is Section Chief Liu from the IRS and Captain Zhao from Economic Crimes.” “They aren’t actors. They are here to audit the books after I reported you with my real name.” “Here is all the evidence of dual accounting, tax evasion, and embezzlement.” The elevator doors closed slowly. In the last sliver, I saw Bella’s face twist in horror and the glint of handcuffs in Chief Liu’s hand. “Good luck.” 4 The doors were about to shut. Bella screamed and pried them open. “You can’t leave! Bad woman!” She bit Chief Liu’s wrist, drawing blood. “Daddy Simon! Beat these bad guys! They’re bullying Baby!” Chief Liu grimaced and slammed her onto the floor with a takedown. Bella’s face pressed against the tiles, legs kicking wildly. “Waaah! Murder! Help!” Simon charged like a madman but was handcuffed instantly by Captain Zhao. “Assaulting an officer, resisting tax investigation, obstruction of justice. Take them away!” The office was chaos. I watched coldly, but felt uneasy. Simon was too calm. Even in cuffs, his eyes were full of contempt and madness. “Joanna, you think this will kill me?” “Bella is my lucky charm. If you touch her, heaven will punish you!” I ignored his ravings and cooperated with the police. However, less than 24 hours later. I had just finished organizing evidence at a cafe when my phone rang. It was Emily, crying. “Sister Joanna, look at the group… Mr. Vance and Bella are back!” How? Assaulting police plus tax evasion—ironclad evidence. How could they be out? I opened the group chat. Simon sent ten $200 red envelopes. Note: [Celebrating Baby’s Survival of the Ordeal!] Bella posted a selfie. She was wearing a pink tutu, sitting on Simon’s desk, holding scissors. Background: shredded paper—copies of the tax records sealed by the IRS. Caption: [Hmph! Police station day trip is over! The police uncle said Baby is too cute to lock up! Die mad, bad woman! Neener neener!] I called Captain Zhao immediately. His tone was helpless: “Ms. Joanna, Simon took all the blame. He said he ordered everything and Bella is mentally challenged and was manipulated.” “Also, Simon used connections and paid bail. He’s applying for a review. We had to release them for now.” “But don’t worry, they are restricted from leaving the country.” I took a deep breath. Mentally challenged? What a way to escape. Before I could think, another @All popped up. Simon: [Notice: Due to Joanna’s malicious reporting damaging the company’s magnetic field. To soothe Bella’s wounded soul, effective immediately, the company initiates the “Baby Guardian Plan”.] [All employees must surrender their ID cards and passports to prevent betrayal!] [Those who refuse will be fired and must pay 10 times the breach of contract fee!] This wasn’t management; it was imprisonment and extortion. Terrifyingly, the chat filled with “Received.” Those colleagues with mortgages were completely trapped. I gripped my phone. If the law is slow, don’t blame me for using commercial means. I called Mr. Zhou, head of the investment firm that was Simon’s biggest backer—and my current new boss. “Mr. Zhou, the VAM agreement is triggered.” “Simon’s behavior constitutes a severe threat to asset safety.” “I apply for a hostile takeover.” Silence for two seconds. “Granted. Joanna, take the security team and close the net.” With a team of black-clad bodyguards, I returned to the company. The scene that greeted me shattered my worldview. The fingerprint scanner was smashed. In its place was a giant pink bouncy castle. The receptionist wore an oversized bib and a pacifier, scrubbing the floor on her knees. Seeing me, she dropped the pacifier, teary-eyed. “Joanna… sister…” “Shh! No talking!” Bella’s voice came from inside. “Daddy Simon said Baby’s world must be pure!” “Everyone must make baby noises! Anyone who doesn’t sound like a baby can’t go to the bathroom!” I kicked open the bouncy castle door and marched in. In the office, dozens of adults, men and women, wore pink baby bonnets. Old Tom, the balding man in his forties, was crawling at Bella’s feet, shaking a rattle. “Goo goo gaga…” Bella sat in the boss’s chair, feet resting on Tom’s back. “Good boy! Have a candy!” Old Tom swallowed his humiliation and the candy with a smile. “Enough!” I shouted. My bodyguards swarmed in, securing the scene instantly. Bella jumped up, startled. “Wah! The Wicked Witch brought the Black Magic Fairies!” “Daddy Simon! Save me! Baby is scared!” Simon rushed out from the inner room. Dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Joanna! You dare come back!” I looked at him coldly and pulled out the termination letter and takeover notice. “Simon, according to the investment agreement, you have been removed by the board for gross misconduct.” “Now, pack your sh*t and get out.” Simon froze. Then he laughed maniacally. “Remove me? Hahaha! You dare? I have Bella! She is the Chosen One!” “The