Category: English

Ten years after I left the real world, the System found me again. It said that the original female protagonist, who had been sent to the past, failed to save my husband and child, and now all the major villains had gone rogue. It told me to go back and clean up the mess. Before I could answer, I saw the live comments. [Is this the “White Moonlight” big sis? She doesn’t look like much.] [Even Little Sis, so bright and kind, pouring her heart out, couldn’t warm the hearts of that villainous father and son. Clearly, some evil is just born in their bones, unworthy of redemption.] [Bad seed, bad crop. What kind of respectable person could raise such an obnoxious brat?] [Birds of a feather, flock together. The villainous father and son, along with this White Moonlight sis and her whole family, should all hold hands and drop dead, okay?] 1 Ten years ago, when I died from complications during childbirth, my body had already given up. To make it easier for me to re-engage with the story, the System gave me a new identity: Luke Asher’s homeroom teacher. I dutifully worked for a few days, but I never once saw Luke Asher in class. An older, more experienced teacher advised me: “That child, it’s best to just leave him alone. His family is powerful and influential; he’s beyond the scope of us working stiffs.” I subtly inquired about Luke Asher’s situation. “A typical problem child. Bad-tempered, rude, never speaks, always scowling. His grades are terrible, and he bullies other students. Previous teachers tried to discipline him, but his family made one phone call and the teacher was immediately fired. With such unreasonable parents, there’s nothing we teachers can do.” I fell silent. Seven years. I never thought Mark Asher would raise our child like this. I flipped through the student files left by the previous homeroom teacher. I found Mark Asher’s number and dialed it. After a long wait, a distinguished yet indifferent voice answered. “Who is this?” My heart fluttered. I took a deep breath, trying to sound as calm as possible: “Mr. Asher, hello. I’m Luke Asher’s new homeroom teacher. Luke hasn’t been to school for several days. Is there any particular reason?” Mark Asher’s voice remained flat. “Luke Asher hasn’t gone to school? He’s probably just in a bad mood again. Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to contact me for such trivial matters in the future.” With that, he hung up without giving me time to react. I stared blankly at the dial tone. An inexplicable anger flared in my chest. Such a permissive, hands-off attitude. No wonder Luke Asher had developed so many issues. 2 After work, I went directly to Luke Asher’s home, under the guise of a home visit. As soon as I entered the living room, I heard the intense sounds of a video game battle, accompanied by angry curses. “Idiot teammate, put a hotdog on your phone, even a dog would play better than you. You brain-dead moron, you play like garbage.” The childish voice, coupled with vulgar profanity, was extremely jarring. [That little bastard is so ill-mannered, such a foul mouth at such a young age.] [Seeing this kind of brat just makes me want to whip him with a belt. Born of a mother, raised by no one.] A pang of pain shot through my heart. I walked up to Luke Asher, not rushing to interrupt his game. Instead, I waited until he finished a round before speaking. “Luke Asher, I’m your new homeroom teacher. My name is Yu, you can call me Miss Yu.” My gaze lingered greedily on his young face. Luke Asher’s facial contours were somewhat like mine, soft and smooth. His features, however, were a miniature version of Mark Asher’s. Sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, a prominent nose. He clearly looked like a charming, adorable child. Yet, there was an undeniable streak of aggression in his eyes. Upon hearing that I was his new homeroom teacher, a flicker of impatience crossed Luke Asher’s face. “Homeroom teacher, what are you doing at my house? Didn’t anyone tell you not to bother me?” He puffed out his chest. “My dad donates five to six million to the school every year. Your salary comes from him, so what right do you have to tell me what to do?” [So young and already knows how to bully others with power. No wonder he’ll grow up to be a degenerate, indulging in all sorts of vices.] [In the ending, this little brat breaks the law and gets locked up for ten years. Serves him right.] Hmph. “First, my salary is paid by the government. Your dad’s donations have nothing to do with me. And—” I reached out, unexpectedly taking Luke Asher’s phone. I glanced at his game rank. Gold. I couldn’t help but click my tongue. Skipping school for Gold rank? Pathetic. He should at least get to Challenger first! “Give me back my phone!” Luke Asher stood on tiptoes, trying to snatch his phone back. He looked so huffy, wanting to grab it but too short to reach. Adorably exasperating. I couldn’t resist pinching the baby fat on Luke Asher’s cheek. He quickly snatched his phone back, glaring at me. “My old nanny said that interest is the best teacher. The most important thing in education is happiness. My family is so rich, I can confidently do anything I want.” Luke Asher’s former nanny was the female protagonist of this book. By rights, she should have, with her sunny disposition, warmed the hearts of the Asher father and son, and redeemed them. But clearly, she had failed. Luke Asher had become this spoiled and willful. I lazily pulled out my own phone. “Want to play a solo game?” Luke Asher didn’t react for a moment, surprised. “Huh? With me? You play games, teacher?” He looked so dumbfounded, quite cute. “Yep.” I opened the game. 3 In just one hour, Luke Asher was utterly obliterated by me thirty times. By the end, his eyes were red, his mouth downturned. He looked like he was desperately trying not to cry. “Still want to play?” I yawned. “I’m not playing with you anymore.” Luke Asher turned his head away, sulking. “You’re an adult, bullying a kid like me, what kind of skill is that? I’m never playing with you again!” “Really?” I said calmly, “Type ‘1’ if you want me to carry you to Challenger. Guaranteed carry.” Luke Asher immediately turned his head, looking at me with starry eyes. “…” I couldn’t help but be amused by him. “Just one thing. I have a really foul mouth. When I play games, I love to curse. Like what you were just saying, tsk.” I stared at Luke Asher, impassively repeating his earlier words: “Idiot teammate, put a hotdog on your phone, even a dog would play better than you. You brain-dead moron, you play like garbage.” Luke Asher’s face instantly flushed crimson. I smiled. “Doesn’t feel good to be cursed at, does it?” Luke Asher lowered his head, stammering, “I… I know. I’m sorry, Miss Yu. I won’t curse casually anymore.” Teachable. It seemed this child wasn’t as bad as the live comments claimed. I patted his head with satisfaction. Luke Asher looked up, a little puzzled. “Oh, right, Miss Yu. Weren’t you here to convince me to go to school?” Why had we suddenly started playing games? “Hm? Did I say that?” I blinked at Luke Asher. “But since you brought it up yourself, it means you know not going to school is wrong. In that case, pack your things and come to class tomorrow.” With that, I got up and left without a second thought. Before leaving, I waved at him. “See you tomorrow. I’ll carry you to Challenger then.” 4 The next day, I indeed saw Luke Asher in class. He sat in the back corner of the classroom, coldly scowling out the window, not interacting with anyone. During break, students chatted and played. He scoffed dismissively. Turning his head, he ignored everyone. Little rascal, quite proud. After I finished the lesson, I handed out a short pop quiz. I wanted to test the students’ understanding of the material. The moment he received the quiz, Luke Asher’s brows furrowed. His small face crinkled up. After glancing at it a few more times, perhaps out of spite, Luke Asher crumpled the quiz paper into a ball and threw it into his desk. Then he slumped onto the desk and began to nap. However, the restless twitching of his fingertips revealed… Luke Asher wasn’t actually asleep. [This little idiot probably can’t even understand the questions.] [He’s scored 0 so many times. Hilarious, getting 0 in third grade. Seriously, underdeveloped cerebellum, completely undeveloped brain.] [Both bad and stupid, a pure waste.] As soon as the bell rang for the end of class, Luke Asher rushed out of the classroom without looking back. “Luke Asher.” I called out to him. “Don’t leave yet, I need to talk to you.” Luke Asher’s body stiffened, and he reluctantly walked over. The other children bolted out of the classroom like arrows. A few even made faces as they passed him. “Luke Asher is being kept behind again~” His expression grew increasingly sour. His hands clenched into tight fists, glaring angrily at them. [Whoa, hyperactive aggression kicking in? Wants to hit someone again?] [What kind of look is that from the little brat, it’s really annoying to see.] I gave those grimacing students a cold glance. “If you don’t want to go home, stay and clean. I asked Luke Asher to stay because I need his help. Not to scold him.” Children’s malice is straightforward and sharp. From observing him all day, I had already noticed that Luke Asher wasn’t very popular in class. He didn’t initiate conversations with anyone. Other students also kept their distance from him. Although these classmates hadn’t been overtly malicious, a child’s heart is the most sensitive. They can pick up on the most subtle mockery and ridicule. I didn’t want them to deepen their negative impression of Luke Asher, nor did I want Luke Asher to feel sad because of it. So, it was necessary to clarify. The students listened, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry, Miss Yu, we didn’t mean it.” Luke Asher’s lips almost curved upwards, but catching my gaze, he quickly turned his head away dismissively, putting on a cool facade. …Childish. After everyone had left, Luke Asher hesitantly approached me. He spoke curtly, “What do you need me for?” I pulled out my phone. “Our promise to get you to Challenger, did you forget?” Luke Asher looked up at me, surprised. “You kept me back for this?” “Why else?” I naturally opened the game. “Less dawdling.” After two or three games, Luke Asher was distracted. His already poor gaming skills worsened, feeding the opposing team kills in every match. Seeing that the game was unplayable, I pouted. “What’s going on? You’re in such bad form today?” Luke Asher lowered his head dejectedly, instinctively twisting the hem of his shirt. His voice was low: “I thought you kept me back to ask me why I handed in a blank quiz…” “Oh, right. So why did you hand in a blank quiz?” Luke Asher’s face turned crimson. He turned his head away in embarrassment. “I… I couldn’t do it. I don’t recognize any of those concepts…” His round eyes misted over. “Miss Yu, do you also think I’m especially stupid?” Luke Asher sniffled. “My old nanny used to say, being stupid isn’t scary. As long as you work hard, even a slow bird can fly first. But I’ve worked so hard, and I still always come in last in tests…” I couldn’t help but retort: “What have you worked hard on? Working hard at ranked games? I looked at your old attendance records; you only came to school once or twice a semester. With that kind of diligence, who else would be last? For you to be last, that’s exactly what should happen. If you could still be at the top like that, then you’d be a reincarnated prodigy.” Luke Asher’s face flushed bright red. After a while, he hesitantly asked: “So, so that means I’m not stupid, right? I just don’t try hard enough to study. If I really put my mind to it, I’d definitely be better than all of them.” “No, I didn’t say that either,” I interrupted gently. “Given your current study habits, I can’t tell anything. Maybe you really are stupid, or maybe you’re a hidden genius. But whether you’re stupid or a genius, if you’re my student, you need to attend class properly. From today on, you’ll stay two extra hours after school every day. I’ll tutor you from scratch. By the next pop quiz, I hope you won’t hand in a blank paper.” Luke Asher clenched his fists and nodded. “Understood, Miss Yu.” [How come White Moonlight sis seems to be teaching really well? She’s not putting the student down, nor is she just blindly praising him, but being realistic.] [Of course, this is her own son, how could she not care? But the little villain’s nature is like mud, he’ll never be able to stand on his own two feet. Just wait and see.]

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When my stepmom moved out, she only took two things with her: me, and the kitchen trash. That’s when I found out she wasn’t just some trophy wife. She was the daughter of the wealthiest man in the city. And just like that, I went from a trailer-park brat to the granddaughter of a billionaire. 1 Today is a day for celebration. My stepmom just served my dad with a lawsuit. Why? Because she’s suing for full custody of me. They finalized their divorce two weeks ago. When she moved out, she didn’t take a single piece of furniture, not even a lamp. I’d tried to convince her to go after the house. I mean, they were married for years—she deserved something for her service. She just shot me a look, snorting, “Is there anything in that dump actually worth moving?” I was speechless. She was right. For the last two years, if she hadn’t been paying the bills, my dad would have gambled away the roof over our heads. The house wasn’t filled with valuables; it was filled with “investment stones”—expensive rocks my dad bought thinking they held hidden emeralds. Some were half-cut, some were whole. Every single one was a worthless piece of granite. To be fair, my dad used to be okay. Before the gambling took over. But now? Now I was motherless again. On the day she left, I sat on the porch, sighing. She didn’t have any luggage, just her designer handbag. She looked radiant, radiating an old-money elegance I’d never seen before. “Bye, Mom,” I muttered, head down. She snapped her sunglasses off. “What do you mean ‘bye’? You’re coming with me.” I froze. “I am?” She gave me a playful kick and grabbed the trash bag on her way out. “Goddammit, you’re the only thing in this house worth a damn. Who else would I take? Forget the junk. Let’s go. Don’t make me ask twice.” My heart soared. I grabbed her arm, grinning like an idiot. Best deal ever: Dad and Mom get divorced, and Mom takes me. 2 She drove me straight to The Highlands—the most exclusive gated community in the state. I tugged at her sleeve. “Mom, we can’t afford to look at houses here. Let’s go before security kicks us out.” She just smirked. “This is home.” This mansion was hers?! I found out pretty quickly it wasn’t just the house. Her family built the entire neighborhood. As we pulled up, an older man in a crisp suit spotted us and shouted, “The Young Mistress is back!” A dozen security guards lined up along the driveway, bowing in unison. “Welcome home! Welcome home, Little Miss!” Little Miss? What kind of Victorian novel had I walked into? Before I could process it, an old man with a silver-topped cane walked toward us, eyeing me up and down. My heart nearly stopped. I knew that face. He was all over the news—Arthur Miller, the legendary venture capitalist. The richest man in the tri-state area. The old man huffed and pointed at me. “You. Come here.” My stepmom gave me a firm nudge. “He’s talking to you.” I walked over, trembling. I didn’t know what to call him. After a long silence, I managed to squeak out, “Grandpa…?” To my shock, the old man burst into a booming laugh. “Hahaha! This girl’s got instincts! I like her!” “My dear granddaughter, say it again, and I’ll buy you a private jet.” Suddenly, it clicked. Arthur Miller was my stepmom’s father. Holy crap. I was the granddaughter of a billionaire. My eyes lit up. I channeled every bit of energy I had and yelled, “Grandpa! Grandpa!” The old man couldn’t stop grinning. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me inside. “Good girl! We’re buying you that jet!” I thought he was joking. But the next morning, I woke up to see a massive plane parked on the back lawn. A hot pink private jet. I watched, stunned, as someone walked down the stairs. A tall, handsome guy with charming eyes looked at me and smiled. “You must be Mia?” I nodded slowly. He chuckled and ruffled my hair. “Hey there. I’m the brother you never knew you had.” 3 I never knew my stepmom had a son, and an older one at that. His name was Leo Sterling. My stepmom’s maiden name was Miller, but his was Sterling. Wait… was she married before my dad? Did she have another family? I felt a sudden sting of betrayal. I really loved my stepmom. She was beautiful. When my dad first brought her home, I thought he’d hit the lottery. She was in her early forties, but she looked like she was twenty. When they got married, she told me she’d treat me like her own daughter. That I’d be her only child. But now, this guy appears out of nowhere? My heart sank. “What’s up, Leo? You bothering your sister already?” My stepmom walked down the stairs. Seeing my expression, she pulled me to her side. Leo looked innocent. “No way. Grandpa told me to show her the jet, so I flew it over.” “Oh, the jet. Come on, sweetie, let’s take your new toy for a spin.” She dragged me onto the plane, but I was still pouting. She felt my forehead. “What’s wrong, honey? Don’t you like pink? You look miserable.” “It’s fine…” I mumbled. “You lied to me.” “Liar?” She looked surprised. “What did I do?” “You said… you said I was your only daughter.” She blinked, then let out a roar. “LEO! What kind of crap did you tell her?!” Leo held up his hands. “Nothing! I swear, Auntie, I didn’t say anything.” “Auntie?” I gasped. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s my sister’s kid. He’s your cousin, but you can just call him your brother if you want.” The weight lifted instantly. “I thought he was yours…” I whispered. She tapped me on the head. “Raising one little piglet like you is enough work for me.” That was all I needed to hear. I flopped back into the leather seat and enjoyed the ride in my pink jet. 4 They say money changes people. They’re right. I wasn’t just changed; I was borderline obnoxious. My stepmom was rich. My grandpa was rich. Therefore, I was rich. Grandpa gave me a black card. He didn’t tell me the limit; he just said it was for “pocket money.” My stepmom was heading out for tea with her friends. “If Grandpa gives you a card, keep it. If you run out, ask me. Also, the garage is full of cars. If you don’t want the chauffeur to drive you, just pick one.” I bolted for the garage. It was a sea of chrome and carbon fiber. Ferraris, SUVs, vintage muscle cars… I picked the smallest, cutest thing in there—a tiny, egg-shaped gray car. It looked like a high-tech toy. “You’ll do,” I whispered. 5 Driving that car was an experience. People were staring, and other cars were practically swerving to give me space. I was feeling myself—until I pulled into the valet at the luxury mall and slammed right into the back of another car. I winced and climbed out. The owner of the other car jumped out, screaming, “Which idiot hit me?! Do you have any idea what this car costs—” He stopped dead when he saw my car. His eyes nearly popped out. “A… a Microlino?” Is that what this thing was called? “I’m so sorry,” I said. “We can go through insurance or I can just pay you cash. Whatever you want.” “Pay? You think you can afford this? Do you know what I’m driving? You bring a bubble car to the luxury mall and—” He couldn’t even find the words. He was turning purple. “Stupid?” I offered. “Yes! Incredibly stupid!” “Clueless?” “Beyond clueless!” “Dumbass?” “Dumb—hey!” The guy was tall and handsome, but he was currently throwing a tantrum. “Are you making fun of me?” Probably because you look like a rich, handsome moron. I stayed sincere. “Let me make a phone call.” He got defensive. “What, calling for backup? I’m telling you, that won’t work.” Backup? No. I was calling in a strike from my bank account. 6 I called my stepmom first. The background noise was weird—a lot of clicking and clacking. When I told her I was in a wreck, she shrieked. “A wreck?! Are you okay? Are you bleeding?” “I’m fine. The car isn’t.” “You totaled the bubble car?” “No,” I said sheepishly. “I totaled the other guy’s car. I broke the little toy on his hood… wait, let me send you a video.” I snapped a clip of the damage. She texted back two words: “Holy Shit.” “Mia, out of all the cars in the garage, you picked the custom electric prototype. And that ‘little toy’? That’s the Spirit of Ecstasy on a Rolls-Royce.” A Rolls-Royce? This tacky-looking thing was a Rolls? My knees went weak. I texted back: If you sell me into slavery, will it cover the bill? She didn’t reply for a minute. The guy was hovering over me like a ghost. I couldn’t take the silence, so I asked for his business card. Quinn Parker. Quinn sat down on the curb, looking up at me. “Call your family. We need to figure out how you’re paying for this.” “I’m paying, I’m paying!” I stammered. Finally, my stepmom texted: I sent your brother. Then, like a god descending from Olympus, a black and white Ducati roared into the parking lot. Leo pulled a sharp turn, stopped, and tried to pull off his helmet with a cool flourish— But it got stuck. 7 Even through the visor, I knew Leo was dying of embarrassment. A second later, he finally yanked it off, acting like nothing happened. “Sorry I’m late.” “It’s—” Before I could finish, Quinn jumped up from the curb. “No worries! You’re right on time! Bro, don’t stand in the sun, come over here in the shade.” The speed of this guy’s personality flip was breathtaking. I couldn’t help it. “Hey! You weren’t this nice to me!” He glared at me. “So? Look at your brother. Pure class. Look at his gear—that’s custom. Look at the bike… Bro, can I touch the bike?” Leo waved a hand. “Go ahead.” Quinn’s eyes sparkled. He practically hugged the Ducati. “Wow… titanium valves? The aerodynamics on this cowl… ah~ The smell of freedom!” Right there in front of the Gucci store, the two of them started debating the merits of a Kawasaki vs. a Yamaha. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but I saw red and blue lights flashing in the distance. “Hey…” “HEY!” Quinn snapped at me. “What?!” “I don’t want to ruin the vibe, but the cops are here.” Quinn shrugged. “So? Let them handle the report.” “Right,” I said. “One problem. My ID says I’m seventeen.” Quinn: “?” Leo: “…?!!”

