Category: English

The late-night training room glowed cold. I entered, notebook in hand, just to tell Jackson to rest. The scene stopped me cold. Daisy, the new support, was on his lap, their hands over the keyboard. “Relax. With me here, Sierra won’t take your spot,” Jackson’s voice was honey-sweet. She kissed his cheek. “You’re the best!” My phone dug into my palm, knuckles white. A text from my brother lit the screen: “Dream over, princess? I’m waiting at home.” It stung, throwing me back to that day’s review. Our ninth straight loss. My first outburst, aimed at Daisy, the rookie support. I’d barely listed her mistakes when she teared up. Jackson stood, shielding her. “That harsh? The loss isn’t all on her.” Stunned, I asked what he meant. Handing her a tissue, he stared coldly. “Your tactics are outdated.” “When did you last play? That old championship won’t feed us now.” “Clearly, this losing streak is your fault.” Rage shook me. As my boyfriend—as a pro—he shouldn’t have crushed me publicly. Yet after, he sneaked to my office, apologizing. Alone, he turned sweet again. “She’s a rookie. Needs time. Didn’t mean to upset you.” “Forgive me?” He tried to kiss my cheek. I turned away. “No. Go train.” Now I see: his gentle words were just sick, careful lies. 1 I didn’t close my eyes all night. When I bumped into Jackson in the hallway early the next morning, I treated him like air, not sparing him a single syllable. In just a few hours, a new round of the regular season would begin. Our record was a shameful nine-game losing streak. If we lost again today, our ticket to the playoffs would be completely torn up. Worse still, just yesterday, I had signed a performance guarantee agreement with the team manager. Jackson’s words at the meeting had precisely hit the management’s weak spot. Last year, our team was on top of the world, winning championships left and right. Jackson, with his flawless on-stage performance and handsome face, skyrocketed to become the most commercially valuable star player in the entire esports league. It was no exaggeration to say that half the tickets sold for offline matches were paid for by his fans. So, after his merciless public accusation against me yesterday, the management reacted immediately, dumping all the pressure squarely onto my shoulders. “If we keep losing like this, the sponsors are going to pull their funding!” the manager had roared, slamming his hand on the desk. I didn’t hesitate for a second. I signed the agreement directly. If the team was eliminated, I would pack my bags and leave immediately, no questions asked. Ever since I was forced to retire three years ago due to severe hand injuries, I had poured my blood and soul into this team. Even if I was pushed to the edge of a cliff, I would bet all my pride on one last desperate fight. After finalizing the tactical deployment in the breakroom, I stood by the tunnel entrance, watching the players step onto that dazzling stage one by one. Jackson was the last in line. Before stepping onto the stage, he looked back and gave me an incredibly confident look, as if saying, “Leave everything to me.” But I didn’t return his look with a gentle smile, as I had done countless times before. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes, but the urgent arena announcements didn’t give him time to linger. Halfway through the match, as I stared at the real-time first-person POV on the monitor, my heart sank lower and lower. Not only did Daisy completely ignore the stable macro strategy I had repeatedly emphasized in the pre-match meeting, but she also began to frequently make amateur mistakes. Every single one of her positional errors was frantically destroying the team’s tempo, forcing her teammates into desperate situations. In the final, decisive team fight around the objective pit, she actually walked straight into the face of the enemy’s core damage dealer and died—like a complete noob who didn’t understand the game at all—completely destroying our only sliver of hope for a comeback. She did it on purpose. She was using a professional match to throw the game as revenge for my criticism yesterday. My fingertips trembled uncontrollably. Watching the players trudge back into the breakroom, the entire room descended into a deathly silence. “Oops, sorry Sierra, my hands were a bit cold that game,” Daisy even playfully stuck her tongue out. Before I could explode, Jackson had already spoken up. “It’s fine, you did your best. I think your initiation idea in that last fight was actually pretty good.” I lifted my eyelids coldly, my gaze scraping across his face like a knife. “You can’t see the problems with her mechanics?” “She was blatantly feeding the entire match! Did you all just treat this morning’s tactical briefing as background noise?” I ignored them and turned directly to the substitute player sitting in the corner, trembling with nerves. “You’re starting the next game. Daisy, you are permanently glued to the bench.” Jackson’s brows shot up, his face full of hostility. “On what grounds? I already said Daisy’s playstyle is completely fine. Do you think I can’t carry this team?” “Benching her like this is completely unfair to her.” I found it utterly absurd and couldn’t help but laugh coldly. “She treats a professional match like playing house, and you’re talking to me about unfairness? Do either of you have even the slightest shred of esports integrity left in your brains?” “Shut up. This is the final decision of the coaching staff.” Seeing my uncompromising, iron-clad stance, Daisy immediately panicked, tears falling thick and fast. “I know I was wrong, Sierra! Please give me one more chance! Next game, I swear I’ll follow your shotcalling to the letter!” Jackson’s heart broke for her. He quickly pulled her into his arms to comfort her. “Why are you crying? Didn’t I promise you on stage just now that you’d play the whole series?” He looked up, and those eyes—which had once spoken countless vows to me—were now filled with cold hostility. “You insist on going against me today, is that it?” “Sierra, have you still not faced reality? You’re long past being that legendary prodigy mid-laner. Waving the coaching staff’s authority around like a weapon, do you really think you represent everyone?” I stared at him, feeling that the person in front of me was terrifyingly unfamiliar. We had walked together from eating instant noodles in the dampest, coldest basement to standing under the spotlight. I couldn’t fathom how such cruel words could come out of his mouth. Seeing me stay silent, Jackson redirected his fire toward the team’s head coach, Greg, who had been playing deaf and dumb on the sidelines. “Greg, you’re the official head coach of this team. You tell me, did Daisy’s performance really warrant being benched?” Greg was nothing but a figurehead collecting a paycheck; the real tactical core and training responsibilities of the team had always been on my shoulders. But now, his cloudy eyes darted between me and Jackson a couple of times before he broke into a sycophantic smile. “I think Jackson makes a very good point. Daisy, you keep playing. Adjust your mindset, and don’t let us down!” A bucket of ice water poured straight over my head. As Daisy walked past me toward the tunnel, she deliberately lowered her voice and flashed me an incredibly malicious, provocative smile. “I fed on purpose. Too bad, isn’t it? Jackson is just willing to protect me. Lose two more games, and you can pack your bags and get the hell out!” No one cared about my statue-like, rigid posture. My nails had long since dug deep into the soft flesh of my palms, drawing blood. The phone in my pocket vibrated frantically. My brother had called several times, but I hadn’t answered a single one. 2 There were no miracles in this match. We were swept by our opponents, returning in devastating defeat. As soon as we returned to the training room, Jackson violently slammed his gear bag onto the desk, pointing at my nose and cursing, “What’s the use of you staying up all night writing those trash analysis reports?! We’d be better off just playing however we want!” “With your garbage game understanding, it’s no wonder your hands are ruined and you had to retire!” Those words were like a massive sledgehammer, smashing precisely into my spine. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. Seeing the tears in my eyes, his expression stiffened, a flash of remorse crossing his face. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.” I turned my head away, forcefully wiping the moisture from the corners of my eyes, my voice unimaginably hoarse. “You think I’m a useless piece of trash, don’t you?” Jackson was instantly silenced, biting his lip hard and saying nothing. Back when this team couldn’t even afford a decent computer, it was me who let him sit safely in the base to train. I was the one who wore high heels, running from company to company, talking until my throat bled and drinking until my stomach gave out just to secure our first sponsorship. When the championship honors that once belonged to me were wantonly mocked and trampled by others, I could casually pick them up, dust them off, and keep walking forward. In the past, whenever I came back to the base dead drunk from trying to secure sponsorships, it was Jackson who took care of me without a single word of complaint. He would carefully wipe my face with a warm towel, then hold me tightly with red-rimmed eyes. “Baby, just wait for me a little longer, okay?” “Once I lift that championship trophy, I want to see who in this scene still dares to look down on you!” Now, the display cabinet was so full of championship trophies that the light could barely pass through. But Jackson and I seemed to be separated by an uncrossable abyss; we could never go back to that cramped but warm basement. The humiliating ten-game losing streak completely detonated the internet. Major forums and social media platforms were flooded with angry curses and questions from fans. “What the hell is that new support doing? I could play better with my feet!” “Is the coaching staff’s brain filled with sewer water? Tell Sierra to get out here and apologize!” “Jackson, do you even care about the money we spent on tickets?!” Team management immediately issued a gag order, strictly forbidding all starting players from checking online comments to prevent it from affecting their mindset for the upcoming relegation matches. Having struggled in the esports scene for so many years, I had long since developed an impenetrable heart. Back then, I had walked up to the altar to lift the trophy amidst a sky full of boos and insults. I scrolled through my phone screen expressionlessly, scanning the vicious remarks. However, my finger suddenly stopped. I saw a reply from Jackson’s verified account, which had millions of followers, under a top comment. “Daisy is still a rookie. I hope everyone can give her a little time and tolerance to grow.” “I’ve already won five championships. From my perspective, there are no problems with Daisy’s mechanics. She is just strictly executing the tactics assigned to her by the coaching staff.” The direction of public opinion instantly underwent a terrifying reversal. The spears originally aimed at Daisy all simultaneously changed direction, pointing entirely at me—the behind-the-scenes staff member who formulated the tactics. “Even our five-time champion says so! It looks like the players are really being dragged down by disgusting tactics! The person who let us down is Sierra!” “Did Sierra buy illegal bets and take a bribe? These tactics are literally just feeding the enemy!” “I actually cried sincerely for her when she retired due to her hand injury back then. Looking at it now, she doesn’t deserve to touch this game at all! Kick this cancer out of the team!” The screen scrolled wildly with nothing but personal attacks against me. The language grew increasingly obscene, and some even started spreading rumors that the only way I got into the coaching staff was by spreading my legs for management. And amidst this foul atmosphere, the few posts that lacked aggression were actually shipping Jackson and Daisy. “Dominant Jungler x Wronged Rookie Support. The whole team is targeting the support girl, and only the captain is bearing all the pressure to protect her! Omg, what kind of god-tier plot is this, I’m going crazy shipping them!” “So when is that old witch Sierra going to get lost? I just want to see our Daisy get carried onto the podium by Jackson and lift the championship trophy together!” This malicious comment was actually liked by Jackson’s personal account. This action was like pouring a ladle of water into a boiling vat of oil; the fans instantly went into a frenzy. I looked up at Jackson, who was sitting on the sofa. He was still looking down, casually scrolling through his phone screen. But from beginning to end, he hadn’t typed a single word on his keyboard to defend me. Because of the tsunami of public opinion he had single-handedly caused, management didn’t hesitate to push me out as the scapegoat. That afternoon, the club’s official account published a red-headed document announcement, declaring that due to severe problems with my work attitude, I was immediately suspended for a month of reflection. They even forced me to record a deeply humiliating apology video. The entire fandom popped champagne to celebrate, as if clearing out a “cancer” like me would guarantee them a sweeping victory in the next match. But I knew better than anyone else that, given their current state, they couldn’t possibly win. When I packed my things and walked out of the meeting room, exhausted, Jackson was leaning against the doorframe waiting for me. “If you hadn’t been plotting behind my back to sell me off, I would have stood up and spoken for you today.” I looked up in shock, only to receive a remarkably mocking, cold sneer in return. “Even now, are you still planning to play dumb? This time last year, I had just fought to win that season’s grand championship for you. I had even bought a celebration gift and happily walked up to the meeting room door. And what happened? What did I hear?” 3 “I heard with my own ears that you guys were discussing taking advantage of the fact that my brand is at its most valuable right now to quickly list me and sell me to another club for cash! Because in your heart, you simply don’t believe in my future career longevity!” “I did not!” I desperately wanted to explain, reaching out to grab his arm, only for him to swat my hand away violently in disgust. A sharp slap echoed in the hallway, and four bright red finger marks instantly bloomed on the back of my hand. Because the spot he struck was exactly where I had undergone surgery years ago, a piercing pain instantly surged through me. I couldn’t help but gasp, curling my fingers in agony. “I’ll get the team doctor!” Jackson clearly hadn’t expected to hit me so hard, a flash of panic crossing his face. I endured the pain and stopped him, staring dead into his eyes and shaking my head. “I have never, in any meeting, proposed selling you. Jackson, why refuse to believe me?” Jackson violently shook off my hand, pulling a harsh, tragic smile that was uglier than crying. “That year, my grandmother was diagnosed with a severe illness and was burning through money every day in the ICU. I was desperately taking on those disgusting commercial endorsements like a dog while staying up late to maintain high-intensity training. I fought like hell to win, just because I was terrified of disappointing you.” “Sierra, my greatest wish in this life was to become the foundation of your pride, to be your strongest backing. But as I stood outside that door, I realized that in your heart, I was nothing more than a commodity waiting to be priced and sold.” I opened my mouth, wanting to carve open the truth of that year piece by piece to show him, but he no longer wanted to listen. Watching his resolute back as he turned away, I suddenly heard a distinct shattering sound in my chest. It was as if a glass castle I had painstakingly supported for years had finally, completely collapsed at this moment. I slumped weakly against the cold wall, sliding down to the floor. With a voice only I could hear, I softly called his name. “Jackson, I’m leaving.” His footsteps paused for a mere half-second; he clearly thought I was just playing hard to get. “Let’s break up.” I had once naively believed that even if my hands were ruined and I could never touch that familiar keyboard again, at least I could stand in the shadows of the stage, using my brain to continue shining for this team. We won the championship last year, and I thought that glory could continue forever. But now I realized how ridiculously wrong I was. Perhaps, just as my parents had said when they tried to stop me back then, I simply didn’t have the ability to control the situation. The scheming and infighting of these past few days had left me feeling unprecedentedly exhausted. It was a bone-deep weariness that even made me start to miss the home I had sworn I would rather die than step foot in again. Jackson whipped his head around, staring fixedly at me for a long time, before finally letting out an incredibly stiff, almost teeth-grittingly cold laugh. “Fine! Break up then! You think I care? There are plenty of younger, more sensible women lining up for me in this world!” “Sierra, you will absolutely regret your decision today. Don’t blame me for not warning you.” I looked at him without saying a word, only feeling a violent soreness rising from deep within my eye sockets. Even though I had been officially suspended, a few days later, Coach Greg still swallowed his pride and called me, practically begging on his hands and knees for me to return to the training room. “Those little brats are completely unmanageable! Without you there, we can’t even schedule normal scrims. You need to come back and lay down the law!” I pushed open the door to the training room and scanned the area. Daisy’s seat had been deliberately moved to be as close to Jackson as possible, their gaming chairs practically touching. Sensing my gaze, Daisy didn’t show an ounce of guilt. Instead, she slipped her hand directly into Jackson’s palm and, like a victor, proudly raised their tightly clasped hands to flaunt them at me. On their wrists glinted a pair of matching couples’ bracelets. It was a style Jackson and I had eyed while shopping a few months ago. At the time, because the price was too exorbitant, we couldn’t bear to buy them in order to save the team’s budget. I didn’t expect him to turn around and buy them for Daisy. I had originally been saving up money, planning to give him a surprise for his birthday this year. Looking at it now, I could save that money. “Long time no see, Sierra. How was your reflection at home these past few days?” Daisy’s sickly-sweet voice couldn’t hide its underlying malice. Jackson leaned back in his gaming chair, mocking me from the side. “Don’t waste your breath. Someone as self-righteous as her could never recognize her own mistakes.” I completely tuned out their words, pulled out my chair, and sat down, my voice hard and cold. “Didn’t you say we were playing a scrim? Cut the crap and open the lobby.” The first-string starting lineup and the second-string composed of substitutes began alternating practice games. Jackson forcefully demanded to be paired with Daisy. I didn’t even bat an eyelid and let him do whatever he wanted. However, upon entering the game, Daisy’s disastrous performance repeated itself. Her positioning was fragmented, she wasted her skills, and the slight advantages Jackson fought tooth and nail to secure in the early game were all thrown away by her repeatedly stupid feeding. In the final, crucial team fight, she even used her skills to push a low-health enemy assassin directly onto the face of our fragile marksman. Driven by the professional instinct of a tactical analyst, I hit the pause button and started flaming her without mercy. “If you really lack the talent for esports, then retire early and do something else. With your mechanics—which are so rotten they’re festering—even if you went back to being a borderline cam girl, your viewers would find your gameplay offensive to the eyes. It was Greg who practically risked his life to recommend you to me, and combined with the fact that our former championship support chose to leave due to age and declining form, I made an exception and gave you this tryout opportunity.” “Now open your eyes wide and look at the replay. Does your gameplay do justice to your teammates who stay up late every night reviewing VODs with you?!” Daisy’s eyes turned red, and tears smashed onto the keyboard like broken beads. Jackson immediately took off his headset in heartache and pulled her into his arms. “She’s just having an off day! At worst, we just don’t play this game, okay? Why do you always have to target her alone!” My temples throbbed with anger. In this team, I treated every player with absolute fairness. Even Jackson, who was incredibly talented back then, had been scolded by me so badly after a match loss that he couldn’t lift his head to eat for a whole day. That was when he was at his purest. In the middle of the night, he would sneak over to knock on my door, his eyes red-rimmed as he apologized to me: “Coach, let me load up the practice tool and show you again. I swear I will never make the same mistakes I made today twice.” But now, this Jackson, whose eyes were filled only with a woman, roared at me. “Stop being an armchair general here! Since you think you know best, if you’re so good, you play!” I slowly lowered my eyes, my gaze falling on the hand that bore a hideous scar from surgery. I let out a soft laugh. “Alright.” “I’ll play.” 4 When my hand once again rested on that cold keyboard, for a fleeting moment, I felt as if I had traveled back in time to the golden age three years ago. The blinding spotlight pierced through the darkness of the arena like a sharp sword, shining straight onto my arm holding the trophy high. In that moment, the sky full of golden rain froze us into an eternal legend. Not having touched the game in years, the DPI of the mouse and the tactile feedback of the keys felt a bit unfamiliar. After entering the game, Jackson and Daisy, like rabid dogs, utilized their long-standing synergy to relentlessly target me in the mid-lane, killing me over and over again. They were taking revenge on me. I took a deep breath, my fingertips turning slightly white, my ears filled with Daisy’s unrestrained mockery. “Oh my, did we make Sierra cry? What ‘ancient era’ championship veteran? I think it’s purely because the region’s skill level was so low back then, and she got lucky and picked up a championship. It’s so watered down!” “With gameplay that gets slaughtered like a pig, what right do you have to sit in the coach’s seat and lecture us? What a useless old auntie.” Jackson shot me a contemptuous glance and threw down a casual remark: “Enough, just hit surrender. Don’t waste everyone’s time, it’s pretty boring.” “No need.