Master said, the more she acts out in my company, the more prosperous I become!” “This is destruction before creation! You know nothing!” Just as I suspected. This was the real reason he indulged her. Not lust, but cult-like superstition. “I think your brain is flooded.” I waved my hand. “Clear the room! Everyone unrelated, out!” Bodyguards moved to evict the employees in bibs. Seeing this, Bella screamed and ran toward the server room. “Don’t touch my house! I’ll burn your house down!” She held a lighter. “Bella! Don’t!” Simon panicked, trying to stop her. But Bella was fast. She kicked open the server room door and threw the lit lighter onto a pile of paper archives near the server vents. Flames shot up instantly. Alarms blared. I was stunned. She actually set the fire! “Fire! Put out the fire!” I roared and rushed forward. But Bella stood before the flames, clapping and laughing. “So warm! Bonfire party!” “Burn the Wicked Witch! Burn the Black Fairies!” Simon stood by, watching the fire, a look of twisted obsession on his face. “Fire… fire creates earth, earth creates gold…” “Prosperity! It’s coming!” “Bella really brings me luck! This fire is good!” Lunatics. All of them. The fire spread fast. Smoke filled the hallway. The bodyguards grabbed me, abandoning the arrest. “Ms. Joanna! The fire is too big! Go!” I was pushed into the stairwell. Looking back one last time, I saw Bella riding on Simon’s shoulders, dancing in front of the inferno.

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“1 I was born sun-allergic—even a short exposure burned my skin. Overwhelmed, my father left. My mother divorced him at once, threw herself into work to pay for my treatments and became a powerful businesswoman, traveling the world with me to find a cure. At five, a psychic said a second child could be my spiritual shield. The next day, she brought home an orphan girl named Pearl. “Your job is to protect your sister,” Mom told her. Pearl smiled sweetly: “I’ll keep Mary safe for life.” Charming and Mom’s favorite, she was put in full charge of me. But Pearl hated me—she shone flashlights at me in the dark and lied to Mom about my misdeeds, acting perfect when Mom was home. I cried to tell the truth, only to be scolded: “Your sister is lovely, Mary. Be grateful.” Mom’s eyes grew colder, so I stopped speaking up, even hiding my blistered, bleeding wounds. On my eighth birthday, Pearl tricked me into staying in the sun all day. I knew I was dying. That night, two strange men came to my bed. “Before I die,” I whispered, “could I feel Mom’s love one last time?” The man in white sighed: “Swap souls with your sister for a day.” The man in black objected: “That’s against the rules.” Amid their argument, something went wrong—Mom’s soul entered my body instead of Pearl’s. … The white-suited man’s face, once pale, flushed a deep red. His impossibly long tongue shot out and wrapped around his partner’s neck. “Look what you’ve done! Now there are two souls in one body!” The man in black casually unwound the tongue with one hand and placed the other on my head. He smiled. “Technically, it’s one and a half.” “Half of her soul remains in her own body, and the other half will stay with you for a day. Are you willing, little one?” Feeling my mother inside me… it was the warmest I had ever felt. I smiled at them and nodded vigorously. Before they vanished, they spoke in unison. “We will return for you tomorrow.” 2 After they left, I tiptoed into my mother’s bedroom. The men had said she wouldn’t wake for another day. I tucked the blankets around her, making sure she wouldn’t get cold. She looked so peaceful. Content, I returned to my own bed, waiting for my mother’s half-soul to wake up and talk to me. But it wasn’t Mom I was met with. It was Pearl. She entered my room carrying a brand-new lamp. I dreaded those lamps. This one had a symbol on it: UVC MAX. I didn’t know what the letters meant, but I knew that light made my skin burn with a pain that was beyond words. This was the 99th lamp Pearl had brought home. She was always finding new ways to make me cry, to make me suffer. Instinctively, I pulled on my sun-protective hoodie and mask. Pearl ripped the hoodie off me, her voice sharp with anger. “What are you hiding for, Mary? You made a mistake. Don’t you know how to atone for your sins?” I stared at the lamp in her hand, trembling. I dropped to my knees, begging. “Pearl, I didn’t do anything today! I came straight home and went to my room. I didn’t even eat dinner.” She didn’t believe me. She ground her foot onto my hand, pressing down, her weight a crushing force. “You little liar! Fraud! Mom barely has time to come home, and you used it to tattle on me again, didn’t you?!” I tore my hand free from under her shoe, the sudden movement sending me sprawling backward onto the floor. I was terrified of her. I could only