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The accident cost my daughter and me our memories. The cost to my wife, a licensed therapist, was apparently irrelevant, as she immediately prioritized an international healing journey with her depressed high school crush and his daughter. When our memories finally returned, she was surprised to find us quiet, cooperative, and incredibly independent. We no longer cried out for her attention, no longer needed her exhausting, forced comfort. At first, she was pleased, convinced she had managed to perfectly balance her professional duty and family life. That illusion shattered on New Year’s Eve, when she came home early and paused outside the door, listening to my conversation with our daughter. “Daddy, is that woman really my mom? Every time I call her that, it just feels weird.” I nodded. “I feel the same way. She doesn’t seem like my type at all. How did I even end up marrying her?” My daughter’s voice grew conspiratorial. “Daddy, your type is Ms. Simon, right? Every time she sees you after school, her ears turn bright red, and she always finds an excuse to drive us home… I think you have a shot!” My face was heating up, but before I could answer, my daughter leaned in close, offering a suggestion in a volume she clearly thought was a whisper—but was loud enough for anyone outside to hear: “Daddy, maybe… we should just get a new mom?” 1. Dinner was an intense affair. I’d ordered two platters of insane hot wings, and my daughter and I were sweating, our faces smeared with red grease, happily demolishing the feast. A voice, familiar yet somehow estranged, cut through the noise behind us. “You didn’t wait for me?” We both flinched. Turning around, we saw a beautiful woman standing in the doorway, radiating a chill that had nothing to do with the winter air. Her eyes were similar to Zoe’s. It was Caroline Jennings. My wife. My daughter’s mother. She walked closer, her gaze immediately landing on our sticky faces and the carnage of chicken bones. Her perfect brows furrowed. “Six years, Noah. You know I have a stomach condition. I can’t eat spicy food.” Zoe, still sucking the last bit of flavor off a bone, spoke without thinking. “We didn’t order any for you. This is for us.” Cara froze. I offered a weak, forced laugh and scrambled to cover the awkward silence. “Well, uh… I saw a photo on your feed. You and Garrett and Ruby were at the amusement park. I figured you’d have dinner there…” “Noah Miller.” She cut me off, her tone the usual blend of cool impatience and patronizing correction. “I’ve explained this. Garrett and Ruby Price were abandoned by his wife, and he’s battling severe, treatment-resistant depression. I am a doctor. I am fulfilling my professional duty.” She took a slow, deliberate breath, her voice turning heavy with accusation. “And what about you? As a husband and father, you didn’t just make a scene at my workplace, you taught Zoe to be manipulative and jealous.” She paused for effect. “And then you caused a car crash. Hasn’t any of that made either of you stop and think about your actions?” A tide of memories crashed over me. I remembered the moment I discovered her continuous, day-and-night ‘professional care’ was actually for her high school crush, Garrett. I’d taken Zoe and shown up at his apartment, convinced I was catching them. Cara had just pulled us aside, her expression one of weary resignation. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d overreact. I am a doctor. To abandon my patients now would be unprofessional and irresponsible.” She’d looked down her nose at us. “Don’t you dare bring my daughter here and act hysterically in front of my patients.” Her cool, measured tone made Zoe and me feel like two hysterical fools. In a fit of desperate rage, I hired someone to hang a giant banner outside her hospital: GARRETT PRICE IS SEDUCING MY WIFE. Zoe, armed with a tiny megaphone, had chased Ruby Price around the preschool playground, yelling, “She’s a mistress’s daughter! Don’t play with her!” Eventually, Garrett and Ruby were threatening self-harm. Cara, to force us into submission, got me fired and ensured Zoe was ostracized at school. I completely broke down and threatened divorce. Only then did she finally concede, promising to keep her distance from the Prices. Zoe and I believed her. We had even booked a long-anticipated trip for our fifth anniversary, counting the days until her rare vacation. We went to the hospital, elated, to pick her up. Instead, all we got was a chilling phone call. “Emergency consultation. The trip is postponed.” Dumbfounded, we left the hospital. But as we turned the corner, we clearly heard her colleagues chatting, laced with knowing amusement: “Dr. Jennings is so committed to Mr. Price. She’s taken a half-year sabbatical to accompany them on their recovery journey!” “I know. I heard she’s already on her way to the airport. A specialized escort, apparently.” My ears started ringing. My heart felt like a piece had been surgically removed. Before the tears could fall, I looked down at Zoe’s pale face. Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her voice trembled. “Daddy… does Mommy really not want us anymore?” That single question shattered my remaining sanity. I immediately grabbed Zoe’s hand and ran, chasing after Cara’s car. We needed an answer! We needed to know if she still wanted this family! We never caught up. We crashed instead. Waking up, the world was a blank slate. We didn’t remember her, only each other. And she, in turn, had conveniently put us on a shelf. My memory snapped back to the present. Zoe and I exchanged an awkward glance. The memory had returned, but the love hadn’t. In fact, I couldn’t understand why we’d ever been that hysterical. I quickly assured Cara that we truly wouldn’t interfere again. Cara’s expression darkened further. After a long moment, she regained her usual air of control. “Tomorrow, I’m taking them to Redwood Park for a therapy session. Make sure you pack three identical lunches.” She looked at Zoe. “Zoe, make sure you put together an extra set of your class notes for Ruby.” She turned to leave, adding a cool, final word. “Do as you say. Don’t do anything else… embarrassing.” The door closed. Zoe and I looked at each other and simultaneously shrugged. Then, I pulled out my phone and ordered a gourmet meal for three for later. Zoe messaged her teacher, politely asking for a digital backup of the class materials. As for tomorrow? We already had plans to go hiking with Ms. Simon. Who had time to worry about them? 2. Early the next morning, I heard Garrett’s gentle voice from the living room. “Cara, is it just the three of us going? Maybe… maybe we should still invite Noah and Zoe? I worry they might misunderstand. I’d be fine, but Ruby is still so fragile. She can’t handle the stress…” Ruby’s small voice piped up in agreement. “Daddy, I’m okay. Little Zoe… she didn’t mean to be mean.” Cara’s voice, soft and reassuring, followed. “Ruby, sweetie, don’t worry. If I bring them, who knows what kind of scene they’ll make. It’s not good for your treatment.” I sighed, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep. The next thing I knew, a rough force yanked me from the bed. Cara practically dragged me into the living room. “Look at the daughter you’re raising!” Her voice was a low snarl of fury. “Look at what she did to Ruby!” Garrett was holding a sobbing, trembling Ruby, who was covered in streaks of food and sauce. His eyes were red-rimmed. Zoe was sitting amidst a disastrous mess, tightly clutching three insulated lunch boxes, her small face red with effort, tears splashing onto the floor. “I didn’t push her!” Zoe cried out. “She’s a thief! She stole the lunch Daddy made for me! I just wanted it back!” Cara didn’t even look at her. She was carefully wiping Ruby down with a damp cloth, murmuring soothing words to Garrett. Only when that was done did she turn to me, her eyes holding a familiar, exhausted I knew it look. “Noah Miller, are you this resentful just because I asked you to make a few extra lunches? So you taught your daughter to pull this vile stunt?” She leaned in, her voice cold. “You promised last night. Are you going back on your word already?” I took a deep breath, patiently attempting to explain. “I didn’t teach her anything, and I believe Zoe. Your lunches were on the counter—Garrett’s family’s food. Ruby probably just picked up the wrong one by mistake…” “Stop.” Cara cut me off, her face tight with annoyance, as if watching a terrible, familiar play. “Don’t act surprised. I haven’t forgotten what you two are capable of. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Noah. You need to take a long, hard look at how to be a responsible father.” The words choked in my throat. Before the memory loss, we had an agreement: if she kept her distance from Garrett and Ruby, we would have peace. Cara did start coming home on time and checking in. But the moment Ruby got a scrape at preschool, Cara would materialize, dragging Zoe to apologize without hearing her side. When Zoe tried to defend herself, Cara would look at me and say, stone-cold: “Noah Miller, is your word that cheap? Don’t make a scene. Don’t push my patience and love to the breaking point. If you do, there’ll be nothing left to talk about.” The worst time, she’d dropped a line that was still scorched into my memory: “A child with a malicious heart like that? I don’t want her.” My young daughter couldn’t handle that. She chased Cara out of the house barefoot, running until her feet were bloody, grabbing her skirt and confessing to every false crime. “Mommy! I’m sorry! It’s all my fault! I won’t ever do it again! I apologized to Ruby!” “Please don’t leave Daddy and me!” Since then, Zoe never dared to defend herself again. I sighed softly. What was the point of explaining? In Cara’s eyes, we were already convicted, repeat offenders. I pulled Zoe close, my voice low and calm. “Zoe, give them the lunches.” My daughter’s small body stiffened, but then she aggressively wiped her face, gave up the argument, and silently pushed the tightly protected lunch boxes across the floor. Cara didn’t look at us again. She bent down, lifted Ruby into her arms, and shielded the two of them with her body. She turned to leave. Slam! The door closed with a sharp, final sound. The house instantly became terrifyingly quiet. It was just Zoe and me, and the wreckage on the floor. I quietly picked up a rag and started cleaning. Zoe squatted beside me, helping pick up the scattered mess. After a long moment, I asked softly: “Zoe, if one day, your father and mother separated…” “Who would you want to live with?” I’d asked her that when things were at their absolute worst with Cara. Then, she’d cried hysterically. “I don’t want you to split up, I want us to be a family forever!” Now, she didn’t hesitate. She looked up at me, her eyes clear and determined. “I’m staying with Daddy.” “No matter what happens, I’m only staying with Daddy.” I looked at her and felt a smile break across my face. The last sliver of coldness in my heart instantly melted away, replaced by a profound warmth. I stroked her hair. “Okay.” If that was the case, there was nothing left to fear. 3. Just as I finished clearing the last bit of the mess, the doorbell rang. “Mr. Miller? Zoe? Are you home?” Zoe’s eyes lit up. “It’s Ms. Simon!” She ran to the door. Outside, a bright, kind young woman bent down and embraced the child who flew into her arms. Seeing Zoe’s red, puffy eyes, Juliet Simon’s voice immediately softened. “Zoe, what happened? Have you been crying?” My daughter buried her face in Juliet’s shoulder, whimpering miserably. “The lunch Daddy made… someone took it…” “It’s okay,” Juliet said, gently patting her back. “Ms. Simon made new food. Everything that you and your daddy love.” She had a genuine knack for comforting the child. With just a few words, Zoe’s tears turned to laughter. Juliet finally looked up at me, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Noah. I called but couldn’t reach you. I got worried, so I just came over.” “Ms. Simon, please don’t apologize,” I quickly said. “You’re Zoe’s and my lifesaver. Please, call me Noah.” Half a year ago, it was Juliet who had pulled us from the wreckage of our crushed car, racing us to the hospital. Later, when she heard we had partial amnesia and were struggling with day-to-day things, she spontaneously began dropping off meals and taking Zoe to and from school. When our memories returned, she carefully retreated to a respectable distance. But soon after she heard the full story of our crash, she suddenly became Zoe’s new preschool teacher. Juliet’s ear tips turned slightly pink. She spoke quietly. “Noah, I’ve planned the entire hiking route. Shall we head out?” She was as good as her word; everything was perfectly organized. When Zoe got tired on the trail, Juliet immediately crouched down. “Zoe, hop on.” I felt a pang of guilt. “Don’t spoil her. You’re already carrying so much, Ms. Simon.” She just smiled, reaching out a hand to lightly brace herself on my arm. “It’s fine. I work out regularly. I’ve got the strength.” For some reason, watching her clear-cut profile, my heart started to beat erratically. Even when we reached the rest area and she took Zoe to buy water, that strange feeling hadn’t subsided. Just then, a small, familiar voice drifted from behind us. “Mommy! Let’s run!” It was followed by Garrett’s laughing voice. “Ruby, slow down. You’ll fall.” Finally, Cara’s voice, also tinged with warmth. “Ruby, Mommy’s going to catch you!” I turned my head and met the gaze of the three people not far behind me. The air solidified. Garrett’s face went white. He violently pulled Ruby into his chest, his voice trembling. “Mr. Miller… are you—are you stalking us again? Cara and I really aren’t doing anything, Ruby only calls her Mommy because she misses her mother so much… please, take whatever you have out on me, but don’t hurt the child…” Cara instantly stepped forward, completely blocking Garrett and Ruby from view, as if I were some kind of monster. Her jaw was tight, her eyebrows fiercely furrowed. “Noah Miller, I told you this is treatment. Their emotions are fragile; they cannot handle stress. How many times do I have to tell you to cure yourself of this paranoia?” I looked at the familiar, yet strangely foreign, faces before me, and the scene that had, in the past, caused me so much loss of control and misery. Now, my heart was completely calm. In fact, it felt a little ridiculous. You can’t even truly empathize with your past self. What exactly was my feeling for this woman now? If I loved her, I should be furious. Instead, I waved a casual hand. “I understand. It’s your duty as a therapist. You don’t need to explain it to me.” “I’m just here for a hike. We just happened to run into each other. Please, continue. Pretend I’m not here.” Cara clearly froze, her eyes locked on mine. “Ruby called me Mommy. You’re not angry?” I was genuinely confused. “Angry about what?” She stared at my face, searching for any sign of pretense, but found nothing. Her expression grew uglier, and the chill around her deepened. After a long silence, she seemed to come to a conclusion. Her voice was cold, and utterly convinced. “Don’t try to act, Noah Miller. I know you’re sulking. We’ll talk about this later. But for now, you need to go home. I won’t hold this against you this time.” I was about to respond when a clear, pleasant woman’s voice came from behind me. “Noah, what’s going on?” Cara’s head snapped up. She saw Juliet, and her entire body instantly locked up. “Is everything okay?” Juliet, holding a daughter whose face was sticky with sugar, quickly walked over to my side. I met her halfway. “What took so long? Did Zoe convince you to buy extra?” Catching Zoe’s pleading eyes, Juliet smiled to cover for her. “Just one tiny extra marshmallow to replenish her energy. This is yours.” She presented a much larger marshmallow, like a magic trick. I instinctively smiled. Just as I was about to take it— “Noah Miller,” Cara interrupted, her voice sharp and cold. “Who is she?” Ruby, peeking out from behind Cara, mumbled, “Why is Ms. Simon here?” I paused, realizing that since Garrett and Ruby had entered our lives, Cara had never once visited Zoe’s school or bothered to ask who had helped us after the accident. This was the first time she had seen Juliet Simon. “This is Ms. Simon,” I introduced her. “She was the one who pulled Zoe and me from the car after the accident six months ago.” As I moved to introduce Cara, Juliet had already extended her hand, smiling naturally. “You must be Ruby’s mother, then? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 4. The instant the words left Juliet’s mouth, Cara’s face went dark, a deep, ugly red spreading beneath her skin. She looked at Zoe and me, seeing our complete lack of reaction, and her voice dropped even colder. “I am Zoe’s mother. And Ms. Simon, why exactly are you with my husband and daughter?” “Ms. Simon is here hiking with us!” Zoe wrapped her arms around Juliet’s neck, her voice overflowing with affection. “She’s super strong! She carried me for ages and isn’t even tired!” Cara seemed to be fighting to suppress her rage. She withdrew the arm that had been guarding Garrett and Ruby, took a step forward, and held out her hand to Zoe. “Come here, Mommy will carry you. Don’t bother strangers.” Zoe’s smile instantly froze. She twisted her face away, burying it tightly in Juliet’s shoulder. “She’s no trouble at all,” Juliet said, her grip on the child firm, her smile still gentle. I spoke softly. “Don’t you need to continue your session with Garrett and Ruby? Don’t let us delay you. Zoe understands.” But Cara was rooted to the spot. No matter how much Ruby tugged on her sleeve, she didn’t move. She just stared at me, her eyes filled with a furious disbelief. “Noah Miller,” her voice was raw. “You’re just… completely indifferent?” “Work is important,” I replied blandly. Cara laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. “Fine. Don’t you dare regret this.” Seeing this, Garrett’s eyes immediately welled up. He pulled his daughter closer, his voice laced with a familiar tremor. “Cara, please don’t do this… Noah and Zoe must still be angry at us. Go spend time with them. Ruby and I… we can just go home by ourselves…” “There’s no need.” Cara scoffed dismissively, but when she turned to Garrett, her tone softened immediately. “Didn’t you say you learned a new recipe? I want to try it. And I can stay and paint with Ruby.” With that, she naturally took Ruby’s hand. Before turning away completely, she looked at me one last time. “I’ll be home late tonight. Don’t call and interrupt us.” I was very obedient. I didn’t call once. It wasn’t until late that night that my phone screen lit up with her message: “Noah Miller. Good. You are very good.” Then, Cara didn’t come home for two weeks. Her social media, however, was flooded with vacation photos of her, Garrett, and Ruby. The location tags showed they were in the Maldives—the very place we were supposed to go for our anniversary trip, the trip she had postponed indefinitely. The scenery was undeniably beautiful. I absentmindedly tapped the ‘Like’ button. In the middle of the night, Cara’s call came through, laced with a repressed, yet undeniable, smugness. “Noah, don’t pout. I saw your like. Isn’t it Zoe’s birthday in two days? I’ll buy her gifts and rush back.” I was half-asleep. “Don’t bother. Zoe’s birthday was two days ago. Ms. Simon celebrated with her and gave her a lot of gifts.” A heavy silence fell on the line. “I… I mixed up the dates,” her voice was strained. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll throw her a make-up party.” I was about to refuse, but she hung up before I could. I decided not to push it. She was still the child’s mother. The next day, I took Zoe to the hotel Cara had sent the address for. The event was grander than any birthday party Zoe had ever had. Cara rushed forward, bending to hug Zoe. “Zoe, happy belated birthday. Mommy sent all your gifts home. Do you like them?” Zoe instinctively sidestepped her embrace, nodding. “Thank you. I like them very much.” Cara’s outstretched arms froze mid-air, a flash of genuine loss crossing her face. She led us into the ballroom. On the giant screen, photos of Ruby Price were scrolling. Cara quickly explained. “It’s Ruby’s birthday, too. I thought we could celebrate both children together. You know, her mother abandoned them right after she was born…” “It’s fine,” I cut her off. “I understand.” Ruby’s party was scheduled first. She wore an expensive, limited-edition princess dress and danced on the stage, taking the microphone to thank Cara for filling the void left by her mother. I looked down at Zoe, who was just intently eating her cake, completely unaffected. I smiled lightly, wiping a smudge of frosting from her mouth. Before it was Zoe’s turn, Garrett pulled me aside to the hotel’s pool deck. His usual frail demeanor was gone, replaced by a smug smirk. “Noah Miller, did you see that? Even after six years of marriage and a daughter, the moment I show up, you and your daughter will always be second to us in Cara’s heart.” “Whether it’s the trip you always wanted or your daughter’s birthday… Guilt isn’t love, Noah. It’s just pity.” “Are you suggesting I divorce her?” I asked calmly. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to bring it up.” He was stunned for a moment. “You’d give up? You sacrificed your chance to study abroad just for her.” I vaguely recalled college. Cara was the queen bee—beautiful and accomplished. But she wasn’t truly my type. Then, I was jumped and beaten, and she braved the situation to call the police for me. After that, I was obsessed. I chased her relentlessly, right through graduation. I’d fought bitterly with my parents and abandoned my career prospects, desperate to marry her. Yet, recalling it now, my heart was utterly still. I even felt a little foolish, like the twenty-year-old me had read too many romance novels. I shook my head, my voice sincere. “It’s nothing. If you want her, you can have her.” “Noah Miller, what did you say?!” Cara stood behind us, her face pale with fury, her eyes bloodshot. Garrett glanced over my shoulder, then let out a low, cold sneer. “Keep up the act. I’ll make sure you give up eventually.” Before I could react, he suddenly fell backward! I instinctively reached out to grab him, but the momentum dragged me along, and we both plunged into the cold pool! “Noah!” “Daddy!” The cold water flooded my nose and mouth, and I struggled violently. Through my blurry vision, I saw Cara hesitate for a split second, then swim toward… Garrett. The water fully closed over my head, muffling all sound. In the chaos, a small, weak hand suddenly grabbed me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390826”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was setting the bowl of iron-rich protein milk—the kind that smelled faintly metallic and never seemed to warm you up—on the kitchen counter for my sister when the blood gushed from my nose. I grabbed a paper towel and pinched my nostrils shut, bracing myself against the island. But it was too late. The crimson spill had already hit the white tile. And as it did, a strange, electric current of text flashed across my vision. It was The comments. “Perfect. Two more bleeds and the side character finally kicks the bucket.” “Thank God. Once she’s gone, the main girl won’t have to keep giving blood and choking down that nasty recovery sludge.” My hand, holding the blood-soaked tissue, froze. The side character? Was that me? Was I going to die? “Poor little Ella. She’ll be sad when her sister dies, but it’s a necessary sadness.” They were right. Ella cried if I just scraped my knee. “The sadness is temporary. Without her anchor sister dragging her down, she can go to the best schools, meet the hero who heals her, and live happily ever after.” Ella would be happy? She would have a good life? Then it was fine. If I was going to die, then it was all for the best. 1. Ella, who was hunched over her textbooks on the worn sofa, rushed over the moment she saw the blood. “Aria! What happened?” She was frantic, practiced. She deftly tilted my head, applied pressure, and guided me to sit at the small dining table. The Comments were mocking the scene. “My heart breaks for the sweet little thing. Born to be the sister’s blood bag, and still so devoted.” “Why won’t the side character just die already? Stop dragging the whole family down.” “Seriously. Ella’s a senior. It’s crunch time for college applications, and she won’t even board at school for evening study because of her.” Ella, a blood bag? No. She was the one we’d all waited for, the miracle baby born into a life of expectation and love. But they had a point: I was the weight that was sinking her future. I pulled my hand away from Ella, who was reaching for my clotting medication, and smiled a reassuring, tired smile. “I’m fine, El. Just rubbed my nose too hard.” My voice was soft, but steady. “I’m doing so much better, sweetheart. You don’t need to hover over me all the time.” I squeezed her hand. “You only have a few months until your exams. Please, go back to the campus dorms and focus.” Ella’s face hardened, her expression suddenly mature and stubborn. “Absolutely not. I went back for three days last month, and you nearly bled out. You ended up in the ER.” She wrapped her arms around me, holding me tightly. “You are the most important thing to me, Aria. Nothing comes before you. Nothing.” I didn’t argue. What was the point? Once I was gone, Mom and Dad would have no choice but to send her back. Later that night, Ella went to pick up Mom from her late shift. I slipped out to take the trash to the bins, but as I passed the fire exit stairwell, I heard their hushed, broken voices. “It’s all my fault. I was too sick to terminate the pregnancy back then. Why did I let our little Ella be born into all this hardship?” Mom’s voice, usually a fortress of strength, was choked with tears. “Your father and I would gladly take care of Aria for the rest of our lives, but we can’t let her ruin yours.” “We have to bank blood for your sister every month. How much is that draining you?” Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life tied to a burden? This is going to destroy your future.” I stood still, paralyzed, my chest contracting painfully. They were right. All of it was my fault. To stabilize my rare, crippling clotting disorder, my father, Rob, worked the hardest, longest construction jobs miles away, rarely coming home. Mom took every double shift she could get. And Ella—my brilliant, focused little sister—refused to apply to any college that wasn’t within commuting distance. My sister’s response was a fierce, audible roar. “Mom! How can you say that?” Ella’s voice was as clear and ringing as a bell. “I only have one sister. She is not a burden. She is my most important person.” Her tone softened but remained resolute. “Wherever Aria goes, I go.” My hand rested lightly on the cold stairwell handle. I will not ruin her. I closed my eyes and whispered a silent promise into the stale night air. I’m dying soon. And then, Ella, your life will finally be yours. 2. I pushed the door open, trying to mask the tremor in my hands. The two of them jumped, their faces registering a fleeting moment of guilt and panic. I forced a cheerful grin. “Mom, El, what are you two doing out here?” Seeing that I hadn’t overheard anything, they relaxed slightly. Ella came forward and grabbed my hand. I watched Mom quickly wipe the corners of her eyes behind Ella’s back. “We were just talking about Dad,” Ella chirped, her eyes shining. “He’s coming home soon! Aren’t you excited, Sis?” I looked at the genuine excitement in her eyes. It was pathetic how little time my father got to spend with his favorite daughter because he was constantly chasing money for my care. “Let’s celebrate,” I suggested lightly. “We should bake him something. A surprise.” Mom and Ella walked with me to the trash cans. The Comments immediately sprang to life, a fresh wave of vitriol. “Wouldn’t it be nice? If she wasn’t a leech, Ella and her parents could have a normal, happy life.” “It’s a pity. Why isn’t the side character dead yet?” “I curse her to an early grave.” “Curse her to an early grave +1.” “+10,000.” I curse Aria Sullivan to an early grave +1. I silently added myself to the list. I walked a few paces behind them, watching Mom and Ella under the flickering streetlight. From a distance, they looked like any ordinary, happy mother and daughter. But look closely, and the truth was heartbreaking. Ella was pale and too thin. Mom, barely in her early forties, was already hunched and silver-haired. I remembered the pictures from the factory Christmas parties—Mom, the undisputed “Factory Rose,” the one Dad was always playfully jealous of. Now, she was a frail, hollowed-out woman, worn down by worry and financial strain. I was the reason. I was the wreckage. In our shared bedroom, I lay on the bottom bunk, watching the halo of light spill from the top one, listening to the soft scratch-scratch of Ella’s pen. She was brilliant, disciplined, and infinitely better than me in every way. The local State University, where I was enrolled, was beneath her. She deserved so much more. “Ella,” I whispered into the dark. “I’m sorry. You could have gone to Stanford.” The sound of her writing stopped. I heard a sharp, suppressed sob above me, followed by the soft sound of a book closing. A minute later, the light went out, and the mattress creaked. Ella was climbing down. Like we used to when we were kids, we curled up together in the same small bed, whispering our deepest secrets. “Aria, you’re the most important thing,” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “Once I start college, I can go to the library with you, we can get part-time jobs together, we can shop, we can build a future that belongs just to us. Any other future, no matter how good, is worthless if you’re not in it.” Her voice cracked. “Besides, medical science is advancing so fast. In a few years, they’ll probably have a cure for you.” We gripped each other’s hands, our tears soaking the same pillow. But I knew I wouldn’t make it. The only comfort was that time heals all wounds. Once I was gone, once Mom and Dad and Ella were finally free of this terrible weight, they would forget this difficult time. They would move on. The next Saturday afternoon was Ella’s birthday. I took the cash from my part-time job and paid for a proper photoshoot for her. When the photographer suggested we take one together, I quickly agreed. Deep down, I was selfish. I wanted to leave them something, a memory, so they wouldn’t forget me entirely. I was in the changing room when my legs suddenly gave out. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the vanity. The floor was instantly splashed with vivid, startling blood. I frantically wiped it up with a towel and swallowed two clotting pills. “Second time! Second time!” The Comments were celebrating. “Universal rejoicing. The third time has to be soon.” “It does. If the side character dies before Ella’s next blood donation, it won’t affect her exams.” “Die! Die! Die!” One more time? At this rate, I had maybe a week. I wouldn’t need Ella’s blood donation. That really was good news. But then, a raw, cold spike of fear pierced through me. The fear of oblivion. Tears, hot and traitorous, spilled down my cheeks. My hands started to shake uncontrollably. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. I huddled on the floor, trying to soothe the panic. Knock, knock, knock. “Aria? Are you ready?” I scrambled up, desperate to clean the last traces of blood, but Ella pushed the door open just as I stood. 3. “Aria, what is it?” She saw my tear-streaked face, my hand clamped over my bleeding nose, and the other hand desperately trying to hide the crimson-stained towel. She rushed forward and gently helped me to my feet. “What’s going on? Is the bleeding constant? We’re going to the hospital! I have to give you blood right now, or you’ll die!” Massive blood loss meant no oxygen to the brain—you either end up severely disabled or dead. I knew the drill. But I held her back, pulling the blood-soaked tissue away from my nose. “It’s okay, El. It stopped. Let’s just finish the pictures, then we’ll go.” Ella’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. I smiled weakly. “No, really. It still happens easily, but it clots much faster now. Maybe… maybe I’m actually getting better?” It was a lie. I was just so anemic that there wasn’t much blood left to bleed. Her eyes instantly flooded with delighted surprise. “Really? Oh, thank God! That’s amazing!” After the shoot, we were walking down a quiet side street on our way home, Ella excitedly going through the photo proofs, when two stumbling, drunken men appeared from the shadow of a nearby corner bar. “Well, well. Look at the two little ladies.” “Come on, girls. Come have a drink with the boys.” They moved toward us. I quickly shoved Ella behind me and turned to run toward the main road. The men yelled curses behind us. “Why are you running? We were being nice calling you over.” “Fucking ungrateful little bitches.” I kept pulling Ella, but one of the men hurled a beer bottle. It hit Ella’s shin with a sickening thud. “Ah!” Ella screamed, collapsing to the ground. As the two men closed the distance, I snatched up the broken neck of the bottle. My hand was shaking as I held the razor-sharp glass out toward them. “Stay back!” I screamed. The men sauntered closer, savoring the fear on our faces, like predators toying with their prey. Ella used her good leg to frantically shove me away. “Aria, run! Go! Don’t worry about me!” I couldn’t leave her. The men were close enough that I could smell the stale beer and sweat radiating off them. I saw a hand clamp down on Ella’s arm. Without a second thought, I plunged the jagged glass neck into the attacker’s throat. He screamed and stumbled, shoving me to the ground in his desperate flailing. My wrist landed hard on a patch of broken ceramic, slicing open the skin above my artery. Bright, shocking blood immediately began to stream out. The screams brought out neighbors and passersby. Someone called the police. Someone else called 911. I woke up in a hospital bed to the sound of Ella’s desperate sobs beside me. I tried to smile, though my lips felt numb. “Don’t cry, El. I finally got to protect you, didn’t I?” Then, the world went dark. Had I died? The next second, The comments scrolled again. “Too bad. She didn’t die.” “The evil that men do lives after them. The side character has nine lives.” I slowly focused on the fluorescent light of the hospital room. A nurse was changing the dressing on my arm. She sighed sympathetically when she saw I was awake. “You have a severe clotting disorder. You were this close to not making it.” She shook her head. “It’s a good thing your sister fought to give you a transfusion. Honestly, it was a life-for-a-life scenario.” My heart lurched. I grabbed the nurse’s hand. “Where is my sister? How is she doing?” “Calm down,” the nurse said gently. “She’s next door, still sleeping, but your mother just arrived.” I immediately tried to struggle out of bed, managing to walk the few unsteady steps to the room next door. Through the glass, I saw Mom sitting by Ella’s bedside, gently stroking her hair, her eyes glistening with tears. As if sensing my presence, Mom looked up. I pushed the door open and started toward the bed. “Mom…!” The sound of my name was cut short by the sharp, stinging slap of my mother’s hand across my face. I gripped the edge of Ella’s bed to keep from falling, looking up at the furious, exhausted expression on her face. 4. Mom’s hand was still shaking. She looked at me, her voice a raw, desperate rasp. “Why couldn’t you just stay put?” She was hysterical, her breath catching in her throat. “You knew you were sick! Why did you have to go out? Were you trying to make your sister risk her life for you?” Tears streamed down her face. “She has done so much for you. Why can’t you have a little pity on her?” She sank onto the chair, covering her eyes. “Why did I give birth to a parasite?” she whispered, the words like shattered glass. “Why can’t you just die? Why are you still alive?” I stood frozen, staring first at my sister’s pale, lifeless face, and then at my mother, who looked a thousand years old. She’s right. Why am I still alive? I drew a deep, shuddering breath and sank to my knees at my mother’s feet. I bowed my head until my forehead met the cool tile floor. I heard my mother’s choked sobs stop abruptly. “Mom,” I said, my voice barely audible, thick with genuine emotion. “I’m so sorry. I know how hard you, Dad, and Ella have struggled these past years because of me.” I looked straight at her, engraving her tired, loving face in my memory, as if I’d never see it again. “It was my luck to have you. But I have only brought you misfortune. I am truly sorry for being born.” I pushed myself up and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, blood gushed from my nose again. I pressed my thin sleeve to my face, but it was immediately soaked through. The comments was back, jubilant. “The final one! The final one! Thirty minutes, tops! The side character is done!” Thirty minutes? That was enough time to do one last thing. I found the doctor who had managed my case for years. I signed the organ donation agreement and the consent form for my body to be used for medical research. The doctor looked at me with profound pity. “Are you absolutely sure, Aria?” I nodded. “Please, wire the payment to my mother’s account. Ella is still out, so please don’t tell Mom yet. She won’t be able to handle it.” A few minutes later, I was floating above the operating theater, watching my own lifeless body being placed on a gurney. I watched the team prepare the recipient who was waiting for my heart. The successful donation would bring in a hundred thousand dollars—enough to clear our family debt and finally send Ella to the prestigious university she deserved. I followed my body, now covered by a sheet, toward the operating room, but a new movement caught my attention. Mom. “Excuse me, which room is my daughter, Aria Sullivan, in?” The nurse checked her records, confused. “Aria Sullivan? Her records have been cleared. She must have been discharged.” I saw the sudden guilt and panic on Mom’s face. “Discharged? How could she be? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. She must be angry.” Mom, I’m not angry. Just then, Mom passed the gurney. The white sheet had somehow lifted at the edge, revealing my ashen face. Mom’s footsteps faltered. I tried to float forward and block the view, forgetting I was just a transparent soul. 5. “Ella… I mean, Ella Sullivan’s relative? Ella’s awake.” The nurse watching Ella called Mom away. Mom, startled, glanced at my gurney one last time, then rushed off in the other direction, heading with relief toward Ella’s room. I followed them, feeling a massive wave of relief that Mom hadn’t seen my body. The shock of my death, following her outburst and the fear for Ella, would have been too much for her. My body was wheeled into the operating room. The organ harvest was about to begin. Anxious about Ella, I drifted into her room, where Mom was sitting by the bedside, listening to her recount the events of the previous night. I took a seat across from them. Ella’s face was still a deathly white from blood loss, and she was shaking, reliving the terror. “Aria took me out for birthday pictures, and we ate at my favorite bistro,” Ella explained, grasping Mom’s hand. “But on the way home, two drunk thugs cornered us.” Mom’s face was a mask of shock. She hadn’t known the full story, only rushing to the hospital straight from her shift. “And… and then?” Ella squeezed her hand for reassurance. “They hurt my leg first, then they rushed up to drag me away. But Aria protected me.” I sat by her side, gently running my incorporeal hand through her hair. I was the one who was dying. Of course, I protected you. “I told her to run, that I was already hurt, that we couldn’t both die there.” Ella started to sob. “But she wouldn’t. She pulled me behind her and fought them.” “She stabbed one of them, but then she got pushed, and her wrist hit the broken glass. The blood… it just poured out. If those people hadn’t called the police, we both would have died.” Ella looked frantically at Mom. “Mom, where is Aria? Is she okay? What happened to her?” Mom’s eyes filled with shame. “Aria woke up before you. She came to see you, but I… I made a mistake.” She buried her face in her hands. “I was so angry and scared, I yelled at her. I didn’t even let her explain. She must have been so weak, and she checked herself out and walked home. What if she collapsed on the street?” “Go home, Mom,” Ella urged. “I’m awake now. You need to go find Aria and bring her back. And maybe bring me some lunch.” Mom nodded, preparing to leave, when the hospital room door burst open. Two police officers strode in, their expressions grim. The leading officer spoke in a cold, professional tone. “Who is Ella Sullivan?”

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After three straight years working through the holidays—Christmas, New Year’s, Easter—I finally had the time off. I was driving my trusty, pink car home for the break. On the highway, there was this one male driver, an absolute pest. Seeing a woman at the wheel of a bright pink vehicle, he started deliberately tailgating, then cutting me off, then tailgating again. It was a calculated form of intimidation. I didn’t get angry, and I certainly didn’t engage in a shouting match. I just stayed behind him until we reached the service plaza, where I quietly slipped on a yellow reflective vest. I grabbed my handcuffs, stepped out, and walked over to the smug asshole who was standing beside his car. His face went from triumphant to sheet-white in an instant. I allowed myself a cold smile. “You just volunteered me for overtime, buddy. And you’re not going home. You’re coming police station with me.” 1. It was the day before the holiday, and the line for the toll booths stretched back for miles. Cars were bumper-to-bumper, moving slower than a snail race. I was behind a dark SUV, with that white sedan—let’s call the driver Dustin—right on my bumper. At first, I barely noticed. I was used to heavy traffic. Then he laid on his horn three times. “BEEP—BEEP—BEEP!” The sound was sharp and grating under the metal roof of the toll plaza. I instinctively checked the rearview mirror. The white sedan’s hood was practically kissing my rear bumper. The distance was exaggeratedly close, aggressive. My professional instinct was to frown, but it was the holidays, and I wasn’t looking for trouble. To create space, I nudged forward a few feet. He stopped for a second, then, seeing I didn’t move more, he hit the horn again. The noise drew annoyed glances and complaints from surrounding drivers. “What the hell is going on? Why is that horn blowing nonstop?” “I don’t know, but the traffic is bad enough!” “Hey, just let the guy through! Hurry up, whatever is holding us up!” Even the toll attendant glanced up. I frowned, a slow burn of resentment starting in my chest. Where am I supposed to go? It wasn’t like I was the only one in line. I decided to ignore him, turning up the satellite radio. Outside my window, holiday lights were strung up along the fence lines, and the radio was playing festive, upbeat music. But the pit in my stomach was growing. This was the first time I’d been home in three years. My job was structured so that the busiest times always fell over the major holidays. This year, new hires meant we “veterans” finally got a break, and I was desperate to get home. Spring traffic was already a nightmare, and this aggressive prick behind me was making it worse. I forced myself to take a breath, focusing only on getting through the toll booth. The honking finally stopped, muffled by the rising chorus of complaints from the other drivers. Maybe Dustin realized he was only drawing negative attention to himself. He seemed to grudgingly suppress his rage. The line inches forward. The toll light was green, and I slowly coasted to the window. I pulled up the digital toll pass on my phone. And then, the system lagged. The payment page spun, stuck on a loading screen. Nothing happened. I tapped the screen again. Still nothing. The toll attendant glanced at me. “Holiday traffic, signal gets slow, don’t worry about it.” I nodded, about to refresh my data connection. But that small pause was all the excuse Dustin needed. In the rearview mirror, the white sedan instantly glued itself to my bumper again. Zero space. The horn blared, sharp and aggressive. “BEEP!” It wasn’t a prolonged drag, but a series of short, frantic jabs—intentionally directed at me. I kept my head down, focusing on my phone. This brief hold-up seemed to ignite the collective frustration of the drivers around me. But this time, they aimed it at me. “What is the delay up there? How long does it take to pay a toll? Get moving!” “Can you hurry up? People are waiting!” “If you can’t operate the machine, pull over! Don’t hog the lane!” The voices came from all directions. Dustin’s horn kept sounding. The toll attendant frowned, leaning out to look back at the line. “Stop with the honking! She’s having a network issue,” he called out. Then to me: “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” I handed him my phone. He fiddled with it, and finally, the network connected. The successful payment chime sounded. I sighed in relief, ready to hit the gas. The horn behind me immediately sounded again. The attendant’s face darkened. He shouted back at the white sedan: “Last warning! Maintain order, or I’m calling highway patrol!” The noise stopped instantly. I nodded my thanks and pulled away. Just past the gate, before I could accelerate to highway speed, a flash of white shot out from the left. The white sedan flooring it, swerving around me without signaling, cutting me off aggressively. I slammed on the brakes. My car lurched. The seatbelt locked tight across my chest, digging in painfully. Dustin’s car was now settled directly in front of me, straddling the lane lines. 2. He kept his speed agonizingly low. My speedometer needle barely climbed before he slammed his brakes again, forcing me back down. I had to drop my speed. The cars behind me started blaring their horns. The first was a gray van. I saw the driver lean out his window and shout a swear word, clearly looking for the culprit. But when his eyes found my pink car, his voice cut off. He shook his head, pulled back into his car, and immediately increased the distance between us. The anger hadn’t vanished, but its target had settled. The white sedan, Dustin, seemed to take a perverse pleasure in this. He accelerated for a moment, then abruptly let off the gas. His car wobbled but settled firmly, blocking my path. I swallowed my frustration and tried to signal a lane change. He caught it instantly. As soon as my car drifted, he shifted too. His speed wasn’t fast, but his movements were precise—like he was staring right at me. Traffic in the other lanes moved normally, but our lane was a slow-motion catastrophe. Drivers who were annoyed enough to pass sped up beside me. One driver yelled: “Can you just get off the highway if you can’t drive, or what? Stop blocking the damn entrance!” He didn’t bother to check the facts and sped off. Hearing the public insult, the driver’s window of the white sedan rolled down halfway. Dustin stuck his hand out, drummed his fingers on the door, and then flipped me off. His eyes were full of blatant, malicious satisfaction. I took a deep breath. Given we were still near the on-ramp, I increased the distance between us slightly. This kind of cat-and-mouse game on the highway was dangerous for everyone. But the male driver clearly wasn’t done. A few minutes later, he braked hard again, dropping to barely thirty miles an hour. The drivers behind me were furious. Horns were sounding in a continuous stream. “What the hell is the hold-up? This is a highway, not a side street! We’re going thirty miles an hour!” “That stupid woman is dragging ass! Get off the road if you can’t handle a highway!” A passing driver leaned out his window and started screaming. “What is with that sickening pink? And a woman driver? Pure road killer!” “If you don’t care about your life, we do! Stop causing this backup!” The shouts weren’t loud, but every word cut through the air. My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I didn’t respond. I looked up at the dashcam. The red light was on, the mic was active. Everything was recording. I scanned the overhead signage. Ten miles to the next service plaza. I finally had a clear idea. As the white car continued its pattern of bullying me, I tapped the brake lightly. My hood dipped. The car behind me—a large pickup—had to slam on his brakes, the screech dragging along the asphalt. Luckily, my previous low speed meant everyone was already cautious. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. As Dustin’s car slid a few feet ahead of me, I didn’t immediately try to pass or speed up. I waited for the cars behind me to reposition, then slowly brought my speed back up. My gaze was on the upcoming sign. The service plaza logo was getting closer. Confirming the direction, I opened my car’s navigation app. I located the blue symbol and pressed a speed-dial number on my phone. The call connected quickly. “Metro East Precinct. How can I help you?” “Kenji, it’s me.” My voice was steady. “Are you guys running the patrol detail on the East Loop today?” A beat of silence. “Stella? What’s going on? Why are you calling? You’re on vacation.” “I have a situation. Aggravated reckless driving on the highway—serious public safety risk. I’m going to lead him into the next service plaza. I need you guys to pre-stage some units there.” I heard a muffled flurry of movement on the other end. “Understood, Stella. You keep your distance and stay safe. I’m dispatching two cars now.” “Thanks, Kenji. I owe you.” I hung up, flicked on my signal. The direction wasn’t for the homebound lane. It was for the service plaza exit ramp. 3. My hood drifted toward the service plaza ramp. Dustin, who had been deliberately pacing me, noticed immediately. He hesitated for two seconds, realizing I was no longer following the main highway traffic. Then, he signaled, too. He followed. I remained calm, my only immediate focus on keeping a safe distance from the surrounding traffic. I also kept making small feints, small movements that suggested I was about to speed past him. That kind of bully is terrified of losing “control.” I gave him a chance to continue his harassment, and he didn’t pass it up. The white sedan suddenly veered left, trying to get ahead. I anticipated it, a slight correction of the steering wheel, keeping my position within the legal lane lines. His driving wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t get around and was forced to drop his speed with me. The sudden slow-down threw the following traffic into chaos. Screeching brakes sounded again. Drivers started yelling at the white sedan. “What are you doing? Cutting people off on the highway?” “I almost rear-ended you! If you want to harass a female driver, go to the city! Don’t risk my life on the freeway!” Dustin rolled his window down and yelled something back. The words were lost to the wind, but the furious expression made the content clear. I used the momentary distraction to create distance and smoothly enter the exit ramp. The service plaza ramp was narrower than the main highway, and the speed limit was much lower. Perfect. If Dustin wanted to continue his outburst, he had to follow. He probably thought I was running away, trying to wait him out until he left. His impatience took over. He crossed the line and drove right up my bumper again. His hood was inches from my tail. The drivers behind him were appalled. One rolled down his window. “Hey, white sedan! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Slow down!” “Is that guy using us as speed bumps?!” Dustin ignored them. He even floored the gas for a second, attempting to pass me on the right. But the ramp was curved, and there was a guardrail. His technique was poor; his previous success was due only to my deliberate avoidance and the natural caution of others on the highway. He had to slam the brakes and pull back in. His car swayed violently from side to side, then settled. No accident. The swaying gave the trailing drivers a clear view. Some started to realize their previous anger was misdirected. “What is wrong with that white car? His driving is atrocious, who taught him that?” “He was doing the same thing back on the main road! I thought that girl in the pink car was the problem…” “Well, she is a woman driver. Who told her to get on the road and upset people?” The arguments and murmurs traveled between the cars, but this time, it wasn’t a unanimous attack on me. I still didn’t look back. My focus remained fixed on the road ahead. I knew that a single misstep now would ruin everything. The service plaza sign appeared. I activated my right turn signal. The white sedan practically followed me into the parking lot. There were speed bumps at the entrance. I slowed down. Dustin didn’t anticipate it. His car dipped hard, and he had to jam his foot on the brake. The tires let out a muffled groan. The drivers behind him exploded in rage. “Are you kidding me? You can’t slow down for the speed bumps in a rest area?!” “So many people are here! Are you trying to kill us?” Someone pulled out their phone and started recording. Dustin was getting desperate. He fully lowered his window. “It’s none of your damn business! If that woman wasn’t blocking me, I wouldn’t be doing this!” He shouted back at them, then glared at my car. His eyes were burning. I ignored him, slowly pulling into the service plaza. I was actually faster than the white car once we were off the highway. He was clearly surprised by how abruptly I stopped. His car swerved slightly in front of me, then he cranked the wheel. He stopped, tight against my door. The driver’s door was violently shoved open. SLAM. A tall man, red-faced and furious, stepped out. 4. I remained in my car for a moment. I rolled the window all the way up and pulled the privacy screen across the front windshield. Then, ignoring the shouting man outside, I turned and reached into the back seat for my gear.