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The outside noise and the faint ache in my wrist were completely shut out at this moment. The few substitute players sitting next to me seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere as well. They dropped their spectator expressions and sat up straight. Under my precise shotcalling, they no longer fought isolated battles but acted like a seamless killing machine, slowly encroaching on the enemy’s vision, steadily clawing back a massive gold deficit bit by bit. The final team fight that would decide the game broke out. Like a venomous snake lurking in the deep sea, I locked onto the fatal flaw Daisy exposed out of panic. Jackson was pinned down by our frontline, completely unable to peel. My fingers became a blur on the keyboard, successively bursting down the enemy’s two core damage dealers. As the enemy base crystal shattered into brilliant fragments on the screen, I led the second-string team they looked down upon to secure this impossible victory. Jackson’s eyes were nailed to the gray screen, unable to recover for a long time. As for the previously arrogant Daisy, she was now like a duck grabbed by the neck, her face pale, unable to utter half a word. I took off my headset, slowly stood up, and looked down at them condescendingly. “Three years ago, the ace position Jackson is sitting in right now was mine.” “That championship trophy you guys use to show off was also won by my own hands.” I casually tossed my staff ID badge onto the desk, my tone as calm as if I were discussing today’s weather: “The first string’s performance today was a literal pile of dog shit, and it makes me feel incredibly nauseous.” “Today, all training volume for the first string is doubled. No one sleeps until it’s finished!” That night, I directly knocked on the club owner’s office door, voluntarily submitted my resignation letter, and prematurely terminated the performance guarantee agreement that had almost cost me half my life. The pot-bellied owner puffed on a cigar and put on a fake sigh. “Sierra, the board has seen the blood and sweat you’ve poured into the team over these years. But you have to understand our difficulties. In this circle, a star player who can sell sky-high merch and tickets is far more valuable than an excellent behind-the-scenes coach.” Jackson could earn them tens of millions in profit, while I, a washed-up analyst with crippled hands, could not. Reality was just that cold and simple. I forced a smile and said nothing. I still remember back then, Jackson knocked on my door clutching a crumpled train ticket and a heart full of passion, his eyes shining with starlight, solemnly swearing to build a new esports dynasty with me. I promised him everything, and I fought like hell to deliver. But the original promises about dreams he made to me had long been thrown into the sewer like garbage. Jackson had changed, completely changed. In him, I could no longer find the stubborn boy who, in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone, still clung tightly to my legs, begging me with red eyes to give him a chance to try out. Returning to my dorm, I silently stuffed my clothes into my suitcase and booked an early morning flight for the next day. Right then, Daisy sent a message saying she wanted to talk to me alone before I left. I packed my last jacket and pushed the door open to walk out. In the dim light of the fire escape stairwell at the base, she stood with her head down, looking pitiful as she apologized to me. “Sierra, actually, I was just too jealous of how devoted Jackson was to you, so I deliberately messed around in the game to force you to leave quickly. But now that you’re really leaving, I actually feel pretty bad about it in my heart.” I quietly watched her clumsy acting, my tone completely flat. “How you walk your path in the future is your own business. Focus your mind on your mechanics, and don’t treat the fans who support you like idiots.” She kept her head down and didn’t reply. I felt it was somewhat inexplicable, and was just about to turn and leave this damp, cold place. The moment I turned around, a highly malicious and violent shove suddenly came from behind! I didn’t have time to react at all. I lost my center of gravity entirely and fell straight down the steep stairs like a broken ragdoll. My elbows and knees smashed heavily against the hard concrete steps, and a bone-shattering agony instantly swept through my whole body. Just as I was seeing stars, the corner of my eye caught Jackson rushing out from the corridor corner, looking panicked. He sprinted over, but he didn’t even cast a single glance at me lying in a pool of blood. Instead, he bypassed me entirely and anxiously lunged toward Daisy, who was standing at the top of the stairs. “Daisy! You sprained your wrist?! Oh my god, tomorrow is the relegation match that decides our fate! If you get a chronic injury, your entire career will be ruined!” I lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor, staring blankly as Jackson carefully scooped up the completely unharmed Daisy into his arms and sprinted frantically toward the infirmary. I don’t know how long I lay on the floor before I finally gritted my teeth, fought through the piercing pain, and used my trembling arms to prop myself against the wall, pulling myself up from the ground little by little. When I limped and clumsily hopped up to the stair landing like a comical clown, I saw Jackson returning, standing with a dark expression in front of my door. His gaze finally landed on my continuously bleeding lower leg. He looked at me coldly and asked, “Are you regretting it now?” I looked straight into his eyes, which held not a trace of warmth, and answered, enunciating every word. “I haven’t done anything wrong, so I absolutely do not regret it.” I pushed the door open, shutting the boy whose eyes used to be filled only with me out. I turned around, biting my lip hard, pretending that the tears in my eyes had never broken the dam. At the break of dawn, the plane pierced through the thick clouds and landed smoothly. My brother, Arthur, had canceled an extremely important transnational meeting to personally drive his flashy Maybach to pick me up at the airport. When he clearly saw the shocking patch of gauze on my leg, a look of absolute fury appeared on his usually cynical face. “Who did this? I’ll break his legs!” “I accidentally tripped and fell.” He gave me a deep look, sighed heavily, and his large palm reassuringly rubbed the top of my head. “You’ve suffered a lot out there.” “I’ve already had someone investigate that mess on the internet. Don’t worry, your brother will vent this anger for you.” Seeing my surprised look, the corners of Arthur’s mouth curled into a dangerous arc. “I just casually bought out that garbage club of yours entirely. Is our princess satisfied with this little welcome-home gift?” “That ungrateful bastard named Jackson or whatever, I’ll have him listed and sold off like trash tomorrow, what do you think?”

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In the heat of our intimacy, Mary felt entirely different from my memories. The overwhelming intensity of it made me lose control, a muffled groan escaping my lips. Right at that moment, Mary let out a sudden, chilling laugh. It made my stomach drop. She tapped her manicured fingernails against the mattress beneath us, her tone dripping with dark amusement. “How does it feel? I just finished taking care of your stepbrother. He said he really loves how I am right now.” “He was in this exact bed yesterday.” She paused, making no effort to hide the absolute contempt in her eyes. “He moaned so beautifully. I figured it would have the same effect on you.” I froze instantly. The blood in my veins turned to ice. My mind went entirely blank, stripping away my ability to form a single rational thought. Seeing my paralyzed state, Mary rolled her eyes, looking bored. she pushed herself off the bed. “William, Bruno has such a gorgeous body. Not a single blemish.” She looked me up and down, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. “You two brothers are worlds apart. Looking at you covered in those hideous burns… it makes me sick to my stomach.” “Just now, I had to keep my eyes squeezed shut. I had to pretend you were him just to force myself to finish.” 1 I opened my mouth, but my vocal cords refused to work. I still remembered every agonizing detail of the fire five years ago. The Sinclair family estate had caught fire in the dead of night. Mary was trapped on the third floor. I charged into the inferno, desperate to find her. When a burning ceiling beam collapsed, I shoved her out of the way, taking the full brunt of the collapse myself. Sixty percent of my body was burned. I lay in the ICU for three months, enduring seventeen grueling skin graft surgeries. They managed to drag me back from the brink of death, but they couldn’t take away the monstrous scars. They crawled over my flesh like ugly, thick centipedes, creeping from my chest down to my waist, wrapping around my arms and thighs. The trauma plunged me into severe depression. Countless times, I stood by the window, ready to jump and end it all. And every single time, it was Mary who pulled me back from the ledge. She would hold me, her eyes red with tears, swearing to the heavens that she would never betray me. “William, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” My voice came out as a broken rasp as I clenched my fists. “Mary… you promised me. You swore you would cherish me forever.” Mary lazily tossed a silk robe in my direction. “William, you wouldn’t even buy secondhand clothes. What gives you the right to demand that I cherish someone whose body is a ruined, charred mess?” My knuckles turned white. “Then why the hell did you propose to me in the first place!” I roared. She slipped into her custom tailored blazer, a flash of irritation crossing her features. “Back then, I honestly thought I could handle it. But every time we get physical, seeing those scars just grosses me out.” “You are just too ugly now, William. I can’t stomach it anymore.” My jaw locked. My chest heaved with ragged breaths. Mary habitually held out a handkerchief for me, but I jerked my head away, refusing it. “But I do love you, William. I will always be grateful to you,” she said, smoothing her lapels. “I just needed to blow off some steam. Give me some time to get used to it.” I smacked her hand away violently. “No. That is twisted. Mary, I sacrificed myself to save your life… and you stabbed me in the back!” Her phone screen lit up on the nightstand. I caught a glimpse of Bruno’s text message. “I put on those wolf ears you like. Are you seriously not coming over?” Mary buttoned her jacket and casually waved the phone in my direction. “If I keep him waiting, he is going to throw a tantrum.” I vaulted off the bed, my eyes burning with rage, and slapped her hard across the face. “You are disgusting. This is sick. We are getting a divorce!” Mary touched her stinging cheek, the temperature in the room plummeting as her expression turned lethal. “I am disgusting? William, I did not call you disgusting when you were nothing but rotting, burnt meat.” “And a divorce? Look at yourself. Who else would ever be desperate enough to marry a freak like you?” The bedroom door slammed shut. Inside my chest, something vital shattered completely. Through the haze of my own devastation, memories bled into my mind. I remembered my mother cheating, bringing some random guy into our home, which pushed my father to suicide. After that, I was trapped, endlessly bullied by my new stepdad and his golden boy, Bruno. It was Mary who pulled me out of that hellhole. She helped me reclaim my dad’s belongings. She stood like a shield between me and the cruel world. She gave me the fierce, unconditional love that my father had meant to give me. A house, cars, custom watches, even cooking my favorite meals. She told me she was nothing like my mother. She swore she would only ever look at me. Right up until I turned twenty-four, when she planned a beautiful beachside proposal. I was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. But on my way to meet her, the Sinclair estate went up in flames. I ran in to save her and got crushed beneath the burning wood. When the fire crews finally dug me out of the ashes, the only things left to keep me company were the burns and the scars. Mary had dropped to her knees in the soot, her tears splashing onto my ruined face. “William, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” The nightmare ended there. I was jolted awake by a phone call. It was Bruno. “Bro, Mary and I are going at it right now. Wanna listen? It is the prize I won.” 2 The obscene, wet sounds echoing through the speaker felt like icepicks in my eardrums. Mary’s breathless, erratic voice drifted through the line. “I made a bet with Bruno. We wanted to see what you would do when you found out about us.” “I bet you would swallow your pride and take it. He bet you would ask for a divorce.” “I won, so he had to wear the outfit I like. But he also won… because now you know.” “Sorry about that. I guess I just did not expect you to actually bring up the D-word.” My grip on the phone tightened until the plastic creaked. I hung up. But the notifications didn’t stop. They kept pinging, one after another. A relentless stream of highly explicit photos flooded my screen. “During those two years when your depression was at its worst, when you wanted to die every day?” Bruno texted. “She was sleeping with me the whole time she was playing nurse with you.” “She said the only way she could forget your grotesque scars was by letting me wreck her.” Word by word, the messages butchered my heart. I yanked open the nightstand drawer with trembling hands. I didn’t care if they were my antidepressants or sleeping pills. I grabbed handfuls of them and shoved them into my mouth. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me. They had pumped my stomach. The door pushed open. Mary walked in. I stared at her, totally hollowed out. “Mary, I want a divorce.” She pulled out a slim cigarette, lighting it with utter indifference. “Request denied. I admit I took it too far last night, and I am sorry.” “But you love me so much. Surely… you can understand the pressure I am under?” I stared at her through the haze of medication, and suddenly, the ugly truth clicked into place. She wasn’t looking for an escape. She genuinely believed that staying with me was a grand, tragic sacrifice on her part. She felt wronged by my ugliness, so she decided she had the right to punish me for it. Even though I looked like this because I saved her life. Mary walked out. She stopped visiting. She ignored my texts. Instead, Bruno started messaging me. “Hey bro, Mary let me move into your house while you’re stuck in the hospital.” “We broke your bed. She said she’s never had it this good in this house.” “Oh, by the way, do your gross scars flare up around pets? Mary bought me a puppy…” That final text detonated whatever sanity I had left. I took the explicit photos and chat logs and leaked them to the press. I even dragged myself to the offices of Mary’s top clients, desperately trying to force her hand to sign the divorce papers. But the real world gave me a brutal reality check. The Sinclair family was a titan in the corporate world. No media outlet dared to run the story. Her clients, eager to kiss her feet, immediately pulled their funding from the research lab where I worked. They blacklisted me. My lab director cornered me, demanding I apologize to Mary immediately, or I would be fired and blacklisted from the scientific community forever. My colleagues begged me with tears in their eyes. If I didn’t grovel, the lab would shut down, and they would all lose their livelihoods. I became a walking punchline. Mary was the one who cheated, but I was the one forced to swallow glass and apologize. I dragged my broken body back to the Sinclair mansion. The words “I’m sorry” barely left my lips before Mary shot me a look of freezing disdain. “William, did you really think you could throw a tantrum and force a divorce?” “Divorce hurts my feelings. Don’t throw that word around.” Maybe it was to teach me a lesson. Or maybe she resented how deeply she had once cared for me. But she took the very first gift she ever gave me, and she handed it to Bruno. It was an ancient, black obsidian binding stone. Once Bruno fully infiltrated my life, I lost everything. My father’s life, my mother’s love, my bedroom, my clothes, my career prospects. Bruno stole it all. Years ago, right after I was kicked out of my house, delirious with a fever, I had rested my head on Mary’s shoulder and asked her in a broken whisper: “Why can’t I ever keep the things that belong to me?” Mary had climbed three thousand stone steps at a highland monastery, scraping her knees bloody, just to get that obsidian stone for me. She had told me: “I got this to bind my soul to yours. Even if you lose everything else in the world, I will always belong to you.” I had clenched my jaw back then, fighting back tears, stupidly believing she was mine forever. Now, she had violently ripped her heart in two, feeding half of it to Bruno. And that obsidian stone was currently hanging around Bruno’s neck. 3 “It is just a cheap trinket. What is the big deal if I give it to him?” “After all these years… haven’t I given you enough?” She was doing it on purpose. She knew exactly where to insert the knife to make it hurt the most. No amount of medication could numb the agony ripping through my brain. If I just disappeared, everything would be fine. My hands moved on their own, dragging a blade across my wrist. Five years ago, right after the accident, I used to do this. But back then, for every cut I made on my arm, Mary would take a knife and match it on her own skin. “William, if you don’t want to live in this world, then I am leaving it with you.” She had physically dragged me out of that suicidal pit. But this time, as I lay bleeding out onto the bathroom tiles, she never showed up. A housekeeper found me, screaming in terror as she called Mary. Mary didn’t bother coming home until the sun was up. She crouched beside me, letting out an annoyed sigh as she looked at my heavily bandaged arm. “You didn’t die when you were roasted alive, and you haven’t managed to die after all these pathetic attempts. If you were really going to die, you would be dead by now.” “If you keep throwing these childish tantrums, I am going to have you locked in a psych ward.” With one sentence, the fragile peace I had scraped together shattered again. As soon as she left, I picked up a fresh blade, pressing it right against my carotid artery. But as I raised my hand, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I couldn’t find a single trace of the boy I used to be. The old William was a prodigy, headhunted by a world-renowned lab in his early twenties. He was brilliant, ambitious, and unstoppable. Look at me now. I was gaunt. Hollowed out. A dead, rotting tree. The burn scars practically glowed a sickly, angry pink under the bathroom lights. The uneven, raised tissue looked like a hundred little mouths laughing at me. Hideous. I was a monster. I dropped the blade, my jaw trembling, my throat tight. That wasn’t me in the mirror. It couldn’t be. I wanted to get better. I really did. I forced myself to cooperate with my doctors. I swallowed my pills. I even contacted a lawyer to quietly draft divorce papers. For a little while, my mood genuinely stabilized. The suicidal urges faded to a dull hum. Until Bruno’s birthday rolled around. Mary insisted on taking me out to “clear my head.” “Your depression is acting up because you rot in that room all day. You need fresh air.” But when we arrived, I realized Mary had rented out an entire seaside amusement park just for Bruno. Exactly like she had done for me when she proposed. She brought me here purely to rub my face in it. And her birthday gift to Bruno was a very familiar ring. I didn’t even realize she had taken my custom blue diamond engagement ring off my dresser. My stomach cramped so violently I doubled over in physical pain. When Mary proposed to me, it was during the darkest year of my depression. I used to push her away, telling her with dead eyes that I was a freak and she should leave me. She