curl into a ball, protecting my head. “I didn’t, Pearl,” I whimpered. Her teeth were clenched. “You didn’t? Then why didn’t Mom hug me when she got home today?” I shook my head frantically. “She must have been tired from work. Pearl, I’m really not lying.” Her eyes were bloodshot in the moonlight, her mouth opening and closing like the witch from a fairy tale. “You spent the whole day in the sun. Why aren’t you dead yet?!” Without another word, she flicked the switch on the lamp. She aimed the harsh beam directly at my exposed face and arms. Agonizing pain spread like fire across my skin. The sores, already raw, began to bleed again. “Aah! Pearl, it hurts! Please, I’m begging you, please stop!” Perhaps it was the searing pain that did it, but at that moment, my mother’s soul woke up inside me. She was stunned, a silent observer to the horror. Pearl’s face was a twisted, ferocious mask in the pale light. It took Mom a moment to process it. Pearl, what are you doing?! Where did you get a lamp like that? You know your sister can’t be exposed to this light! But the girl before us didn’t flinch. She moved the lamp even closer. Mom panicked, using my small hands to push it away. Put it down! It’s me, Mom, do you hear me? Pearl looked at me as if I were insane. “Mary, you’ve really lost your mind!” Mom began to fight her, using my own small body. But even though we were the same age, my frail, weakened frame was no match for Pearl’s healthy one. After a brief struggle, Pearl shoved me hard to the ground. She loomed over me, her voice a low growl. “You’ve really gone too far this time, Mary!” The next second, she cranked the lamp to its highest setting. The intense light hit my arm, and the weeping, open sores were instantly scorched black. Blood and pus seeped through the fabric of my sleeve, spreading into a dark, crimson stain. “Aah! It hurts… It hurts so much!” I heard the screams, thin and desperate. That wasn’t my voice. It was my mother’s. For years, the burning, blistering pain had been a constant companion. I was numb to it. But my mother was not. This was the first time she had ever felt it. The agony made her groan inside my body, her every breath a shudder. A tight, sharp pain bloomed in my own chest, choking me, leaving me unable to speak. It was my fault. I was the one making my mother hurt like this. I glared at Pearl, my hand fumbling for something on the nightstand. With all the strength I had left, I threw it at the lamp. It shattered, sending shards of glass flying. One of them sliced Pearl’s cheek. She clutched her face, glanced nervously toward Mom’s room, and then turned back to me, her eyes filled with hatred. “Just you wait, Mary. I’ll deal with you tomorrow!” I looked down at what I had thrown. It was my favorite photograph. My heart ached as I picked it up. It was from before Pearl came, a picture of Mom holding me at Disneyland. We were both smiling so brightly then. I gently wiped a smudge off my mother’s face in the photo. After a long silence, she finally spoke inside my head. Mary, how am I in your body? And… has Pearl always been like this? I bit my lip, saying nothing. I was afraid that if I said the wrong thing, she would get angry with me again, just like before. When I didn’t answer, she asked again. Why didn’t you tell me? Then, she answered her own question. It’s my fault. You did tell me. It was me… it was me who didn’t believe you. Yes. I had told her three years ago. The first time was right after Pearl arrived. She “”fell”” down the stairs and blamed me. “Mary doesn’t like me,” she’d sobbed. “She thinks I’m stealing her mommy.” Back then, Mom had held Pearl in her arms and given me a look I had never seen before. The second time was shortly after we started elementary school. She hid my protective face mask during lunch. It was the summer solstice, and the sun was brutal. I was sick all over by the time I got home. “Pearl hid my mask,” I told Mom. But Mom found the mask in my bedroom. “Mary, you forgot it yourself. Why would you blame your sister?” She punished me by sending me to bed without dinner. When Pearl brought a tray of food to my room, my mouth watered. But just as I reached for it, she knocked it to the floor. Then she ran to Mom, crying, “Mary said she’d rather starve than see my face! Maybe I should just go back to the orphanage.” Mom stopped her, then turned to me, her voice furious. “Mary, if you bully your sister one more time, I’m sending you to the orphanage!” Pearl leaned against my mother’s shoulder, her body shaking with fake sobs, a triumphant smirk hidden on her face. That was when I understood. No matter what I said, my mother would never believe me again. I didn’t want to go to the orphanage. I wanted to stay with my mom forever. So there was a third time, and a fourth, and countless more after that. No matter how Pearl hurt me, no