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My body isn’t quite like everyone else’s. To relieve my needs, I found a man at a club. After six months together, I fell for him too hard. Gritting my teeth, I coughed up the down payment for a house, wanting to build a life with him. But less than three months later, I accidentally discovered he was a rich young master. Being with a mechanic like me was just a game to him. I didn’t get angry, didn’t make a scene. I just grabbed him by the hair and said: “You little bastard, give me back my fifty thousand dollars!” 1 After an intense session. I sat leaning against the headboard, feeling a bit drained. Lit a cigarette and smoked. Lowered my eyes to look at Caleb, panting slightly, face flushed pink. This kid looks fair and tender. But he’s got quite the kick. Even someone like me, who does manual labor all year round, was worn out. Thinking this, I couldn’t help pinching Caleb’s waist and abdomen. Checking if he was hiding something in there. Caleb looked up sharply. Wriggled into my arms in a few moves: “Zane, again?” I moved my hand away, afraid of dropping ash on him. “No more, early shift tomorrow.” Caleb pouted, looking disappointed: “Fine, let’s rest then.” Saying this, Caleb propped himself up, took the cigarette from my hand, stubbed it out. Then dragged me under the covers: “Sleep!” 2 Next morning. Caleb was still curled up sleeping under the quilt. I got up, washed, and made breakfast. Seeing I still had some time before work. Sneaked into the bedroom and kissed Caleb. “I’m going to work, breakfast is warm on the stove.” Caleb was groggy, hadn’t opened his eyes, but wrapped his arms around my neck. Kissed me hard. A long, minty kiss. Caleb woke up a bit, opening his eyes and rubbing against my arm. “Be careful on the road, safe travels.” Sweet words warmed my heart. “Pick you up from school this afternoon?” Today is Friday, Caleb’s classes end at five. Perfect timing for me to go after work. Getting Caleb’s affirmative answer. I left for work satisfied. Passing the dining room, caught a glimpse of the flowers Caleb brought back yesterday on the table. Couldn’t help curving my lips. Remembered a friend saying two days ago. A relationship built on an improper connection like mine with Caleb is precarious. Couldn’t help sneering. He’s just jealous. Caleb and I are living beautifully right now. 3 Worked hard all day. Even had a sticky lunch with Caleb over video call. Finally endured until clock-out time. Humming a tune, I took off my work clothes. The cashier girl couldn’t help teasing: “So happy, Zane, got a date tonight?” I raised an eyebrow, tacitly agreeing. Just hadn’t walked out of the shop when my phone rang. It was my friend Leo. I answered the phone while getting into my second-hand Volkswagen. Before I could speak, the voice on the other end came first. “Zane! Come save me! The shop is overwhelmed today, begging you~” 4 Leo is a friend, but more like my mentor. After graduating high school with nowhere to go, Leo, who opened an auto repair shop, took me in. Worked hard to learn the craft until Leo’s shop became more and more high-end, catering to rich people. I’m a high school graduate, speak bluntly, often offending clients over modifications. Finally, having no choice, I withdrew myself, moved to another district, and opened a small shop. Now Leo calls for help. I can’t refuse. Sent a message to Caleb saying I’m working overtime. Turned the steering wheel and went to Leo’s shop. 5 Arrived at the shop, exchanged a few pleasantries. Grabbed tools and drilled under a car. Maybe if I finish early, I can still pick up Caleb. Thinking and working, time flew by. Seeing it wrapping up. My movements unconsciously sped up. Suddenly, I heard a familiar name. “Caleb, you kid, finally have time to see your precious car? We almost thought you abandoned cars for good!” Then, a familiar voice sounded. “Fuck off.” Not the usual clingy tone, but rather impatient. But the voice was clearly the one I knew. My hands stopped moving. Kicked my leg, sliding out on the creeper. Looked towards the voice. View too low, angle tricky. I only saw a pair of shoes clearly. A pair of white sneakers I washed yesterday, laced up, and put in the shoe cabinet at home. 6 Leo heard the voice and went out to greet them. Calling “Young Master” repeatedly. In a while, someone drove a light blue sports car out of the garage. “Master Caleb, your car, want to test it first?” The white sneakers moved, “No need.” Took the keys, several people walked towards the sports car. Shoes gradually walked out of sight. My body, stiff for a long time, subconsciously propped up to stand. Field of vision instantly widened. I saw that familiar back of the head. Caleb likes to nestle in my arms when sleeping at night. I’ve touched that head no less than a hundred times. I dare confirm, that is Caleb. I leaned against a car, watching the group go away. Also heard them joke a few sentences. “How does it feel being a poor innocent boy for half a year?” “How much longer are you gonna play with that old uncle?” “Caleb, if you really like him, you should tell him clearly soon.” I stood blankly. The breeze blew for a long time, until the engine roared. I didn’t hear Caleb’s reply. 7 The sports car kicked up a cloud of gasoline-smelling dust. I still hadn’t come back to my senses. Leo walked over unknowingly: “What are you looking at? Know him?” I didn’t answer, asked: “Who is that Master Caleb?” “You mean him? Know Victor Vance, the richest man in S City? His biological dad. He goes to university in A City. “What? You have beef with him? Hold it in, we can’t afford to offend this young master.” Saying this, Leo handed me a cigarette. Lit it, held in mouth. Seeing me not answering for a long time. Leo was surprised: “Really got beef?” I took a deep drag. Stimulated by nicotine. Brain gradually calmed down. Beef? Hard to say. But there is a huge debt to settle now. 8 Meeting Caleb. Wasn’t very proper. I was born with a physical defect, having an extra set of organs compared to others (intersex). Disliked by family since childhood, busy working after growing up. Always avoided my own physical needs. Until half a year ago, a close friend who knew my secret dragged me to a high-end club in the name of a birthday. Despite repeated recommendations from my friend. I didn’t relent. After all, this place looked expensive, and what I saved was money for buying a house and living. Seeing me unmoved, my friend didn’t persuade further. Finally drank two glasses of wine, went to the toilet ready to leave. Just happened to run into Caleb being harassed. 9 The first time we met, Caleb wore a white shirt, tucked into pants. Clean. Looked easy to bully. Standing in front was a drunk potbelly, wanting to get handsy. I didn’t want to meddle at first. This club has all kinds of demons and ghosts. But when retracting my gaze, saw Caleb frowning slightly. A trace of impatience flashed in his eyes. Matched with the mole at the corner of his eye. A layer of perverseness floated on his whole face. Heart jumped fiercely. Don’t know why. Before thought not to cause trouble. Now feet unconsciously stepped over.

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Once we became close, my “work bestie” started showing a subtle malice toward me. I bought a new coat, and she blurted out that I looked like a wild boar, then immediately covered her mouth, claiming it was just a joke. Passing by the clearance section at the grocery store, she grabbed me and said, “This stuff isn’t fresh. Lily, stop being so cheap.” I hadn’t even planned to buy anything. Before I could retort, she was already giggling about something else. But overall, she treated me well. We had a good relationship. Yet, I was constantly drained. I asked my boyfriend for help. He smiled, “It’s fine, isn’t it? I feel like you’re being too sensitive.” “Babe, you look so cute when you’re worried! Give me a kiss!” I went to my mom. She frowned, “I told you people in the city are bad. If you can’t handle it, just come back home with me and your dad.” Why did my boyfriend and mom also have this subtle malice? Out of options, I met Senior Sister, a mentor figure. She smiled calmly, “All relationships are power dynamics.” She looked me up and down kindly, “And you radiate an aura of being easily bullied. Of course, they’ll inadvertently suppress you.” I panicked, “Really? What should I do?” Senior Sister smiled confidently, “There’s still hope. Do as I say…” 1 On Monday, I wore the black long down jacket that Sarah said made me look like a wild boar. After clocking in, I marched straight to the Finance Department. Seeing me enter, Sarah scanned me, frowning. “Wearing that again?” “Lily, don’t blame me for being straight, but don’t wear this next time. It really doesn’t look good.” Even though I was prepared, her words still stung. Last time I wore it was right when the temperature dropped. I had just bought this long black down jacket I’d been eyeing for a while. It cost nearly $300. After Sarah’s comment, I never wore it again. 【Don’t self-doubt, don’t avoid, don’t get angry. The best defense is offense!】 I tried to smile casually, reciting Script #2 proficiently. “What do you know, you fashion disaster? Black long down jackets are versatile for layering, and simple and warm otherwise.” From my first sentence, the corners of Sarah’s mouth remained slightly raised, but her eyes held no smile. Relief and anxiety surged in my heart simultaneously. I quickly grabbed the power bank on the table, trying to keep my tone light. “Borrowed my power bank, yet I have to come get it myself. Sarah, are you actually a dog?” People nearby laughed good-naturedly. Sarah’s fake smile was faltering. “Lily…” “Gotta go, gotta go, back to the grind. Bye!” Not giving her a chance to perform, I waved my hand as if escaping and rushed out the door. Clicking on the recording, I thought my counterattack was confident and flamboyant, but in reality, I lacked confidence, and my voice trembled. The only merit was that it was relatively smooth. Changing into my work clothes, I started working. Sarah and I belong to the same company. She’s an accountant in the Finance Department, and I’m an R&D specialist in the R&D Department. We have lunch together every day at noon. She just lost to me, so she will definitely try to regain ground at lunch. I waited nervously. 2 “Hi, Lily…” Sarah waved at me as if nothing happened. As soon as I approached, she and the Accounting Supervisor, Ms. Lee, huddled together laughing, but their teasing eyes frequently fell on me. They were talking about me! My steps stiffened involuntarily. When I got in front of them, they finally stopped laughing. Sarah poked Ms. Lee, trying to cover it up. “Anyway, can’t laugh anymore, or Lily will get angry.” Saying this, she glanced at me, as if I was about to explode. “Okay, okay, no laughing, no talking. Let’s eat!” Ms. Lee waved her hand and led the way to the cafeteria. Arm in arm, the two discussed enthusiastically what dishes to choose later. A nameless fire blocked my throat, leaving me speechless. I quickened my pace to catch up with them. I wanted to ask: What were you saying just now? What were you laughing at? Why label me as someone who gets angry easily? But the topic had already shifted. Dwelling on a small matter would make me seem petty. If I spoke up, I would jump into their trap of “Lily is very petty” and “Lily gets angry easily.” I followed them with a cold face to get food. Just as I picked up my soup, Sarah suddenly turned back to look at me seriously. “Lily, why the long face? You’re not angry, are you?” Before I could react, she apologized immediately. “Sorry, it’s my fault for making you unhappy.” Ms. Lee, two steps ahead, looked back, and colleagues behind also looked over curiously. A familiar irritability swept over me. Saying “it’s okay” meant swallowing the grievance and getting a reputation for having an attitude. I couldn’t argue with her about what happened just now either; it would show I cared and was calculating. In my dilemma, I suddenly remembered Senior Sister’s words. 【When you really have no moves, expose her malice directly! Ask her back!】 【There aren’t that many purely evil people in this world. Many people are also panicked inside when testing your boundaries.】 Taking a hidden breath, I replied calmly: “Why would I be angry? Did you do something terrible?” “Suddenly turning back to apologize to me, it’s baffling.” A second ago, the hidden triumph in Sarah’s eyes was blinding, but hearing my words, she froze. Her eyes widened slightly, leaving only sheer astonishment. Even her mouth opened slightly subconsciously. She was surprised by my counterattack! She was really nervous! All her ease was built on the premise of my obedient cooperation! My heart pounded with excitement. Sarah wasn’t invincible! Holding my tray, I walked past her and left. Meeting Ms. Lee’s gaze, I smiled naturally. “Sarah is so weird today. Laughing one minute, then suddenly apologizing to me.” “I’ll head back to the R&D side first. I have data to verify urgently.” 3 My heart was still thumping lightly from the victory just now. I focused on my food, eating seriously, occasionally joining the chat of colleagues next to me. I ignored the few joyless glances Sarah cast my way. When Senior Sister pointed out I was in a low-status position in relationships, I was terrified. My instinct was to escape. Senior Sister hit the nail on the head. “Every relationship is a game. You can’t escape it.” “Relationships, simply put, are of four types—mutually charging, tug-of-war, business partnership, or… purely toxic. Except for toxic relationships, others can be adjusted. Which one are you and Sarah?” I thought about it. Like a tug-of-war. I was always retreating, she was always advancing. “If one day you pull her over, do you still want to be good friends with her?” I froze, thought seriously, and shook my head. Senior Sister stroked her chin. “Then use her for practice. Social skills need practice!” “While practicing, think about what kind of relationships you have with your boyfriend and mom?” After eating enough, I messaged her to report the victory. She replied instantly: 【Well done! I said you were sharp and smart!】 I smiled shyly. The next message followed closely. 【People used to you giving in will take your retreat as their due. When you wake up and resist, they will be furious! Feel betrayed! Will counterattack fiercely! Are you ready?】 I put down my phone and took a deep breath. Come on, I’m not afraid. I will take back the territory I tacitly gave away, piece by piece! 4 Sarah didn’t contact me for days. Her daily Instagram grid posts were unshakable: boba tea, hot pot, escape rooms… laughing without a shadow. The protagonists were all our mutual friends. When I saw them, I silently liked them and scrolled past. Even when Ms. Lee quietly probed, I played dumb and glossed over it. Until Friday. A group photo smashed into my vision: In the center of the crowd, the beaming old accountant Mr. Wang held flowers. HR, Finance, Admin, Production… even a few key members of our R&D department who had received his care were surrounding him. The caption read: 【Farewell to a workplace mentor, grateful for 30 years of dedication! The company will always have your legend!】 