had flown across the globe. She spent a fortune tracking down the purest blue diamond in existence, and she dropped to one knee right in front of me. “No matter what you look like, to me, you are just like this diamond. Flawless.” Now, she had taken that diamond and resized the band to fit Bruno’s finger. Right in front of my eyes, she slid the ring onto his hand. “A diamond this pure belongs on the finger of the most pristine person I know.” The mental dam I had built over the last few weeks violently collapsed. A strange, whispering voice slithered into my ear. “You are so filthy. You don’t deserve to breathe.” “Go find that blade. Put it against your throat. Do it.” My hands started shaking uncontrollably. After putting the ring on Bruno, Mary walked over and grabbed my arm. “Does it hurt? Is it eating you alive?” she whispered dangerously. “Because every time I look at what that fire did to you, every time I see the monster you became, it eats me alive.” So this was her twisted logic. She had to lavish someone else with love, just to watch me suffer the exact same pain she felt. But I couldn’t hear her anymore. All I wanted was to find a knife. Just one quick thrust, and all this noise would stop. Right as the panic attack peaked, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was my lawyer. “Mr. Bennett, the divorce agreement is finalized.” “I wish you the best of luck. Here is to your new life.” 4 Divorce. New life. Those words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I violently yanked my arm out of Mary’s grip. I ignored her shouting my name as I bolted. I ran so fast my shoe flew off, but I didn’t stop. I drove through the night to pick up the printed papers, and I slammed them onto the table right in front of Mary. “We are getting a divorce. You can keep the assets.” Staring at the legal document, Mary finally realized this wasn’t a bluff. Her eyes locked onto mine, dark and searching. “You seriously want a divorce?” I nodded, my posture rigid. Surprisingly, she didn’t tear the papers up. She looked down and let out a soft, mocking chuckle. “Fine. We can divorce. But you will come crawling back.” “Because you have absolutely no one else in this world… but me.” I acted like I didn’t hear her. I packed my bags at lightning speed and walked out of that mansion. I thought the nightmare was finally over. Until a few days later, walking home from a job interview. My phone blew up with a trending notification. #WilliamBennettScars A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. With trembling fingers, I clicked the hashtag. It was a flood of photos and videos from the immediate aftermath of the fire. Photos of me lying in the sterile hospital bed, my skin charred black, my body covered in raw, bloody skin grafts. It was grotesque. When I arrived at the research lab to clear out my desk, the entrance was swarming with reporters. They used to interview me about my breakthroughs in biochemistry. Now, they shoved microphones into my face, their eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity. “Dr. Bennett, are the rumors about your severe burns true?” “We heard you have sixty percent burn coverage. Are the scars as terrifying as people say?” “Your wife allegedly cheated on you because she was repulsed by your body. Care to comment?” I felt like someone was strangling me. Black spots danced in my vision. Security had to physically drag me inside. My phone vibrated violently. I was the victim of that fire, yet the top comments online were pure venom. “You can’t even tell from his face! He dresses so sharp. Bet he set the fire himself for insurance money and failed.” “A grown man covered in scars like a horror movie monster? No wonder his wife cheated. Gross!” “He always acts so arrogant in his interviews. Doesn’t act like a trauma victim to me.” “Nine out of ten burn victims did it to themselves by being stupid, and then they blame their wives for leaving them. Pathetic!” My mother, who hadn’t spoken to me in years, called me just to verbally sever our ties. “William, you are an absolute embarrassment. Don’t you ever tell anyone you are my son!” The final email was from the lab’s board of directors. “Dr. Bennett, the current media circus surrounding your personal life is damaging the lab’s reputation. Your employment is terminated immediately.” My nails dug into my palms until they bled. The endless stream of hatred dragged me right back into the inferno. I could feel the crushing weight of the burning beams on my chest again. The blistering heat. The absolute agony. I hid in the lab until nightfall, waiting for the vultures to leave. But when I finally hailed a cab, the driver took one look at my face and the name on his app, and stopped the car. “Wait… are you that burnt freak from the news?” “Get the hell out! Don’t infect my car with your ugly ass!” He shoved me out onto the pavement and threw his half-empty glass bottle at me. It struck my forehead, shattering. I collapsed onto the concrete, warm blood trailing down the side of my face. I don’t even remember how I ended up back at Mary’s mansion. She was sitting on the living room sofa, swirling a glass of wine, as if she had been waiting for me. I stared at her, my eyes dead. “You did this?” Mary smiled. “William, look at reality. I told you, I am the only person who can tolerate you.” “If we actually divorce, the rest of the world will eat you alive.” A wave of pure, suffocating despair crashed over me. I opened my mouth, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. From the upstairs bathroom, Bruno’s voice echoed loudly. “I’m all clean! You can do whatever you want to me tonight.” He leaned over the balcony railing, a towel draped loosely around his waist, his chest covered in fresh hickeys. I grabbed the wall, hunching over as my stomach violently rejected everything in it, dry-heaving until my ribs cracked. Mary watched me vomit, her fists clenching momentarily before she forced a cruel laugh. “After the amusement park, I was actually going to call it even. But now… I think you need another reminder of your place.” She stood up, walking upstairs and wrapping her arms possessively around Bruno’s waist. The sprawling, empty mansion amplified the sounds of wet kissing and heavy moans. “You’re being so loud. Do you want your brother to hear us? You’re so bad…” Bruno teased. “Let him hear. It is not his first time.” The grotesque sounds clawed their way into my brain. I clamped my hands over my ears, pressing until it hurt. But the room started to spin. The voices melted together into a demonic choir. “You are so filthy…” “Nobody will ever want you…” Nobody. I couldn’t save myself. Through the blur of my tears, I saw my father. He had been dead for over a decade, but he was standing there, waving at me. “William, come here… Daddy loves you. Daddy will protect you…” I reached out to take his hand. I followed him, walking like a ghost. He led me all the way up to the third-floor balcony, right to the edge. “Come to me, William. There is no more pain here…” I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself forward into his embrace. As gravity pulled me over the railing, I saw Mary burst out onto the second-floor balcony. Her eyes were wide with primal terror. “William! NO!”

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1 I always thought I couldn’t dream. Then one day, my husband brought me a tonic to calm my nerves. I drank it and dreamed for the first time. In the dream, his struggling company made a miraculous comeback, becoming an industry leader. Days later, it came true. But joy was brief. A sudden car accident left my legs paralyzed. When pain kept me awake, he brought the tonic again. I dreamed a second time: my son, who always struggled in school, aced the entrance exam and got into a top university. Days later, he ranked first in the state. At that same moment, I was diagnosed with acute liver necrosis. Half my liver was removed. After surgery, my husband held my hand, crying, “Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you.” Then he brought another bowl of the tonic. I trembled, trying to push it away. But he pried my mouth open and poured it in. “Be good, Mindy. It’s a family recipe—a painkiller. Drink, and the pain will go.” My consciousness faded into a third dream: my father-in-law, dying of cancer, fully recovered. I woke with a jolt, a metallic taste in my throat. My heart stopped. I died instantly. Then I opened my eyes—back to the day he first handed me that bowl of tonic. … My husband, Joey, came from a long line of herbalists, and the Dream-Soothing Tonic was his family’s secret recipe. He’d recently improved the formula, claiming it not only helped you sleep more soundly but also guaranteed beautiful dreams. As I stared at the bowl, its unique herbal aroma filling the air, goosebumps erupted on my skin. In my past life, driven by curiosity about the dreams I could never have, I had drunk Joey’s tonic. And just as he’d promised, I had a beautiful dream. Not only that, but the dream came true. But I never imagined the price for making my dreams a reality was my own life. Joey carefully blew on the spoonful of hot liquid. “Honey, you said you wanted to know what it’s like to dream. Come on, try it!” “I even added some honey, so it tastes great and works even better!” I scooted back on the bed, away from the proffered spoon. “You know, I think I’m fine without dreams. Every medicine has its side effects. I think I’ll pass.” He persistently pushed the spoon toward my lips. “These are all restorative herbs. I promise, there are no side effects.” I pressed my lips together, refusing to drink. Clatter! The spoon clattered back into the bowl. Joey’s face darkened. “Mindy, don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m trying to hurt you?” His voice was tight with suppressed anger. If I provoked him further, I knew he would do the same thing he did in my past life—pry my mouth open and force it down my throat. I stared at the murky green, life-draining liquid and clutched my stomach. “Of course not! It’s just… my stomach is acting up. I don’t feel like eating anything.” Joey hesitated. He was about to say something else, but I curled up on the bed, feigning a wave of pain. He had no choice but to take the tonic and leave. “Alright, you get some rest. If it’s really bad, we’ll go to the hospital.” I let out a long breath. I had dodged a bullet. A few minutes later, Joey returned with a packet of stomach medicine. “Feeling any better? Take this, it’ll help.” I sat up immediately. “Much better! I don’t need it.” I couldn’t risk taking anything he gave me. He didn’t force me this time. He helped me out of bed. “Well, come have dinner then. Mom made her special chicken soup to soothe your stomach.” I had no reason to refuse. I went to the dining table. My mother-in-law ladled a huge bowl of soup for me. The broth was fragrant and clear, dotted with vibrant green scallions. It looked delicious. It seemed to have nothing to do with the murky green tonic. My son, Leo, quickly downed two bowls. My mother-in-law put a drumstick in my bowl. “Go on, Mindy, eat up! You always loved my chicken soup. It’ll get cold if you wait!” The whole family was eating heartily, paying no attention to me. I cautiously took a sip. If everyone is eating it, it must be fine, I thought. I can’t just stop eating forever. I forced down a few bites and left the table. I thought that by avoiding the tonic, I had avoided my fate. But as soon as I fell asleep, I started dreaming again. 2 Just like in my past life, I dreamt that Joey’s failing company landed a massive contract, rocketing to the top of the industry. I woke up in a cold sweat. I felt no joy, because I knew that Joey’s success was meant to be paid for with my legs. Seeing me awake, Joey asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Did you have a dream?” I stared at him suspiciously. “Did you give me the tonic?” He shook his head, his face a mask of innocence. “Of course not. You said you didn’t want it.” I racked my brain. I truly hadn’t consumed anything suspicious. Could it all be a coincidence? Was the tonic unrelated? Joey stroked my head, his voice full of sympathy. “Is your stomach still bothering you? If you’re not feeling well, just take the day off work.” The memory of being crippled made me shiver. I took a week off. I decided I wouldn’t set foot outside my house. That way, there was no chance of a car hitting me. After Joey left, I went to the fridge and took out the leftover chicken soup from last night. When I lifted the lid of the clay pot, my pupils constricted. At the very bottom was a pile of familiar herbs. No wonder I’d dreamed again. The chicken soup had been brewed with the tonic’s ingredients! But why, if the whole family drank it, was I the only one paying the price? I collected the herbs from the pot and sent them to a lab for analysis. I was going to find out what was so special about that tonic. Before the results came back, I got a call from Joey. His voice was electric with excitement. “Honey, I landed a huge contract! The company’s fortunes are turning around!” My breath caught in my throat. In my past life, I had received this same call on my way home from work. And then the accident happened. Thank God I was at home this time. There was no way I could get into a car accident here. But a few moments later, a message popped up in the parent-teacher group chat from my son’s homeroom teacher. “The school bus has broken down. Parents, please come pick up your children after school today.” School ended in two hours. I had a terrible feeling that the moment I stepped outside, I would be hit by a car. I couldn’t go. My son was an adult now. He could surely make his own way home. I decided to let him. But two hours later, a torrential downpour began. Leo called me. “Mom, where are you? The rain is insane, and I can’t get a cab!” I told Joey to go pick him up. But he claimed he was in a critical meeting and couldn’t leave. Leo’s calls kept coming, one after another, as the storm raged on. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to force me out of the house. In a flash of inspiration, I remembered that his teacher lived in the building across from ours. I quickly called her and begged her to walk Leo home. She readily agreed. Soon, I heard a knock at the door. “Mom, open up! I’m home!” Relief washed over me. I stood up to let him in. But as I took my first step, a hard object tripped me. The world spun, and I crashed heavily onto the floor. Before I lost consciousness, I saw what had tripped me. It was my son’s remote-control car. 3 I woke up in a hospital room. Joey sat by my bed, his eyes red-rimmed. I couldn’t feel my legs. I never would have imagined that a toy car could leave me paralyzed. Was there truly no escape from the tonic’s curse? Joey’s voice cracked as he tried to comfort me. “Don’t be sad, honey. I’m rich now. I can take care of you for the rest of your life!” He held out another bowl of the tonic. “You must be in so much pain. This will help. Drink it, and the pain will go away.” I swiped the bowl from his hands, sending it crashing to the floor. I screamed, not caring who heard. “Your company’s success was bought with my legs! And you still want me to drink this poison?” Joey looked bewildered. “Mindy, what are you talking about? How could one be exchanged for the other? What does this have to do with the tonic?” A notification pinged on my phone. The lab results were in. I laughed coldly. “If it has nothing to do with it, why did you put the tonic’s herbs in the chicken soup? Don’t even try to deny it. I have the lab report right here. I’m calling the police!” Joey looked utterly baffled. “Those herbs were just for flavor! They’re not poisonous! The whole family drank the soup. No one is trying to hurt you. Why would you call the police?” I wasn’t listening. I opened the report. And then I stared, dumbfounded. The report stated that the herbs were not only harmless but were actually high-quality, beneficial supplements. How could that be? If there was nothing wrong with the tonic, why was Joey so insistent that I drink it? And why did I, a person who never dreams, suddenly start dreaming after drinking it? Maybe the herbs in the soup were an incomplete formula? Seeing my silence, Joey picked up the bowl from the floor, scooped up some of the spilled liquid, and drank it himself. “See, Mindy? The tonic is perfectly fine. I drank it, and nothing happened. Why would I ever hurt you?” I was completely lost. Even if the soup was an incomplete version, what he just drank was the real deal. He’d done it without a second’s hesitation. Joey set the bowl down. “I understand you’re having a hard time accepting this, and you’re suspicious of everything. How about this: for a while, just order takeout. Focus on getting better and try not to overthink things.” I lay back on the bed, feeling defeated. But I still didn’t believe the tonic was harmless. I collected the residue from the shattered bowl. This time, I sent it to a well-known psychic. Leo’s college entrance exams were over. It was only a few days until the date I’d lost my liver in my past life. I couldn’t let my guard down. I ate only one meal a day, prepared and delivered by my own mother. But two hours before the exam results were to be announced, I unexpectedly fell asleep. I dreamed that my son, who had always been at the bottom of his class, scored a 690. I was shaken awake by Leo himself. “Mom! I got a 690!” he shouted, ecstatic. A searing pain shot through my abdomen, and my face went pale. I had been so careful. How was this happening again? As the doctors wheeled me away, I saw Leo staring at my IV drip… with a smile on his face. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. The liquid in the IV bag was a faint, pale green. Like diluted Dream-Soothing Tonic. 4 When I woke up again, the doctor looked at me with pity. “I’m sorry. You suffered from sudden acute liver necrosis. We had to remove half of your liver.” The incision in my abdomen throbbed. Leo was crying his eyes out. “Don’t be scared, Mom! I’ll get into a great school, and I’ll make something of myself so I can take good care of you!” Joey hugged me tightly. “Honey, what is happening? Why is our luck so bad?” My eyes were vacant. I had thought Leo was oblivious to all of this. But that one look I saw before I passed out sent a chill through my soul. They all knew. They all knew the tonic was dangerous, and they were deliberately using my life to secure their own good fortune. I wouldn’t let them win. I would not close my eyes again until the psychic gave me an answer. As long as I didn’t dream, I was safe. After three sleepless days and nights, the psychic contacted me. “Are you, by nature, a person who does not dream?” I sat up, my heart pounding. “Yes! How did you know?” The psychic sighed. “That explains it. There is a dark, karmic ritual involving a Fortune Transference Tonic. It allows a person to make their dreams a reality, but at a cost of flesh and blood.” “Normally, a person’s dreams are too chaotic to control. But if the desired dream is written on a special talisman, burned, and dissolved into the tonic, then fed to a naturally dreamless person, the dream can be controlled.” “And the corresponding backlash is borne entirely by the dreamless one.” I gasped. So that was it. That’s why it only ever affected me. The psychic continued, his voice grave. “You have already paid the price twice. A third time will likely cost you your life.” “This tonic is incredibly potent. A single drop is enough. It will be almost impossible to guard against.” I begged him to help me. He sent me a talisman and told me to place it under my pillow. After three days, I was to burn it to ash, mix it with water, and drink it. It would nullify the tonic’s effects. I hid the talisman from Joey and Leo, just as the psychic instructed. Joey started visiting more frequently. He was getting impatient. Three days later, he brought me a bowl of bird’s nest soup. “Honey, Dad was so worried when he heard you were sick. He insisted I bring this for you.” The soup was in a pristine white porcelain bowl. But I could have sworn it had a greenish tint. I claimed I was feeling unwell and refused to drink it. Joey’s face twisted into a snarl. He grabbed my chin, forcing my jaw open. “My father is dying of cancer, and he’s still worried about you! How can you be so ungrateful?” He was stronger than me. The soup was poured down my throat. Joey smiled, satisfied. “There, that’s better. I’m only doing this for your own good.” Just then, the pillow on the bed slipped to the floor, revealing the talisman underneath. Joey snatched it up. “What is this?” This was my last chance. I bit down hard on his hand, grabbed the talisman, and quickly burned it. I mixed the ashes with the dregs of the soup he had brought and drank it all down. “It’s the Fortune Transference Tonic, isn’t it?” I laughed, a wild, desperate sound. “I already know everything!” The color drained from Joey’s face. But for some reason, my eyelids were growing heavy. As I collapsed onto the bed, the third dream began. I dreamt my father-in-law’s cancer was miraculously cured. I struggled to wake up, and when I did, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. I was on the operating table before I could even process what had happened. I drank the counter-talisman, just like he said. Why did I dream again? My breathing became shallow. A doctor shouted, “Her heart rate is dropping! Get the defibrillator!” My vision blurred. Am I going to die again? I fought to keep my eyes open, wanting one last look at the world. And suddenly, my pupils constricted. That’s it. I finally understood the truth.