matter how much pain I was in, I never told my mother again. And now, I only had one day left to live. “It’s not your fault, Mommy,” I told her. “It’s my fault for being sick.” “Don’t be scared, Mommy. After tomorrow, you’ll be okay again. Just stay with me for one day, okay?” Her voice in my head was choked with tears. Mary, for these past three years, I was wrong… I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I promise, from now on, I will be with you for the rest of our lives. I desperately wanted to hug her, to tell her it was okay. But I couldn’t. And we didn’t have a lifetime. Still, to feel her this close to me… it filled me with a peace and happiness I couldn’t describe. That night felt like when I was very little. My mother and I talked for a long, long time. So long that I started to believe tomorrow would never come. 3 I woke early the next morning. Out of habit, I went to the kitchen trash can, picked out yesterday’s leftovers, and began stuffing them into my mouth. Mom’s voice was shocked. Mary, why are you eating out of the garbage? My mouth was full. “I didn’t eat at all yesterday,” I mumbled. “I’m so hungry I could faint.” “It’s okay, Mommy.” I peeled a hard-boiled egg I’d found. “See? This one is still clean.” This was my last day with her. I needed my strength. Where is your breakfast? she asked. Doesn’t anyone make you breakfast? I lowered my head, not answering. From the dining table, I could hear laughter. It was our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, scrolling through videos on her phone. Mom’s anger flared. Where is Mary’s breakfast? Mrs. Gable stared at me, a puzzled look on her face as if she’d never seen me before. “Pearl is the young lady of this house. Who do you think you are, shouting orders?” Mom was incredulous. Even the help treated me this way. She was about to lash out again, but I grabbed my backpack and fled the house. I knew that if I talked back to Mrs. Gable, she would punish me too. Once, when Mom was away, I had simply said, “Ma’am, I’m hungry.” She and Pearl locked me in my room for three days without food. When they finally let me out, they told me to eat with Sunny. Sunny was our guard dog. I was so hungry back then that even the dog food tasted good. So, for me, leftovers from the trash were a feast. Outside, Pearl was already in the car. As I put one foot inside, the door slammed shut. BANG. My fingers were caught in the jamb. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes. “Do you really think you deserve to ride in a car, Mary?” Pearl sneered. She turned to our driver. “Let’s go!” The car sped away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I stood there, clutching my throbbing fingers. “Mommy,” I whispered. “I have to walk to school today. I’m going to be late. Are… are you mad at me?” Her voice was tight. So this is why you were always late? I nodded slightly. Halfway there, it started to rain. Luckily, I had an umbrella. But when I opened it, it was riddled with holes, big and small. This was the umbrella Mom had bought me at Disneyland when I was five. I loved it. But now it was ruined. Inside, scrawled in big red letters, were five words: MARY IS A PIG! I knew it was Pearl’s doing. Mom’s voice was a low growl. When I get back in my own body tomorrow, I’m going to make that girl pay! “It’s okay, Mommy,” I said, trying to soothe her. “Let’s just go to school.” I folded the broken umbrella and put it in my bag, walking on through the downpour. The rain got heavier, soaking my clothes through. The cold water seeped onto my skin, and a thousand tiny needles of pain pricked at me. Mom must have been hurting even more. Suddenly, I felt so stupid. I couldn’t even protect an umbrella. I was making my mother suffer with me. I was so sorry. The rain fell harder. My eyes felt wet, but I hadn’t cried in a very, very long time. It was my mother. She was crying. She didn’t speak for the rest of the walk. But I could feel her sadness, heavy and silent inside me. “

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I was having Christmas Eve dinner with my parents when my wife’s assistant, Brendan Cole, suddenly called and unleashed a torrent of abuse. “Arthur Reid, have you been washing your brain along with the laundry all day? I warned you repeatedly, Ms. Clarke is working overtime on a project this holiday, and no one is to disturb her! You act like you don’t understand basic English, sending your parents to cause trouble, almost ruining months of company effort! Can you bear the consequences of that?” “If you can’t control those two senile old fools, I don’t mind giving them a proper lesson myself!” Completely bewildered, I looked at my parents sitting across from me. “Brendan, aren’t you mistaken? My parents are clearly…” Brendan scoffed. From the other end of the line, I suddenly heard familiar cries and