My blood rushed to my head with a boom. This was Mr. Wang’s retirement farewell party! Mr. Wang was famous for being a nice guy. He was always cheerful when anyone went for reimbursement. When I joined, he even taught me the rules for pasting invoices. But I didn’t know about this farewell party. In our traditional chemical industrial enterprise with slow personnel turnover and intricate relationships, such informal social occasions are often key for information exchange and emotional lubrication. You can, of course, streamline your social life, but being excluded from a consistent circle sends a devastating signal: either your popularity is extremely poor, so poor that the organizers think you are unworthy of coming; or you are indifferent to people and have no respect for seniors. I couldn’t even ask “Why didn’t you invite me?” Questioning would only fall into Sarah’s trap and get me labeled with more hats. And Sarah in the photo stood beside Mr. Wang. Her smile was warm, tears glistening in her eyes. Exiting the photo, more photos from other angles refreshed. Everyone liked and commented on each other’s posts, especially queuing up under Mr. Wang’s post. I opened the chat box with Senior Sister for urgent help. Senior Sister’s reply was fast. 【Emotions can’t solve problems. Act immediately. Send a private message to Mr. Wang.】 I froze for a moment, then immediately followed up: 【Say Sarah played dirty tricks, and I didn’t know about the farewell party at all? Then wish Mr. Wang well?】 【No! Say you regret not being able to make it due to something coming up.】 Senior Sister’s sentences were analytical. 【Directly saying ‘colleague played dirty tricks’ sounds like a child tattling. It confirms you have bad popularity and are a victim. You must seize the initiative in your own hands immediately!】 I stared at those words, my fingers slightly cold. Thanking Senior Sister, I opened Mr. Wang’s WeChat. Typed and deleted, finally leaving only the simplest sentences: 【Mr. Wang, seeing the photos of your retirement today, I realized you are officially starting your retirement life. I deeply regret not being able to see you off in person. I still remember when I first joined…】 Checked three times. No typos, tone sincere and brisk. Added two playful emojis, took a deep breath, and clicked send. Putting the phone aside, I anxiously waited for Mr. Wang’s reply. Suddenly the phone vibrated twice. I clicked nervously. It was my boyfriend. 5 【Babe, the weather is nice this weekend. How about we go camping and barbecue in the mountains? You’ve been moody lately, time to recharge!】 I subconsciously refused: 【Can’t this weekend, I have an appointment with Senior Sister.】 Feeling too rigid, I explained: 【It’s about work, asking Senior Sister for advice~】 Boyfriend replied instantly: 【Okay okay okay, my babe is a busy person now!】 【But seriously, you look really cute when you frown and think seriously. When you’re done, I’ll reward you properly!】 A nameless fire surged instantly. After Senior Sister’s nurturing, I can already identify this kind of control: infantalizing and sexualizing the partner, with zero respect. Reasoning with him and demanding respect is useless. Everything is “cute”! Taking a deep breath, I replied: 【Not as petite and cute as you!】 【I’m going to get busy. Be good yourself, ‘little’ cutie.】 Blocked him right after sending. Wait until I finish my business and master the ultimate martial arts, then I’ll deal with you! Just then, Mr. Wang’s message came too. Decent and gentle, attached with two rose emojis. Chatted a few sentences, quit while I was ahead. 6 Spent the weekend in hot springs with Senior Sister, carefree. Returned to work fully recharged. Same work clothes, same colleagues, but the atmosphere felt a bit off. Little Liu couldn’t hold it in and leaned in close to me. “Lily, did you meet some awesome headhunter? Our unit has such good benefits, yet you’re jumping ship directly!” “But really, you didn’t even go to Mr. Wang’s farewell party. You should have at least pretended!” My heart skipped a beat. I asked hurriedly: “How did I not know I was jumping ship? Tell me, who did you hear it from?” Little Liu’s face changed, stammering for a long time. “Just… people in Production were saying it too.” I lost my temper instantly. The news had spread everywhere. Rumors are tricky. Making a big fuss to investigate might not find the source I want. Instead, I’d get a reputation for making a mountain out of a molehill. Leaders would think I lack perspective and look for trouble. The atmosphere in the following regular meeting was also bad. Just as it was my turn to report project progress, Chen from the next project spoke up sarcastically. “Let the boss go first. The Great Miss Zhou looks down on our small temple. The capitalists outside pay more!” The meeting room instantly fell silent. Everyone’s eyes fell on me in unison. I suppressed the fire in my heart, tone calm. “Work is work, don’t bring personal emotions. Recently I’ve been communicating with peers and Senior Sister, and participated in some online exchanges, causing misunderstandings. I can say clearly, even if you leave, I won’t. Engineer Zhang knows this best.” Engineer Zhang, sitting at the head, swept his gaze over Chen, then landed back on my face. Chen lowered his head. Engineer Zhang finally spoke. “Since when did the R&D department become a vegetable market for spreading rumors?” “Little Zhou, report!” My palms sweated slightly. I knew I passed Engineer Zhang’s test. I’ve been working on catalyst formula optimization, often consulting Engineer Zhang on ideas and new technologies, just haven’t had results yet. No one in R&D will gossip anymore. I pressed the clicker. Experimental data, comparison curves, optimization hypotheses… My voice was steady, even clearer than usual. Engineer Zhang nodded. “Very good. The idea is feasible. Continue.”

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Married for three years, I ran into my runaway ex-fiancé outside my OB-GYN appointment. “Nina, are you still mad? I’m back to marry you.” Declan blocked my path, as arrogant and self-assured as ever. I instinctively shielded my stomach, my eyes filled with confusion. “Excuse me, sir, do I know you…?” He let out a patronizing sigh. “Alright, you can stop the act. Wendy is afraid of the dark, and she needed me to stay with her in the Arctic for three years before she was ready to come back.” “The moment it was over, I flew straight back to find you. You should be flattered.” I looked at the “wild man” before me, with his scraggly beard and frostbitten face. Seriously, where did he get this confidence? Did no one tell him that the day after he left me at the altar, I married his powerful, influential uncle? … “Nina, stop messing around. Come home with me.” Declan frowned, reaching out to grab my arm. His hand was covered in sores, the fingernails caked with some unidentifiable grime. A faint, stale fishy smell wafted from him. I flinched back, covering my nose and mouth. My stomach churned. “Don’t touch me! I’m a germaphobe.” Declan’s hand froze mid-air, his face instantly darkening. He probably still thought of himself as the dashing young heir to the Crawford fortune. He had no idea that after three years in the Arctic Circle, his unshaven, chapped-skin appearance made him look like a caveman. “Nina! That’s enough!” Declan snapped, his voice edged with anger. “I know you’re mad I ran out on our wedding, mad that I went to the Arctic with Wendy, but she was dealing with psychological trauma!” “She’s afraid of the dark! The aurora borealis was the only thing that could cure her. Can’t you have a little compassion for someone else’s suffering?” I almost laughed out loud. Afraid of the dark? And you cure that by going to the Arctic, where the polar night lasts for half the year? Wendy’s illness sounded like it needed a dose of common sense, not the Northern Lights. Before I could say anything, Wendy peeked out from behind him. She took off a pair of heavy goggles, revealing red-rimmed eyes. “Nina,” she said, looking at me with pitiable eyes. “Don’t blame Declan.” “It’s all my fault. My health is just so poor, I can’t be left alone. If you need to hit someone, hit me. Don’t work yourself up.” As she spoke, she let out a few fake coughs and swayed, collapsing dramatically into Declan’s arms. Declan, consumed with worry, wrapped his arms around her and shot me a furious glare. “Nina, it’s been three years. Haven’t you grown up at all? Still so jealous. How do you ever expect to marry into the Crawford family acting like this?” I rolled my eyes. Did these two freeze their brains in the Arctic? This was the entrance to the obstetrics and gynecology department. I was here for a prenatal check-up. And they, having just returned to the country, hadn’t even showered before rushing to the hospital to… get their heads checked? I shielded my belly and stared at the bizarre pair. “Declan, I think you’ve made a mistake.” “I’m not here to welcome you back, and I have no time to play out some long-lost lovers reunion scene.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, get out of my way.” Declan was stunned. He probably never imagined that the timid Nina who used to follow him around like a puppy would ever have the nerve to call him out like that. He narrowed his eyes, and his gaze fell on my swollen belly. His pupils contracted sharply. Then, a look of incredulous joy spread across his face. “Nina… you’re pregnant? Is it mine?” He was trembling, a sure sign his frostbite was acting up. “I knew it! I knew you couldn’t live without me! That night, three years ago…” “I was drunk, but I vaguely remember we…” He seemed to be lost in some self-aggrandizing fantasy. “No wonder you were waiting for me here. No wonder you never remarried…” “Nina, you’ve been through so much. You kept my baby a secret all this time, just to surprise me, didn’t you?” I was floored by his logic. Three years. It takes three years to birth a mythological deity, not a human child. Had he ever read a book? Did he have even a basic understanding of human biology? “Declan, besides watching the aurora, did you also happen to freeze your brain into a slushie?” I pointed at my stomach, exasperated. “I’m only five months along. You’ve been gone for three years. Did you impregnate me via telepathy?” The smile on Declan’s face froze. He stared at my belly as if trying to solve a complex math problem. Three years minus five months equals… No matter how he calculated it, the child couldn’t possibly be his, but he clearly refused to accept it. “Impossible! Who else would you marry? Everyone in this city knows you’re the woman Declan Crawford cast aside! Who would dare marry you?” Wendy chimed in, fanning the flames. “That’s right, Nina. Don’t just find some random guy to have a bastard with just to spite Declan.” “You’ll not only ruin yourself but also bring shame to your family.” “If you just admit your mistake and get rid of this child, Declan loves you so much, he’ll definitely forgive you.” Hearing this, Declan immediately put on a magnanimous air. “That’s right, Nina. If you get rid of this bastard and come home with me, I can pretend none of this ever happened.” “After all, I was the one who left you at the altar. I made you suffer. We’ll call it even.” I took a deep breath, my fists clenched. I really wanted to smack both of these delusional narcissists. Just then, a black Maybach pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, revealing the stern face of our driver, Mr. Henderson. “Ma’am, Mr. Blackwood is still in a meeting. He asked me to take you home first.” Declan’s eyes lit up. “See! And you said you weren’t waiting for me!” “That’s the Crawford family car! Even Henderson is here!” Declan pushed past me and, pulling Wendy along, tried to get into the car. As he walked, he continued to lecture me. “Alright, stop pretending. You obviously had the family driver come to give me a proper welcome back.” “This car is a bit old for my current status, but since it’s a gesture from you, I’ll condescend to ride in it this once.” His actions startled Mr. Henderson. He stared at the foul-smelling man bundled up like an Eskimo, not recognizing him at first. “Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing? If you’re begging, go somewhere else! Don’t get the master’s car dirty!” Declan’s face turned beet-red. “Henderson! Are you blind? It’s me, Declan! The Crawford heir!” Mr. Henderson paused, then seemed to recognize his tone. “Master Declan?” he asked, his voice full of doubt. “Did you… take up coal mining in the Arctic? Why do you look like this?” Declan was shaking with rage. “Cut the crap! Open the door! Wendy’s freezing!” He tried to force the car door open. Wendy added, “Mr. Henderson, Declan is the sole heir of the Crawford family. How can you speak to him like that?” But Mr. Henderson just locked the doors with a resounding click, his expression one of pure disdain. “Master Declan, I’m afraid you can’t ride in this car.” “Mr. Blackwood has a thing about cleanliness. With that smell on you, I’d have to spend three days cleaning it. Besides, I’m here to pick up the madam. I don’t have time to chauffeur you.” Declan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The madam? Nina hasn’t even married into the family, and you’re already calling her that? Grandfather is spoiling her rotten!” He turned to me, his eyes full of accusation. “Nina, did you bribe Henderson? Did you get him to play along with this charade?” “Let me tell you, putting on airs like this before you’re even married… you’re in for a rough time once you join the family!” I ignored him and walked to the rear passenger door. Mr. Henderson’s expression immediately changed to one of respectful deference. He got out and opened the door for me, carefully shielding the top of the doorframe with his hand. “Ma’am, please be careful.” I got into the car, and the window slid up, sealing me off from the cold air and those two nauseating faces. Declan was still outside, banging on the window. “Nina! Get out! I am the Crawford heir! I should be riding in this car!” “Where is Wendy supposed to sit? She’s so frail!” The car began to move. I lowered the window a crack and shot back coldly, “If she’s so frail, she should go to the emergency room. And don’t bother going to the Crawford estate. There’s nothing for you there.” I raised the window. The Maybach sped away, leaving them in a cloud of exhaust fumes. In the rearview mirror, I saw Declan kick a nearby trash can in a fit of rage, then hop around on one foot like a pathetic clown. When I got back to the estate, I had just changed my clothes when the two of them arrived. I have no idea how they got in. The guards probably saw a faint resemblance in his ruined face and didn’t dare stop him completely. As soon as he entered the living room, Declan plopped down on the sofa like he owned the place. The pristine leather was instantly smeared with mud. The butler, Mr. Wallace, frowned. “Master Declan, you’re…” Declan waved a dismissive hand, adopting the air of the man of the house. “Wallace, go prepare some bird’s nest soup for Wendy. The finest quality, and add extra sugar. She doesn’t like bitter things.” “And get me a clean set of clothes. This gear is too heavy.” Wendy huddled beside him like a frightened quail. “Declan, maybe this isn’t a good idea… I don’t think Nina likes me very much…” Declan sneered. “This is the Crawford estate. I am the future master of this house! Who is Nina to give me attitude before she’s even married in?” “Just wait until Grandfather gets home. I’ll tell him everything!” Just as he was speaking, I came downstairs in a loose-fitting lounge dress, holding a glass of warm milk.