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In one week, I’m boarding a flight for a medical mission in the remote Rockies, and then I’ll never have to see Victoria again. I found out about everything a month ago. Including the secret of the child growing inside her. Just now, she went to the restroom and handed me her phone to hold. The screen lit up with a message from her best friend: Hey, prenatal checkup today. Make sure your husband isn’t with you. I scrolled up through the chat history and found something that hit me like a physical blow. Her friend had asked when she planned on telling her husband she was pregnant with some college kid’s baby. Victoria’s reply: I promised him one life, one love, just the two of us. If I break that promise, we’re over. For good. So she had decided never to tell me. To let the secret die with her. She even wrote that she’d have the child call me Dad. Just then, Victoria returned. She guided my hand to my cane and cooed, “I was only gone for three minutes and I missed you like crazy.” She didn’t notice that my sight had returned weeks ago. She didn’t see me watching her, really seeing her, from behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses. 1 I placed the phone back in her hand and urged her to go on home. “I can handle submitting my resignation myself. You should head back.” Victoria’s brow furrowed, ready to insist on staying with me. But then, a voice called out from across the hall. “Vic! Fancy seeing you here. Did you get my text?” A young man with an easy smile strolled over. “Coming to the hospital, and you didn’t bring Henry along to help?” Victoria froze, a wave of panic washing over her face. She leaned in close to the newcomer and whispered harshly, “Can’t you see him standing right here?” The guy, unfazed, simply waved a hand right in front of my face. Then he gave Victoria a playful nudge. “Relax. Henry here wouldn’t know a thing, no matter what you get up to.” He grinned at me. “A smart man knows when to let his woman be, right, Henry?” I just nodded along. “Go with your friend. You don’t have to stay with me.” With that, I turned and walked away. Victoria reached for my hand, but the young man, Liam, intercepted her, his expression a mask of feigned hurt. “Vic,” he whined, “you’re not going to leave me to go to the appointment for our baby all alone, are you?” Her feet stopped moving. Her hand instinctively found his and squeezed it. Her voice, when she spoke, was syrupy sweet, a tone I’d never heard her use before. “Of course not, silly.” When I submitted my resignation, the hospital director was overjoyed to hear my vision had recovered. But then he asked, again and again, if I was absolutely certain about the medical mission in the Rockies. It was a three-year commitment. I just gave him a firm, steady nod. Leaving the director’s office, I walked past the ultrasound room. Through the crack in the door, I saw it all. Liam, his ear pressed gently against Victoria’s stomach, listening. And Victoria, her hand stroking his hair with a tenderness she once reserved for me. Liam planted a soft peck on her belly, and she let out a little gasp of a laugh. A nurse nearby reminded her to avoid any strenuous activity for the time being. Victoria nodded dutifully, but her friends, gathered around, couldn’t contain their giggles. “Oh, how’s our boy here supposed to contain all his… energy!” one of them teased. Liam ducked his head, a shy smile on his face, and mumbled, “Yeah, I mean, we were all over each other on your and your husband’s bed just a few days ago.” It was the first time I had ever seen Victoria blush like that. The others piled on. “This is more like the Vic we know! Seriously, what’s a blind man like Henry Anderson got to offer you anymore?” “Besides, even if he found out, what could he do? No one wants a blind man. He’d never leave you.” The blush vanished from Victoria’s face, replaced by a dark, thunderous expression. “Don’t you dare let a word of this get back to him. Understand?” she warned, her voice low and sharp. Her friends just waved her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You and Liam could do it right in front of his face every day and he’d never know.” “Relax, Vic. It’s fine.” Just then, a nurse behind me called out. “Dr. Anderson? You left this in the director’s office.” The chatter inside the ultrasound room died instantly. Victoria shot up from her seat, her eyes wide with panic as they darted toward me. “Henry,” she stammered, her voice trembling slightly, “you… you didn’t hear anything just now, did you?” A flicker of guilt crossed her face, but she didn’t seem to notice that her hand was still intertwined with Liam’s. “I just got here. Didn’t hear a thing.” She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Then, she quickly added, “I was just here with my friend. For her and her husband’s prenatal checkup.” As she spoke, Liam hooked his pinky around hers, his eyes meeting mine over her shoulder with a look of pure provocation and contempt. I lowered my head. “I’m heading home. You guys carry on. I won’t disturb you.” I turned and walked away, my pace quickening until it felt like I was running. Once in my car, I stared out at the blur of traffic, a knot tightening in my chest. A bitter sting pricked my eyes, and my vision blurred for a different reason now. Even though I had already made my decision to leave, the pain was a physical, crushing weight. Before the accident, my eyes were fine. I once had a patient, a man who had gone blind. His family treated him like a burden, and the woman he loved left him without a second thought. I remember telling Victoria about it, and she’d said with such conviction, “That kind of woman is just trash.” She swore that even if the world ended, she would love me until her last breath. And now, here we were, at a fork in the road. And I was choosing my path first. Back home, I collapsed onto the floor, the stark white light of the ceiling fixture stabbing at my newly healed eyes. I met Victoria in a university club. She was the campus queen—perfect grades, scholarships piling up. I fell for her the moment I saw her. She was gentle even in her rejections. Every day, I’d stand under her dorm window like a fool, bringing her breakfast I’d made myself, even as she politely turned me down. Until the day one of the guys she’d rejected came at her with a knife. I stepped in front of her. And that was how I lost my sight. My future, shattered. The surgeon I was meant to be became a psychologist. In that chaotic moment, she had pressed her trembling hands to my bleeding eyes, her voice choked with tears. “Henry, I’ll be your girlfriend, just please, don’t scare me like this.” And so we were together. She was relentless in my recovery, massaging my eyes every day, buying the best medical equipment. She promised to be my eyes. The sound of the lock turning snapped me back to the present. Victoria stepped inside. Seeing me sitting there in the dark, she chided gently, “Why are you still up? It’s so bad for your eyes.” I didn’t answer. She must have sensed the shift in my mood. She came closer, leaning in to kiss my eyes as she always did. But my gaze fell on the man’s jacket draped over her shoulders, and a wave of revulsion washed over me. I flinched away, pushing her back. A look of stunned surprise crossed her face. The timing of my recovery had been a cruel twist of fate. A month ago, I woke in the middle of the night to a sharp, stabbing pain in my eyes. I blinked them open, and to my astonishment, I could see. The world rushed back in blurry shapes, then sharpened into focus. I turned my head, ecstatic, ready to wake Victoria and share the miracle. But I saw a third person in our bed. Liam and Victoria, tangled together right beside me. At the height of their passion, I heard her whisper, “Keep it down… you’ll wake him.” I choked back a sob, clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next day, I applied for the medical mission in the Rockies. “Henry, don’t scare me like this.” Victoria’s voice was laced with a genuine, painful confusion. I brought myself back to the present, closing my eyes. “I’m just tired. That’s all.” But her mind was already racing, connecting dots I hadn’t intended for her to see. “Henry, this morning at the hospital, I swear I was just there with my friend for her checkup.” Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. Her voice trembled. “Henry, I love you, as God is my witness. If I didn’t have you, I don’t know who would ever love me.” That night, she clung to me as she slept, her arm a dead weight across my chest. She never let go, as if she was terrified I’d vanish by morning. The next day, she prepared a huge breakfast, a feast laid out just for me. She watched with hopeful eyes as I sat down to eat. It was the middle of summer, but she was wearing a turtleneck. If I hadn’t seen the dark, angry love bites on her neck the night I regained my sight, I might have asked her if she was feeling sick. She noticed my gaze and looked away. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.” My stomach churned. I forced down a few bites before putting my fork down. Victoria watched me with a worried expression, then suggested we go on a date. This time, she didn’t grab my cane. She led me by the hand straight to the car. As I settled into the passenger seat, my eyes landed on a pair of men’s briefs lying on the floor mat. Victoria’s face went pale. She snatched them up, folded them neatly, and stuffed them into her pocket. She drove us to an orphanage on the outskirts of the city. She seemed to know the place well, pulling me by the hand toward a group of children playing in the yard. She passed out candy, encouraging the kids to come and talk to me, to cheer me up. Their laughter was a balm, and for a while, the knot of tension in my shoulders began to ease. Victoria watched me the entire time, rushing to my side if I stumbled while playing with the kids, her hands hovering, ready to catch me. When she finally saw a genuine smile on my face, she visibly relaxed. Then, when the moment felt right, she approached me, her voice soft and gentle. “Henry, you’ve always wanted a child, haven’t you?” “I have some wonderful news. I’m pregnant!” As if on cue, Liam appeared, walking slowly toward us. Victoria pulled the folded briefs from her pocket and discreetly passed them to him. He gave her a knowing look. Then, she took my hand and placed it on her flat stomach. “This is my friend’s husband,” she explained smoothly. “He’s been a great help to her during her pregnancy. Since it’ll be harder for me to take care of you now, I was thinking… maybe he could move in with us for a while? To help you out?” The joy I’d felt playing with the children evaporated. A chill spread through my veins. My voice was colder than I had ever heard it. “Are you sure it’s my child?” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. Help me? Or help them carry on their affair under my own roof? Make me a father to her lover’s child? I wasn’t interested. My question made Victoria flinch. “Henry, what are you saying? That’s not a funny joke.” The rage boiled over. In a single, fluid motion, I spun around and drove my fist into Liam’s jaw. He crumpled to the ground. The next thing I knew, Victoria was screaming at me. “Henry Anderson, you’ve gone too far this time!” It was the first time she’d ever used my full name. The first time she’d ever raised her voice to me in anger. I let out a bitter laugh, playing right into Liam’s hands. “So what if I have?” For a second, her hand rose, ready to slap me. But it hung there, trembling in the air, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she lowered it, her jaw tight. “I’m taking Liam to get some ice for his face,” she said, her voice strained. “You can find your own way home.” She helped Liam to his feet and wrapped her arm around his, leading him away without a backward glance. After she left, the sky opened up. A cold, driving rain began to fall. It seemed she had forgotten she hadn’t brought my cane. She had forgotten what it was like for a blind man to be abandoned in an unfamiliar place, with no one to guide him. But I wasn’t blind anymore. I walked over to a nearby trash can, pulled the dark glasses from my face, and dropped them inside. With my own eyes, clear and sharp, I looked down the road and walked out of that place for good. In the final days before my flight to the Rockies, Victoria was rarely home. When she was, a message would pop up on her phone, and she would leave in a hurry. Believing I couldn’t see, she made no effort to hide the screen. That’s how I discovered her second account, a private one she used to message only one person: Liam. Three days before I left, Liam posted a picture of an ultrasound on his social media. Friends commented on how much the baby already looked like Victoria. That day, I took everything Victoria had ever bought me on our dates and donated it to the orphanage. Two days to go. Victoria’s private account posted a photo of a heart-shaped breakfast she’d made for Liam. I listed the wedding suit she’d bought me on a second-hand website. The final day. Liam used Victoria’s main account to post a picture of her sleeping peacefully. The comments were flooded with congratulations. My flight was boarding soon. I picked up my suitcase, ready to walk out the door. And then she appeared. She stood in the doorway, phone in hand, her eyes red and swollen. “Henry,” she demanded, her voice shaking with rage, “why is your name on the list for the Rockies medical mission?!” Her words barely registered. Of course. As the Head of Surgery, she would have to approve the list of volunteers. Her agitation was a stark contrast to my own profound calm. “I wanted to go, so I went. What’s the problem?” “The problem? It’s a three-year post, Henry! Three years! Not three hours, not three minutes! If you’re not here, what am I supposed to do all by myself?” she shrieked, all composure gone. I gave a small, careless shrug. “Oh, but you’re not alone. You have Liam. And, of course, your baby.”

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At the company victory party, Sophia took the mic and announced to everyone that she wanted a new husband. The words hit me like a physical blow, freezing me where I stood. But down in the crowd, a young man named Ryan erupted in laughter. He loudly mocked the idea of an old guy like me being scared stiff at the thought of being dumped. He then urged Sophia to make good on their bet. She’d wagered the most, he crowed, and now she owed him a cool $5,200. The room joined in, roaring with laughter. Sophia, without a second glance at me, stepped off the stage. After transferring the money, she even playfully nuzzled against Ryan’s chest. Only then did she turn back to me, her voice light and dismissive. “It was just a joke, Alex. We were just having fun with the kid, livening things up. Don’t take it seriously.” She must have thought I’d swallow my pride and let it go, just like I always did. But this time, I picked up the microphone. “Funny you should say that, Sophia,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. I let the silence hang for a beat before adding, “Because my wish was exactly the same.” 1 The laughter died instantly. Sophia’s face darkened. “Everyone’s just messing around,” she snapped. “What are you trying to prove?” Before I could answer, she waved a dismissive hand at the crowd, her tone dripping with condescension. “Our CEO, Mr. Reed, has been a bit emotionally unstable lately. I apologize on his behalf.” Ryan tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Could it be a mid-life crisis? Tell me, Sophia, can you smell the old man on him when you’re in bed at night?” He clapped a hand over his mouth in mock innocence. Sophia feigned a scolding tone. “Ryan, don’t be rude.” But the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice… there was no reprimand in it. Only pure, unadulterated indulgence. Ryan caught it, too, and his arrogance swelled. A chorus of snickers rose from the crowd. The eyes on me were filled with mockery and contempt. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, a spiderweb of hurt spreading through my body. Ten years. I had been with her from nothing, watched her build an empire. And this was my reward: to be publicly shamed while she shielded a younger man, treating me as if I were worthless. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and took a deep breath. “Ryan,” I said, my voice steady, “you should know that illegal gambling and public slander are grounds not just for termination, but for a lawsuit. I could have you arrested.” The color drained from Ryan’s face. He shot a panicked look at Sophia. Their shared glance was a knife in my gut. In the next second, she stepped forward. Just like she used to do for me, she planted herself firmly in front of Ryan, a human shield. “Don’t you pull that ‘boss’ act with me, Alex Reed,” she spat. “Weren’t you the one who cried his eyes out ten years ago when you got fired over two hundred dollars?” I looked at her, and a bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. She was right. If she hadn’t gotten into that fight back then, I wouldn’t have been fired. I wouldn’t have been two hundred dollars short on rent, feeling like my world was ending. Back then, she had cupped my tear-stained face, her eyes fierce and devoted. “Anyone who dares to hurt you,” she’d sworn, “I’ll give my life to make them pay.” Now, the very person who had promised to protect me for life was the one holding the umbrella that sheltered the man stabbing me in the back. The irony was suffocating. Tired of the standoff, Sophia grabbed my arm and dragged me into an adjacent private room. She shoved me hard. The new leather shoes I was wearing, stiff and unforgiving, dug into my ankle, drawing blood. I hissed in pain. Sophia paused, her voice cold. “You insist on wearing them even if they don’t fit. Always making things harder for yourself. No wonder you have to pick on a kid like him.” “If you’re done, you should just go home. I’m busy.” Without another glance, she turned and left. I sat on the sofa, stunned, for a long time before I finally pulled out my phone. An employee had posted from the party. Ryan’s post was the most prominent. Just two pictures. One was a screenshot of the $5,200 transfer. The memo read: From my idol~ The other was a photo of him and Sophia, their heads close together. Ryan looked blissful; Sophia was smiling down, a soft look on her face. The comments were full of his thinly veiled jabs about me being bad-tempered and unromantic. I looked down at the expensive, ill-fitting shoes on my feet and finally accepted the truth. Some people are only with you for the struggle, not the success. The warmth of the past, the promises—they were real. But the coldness of the present, the change of heart—that was real, too. I picked up my phone. The two cruise tickets I’d booked months ago stared back at me. I had tried so many times to patch up the thousand little cracks in our ten-year history. But now, with a simple tap of my finger, I cancelled Sophia’s ticket. Then, I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer. For the rest of my journey, I realized, I no longer had to wait for anyone. It was late when I got home. In my dreams, I was back in the blizzard from ten years ago. In our tiny rented room, Sophia and I huddled together for warmth. No parents, no connections, just our own two hands to build a life. Back then, I was constantly anxious about being five years older than her. But one day, she came home, a mysterious smile on her face. She rolled up her sleeve to reveal my name, Alex Reed, freshly and bloodily carved into the pale skin of her forearm. Her eyes shone with a frightening intensity as she rushed to reassure me. “See? Now you don’t have to be scared. If I, Sophia, ever stop loving you, my life has no meaning.” Those days of struggling, of finding warmth in each other, churned over and over in my sleep. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the fractured reality of the present. Sophia was sitting by the bed, her voice devoid of emotion. “So you just hide under the covers and sulk when I’m not home? Alex, what would it cost you to just soften up a little?” I turned my back to her, unwilling to speak. She took a deep breath and sat on the sofa behind me. “You know, Alex,” she said casually, “you can’t even give me a child. By all rights, I’ve already done more than enough for you.” “And I came back today to tell you that Ryan is dealing with depression. I need you to stop targeting him.” Her tone was light, but her words plunged a knife into my deepest wound. I shot up, grabbing the bedside lamp and hurling it at her. My voice was a ragged tremor. “Sophia, if I hadn’t walked for two hours in that blizzard to close that deal for you, our little Lily would be here right now, calling me ‘Daddy’!” “How can you say that, Sophia? Are you even human?” Maybe the raw vulnerability on my face was too much for her. She looked at my reddened eyes, and her expression finally softened. “I can’t be expected to chain myself to a man who brings no value, can I? You know, even the most loyal woman gets tired.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, my laugh sharp with scorn. “What? And I’m supposed to be grateful for that?” A flicker of anger finally ignited in her eyes. “Are you ever going to let it go? In the end, it was your carelessness that we lost Lily. You deserve this!” “Ryan is so much younger than you, but he’s a hundred times more thoughtful. Look at you now! You’re being completely irrational!” She slammed the door on her way out. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, Ryan was the first person I saw at the office. He sauntered in with a cup of coffee, his smile a venomous sneer. “Alex, Sophia told me last night I need to take good care of my body. I guess she’s finally tired of a man like you.” I didn’t even look up from my desk. “Take care of it for what? To be a better toyboy?” Ryan’s face changed, and he opened his mouth to retort, but then we both heard Sophia’s footsteps approaching. He lurched forward, “accidentally” spilling the scalding coffee all over me. My arm instantly turned an angry red. He grabbed me, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Mr. Reed, I was sincerely trying to apologize! Even if you don’t like me, you could at least cut me some slack, knowing my health isn’t good.” Sophia kicked open my office door. “Alex, don’t push it! Do you really think you can do whatever you want?” “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Ryan, I will make you pay!” With that, she helped Ryan to his feet and walked out, right in front of a crowd of gawking employees. The burning pain in my arm was nothing compared to the desolation that flooded my heart. Before I could even form a response, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. My vision went black, and I collapsed. When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. As I struggled to sit up, a nurse who had come to change my dressing gently pushed me back down. “You have a weak heart,” he said. “You can’t overwork yourself like this. Don’t be so reckless with your job.” I froze, staring at him in disbelief. Just then, Sophia’s voice echoed from the hallway. She strode in, her eyes completely void of concern. “You really know how to put on a show, Alex. Ryan’s in the hospital, so you have to be in the hospital too? Are you that desperate for attention?” I looked up at her, intending to tell her what the doctor had said about my heart. But her baseless accusations made any explanation feel pointless. The passion I once had for her had long since rotted away, silenced by her constant, blatant favoritism. Seeing my silence, her voice grew colder. “Fine. Play your little games for as long as you want. I’m not participating.” She turned and left. The room was deathly quiet. I placed a hand over my chest, which for the moment felt steady. As soon as I’m discharged, I thought, I’m leaving. Leaving Sophia, and leaving this place of endless pain. The exhaustion of the past few days washed over me, and I drifted off to sleep. When I opened my eyes again, it was pitch black outside. And standing by my bed, holding my medical chart, was Ryan. Hearing me stir, he whipped his head around, his eyes burning with resentment and malice. “Alex, why did you have to pick now to fight me?” I tried to push myself up, but my body felt leaden. Ryan saw me move and immediately assumed I was going to call for Sophia. He stepped forward, blocking my path, his voice twisted with hate. “Shameless! You cling to your position as Mr. Reed, and now you’re pretending to be sick to solidify your status.” I had no energy to argue. I reached for the call button on the bedside table. But Ryan shrieked and lunged at me. “Since you won’t listen to reason, then you can just die with that broken heart of yours!” The unexpected force of his shove sent me off balance. My chest slammed hard into the corner of the nightstand. An explosion of pain erupted in my chest, radiating through my entire body. The world spun. I felt a warm trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. The door to the room opened—I don’t know when—and Sophia rushed in. I saw her brow furrow in concern as she started towards me. “Sophia, help me…” Before I could finish, Ryan grabbed her arm, his grip like a vise. He clutched his own chest, his voice trembling and pitiful. “Sophia, it’s not Alex’s fault. I’m the one to blame for falling in love with you. If punishing me makes him happy and makes things easier for you, then I’m willing to accept it.” “But Sophia,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face, “my chest… it hurts so much. Am I going to be okay?” Sophia’s expression changed in an instant. The flicker of concern in her eyes when she looked at me was replaced by cold accusation. “Alex, losing Lily doesn’t give you the right to make everyone else pay for your misery! You’ve gone too far this time!” “I couldn’t save Lily. I refuse to lose another.” She gently helped Ryan up and hurried out of the room. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone. Sticky blood soaked the collar of my shirt. I slowly closed my eyes. I knew that my battered, broken heart had just been crushed one last time. I was woken up by my phone. It was a voice message from Sophia. No apology, no concern. Just a perfunctory, matter-of-fact statement. “Ryan wants to see the ocean, so I’m taking him. There’s no one here to watch your performance, so you can stop the act.” I slowly lowered the phone, placing a hand on the dull ache in my chest. The pain was gone now, replaced by an endless, echoing numbness. I opened my contacts and found my old friend, James. I arranged to transfer all of my company shares and business assets to him. I had considered an amicable divorce, for old times’ sake. Now, it seemed, that was no longer necessary. In the days that followed, I focused on two things: my recovery and finalizing the divorce settlement and asset transfers. Once everything was in order, I went back to the house to pack. The place was a mess, littered with traces of her and Ryan. I ignored it all, quietly packing my things. There was no nostalgia, no regret. Halfway through, Sophia called. “Ryan’s not feeling well. Move out so he can move in.” I tossed the wedding photo from the wall into a box. “Okay,” I said calmly. There was a silence on the other end of the line. She clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. In the past ten years, whenever a situation like this had come up, I would have fought her, screaming and refusing. A note of surprise crept into her voice. “This is our marital home. Have you forgotten?” My hands stilled. A bone-deep chill spread through me. So she did remember what this place meant to me. And yet, she still chose to trample on it, to provoke me in the cruelest way possible. I composed myself. “It’s fine,” I said softly. “Do whatever you want.” My compliance seemed to infuriate her. “Fine. Great. Since you don’t care about anything, then you can give your General Manager position to Ryan!” I didn’t say another word. I hung up, mailed the package, and checked the time. My cruise departed in five hours. Just as I was about to leave, a crew of workers swarmed in and started demolishing the interior of the house. I stopped them, frowning. “Who let you into my home?” The foreman didn’t even look up. “Ms. Sophia’s orders. Tear everything down and redecorate it to Mr. Ryan’s liking.” Just then, Ryan appeared at the door, a triumphant smirk on his face. “See, Alex? No matter how much you struggle, Sophia chose me in the end. You should just give up.” I looked at his smug face and found it laughable. Not bothering to argue, I walked towards the elevator. But as the doors opened, I came face-to-face with Sophia. “Where are you going?” “A business trip.” Hearing this, her posture relaxed slightly. “Don’t think you can use a business trip as an excuse to miss the promotion meeting,” she said. “I’m telling you, you have to be there!” I didn’t even spare her a glance as I stepped into the elevator. How could she know that in a few hours, I would be on a cruise ship? And that after the trip, I would be flying directly to James’s country. Never to return. Sophia watched me go, her voice laced with a petulant threat. “You’d better not regret this, Alex Reed! When you come back crying and begging me to take you back, I won’t!” The elevator doors closed, and the world outside fell away. I had finally left behind the place that held all my youth and all my pain. Sophia, still thinking I was just throwing a tantrum, decided to play along. At Ryan’s promotion meeting, all the company executives were present. Ryan clutched his chest, looking weakly at Sophia. “Sophia, do you think… do you think Alex didn’t come because of me? It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t accepted the promotion…” Sophia’s brow was furrowed, her displeasure obvious. “He’s taking this tantrum too far, bringing it into a company meeting. When he gets back, I’ll make sure he apologizes to you.” She said it with such certainty, as if I would walk through the door at any second, crying and admitting I was wrong. Just then, there was a soft knock on the conference room door. The receptionist walked in with a local courier package. “Ms. Sophia, this is for you. The sender said it was a special gift and that you had to sign for it personally.” Sophia’s eyes lit up. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. This had to be it. My peace offering. She had won again. Her voice held a hint of eager anticipation. “Open it.” The assistant did as she was told, but the next second, her face paled. Inside, there were no flowers, no apology note. Just two documents. One was a signed divorce agreement. The other was a share transfer certificate.

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1 I became a wisp of smoke, hovering in the interrogation room. Below me, Gideon, the country’s most wanted drug lord, was finally caught. He used to be my boyfriend. Everyone was searching for me, the “dirty cop who went rogue for love.” The department even live-streamed the interrogation. The lead interrogator was my father—the narcotics captain who swore to arrest me himself. He slammed the table, roaring, demanding to know where I was. But Gideon just laughed, tears streaming down his face. “You hate her?” he asked scornfully. “Without the intel she gave her life to pass, how could you have caught me?” “I thought she loved me completely. I never imagined she was undercover!” His eyes were red, almost bleeding. “I couldn’t bear to kill her, but she was so damn tough. I had to break her bones, one by one, to make her crack.” Then Gideon’s tone changed. “Captain Stevens, the text that sold out your daughter… it was sent from your phone. Your precious adopted daughter did it.” The broadcast fell silent. My father laughed sharply. “Nonsense! Lies even now! My traitorous daughter put you up to this!” I watched the disgust on his face and screamed without sound: Dad, he’s telling the truth. In the end, they didn’t leave me a single whole bone. … “Captain Stevens, I feel sorry for Kate. Does her death not even earn a shred of your sympathy?” “You’re still protecting that adopted girl of yours.” Gideon’s laughter was choked with tears. My father shot to his feet, but his deputy grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Captain, we’re live.” My father braced his hands on the interrogation table, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll ask you one last time. Where is Kate? Tell me, and I’ll get you a lighter sentence.” “I’ve got enough on me to be executed ten times over. What do I need a lighter sentence for?” Gideon sneered. “But I do want to see you suffer for the rest of your life.” “The abandoned mine at Black Ridge.” Gideon wiped the tears from his face, his smile that of a madman. “Go take a look, Captain Stevens. See if you can piece your daughter back together.” My father’s pupils shrank. His hand froze in mid-air. “Lies,” he rasped, his voice unrecognizable. “Kate isn’t dead. This is all a setup. The wicked live long lives.” He repeated it, as if trying to convince himself. “She was always so afraid of pain. There’s no way… she could have survived torture.” That’s right, Dad. I was always so afraid of pain. When I was little, a scraped knee was enough to make me cry until you comforted me for hours. But Dad, when I was strapped to that iron chair, I shattered three of my own molars from biting down so hard, and I never said a single word. It wasn’t that I wasn’t afraid. It was that I couldn’t be. Because I am a police officer. You taught me that yourself, Dad: to serve and protect, to lay down my life for my country. The deputy jotted down the coordinates. The live feed was cut. My father strode out of the room. Nina saw him storming out and cautiously offered him a glass of water. “Dad, have a drink. I brought you some soup.” The tension in my father’s face eased slightly. He took the glass and patted her shoulder. “Good girl. Don’t hang around the station. Go home and wait.” Nina’s eyes welled with tears. “Dad, I swear I never used your phone to send any messages! Gideon is just trying to turn you against me!” “Kate didn’t even care about getting revenge for Mom, who was killed by drug dealers. She was determined to run off with that monster.” “Now Gideon is probably just trying to clear her name, making up this horrible story about her being dead and in pieces just to break your heart!” The anger my father had just suppressed erupted again. “Don’t mention that traitor! She deserves to be dead, and if she isn’t, I’ll shoot her myself!” “Everyone, get ready to move out. I’m going to see what kind of sick game she’s playing!” I floated in the air, a sharp, stabbing pain piercing my non-existent heart. It hurt more than when Gideon was shattering my bones. It was always like this. All Nina had to do was shed a few tears, whisper a few poisonous words, and everyone would rush to her side. When I was sixteen, I took a knife for Nina, and it went clean through my shoulder. But Nina just cried and said, “Kate was the one who insisted we take that dark alley.” And my father slapped me so hard my ears rang, calling me a reckless troublemaker. That slap hurt, but not as much as this. Two young officers walking by exchanged a glance. One of them whispered. “Nina is such a good kid. She failed the police academy entrance exam twice, but she’s more devoted to the captain than his own daughter. And look at Kate, a dirty cop, a disgrace to the force. She’s dragged her father’s name through the mud.” The other one nodded. “Don’t even talk about her. People like that deserve to die.” The world of the dead is so cold. 2 The abandoned mine at Black Ridge. The team swept their flashlights across the underground passage. The ground was littered with shattered white fragments, mixed with dried, blackened blood. The medical examiner’s voice was hoarse. “Captain, this could be…” “Can you tell if they’re human or animal bones just by looking?” my father cut him off. The M.E. looked down. “The fragmentation is too severe. I can’t find a single piece larger than two centimeters. We’ll have to take them back to the lab for DNA analysis.” My father looked away. “Send them for testing. I’ll only believe the results.” The team began collecting the remains in silence. My father walked toward a corner, his flashlight beam still searching for any sign that I had staged the scene and escaped. The light fell upon the base of the wall, and he stopped dead. Carved into the stone was a sunflower. The lines were crooked and distorted, etched deep into the rock. The edges were crusted with blackened blood and bits of flesh. When I was nine, my mother was killed in the line of duty. My father, a man of few words, could only point to the side of the road to comfort my sobbing self. “Mom became a sunflower,” he’d said. “She’ll always be watching you grow up.” Every year after that, on the anniversary of her death, we would plant sunflower seeds under the oldest cypress tree in the state forest. It was also where we had buried a time capsule together when I was twelve. The deputy approached him. “Find something, Captain?” “Notify the local precinct. Seal off a two-mile radius around the oldest cypress tree in the forest.” “Kate is trying to lure me there. We’re heading back to the station to sort through the intel first.” My father turned his back to the others, but the fists clenched at his sides were trembling uncontrollably. Dad, just go look under the old cypress tree. There’s a gift there I left for you. … Back at the station, everyone was buzzing about the bone fragments. “They have to be fake. It’s a smokescreen planted by Gideon.” “Exactly. What if there’s a tracker hidden in the bones?” “The Captain said the symbol points to the old tree near his place. It’s definitely a trap.” I thought I had become numb to the pain, but their words still cut deep. I knew every inch of this place, every face. And they were all cursing my name. He sat in his office, staring blankly at our old chat history on his phone. Over a hundred messages from him in the past three years. The first few were angry: “Get your ass back here and face the consequences.” Later, they became more formal: “I’ve signed your arrest warrant. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The gaps between messages grew longer, until finally, there was just an occasional, desperate question: “…Where the hell are you.” He scrolled through them again and again. Finally, he locked the screen, turned the phone face down on the desk, and buried his face in his hands. I drifted over to him, wanting to give him a hug. But my form passed right through him. I couldn’t even do that one small thing for him anymore. Dad, I always wanted to reply. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Dad. I let you down. The office door creaked open. Nina came in with a bowl of soup, her eyes red. She pretended to tidy his desk, but “accidentally” knocked over the only framed photo of my father and me. “I’m sorry, Dad… I’m just so scared,” Nina sobbed, covering her face. “Kate isn’t dead. Those bones are just a trick to fool you! Just now, she had someone send me a message, saying she’ll never let me go, that she’ll kill me to get her revenge…” “Enough!” My father shot up from his chair, his shoe grinding the shattered photo into the floor. “Faking her own death, threatening her family… she’s completely lost her mind!” My father’s fists were clenched, his jaw tight. “Don’t you worry, Nina. This time, I’ll tear this city apart if I have to, but I will drag that monster back here myself.” He picked up the internal phone line. “All units, assemble. We’re heading to the state forest. Full-scale search.” Dad, you still believe her so easily. Why couldn’t you ever believe me? 3 “Captain, we’re five hundred meters from the forest entrance. Should we send in a drone for recon first?” “No need.” My father racked the slide of his pistol. The metallic click was sharp in the night air. “If she’s in there, box her in.” “If she runs, I’ll take her down myself.” I floated beside him, a bitter smile on my lips. You’ll never get the chance to shoot, Dad. I’m already dead. One of the younger officers, Chen, followed behind him, hesitant. “Captain… what if there’s no one in there?” “No one?” My father sneered. “I’ll catch her eventually.” The convoy stopped at the edge of the forest. Flashlight beams cut through the trees. “Report, Captain. No signs of any human activity within the forest.” “Thermal imaging is also clear.” After the bomb squad gave the all-clear, a forensics team began to dig. A shovel hit something hard. It was my time capsule. The metal box was pried open. Inside lay a police badge, and beneath it, a piece of paper with my childish handwriting: “I want to be a hero, just like my dad.” The moment my father saw the badge, a look of pure disgust crossed his face. He snatched it, threw it to the ground, and ground it into the mud with his heel. “Keep digging!” He was the one who had pinned that badge on me. Now, he thought I was unworthy of it. On my graduation day, after he’d pinned on my badge, he had hugged me tightly. “You make me so proud,” he’d said. “Always act in a way that honors this badge.” He had been beaming all day, telling everyone he met, “My daughter takes after me.” Dad, I never once disgraced the badge you gave me. My memory was interrupted by a technician’s excited voice. “We’ve found something critical!” It was a metal box, wrapped in three layers of waterproof material. Inside was a fully sealed, electronically locked crypto-case. The technician examined it from every angle. “Captain, this is high-level encryption. We can’t crack it in the field. We have to take it back.” My father gave the box a cursory glance. “Take it back to the station. Tell the tech department they’re all working overtime.” An emergency meeting was called as soon as they returned. Everyone was convinced the box contained a list of Gideon’s accomplices, or a backup of his distribution network—something Kate had left for herself to leverage a deal. The deputy chief slammed his hand on the table. “If this box contains a list of the network, it means Kate didn’t just go rogue—she was actively involved in drug trafficking.” “Stevens, if the evidence is conclusive, we’ll issue a global arrest warrant immediately.” My father sat at the head of the conference table. His shoulders slumped, then he nodded. “Issue the warrant if you have to.” When did my father start to lose faith in me? It began during my first month on the job. I was leading a stakeout, and my phone was on silent for eleven hours straight. When I got home late that night, exhausted, I was met with his fury. “Do you even remember you’re a police officer?” I stood in the doorway, bewildered. I found out later that Nina had mentioned something to him in passing. She’d been walking past a bar and saw me arguing with some guy with bleached-blond hair. Coincidences like that started happening more and more. A designer watch I’d never seen before would appear in my locker. My work computer would be left open to some disgusting online forum. And every time, Nina would use the most innocent tone, the most delicate words, to convince my father that I was the one responsible. In his eyes, I went from being a promising young officer to a corrupt parasite on the system. It’s not that I didn’t try to defend myself. But he never believed me. After Nina framed me one time too many, we had a massive fight. That was the day my life changed forever.