pleas. “Stop, what right do you have to hit us? We were just worried about Sophia working over Christmas, trying to bring her some homemade pot pies…” I snapped back to reality, gritting my teeth as I roared. “Brendan, are you insane? They’re Sophia Clarke’s parents!” Brendan let out a mocking laugh. “Still won’t admit your mistake? Pulling the ‘respected elder’ card won’t work on me! Get them! Beat the old fools senseless! I want to see how tough their mouths really are!” … The horrific screams from the phone line turned my mind to ice. “You’re mad, you’ve completely lost it! I’m warning you, tell Sophia immediately to get them to a hospital! Otherwise, you’re finished!” Sophia had worked overtime every Christmas for the past three years. My in-laws must have wanted to surprise her, traveling all the way from their hometown. While I was a little surprised, there was no mistaking their voices. This bastard Brendan dared to abuse his power, acting like a complete tyrant! Sophia would never let him get away with this! Yet, in response to my warning, Brendan’s laughter grew louder, laced with heavy derision. “You’re a useless kept man, lying around at home, and you’re threatening me now? Do you really think just because you got lucky and married Ms. Clarke, your whole family can get away with bullying everyone?” “Without Ms. Clarke, you’re nothing!” As he spoke, another scream echoed from the other end. Brendan cackled, “I’ve got your old man under my boot right now! Come on, let me see how you plan to kill me!” My temper flared. “You’ve gone too far!” I knew Brendan always looked down on me. Constantly hinting that I was a freeloader. But Sophia always advised me not to stoop to the level of a young hothead like Brendan. “If others knew that besides our office tower, your family owns three other buildings collecting rent, people would get jealous! Don’t flash your wealth. Society is so volatile these days; I don’t want you to be targeted or get into any danger.” I wondered if Sophia would regret it when she learned Brendan had mistaken her parents for mine, subjecting them to such unrestrained brutality and humiliation. For the sake of my in-laws’ safety, I forced myself to calm down, squeezing out a reply through clenched teeth. “Brendan, I advise you not to make things worse! Tell Sophia about this immediately, there’s still a chance to salvage the situation…” Brendan, however, sighed. “What a spineless wretch. I was waiting for you to come kill me, but you’ve chickened out? After all that talk, you still have to use Ms. Clarke to pressure me?” “You want me to let your parents go? Simple. Kneel all night outside the corporate tower, admit your mistake, and confess you’re a useless kept man!” Amidst a burst of laughter from the other side, the call disconnected. My heart pounded with anxiety. I immediately stood up from the table, mumbled an excuse to my aging parents, and rushed to my car, speeding towards the office. Along the way, I floored the accelerator. First, I called the police, then tried Sophia’s number again and again. After more than a dozen calls, she finally picked up. “Arthur, what is it? I’m really busy here.” I rarely lost my temper with her. “What’s so busy about a lousy company? Don’t you know, your parents are being beaten half to death by Brendan!” Sophia’s own temper flared. “Arthur, what do you mean? Is it just because I didn’t come back to spend the holidays with you? Why are you being so sarcastic? Are all your promises to support my work just lies?” “And what did Brendan ever do to you? You can’t just slander him like this because you’re jealous of his success, can you?” I was almost laughing from pure exasperation. What was there to be jealous of Brendan for? “No, do you think I’m joking? Go check right now what Brendan has done! Those are your parents, don’t you care if they live or die? What’s wrong with them wanting to bring you a warm pot pie because they felt you were working too hard on Christmas? How dare Brendan—” Before I could finish, Sophia cut me off impatiently. “Enough! I’m really busy right now, I don’t have time for your made-up stories! If you really can’t stand Brendan, I’ll fire him once this project is done, alright? Are you satisfied now?” The dial tone that followed left me utterly numb. I called back, but she had blocked my number. Arriving at the corporate tower, I immediately spotted the scattered, trampled pot pies on the ground. And the horrifying bloodstains! My heart clenched. “Mom, Dad… where are you?!” I slammed the car door shut and rushed inside, only to be surrounded by several security guards. “What do you want? Stop! No unauthorized personnel allowed!” I scanned them; they looked unfamiliar. “I’m your Ms. Clarke’s husband, Arthur Reid!” However, as soon as I spoke, the guards’ eyes lit up. “So this is the guy Mr. Cole told us to teach