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To make Caleb Vance happy, I, a pampered heiress, learned how to race cars. To catch his eye, I drifted through traffic, drew a heart on the pavement with gasoline, and set my $3 million hypercar on fire—just to see him smile. My father, furious, sent me away on a “humble pie” reality show, banishing me to the mountains to dig potatoes for six months. When I crawled back home, dusty and humbled, I heard Caleb had fallen in love with the scholarship student I swapped lives with. At my welcome-back party, Caleb publicly shielded the girl, frowning coldly: “Ava, enough is enough. I love her.” Nosy reporters shoved microphones in my face. “Miss Ava Locke, everyone knows you love Mr. Vance more than life itself. Now that he’s moved on, are you as devastated as rumors say?” The internet waited for my breakdown. Instead, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “Love him more than life? Since when?” 1 After I spoke, the room went dead silent. A reporter shoved a microphone in my face: “Miss Locke, were you speaking out of anger just now?” I smiled. “It’s the truth.” “Then what do you think about Mr. Vance and Miss Bella’s relationship…” “I wish them the best,” I raised my champagne glass towards them. “A perfect match.” Caleb’s face darkened. He probably didn’t expect this reaction. In the past, I would have smashed glasses, screamed, and publicly demanded to know why he changed his heart. Bella spoke up in a soft, timid voice: “Sister, please don’t be angry, it’s my fault…” “It’s not your fault,” I interrupted her, turning directly to the buffet table to grab a slice of cake. My phone buzzed. Unknown number, one text: Enjoying the show? I deleted it. No need to guess who it was. Jax. My real lover, kept secret from everyone for three years. He knew about tonight. He knew how I should be feeling. Over by my parents, they saw Bella’s eyes turn red and immediately hugged her in distress: “Child, you’ve suffered…” My father patted Caleb on the shoulder: “Your parents talked to me. Treat Bella well.” Only then did they look at me. “Ava,” my mother’s tone was complicated, “Go easy on Bella. She hasn’t had it easy. You know her family situation…” Father sighed: “Let’s go home. Stop making a scene.” Bella timidly came over to tug my sleeve: “Sister, let’s go home together…” I pulled my hand back. “You go ahead. I have something to do.” Caleb immediately blocked my path: “Where are you going now? Racing? Drinking? Ava, stop messing around.” “Work,” I showed him my schedule on my phone screen. “Meeting someone about an investment.” He looked like he heard a joke: “What investment? Weren’t you digging potatoes in the suburbs for six months…” “Digging potatoes?” I finished his sentence, looking at him. “I wasn’t just digging potatoes these past six months.” In the underground garage, Caleb cornered me. “Ava, what exactly do you want?” I unlocked my car door. “Nothing.” “Why are you pretending?” He grabbed the door, stopping me from closing it. “Don’t come crying to me tomorrow, chasing me asking why…” “Cry?” I laughed. “Caleb, people grow up.” He froze, as if really looking at my face for the first time. But he had looked at this face for ten years. Ten years. I grew my hair long for him because he said “girls look better with long hair.” I changed my temper for him because he thought it was “embarrassing.” Even when he held his new love and told me “Ava, stop it,” I only asked “why” with red eyes. What did he say then? Oh, right. He said: “You’re always so childish.” “Bella is nice,” I sat in the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Obedient, listens well, treats you like her whole world. You two are a good match.” His face turned ashen: “What do you mean?” “I mean,” I started the engine, “I’m tired.” “Chasing you for ten years was pretty boring.” As I drove away, his figure grew smaller in the rearview mirror. I dialed the number I knew by heart. “Seen enough?” I asked. A low chuckle came from the other end: “This is just the beginning, my Ava.” “Sticking to the plan?” he asked. “Yeah.” “Let them be happy for a few more days.” I hung up. That night, I returned to the Locke mansion to find my room had been turned into Bella’s piano room. Mother held my hand, explaining: “Ava, you’re rarely home anyway. Bella likes to play piano, and this room has the best light…” I said nothing, dragging out the prepared cardboard boxes from under the bed and packing my things. When I took the photos off the wall, the backs were already yellowed. Bella stood at the door wiping tears: “Sister, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “It’s fine,” I stuffed a frame into the bottom of the box. “As long as you like it.” Father couldn’t watch anymore: “Ava, there’s an empty room on the third floor…” “No need,” I smiled. “My apartment is more convenient.” Caleb was there too. He frowned at me: “Ava, don’t act like a victim.” I picked up the box, frowning slightly: “I’m not acting.” He choked. Bella immediately whispered: “Caleb, don’t yell at Sister…” Caleb’s tone instantly softened: “Don’t be scared, Bella. I’m here.” I watched them being affectionate and silently carried my box downstairs. Mother chased after me, stopping me at the stair landing: “Ava, Mom doesn’t love you less, it’s just that Bella…” “I know,” I turned to look at her. “Mom, as long as you’re happy.” I had said this many times. When she praised the neighbor’s daughter for being well-behaved, I said: “Mom, as long as you’re happy.” When she praised my cousin’s grades, I said: “Mom, as long as you’re happy.” It seemed as long as I was sensible enough, I could exchange it for a little love. But now it was different. Looking at the panic and guilt in her eyes, I suddenly found it laughable. So she always knew she was biased, yet expected me to swallow all the grievances myself. “Mom,” I smiled, “actually you don’t need to explain to me, because I’m not sad at all.” She froze. “Because now I know,” I pulled my hand back, “it’s not that I’m not good enough.” “It’s that your love is too cheap.” When I turned and walked downstairs, my steps were lighter than ever before. 2 The next morning, when I went to the old house to pick up things, Bella “accidentally” broke the jade bracelet my grandmother left me. That was my grandmother’s legacy. The bracelet broke into three pieces, hitting the marble floor with a sharp, crisp sound. Bella immediately cried like a pear blossom bathed in rain: “Sister, I’m sorry… my hand slipped, I didn’t mean to…” Caleb immediately shielded her: “It’s just a bracelet, Ava, don’t make a scene.” Mother rushed over too, glanced at the pieces, and sighed: “Ava, Mom will buy you a new one. Bella didn’t mean to.” Father frowned: “Alright, everyone say less.” I didn’t speak, squatting down to pick up the pieces one by one. The jade edges were sharp, and blood soon beaded on my fingertips. “It’s fine,” I said calmly, then stood up. “Out with the old, in with the new. Just like people.” Before Bella could react, I walked to the antique piano she cherished most. It was a gift Mother just gave her last month. As soon as the words fell, I grabbed the piano stool and smashed it onto the keys. CRASH! As she screamed and rushed over, I grabbed the photo frame she had just placed on the piano cover. Inside was a picture of her and Caleb. “This,” I let go right in front of her face, “also slipped.” The shattering sound was crisp and piercing. Caleb wanted to step forward but I stopped him with a raised hand: “What’s the rush? I’m not done.” I turned to my pale-faced parents: “Dad, Mom, all these years I’ve been wondering if I wasn’t good enough, which is why you always looked at other people’s children.” “Now I understand, it’s you who don’t deserve a good child.” I picked up my bag from the floor, walked past Bella, and whispered: “A counterfeit will never be the real thing.” “Just like you. Even if you live in the Locke house, deep down you’re still that pathetic creature who has to lie to be loved.” As I left, behind me was Bella’s breakdown of screams and sobs. I texted Jax: “Ready for the next step.” He replied instantly: “Been ready.” I looked up at the sky. The sky in the city was gray, much like my ten years in the Locke family. But soon, I would see the real light. On my birthday, the Locke family threw a grand banquet. The gold lettering on the invitation read: “Inviting you to the Homecoming Dinner of the Locke Family’s Second Daughter, Bella.” Not my birthday party, but Bella’s recognition party. I was coerced into attending. At the banquet, she played the piano in a million-dollar haute couture gown, winning a house full of applause. Guests whispered: “This is what a Locke daughter should look like.” Someone whispered: “Isn’t today Ava’s birthday?” Mother heard it and smiled awkwardly: “Ah yes… Ava, come, cut the cake.” The cake was a three-tier pink fondant cake, the style Bella chose. Pink, the color I had hated since childhood. Caleb fed Bella a small piece: “Sweet?” Bella nodded, eyes curving into crescents: “Sweet. Caleb, you eat too.” I put down the knife and told my parents: “I’m full.” As I turned to leave, I heard someone behind me say: “Ava has such a weird temper, no wonder Caleb chose Bella.” I scoffed. Who cares? Walking to the parking lot, I remembered my eighteenth birthday. Caleb promised to be with me but flew to the beach to watch the sunrise with an escort instead. I waited in the karaoke room until dawn. He sent a photo of the sunrise with the caption: “So beautiful.” I replied: “Didn’t you promise to spend my birthday with me?” He replied a long time later: “?” That day, my parents were on a business trip. I lit a candle alone at home and cried while making a wish. No one remembered me. The parking lot lights were dim. Jax straddled a black motorcycle, long legs touching the ground. Seeing me, he tossed over a helmet: “Let’s go. Taking you to eat a real birthday cake.” I caught the helmet, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my face against his back. This was the first time someone remembered I was the main character on my birthday. Three days later, Caleb came to my apartment. “Ava, let’s talk.” I let him in. He looked around my small apartment, frowning slightly. “Bella wants to work at Locke Corp,” he said directly. “Arrange it.” “What position?” “Yours,” he paused, “or at least equal to yours.” I laughed: “Why?” “Because she’s the second Miss Locke now,” he frowned. “Because she needs a sense of security.” “What about me?” “You’re capable,” he said as if it were obvious. “Make your own way again.” I looked at him like he was a stranger: “Caleb, what do you take me for?” “For…” he stalled, “Ava.” “An Ava you can summon and dismiss at will?” He got annoyed: “Stop being unreasonable! Bella…” “She’s pitiful, she’s had it hard, she needs care,” I finished for him. “I know, I’ve heard it eight hundred times.” “So?” I asked calmly. “So I deserve to give up everything? My room, my bracelet, and now even my position?” He was silent for a long time. Then he said: “Ava, I’m begging you.” Ten years. The first time he used the word “beg” with me. It was for another woman. When Mother came to find me, her eyes were swollen like peaches. “Ava, Mom has a favor to ask.” “Say it.” “We plan to transfer the villa in the south to Bella,” tears fell from her eyes. “She says she feels insecure and wants a home of her own…” My heart constricted. That villa was my eighteenth birthday present from my grandfather. He said: “Ava, this will be your safety net.” “Mom, Grandpa left that to me.” “Mom knows,” she held my hand, her palm cold. “But Bella… she suffered too much before, we have to compensate her…” “So I should yield?” I pulled my hand back. “Compensate her with my things?” Mother froze: “Ava, when did you become so cold-blooded?” I looked into her eyes and asked word by word: “Mom, where were you during the six months I was digging potatoes in the mountains?” “I…” “You were with Bella,” I laughed, my eyes burning. “Every day without fail. She called you Mom, and you answered so happily.” Mother’s face turned pale. “I can give the villa,” I stood up and walked to the window. “But this is the last time.” “From now on, don’t ask me for anything else.” She left crying. The moment the door closed, I texted Jax: “My patience is running out.” He replied instantly: “I’m here.” 3 On the day I went back to the Locke house to sign the papers, I stood at the corner of the second-floor stairs, looking down at my phone. “Sister.” I looked up. It was Bella. She stood next to me, grinning: “Sister, look at me.” I frowned in confusion. Suddenly, she leaned back. Thump! She tumbled down the stairs. Caleb rushed over at the sound and saw the scene. Bella lay sprawled on the floor, gasping weakly: “Sister… why did you push me… I just wanted to talk to you…” Caleb turned and slapped me across the face. I fell to the floor, ears ringing, the taste of blood in my mouth. “Ava,” his voice shook violently, unsure if from anger or fear, “I never thought you could be so vicious!” When my parents rushed in, Bella was crying, Caleb was yelling, and I was sitting on the floor wiping blood from my mouth. Mother pointed at me, fingers trembling: “Get out! I don’t have a daughter like you!” I propped myself up against the wall, my left cheek burning with pain. I turned to my mother: “Mom, when I was ten and had a fever of 104, you went with my brother to his piano lesson. The nanny took me to the hospital.” “You never came to a single parent-teacher conference.” “Now,” I wiped the blood from my lip, “for a liar you’ve known for six months, you tell me to get out?” Mother’s face went white. Caleb wanted to speak, but I cut him off: “Caleb, I’ll remember this slap.” “From now on,” I scanned each of them, “none of you will ever take anything from me again.” As I turned, fake sobs came from Bella behind me. I didn’t look back. The last bit of warmth in my heart went completely cold. The entrance to the Locke house was crowded with reporters. Cameras shoved in my face: “Miss Locke, did you push Miss Bella down the stairs?” “Was it out of jealousy?” “Is it true the Locke family is disowning you?” Flashbulbs went off like crazy. No need to guess, she arranged it. Then, a black sports car burst through the crowd, screeching to a halt in front of me. The door opened, and Jax stepped out, black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He walked straight over, put his arm around my shoulder, and spoke coldly to the cameras: “My girlfriend is tired. Move.” The reporters were stunned. Someone reacted: “Mr. Vance? You and Miss Locke…” Jax held my shoulder and smiled at the camera: “Let me introduce you properly. My fiancée, Ava Locke.” He waved his hand, and the trunks of nine sports cars parked by the road opened simultaneously, revealing a sea of red roses. The hood of the middle car had “Ava” spelled out in giant roses. “We’ve been together for three years,” Jax looked down at me, eyes tender. “We planned to go public later, but someone seems to misunderstand that my girlfriend is unwanted?” Just then, the door to the Locke villa opened. Caleb walked out supporting the red-eyed Bella, running straight into this sea of roses. He clenched his fists, staring at Jax’s hand on my shoulder. Everyone in the city knew Jax was Caleb’s hated rival, beating him in business and crushing him on the racetrack. “Ava!” Caleb looked panicked, voice trembling. “You and him… since when?” The man who was always composed in front of me now had red-rimmed eyes. He took a step forward but was blocked by Jax’s bodyguards. I didn’t answer, just fiddled with the ring Jax had just put on my hand. A three-carat pink diamond, dazzling with fire. Caleb’s adam’s apple bobbed, voice hoarse: “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Anyone else, why him…” “Why not?” I finally looked up. “Find someone worse than you so you can keep thinking I should be humble without you?” He stumbled back. Bella tried to support him, but he flung her off. I’d seen that look before. Three years ago, when he misunderstood that I was eating with someone else, it was this same anger of betrayal. I took the rose Jax handed me, smelled it, then turned and threw it at Bella’s feet in front of everyone. “Sister,” I smiled brightly, “you want the man I used, so I’ll give you the flower I don’t want too.” Bella’s face was ugly. Reporters snapped photos frantically. Jax chuckled in my ear: “Happy?” I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, whispering: “Not bad. Let’s go, fiancé.” The crowd instinctively parted. 4 In the hilltop villa, Jax tended to my wound. His hand shook as the swab with medicine brushed the corner of my mouth. “I should have come sooner,” his voice was raspy. “Just right,” I pulled at the corners of my swollen mouth. “Any earlier and they wouldn’t have finished their performance.” He put down the swab and cupped my face: “How do you want to play it next?” I opened my phone and pulled up three files. Jax read them and laughed. “I want them,” I said softly, “to kneel and beg for my forgiveness.” The press conference was set for three days later. Jax sent the invitations himself. The title was explosive enough. Grand Vance Group Cooperation & Personal Announcement The venue was packed. As Jax led me onto the stage hand in hand, he announced into the mic: “First, Vance Group will enter a deep strategic partnership with Miss Ava Locke personally.” “Second,” he paused, looking at me sideways, eyes shining, “we are engaged.” Dead silence for a second, then the room exploded. “Mr. Vance! When did you and Miss Locke get together?!” Jax held my waist, smiling arrogantly: “Three years.” “Then Mr. Caleb and Miss Bella…” “Him?” Jax sneered. “Just a blind man who can’t tell a pearl from a fish eye.” Just then, the venue doors were slammed open. Caleb rushed in, suit messy, eyes bloodshot. As Jax led me off stage, passing Caleb, I stopped. “By the way,” I whispered, for his ears only, “the financial hole in your company can never be filled.” His pupils contracted sharply. The day after the evidence was mailed, the city nearly flipped upside down. Headline: “Humble Pie” Reality Show Participant Revealed as Real Illegitimate Child!? The diary stated in black and white: “Bella is Locke’s daughter. I didn’t want her to go back, but the Lockes are rich. Bella needs to acknowledge this father to have a good life…” Mother fainted on the spot seeing the newspaper. Father locked himself in the study for three days. Bella called Caleb like crazy: “Caleb, it’s fake! Someone is trying to harm me!” For the first time, Caleb didn’t believe her. Silence on the phone, then he asked: “Bella, tell me the truth. Are you really Uncle Locke’s illegitimate daughter?” “I…” she broke down crying, “I… I didn’t know about their affairs, but that’s not important, right? I love you, Caleb, isn’t that enough?!” Caleb hung up. The Locke family’s capital chain completely broke. Banks called eight times a day, three key projects halted simultaneously, suppliers blocked the company doors demanding money. Father Locke swallowed his pride to beg my father. My father smiled bitterly: “Old Locke, it’s not that I won’t help, but the one who can save the Locke family now… might be Ava.” “Ava?” “The cooperation with Vance Group is personal to her,” Father sighed. “The resources she holds now are more than the entire Locke Group.” When they found me, I was practicing driving at Jax’s private track. Caleb stood by the car, suit wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes. He lowered his voice: “Ava, help the Locke family.” I took the water Jax handed me, took a sip: “Why should I?” “For the sake of our ten years…” “Ten years you treated me as a backup,” I interrupted, screwing the cap tight. “Now you want me to be a savior?” Father Locke stepped forward, tearful: “Ava, Uncle knows he was wrong. We wronged you before…” “The wrong one is your son,” I looked at Caleb. “Caleb, what do you offer in exchange?” His throat moved: “What do you want? Money? Shares?” “I want you,” I smiled, “to kneel and beg me.” The air solidified. Caleb stared at me, eyes red as blood. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Then, he turned and walked away. But his mother came. At the hospital entrance, Mother Locke knelt down with a thud in front of everyone. “Ava, Auntie begs you… the Locke family can’t fall, it’s generations of blood and sweat…” Onlookers raised their phones to snap photos. I bent down to help her up: “Auntie, whether the Locke family falls depends on your son.” “When he learns how to be a human, I’ll consider helping.”

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This year, the Finance Department achieved a miracle. We saved the company $5 million in taxes through legitimate planning and recovered $30 million in bad debts. The night before the Annual Gala, the CEO ordered us to withdraw $8 million in cash and stack it in the main conference room. He specifically assigned the Finance Department to guard it overnight. “Gwen, thank you all for your hard work tonight. Tomorrow at the Gala, I have prepared a special, exclusive grand prize for the Finance Department!” That night, guarding $8 million in cash, we didn’t even dare go to the bathroom alone. “Gwen, $8 million smells so good,” the intern, Mia Lopez, whispered, staring at the mountain of cash with stars in her eyes. “Mr. Stone said he prepared a surprise. Do you think it’s a stack for each of us?” I smiled but didn’t answer. Knowing that cheapskate, a $500 bonus would be a miracle. But I never expected the bar to be lowered straight into hell. At the Gala, the Sales Department collected cash in literal sacks. The Top Sales Rep walked away with $300,000. When it was Finance’s turn, the CEO smiled and handed me a cheap device that screamed “Zero! Zero!” in a robotic voice. “The Finance Department works the hardest, always dealing with numbers,” he announced. “Here, a brand new calculator for each of you! Calculate faster, work less overtime!” 1 “Beep—Zero! Zero!” The crowd erupted in laughter, the sound nearly lifting the roof. Sales Director Rob Thorne laughed the loudest, clutching his sack of cash and pointing at us: “Mr. Stone really knows how to pick a gift!” “Let the finance ladies clear last year’s accounts to zero! Start fresh next year—more work, less nitpicking!” This was the “exclusive grand prize” Victor Stone promised. This was the “surprise” we earned by guarding cash all night until our bladders nearly burst. Last night, after hours, the building management turned off the heating. The conference room was 14 degrees Fahrenheit. To guard the $8 million he wanted to use to “flex his power,” the five of us huddled in surplus coats, taking turns staring at the cash, afraid to even blink. Mia, the intern, fell asleep on a stack of bills and drooled. She woke up terrified, thinking she’d be fined for soiling the money. My deputy, John Carter, has a severe herniated disc. He sat on a tiny stool all night and couldn’t walk straight this morning. We guarded a mountain of gold, only to receive a public execution. “Mr. Stone.” I took a step forward to the microphone. The laughter died down slightly, but the malicious gazes still pricked my skin. Victor Stone looked at me with a smile full of mockery: “What’s wrong, Gwen Bennett? Too excited? No need to thank me. It’s a small token from the company. A workman must sharpen his tools to do his work well, right?” “We don’t want tokens. We want fairness.” I stared at him, suppressing the rage in my chest. “This year, Finance saved the company $5 million in taxes through legal compliance.” “Last month, our entire department spent two weeks in the snow to recover $30 million in bad debts. We were bitten by dogs, splashed with water.” “Sales took a 5% commission. They deserved it; they are heroes.” “But what about us?” “We guarded $8 million in cash all night, and we get a $1.99 calculator?” The room went silent for a few seconds. The smile on Stone’s face faded. He spoke slowly: “Gwen, your math is wrong.” He picked up the mic, speaking earnestly to the whole room: “Finance works hard, sure. But you need to understand the logic.” “Sales is on the front line fighting the war. They are the ones feeding the company!” “And Finance? You are the nannies in the back. The money belongs to the company. The bad debts were recovered because Legal is intimidating. The tax savings are thanks to government policy.” “You just moved your fingers and pressed a few buttons. And you want a million-dollar commission?” “Should I give the receptionist shares because she presses the elevator button for me every day?” Laughter exploded again. This time, it was unrestrained and full of malice. “Exactly! Finance always has a long face, making reimbursement so hard. And they want commission?” “Mr. Stone is right. They’re just bean counters. No production, yet they want to split the money? Crazy!” The humiliation slapped me across the face. I felt my colleagues behind me reach their breaking point. I heard Mia sniffle. “Fine.” I nodded and slammed the calculator onto the podium. “Since Mr. Stone thinks we only know how to press buttons, this gift is too expensive for us.” I turned to the red-eyed women behind me. “Let’s go.” 2 Walking out of the hotel into the cold wind, I realized my back was soaked in cold sweat. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold it back…” Mia squatted by the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. “My mom’s surgery is next week…” “The doctor said we need $15,000. I thought… I thought this bonus would be at least $5,000. With my savings, it would be enough…” “Stop crying.” Sarah Jenkins, a senior accountant, dug tissues out of her bag and roughly wiped Mia’s tears, her own hands shaking. “Who are you crying for? Didn’t you hear Rob Thorne and his goons? We are parasites!” “But Sarah…” Mia looked up, her makeup ruined. “That $5 million tax plan… you made so many versions to get it right. The $30 million debt… Gwen led us to hell and back to get it…” “How does it have nothing to do with us?” “When we signed the commitment letter, Mr. Stone promised us 1% commission.” I stood silently, lighting a cigarette. He agreed so easily back then probably because he was sure we couldn’t do it. Ding. A phone lit up. It was a notification on Sarah’s phone: Tuition Payment Reminder. She panicked and turned off the screen, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll figure out the money.” I looked back at the hotel. “What belongs to us, no one can take away. Go home and sleep. Tomorrow, show up on time.” The next morning, I arrived an hour early. Victor Stone’s office door was ajar. Inside, smoke swirled, and laughter boomed. “Mr. Stone, that move last night was brilliant!” “Those Finance b*tches turned green! Hahahaha!” “About time we took them down a peg. Always blocking my reimbursements. Now they’ll behave.” “Hmph, bunch of misers. Blocking me from using my own money.” Stone’s voice was cold. “If they weren’t still somewhat useful, I’d say even that $1.99 was a waste.” “By the way, how’s the ‘Cloud Finance’ AI system deal going with Mr. Fisher?” “Done!” “Service fee is only $20,000 a year. Way cheaper than feeding these idlers!” “And it’s AI. It listens, doesn’t talk back!” I stood at the door, my hand freezing on the handle. So that’s it. Not to liven up the atmosphere, not a whim. It was a premeditated slaughter of the donkey after it turned the mill. Humiliate us to force us to quit so he can save on the severance package. I pushed the door open. The laughter cut off instantly. Seeing me, the surprise on Stone’s face turned to impatience. “Don’t know how to knock? Where are your manners?” Rob Thorne leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, looking at me with amusement: “Yo, Director Bennett is here?” “What, calculator broke? Want Sales to pool money for a new one?” I ignored the mad dog and walked straight to Stone’s desk, placing my hands on it and staring him down. “Mr. Stone, since you think Finance is useless, we won’t be an eyesore anymore.” “Here is our compensation plan. Severance plus the promised commission for the bad debts. Not a penny less.” “Sign it, and we leave immediately to make room for your AI.” I slammed the list I printed last night onto the desk. Stone glanced at the number, his eye twitching. “$300,000 commission? Gwen, are you robbing me?” “Is it a lot?” I sneered. “Yesterday Rob took $300,000 alone. We are asking for five people. Compared to the $30 million we recovered, this is peanuts.” “That’s the company’s money!” Stone slammed his cup on the table. “Gwen, don’t be ungrateful. Want to leave? Fine! Write a resignation letter and get out! Want severance? In your dreams!” “So there’s no negotiation?” 3 “Negotiate? What right do you have to negotiate with me?” Stone stood up, grabbing a stack of files and throwing them at me. “Believe it or not, I’ll have security throw you out right now!” “Public insubordination, terrible attitude.” “You’re fired! Without a cent!” Rob sneered from the side: “Hear that? Get lost. Don’t embarrass yourself further!” I looked at Stone’s face and suddenly smiled. The smile made him pause. “Mr. Stone, you might have forgotten one thing.” I said softly. “Accountants love keeping records. And we are experts at… auditing old accounts.” “If you want to do this cleanly, we follow labor laws. If you don’t…” “Then we’ll help you recall exactly how those $5 million in taxes were ‘planned’.” I turned and left without looking at his changing face. Back in Finance, the atmosphere was oppressive. Everyone’s computer screens were black. “Gwen…” Mia ran over, crying. “I can’t log in. Account frozen.” “And Admin just came to tell us to pack our personal belongings by today…” “Don’t panic.” I patted her shoulder. “Where’s Sarah?” “Small conference room. Director Vance from HR is talking to her.” HR Director Linda Vance. The woman who always smiles and preaches “family culture” was now acting as Stone’s executioner. I pushed open the conference room door. Sarah Jenkins was huddled in a corner, hair messy, looking ten years older. Linda sat opposite her, twirling a pen. Two strangers in black suits sat nearby. “…Accountant Jenkins, think clearly.” Linda’s voice was gentle as always. “This is embezzlement. Falsifying accounts.” “If the company pursues this, you not only have to pay back all wages but also go to jail for a few years.” “Your son is taking his SATs soon, right? If his file says his mom is a convict, his life is ruined.” “Stop! Stop it!” Sarah covered her ears, breaking down. “I’ll sign! I’ll sign voluntary resignation! Please don’t call the police!” “That’s right.” Linda smiled and pushed a document forward. “Wait!” I rushed over, snatched the document, and tore it in half. “Linda, who are you scaring?” I stood in front of Sarah, glaring at her. “Those accounts were authorized by Stone’s signature!” “To evade taxes, he made Sarah split that business into five shell companies. His signature is on every process sheet!” Linda glanced at me with disdain, slowly brushing off the paper scraps. “Gwen, I knew you’d be trouble.” She waved her hand, and the two suits stood up, blocking us. Linda pulled another document from her folder and threw it at me. “You can refuse to sign. You can sue.” “But let me remind you, the legal representative of those shell companies is that little cashier who left your department six months ago.” “Can you, the finance manager, stay clean?” “As for Stone’s signature… do you have proof it’s original? I can print as many of those as I want.” My heart sank. So they were waiting for me here. That cashier was Stone’s distant relative. She left six months ago. The trap was set back then. They buried all the mines under Finance. Once detonated, we are the perfect scapegoats. “And,” Linda leaned in close. “The AI finance team has taken over the backend data. All operation logs on your computers have been wiped. Gwen, what are you going to fight the company with?” 4 Sarah grabbed my sleeve: “Gwen, forget it… we can’t win…” “I can’t go to jail. My son has such good grades…” At the door, Mia and the others heard everything, their faces ashen. Against a company with hundreds of employees and billions in turnover. Are we accountants really just ants to be crushed? Linda watched my expression and smiled with satisfaction. “Tomorrow morning at 9 AM, All-Hands Meeting.” “Mr. Stone will announce the restructuring decision for Finance.” “Gwen, I give you one night to think. Take your salary and leave with dignity, or be ruined and go to federal prison. Your choice.” She left with her men. Only Sarah’s sobbing remained in the room. “Gwen, what do we do?” Mia held my hand, her voice trembling. “Are we really going to jail?” I looked at these comrades who had gone through hell with me. Some got ulcers checking accounts, some were nearly beaten collecting debts, some sacrificed family time without complaint. Now, they were being pushed off a cliff by their own people. “Don’t cry.” “Sarah, do you remember which account the $30 million bad debt was paid into?” Sarah froze, looking up with teary eyes: “It… it went into the general account at Chase Bank. Why?” “No.” I shook my head. “When I negotiated, because the other party didn’t trust Stone’s character, I added a clause in the supplementary agreement.” Mia stopped crying, eyes wide: “What clause?” “Fund Supervision and Final Confirmation Clause.” I explained. “On the books, the balance is there. But the actual status is ‘Frozen Pending Confirmation.’ Stone, that nouveau riche, only looks at numbers, not status. He thinks the money is his.” “According to the agreement, the funds must be system-confirmed by our finance manager before the end of the seventh business day, or they will be returned to the sender.” I looked at the clock. “Tomorrow is the seventh day.” “If I don’t operate by 10 AM tomorrow…” “That $30 million will go ding and fly back to their pocket.” Sarah gasped: “But… but Stone thinks the money is already his! I heard he ordered a Bentley…” “Exactly.” “He thinks he won. He thinks he kicked us out and doesn’t have to pay commission?” “Tomorrow 9 AM, All-Hands Meeting, right?” “Good.” “We’ll use that meeting to teach Mr. Stone a lesson on Financial Risk Control.” The next day, the large conference room was packed. The atmosphere was hotter than the Gala. Rumors that Finance was getting fired en masse, maybe even jailed, had spread. My team and I were seated in the front row, the most conspicuous spot. Reserved for “sinners.” Victor Stone stood on stage, high-spirited, his custom suit making him look almost human. Rob Thorne sat nearby, gloating. Linda Vance was busy distributing documents—pre-written “Confessions of Violation.” On the big screen, bold words read: [Notification Regarding Severe Violations and Personnel Adjustments in Finance Department] “Colleagues,” Stone cleared his throat, voice booming. “It pains me to call this meeting. I have always treated people well, but I never expected there to be traitors in our team!” He pointed at us. “Gwen Bennett and others in Finance abused their positions, repeatedly violated regulations, and are suspected of falsifying accounts and embezzling company assets!” “After a thorough investigation, the evidence is conclusive!” The crowd gasped. “You never know a person’s heart. Their hands are dirty, yet they use rules to block us!” “Tsk tsk, no wonder they wanted bonuses without performance. Appetite grew too big.” Stone was satisfied with the effect. He continued: “For the healthy development of the company, to enforce discipline, the company has decided to immediately fire all involved personnel in Finance! And reserves the right to pursue legal responsibility!” “Of course,” He put on a magnanimous air. “Considering they are old employees, as long as they sign the confession on the spot, admit their mistakes, and return illegal gains, the company may consider not handing them over to the authorities.” Linda placed a “Confession” in front of me. “Sign it, Gwen. This is your last chance.”

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