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They all say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. For thirty years, I believed them. Every single day, I’d craft new dishes for my husband, David. His stomach was weak, so I was careful with every pinch of salt. Then came the storm. I saw him with my own eyes, his arm wrapped around his old flame, Linda, in a cheap diner, the two of them lovingly sharing a single ice cream cone. I returned home, soaked to the bone, only to stumble upon his hidden medical report: stomach cancer. So, not only had he betrayed me, but he was also planning to let me wither away by his side, none the wiser, so he could cash in my life insurance and run off with her. The worst part? The absolute joke of it all? He had the audacity to ask Linda to learn my recipes, to “take over for me” when I was gone. Fine. If he wanted to eat from two kitchens, I’d be more than happy to plan his menu. If Linda made him crab, I’d serve a rich tomato stew. If she seared him lamb chops, I’d prepare a refreshing watermelon salad. Let’s just see how long his broken body could take it. 1 After I retired, I started posting videos of my cooking online. My followers always said a talent like mine shouldn’t be confined to a home kitchen. Last month, someone recommended an international culinary competition. All expenses paid, a trip around the world, a huge cash prize for the winner, and even funding to open your own restaurant. It was an incredible offer, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. But my hand hovered over the application page for what felt like an eternity. I just couldn’t bring myself to click. My husband, David, had a terribly weak stomach. He needed constant, meticulous care. For thirty years, my carefully prepared meals were the only thing keeping him going. Without me, he wouldn’t have made it this long. I treated him like a king, but he treated me like the hired help. If a dish was too salty or too bland, if the porridge was too thick or too thin, he’d throw his chopsticks down and demand I remake it. For his health, I endured it. For thirty years. This morning, he surprised me by asking me to buy a chicken to make a broth. A warmth spread through my chest. He never liked chicken soup—but I loved it. And today was my birthday. But just as I bought the chicken, the sky opened up in a torrential downpour. I quickly called him, but he just screamed at me. “You idiot! Can’t you do one simple thing right?” He hung up. The little warmth I’d felt was instantly extinguished. I ran home through the rain, but my feet froze when I saw the diner downstairs. There was David, huddled under a single umbrella with his old flame, Linda, the two of them cooing as they shared an ice cream cone. David wrapped his arm around her. “I had the old woman make you some chicken soup. I’ll bring it over tonight to help you warm up.” Linda pouted playfully. “Who wants chicken soup? I want soda and ice cream. I want to be your sweet little baby.” “Of course,” he cooed back. “You’ll always be my sweet little baby.” I stood there in the pouring rain, smelling the stale cooking oil on my clothes and looking at the blisters on my hands. In that moment, I finally understood just how foolish I’d been for thirty years. When I got home, I was soaked through, but I didn’t bother changing. I went straight to the bedroom and started packing. The competition organizers had said there was a flight tonight. Just then, David walked in. As always, his first words to me were, “Hurry up and make dinner.” I ignored him, continuing to pack my suitcase. When he saw I wasn’t moving, his voice rose. “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you! Did you get the chicken? Get in there and make the soup!” I zipped my suitcase shut and finally looked up at him. “I’m leaving. The house is all yours.” He stared at me for a second, then his face twisted in anger. “What’s gotten into you? So I didn’t pick you up in the rain, and now you’re throwing a fit? I was busy helping a friend!” 2 I stared at the corner of his mouth, where a faint smear of ice cream remained. “A friend? What friend?” He licked his lips reflexively. “Just an old friend. You wouldn’t know her.” “The doctor said your spleen is weak. You can’t have cold things. Next time you and Linda have a date, maybe you should eat something else.” With that, I grabbed my suitcase to leave, but he lunged forward and seized my arm. “You were following me! Have you no shame?” I ripped my arm from his grasp. “You’re asking me about shame?” He faltered for a moment, then, unbelievably, he smirked. “Yeah, I saw Linda. So what? Can’t old friends catch up? Why are you so damn paranoid?” I looked at his smug, uncaring face and remembered the time I’d served him soup that was slightly too cool. He’d slammed his bowl on the table and screamed at me all night. Now, to please Linda, he was ignoring his doctor’s orders. Suddenly, the fire in my chest fizzled out. It felt like even being angry was a waste of energy. I didn’t say another word. I just picked up my suitcase and walked out of that house without looking back. On the way to the airport, he called me relentlessly. I ignored every call. A few minutes later, my son called. “Mom, what are you doing? Where are you going to go without Dad? I’m out of state, I can’t take care of you!” “Don’t worry,” I said flatly. “I won’t be a burden to you.” I had just hung up when my daughter’s call came through. I sighed, speaking before she could. “I already told you, you don’t need to worry about me!” There was a pause. “Mom, what are you talking about? I got a raise, and I wanted to take you out for a nice dinner. It’s your birthday.” Hearing her words, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. I poured out all the hurt and humiliation from the day. The line was quiet for a few seconds. “Mom,” she said, her voice firm. “You go. Don’t worry about a thing. Even if you lose the competition, it doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of you from now on.” I clutched the phone tighter, a wave of relief washing over me. At least I still had my daughter. “I promise you, honey, I’m going to win. You just wait for me.” At the airport, the texts from David started flooding in: “You’re sixty years old, stop acting like a child! It was just a damn ice cream cone! Get back here and make dinner, I’m starving!” I was done with his nonsense. I turned off my phone. But as I reached the gate, a staff member stopped me. “Ma’am, airline policy requires passengers over sixty to present a recent health report before boarding.” “But I’m in perfect health! Look, I can carry this heavy suitcase with no problem. I’m fine, really.” “I’m sorry, but it’s the rule.” The competition organizer tried to help. “There’s another flight tomorrow morning. Why don’t you go home and get the report?” I gazed at the boarding gate and sighed heavily. Fine. One more night. As soon as the sun came up, I would be free. I heard the sound of laughter as I approached my front door. When I pushed it open, the scene inside made me freeze. David and Linda were on my bed, their clothes in disarray. Linda scrambled to her feet, frantically straightening her shirt. “Susan, don’t get the wrong idea! I was just making David some dinner. You should have some, too.” I let out a cold laugh. “No, thank you. I’m afraid I might catch something.” “What the hell are you talking about?” David snapped. “If it wasn’t for Linda, I would have starved! You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here! I thought you were so tough.” I ignored him and started searching for my health report. He kept yelling. “Since you’re back, you better start behaving! You pull that face with me again, and you won’t see a single penny from me!” Linda awkwardly picked up her purse. “Well, since Susan’s back, I should probably get going.” 3 David rushed to see her out. I heard their hushed voices from the doorway. “David, you should go check on her,” Linda whispered. “I think she’s looking for that health report.” “Let her find it! Maybe when she sees she has terminal stomach cancer, she’ll finally shut up and stay by my side where she belongs.” “What do you mean? You mean you still have feelings for her?” “Of course not! While she’s alive, she’s a free maid. When she’s dead, I get a fat insurance payout. I’m going to use her until there’s nothing left!” I stared at the report in my hands. My own name, my own diagnosis: mid-stage stomach cancer. My mind went blank, and my hands started to tremble uncontrollably. The man I had painstakingly cared for for thirty years didn’t just see me as a free maid. He was actively waiting for me to die. I looked at the pot of chicken soup still simmering on the stove, and a cold resolve settled over me. If that’s how he wanted to play it, then I would stay. And I would put my heart and soul into every single meal I made from now on. The moment David walked back in, I ladled a bowl of chicken soup and placed it in front of him. “Drink this while it’s hot. I even added a few slices of ginseng for you.” He eyed me with suspicion. “What’s this all about?” I let out a soft sigh. “You’re right, I overreacted today. It was foolish to make such a scene over an ice cream cone.” A smug grin spread across his face. “It’s about time you came to your senses. Besides, where would you go without me?” My voice cracked as I replied, “You’re right. At my age, where else could I go? This house is all I have.” I pushed the soup towards him. He took it and drank the entire bowl in one gulp. I reached for a napkin to wipe his mouth, but he shoved my hand away. “Pathetic. From now on, just stick to your cooking and stay out of my business.” I nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to put my heart into every meal.” As the words left my mouth, he clutched his stomach. “Ow! Why does my stomach suddenly hurt so much?” Watching him stumble towards the bathroom, I clenched the empty bowl in my hands. Ginseng and ice cream. That was just the appetizer. David, your reckoning is coming. From the day I “surrendered,” David became even more brazen. At first, he would meet Linda in secret. Now, he brought her right into our home. “You need to teach Linda how to cook properly,” he told me, his tone matter-of-fact. “That way, when you’re gone, she can take over for me.” I gripped the spatula so hard my nails dug into my palm. The old bastard! I wasn’t even dead yet, and he was already training my replacement. Linda chimed in with a sickeningly sweet smile. “David always says what an amazing cook you are. If you teach me, I can help out and you can finally get some rest.” The old me would have sent them packing with a hot pan. But now, I just smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’d be happy to. Just tell me what you want to learn.” And so, David began eating from two kitchens. He’d have lunch at Linda’s, then come home for the dinner I prepared. On the first day, I taught Linda how to make spicy crab. That evening, I served him a hearty beef and tomato stew. On the second day, I showed her how to pan-sear lamb chops. For dinner, I made a chilled watermelon and lotus seed soup. On the third day, I taught her a simple spinach stir-fry. That night, I made him scrambled eggs with loofah squash. In just three days, David’s face turned as sallow as old newspaper. He spent most of his time clutching the toilet, moaning in pain. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with him, just advised him to watch his diet and avoid street food. Hearing this, David became even more dedicated to eating our home-cooked meals. 4 A week later, he was nothing but skin and bones. That day, Linda stewed beef for him. I, on the other hand, prepared only a small plate of sugar-roasted chestnuts. When he came home that night, he slammed his briefcase down and flew into a rage. “The doctor told me I need to eat well to protect my stomach, and this is the crap you serve me?” I slowly peeled a chestnut, my voice low. “Do you remember what day it is?” “What day?” “It’s our thirtieth wedding anniversary.” I pushed the peeled chestnut towards him. “The day we got our marriage license, you peeled them for me just like this. You said our life together would always be as sweet as these chestnuts.” He scoffed, his face a mask of impatience. “We’re almost seventy. You really think I have time for this sentimental garbage? Just go make some real food!” I rose slowly, my eyes locked on his. “Do you know why you’ve been having such terrible diarrhea lately?” “Spicy crab with tomato stew. Seared lamb with watermelon soup. It was all part of a menu I carefully designed, just for you.” He shot to his feet, stumbling back a few steps. “What are you saying? You’ve been poisoning me?” I just stared at him in silence. He scrambled to the sink and began to retch violently. “You venomous bitch! I’m calling the police!” A cold smile touched my lips. “Go ahead. Call them right now.” I slapped the life insurance policy down on the table. “Let’s have the police see who bought a massive policy on me. Let them see who deliberately hid my cancer diagnosis from me. Let them see who’s been praying for me to die every single day!” He stared at me for a few seconds, and then a slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “So, you know. No point in hiding it anymore.” “That’s right, I’m waiting for you to die. But I didn’t give you terminal cancer. You can only blame your own bad luck for that.” “I suggest you go back to being a good little wife and taking care of me. You wouldn’t want to make this a bigger mess, would you? If you’re good, I might even buy you a nice burial plot.” I looked at his disgusting face and started to laugh. I pulled another health report from my bag and laid it in front of him. “Such a shame. I went back to the hospital a few days ago. Turns out, they made a mistake. They mixed up our names on the reports. The one with stomach cancer is you, David. Not me.” He snatched the report, his hands trembling as he read it. His face drained of all color. After a long moment, he looked up at me, his eyes wide with fear. “What are you going to do to me?” “You have terminal cancer. Do I really need to do anything? The divorce papers are on the table. I’ve already signed them.” “I’d suggest you call your dear Linda to take care of you. After all, your little pension won’t be enough to hire a nurse.” “Susan,” he whispered, his voice pleading. “You’re joking, right? This is a joke.” I let out a final, cold laugh, picked up my suitcase, and walked out of the house. He screamed my name behind me, but I didn’t turn back. This time, with a clean bill of health in my hand, I passed through security without a problem. But just as I was about to step onto the jet bridge, two police officers stopped me. “Are you Ms. Susan Clark? We’ve received a report that you are a suspect in an attempted murder. Please come with us.”

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During the holiday weekend road trip, Mark insisted on stopping at the abandoned rest stop. He said the car was stuffy and he needed some fresh air. He promised he’d be right back. I waited alone in the car for a full twenty minutes. A gnawing unease made it impossible to just sit there, so I finally got out to find him. When I reached the derelict gas station, the scene before me struck me like a bolt of lightning—Mark and Katina were locked in a passionate kiss. Katina was nestled in his arms, her voice a seductive purr. “Isn’t this thrilling? Your wife is waiting in the car, and you’re out here doing this with me.” Mark let out a low chuckle, his tone indulgent. “You little minx. Keep it down, you don’t want to make my wife angry.” I froze around the corner, my mind flashing back to when he was trying to win me over. I’d told him then that I despised cheaters more than anything in the world because my own father had ruined my mother’s life that way. He had looked me in the eye and said with the utmost seriousness, “Audrey, I would never do that to you. If I ever do… I’m yours to command.” Now, he had betrayed me after all. And everything I had ever given him—it was time to take it all back. 1 I answered a phone call, then turned and walked back to the car. “Audrey!” Mark called out from behind me. I didn’t stop. Katina’s voice followed, laced with tears. “Audrey… I’m so sorry… It’s all my fault…” I pulled open the driver’s side door. “Audrey.” Mark caught up, blocking my way. “Give me the keys,” I said, my voice trembling. “My grandmother is dying. I have to go see her one last time.” “I’ll have someone take care of things with your grandma,” he said after a pause. “The best specialists. They can be there tonight.” I stared at him. Katina had followed, her eyes red as she whispered, “Audrey, please don’t blame Mark… It was me… I seduced him…” Her voice broke, and she hunched her shoulders, looking like a frightened rabbit. Mark glanced at her, then back at me. “Look at her,” he said, his eyes filled with a pained tenderness for her. “She’s a wreck. What more do you want from her?” Katina kept her head down, her shoulders shaking as tears splattered on the pavement. I suddenly remembered her first day at the office. She had stood timidly at my door, holding a bubble tea. “For you, Audrey.” I never drank it. Mark said he did, and that she was a sweet kid. Later, I took pity on her, a girl who had clawed her way out of a small town all by herself. It wasn’t easy. I helped her with everything, at work and in her personal life. When I couldn’t help, I asked Mark to. And just like that, they helped each other right into the same bed. “Mark,” I said, turning to face him. “My grandmother raised me. She’s in the ICU right now, and I need to see her one last time.” “You know how much she means to me, Mark.” My voice was shaking uncontrollably. He didn’t say anything. My phone vibrated again. A text from my mom: Grandma is fading. Where are you? I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white. Mark saw it. He was silent for a moment, then reached out and gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, his thumb resting on my cheek for a second. “Grandma will be fine. Trust me.” “Just let her apologize,” he said. “She feels terrible. All you have to do is nod. Then I’ll give you the keys.” Katina sniffled beside him, nodding. “Audrey… please accept my apology… I’ll never be able to live with myself if you don’t…” My grandmother was waiting for me. “Fine,” I said. Katina immediately started, “Audrey, I’m so sorry, it’s all my—” “That’s enough,” I cut her off, my eyes fixed on Mark. “The keys.” Mark handed them to me. “Drive safe. I’ll stay with Katina for a couple of days, and then I’ll come find you.” I ignored him, got in the car, and slammed the door. I put the key in the ignition and turned. The engine roared to life. The car didn’t move. I tried again. The wheels were stuck fast. I got out and saw a large, dark puddle spreading on the ground beneath the car. Someone had punctured the gas tank. Mark walked over and glanced under the chassis, frowning. Katina bit her lip, her voice a tiny whisper. “Audrey… I did it. I just wanted a little more time with Mark… I’m sorry…” Mark reached out and tucked a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t be angry,” he said. “I’ll have someone come fix it later.” “You wait in the car,” he said, turning to put his arm around Katina. “I’ll see if I can find some tools.” Katina leaned into his embrace and glanced back at me. Tears still stained her cheeks, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a faint smirk. The sight of them walking away together, his arm around her, was like a knife in my eyes. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my mom: [Honey, Grandma keeps calling your name. Please hurry.] I stared at the words, my hand clenching around the phone. Then, I pulled the diamond ring from my finger. 2 I had to see my grandmother. I searched the entire rest stop. There were no other cars. No other people. No tools. The cell signal was spotty at best. I finally found a place with a decent connection and called for roadside assistance. But the nearest tow truck wouldn’t be able to get here until morning. A section of the highway had collapsed. I hung up just as Mark walked over. “Audrey, let’s just wait until morning,” he said. “Look, you’ve scraped your arm. Come on, don’t make me worry.” I ignored him. A moment later, my phone lit up. It was my grandmother. I answered immediately. “Grandma.” “Audrey…” Her voice was so weak. “When will you be here?” “I’m on my way, Grandma. I’ll be there soon.” “Oh, honey, I miss you. When you were little, you used to love curling up in my lap and having me tell you stories…” “Grandma, save your strength—” “I’m afraid I’m running out of time,” she said with a soft laugh. “When your grandpa passed, I never got to say a final goodbye. Audrey, you have to live a good life.” Tears streamed down my face. “Audrey, that boy, Mark. Is he good to you?” I didn’t answer. “Audrey.” Mark came up behind me. “Let me use your phone,” he said. “Katina’s is dead, and she needs to send a work email.” I clutched the phone tighter and turned my back to him. “I’m on a call. My grandmother—” “I know,” he said, stepping in front of me. “Just for a minute. She’ll give it right back.” “No.” Mark’s brow furrowed. From the phone, I could hear my grandmother’s faint voice: “Audrey? Honey, are you still there?” “Audrey,” his voice dropped, “this client is crucial for Katina. It determines whether she gets a permanent position.” “I said no.” Katina had appeared at some point, standing behind Mark, her eyes red. “Audrey… please… just for a second… it’s really urgent…” Her voice trembled, and fresh tears welled up. “I won’t be long… I’m begging you…” Mark saw her tears, and when he looked back at me, his expression had hardened. “Give it to me.” He held out his hand. I hid the phone behind my back. “Mark, my grandmother is in the ICU—” He didn’t let me finish. He grabbed my wrist and pried my fingers open. He was so much stronger than me. I held on, my nails digging into my own palm. “Mark!” He yanked it free. He turned and handed the phone to Katina. She took it, tears still on her face, and immediately started typing. I stood there, frozen. My grandmother’s last word, “Audrey?”, echoed in my ear. I wanted to snatch it back. Mark blocked me, his face clouded with anger. “It’s one minute. Can’t you wait?” I looked into his eyes. The same eyes that used to look at me with so much love. Now, there was nothing there. Katina finished and handed the phone back. I looked down. The screen showed her social media profile. She had just posted a new picture. It was a photo of her and Mark at the gas station. His arm was around her waist, and her head was resting on his shoulder. The caption read: [Happy holiday weekend! So happy to be out with my man] I stared at the words. Posted from my phone. A picture of her with my husband. During my grandmother’s last phone call. I looked up at Mark. He glanced at the screen and said dismissively, “She’s just messing around. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Messing around. I looked back at my phone. The call with my grandmother had been disconnected. I tried to call back. Her phone was off. I stood there, shaking. Mark came over. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t look at him. “The call with my grandmother dropped.” “Her battery probably died—” Mark was silent for a few seconds. “I’ll figure something out first thing in the morning,” he said. “Don’t panic.” Don’t panic. My grandmother could be dying. She could already be— And he was telling me not to panic. I lifted my head and looked straight at him. “Mark.” “Yeah?” I held his gaze. “Let’s get a divorce.” 3 Mark’s expression finally changed. “What did you just say?” “A divorce. We’ll file as soon as we get back.” He stared at me for a few long seconds. “Audrey—I…” “Ahh—!” Katina’s shriek cut him off. She was crouched by a bench, clutching her leg, her face pale. “A snake! There’s a snake!” she cried, her voice trembling. “It bit me…” Mark glanced at me. Then he turned and ran to her. He knelt down, examining the wound on her calf. Katina grabbed his arm, sobbing hysterically. “Mark, am I going to die…?” “No, you’re not.” Mark ripped a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt and tied it tightly above the bite. Just then, we heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Help had arrived. A tow truck pulled up, and the driver hopped out. “You the ones who called for a tow?” Mark stood up and pointed at Katina. “She’s been bitten by a snake. We need to get her to a hospital, now.” The driver looked at Katina’s leg, then at me. “There’s only room for two in the cab. You can ride on the flatbed, but it ain’t safe.” Mark didn’t hesitate. He pulled open the passenger door and helped Katina inside. Then he looked back at me. “Audrey, you wait here. I’ll take her to the hospital, then I’ll call a car for you.” “How long will I have to wait?” I asked. “It won’t be long.” It won’t be long. Again. He got in the truck and closed the door without a moment’s hesitation. I watched, paralyzed, as Mark drove away with another woman. And he left me here. I stood alone at the rest stop. No car. No signal. No water. No food. Mark never looked back. He wasn’t coming back for me. I knew it. Not because he didn’t care anymore, but because he was so sure that I would wait for him. Just like every other time he’d told me to wait, and I had. I rummaged through my bag in the trunk and took stock. Wallet, ID, one credit card. It was enough. I started walking along the highway. I didn’t know how far it was to the next town, or how long it would take. The blisters on my feet had already burst, and every step was agony, but I didn’t stop. 4 After about an hour of walking, headlights appeared behind me. A trucker pulled over. “Hey there, what’s a young lady like you doing out here all alone?” “My car broke down. Could you give me a ride? Just to the next town with a train station.” “Hop in.” In town, I bought a ticket for the earliest train. Once on board, I borrowed a power bank and turned on my phone. Dozens of messages flooded in. Not a single one was from Mark. I dialed my lawyer’s number directly. “Mr. Harris, I need you to draw up divorce papers.” “I want him to walk away with nothing.” There was a pause on the other end. “Leave him with nothing? That’s going to be difficult, unless there’s proof of gross misconduct—” “He had an affair. I have proof. Also, that major client his company has, Vertex Corp? I was the one who brought them in. Their contract is up for renewal next month, and I’ve already spoken with them. They won’t be renewing.” “…Understood. I’ll draft the agreement immediately.” After hanging up, I called my assistant. “Sophie, book me a flight out of the country for this afternoon. Anywhere. The sooner, the better.” “Ms. Vance, are you alright?” “I’m fine,” I said. It was two days before Mark finally had his assistant contact me. “Ben, I need you to get in touch with Audrey for me. Her phone’s off. Tell her I’m at the hospital, Katina is still in critical condition, and I can’t leave. Tell her to wait for me at the rest stop, I’ll send someone for her later.” Ben hesitated. “Mr. Arnold, Ms. Vance… she’s already back.” “What?” “Sir, we’ve… we’ve received a divorce agreement from her lawyer. And… a notice of contract termination from Vertex Corp.” Mark’s mind went completely blank. He stood frozen, all the strength draining from his body. He didn’t move for a long time. “Mr. Arnold? Sir, are you still there?”