a lesson? What a pathetic loser, trying to steal Mr. Cole’s woman!” Before I could react, the lead guard slammed a baton squarely on my head. My vision went black, and I tumbled to the ground. “What are you… what are you doing? Stop it! Have you gone mad, hitting me too?” But they showed no mercy. They rushed forward, kicking and punching me. “Heh, you deserve it, you shameless piece of trash! Why don’t you take a good look at yourself? Do you really think you’re worthy of Ms. Clarke? And you have the audacity to pester her, claiming to be her husband?” “Mr. Cole and Ms. Clarke are the real couple! They’re having Christmas Eve dinner upstairs with his parents and relatives right now, and your deadbeat parents came to cause trouble. How unlucky!” My heart lurched. My eyes widened in disbelief. “What nonsense are you talking about? Stop it, stop it… I’m warning you, I’ve already called the police, they’ll be here any minute!” Just then, a siren wailed in the distance. The guards’ movements paused briefly. But then, Brendan’s voice echoed. “Damn it, the bastard really called the police? What are you all standing around for? Drag him inside and clean up the mess on the floor!” I struggled desperately but couldn’t break free. They forcibly gagged me and dragged me like a dead dog into the security room. Powerless, I heard the police car pull up outside the corporate tower. The officers conducted their routine inquiry. But Brendan smoothly gave them an excuse. The police, still uneasy, contacted Sophia. Over the phone, Sophia chuckled softly. “My apologies, I’ll apologize on Brendan’s behalf! He was just playing a prank! He was upset that I had to work over Christmas, so he deliberately tried to mess with me. I deeply regret his waste of police resources!” “My parents? That scoundrel, how dare he curse my parents? Don’t worry, they’re safe back home…” My heart sank into the deepest abyss. In desperation, I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, trying to smash the security room window to create a commotion. The security guard holding me down glared, his eyes menacing. “What are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” He slammed his baton on my head. The pain made me writhe on the floor. The hand gripping my phone was exposed. Another guard, his face grim, stomped on my hand. Crunch! I convulsed in pain, unable to tell if it was my fingers snapping or the phone screen shattering. Bang! Suddenly, the security room door was violently thrown open. A final flicker of hope ignited in my chest, and I quickly looked up. But I only saw Brendan’s sneering face. “You damn dog, haven’t you caused Ms. Clarke enough trouble already? I was only planning to give you a small lesson. But it seems you still haven’t realized your mistake!” “Or do you think I’m all talk?” With that, he snapped his fingers. Two elderly figures, tightly bound, covered in blood, their bodies limp like rag dolls, were roughly thrown to the ground. Seeing those two familiar forms, my mind reeled, and I trembled uncontrollably. The moment the guards released me, I lunged forward like a madman. “Mom, Dad, are you alright? Don’t scare me like this, wake up!” “Brendan, you monster! Get them to a hospital, now!” Brendan roared with laughter, seemingly enjoying my pathetic state. “I really thought you didn’t care if these old fools lived or died! So where did you get the nerve not to just kneel and beg for mercy, but to actually call the police and go against me?” I was beyond arguing with him. As I tried to shake my father-in-law’s shoulder, he remained unresponsive. Blood steadily gushed from his mouth and nose. My mother-in-law was no better, her face a bloody mess, gasping for every breath. I suddenly looked up, staring fiercely at Brendan. I wanted to demand, Why? Whether these were Sophia’s parents or my own, how could he be so cruel to two innocent elderly people? But I didn’t dare provoke his brutality further. Gritting my teeth, I bowed my head and pleaded. “Their lives are on the line, they really can’t hold on! You don’t want to be a murderer, do you?” “Brendan, you just want me to kneel and admit I’m a useless kept man, right? I’ll kneel, alright?” Brendan raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Oh, finally giving up the tough act? You wouldn’t admit your mistake earlier, you wouldn’t admit it later. Now that you’re at your wits’ end, you suddenly ‘realize’ your mistake? You haven’t realized your mistake, you’re just scared!” I was desperate. “What do you want, then? What will it take for you to let them go?” Brendan snapped his fingers again. The guards behind him rushed forward, pinning me down. Thud! My knees slammed hard against the ground. Brendan lightly patted my face, full of humiliation. “If you truly understand your mistake, you’d know what I want. Show me sufficient sincerity!”

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The day my daughter’s father sacrificed himself in the line of duty, I gleefully married the Mob boss who ordered his death. My daughter hated me for my heartlessness and cut all ties. I hated her for being a nuisance who blocked my path to riches. She sent me to the countryside for a “Ghost Marriage,” and I turned around and sold her to human traffickers. Twelve years later, she became a journalist. Her first story was to expose me, the villain, to the world. “Vivian Lane, you didn’t expect me to be alive, did you? I’m going to settle every debt—my father’s and mine—one by one!” “You aren’t my mother. You’re an animal.” “Didn’t you always want me dead? If you have the guts, show yourself!” But despite a billion netizens doxxing me for two whole days, they couldn’t find a single trace of me. I whispered in her ear, giggling. “Stupid girl, hahaha. Even if I die, I won’t let you find my body.” She didn’t know. Five years ago, someone paid a fortune to beg her to collect a few broken bone fragments from an incinerator. Those bones were mine. 1 Lily stared coldly into the camera, her eyes filled with rolling hatred. I hadn’t seen her in twelve years. She had grown from a noisy little brat into a steady young woman. Those eyes, righteous and awe-inspiring just like her father’s, looked particularly annoying. I reached out to pinch her ear, but naturally, my hand grasped nothing but air. “Vivian Lane, today I will make all the evidence public. I want to watch you lose everything you gained through illicit means.” “I will make sure you rot in prison, cursed by thousands!” The livestream, with over a hundred thousand viewers, exploded with comments. I sneered and slapped her through the air. Twelve years ago, this damn girl looked at me with that same hate when the traffickers dragged her into the van. I was so mad I slapped her several times. I didn’t expect her to still not learn her lesson. If I had known, I would have slapped her to death back then. I sat indifferently on the table, watching her pull the first piece of evidence from a chipped box beside her: my ledger. Stained with brown splotches, the paper yellowed with age, displayed calmly to the netizens. [October 2nd, 200X: Received Mark’s death pension $2,000. Got a perm, bought two hair clips. Useless trash, even his death is only worth this much.] [November 4th, 2002: Received $10,000 from Boss Huo. Sent that damn girl to entertain some VIP clients. The little bitch actually injured someone. Tsk, next time I’ll drug her so she behaves.] [November 25th, 2002: Spent $500 hiring someone to dig up a grave. Boss Huo bought a new car and wanted to take me for a spin. The damn girl hugged her dead dad’s spirit tablet and called me cheap. In a rage, I dug up his bones and threw them in a cesspit.] … The comments scrolled violently, cursing my eighteen generations of ancestors. Netizens wished they could dig me up and tear me apart right now. But neither Lily nor I reacted. She calmly flipped the ledger to the last page. There were no words on that page, just an old receipt. [September 9th, 2002: Received $3,000 from Brother Meng. Sold daughter, Lily Lane.] It was stamped with my bright red fingerprint. The barrage of comments receded like a tide, the chaotic screen suddenly becoming clean. Silence reigned for several minutes before someone spoke again. [WTF, is this something a human does?] [Even if she couldn’t afford to raise her daughter, she can’t sell her! Is this something a mother does?] [If she couldn’t afford it, she could have started a GoFundMe; plenty of people would want to help.] [Wait, Lily was only 4 years old then?] I sneered. What do they know? Lily glanced coldly at the screen and took out the next piece of evidence. An item that made my pupils constrict instantly. 2 It was a bullet casing, obviously well-preserved. It was taken from her father’s heart. Back then, I wanted to throw away such bad luck, but she held a kitchen knife to my neck and snatched it back. Lily held up the casing, her face etched with obvious hatred. “My father had over a hundred wounds on his body, but the fatal one was this bullet. I spent six hours cleaning his body just to make him look human. But the next day, Vivian Lane married the culprit who killed my father.” “I suspect they colluded long ago… to kill my dad.” The netizens’ emotions surged again. [This animal! Letting her live free for one day is a failure of society.] [I’ll pay a million dollars to whoever finds this Vivian Lane!] [I’ll pay $30,000 for her location!] [Me too!] I leaned against the screen, scoffing. Want to find me? Maybe in the next life. Daughter, I want you to live with hatred for the rest of your life. But unexpectedly, the next day, netizens doxxed my address. It was a dilapidated resettlement housing complex, mostly abandoned. Lily tilted her head slightly, exposing a scar stretching from her cheek to her neck. She cut it herself with a knife because people said she looked like me. It wasn’t originally that long. I grabbed her hair and added another cut. Lily’s best friend covered her nose, looking at the peeling stairwell with unease. “Vivian Lane, who loves wealth and despises poverty, actually lives in a place like this?” “Did her sugar daddy dump her?” The door was locked