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1 A sudden car crash left me lying on the operating table. The moment the anesthesia failed, I opened my eyes in agonizing pain. The lead surgeon standing over me was my husband, Dr. Roe Hayes. His face showed absolutely no surprise. His voice was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “The people who hit you were your parents,” he said. The words pierced my heart like an ice pick. I trembled, trying to demand an answer, but he didn’t even blink. The cold surgical instruments moved inside me. His voice carried a sick sense of vindictive pleasure. “A year ago, you caused my sister to miscarry. She almost died.” “Now, I am personally removing your three-month-old fetus. Consider us even.” When he held up that tiny, unformed embryo right before my eyes, the reality of what I had just lost finally hit me. A gut-wrenching, soul-tearing hatred surged up my throat, only to be swallowed by a deeper, physical agony. He ordered the nurse to dispose of the tiny life, then turned back to me, his tone conversational. “We either get a divorce so I can openly give her the happiness she deserves…” Seeing my face covered in tears, he added one final condition. “…Or we stay married, but you must accept me taking care of her. You are never allowed to cause her trouble again.” Those words were the final straw that crushed my already snapping nerves. My vision went black, and I passed out entirely. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital recovery room. Roe was sitting by the bed, holding a steaming bowl of chicken soup. His gentle tone made it seem like the nightmare in the operating room had never happened. “I made this for Chloe. She couldn’t finish it, so she told me to bring it to you to help you recover.” Hearing the tenderness when he said the name Chloe snapped me back to reality. A wave of nausea hit me. I violently slapped the hot soup away. “Tell me,” I rasped. “When did the two of you start sleeping together?” The bowl shattered on the floor, the scalding liquid burning the back of my hand. Roe slowly wiped the spilled broth from his scrubs. His expression shifted to one of cold amusement. “Hard to say. If you mean the first time we slept together, that was a year ago on our wedding anniversary. Right there in my office. For as long as you kept calling my phone, we kept going.” A loud ringing exploded in my ears. My mind went completely blank. So that night, they had been together the entire time. No wonder I called him dozens of times and he never picked up, only texting back hours later saying he had just gotten out of surgery. I thought he was saving lives. I didn’t blame him. I even brought him late-night takeout. Not long after that, my younger sister, Chloe, was beaten so badly she miscarried after being caught sleeping with a married man. She called me for help. Worried about her reputation, I quietly paid off the angry wife and stayed by Chloe’s side in the hospital until she was discharged. It was exactly after her surgery that Roe’s attitude toward me turned freezing cold. He constantly used being “on-call” as an excuse to not come home for days. Our intimacy dropped from three times a week to me begging just to get his attention once. I thought the distance was just because we were both so busy with our careers. So, I gave up my chance to be promoted to regional manager. I became a stay-at-home wife, dedicating my life to taking care of him. People laughed at me for throwing away my career, but I did it willingly because I loved him. I thought if I just tried harder, our marriage would go back to how it used to be. I never imagined his heart had already been given to someone else—and that someone was my own sister. He had even murdered my deeply longed-for child just for her. I stared dead at Roe, my throat so raw I could barely make a sound. “I’m so sorry, Val!” My sister, Chloe, suddenly burst into the hospital room. With red, teary eyes, she threw herself at the side of my bed, intentionally pressing her hands down hard onto my fresh surgical wound through the blankets. “It’s all my fault! I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Roe immediately reached out to support her, his eyes softening to absolute tenderness. But when he looked at me, his gaze turned to pure ice. “Don’t blame her. She begged me to keep this a secret forever. I just couldn’t stand seeing her suffer in silence anymore. I want to give her a real future.” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart by bare hands. The pain made it impossible to breathe. With bloodshot eyes, I screamed. “What suffering?! I didn’t cause her miscarriage!” “You want to give her a future, so you personally murder our baby?!” The moment the words left my mouth, Roe’s eyes turned lethal. His voice dripped with mockery. “Valerie, why are you playing the victim? Three years ago, when my career was on the line, you left a divorce agreement on the table and vanished without a trace. I never blamed you for that, did I?” 2 I froze in place. Roe continued, his face devoid of emotion. “Back then, it was Chloe who went through hell to get that audio recording to prove my innocence. She was almost pushed off a balcony and killed for it. And when it was all over, it was Chloe who flew to Europe with me to help me recover mentally. You didn’t even ask if I was okay. So what victim are you pretending to be now?” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Memories from three years ago rushed back. Roe had been maliciously sued by a patient’s family, who claimed he intentionally let the patient die because they didn’t pay him a bribe. His reputation was destroyed, and he was facing prison time. To clear his name, I secretly tracked down the family. While arguing with them, I managed to secretly record them admitting they had fabricated the entire story. But as I tried to leave, they realized what I had done and pushed me down a flight of concrete stairs. I broke my leg and lost the baby I had just found out I was carrying. The doctors told me I might walk with a limp forever and that it would be incredibly difficult for me to ever get pregnant again. I didn’t want to drag Roe down, and I didn’t want him to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty because of what happened to me. So, I gave the flash drive with the recording to Chloe, asking her to hand it over to him. I also signed a divorce agreement, telling her to give it to him if things got too hard. Then, I quietly left the city to hide in a rehab clinic. During those two months of painful physical therapy, Roe never tried to contact me. I assumed he was buried in legal battles. It wasn’t until I finally healed and went home that I found out his name had been cleared weeks ago. He was just vacationing in Europe. I didn’t want to ruin his trip, so I chose to keep my injuries a secret. When he returned, he never brought it up. I thought the lawsuit had traumatized him so much that we were just silently agreeing to leave the past behind. But the truth was, while I was doing agonizing physical therapy just so I could walk back into his arms, Chloe had stolen the credit for saving his life. She stayed by his side day and night. And he—without ever even asking me for the truth—had started hating me to his core. I remembered the day we got married. He held my hands and said, “I will stand by you unconditionally for the rest of my life. I will always believe in you. No matter what happens, nothing will ever tear us apart.” The metallic taste of blood rose in my throat. I lifted my red-rimmed eyes to look at Chloe. “How was your miscarriage my fault? You were the one who slept with a married…” “Ugh!” Chloe suddenly let out a dramatic gag, cutting me off. Roe immediately tensed, holding her by the shoulders. “Are you feeling sick again?” Suddenly, I realized what was happening. “You’re pregnant?” Chloe immediately chimed in. “I’m sorry, Val. I’m carrying Roe’s baby…” Roe nodded without an ounce of shame. “Two months. Twins. I’m having Chloe move into the house so I can take care of her and the babies properly. That nursery you set up will be put to good use.” I had designed that nursery myself. Every piece of furniture, every stuffed animal, I had picked out by hand. I had fantasized countless times about the baby Roe and I would share. And now, I was watching him have children with my own sister. I practically coughed up blood. My voice was a broken rasp. “What about our baby? Roe, that was your own flesh and blood too!” Roe didn’t even blink. “That worthless mistake is already in the biohazard bin.” 3 Those cold words stabbed through my heart like rusted knives. I remembered all the times Roe had whispered in my ear, “Val, I want a baby with you so badly.” Yet he had murdered my child, just so he couldn’t wait to let Chloe carry his. An immense wave of grief and rage swallowed me whole. I grabbed the heavy glass vase from the nightstand and hurled it at them with everything I had. “Get out! Both of you, get the hell out!” As the vase shattered, Roe instinctively pulled Chloe into his arms to shield her from the glass. He turned his head to glare at me, his eyes piercingly cold. “If you can’t handle it, sign the divorce papers. Your parents are already pushing me to marry Chloe as soon as possible. They’ve even picked out names for the twins.” I suddenly remembered what he had said in the operating room: The people who hit you were your parents. So, my parents had known about their affair this entire time. The people I loved most in the world had all betrayed me. It was a pain so absolute, I couldn’t even force out a single tear. I screamed until my voice gave out, chasing them out of the room. I curled into a ball under the thin hospital blanket, shivering violently. The next day, my parents came to the hospital. My father’s tone was harsh and commanding. “What kind of older sister are you? Chloe has always been weaker than you since she was in the womb! Because of you, she lost a baby and almost had to get her uterus removed! Now that she finally has a chance at happiness with Roe, you refuse to divorce him? Are you trying to kill her again?” My mother wiped away fake tears. “They say twins have a telepathic connection, that they’re the closest people in the world. How can your heart be so vicious?” There was no wind in the hospital room, but a freezing chill seeped straight into my bones. I laughed. I laughed until tears finally streamed down my face. “Oh, so you remember we’re twins? I was born exactly three minutes before her! When we were kids, you forced me to let her have everything. Now you expect me to give her my husband too?” “But she is the younger sister! You can’t change that fact!” my mother raised her voice, acting indignant. “If you don’t divorce him, who are Chloe’s babies supposed to call Dad? Do you want her and her children to live in the shadows forever?” “So, you ran me over with your car? Just to clear the way for her? Why didn’t you just kill me?” The moment the words left my mouth, dead silence filled the room. There wasn’t a single trace of guilt on their faces—only annoyance. I clenched my teeth. “I will never sign those papers. I want her to live in the shadows forever. I want her kids to be known as illegitimate bastards!” Smack! My father slapped me hard across the face. “Ungrateful bitch! If I knew you were this toxic, I would have strangled you the minute you were born!” My cheek burned, but the pain in my chest was worse. Five years ago, when my father was hospitalized with liver cancer, I starved myself for a month to lose twenty pounds so I could donate a piece of my liver to save his life. I thought if I sacrificed enough, I could finally earn my parents’ love. But it was never enough. They always wanted more. They wanted to drain my blood and eat my flesh. Seeing I wasn’t backing down, my mother pretended she was going to faint, and my father raised his hand to hit me again. I looked at them one last time. My heart finally died. “Fine. I’ll sign it. I’ll go pack my things today, and from now on, you are no longer my parents.” If I couldn’t have it, I didn’t want any of it. I returned to the house I shared with Roe. As soon as I walked through the front door, I heard sickeningly explicit groans coming from the nursery. “Roe… what if Val catches us in here…” Roe’s voice was thick with lust. “Hold on tighter, baby… Let her find out. Whether she signs the papers or not, you are the only woman I will ever love.” A tidal wave of memories crashed over me. When we first met at the hospital, it was love at first sight for Roe. Known as the untouchable, elite surgeon, he acted like he was addicted to me. To win me over, he cooked and delivered meals to my office every day. The first thing he did after a fourteen-hour surgery was drive to see me. He dropped to one knee at a crowded concert to propose, begging me to stay by his side for the rest of his life. He made me believe in love. He made me think I was his only exception. Suddenly, a weak whimper pulled me back to reality. I followed the sound. It was my six-year-old golden retriever, Buster. He was lying on the floor, a massive pool of blood around his mouth. He was taking shallow, ragged breaths. “Buster…” I dropped to my knees to pick him up and rush him to the vet. But he just looked at me one last time, let out a soft sigh, and stopped breathing in my arms. He had been waiting for me. He waited until he saw me, and then he let go. My mind went completely blank. A soul-shredding agony ripped away the last of my sanity. I kicked the nursery door open. The two of them scrambled apart in panic. Before I could even step forward, Chloe acted as if I had terrified her. She deliberately threw herself backward onto the hardwood floor, letting out a piercing scream and clutching her stomach. “Roe! My stomach hurts so much! The babies… my babies!” Roe’s face went pale. “Don’t panic, I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” He spun around wildly, grabbing clothes off the floor. While his back was turned, Chloe suddenly stopped screaming. She looked at me and flashed a sinister, triumphant smile. “So what if I kicked your stupid dog to death, Val?” she whispered. “All it takes is one word from me, and your baby is dead. You really think you can beat me?” 4 Looking at that face that was nearly identical to my own, the blood rushed to my head. “You psychotic bitch!” I lunged forward, reaching out to wrap my hands around her throat. But before I could even touch her, Roe delivered a brutal kick right into my stomach. “Are you insane?! She’s bleeding and you’re still trying to kill her?! It was just a damn dog!” The dog wasn’t important. The babies were. And I wasn’t. The force of his kick was massive. I was essentially launched backward, crashing hard against the floor. The fresh surgical stitches on my stomach ripped open. Blood poured out, soaking my shirt. Roe looked down at the blood spreading across my stomach. For a fraction of a second, a flash of hesitation crossed his eyes. But then Chloe started screaming again. “Roe… it hurts so much…” “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you!” He didn’t look at me again. He scooped Chloe into his arms and bolted out the door. By the time he reached the front yard, a crowd of nosy neighbors had already gathered, whispering and holding up their phones to record. Roe didn’t slow down. He shoved through the crowd and carried her away. Through the blurry haze of pain, I saw Chloe peek over his shoulder, giving me one last victorious smirk. I tried to push myself off the floor, but a blinding wave of pain ripped through my abdomen. I collapsed and lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was tied to a bed in a beachfront vacation cabin. It was the property Roe had bought in my name, a place he used to bring me when he took time off work. But right now, I was hogtied on the mattress. Standing in front of me were three overweight men, covered in disgusting sores and pustules, staring at me like hungry wolves. In the corner of the room, a camera on a tripod was pointed directly at the bed. Realizing what was about to happen, my entire body began to violently shake. I looked toward the doorway, where Roe was standing, his face entirely devoid of emotion. “Roe, what the hell are you doing? No matter what happened, I am still your wife…” This was the man who swore he would support me unconditionally, who promised he would always be on my side. But when he opened his mouth, his voice was dripping with venom. “Valerie, not only did you cause Chloe to almost lose the babies, but you let the neighbors film the whole thing. Now it’s all over the internet. She’s getting cyberbullied. You don’t deserve to be her sister!” “Three years ago, after what you did to me, I never abandoned you! I even thought that if you refused to sign the divorce papers, I would just let it go. We could stay married, even if it was just on paper. But what did you do? Is this how you repay my mercy?” “These three men are patients I pulled from an infectious disease ward… Don’t worry, I won’t let them actually r*pe you. I’m just having them pose with you. We’ll take some photos and post them online. I want you to experience the exact same pain Chloe is feeling. I want you to know what it feels like to have your dignity dragged through the mud.” Seeing him turn to leave, I suddenly remembered something. A year ago, when Chloe was hospitalized for her miscarriage, a man came to visit her. That man was one of Roe’s colleagues from the surgical department! I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Chloe played you, Roe! A year ago, she didn’t get hit by a car! She was caught sleeping with a married man and the man’s wife beat the baby out of her! That man was your coworker! And three years ago, I didn’t abandon you, I—” “Shut up! You literally ran her over, and now you have the nerve to frame her?!” Roe looked at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You walked out on me when I needed you most, Valerie. You have no heart!” As I stared at him in sheer disbelief, he delivered the final, fatal blow. “By the way, I had your mother skin that dog of yours and boil it into a stew for Chloe. Dog meat is highly nutritious for pregnant women.” Boom. My brain completely shut down. Buster had been with me for six years. When Roe and Chloe were vacationing in Europe and I was home alone recovering from broken bones and a lost pregnancy, Buster was the only one who stayed by my side. I could see his little head resting on my knees. I could see every moment of the last five years I had spent with Roe. The pain was so excruciating it felt like I was being sliced alive. After Roe walked out the door, the three men lunged toward the bed. “All those stuck-up bitches think we’re disgusting… We haven’t had a taste of a real woman in years…” My scalp prickled with terror. “Roe told you to just take pictures!” “Yeah, well, your sister gave us different orders. She said if we’re gonna put on a show, we might as well make it real. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you enjoy it.” I shook violently, screaming for help, but Roe was already gone. Just as they ripped my shirt, my hand brushed against a heavy glass lamp on the nightstand. I grabbed it and smashed it directly into the face of the closest man. While the other two recoiled in shock, I scrambled off the bed, sprinted out of the room, and bolted out the front door. By the side of the road, Roe was opening the door to his SUV. Behind me, the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer. I opened my mouth to scream for Roe, but before I could make a sound, I saw Chloe lean out of the passenger side window. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed deeply. Despair crashed over me like a tidal wave. I thought of my murdered child. My dead dog. My parents who sold me out. And the man who had just died in my heart. I knew I couldn’t outrun those men. And honestly, I didn’t want to run anymore. Without a second of hesitation, I turned sharply and sprinted straight toward the jagged cliff edge. The roaring ocean crashed against the rocks below. I spread my arms and threw myself into the void. In the moment of freefall, I thought I heard Roe’s voice, screaming with a completely raw, desperate agony. “Valerie! No!”