tight. Lily took an axe from her bag and smashed the door, denting it. The day I married Huo Zheng, she used an axe just like this to shred my wedding dress. But I didn’t spare her either. I used a box of matches to burn her backpack and her dad’s portrait. Another swing, and the door crashed down. Inside was a very ordinary renovation, but the moment Lily saw it, she went mad. Her pupils dilated. She opened every door like a maniac, smashing tables in a frenzy. “Who allowed you to decorate this like the home Dad and I had? Who allowed you?” “Vivian, what gives you the right? What right?!” Watching those fragments, my heart ached. Every table and bowl here was made by my own hands. That damn girl. She smashed the wedding photo on the wall with a hammer, and broke my favorite jewelry in two. “Vivian Lane, get out here!” I giggled in her ear. “Little kid, you’re still too green! I knew you’d come. I even prepared a big gift for you.” “Want to check the storage room?” As if hearing me, she rushed to the corner storage room. The next moment, she convulsed and collapsed to the floor. Her best friend rushed over, holding her. But confusingly, there was nothing strange in the storage room, just a giant plush rabbit. Lily trembled violently, staring at the rabbit as if seeing something terrifying. I sewed that rabbit myself. I leaned in to touch it. However, maybe because I had been away from the place of death for too long, my movement caused my body to fall apart. After spending half a day piecing myself back together, I approached the rabbit. Lily loved rabbits when she was little. Her thirteenth birthday wish was for a big plush rabbit. Unfortunately, on that birthday, she only received Mark’s corpse. Since then, she’s been terrified of rabbits. I touched the rabbit’s nose heartache, sitting on its shoulder, watching Lily pull out a pair of scissors from a drawer. Just as I thought she would cut my rabbit, a woman suddenly walked in from outside. Lily’s emotions instantly stabilized. “Mom.” She threw herself into the woman’s arms like a wronged little girl. However, the woman suddenly looked up, staring straight at me. “Vivian Lane.” Did she see me? 3 However, the next moment I realized I was mistaken. Susan walked towards the rabbit, gently examining the stitching. “Vivian made this.” “It should be a gift for you.” Unexpectedly, the one who understood me best in the end was my love rival. Yes, before I married Mark, she chased him for three years, but Mark chose me. I was smug back then, but thinking about it now, it feels like bad luck. Lily retched, as if hearing something disgusting. “I don’t want it. It’s dirty.” She took the scissors and stabbed the rabbit. The scissors passed through my body and tore the rabbit’s back. Large clumps of cotton flew out. She leaned into Susan’s arms, staring at the cotton with red eyes. So these years, she was adopted by Susan. That day, Susan somehow found out I was selling Lily. She drove after us, chasing for over two hundred miles, and bought Lily back. Hearing Lily call her “Mom,” I curled my lips. Damn girl, I should have sold her further away. She threw down the scissors, and they supported each other out of the messy room. For the rest of the time, I was forced to follow Lily, watching their mother-daughter act, listening to netizens’ curses, and occasionally cursing them back. Until the seventh day, someone found my grave. At first, Lily clearly didn’t believe it. But standing in front of the tombstone, she laughed until she cried. The grave was obviously a few years old. It had my photo and my name carved on it. Lily touched the tombstone. Maybe from excitement, her hand trembled slightly. “Hahaha, karma is real.” “Vivian Lane, retribution finally found you!” She laughed for a while, then started looking for an axe, clearly wanting to smash my grave to vent her anger. Unfortunately, cemeteries don’t have such things. She strode out to buy an axe. Netizens also found out the location of my grave. To vent for Lily, some threw rotten eggs, some brought red paint. Soon, the originally just old tombstone became a mess. Lily got a small excavator. She walked to my tombstone, eyes full of satisfaction mixed with a complexity I didn’t understand. “Vivian, how you treated my dad back then, I’ll treat you now.” I also smiled widely, expecting the reaction of that damn girl when she sees the urn inside is the one she personally collected years ago. I waited for her to get on the excavator and dig up this grave herself. She walked halfway, then suddenly turned back, squatting down hugging her knees, trembling violently. She stared at my tombstone for two minutes, then suddenly picked up a rag and started wiping it. I scoffed. “Damn girl.” After a while, she wiped her tears, threw down the rag, and walked firmly to the excavator. “Vivian, you deserve it. You were heartless, you wronged my dad.” “Today I’m smashing your tombstone to avenge my dad!” With the rumble of the machine starting, the yellow claw smashed towards my tombstone. Everyone’s eyes were filled with satisfaction. A woman like me, who abandoned her husband and sold her daughter, deserved such an end. But amidst the cheers, frantic footsteps ran from the distance. “Stop!” “Lily, your mom never betrayed anyone.”

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