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1 The men at the Institute took his money and cut out a piece of my brain. My frontal lobe. Now, I’m a puppet, devoid of emotion, existing only to obey. It all started when my sister’s assistant, Ryan, showed up with a forged paternity test, claiming I was an imposter. He wept, telling my family I’d used my position as the family heir to lord over him, that I’d broken his leg in a fit of rage. To make it up to him, they sent me to the Institute. When I got out, I just nodded and agreed to whatever they said. Ryan, disgusted, told me to jump in the pool and wash myself clean. I did. My parents pulled me from the bottom of the pool, their faces masks of horror. My sister, Sophia, accused me of putting on a show. She demanded I break my own leg as an apology. I turned and walked straight into oncoming traffic. She yanked me back, her hand trembling uncontrollably. Later, Ryan framed me again, claiming I’d drugged him and thrown him to a woman with an STD. Sophia slapped me, spitting that if he got sick, I was dead. I picked up a knife and aimed it at my heart. My parents froze in the doorway. Sophia grabbed my hand, her grip like a vice. She called me an idiot, asking why I did everything anyone told me to. I’m not an idiot. … The tip of the blade broke the skin, a sharp, wet sound piercing the silence. It was only millimeters from my heart, but I felt nothing. My hand moved to push it deeper. Sophia, her hands slick with my blood, wrenched the knife away. “Nolan! Are you insane?!” But my eyes didn’t even blink. Her shock was absolute. I wasn’t insane. They had performed a lobotomy on me. I had no emotions. I didn’t know what pain was. My mother’s eyes welled with tears. “Nolan, what are you doing?” My father, heartbroken, slapped me across the face, trying to knock some sense into me. “You animal! Your sister was kind enough to bring you home! Who are you trying to guilt-trip with this pathetic act?!” Only then did I stop. Without an order from my family, I didn’t dare continue. I just curled up on the floor. My docile state only seemed to infuriate Sophia more. “Nolan! Stop playing the fool who can’t understand a word! The Ashtons took you back, what more could you possibly want?!” I answered like a machine. “I want for nothing. My sister said I nearly got Ryan infected. I was carrying out my sister’s punishment.” Seven years of “re-education” had taught me that resistance was pointless. Obedience was survival. The slightest frown would earn me unspeakable torture at the Institute. A moment later, the world went black as I passed out from blood loss. At the hospital, the doctor who was supposed to be treating me was called away by Ryan, who was suddenly complaining that his old leg injury was acting up. A nurse just poured alcohol directly onto my open wound. The sting woke me, and the first thing I heard was Ryan’s voice, dripping with false sincerity. “Nolan, man, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come back and… taken your place. Don’t do this self-pity routine, please. It just makes the family hate me more.” “I haven’t seen you in seven years,” he continued, “but I’ve felt guilty every single day.” A lie. I remembered him clearly. He was the one who told the Institute to perform the surgery. Strange. Why wouldn’t he admit he’d visited me? Blood was still seeping from the gash in my chest. Just as my sister was about to call for a doctor for me, Ryan turned away, his face pale. My mother gasped. “Ryan’s faint at the sight of blood! Someone treat Nolan’s wound, quickly!” Before a doctor could even approach, I had already torn off my shirt, balled it up, and shoved it hard against the wound. At the Institute, when they beat me until I was a bruised mess, I often used my clothes as bandages. The infections nearly killed me a few times. Ryan sucked in a sharp breath. “Nolan, I’m sorry. It’s my fault the doctor left.” Sophia pushed down the flicker of pity she felt for me, her brow furrowed in a deep scowl. “Do you really need the victim to apologize to you?” she snapped. “Seven years of re-education, and the Institute didn’t teach you the price of your mistakes?” Of course they did. I dropped to my knees in front of Ryan, dragging my injured leg as I slammed my forehead against the floor. “Ryan, it’s all my fault! If you’re still not satisfied, I promise the next time I stab myself, I’ll finish the job!” Ryan sighed dramatically. “You lied to this family for seven years. Are you going to keep treating us like fools?” To make him believe me, I started stabbing myself again, each cut deep enough to show bone. For seven years, this was the only way I could earn a bowl of spoiled leftovers at the Institute. Covered in fresh blood, I offered a placating smile. “Do you believe me now, Ryan?” Sophia’s voice was sharp as glass. “You’re disgusting!” “The party is about to start. Stop embarrassing the Ashton family!” As they left, Ryan leaned in close, his eyes glinting. “Nolan,” he whispered, “if you want us to believe you, get on your knees and wash my feet. In front of everyone at the party tonight. Then we’ll know you’re not acting.” I nodded forcefully. After a quick, messy bandaging job, I made my way to the Ashton’s grand ballroom. My mother flinched at the sight of me, wrapped head to toe in gauze. “Nolan, you should be in the hospital! What are you doing here?” Ignoring the confused stares of the guests, I walked directly to Ryan and knelt at his feet. Ignoring the fire in my own wounds, I began to remove his leather shoes to wash his feet. Ryan “accidentally” ground his heel into an open cut on my foot. When my hand trembled, spilling the basin of water, his face twisted from a smirk to a mask of feigned terror. “Nolan! You… you burned me with hot water!” The scalding water had drenched my clothes and skin, but I ignored the searing pain and kept my head bowed to the floor. “I’m sorry, brother.” The guests around us turned pale at the sight of my bloody, mangled wounds. Sophia, however, rushed to his side, cradling the foot that had been splashed. “Ryan, are you okay?” He winced. “Sophia, he’s just trying to drive me away! I… I should just leave the Ashton family for good…” He stood to leave, ignoring Sophia’s protests as she hurried after him. But a friend of the family, a neuroscientist, grabbed her arm, his expression grave. “Sophia, wait. Look at Nolan. Something’s not right with him…” She shot an irritated glance back at me. The skin scalded by the water was already peeling away as I scrubbed at the floor. Blood soaked through the bandages on my torso, but I seemed completely unaware, focused only on cleaning the spill. They didn’t know that at the Institute, a single drop of blood left on the floor meant a thousand times more punishment. “It’s like he doesn’t feel pain anymore,” the doctor said, his voice low. “He’s just a machine executing commands. A normal person wouldn’t mutilate themselves just to follow an order. Sophia, there’s something seriously wrong with his brain!” “That’s impossible,” she murmured, but she hesitated. My father, embarrassed by the scene, scowled. “I doubt it. Making a scene at an event like this… If he’s so committed to the act, why doesn’t he just kill himself?” Without a second thought, I agreed. I grabbed a steak knife from a nearby table and plunged it toward my heart. The doctor moved like lightning, catching my wrist. “Stop!” I obediently froze. Crash. Sophia’s wine glass shattered on the marble floor. My father stood paralyzed. My mother’s eyes filled with tears again. “That boy… could something have really happened to him at the Institute? Even if he’s not our blood, we raised him for so many years…” Strange. I thought they hated me. Why did they seem so afraid of losing me? My mother stared at my wounds, at a loss. My father’s gaze was a mixture of irritation and scrutiny. After a moment, seeing I wasn’t dead, Sophia’s anger returned. She ordered the butler, “Get him out of here. I don’t want Ryan to see him and get upset!” They tied me up in the garden. No one dared to bring me food. For three days, I drank from the sprinkler hose to survive. I slept curled in a pile of dead leaves. Ryan would cruise by in the Maybach, whistling at me like a dog. I’d smile back instinctively, and he’d sneer with open contempt. “Pathetic.” Was I? I didn’t think so. Compared to the seven years of endless darkness and oppression, sleeping here was paradise. One day, Ryan had the driver stop the car. He held out his wrist to me. “Look at you, Nolan. A pathetic stray. What’s the difference between you and a dog?” I gave my customary, agreeable smile. He patted my head. “Good dog. Now, be a good boy and bite me.” I bared my teeth and bit down. The next second, a sharp slap sent my head ringing. Sophia had arrived. “Have you completely lost your mind? When did you learn to bite people like an animal?” I didn’t argue. I just smiled, like a dog. Ryan scrambled behind his sister, feigning terror. “Sophia, look at him! He’s smiling at me! It’s terrifying!” Sophia’s face was a mask of ice. She ordered the bodyguards to take me to a psychiatric hospital. “I think you’ve really lost your mind. Go in there and get it treated!” I memorized her words. That night, I swallowed an entire bottle of powerful sedatives. By the time the night nurse noticed something was wrong, my bed was soaked in the black blood I had vomited. The first thing I saw when I regained consciousness was my mother, sobbing uncontrollably as she gently stroked my hair. “How did my Nolan become like this? He wasn’t… he wasn’t like this before…” She was right. The boy I used to be—bright, dazzling, proud—was dead. He died the day he was thrown into the Institute. A flicker of pity crossed my father’s face, but his words were still sharp. “He’s not our biological son, after all. Bad genes. He’s probably resentful now that he knows the truth, trying to use us, to harm us…” I wanted to say, No, I would never hurt you. But the oxygen tube in my throat silenced me. Ryan’s choked voice reached my ears. “Mom, Dad… if Nolan wakes up and really holds a grudge against me… I don’t think it will be just my leg he breaks this time.” Sophia let out a soft sigh, then made a promise to soothe him. “I’ll pay the hospital ten times their usual fee to… delay Nolan’s medication.” “It would be better… if he just died here.” I suddenly understood what my family wanted. The moment I regained a sliver of strength, I used all of it to rip the tube from my throat. My heart rate and blood pressure monitors screamed. The blaring alarm drained the color from Sophia’s face. She yelled instinctively. “Doctor! Help my brother! Please!” Ryan’s smile vanished, his eyes flashing with jealousy. The doctor who saved me clutched his chest, catching his breath. “A few more seconds and he would have been gone! What kind of family are you, leaving him unattended like this?!” My parents and Sophia stared, speechless, before stammering apologies. Lying on the edge of death, I was utterly confused. Didn’t they want me to die? Why did they save me when I was so close? Ryan’s voice cracked with rage. “Nolan, are you done with your act? It looks like seven years did nothing to fix you!” “I’m going to have Mom and Dad send you back to the Institute!” I listened quietly, my face a blank slate. But unexpectedly, Sophia hesitated, a frown creasing her brow. “Send him back… What if something happens?” My parents fell silent, thinking. After all, when they’d brought me home, I was twenty pounds lighter, covered in bruises, a ghost of my former self. Ryan turned to me. “Nolan, answer me. Are you willing to go back to the Institute to continue your re-education?” I nodded obediently. “Yes. Thank you, Ryan.” A short while later, as Ryan was handling my discharge papers, he gave me a cruel smile. “You’re going back there to die, Nolan.” I had no complaints. I just followed him. He ordered me to get into the driver’s seat of the car. “Get in, start the car, and step on the gas. Aim for me.” I nodded, confused, and was just about to press the accelerator when the Ashton’s Maybach screeched to a halt, cutting me off. A bodyguard ripped my door open and dragged me out. “Nolan! Have you had enough?!” My sister was trembling with rage. “You tried to run Ryan down!” My mother stared at me, her eyes filled with a profound disappointment, before turning to comfort Ryan through her tears. “Ryan, you’ve suffered so much. From this moment on, the Ashton family will show him no more mercy!” I knew I had made them angry again. And mistakes have consequences. I slammed my head against the car. I heard the crack of my frontal bone as it fractured. Ryan’s eyes widened in fake shock. “The more you play the victim, Nolan, the more you must hate me in your heart!” I said nothing, despite the splitting pain in my head. They didn’t like it when I talked back. Seven years ago, it was for refuting Ryan’s lies that they threw me into the Institute, where they performed the surgery that made me so obedient. I was all better now. I would do anything they said. I hoped that would make them happy. “No-lan Ash-ton!” It was the second time my sister had said my name with such chilling coldness. “Hasn’t this family been good to you? You enjoyed twenty years of luxury that belonged to Ryan! Bringing you home was the biggest mistake of my life! You almost got him killed!” My father shoved my fractured head against the pavement, grinding it into the asphalt. “You ungrateful beast! We should have let you die in the hospital!” I coughed up blood and struggled to my feet. I knew they hadn’t forgiven me. I prepared to slam my head against the car again to atone. If I hit it harder this time, hard enough to shatter my skull, surely they would calm down? My mother screamed, a wild, desperate sound. “Enough! Stop torturing yourself…” My father ordered the bodyguards, “Throw him in the Institute. And you, Nolan, you’d better die quickly. Don’t keep Ryan from living his life!” My family watched as the bodyguards tossed me into the trunk like a bag of trash. They were only concerned with taking Ryan back to the hospital for a full check-up. I was back in the familiar place. A bodyguard flicked a lit cigarette into a nearby trash can. “Stay put!” I curled up obediently in a corner, unmoving even as I watched the cigarette ignite the trash, the flames catching on the curtains. As the fire roared toward me, a wall of infernal heat, I calmly closed my eyes and waited to die. I just wanted to ask: I’ve been so good. Once I’m really dead, can I come home? At the hospital, the family breathed a collective sigh of relief as they reviewed Ryan’s perfectly normal test results. My father’s voice was ice when he heard the bodyguard’s report. “Nolan loves his little life-and-death dramas, doesn’t he? Fine. Let him stay there and rot. If anyone in this family so much as mentions his name again, they can get out!” But the neuroscientist frowned. He pulled a file from his desk drawer—the surgical report for my frontal lobotomy. “Ms. Ashton, Nolan isn’t acting. His behavior is the result of a severe brain injury.” Sophia was dismissive. “We all know he’s got something wrong in his head!” “This is different!” The doctor slammed the report on the table. The words “Successful Excision” made a sudden, sickening premonition rise in my mother’s chest. She fought to keep her voice steady. “A frontal lobotomy… what does that mean?” The doctor’s expression was grim. “It means the part of Nolan’s brain that controls impulse, emotion, and resistance has been surgically removed! He has no feelings, no ability to refuse an order. He will do anything to please, to obey a command, even if that command will lead to his own death!” “The Institute he was in for seven years is a notorious black site for abuse! They arranged the surgery through a private clinic! And this,” he said, pointing to the bottom of the page, “is the signature of the family representative who authorized it. Ryan.” Seeing Ryan’s name on the form, their world exploded. At the same time, the doctor produced another document: the real paternity test. “I found the original in the archives. There’s something you’ve been wrong about for seven years.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “441007”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel