Category: English

After the extreme heat apocalypse hit and temperatures soared to 175 degrees Fahrenheit, everyone scrambled to relocate to the Antarctic shelters. My mother is a prominent research scientist, and my father is a well-known entrepreneur. Tickets to the shelter were worth their weight in gold and nearly impossible to get, yet my family had three. Three days before departure, a reporter interviewed my parents with a look of deep admiration: “I never expected that Professor Vance and CEO Sterling would choose to leave their biological daughter behind and give the last ticket to their adopted daughter.” I thought he was joking. “That’s not true. My parents told me to pack my bags long ago; they are taking me with them.” “Then did they give you the ticket?!” The reporter’s single sentence left me stunned. My parents coughed, looking a bit guilty: “Chloe, the first batch of evacuees are all people who have made valuable contributions to society.” “Mia joined the laboratory through her hard work, and your achievements are certainly not equal to hers.” “You are our biological daughter, so we must avoid any appearance of nepotism.” My parents chose to abandon me and take my adopted sister with them. Looking at the three of them, my smile was bitter. Avoid nepotism. Then I’ll grant their wish. I snatched the three tickets, tore them up, chewed them into pieces, and swallowed them. Since I can’t go to the shelter, then none of them will go either! 1 Everyone fell silent in an instant. Realizing what had happened, my parents quickly reacted. “We were just giving an example, we didn’t say we were going to abandon you.” The tension broke, and my mother squeezed out a smile. “Yes, don’t take it to heart!” I took a sudden step back, staring fixedly at the two of them. “You really gave the ticket to Mia.” My tone was certain. The moment my words fell, the two of them immediately went quiet. My father’s face darkened, and my mother stepped forward, trying to hold my hand. “This is for your own good.” I pushed her away. “For my own good?” “The temperature is getting higher and higher now. Mia joined the lab three days ago, and you immediately gave her the ticket, terrified that I would get into the shelter.” “Chloe Sterling, we already told you, we must avoid nepotism! Everyone knows you are our biological daughter; we cannot show favoritism towards you!” I looked at my father in utter shock. Without a moment’s hesitation, my father interrupted me with an angry roar. “To set an example for others, you absolutely cannot go with us.” Hearing these words, I was in disbelief. “But those three tickets, the third one was meant for family members!” “How am I inferior to her?!” “Same school, same exams, I’ve always been number one. What’s there to avoid?!” Even without this family connection, I am still outstanding. Look at Mia… “Mia was always at the bottom of the class. How long did you maneuver things to get her into Mom’s lab? If you wanted to avoid nepotism, it shouldn’t have been me!” “You should…” Slap! A forceful slap landed on my face. The one who struck me was my mother. “You’re rebelling against heaven!” My father stepped forward and charged at me; my mother raised her hand again. Until a sobbing sound made the two stop. In front of the reporter, Mia, with red eyes, stopped me. “Chloe, don’t fight with Mom and Dad!” “You’re right, you are the real family; I don’t deserve that ticket at all!” My parents both frowned. My father spoke first. “Mia is no worse than you. You only benefited from your parents, having good educational resources and material conditions, but she is different.” My mother nodded in agreement, looking at me with strong disapproval. “That’s right, no matter how good your grades are, it’s useless. You studied architecture and design, which will be of no help to future research and survival!” “Mia’s parents passed away early, and she has been sensible and obedient since childhood. By getting her into the research institute, we are not just helping her as an individual.” “We are helping the future of the scientific research community.” “Don’t be so selfish!” Selfish? I laughed. “If I’m selfish, why didn’t you let me join the research institute?” “I applied a long time ago.” My parents were stunned. Years ago, I suggested joining the research institute where my mother worked. But whether it was my mother’s institute or my father’s company, both were of one voice, their faces full of disapproval. “If people know about your relationship with us, everyone will think you got in through the back door.” “Even if you compete fairly, no one will believe it.” The words they said back then are still vivid in my mind. But turning around, Mia, following the major chosen by my mother, had a smooth sailing journey and joined the institute directly. My parents looked at me quietly. Filled with disappointment, I sneered, then raised my hand and smashed the family portrait on the table. “Fine, I’m not going.” “Leave all the good opportunities for Mia.” The frame shattered. I stepped on the photo, turned, and wanted to leave. “Wait!” Mia moved. Holding up the things in her hands, she rushed forward and shoved them into my hands. “Chloe, don’t be angry, don’t go!” “The tickets are all here, I’m giving them all to you, I don’t want them!!” Seeing clearly what she gave me, my parents trembled all over, their tone anxious. “Mia, what silly things are you saying!” “We worked so hard for so long to get you into the lab; you must go with us.” “But what about Chloe?!” My parents exchanged a glance, their eyes flickering. “She still has other opportunities. With our status, she can wait for the second batch!” Mia insisted on giving me the tickets. Looking down, I saw three tickets. Mom and Dad actually gave all the tickets to her for safekeeping. Seeing that I had actually taken them, my parents’ expressions changed immediately. “Let go!” “Give the things back to Mia. Look at the gap between you and her.” “You will never be this kind in your life. Being so selfish, you are simply a disgrace to me and your father!” A disgrace? I smiled bitterly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going.” Changing my tone, my face became expressionless. “None of us are going.” Snatching the three tickets, I tore them up, chewed them into pieces, and swallowed them. Having done all this, I immediately rushed out the door. 2 “Chloe Sterling, you’re crazy!!” Screams came from behind; my mother completely lost her calm composure. Smash! A glass hit me hard on the back. My face twisted in pain for a moment, but I didn’t stop walking. My father’s face was dark. He stopped Mia, who wanted to chase after me, and roared. “No one is allowed to chase her!” “Once she leaves, she is not allowed to come back! Stop all her credit cards right now!” “Let’s see how she survives outside without us!” My mouth tasted bitter, and my eyes burned. The news was heavily reporting the apocalyptic high temperatures. After outdoor temperatures soared to 175 degrees Fahrenheit, it caused massive environmental disasters. Metal structures expanded and deformed due to the heat. Along the way, bridges collapsed, road surfaces softened, and various electronic devices overheated and failed. It was the hottest time of the day; no one was walking on the ground outside. Not even a single car could be seen. Hiding under a building, I saw overwhelming news reports flooding the screens. #Sterling Heiress Tears Up Shelter Tickets!# The internet was full of curses. The scene of me tearing up the tickets was edited and posted online. Although it was too hot to go out now, the internet hadn’t been greatly affected yet. This was still just the early stage of the apocalypse. According to previous calculations… While I was zoning out, the video’s views skyrocketed. “Tearing up the shelter tickets and not even leaving them for her parents, she really is selfish!” “Her parents were right. The first batch of refugees are all big shots who contribute to society. She just had a good birth.” “No wonder her own parents didn’t want to take her. This kind of selfish person really deserves to die!” “Thinking that being born with a silver spoon means she has nothing to worry about, she thought wrong!” “In my opinion, that adopted daughter acts more like their biological child than the Sterling heiress. She’s so sensible.” The online sentiment was one-sided. Everyone applauded my parents’ actions, and favorability towards Mia also soared. The occasional one or two questioning voices were quickly suppressed. I smiled bitterly. Actually, over the years, I hadn’t achieved nothing. Long before the extreme heat apocalypse, scholars had calculated the consequences of extreme climate change. After being rejected by my parents from joining the research institute and the company, I chose another major for further studies. But my parents didn’t care about my studies at all. My excellent grades couldn’t even compare to Mia’s bottom-of-the-class report card. They focused all their attention on the child who needed “attention” more. From beginning to end, in their eyes, I was just invisible. I stumbled along the street, lowering my head in the air distorted by the high temperature. I don’t know how much time passed, but my phone suddenly vibrated. It was Mia. I didn’t want to respond, but her single sentence made me freeze in place. “The tickets you tore up were fake.” As I stood frozen, my father updated his Facebook with a group photo. Mia stood between my parents, luggage at their feet, with the Sterling family mansion in the background. The caption read: [Last group photo before departure.] They were leaving. My eyes widened, and my body couldn’t stop trembling. Just as I was speechless, a message suddenly popped up in the chat with my mother. “Chloe Sterling, your father and I found someone to get you a ticket.” “Within three hours, you will leave with us.” My heart pounded. I couldn’t believe it. I read these two sentences over and over again. At the same time, someone online also noticed the photo Mia posted and immediately shared it in the comment section. “Do you guys really believe the tickets were torn up?” “Wake up, with their family’s status, would they just casually take out the tickets?!” “Up to now, us ordinary people haven’t even seen what the tickets look like.” Just as I regained hope and was walking back, the netizen who shared the picture asserted again. “The tickets are still there.” “But the ugly behavior of the Sterling heiress has been completely exposed.” … Covered in sweat, I stood in front of the Sterling mansion, swaying, my eyes fixed on the three people at the door. Looking at my parents, who were ready to go, I spoke slowly. “Dad, Mom, did you really find a fourth ticket?” Stepping ahead to block my parents, Mia revealed a smile. “Of course.” “We’re leaving together.” 3 I didn’t believe it. But my parents didn’t say a word, their eyes full of disappointment. Just as Mia was about to hand me the completely different shelter ticket, my mother held her back and shook her head at her. Turning to me, she had a strange expression on her face. “Chloe, you wasted a spot. Do you know you were wrong?” I almost choked on my breath and widened my eyes slightly. I was wrong? Where exactly was I wrong? This was supposed to be the family ticket reserved for me. What right did Mia have to take what belonged to me through the back door? In the silent air, I could no longer hold back. “I was wrong.” Nodding in admission, I sneered, my gaze slowly sweeping over my parents’ faces. “I was wrong to be your daughter.” “I should have been a stranger.” My parents’ faces instantly froze. The muscles on my father’s face twitched, and he gritted his teeth. “Stubborn and irredeemable!” Pointing at me and cursing loudly, his chest heaving with anger. “Chloe Sterling, if Mia hadn’t pleaded for us to get you another ticket, you wouldn’t be qualified to go with us at all!” “Not only do you not thank her, but you turn around and blame us!” “I think you’ve had it too good!” My mother’s eyes were cold, looking at me without a trace of warmth. “Do you know how guilty Mia felt when you tore up the tickets in public?” “You have no right to blame us, nor do you have the right to blame Mia.” “You only have yourself to blame.” The air was dead silent. Mia’s voice rang out. “Dad, Mom, Chloe must have some misunderstanding about us.” Stepping forward with a face full of worry, she took my father’s arm. “We definitely wouldn’t abandon Chloe!” Looking at me, Mia revealed a smile. Waving the ticket in her hand, she seemingly casually explained. “The first batch of spots in the shelter can’t be bought even with money.” “How could Mom and Dad bring out the real tickets? The ones you tore were fake. Society is in such chaos now, who would dare walk around with real tickets.” Her eyes flickering, her face full of pity, her tone carried a hint of malice. “I almost forgot, you’ve never seen the real tickets, so you didn’t know.” “But it doesn’t matter.” I was speechless. My father glanced at me, his voice icy. “Your mother and I have decided. Once we reach the shelter and this crisis passes, we will let Mia enter the Sterling company.” “And the marriage alliance with the Vance family, Mia will replace you.” “She is more suited to be the daughter of the Sterling family than you.” The things I had worked so hard for, Mia could easily get just by shedding a few tears. Am I really their biological daughter? A metallic taste rose in my throat; I almost couldn’t speak. Looking up in disbelief, I stared at my parents. My wretched state, falling into their eyes, only left them with disgust for me. Numbly lowering my head, I concealed the disappointment in my eyes. “I understand.” Seeing me obedient, the three were finally satisfied. Just as Mia was about to give me the ticket in her hand and leave, my mother suddenly spoke. “Wait.” “The ticket is hers, but she must apologize to Mia for what happened before.” Pinching the ticket in my hand, I found it ridiculous. Apologize? I have to apologize to Mia. “If you want me to apologize, I don’t want this ticket.” Throwing the thing directly on the ground, I spoke decisively. “Are you crazy?!” My mother was exasperated. My father suddenly stepped forward, and Mia quickly grabbed me. “Chloe, in my heart you are my biological sister. Don’t apologize to me.” “Just apologize to Mom and Dad, and it’ll be fine!” “They are our closest family!” Breathing heavily, my mother’s eyes turned red, and she looked at me together with my father. “Chloe Sterling, do you see the gap between you and Mia?!” “You can’t even compare to a tenth of her.” Calmly shaking off Mia’s hand, I was expressionless. “Since I can’t compare, then I won’t.” “You guys go.” Family affection given as charity, I don’t need it. Slap! “Forget about her, let’s go!” Slapping me hard across the face, my father took Mia to the car, and the three of them drove off, leaving me behind. “Let’s see how you live without us!” The ticket was casually thrown back in front of me, and my mother left harsh words. Watching the look in Mia’s eyes as she left, I bent down. After a while, I stood up straight, my eyes cold. “Another fake ticket.” I raised my hand and sent a string of numbers. Then I turned off my phone and silently walked back. Mia was wrong about one thing. The shelter didn’t require tickets to enter at all. 4 Sticking the ticket into my pocket, I slowly walked outwards. Just as I walked out the door, a massive force struck me. A sharp pain in the back of my head, and my vision went black. “That’s her, she has the ticket!” “She’s Chloe Sterling!” Before I fainted, I heard a few angry roars. When I woke up again, I was surrounded by a group of people. The leader, a man with a scar on his face, was fiercely staring at me, holding the item pulled from my pocket. “Damn it, only one ticket! There are so many of us!” “If a parasite like you can go to the shelter, why can’t we!” Echoing voices rang in my ears, and the others rubbed their hands together as they approached me. “Miss Sterling, do us a favor and get us a few tickets.” “They’re gone.” I refused directly. The next second, I was kicked to the ground. My phone was thrown in front of me, and a heavy foot stepped on my back. “Stop pretending.” “Chloe Sterling, that girl named Mia told us everything. You have tickets.” “As long as we have you, your parents will give us as many tickets as we want.” Hearing Mia’s name, my heart skipped a beat. Sensing the malice in their tone, I instinctively tried to fight back. “You still dare to move?!” Snap! A crisp sound. Cold sweat instantly broke out on my forehead as my finger twisted unnaturally. It was broken. Having broken one of my fingers, the group threatened me again to contact my parents. Enduring the pain, I could only tremblingly turn on my phone. Taking a picture of that twisted finger, I sent it to my parents. A few seconds later, there was indeed a reaction from the other side. The moment the video call connected, the other side immediately roared. “Chloe Sterling, what are you doing, a pity play?!” “A new trick?!” I held the phone, stunned. My mother on the other side was furious with disappointment. “You think you can get our attention like this?!” “Chloe Sterling, can you be a bit more mature?” “Don’t use fake photos to lie to us.” Fake photos? I held up the phone, aiming the video at the group of people around me. “I’ve been kidnapped. Mia deliberately leaked the news about the ticket I had.” “I’m not lying.” The other side was silent for a few seconds. Finally, my father sneered, his face showing some mockery. “If Mia wanted to harm you, why would she be so wasteful as to give you a ticket?” “She could have just not given you one.” “Without our help, you are nothing.” His tone was contemptuous. Hearing these words, I was stunned. “Your help?” “What have you helped me with?” The voice on the other side stopped abruptly. “I’ve had excellent grades since I was little, but before I became an adult, no one knew I was your child.” “In over ten years of schooling, you never attended my parent-teacher conferences. Because Mia and I went to the same school, you went to be her parents.” “When I was bullied, you had the driver act as a parent to meet the teacher. You said it was to avoid nepotism, so I didn’t go to the Sterling company, nor did I go to Mom’s research institute.” “Besides this ticket, what have you ever given me?” Even this ticket was just charity I got from being “unreasonable.” “Chloe Sterling!!!” My mother screamed on the other end. “Chloe, saying these things breaks Mom and Dad’s hearts!” “You are their child, how can you accuse them? Quickly say you’re sorry!” “It’s because you’re like this that Mom and Dad don’t like you!” Mia grabbed the phone, each sentence piercing my heart. I was silent for a few seconds. “Since you like them so much, then I give Mom and Dad to you.” Just as she was about to continue speaking, I simply hung up the video call. “What are you doing!” The men next to me instantly got anxious. Seeing me hang up, they hurriedly pushed me away and frantically snatched the phone. Clicking on the video again, the phone had no response. Then, a red exclamation mark popped up. “The other side deleted her!” These words added fuel to the fire. This group of desperadoes, terrified of death, went completely crazy. “Damn it, let’s show her some color!” Holding clubs, the group quickly approached me. Just as the clubs were about to fall on me, the main door was violently kicked open. Bang! A hole was blown into the chest of the man closest to me. After a few gunshots, the only group left standing walked from the door towards me. “Miss Chloe Sterling.” “We are ordered to take you to the Antarctic Ark Shelter.” “Welcome.” Without my permission, Mia will never enter the shelter.

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Six years into our secret marriage with Elias Coolidge, we decided on a secret divorce. To spare his new girlfriend from the ignominy of being called a home-wrecker, he said, “I don’t want anyone to know we were ever married.” I nodded, said nothing, and simply added an extra zero to the property settlement. Elias’s face changed. “In your heart, is there really nothing but money?” I chuckled softly. “After all these years, you still know me best.” 1 Elias Coolidge ended up in the hospital after a night of heavy drinking. The nurse asked, “Who is the patient’s family?” Both I and Sarah Hayes stood up simultaneously. “I am.” “It’s me.” The nurse frowned. “Who is it, really?” Sarah quickly stepped forward. “It’s me. Tell me anything you need to.” The nurse began explaining the instructions for staying overnight. Sarah listened intently. I glanced at Elias. His breathing was heavy, his brows furrowed, the corners of his eyes flushed red, but his lips were pale and bloodless. It had been years since I’d seen him like this. Drinking tolerance, while something you could build, was mostly about one’s constitution. And Elias, unfortunately, was allergic to alcohol. Sarah, her eyes welling with tears, warmed his hand. For the ‘other woman’ to be so dedicated, I, the actual wife, felt quite awkward. As I hesitated whether to just leave, she spoke. “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have drunk so much.” My assistant had already filled me in on the details before I arrived. At the banquet, someone had approached Sarah, trying to get her to drink. Elias had intervened. The man had sneered, “A man who’s afraid to drink? You’re better off with me.” Elias was long past the age of impulsive bravado. But that night, he’d gotten heated and started a drinking contest. Anyone who knew Elias knew he wasn’t a strong drinker. But if he was determined to drink himself to death, you probably couldn’t outdrink him. In his wild, reckless youth, he’d landed in the hospital several times for such behavior. The last time was in our second year of marriage. He’d coughed up blood in the hospital, and I’d been in a car crash on the highway. After that, he changed. Sarah asked, “Ms. Jensen, did he use to protect you like that?” I forced a smile. “You stay with him; I’ll head back.” “Ms. Jensen.” Sarah’s voice was urgent. She bit her lip, as if making up her mind. “I told Elias I wanted to get married, and he said yes.” 2 Two days prior, I’d turned my car around and rushed back to the office, having forgotten something important. Passing Elias’s office, the lights were still on. Sarah was sitting sideways on Elias’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, nestled in his embrace. She cooed, “Elias, I want to get married.” I didn’t have a habit of eavesdropping. But that sentence made me stop in my tracks. Elias had a casual smile on his face, his eyes slightly narrowed, as he stroked Sarah’s long hair over and over again. “What, little lady in a hurry to get hitched?” “No way!” Sarah hummed. “I just want to marry you. Elias, will you marry me, please?” I stood outside the door, watching Elias through the half-open crack. He was silent for a long time. The smile faded from his face. He met my gaze steadily. Then he softly said, “Okay.” “Ms. Jensen, Elias doesn’t love you anymore. He loves me now.” Sarah’s voice was full of conviction. She looked at me, nervous and proud. I lowered my eyes. “Then congratulations.” 3 Elias returned to the office the next afternoon. As soon as he entered his office, he called for me. Pushing open the door, I saw him propping his head wearily, pressing his thumb hard against his temple. The after-effects of a hangover, a migraine, had set in. “Organize the ‘Bright Horizons’ project and hand it over to Sarah.” His sudden instruction left me stunned for a few seconds. “What?” He didn’t repeat himself, just looked at me with heavy eyes. “The Bright Horizons project is crucial. Sarah is just starting out… So she needs an opportunity, a big win, a glittering resume.” I fell silent again. “Cara Jensen, I’m not discussing this with you.” Elias rapped his knuckles sharply on the table. He was clearly impatient. Taking a deep breath, my clenched fists relaxed. “Alright. But I have one condition.” Elias raised his chin, signaling me to speak. “Keep the original team, just make her the head. The bonuses and dividends for the project members, not a cent less.” “Fine, I agree.” After receiving Elias’s affirmative answer, I turned and left. I spent an hour and a half organizing everything and explaining the situation to the team. Their gazes at me held pity, sympathy, indignation, and anger. I tapped on the table. “Don’t get emotional; don’t talk about loyalty. It’s just work. Get it done, get paid.” Carrying the documents, I re-entered Elias’s office. Sarah was there too, smiling as she fed Elias a cookie. Elias disliked all sweets. Though he frowned, he reluctantly accepted it. Seeing me, Sarah quickly stood up straight. “You two have business, I’ll step out.” “No need.” Elias placed the cookie box in Sarah’s hand. “Eat over there.” Then he looked at me, his tone unfriendly. “Next time, remember to knock.” Had I not knocked? I guess I hadn’t. It was habit. “There won’t be a next time.” “What?” I placed all the files on Elias’s desk. Meeting his questioning gaze, I handed him the bottom A4 sheet of paper. It clearly stated: Resignation Letter. Elias paused for two seconds. When he looked up again, his eyes were cold. “What do you mean? Are you threatening me?” I hesitated. “You’re overthinking it. The resignation letter has been ready for a while, just waiting for the Bright Horizons project to end. Now that I’ve handed it over, all my tasks are complete. It’s the perfect time to resign.” Elias stared at me, his face grim. Sarah seemed scared. “Ms. Jensen, I won’t do this project. Please don’t be angry. I know I’m not qualified. I just wanted to learn from you. I won’t participate. It’s my fault, I apologize.” Elias’s expression turned even darker. He grabbed Sarah. “You do it if you want to. You don’t need to apologize to anyone. Resigning, are you? Do you think the company won’t run without you?” Elias picked up a pen and scrawled his name at the bottom. He threw the resignation letter at me. “Get out.” I looked down at the paper lying at my feet. “One more thing.” Elias’s face was taut, silent. “Since you and Sarah are getting married, shouldn’t we first end our marriage?” Even Sarah’s sobs stopped. She gripped Elias’s arm, looking at him with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Elias’s frame stiffened slightly. He slowly turned his head. “What did you say?” “I said, let’s get a divorce while we’re at it!” 4 Sarah was dismissed by Elias. She was somewhat reluctant but didn’t defy him, only casting me a hesitant glance as she left. Elias and I stood facing each other. He broke the silence first. “How long have you been planning this resignation?” “Six months.” “So you were ready to divorce six months ago, right?” I neither confirmed nor denied. Elias scoffed. “Cara Jensen, what right do you have to ask for a divorce?” I looked at him. “Does it matter now?” “No, it doesn’t.” Elias took a divorce agreement from his bottom drawer. “You can name any terms you want. Just one thing: I don’t want anyone to gossip about Sarah being the other woman. So no one can know about our divorce. Or rather, I don’t want anyone to know we were ever married.” I scanned the agreement’s contents quickly. I nodded. “Okay, no problem.” Then I picked up the pen and added an extra zero to the property division. Elias looked at me with a sarcastic gaze. “Cara Jensen, in your heart, is there really nothing but money?” I curled my lips. “After all these years, you still know me best.” 5 That day, I packed all my belongings and left the company. Some people were gleeful, others genuinely sad to see me go. The most complex emotions, however, must have belonged to Sarah. She looked like she wanted to say something, but the relief on her face was clear for all to see. Back home, suddenly without work, I felt a little out of place. I spent the whole day like a cat with its tail cut off, unsure what to do with myself. In the afternoon, my assistant sent me a message. [Mr. Coolidge was like a fire-breathing dragon today. Even the future boss lady got a dressing down. Ms. Jensen, I believe it won’t be long before he realizes he’s cut off his own artery. If you find a good new place, take us with you, please! We’d all love to follow you, hehe.] I curved my lips. [Don’t overthink it. As long as the Bright Horizons project is secured, the company still has a promising future. At least your salaries won’t suffer.] As for me—I had no plans to work in the short term. In the evening, Olivia called me to go out for drinks. Like clockwork, she asked daily. I replied: [Send me the location.] The next second, her call came in. “Well, I’ll be damned. The workaholic is taking a break? What, did Elias go bankrupt?” Hearing her vibrant voice, a smile touched my lips. “So, are you going to let me come or not?” “Come on, hurry up! Private room, drinks, men—we’ve got everything!” I met Olivia through Elias, but we unexpectedly became friends. She was one of the few people who knew Elias and I were married. So, facing Elias’s blatant infidelity, she resented him fiercely on one hand and dedicated herself to setting me up with men on the other. In her words, “If he pulls a stunt, don’t blame you for pulling an even bigger one. Who knows whose market value is better!” By the time I arrived, Olivia was already high-spirited. She held a wine glass, screaming and dancing, surrounded by a group of six-foot-tall male models. “Cara, come here.” She pushed the most handsome one towards me. The guy was smooth, calling me “sis” while pouring me a drink. I smiled faintly and took a sip. “Alright, you guys can head out now!” “No, what do you mean?! Cara, you’re such a buzzkill.” I rubbed my temples, helplessly. “Too loud.” She winked at me. “I thought you were shy!” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I that innocent in your eyes?” “Not at all. So I don’t get it. Elias is like that, why are you being so faithful to him?” Olivia was bluntly exasperating. “If he cheats, I cheat. That’s revenge.” “Revenge is too strong a word; we’re not at that point. Besides, his cheating happened after our breakup.” … “Does he acknowledge it?” Olivia sat up straight, her eyes gleaming. “I think I’ve found a crucial point.” I asked Olivia what she meant, but she wouldn’t say, just acting cryptic. “Alright! Actually, I mainly came to tell you that I’m going abroad soon.” “What, for vacation? Business?” “School.” “Huh?” “I got accepted into business school; I’m going for my master’s.” “What about your job? And you and Elias…” “I’ve already resigned. As for Elias and me, we’ve arranged to go to the courthouse tomorrow.” It was almost inevitable that Elias and I would reach this point. I always felt I didn’t have much emotion about it. Yet, when Olivia’s eyes turned red, a bitterness still welled up in my heart. “Is he being a jerk again?” “No.” “Is he intentionally targeting you?” “No.” “Why did you resign? If anyone should go, it should be him!” Olivia and I drank glass after glass. She railed against Elias, empathizing with my pain and feeling I deserved better. Perhaps love is the only thing in this world where input and reward are disproportionate. It’s strange; two people who once loved each other end up feeling shortchanged. 6 Elias and I met in high school. He shouldn’t have been in our small town, but due to family circumstances, he had to transfer to live with his grandfather. Back then, he was willful and rebellious. Not long after school started, he was among the first to be publicly reprimanded. Others, at least, were humble when admitting their mistakes. But he, even standing before the entire school, remained insolent. I disliked people like that. And I didn’t want any interaction with them. Yet, when he was falsely accused, I couldn’t help but step forward and testify for him. From that day on, he followed me, from school to my house, staying until I went upstairs. “Without me, you would have been retaliated against by now.” “Good student, stay out of such matters in the future.” He didn’t care. Fights, false accusations, misunderstandings, punishments – he didn’t care about any of it. But when my dad’s fist, having just struck my mom, was about to land on me, he rushed forward and knocked him down with a kick. My mom screamed, helped my dad up, glared at me, and called me a slut. Elias froze. The next second, he grabbed me and ran. He cooked me a bowl of noodles. It had cooked too long and was clumpy. Too much soy sauce, a bit too salty. The greens were added too late, completely raw. It was the worst bowl of noodles I’d ever tasted, yet I ate every last drop, even the broth. In our turbulent youth, two lonely souls, we found warmth in each other, supporting each other as we moved forward. But everyone was against us. The school opposed early romance. Elias’s family was condescending. “I’ve seen plenty of gold-diggers, but this young is a first.” My mom’s eyes turned red with anger. She slapped me, calling me a disgrace. Elias was forcibly taken away, and I became an outcast at school. But he escaped, with all his New Year’s money, and a bruised leg. He said, “Let’s elope!” I held him, resting my head against his. “One year. We’ll get into the same university. Then no one can stop us. Just one year.”

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In our last life, my sister was adopted by a billionaire dynasty. I was taken in by a school janitor. She thought she’d won the lottery. Instead, she stepped into a shark tank of corporate infighting, cold parents, and a brother who made it his mission to break her. She ended up with nothing. Meanwhile, I grew up in a house full of warmth. My life played out like a teen drama—the brooding, wealthy heir fell for the “poor but brilliant” girl. Me. Consumed by jealousy and rage, my sister killed me. Now, we’re back. Back to the day of the adoption. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into the arms of the woman in the faded jumpsuit. “Mom! Take me home! I want to be your daughter!” she cried. She looked at me with a triumphant smirk. “Sis, this time, I’m the leading lady.” What she doesn’t realize is that being the “heroine” was never about where I started. It was about how I played the game. 1 We were back in the Director’s office at the orphanage. Two couples stood before us: The Westons and the Millers. The Westons looked like they stepped off the cover of Forbes. The husband was in a bespoke suit; the wife was draped in Chanel and diamonds. Their only son, Becket Weston, stood there in his private school blazer, rocking a pair of limited-edition sneakers that cost more than a mid-sized sedan. They were the most powerful family in the city. Real estate, tech, philanthropy—they owned it all. Becket was the “Prince of the City.” Then there were the Millers. They looked exhausted. Their hands were calloused from manual labor. They’d clearly put on their “Sunday best,” but you could still see the faint stains of hard work on their collars. The Director introduced them: Mr. Miller was a high school custodian; Mrs. Miller was a cleaning lady at the same school. In our first life, my sister, Macy, had fought tooth and nail to be picked by the Westons. But now? She lunged for Mrs. Miller as if she were afraid I’d beat her to it. “Take me! I want to be a Miller!” The Director whispered to himself, confused. “Strange. Macy usually only looks at people wearing Rolexes. Why the change of heart?” The Director didn’t know. But I did. 2 In the last life, Macy became Macy Weston. She thought she’d be a pampered princess. She thought Becket would be the protective older brother who eventually realized he loved her. It’s the oldest trope in the book: The Billionaire and the Adopted Daughter. She was dead wrong. Becket didn’t have a protective bone in his body for her. He loathed her from day one. “I hate gold-diggers,” he’d told her. “You’re just a social climber with an orphanage pedigree. Don’t touch my stuff.” At home, he bullied her. At school, he turned the entire student body against her. Their parents didn’t care; they only adopted a girl because a “spiritual advisor” told them a daughter would bring good luck to their next merger. While Becket was tormenting Macy, he became obsessed with me—the janitor’s daughter. He saw me working three jobs, maintaining a 4.0 GPA, and helping my mom scrub floors at night without a single complaint. “There’s something about Chloe Miller,” he’d say. The arrogant prince fell for the “indomitable wallflower.” It was the ultimate Cinderella story. When the Weston parents died, Becket’s legal team made sure Macy was cut out of the will entirely. She left with nothing but a suitcase. A few months later, Becket married me. At the wedding, he declared, “Everything I own is yours, Chloe.” Driven to madness, Macy ran me over with her car a week later. Now, she thinks she’s being smart. She wants the “simple life.” She wants the unconditional love of the Millers and the chance to be the “poor girl” Becket rescues. She smiled at me as we walked to our separate cars. “Sister, it’s my turn to be the star. Enjoy the Westons. Let’s see how you handle the ‘Prince’ when he’s your brother.” 3 Macy’s prediction was half-right. Becket’s bullying started even earlier this time. In the school locker room, my head was shoved into a sink full of water. The sound of boys laughing echoed off the tiles. Just as I was running out of air, a hand grabbed the back of my neck and hauled me up. Becket Weston looked at me with a cruel, handsome smile. “Want my family’s money, Chloe? Fine.” He pointed at the floor. “Lick the water off my shoes. Ten thousand dollars a lick. Deal?” His goons cheered. I looked at him. In my past life, this man had looked at me with such tenderness. Now, he was a monster. But Becket wasn’t even looking at me. His eyes moved past me, toward the hallway. Macy was there, kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the tiles. “Isn’t that the new Miller girl?” one of the goons asked. “Yeah, her mom’s the cleaning lady. She works with her after school.” Becket’s eyes flickered with a strange emotion—shock, then a hint of pity. “Hey!” Becket shouted at Macy. “Stop scrubbing. It’s freezing out. No one’s checking the halls.” Macy stood up, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She looked pale, stubborn, and perfectly “tragic.” “I can’t,” Macy said, her voice trembling. “If the floors aren’t clean, they’ll dock my mom’s pay. A hundred dollars is nothing to a guy like you, Becket. To us, it’s a week’s worth of groceries.” She went back to scrubbing. It was a masterclass in manipulation. She knew exactly where to stand to get the best lighting. She knew Becket’s “hero complex” was his greatest weakness. Sure enough, Becket walked over, grabbed the rag from her hand, and threw it at one of his friends. “You guys finish the floor,” he barked. He took off his designer jacket and draped it over Macy’s shoulders. “It’s late. How are you getting home?” “Bike.” “In this weather?” Becket frowned. “Wait downstairs. My driver will take you.” As Becket led her away, Macy glanced back at me. She threw me a look of pure, concentrated smugness. Once everyone left, I was alone by the sinks. “Here. Use this.” A quiet, cold voice came from behind me. I turned. It was Avery Lane, our class president. Avery was a shadow. Brilliant, silent, and always in long sleeves, regardless of the heat. In the last life, she had tried to help Macy when Becket bullied her. She’d offered Macy towels and told her to report the abuse. Macy had slapped her hand away. “What do you know? He’s my brother! He’s just misunderstood!” Macy had been too busy dreaming of a romance with her adoptive brother to see a real friend. Avery eventually stopped trying. By graduation, Avery had committed suicide. Only then did we find out how poor she really was—her grandmother was bedridden, and her father was a gambling addict who beat her and planned to “sell” her to pay off his debts. Now, Avery stood there holding a clean towel. I took it. She turned to leave, likely thinking she had nothing to say to a “Weston.” “Avery!” I called out. She stopped. “I’m new here,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m lost. Can you show me where the cafeteria is?” 4 In the cafeteria, I ordered everything. Ribs, wings, pasta, salad, and soup. “Oops,” I said, looking at the table. “I over-ordered. It’s a sin to waste food. You haven’t eaten, right? Join me.” Avery sat in silence for a moment before picking up a fork. She ate in tiny, controlled bites. I looked at her thin wrists. Avery was the kind of girl who actually needed a “fairy godmother.” But because she wasn’t “pretty” in a loud way and didn’t scream for help, she was just treated like background noise. This time, I was going to save her. “Man, this calculus is killing me,” I lied. “I don’t get it at all. Avery, you’re the smartest person in class. Can you tutor me?” Avery looked at me like I was insane. “I’ll pay you,” I added quickly. “Think of it as a job.” 5 I gave Avery a “pre-payment” of five thousand dollars. She was stunned. To the Westons, that was a rounding error. To Avery, it was medicine for her grandmother and a down payment on a small apartment away from her father. I went back to the Weston mansion. It was cold and empty. My “parents” were out at galas; Becket was probably at Macy’s house. I knew exactly what was happening there. Becket would be sitting in their cramped, “cozy” kitchen. He’d be eating a home-cooked meal, feeling the “warmth” of a working-class family for the first time. The Miller parents would be smiling their “honest” smiles. Macy thought she was in heaven. She didn’t realize the Millers were the most dangerous people in this story. They were sexist to the core. They wanted a boy, but since they couldn’t get one, they chose a pretty girl they could “sell” to a wealthy suitor later. Their “warmth” was a performance. In my last life, when I told the Millers I didn’t want to marry Becket, my “mother” locked me in a room and my “father” beat me nearly to death with a belt. Macy thinks she’s the lead in a romance. She doesn’t realize she’s in a trap. The Westons are a hell made of gold. The Millers are a hell made of poverty. The only way out is to stop being a “heroine” and start being the architect of your own life. 6 Over the next few weeks, Becket’s bullying intensified. I found thumbtacks in my lunchbox. Dead spiders in my toothpaste. My designer dresses were found in the closet with cigarette burns in them. Becket would smirk at me. “You deserve this, Chloe.” He expected me to cry. I didn’t. I cleaned up the mess and went to study. I had resources now. I didn’t have to work three jobs. I had a driver. I had a tutor (Avery). I had the best prep books money could buy. In the last life, I survived on black coffee and grit. This time, I had a war chest. Meanwhile, Macy was falling apart. She was sleeping in class because she was forced to help Mrs. Miller clean offices until 2 AM. Her grades were tanking. To her, being Becket’s “future wife” was more important than an Ivy League education. She spent her time writing diaries for Becket to “find” and skipping dance rehearsals to go stargazing with him. But when the school talent showcase approached… she was cut from the program. I saw her crying in the hallway—the perfect “heroine” cry, head tilted at 45 degrees, tears glistening but not falling. Becket walked by. Right on cue. “What happened?” he asked, his voice full of protective rage. “The dance team…” Macy sobbed. “Chloe kicked me out. She said… she said because my mom is a janitor and my dad is a guard, I’m not ‘classy’ enough for the stage. She said I can’t afford the costume.” Becket’s face went dark. “How dare she? It’s just a costume. I’ll buy it for you.” “No,” Macy sniffled. “She’s a Weston. Her dad is the Chairman of the Board. Even if the teachers knew she was a bully, they wouldn’t stop her.” She didn’t notice the reporters standing behind her. They were at the school for a feature on “Elite Education.” They pounced like sharks. “Bullying? What bullying?”

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The fever was a furnace, spiking past 104 degrees, and in that blurring, sweat-drenched state, I dreamt. My closest friend, Ashton, was there, clutching a bottle of pills, his face a landscape of absolute despair. He wept, repeating that he couldn’t go on. I tried to tell myself it was just the fever talking—a horrifying nightmare brought on by the exhaustion of the last few days. Then the call came. Ashton was dead. A suspected suicide by overdose. The scene, described in the sterile language of the precinct report, was an echo of my fevered vision. Identical. That same night, the fever returned. This time, I dreamt of my father-in-law, Robert Vaughn. A man whose health was robust, a man who never missed a morning at the gym. In the dream, he suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and died instantly, his face a bruised mask of agony. I woke up, heart hammering, just as my wife, Tracy, answered a frantic call from her neighbor. Bob had collapsed in the produce aisle of the local market. We rushed to the county hospital, but the diagnosis was a chilling confirmation: a massive stroke. We were too late. My reality splintered. After Tracy and I navigated the dark, surreal logistics of the funeral, the high fever refused to break. I collapsed into a deep, drug-induced coma. And this time, the dream was of me. I was in a frenzy, emotions beyond my control. I held a machete, and I was hacking at Tracy’s body, reducing her to unrecognizable pieces before discarding the remains carelessly in the wild, overgrown fields outside the village. I jolted awake, drenched and gasping, the dream’s violence a sticky film on my skin. Terror seized me. I instinctively reached for the other side of the bed. It was empty. … 1 “Tracy?” Clinging to the headboard to steady myself against the vertigo, I scrambled off the mattress and slapped the light switch. “Tracy Blair! Where are you?” “Don’t do this to me!” The second shout was a desperate croak, tears already prickling my eyes. A deep, primal fear rose from my gut, clenching my diaphragm and making me dry-heave. Silence. The rented house was a void. In a blind panic, I fumbled under my pillow for my phone and dialed her number. It rang, but only met the steady, infuriating click of voicemail. I wrenched the bedroom door open and stumbled into the yard, screaming her name into the pre-dawn air. The only reply was the disturbed flutter and squawk of unseen birds. A sudden, cold gust of wind brought a flicker of clarity, pulling my thoughts back to the terrifying loop of the dreams. Could it be… The anxiety, the dread, and the crushing sense of fate tightened around my chest. “911, what is your emergency?” It wasn’t until the operator’s voice cut through the silence that I realized I’d called the police purely on instinct. She repeated the question when I failed to speak. “Sir? Are you there?” “I—I am.” I pressed the phone hard against my ear, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice. “I… I need to report a missing person.” “My wife is gone.” The operator seemed to register the raw edge of my distress. She spoke softly, then followed up with procedure. “When did you last see her?” I lifted my arm, squinting at the dim glow of my wristwatch. 4:32 AM. “Three hours ago. That was the last time.” “Sir, we typically can’t take a missing persons report until twenty-four hours have passed,” she said, her tone reverting to standard protocol. Then, a touch of humanity returned. “Is it possible she just stepped out? Maybe she didn’t want to wake you, given the circumstances of the funeral?” I nodded stupidly into the phone. “Right. Okay.” The line went dead. I lowered the phone and looked around. It was pitch black, alienating. It was the day after Bob’s burial. Tracy had insisted we stay one night in the village, near her family plot. I’d been running on pure adrenaline and Tylenol for three days, my fever a constant companion. The moment the funeral director closed the casket, I’d crashed. And then… that third, most terrible dream. The thought of it sent a fresh spike of pain through my skull, so sharp it dropped me to my knees. I shook my head violently, then, in a morbid curiosity that felt utterly foreign, I opened my phone’s browser and typed: Do dreams come true? The logical answers were obvious and unsatisfying. The operator’s gentle reminder echoed: “Maybe she just went somewhere and didn’t tell you?” A sudden location sprang to mind. I scrambled up, half-crawling to the door, and got in the car. I didn’t stop to dress properly, driving straight for the cemetery where we’d laid Bob to rest. It’s a lie. The dreams are lies. It won’t happen. I repeated the mantra until my throat was raw, but it did nothing to stop the cold sweat from soaking the collar of my T-shirt. The village roads were silent and deserted. I drove fast, arriving at the cemetery in less than five minutes. In the distance, I saw it: a few faint, pulsing lights near the grave markers. A rush of desperate relief surged through me. I leaned out the window, waving and shouting Tracy’s name. No response. I slammed the brakes. My headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the stone—Bob’s new headstone. And just as clearly, they showed that no one was there. She wasn’t at the grave. Where was she? Did she just go home, back to the city? A new flicker of hope ignited. I spun the car around and sped toward the highway. But on the way, I passed a vast, empty stretch of scrubland, the kind of untamed terrain that lined the outskirts of the village. The details of the location clicked, slowly, sickeningly—they matched the disposal site from my dream. I jammed the brake pedal, the tires screaming in protest. I stumbled out of the car, breathing in ragged, choked gasps. The first pale light of dawn was just touching the horizon. I walked into the dense, thorny field, scanning wildly. Nothing. No disturbance. No body. Thank God. The dream was just a dream. It wasn’t real. A fragile sense of calm returned. I got back in the car, feeling lighter, and drove home. I pulled into our driveway at 6:12 AM. The result ripped the air from my lungs again. The house was still empty. Frantically, I started calling Tracy’s friends. They were all confused, insisting they hadn’t seen her and didn’t know where she’d gone. Riley, her oldest friend, tried to soothe my rising panic. “Cass, please, don’t spiral. You know Tate. Since she was a kid, when she’s really overwhelmed or upset, she just disappears. She has to go somewhere quiet and digest it alone.” “She’ll show up. Just relax. Give her a couple of hours.” 2 I hung up, but couldn’t sit still. I’d checked every place I could think of, called everyone in her life. Tracy, a fully grown woman, had simply vanished. I sank onto the sofa, my head leaning heavily on the armrest. In the dead silence of the living room, I forced myself to slow my breathing, and the images of last night’s dream flooded back. No. Impossible. It can’t be. I opened my browser again, searching for the same questions, over and over, desperately trying to affirm my sanity. I didn’t kill my wife. I couldn’t have. We’d been married for ten years, childless but happy. We were the couple that everyone pointed to, the “Model Millers,” who never seemed to fight. I rubbed my face hard, feeling the sting of the stubble, trying to push away the creeping sensation that I was losing my mind. While searching for articles about premonition, my phone’s default system suddenly flashed a recommendation: “If you are experiencing intrusive or distressing thoughts, seek professional help.” The suggestion was a punch to the gut, but it also jarred me into action. I pulled up a map and found the closest clinic, then booked the earliest appointment. The psychologist, Dr. Helena Ross, looked about my age and maintained a studied, gentle smile as I entered. “Mr. Miller, you mentioned chronic nightmares? This could be due to extreme stress, anxiety, or—” “No!” I cut her off, my voice loud and desperate. “My dreams, Doctor. They’re predictive.” Dr. Ross froze, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, what exactly do you mean?” I pressed my lips together. “It sounds insane. I know. But it’s already happened. Twice.” “Five days ago, I dreamt my best friend, Ashton, was going to kill himself…” In the dream, Ashton, my friend of twenty years, was utterly broken. He cried, recounting his failed relationships, then, in a terrifying, decisive movement, he opened a bottle of pills and swallowed the entire contents. The worst part was that I simply stood there, watching him die with a cold, almost detached expression. “Doctor, you have to understand. I woke up, and he really was dead. He swallowed pills. It’s what killed him.” Dr. Ross’s face had gone pale, her mouth slightly ajar. “It sounds like a terrible… coincidence, Mr. Miller.” I closed my eyes, and a single tear slipped down my cheek. “That’s what I told myself, too.” After Ashton’s funeral, the fever had hit, and consumed by grief and illness, I took a strong dose of flu medicine and passed out. “The second time, I dreamt of my father-in-law. Robert Vaughn. I saw him die from a stroke.” In that dream, Bob’s face was dark and congested. He was clutching his chest, pleading with me for help. But in the dream, I ignored his helplessness, even cracking a bizarre, chilling smile as he expired. “And in reality, your father-in-law…?” she prompted, her voice barely a whisper. I nodded slowly. “He died. A cerebral hemorrhage. Just like in the dream.” When we got the call, we rushed to the hospital in the next county, but the doctor met us in the waiting room. They’d worked on him, but the EMTs had brought him in too late. Dr. Ross was clearly rattled now. Her professional composure was cracking. She leaned forward, her expression tight. “Mr. Miller, I need you to tell me about the third dream.” I took a long, shaking breath. “I dreamt… I killed my wife.” The words were out, and the doctor gasped, leaping from her chair. Her eyes were wide, and she instinctively backed away, putting distance between us. “And your wife… she’s dead?” I immediately shook my head, my voice erupting into a shout. “No! She’s not dead!” “I didn’t kill her! I would never kill Tracy!” CRASH! The door suddenly burst open. A team of plainclothes officers streamed in. “Cass Miller! You are under arrest in connection with a homicide investigation. You need to come with us.” 3 I became hysterical, shaking and thrashing, only able to repeat the same phrase: “I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t kill anyone!” “Officers, my wife is missing! You need to help me find my wife!” Dr. Ross was utterly terrified. She pointed a trembling finger at me, thrusting a small recording device toward the lead officer. “I’m reporting him! He’s a psychopath! I’m certain he did it!” I was forced into the back of an unmarked police cruiser. The fever had returned with a vengeance, blurring my vision and making the lights swim. The officer beside me, Detective Morales, noticed me nodding off. He barked a single, sharp sentence that cut through the haze. “Cass Miller, this morning, in the scrubland near your father-in-law’s village, we recovered the remains of your wife, Tracy Blair.” I stared at him, my mouth opening, wanting to deny it, but no sound would come out. The sudden, brutal shock sent a wave of nausea washing over me, and a jet of something metallic and hot sprayed from my mouth. The officers immediately diverted to the emergency room. Once I was stabilized and hooked up to an IV drip, Detective Morales began the preliminary interview. “We’ve listened to your conversation with the psychologist. Your claim is that you’re having premonitions of the future?” I nodded weakly, meeting his gaze. “Detective, I need to ask you something. What… what did they look like? Her remains?” Morales’s face was dark, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t answer right away, simply boring into me, evaluating every twitch of my expression. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and heavy. “She was dismembered. We recovered the torso and all four limbs.” He paused, letting the word dismembered hang in the air, a cold, hard echo of my dream. “The killer took great pains to clean up any identifying information. Except…” He leaned closer, his eyes locked on mine. This was the test. Every minute micro-expression I made would be cataloged. “The killer made one mistake. At the scene, we found a severed thumb, dropped near the shallow grave site.” “Fingerprint match confirmed the identity of the victim.” “It’s your wife, Tracy Blair.” My heart seized up. My thoughts were stuck on the three words: dismembered. The remains. Again. It’s exactly the same. The emotional floodgate broke, but Morales pressed on, ignoring my grief. “The autopsy report is preliminary. Time of death is estimated between 1:30 AM and 4:30 AM this morning.” “We also have a record from the county dispatch. At 4:31 AM, you called 911.” “Reporting your wife missing.” His voice was distant, confusing. I nodded, running on autopilot. “Yes. I was jolted awake by that terrible dream, and I realized she was gone.” “I looked around, couldn’t find her, so I called.” The clarity returned in a shocking flash. “Detective, you said my wife is dead?” “Who killed her? Who is the murderer?” I was sinking into a well of anguish, blind to the detective’s tightening, cynical gaze. He let out a short, cold laugh, then slammed his hand on the arm of my hospital bed. “Miller, we have an eyewitness report. Someone saw you at the disposal site this morning.” “Tell me, who do you think the killer is?” 4 The silence that followed was thick, a physical weight pressing on my chest. I repeated his question, confused. “I… I don’t know who the killer is.” Morales didn’t waste another second. He had me discharged and taken immediately to the interrogation room at the station. Before the formal questioning, however, he insisted I undergo a full psychiatric evaluation. He returned, pulling out a folder filled with papers. “This morning, when we were canvassing the area for the missing body parts, we spoke to a resident.” “They placed you at the scrubland location. Why were you there?” My hands were balled into fists in my lap. “Yes! I went to those fields!” “Because in my dream, I remembered leaving the body there! I went because I was curious, I was terrified that the dream had come true!” I cut myself off, realizing instantly that every word I spoke was only tightening the noose. “Detective, I swear I didn’t kill her.” “She’s my wife! We’ve spent a decade together, through thick and thin!” “I loved her! Why would I kill the woman I love?” Tears were streaming now, blurring the edges of the sterile room. But this wasn’t a therapy session; it was a police interrogation. Tears only registered as manipulation. Morales watched me until I was finished, then leaned forward. “You told the psychologist that you dreamt of killing your wife, dismembering her, and dumping the body in the village fields.” “Cass Miller, can you distinguish between fantasy and reality?” His words struck a chord of ice in my stomach. But he didn’t give me a chance to reply. “Our intelligence suggests you’ve been taking strong medication for days.” “I had a high fever. I was taking antibiotics and fever reducers.” He tapped the table rhythmically with his index finger. “But we ran a preliminary check. Your medication contained trace amounts of a powerful psychotropic agent.” I grabbed the edge of the small, metal table. “Detective, you’re operating with a preconceived notion!” “I did not kill my wife! I told you, it was a dream!” The door opened, and a young officer slipped in, handing Morales a report. “Detective, the psychiatric evaluation came back. He is of sound mind. No mental illness.” I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. I’m telling you the truth!” “I didn’t kill her! I’m being framed!” “You suspect me of murder. Show me the evidence! Where is the motive?” Morales narrowed his eyes. “How was your relationship with your wife, really?” “Excellent!” I shot back, without hesitation. “Since we got married, we never even raised our voices at each other.” “You’re lying.” He suddenly slammed his hand down, hard, rattling the pens in the metal tray. “You’re lying, Miller!” “We spoke to your neighbors. Just last week, you had a violent, screaming argument that ended in a physical altercation.” “Do you need me to refresh your memory?” My hands clenched into painful knots. His words plunged me back into a painful, confused memory. “Tell me. What was the fight about?” Before I could answer, a loud, familiar scream erupted from outside the interrogation room. “I’m calling the police! My son didn’t kill himself! He was murdered!” I spun to look at the door. Two familiar, heartbroken figures were being restrained in the hallway. Ashton’s parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Reid?” The instant I spoke, Ashton’s father broke free, lunging across the hall and slapping me across the face with stunning force. “You bastard! You killed my son!” “You deserve to die! Die!” Officers rushed to pull the frantic man away. Detective Morales quickly slammed the door shut, then fixed me with a sharp, sweeping glare. He said nothing, only turned and walked out. He returned half an hour later, slamming a fresh file folder onto the table with an air of absolute fury. “Cass Miller. We now suspect we are dealing with a connected, serial murder case.” “And you are the prime suspect.” “I didn’t kill anyone!” I yelled, my voice booming. That slap had cleared the last of the fever fog from my mind. All the bizarre, disjointed facts suddenly snapped into place. “I know what happened.”

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It was at the Actor’s Guild Awards ceremony. During the required group photo, some viral TikTok star took my center spot. The organizer shifted uncomfortably. “He’s Ms. Lowell’s—Bianca Lowell—boyfriend. She called and asked us to take care of him.”
“Would you… mind moving?” I nodded and moved. After the ceremony, my agent, Rhonda, leaned in to whisper a reassurance. “You did the right thing. The Lowell family is too powerful. We can’t afford to cross them.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. You didn’t deserve that.” I paused.
I shook my head. During my years with Bianca, she’d done more than a few unreasonable things to elevate me.
Now the tables had turned. What goes around comes around.
It was only fair. 1
The day I walked away from Bianca Lowell, I knew this day would come. Everything she had once given me, she would eventually give to someone else. I’d flown too high on her private jet, moved too fast on her borrowed power. When we broke up, every resource that had bent my way snapped back to its original alignment. I vanished into a three-year silence, practically a ghost in the industry. It’s only been in the last few years, clawing my way through a string of supporting roles, that I’ve managed to rebuild a name for myself: Jude Ellison. Kellan Brooks, the kid who stole my spot, was the same story. A total unknown, a social media personality who hadn’t shot a single legitimate film. Yet, here he was, at a gala of industry titans, occupying the space I’d spent a decade fighting for. Coincidentally, at the pre-ceremony dinner, Kellan was seated right next to me. As he was trying to capture the perfect selfie, his teacup—a delicate, steaming porcelain thing—tipped sharply backward. The scalding liquid flew toward me. If I hadn’t quickly blocked it, it wouldn’t have just been my arm and neck blistering, but a vintage, eight-figure custom-tailored suit. It was a small disaster. The host was horrified and immediately rushed me to the nearest emergency clinic. Kellan followed, his face a mask of performative guilt. The burn was bad. They needed to drain the blisters and dress the wound. I hate needles. I hate pain. In a situation like this, I used to grab the arm of whoever was nearby, shaking. That person would look at my pathetic display, chuckle, and call me a coward. The joke now was that the person standing next to me was her new pet. Kellan was already on the phone, his voice shaking. “Ms. Lowell… I’m so sorry I caused trouble.”
“I didn’t mean to spill the tea, I promise. I’ll apologize, but the online chatter is starting to get bad…” He went on for an embarrassingly long time, utterly pathetic and desperate. The woman on the other end answered in a voice as flat and distant as a faraway coast. “This is hardly a crisis, Kellan. Don’t bother me with it.” Kellan lowered his voice, whining.
“But his profile isn’t small, and the burns are serious. If his fans blow this up, it could look terrible for us…” Her impatient voice cut him off.
“Who is it, Kellan?”
“Jude… Jude Ellison.” A beat of absolute silence hung in the air. Bianca’s tone was barely a whisper.
“I see.” 2
Kellan hung up and visibly sagged with relief. He managed an awkward, apologetic smile. “About the C-spot… I really didn’t know.” He rushed to explain, clearly trying not to make an enemy. “I just mentioned to Ms. Lowell that I wanted to attend and maybe get some press… I had no idea she’d assign me your seat. I am so sorry.” He didn’t know Bianca’s style. For someone of her stature, the moment she decides to “handle” something, the staff automatically delivers the absolute best. It was over. I gave him a polite, practiced smile.
“It’s fine. Just a small misunderstanding.” I used to be the beneficiary of those misunderstandings. Now I was on the other side of the wheel. I had no right to feel wounded. Rhonda came to the hospital later that evening after the event had wrapped. She brought bad news: the Best Actor award had gone to a complete surprise—a newcomer whose work and acting chops were clearly inferior to mine. A blatant back-room deal. Rhonda looked at me with genuine hurt. “If you were still with Bianca, who in Hollywood would dare steal your award?” I said nothing. Some things are just not built to last. I was the one who ended it. By then, she was coming home later and later. Her attitude toward me was ice. Rumors were everywhere about the Lowell Group CEO marrying a foreign conglomerate’s heir. I wanted to save myself some dignity before I was publicly thrown out. Yet, even while I was with Bianca, I swallowed plenty of indignities. She was the physical manifestation of resources and power. Whoever owned her, owned a fast pass to fame. I once worked on a set where the lead actor was her old flame. I was the supporting character. The scene where the lead “angrily slaps” the scheming supporting character took twenty-something takes. I walked out of the studio with a face like a swollen pumpkin. Similar incidents piled up, but I endured them. In her eyes, I was no different from any of the other men who flocked to her for the access and the fame. I told Rhonda the story, trying to make it sound like a funny anecdote. She stared at me, dumbfounded. “How can you think that? You were with her when she had nothing. You were her rock.” I just smiled. What did that even matter? 3
We both thought that after the boardroom coup, Bianca Lowell had lost. Her father had died suddenly, and the vultures—the Lowell uncles and cousins—swooped in, seizing the assets and forcing the young heiress out of the company. Everyone scattered. In that entire, dark period, only I remained by Bianca’s side. I began to take on any acting job I could find. The stress was immense. I was plagued by nightmares, often waking up screaming, reaching for Bianca. She would open her sleepy eyes and gently pull me into her arms, her voice soft as she asked what was wrong. I remember sobbing, “I dreamt you killed yourself.”
“Please, don’t ever give up. No matter what happens, I will be here for you.” That was the first time I saw Bianca genuinely freeze. She narrowed her eyes, cupped my face, and stared at me in silence. I also saved her life once. When that out-of-control sedan barreled toward us, I instinctively shoved her out of the way. Lying in the ambulance, I clutched her hand, terrified and crying. “Bianca, am I going to die?” When I woke up, a simple, faded red thread was tied around my wrist. It was a charm Bianca’s mother had brought back from a pilgrimage, a token meant for protection. Bianca had always worn it close to her skin. Now, inexplicably, it was on mine. She seemed to change after that. This woman who existed on an untouchable pedestal was suddenly making me bland, unsatisfying hospital meals by hand. When I lost my appetite, she would bring the bowl to my bedside and spoon-feed me. While I was recovering, the Lowell Group saw its second, more brutal, round of purging. Everyone said Bianca had completely re-established her dominance. I was ecstatic for her. Until one day, I went to a high-end club to drop off a watch she’d requested. Outside the private room, several socialites surrounded a handsome man, sitting opposite Bianca. “Congratulations, Bianca. You finally cleaned out those old fossils.”
“We were terrified when you had that crash, actually thinking those old cronies were trying to take you out. Never thought the whole thing was a self-directed masterpiece.”
“That poor guy who shoved you out of the way, what was his name? A life debt like that, maybe you should marry him?” Bianca’s voice was cool, dismissive.
“Him? He was just… the useful idiot.”
“Men like that are the best actors. They mix in just enough genuine emotion to make you fall in love, and in the end, they expect you to hand over your entire kingdom.” The socialites fell silent.
“So… what are you planning to do with him?” She didn’t answer. She sat in the dim light, looking down. Then, a few of the men, highly attuned to the atmosphere, moved closer, whispering against her shoulder. I didn’t want to see any more. I turned and walked away. 4
Rhonda is one of the few people who knew about my relationship with Bianca. She was Bianca’s executive assistant when we first met, witnessing our entire saga unfold. Years later, when Bianca and I split and I hit a professional low, Rhonda quit her lucrative, high-profile job with Bianca to become my agent. When I asked her why she’d do it, she laughed.
“I’m betting on a grand reunion. If you two get back together, I’ll be your boss’s boss.” Rhonda is the smartest person I know. She only ever lost one bet. It’s been three years since the breakup. Bianca has had more boyfriends than I can count. I, on the other hand, have a wife in name only: Camille Stone. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon, gentle, and utterly level-headed. We have a contract marriage. At the time, I was under surveillance by Bianca’s scheming family members, and I had a child—a daughter born prematurely whom everyone believed had died of complications, but whom I had quietly hidden away. I desperately needed a new identity to create a shield. Rhonda connected us. Camille needed an officially married status to quiet her family’s demands for a husband; I needed a wife to deflect the press and the Lowell family’s curiosity. For three years, we have lived together more like courteous roommates. To Bianca Lowell, I was a stranger. 5
The next day, I was on a video call with Camille. She had just finished a grueling surgery, and the fatigue was visible in her eyes. Noticing the bandage on my jaw, she frowned. “I’ve bought a flight. I’m coming over to take care of you.” I smiled and shook my head, about to tell her not to bother. That’s when Kellan Brooks walked in, clutching a massive bouquet and followed by a throng of production assistants and cameramen. My heart sank. I quickly ended the call. Kellan spent a long time offering scripted, earnest condolences. I played along with the required formalities. There was no point in arguing now. The organizers had released a statement claiming the seating chart was a mistake. Public opinion was already swinging Kellan’s way, giving him a massive follower boost. The strength of capital. I smiled politely, shaking my head internally. The mood had been artificially harmonious until the door to the hospital room was pushed open. A man in a sharp suit bent low, ushering in a tall, slender figure. I froze. Bianca Lowell. How could she be here? Yesterday, the financial news was reporting she was in Warsaw finalizing a massive deal. Kellan was just as surprised. “Ms. Lowell, you…” Bianca, her expression utterly detached, took his arm. “I wasn’t comfortable leaving you alone. I came to check on you.” I managed a strained smile and spoke first. “Ms. Lowell.” She glanced over the hospital bed, her cool gaze sweeping over my face without lingering. “How is your injury?” I was slightly stunned. “It’s fine. I’ll heal up in a few days.” Kellan, finally recovering from his delight, formally introduced me. “Ms. Lowell, this is Jude Ellison. He’s played in a lot of really famous things.” After a few seconds of heavy silence, Bianca curved her lips into a slight, practiced smile. “I’ve heard the name.” She produced a check and held it out, her voice level. “Mr. Ellison, I apologize on behalf of my boyfriend.” “He is spoiled, I admit, and rather careless. Please don’t hold it against him.” Kellan was looking up at her with a sickeningly worshipful, small-bird-like gaze. I shook my head, declining the offer. “Mr. Brooks has already covered my lost wages and medical expenses.” Bianca stood directly in front of me, her still presence like a mountain. She lowered her eyes, letting her gaze rest on my face. “Mr. Ellison, the reality show Kellan is about to film? You’re in it too.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could look out for him.” The money wasn’t an apology; it was a payment for Kellan’s smooth sailing. I accepted the check with a brief, humorless smile. It was surprising that Bianca was still this involved in her latest boyfriend’s career. Though, I should have known. Before I ever walked onto a set, Bianca would read every one of my scripts herself. If the romance was too involved, the intimacy too explicit, or the plot too weak, the script was out. The most telling incident was when she read a script I was genuinely excited about. After finishing the final act, she raised an eyebrow. “Why would the female lead beg the male lead to take her back?” I patiently explained. “Because she finally realizes she loves him. She has all the money in the world, but she’s miserable without him, so she makes a desperate plea…” My voice faded under the intensity of Bianca’s increasing, cold derision. “Don’t ever mistake rich people for fools.” She tossed the script casually into the trash, a slight, chilling laugh escaping her lips.
“Someone like me? I would never debase myself for a man.” “Daddy!” The hospital room door was abruptly shoved open. A tiny, bounding pink blur launched herself toward my bed. It was my daughter. Our nanny followed her in, offering a helpless, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, sir. The little one insisted on seeing you. I couldn’t stop her.” I was filled with surprised joy and sat up quickly, pulling her into my arms. My daughter, Daisy, was wearing a pink princess dress, her cheeks plump and round. Her eyes, her entire face, were an undeniable, perfect mirror of Bianca Lowell. Kellan was utterly shocked. “Jude, you have a kid?” I looked up, smiling, and unexpectedly locked eyes with Bianca.

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As an experienced lead in the smut fiction genre, I had been diligent, fighting through the night with the male protagonist. When the System finally came online, it shrieked: [What in God’s name are you doing, Host! This is a Pure Redemption Romance! You two are supposed to be virgins until marriage!] In a panic, the System took advantage of the male lead’s deep sleep and frantically wiped all his memories. It was only then that I learned the truth. The System had malfunctioned and sent me to the wrong world. And the real heroine of the Redemption story was already knocking outside the flimsy apartment door. The next second, my wrist was clamped in an iron grip. Cain, his memory forcefully scrubbed clean, opened his eyes and looked at me, cold and lethal: “Who are you?” 1 I froze, completely thrown. I had no idea how to answer. The System was screaming in my head: [I told you to run! I told you to leave! Now look! He’s awake! How are you going to explain this mess?!] Feeling a wave of injustice, I mumbled back, “It’s your fault for sending me here! I thought Cain was my target.” The System’s voice went impossibly high: [And you slept with him?! Are you insane! This is the broody, pathologically obsessive male lead with a severe germ complex! In the early plot, if the heroine touched his finger, he’d scrub himself raw! [Do you think every world is like your trashy smut novels where everyone just sleeps around? He’s tainted! What is the actual heroine supposed to do now?!] I opened my mouth to respond. The knocking at the door became more insistent. “Cain? Are you home?” A gentle, sweet female voice. It was Delaney. The original, designated heroine of this timeline, Cain’s canonical partner. Cain’s brow furrowed. The grip on my wrist eased slightly, but only slightly. “Delaney…” He whispered the name, his expression shifting into one of profound pain. He seemed to be fighting to recall something, or maybe fighting something that was being recalled. After a moment, his expression slowly settled. A soft, almost unconscious tenderness crossed his features. “Hold on a second, I’m getting dressed,” he called out, raising his voice for the person outside the door. Delaney’s clear, light laugh sounded through the thin door. “No worries! I brought you breakfast. Hurry up and get ready, didn’t we plan to go sketching today?” “Sketching…?” Cain rubbed his temple, a flash of pure confusion in his eyes. He looked at the scattered art supplies and paints strewn across the floor. The easel was still standing, holding an unfinished canvas. A woman in a white dress was lying on the grass, propped up on her elbow reading a book. Only, the woman’s face was a blank space, unpainted. Cain stared at the canvas for a long, silent moment. Then, he abruptly turned and gave me a chilling once-over. He spoke one final, frigid sentence: “Take it off.” 2 I blinked. “Take… take what off?” Cain pursed his lips in annoyance and pointed at the dress I was wearing. It was the gift he’d bought me during our date yesterday. Working for minimum wage at a corner store, he must have saved for ages to afford it. The System shrieked with renewed urgency: [Take it off, Host! That dress is the official ‘memento’ of the heroes’ first meeting! He cherishes it!] In the original plotline, Delaney, a bright and vibrant girl, was meant to approach the brooding hero, gradually warming his cold heart. Cain was meant to be distant, only giving her the white dress as a courtesy for her birthday. The pivotal scene was when they went sketching outdoors. Cain set up his easel, ready to paint the landscape, and Delaney, in the white dress, would start dancing nearby. Cain, catching her figure in his peripheral vision, was meant to fall instantly and eternally in love. From that moment, Delaney’s one-sided crush would evolve into a mutual, destined love. Thus, this white dress was critically important to the cannon. Caught between the System’s frantic demands and Cain’s cold, utterly alien gaze, I started to panic. My hands fumbled as I tried to pull the dress off. I turned around, only to realize the hem of the white dress was thoroughly stained with paint—a large, ugly smear of dried color. My mind went blank. Oh no. 3 The System nearly went ballistic: [You, you, you… I have never worked with such a profoundly inept Host! Do you know how important that dress is? Later, when he’s rich, he spends a fortune at an auction to buy it back after the villain steals it! The heroine herself protects it like a relic! And you stained it?!] “I’m… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, giving Cain a weak, awkward bow. “I’ll buy you a new one. I promise.” My hands were suddenly stilled by his. “…Forget it. Don’t bother.” Cain frowned. “It’s just a dress. It doesn’t matter.” Delaney knocked again. “Ready yet? The pastry I brought you is getting cold!” Cain inhaled sharply, calling out to the door: “Sorry, Delaney, I… I twisted my ankle. I won’t be able to go sketching today.” Hearing this, Delaney immediately sounded worried: “Oh no! Is it bad? Should I take you to the clinic? “Just open the door so I can see!” Cain lied without batting an eye: “…No need. I haven’t even washed my face yet. I’m sorry you wasted a trip.” “Okay, I’ll leave your breakfast outside the door. Eat it, okay? I’m heading out now!” The sound of quick footsteps retreated down the hall. My shoulders, which had been tight with tension, finally relaxed. Cain tossed me a cheap, worn-out jacket of his own. “Put this on, and get out.” 4 I held his jacket. It smelled of that generic, cheap laundry detergent—a familiar scent from the real six weeks we had spent together. Seeing me hesitate, Cain gave a cold, cynical laugh. “Planning to walk out like that without a jacket? You’ve got hickeys all over your neck. Don’t you want the whole city to know you just left a man’s bed?” I looked at him. He was completely, utterly a stranger. So this was Cain’s true self, the person beneath the love-lorn mask: coldly detached, bordering on cruel. 5 My fate, I suppose, has always been a bit rough. For as long as I’ve been a “Host,” I’ve been relegated to the shallowest of smut worlds. The higher-level Systems wouldn’t touch me. I was too slow, too prone to making mistakes. The only missions they assigned me were the “no-brainers”—the spicy, low-stakes erotica where I just had to show up and perform. The Systems told me, “You don’t have to think, just lie there.” When I finally got the script for a Redemption Romance, I was genuinely elated. I read the script over and over and executed every key event perfectly. Cain’s affection for me grew exponentially. I started to daydream: Maybe someone as ordinary as me… could be a savior, a light in someone else’s darkness? Then came the novel’s climax. The hero and heroine had a fight, and the heroine was scripted to fake her death to “test” him. The night before the “death,” the script went blank—it was meant to be an open-ended scene. As an experienced smut-world Host, I took the initiative. I spiked Cain’s drink and claimed him for the entire night. That’s when the System finally showed up, late and frantic. It told me it messed up. I was in the wrong world. The real heroine was Delaney, not me. When it found out I had slept with the hero, it lost its mind, screaming at me for ruining everything. Cain opened the door to see Delaney was long gone. The pastry she brought was still steaming on the ground. I looked at the wisp of white steam and felt a wave of dizziness. So that’s how a Redemption Romance works. The heroes wait, they fall deeply in love over time, and they have a gentle, beautiful first night in a rose-petal-covered penthouse. But last night, in this shabby apartment, I had rushed and ruined it with Cain. It was his first time. He was clumsy and inexperienced, and he hurt me. But he was also deeply, profoundly moved. He had tears in his eyes, sobbing that he would be devoted to me forever. I was moved, too. I had finally met a real love interest, and I wanted to stay in this world forever. But it was all a mistake. The System had to forcefully wipe Cain’s memory to salvage the plot. My efforts were undone. He had forgotten me completely. 6 The System dragged me back to reality: [Stop wallowing! Look at your new script!] It threw a new section of the narrative at me. To explain my presence in the apartment—the “bug”—the System had forcefully implanted a new memory into Cain. The new story went like this: Cain loved Delaney but didn’t know it yet. He saw Delaney out with another guy (a “Rival”) and got jealous. He went to a bar to drink his pain away and ran into a cocktail waitress—me. I happened to have a slight resemblance to Delaney. Cain, drunk and confused, slept with me. Afterward, he was overwhelmed with shame and disgust, scrubbing himself repeatedly. But this terrible mistake helped him realize his true feelings for Delaney. [See? Not bad, right?]The System preened. [Thank God I’m an old-timer; I managed to cover the tracks for you.] I sniffed, not saying a word. I silently wrapped the jacket around me, ready to leave. My stomach, however, chose that moment to let out an embarrassingly loud growl. Cain, who was getting dressed, paused and glanced at me. “Jeez. You’re such a pain.” I rubbed my stomach and muttered under my breath, “It’s your fault. You kept me up all night…” “…” He tossed me a stale pastry. “Eat it, and then go.” Cain finished dressing and stood in front of the mirror, examining himself. He touched the hickeys on his neck, looking confused. The System crowed in my head: [He’s surprised by his accidental loss of virginity! He must feel horribly guilty! Delaney’s affection score is about to skyrocket!] [Wait… no!]It suddenly shrieked. [I rewrote his entire memory file! Why is his affection score for Delaney still zero?!] The System was completely stunned. It went offline to contact its superiors to check the data. I quietly bit into the pastry, and my face immediately crumpled. Seeing Cain reach for another one, I lunged and snatched it away. “Don’t eat that! “It has carrots! You can’t eat carrots!” 7 Cain was violently allergic to carrots. He’d once accidentally consumed a small piece and suffered anaphylactic shock. I had spent night after night at the hospital at his bedside. Cain immediately dropped the pastry, his expression one of pure bewilderment. “How… how did you know I’m allergic to carrots?” “…I guessed.” I was afraid the System would come back online and berate me if I delayed any longer. I finished getting dressed and quickly yanked the door open. Cain followed me, insistent. “Who are you? Do you know me?” Suddenly, a voice rang out from the side: “Cain, you finally came out! Oh, who is this?” A fresh-faced girl with a high ponytail was standing at the threshold. It was Delaney. She had circled back for some reason. Delaney stood tall in her crisp white dress, pure and innocent. I was bundled in Cain’s oversized jacket, disheveled and frantic. Cain frowned. “Why are you still here?” I used the brief moment of distraction to slip past them, running without looking back. Behind me, Delaney’s voice was breaking: “Cain, who was that? Why was she coming out of your place? “You need to explain! “Talk to me! Aren’t we friends? Why are you being so cold to me today?” I ran, head down, my heart aching. I knew my part was over. This was a Redemption story, meant to be beautiful, innocent, and pure. And I, a heroine from a smut novel, had no business here. I darted into the street. A large truck suddenly swerved around the corner and smashed into me. I was thrown violently into the air. In the distance, Cain paused for a split second, then bolted toward me, screaming like a madman. “Noooo!” I closed my eyes. The System’s voice rang out in my head, a sound of profound relief: [Mission accomplished. World narrative repaired. Host, you will now be sent to your next smut world.] 8 I think I was unconscious for a long time. When I woke up, I was in a shabby, familiar rental apartment. I bolted upright, a gasp of emotion escaping my lips: “Cain! Are you here?!” The room was empty. No one was there. My fevered brain slowly started to calm down. I realized this wasn’t Cain’s apartment now. I looked around. The familiar closet, the faded curtains… And the small, slightly chipped trinket on the bedside table. This was the subterranean apartment I lived in when I first arrived in this world. Wait a second. That means— I was still in Cain’s world?! [Yes, that is correct, Host. You’re still here.] The System suddenly came back online, startling me. It huffed, [I was trying to send you to the next world, but after you were hit by the truck, that boy, Cain, went absolutely insane. He wouldn’t let go of your body. His obsession was too strong; I couldn’t extract you.] “So where… where am I now?” The System continued: [Cain’s obsession interfered with the transport. Instead of sending you out, I accidentally sent you forward—six years ahead.] I was silent. Six years. [For the sake of the mission, I had to completely wipe Cain’s memory again. That finally settled him down. But my energy is completely depleted, I can’t send you anywhere else.] I asked urgently, “What about Cain? How is he now?” [He’s great. Two memory wipes and the constant presence of Delaney, the proper heroine—he’s thriving. He’s a tech mogul now. [Oh, his affection score for Delaney is at 99. Once it hits 100, Delaney completes the mission, and you’ll finally be released from this world.] I finally understood. I was redundant. I just had to wait for Delaney to finish the job. All I had to do was lay low. 9 Having lost my heroine status, I was just an ordinary person in this world now. Regardless, life had to go on. The System fixed my injuries. I rested for a few days, then went out to look for a job. I walked the streets all day with no luck. I was, however, struck by the sheer number of advertisements. Delaney. She was now a huge movie star, famous across the country. Her giant digital billboards were everywhere, even in this small, overlooked section of the city. In the picture, she was impeccably made up, smiling radiantly into the camera. The System, viewing her through my eyes, sighed contentedly: [This world is almost over. Good.] [Those two little lost souls, Cain the tech new-money genius and Delaney the sweetheart actress, finally got their happy ending. They’ll be blissfully happy for the rest of their lives.] My throat felt tight. “Yes… they will be very happy.” I wandered for a long time. As the sky darkened, I finally realized where I was. This was an abandoned warehouse district, slated for demolition. It was deserted and dilapidated. I stood in front of an entrance marked “Antiques & Salvage,” next to a dark, descending stairwell. The floodgates of memory burst open— This used to be a hidden underground fight club. And this was where I had first met Cain.

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Just before our wedding, Ryan and I got into yet another blowout fight over whether my name should be on the deed to our future house. Not long after, he posted a picture of a brand-new car on Instagram with the caption: “Some people need to stop being so calculating. Trying to divide my assets before we’ve even walked down the aisle? Sorry, not sorry—I used the house down payment to buy this baby in full!” The comment section was a sea of his bros hyping him up, calling him a “legend” for not letting a gold-digger win. I was about to call him to ask what the hell he was thinking when a stream of live comments suddenly floated before my eyes: [Ugh, the male lead is just being led astray by his toxic friends. Deep down, he really wants a family with her.] [The female lead is being too much. Her parents have the money to buy them a house anyway, why force him to use his hard-earned savings and still insist on her name being on the deed?] [If she just promised that her parents’ future house would have his name on it too, he wouldn’t be this angry.] I thought those comments were full of crap. I asked for my name on that deed because my parents weren’t asking for a single cent in wedding traditions, and they were giving us a $30,000 gift to start our lives. The next second, my phone buzzed. It was a text from the very “bro” who had been cheering the loudest in the comments. “Downtown penthouse, paid in full. I’ll put it in your name before we sign the papers. Will you marry me instead?” 1 The text was from Lucas Miller, Ryan’s supposed “best friend.” I stared at the words until the screen felt like it was burning my eyes. The live comments continued to scroll: [DON’T REPLY! This is a trap! Ryan’s best friend is just testing your loyalty!] [If she replies, Ryan will never forgive her. He’s just being stubborn right now!] I didn’t reply—because at that moment, Ryan walked through the front door. He tossed a set of car keys onto the entryway table with a heavy clack. “I’m tired, Winona. I don’t want to fight anymore.” He walked straight to the sofa, burying himself in the cushions without a single glance in my direction. I forced down my rage. “Ryan, what the hell is this? The car?” He let out a sharp, mocking snort. “Can’t you read? It means we aren’t buying the house. I bought the car instead.” I clenched my fists. “That money… my parents contributed to that. We saved together for years. What gave you the right to spend it all on your own?” He finally looked up, his eyes dripping with venom. “That $30,000 gift from your parents? We both know it was just a bribe to snatch half the equity of my home. You’re a sharp one, Winona. I’ll give you that.” “But let me be clear: this car is my property. It has nothing to do with you. I don’t need your family’s pathetic handouts.” I felt the blood drain from my face. My parents had been nothing but supportive. And in his mouth, it was a “calculated scheme.” The comments flashed again: [See? He’s just hurt. He’s terrified that if he gives you everything, you’ll leave him.] I looked at his cold face and realized I didn’t recognize him anymore. “Fine. You bought the car,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “So, when do you plan on paying me back my share of the savings?” He looked at me like I’d just told a hilarious joke. “Your share? Winona, we’ve lived together for three years. Who paid for the steaks? The rent? The utilities? If I actually kept a ledger, you’d owe me a fortune.” “I’ll give you three days to get your stuff and get out.” “I need some space to re-evaluate if this relationship is even worth the headache.” He put his noise-canceling headphones on and closed his eyes. Communication over. 2 I started packing immediately. Ryan watched me with a smirk, convinced I was just putting on a show. On the third day, his mother called. The second I picked up, she started screaming. “Winona, how can you be so selfish? So he bought a car—so what? A man needs a decent vehicle to be respected! It’s an investment in his image!” “A girl like you shouldn’t be out there alone. It’s dangerous. Just go back, swallow your pride, and fix this.” I spoke up then. “Mrs. Sterling, we broke up. I’m moving out today.” There was a stunned silence, then her voice came back twice as sharp. “Break up? You wouldn’t dare! You’ve wasted five years on my son. Who else is going to want you now? You’re damaged goods!” Click. She hung up. That evening, Ryan came home with his entourage. Lucas was among them. They hauled in crates of beer, laughing as if they’d just won the Super Bowl. Ryan walked over and kicked my suitcase. It hit the wall with a dull thud. “Still playing house, Winona? You actually packed.” His friends started jeering. “Ryan, man, looks like she’s trying to give you an ultimatum.” “Women… just let her walk around the block. She’ll be back by midnight.” I ignored them and reached for my suitcase. A hand stopped me. It was Lucas. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he looked at Ryan. “Ryan, cool it. This is getting out of hand.” Ryan shoved him away. “Mind your business, Lucas!” I stood up straight and looked Ryan dead in the eye. “First of all, don’t call me Winnie. It’s Winona to you.” “Second, you kicked my property. You damage it, you pay for it.” “Third, I’m not apologizing. You are.” The room went dead silent. Ryan’s face turned a violent shade of purple. He grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it against the floor. “You ungrateful bitch!” he roared. Lucas moved instantly, grabbing Ryan’s arm. “Ryan! You’re losing it!” I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. “Hey, Dad. Is the moving crew here? Give them the gate code.” “Yeah, it’s a little loud. Just saying goodbye to some trash.” My father’s deep, calm voice filled the room via speaker. “I’m right outside, honey. The guys are coming up now. Dad’s got you.” Lucas looked at me, and for a split second, I saw respect in his eyes. 3 The movers arrived and cleared my things in under an hour. Ryan stood in the middle of the living room, watching my life being carried out in boxes. “Winona, you think you’re so tough, huh? You leave this room today, don’t you ever think about crawling back!” I ignored him. I added up the total of our shared savings on my phone, including the $30,000 gift, and messaged it to him. “Ryan, the total is $37,860. I want my share back within three days. Otherwise, I’ll see you in small claims court.” I blocked him on everything instantly. As I walked out, Lucas called out, “Winona.” He stepped forward and draped a jacket over my shoulders. “It’s cold out,” he said softly. “You’re doing the right thing.” Downstairs, my dad opened the car door for me. “Let’s go home, Winona.” When we got home, after dinner, my dad handed me a leather folder. “This is the deed to a condo downtown. Paid in full. It’s in your name.” “We are your safety net, honey. Always.” The next day, I moved into my new place. I pulled up Lucas’s text message and replied: “ID card, brought it?” My phone buzzed instantly. “In the car. I’ve been downstairs at your place.” I pulled back the curtain. Downstairs, Lucas was leaning against his SUV, looking up at my floor. The live comments exploded: [NO!!! Winona, how can you do this! What about Ryan?!] [It’s a trap! Lucas and Ryan are definitely in on this together!] I ignored the noise. I had spent five years listening to other people’s voices. It was time to listen to my own. 4 The next day, I met Ryan at a coffee shop. He showed up looking smug. “So? Regrets? Ready to apologize?” I didn’t say a word. I just slid a manila envelope across the table. Inside were the rental agreement for the “new car” he claimed to have bought, and a stack of betting slips. His face turned paper-white. “How… how did you get these?” “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Give me my money back. Also, you handle the $50,000 debt you took out co-signing my name illegally. It has nothing to do with me.” “I can’t!” he hissed. “It’s all gone!” “Then that’s your problem. You have three days before these documents go to your parents and your boss.” Ryan collapsed into his chair, looking like a ghost. Over the next two days, I got a dozen calls from his mom screaming at me, but I blocked them all. On the third afternoon, my phone pinged. $37,860. To the cent. A moment later, a text from Lucas: “Done.” Lucas picked me up for dinner. Over wine, he told me the rest. Ryan had to sell his parents’ house to pay me back. He lost his job, and collectors were at his door. I looked at Lucas. “Why are you doing all this?” He put down his fork. “Winona, I’ve known you longer than Ryan has.” 5 “Sophomore year. The spring gala. You were the emcee,” Lucas said. “I was the guy running the soundboard. I never forgot you.” “Later, Ryan said he was going to ask you out. I stayed quiet because back then, I didn’t have much to my name.” He laughed, a bit bitter. “I had to watch him win you over. I had to watch him treat you like a queen, and then watch him treat you like garbage.” “I wanted to tell you the truth a thousand times. But I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” I listened, my heart aching. “So, that text… you really want to marry me?” He nodded firmly. “I do. I’ll wait as long as it takes.” When he drove me home, we saw Ryan huddled by the building entrance. Ryan snapped. “WINONA! I knew it! You were cheating on me!” Lucas stepped out, blocking him. “Watch your mouth, Ryan.” Ryan pulled a small pocketknife out. He held it to his own arm. “You go home with him, and I do it right here!” I looked at Ryan and felt nothing but disgust. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, I’m at the corner of 5th and Main. There’s a man with a weapon threatening self-harm. Please send an officer.” Ryan froze. He clearly didn’t expect me to actually call the cops. “Stop the act, Ryan,” I said. “If you want to throw your life away, don’t do it on my doorstep.” 6 The police arrived in minutes. Ryan was tackled and cuffed, screaming my name as they put him in the car. His mother arrived, lunging at me, but Lucas caught her. “You witch! You destroyed my son!” she screamed. My father walked right up to her. “Ma’am, if you continue to harass her, I have a team of lawyers who will make sure you lose the little you have left.” The drama was finally over. For the next few weeks, things were quiet. Lucas messaged me every day. Morning and night. He shared books he liked, music, funny things that happened at the firm. We were friends, but a spark was growing. A few weeks later, Ryan was sentenced. Lucas had found records of Ryan’s illegal gambling—millions of dollars through offshore accounts. Ryan was looking at ten years. My parents adored Lucas. They officially transferred the condo into both our names as a wedding present. Lucas tried to refuse, but my dad told him: “This is for Winona’s security. Take it.” 7 Our wedding was small. Lucas looked at me with eyes so full of love it almost hurt. My father placed my hand in his. “Take care of her.” “With my life, sir.” As we exchanged rings, a final line of text flashed across my vision: [Congratulations, Winona. You found the real one. 🌸] And then, the text vanished forever. We went to the Maldives for our honeymoon. Lucas was so attentive. He treated me like I was the most important person in the world. Sometimes I wonder… what if I had stayed with Ryan? I’d probably be hiding from debt collectors right now. When we got back, we moved into our new home. “Wait,” I said one night. “Did you really buy that penthouse in full?” He turned around, looking innocent. “Of course not. I didn’t have that kind of money back then. My savings would have barely covered a down payment on a garage.” “So you were bluffing?” “I had to get your attention, didn’t I?” He kissed my neck. “But don’t worry. I’ve got the money now. You want a house on the moon? I’ll find a way.” 8 Finally, he arrived! I went straight to Ryan’s desk. He was casually sipping a latte. When he saw me, he put on a wide, fake smile. “Winona! Missed you!” I didn’t smile back. “Where’s my money?” “Tough luck, Winona. Your request was denied. Credentials error.” Looking at the smug glint in his eyes, I knew he was messing with me. “Dr. Miller needs this immediately,” I said. Ryan’s eyes flared. “Stop throwing a tantrum. I follow company policy.” “Mr. Sterling, you are confirming this process cannot proceed? Fine.” I turned and walked out. Ms. Lee, from Finance, complained behind me: “Ryan! Dr. Miller signed it! What protocol are you talking about?” I resubmitted everything through the official portal and updated Dr. Miller. He replied: [Is Finance giving you a hard time? Unbelievable. They spend the company’s money like it’s their own!] Before the workday was over, the process cleared.

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I’m a coward. When I get scared, I lose control and wet myself. My short-tempered, straight roommate thought I was disgusting. So he shoved me into the dorm of his arch-nemesis, Caleb Thorne, a notorious germaphobe. He miscalculated. Caleb didn’t throw me out, nor did he lose sleep over my “filth.” Instead, he patiently washed me clean, bought me absorbent pads, and trimmed the hair covering my eyes. He dressed me up beautifully and took me to a high-society banquet. At the party, my former roommate stared, jaw dropped: “Where did you find this beauty? Damn, she’s breathtaking.” Caleb wrapped his arm around my waist and said coolly: “You personally delivered him to me. Don’t you recognize him?” “Also, he’s not my date. He’s my wife.” 1 I am the gloomy outcast everyone despises. Overgrown hair, ill-fitting clothes, head always lowered. And because I’m timid. A stray cat jumping out of a bush can scare me into incontinence. People keep a five-meter distance from me wherever I go. Three months into sharing a dorm, Jaxson Hayes, the rich young master, finally had enough of me. The fuse was lit when people started spreading rumors about him and me, causing his girlfriend to dump him. He stormed back into the room. The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang. My heart contracted in fear, and I wet my pants again. The embarrassing smell spread through the air. Jaxson saw the perfume on the desk he intended to give his girlfriend. With a backhand swing, he splashed the entire bottle on me. “Useless dog who can’t even hold his pee! Disgusting!” “Go back to where you came from! You deserve to be beaten to death!” I coughed in the cloud of strong perfume. My living expenses for a semester were only $300. I couldn’t afford increasingly expensive adult diapers. I could only drink very little water. I sewed a washable pad using layers of fabric. But the smell couldn’t be completely hidden. I disgusted myself with the smell on my body. Let alone Jaxson, who wasn’t related to me. But I couldn’t go back. Not to that nightmare of a home. I clutched the hem of Jaxson’s shirt with my skinny fingers. “Master Hayes, please, I’ll do anything for you, just don’t kick me out, my stepbrother will beat me to death…” When school started, my stepdad thought the $300 annual dorm fee was too expensive and wanted me to live at home. So the school didn’t save a bed for me. He was rarely home and didn’t know my stepbrother, Wayne, tortured me daily. Later, Jaxson accidentally saved me from Wayne. By then, I was tortured to within an inch of my life. Jaxson softened and let me stay in his single dorm room at school. I tried every way to please him, daring not to breathe too loud, afraid of angering him and being kicked out. But I failed to earn his favor in the end. I merely touched the hem of his shirt. That custom-made jacket went straight into the trash can. Jaxson shook me off in disgust: “How can I wear something touched by your dirty hands?” After saying this, his eyes suddenly lit up. “Caleb Thorne is such a clean freak, he must hate people like you.” “Go disgust him. As long as he’s unhappy, I’m happy. If I’m in a good mood, you can move back, deal?” “Really?” Jaxson was too lazy to talk nonsense with me. He kicked me hard in the lower back and smirked: “His dorm is opposite. Get lost. I can’t wait to see him lose his cool and curse like a maniac.” 2 Caleb Thorne was also a rich young master. Compared to the fiery and impulsive Jaxson, he appeared calm and distant. Their families were close, and they grew up together. But Caleb always managed to crush Jaxson with unbelievable achievements. Jaxson’s kick was heavy. My lower abdomen had been aching, and now my tailbone felt broken. It had only been three months without a beating; how did I get so delicate? I sneaked into Caleb’s dorm. No one was there. The air smelled of fresh lemon. Caleb was indeed a clean freak. The floor was spotless. Books on the shelf were uniformly covered in black jackets. All miscellaneous items were stored in black boxes. Dirty me became the only disharmony in this space. I didn’t forget my mission. Just as I was about to smear a black handprint on the wall, Caleb returned from the library. Handsome features, elegant posture, completely out of my league. Seeing a high-altitude flower defiled and pulled down from the altar must be very satisfying. But seeing the damage I caused, Caleb didn’t even frown. “What did Jaxson send you here for?” Caleb’s deep black eyes seemed to expose all sins. I retracted my hand in embarrassment, hiding the dirty wall behind my body, silent. Caleb guessed it. “He wants you to dirty my dorm?” He put down his backpack and tidied up the bookshelf I messed up: “What conditions did he offer you? I’ll double it.” “Money, or whatever, I can give you.” I bit the dead skin on my lips, confessing vaguely: “As long as I disgust you, he promised not to kick me out. You can’t double that.” No one would want to live in the same dorm as me. Jaxson agreed to keep me because he could live off-campus; he rarely attended classes anyway. But Caleb was different. His life was disciplined. Classroom, gym, cafeteria, library, dorm. Every day. From Jaxson’s dorm opposite, I could see him through the window every day. Leaving at 7:05 AM sharp, returning at 10:50 PM. He was also sharp. Every time I peeked at him, he accurately caught my voyeuristic gaze. He wouldn’t talk to me, just stare at me until my inferiority complex surged, scaring me into wetting my pants and fleeing. Caleb stopped what he was doing. “I can.” His voice was cool but clear. “You can move in and live with me. I won’t kick you out until you graduate.” “However, living here, you must follow my rules and listen to me.” 3 Caleb was indeed different from Jaxson. He actually drafted an agreement on the spot and had us both sign it. Caleb agreed to let me live in the dorm for four years. I promised never to help Jaxson cause trouble again. No matter how you look at it, I won. After signing, I was herded into the bathroom. Caleb had mysophobia and couldn’t stand dirty things in front of him. I took off my soaked pants. Caleb is so scary. Talking to him for a while made my lower body lose all sensation, like a paralyzed person. Jaxson didn’t throw my soap over. I dared not use the bottles with English labels on Caleb’s shelf. I could only squat on the ground, desperately scrubbing the pants that smelled of urine. I squatted for too long, so when I stood up, I got dizzy and blacked out. I fell hard, pulling down Caleb’s towel. The bottles on the rack smashed onto me, rolling on the floor with a clang. The place kicked by Jaxson hurt again, and I couldn’t get up. I could only let the free cold water hit me continuously. Hot water cost 5 cents a minute; I couldn’t bear to use it. Hearing my commotion, the bathroom door was indeed pushed open. I was exposed to Caleb’s sight in my most wretched state. I held my head, prepared to be cursed as a disgusting freak and beaten up. But Caleb’s face was calm. He just rolled up his sleeves, took off his watch and placed it outside, and walked barefoot into the wet shower. “You really don’t know how to shower.” He helped me up, looking calm as if he noticed nothing abnormal. The machine beeped. Caleb circled me with one arm and swiped his card to turn on the hot water with the other. “If you don’t know how, I’ll just teach you.” Steamy water poured down from the showerhead, trapping both Caleb and me in it. This was my first hot shower since high school. Hot water is good; it’s hot like tears. I can cry, and Caleb, with his back to me, won’t notice anything wrong. 4 Caleb was meticulous, famous for his seriousness. Even the organ I hated received detailed treatment. The water stopped. Caleb went out and came back with a large, soft bath towel, wrapping me up. I was thin, like a piece of paper. Caleb’s towel could wrap around me twice. He was soaked himself. After letting me out, he immediately closed the bathroom door to clean himself up. I looked around the floor. The clothes and blanket I brought were thrown away by Caleb. Although he touched me all over like washing pork… In the end, he still thought I was dirty. Not long after, Caleb walked out with a towel around his waist. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. The figure I always envied. Seeing me still wrapped in the towel, he paused. “Sorry.” In just a short while, his cold voice had become huskily sexy. He took out his clothes and signaled me to put them on. I only put on an oversized top that covered my butt. I didn’t want to dirty Caleb’s clean pants that smelled of lemon. Caleb obviously knew about my incontinence problem. He took a pack of adult diapers from a delivery bag hanging on the door handle. “If you can’t control it, use these. It isolates the smell, and you won’t catch a cold wearing wet pants in winter.” “When sleeping at night, you can use a pad. I haven’t bought one yet, so wear the diaper tonight.” Caleb supervised me putting on the pants. He was barely satisfied when I was fully dressed in his pajamas, which were a size too big for me. “Your clothes and blanket were dirty, I threw them away. I’ll buy new ones to compensate you.” Blanket thrown away… where do I sleep tonight? I dared not ask. My slightly long hair wet a large patch on the pajama shoulder. Seeing this, Caleb found a hairdryer to dry my hair. The warm wind and the fingers gently combing through my hair made me drowsy. I didn’t know when I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was bright outside. There was regular warm breathing by my neck, making my body stiffen unnaturally. Thinking of bad experiences. I couldn’t control myself biting my nails, twitching nervously. The person holding me woke up. Greeting me was not a slap, but a “Good morning.” I stiffened, daring not turn back or respond. The burning temperature left, and cool air poured into the blanket. Caleb went to the balcony to take a call. “Just woke up late, nothing happened, don’t worry.” Because of me, Caleb, who always had a disciplined life, was late for the first time. After hanging up, he caught me peeking at him again. “Since you’re awake, don’t pretend to sleep.” Rustling sounds of rummaging through plastic bags came from the desk. Caleb handed me another diaper. “You have to change this often, or it will smell and cause rashes.” “If you still don’t know how to clean yourself, I don’t mind helping you like last night.” This was a Caleb-style threat. 5 Caleb didn’t let me pay a cent. He said since his mysophobia required me to stay clean, he shouldn’t make me pay for it. I wore soft clothes I had never worn before. The bedding was no longer a thin sheet washed until it had holes. Caleb bought me the same four-piece set as his bed. The reason was the style must be unified. I shared body wash and shampoo with him. Because he couldn’t stand other smells in his space. For example, that day, I appeared in his dorm carrying the scent of Jaxson’s girlfriend’s perfume. He said he disliked that feeling very much. Living under someone’s roof, I remembered it with fear. Caleb emphasized again: “Also, since you’ve been turned by me, stay away from Jaxson.” “If I find out you contact him, I’ll deal with you.” This wasn’t strange. Because Caleb and Jaxson were deadly rivals. It’s normal to hate each other. So when I pushed the door open and saw Jaxson standing there, I lowered my head and hurried past him without a word. Jaxson scoffed, extended his long arm to grab my collar, and slammed me against the wall. He pressed the back of my head, whispering sinisterly in my ear: “I told you to disgust Caleb, what have you been doing? Forgot whose dog you are?” “What did he bribe you with, just these clothes?” Jaxson’s hand slid under my clothes, pressing against my waist. His hand was hot like charcoal. I didn’t know what he wanted to do, got goosebumps, and struggled: “Let go! Let go!” In the struggle, his hand accidentally pressed on the injury on my lower back. I trembled like I was electrocuted, screaming instantly from the sharp pain. Jaxson, like a hyena smelling blood, immediately pressed hard on that spot without letting go: “You really embarrass me. Do you know, whatever they say about me can’t compare to Caleb. Even my dog wags its tail for him!” “Take this off. Just clothes, I can buy them for you too!” I clutched the hem of my clothes tightly, silent. This meant refusal. After Mom remarried, no one bought me new clothes for many years. Although Caleb did it for his mysophobia and OCD. But I did receive several sets of beautiful, fitting new clothes. Jaxson didn’t give up, trying to strip me himself. He was much stronger than me, who was chronically underfed. All my resistance was like tickling him. The shirt was rolled up to my chest. I gave up resisting. Asked him calmly: “Didn’t Master Hayes think I couldn’t hold my pee and was disgusting?” “You touched me for so long, are you going to chop off your hands when you go back?”

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The Grand Bay Bridge project was the talk of the nation. And my wife was letting the new summer intern swap out high-grade explosives for blue fireworks. I tried to stop it, but the intern just shoved a termination letter in my face. “Who the hell are you to question me? Just some grunt,” he sneered. “Do you have any idea who my girlfriend is?” With a flick of his lighter, he set fire to the bridge blueprints—three years of my life’s work. “Blue fireworks are just the start,” he bragged. “When this bridge is finished, it’s gonna have my name on it!” My eyes locked onto his left hand, onto the ring he wore on his fourth finger. It was my wedding ring, the one that had vanished without a trace three months ago. I just smiled and calmly pulled out my phone to call the National Bridge Authority. “I hear the Grand Bay project has been handed over to a private contractor,” I said into the phone. “In that case, you can count me out.” 1 After hanging up, I looked up just in time to see Derek tossing the rest of the architectural plans out the window. He casually lit a cigarette, his eyes raking over me with pure contempt. “You could call God Almighty himself,” he said, blowing smoke in my direction. “You’re still getting thrown out of here today.” I watched the papers, my life’s work, flutter down into the water below, the ink bleeding as they became useless pulp. My fists clenched. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. “Do you have any idea what you just threw away? You couldn’t pay for that with a hundred lifetimes!” Before I could do anything else, security guards had me by the arms, hauling me out and dumping me on the floor outside the conference room. Derek strolled out and flicked his cigarette ash onto my face, his laughter loud and arrogant. “It’s just a few pieces of paper. Only a nobody like you would get so worked up.” “I’m the director in charge, hand-picked by Ms. Stone herself. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell out of my sight.” His words sent the rest of the team in the conference room into a fit of laughter. “Derek is a top graduate from a prestigious university. A few blueprints? He could whip those up in his sleep.” “Yeah, and he’s Karina Stone’s future husband! He’s the boss’s man. Firing a barking dog like you is nothing!” Ignoring the sharp pain in my knees, I stared up at the smug face of Derek and spoke, each word deliberate. “Karina’s husband?” “I dare you to have her come here and say that to my face.” I couldn’t believe it. The woman who had slept in my bed last night, the woman who had promised we would go public with our secret marriage as soon as the Grand Bay project was officially underway… was now Derek’s fiancée? Derek deliberately flashed the ring on his finger, a triumphant smirk on his face. My eyes widened. Because the ring on his hand was the one I had custom-designed for my proposal. There wasn’t another one like it in the world. But my ring had gone missing three months ago. At the time, Karina had comforted me, suggesting I might have left it somewhere at my desk during a late night of work. I had searched every inch of my workspace, over and over, but found nothing. Now I understood. The ring, along with her heart, had been given to another man. How could I ever have found it? Derek’s cold sneer came from above. “Who do you think you are? You think my girl would waste her time coming down here for you?” “But hey, if you want to keep your job, I’ll give you a chance. Get on your knees, bow three times, and swear you’ll never question my decisions again. Then, maybe I’ll let you stay.” I remained standing, my gaze sweeping over the sycophants standing behind him. “The blasting work on the cliffside is no joke. Every ounce of explosive was precisely calculated. Making last-minute changes, let alone using blue fireworks, could jeopardize a national project. Are any of you prepared to take responsibility for that?” My question silenced the room. Only Derek remained unfazed, scoffing. “Alex, cut the crap. You’re just trying to scare everyone.” “You’re just jealous Karina gave me this project, so you’re trying to drag my name through the mud.” “Don’t forget, I’m her man. Even if something goes wrong, she’ll have my back!” Just then, the office door swung open. Karina Stone stood in the doorway. 2 The moment Derek saw her, he immediately put on a victim act. “Karina, you’re finally here! Alex is publicly questioning my plans! He even threatened to have me kicked off the project.” Karina’s cold gaze fell on me, her voice devoid of any warmth. “Alex, who gave you the authority to fire my people?” I tried to explain. “First of all, I didn’t try to fire him. He tried to fire me. And second, his material budget is completely unreasonable.” “Karina,” I pressed, “are you really going to let your boy-toy turn this into a death trap that will endanger innocent people?” The words were barely out of my mouth when her hand swung through the air. The sharp crack of her palm against my cheek echoed in the room, leaving a stinging, red imprint. “A filthy mind sees filth everywhere,” she hissed. “Derek is a top architectural graduate from Yale. He’s a genius I personally recruited at great expense. How could there possibly be a problem with his plans?” “You, on the other hand, are spreading malicious rumors out of sheer jealousy. You owe Derek an apology. Now.” I poked the inside of my cheek with my tongue, a bitter taste flooding my mouth. I couldn’t remember the last time Karina had defended me so fiercely. A top graduate from Yale? Funny. As a visiting professor at Yale’s School of Architecture, I had never once heard the name Derek. She had no idea. The only reason her company, Stone Construction, was even the primary contractor for the Grand Bay Bridge was as a favor to me. The board wanted me on the project, and this was the easiest way to do it. She’d used my influence to get ahead, and now she was ready to kick me to the curb? Before I could process it all, Karina had walked over to Derek, her voice soft and doting. “Don’t you worry. As long as I’m here, no one gets to question your talent.” Derek put on a deeply wounded expression. “Karina, maybe it’s better if we just let Alex take over the project. After all this slander, how am I supposed to build a career in this industry?” His words only made Karina more protective, and her glare at me intensified. “Alex, if you want to stay at this company, you will apologize to Derek this instant!” “Otherwise, pack your things and get out!” Seeing how fiercely Karina was defending Derek, the other employees didn’t hesitate to start kissing up to him. “Ms. Stone, you have no idea. Alex has been throwing his weight around for weeks, acting like he owns the place just because you two are close!” “Exactly! Derek earned his position with real skill, unlike some people who just like to ride on others’ coattails.” Listening to their accusations, Karina’s expression grew even colder. “Alex, you’re completely out of control! You helped me with one small project, and suddenly you think you can walk all over the experts I hire?” “If I let you keep this up, you’ll run my company into the ground!” Her eyes narrowed. “From this moment on, you are no longer the chief engineer of this project. You’re Derek’s assistant. You will report directly to him and follow his orders, and his alone.” I looked at the woman I had spent the last five years of my life with and let out a bitter laugh. To help her company gain a foothold in the industry, I had turned down countless offers from top firms, both domestic and international. I’d even pulled strings with my family to help her land this massive, high-profile bridge project. And what did I get in return? My beloved wife was sleeping with some two-bit intern who had appeared out of nowhere. She’d even given him our wedding ring. Karina was now whispering intimately with Derek, her eyes filled with admiration and affection. Every so often, Derek would shoot a triumphant glance my way. Noticing I was still standing there, motionless, Karina’s tenderness vanished, replaced by sharp impatience. “Well, Assistant Ryder? Are you just going to stand there? Apologize to Director Collins!” In that moment, something inside me died. I met her gaze, my voice flat and steady. “Karina. Let’s get a divorce.” 3 Karina froze for a second. Then, a strange, unreadable emotion flickered in her eyes. “Alex, are you sure about this? You’re the one asking for it. I’m not forcing you.” I immediately understood the implication. She’d wanted this all along. She was just waiting for me to be the one to say it. No wonder she’d been so brazenly favoring Derek. A self-mocking smile touched my lips. “I’m sure.” The next second, she strode into her office and returned with a file, which she tossed onto the table in front of me. “In that case, sign it.” I opened it. Just as I suspected, it was a divorce agreement, already drafted and waiting. Her signature was already at the bottom in neat, confident script. As I read through the terms, my brow furrowed tighter and tighter. “Karina, you want me to walk away with nothing?” She looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s right. You leave with nothing. Alex, those were your own words, on our wedding day.” “Since you seem to have forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory.” She turned on the projector, and a short video played on the wall. There I was, in my wedding tuxedo, holding a bouquet, my face beaming with pure happiness. A voice from off-camera asked, “Alex, what if one day you do something to hurt Karina, or what if you’re the one who asks for a divorce?” My voice in the video was firm, unwavering. “That will never, ever happen.” “Come on, all men say that!” the voice teased. “You have to make a real promise, on camera!” I turned to look at Karina, radiant in her white dress, a vision of perfection. Tears of joy were glistening in my eyes. “If that day ever comes,” I declared, “I will walk away with nothing but the clothes on my back.” “Karina Stone, I love you. I will only ever love you.” The video ended, freezing on that final frame. Karina tapped a manicured finger on the conference table, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Alex, you’re not going to deny something you said yourself, on camera, are you?” I stared at the frozen image on the wall. The two of us, gazing at each other, with nothing but love in our eyes. But in the room, the real her stood beside another man, backing me into a corner. When that video was made, I truly believed Karina and I would grow old together. It turns out, what I thought was a lifetime was only five short years. The other employees now looked at me with a mixture of pity and scorn. Derek, on the other hand, could barely contain the greedy excitement in his eyes. “Karina.” My voice was eerily calm now. “As you wish. I’ll leave with nothing.” “And one more thing. I’m officially withdrawing from the Grand Bay Bridge project.” After signing the papers, I turned to leave, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of that room. “Stop.” Karina’s sharp voice cut through the air. I paused but didn’t turn around. “Alex, the project has already started. You can’t just walk away whenever you feel like it. The personnel list has already been filed with the National Bridge Authority. If you go out there spreading lies and slandering me and Derek, who’s going to take responsibility for the fallout?” “What do you want?” “You can leave, but only after the NBA officially approves your withdrawal. Until then, you will stay here and do your job as Derek’s assistant.” I whipped around, my eyes wide with disbelief. Taking everything I owned wasn’t enough? She wanted me to stay and endure Derek’s daily humiliation too? Derek gave me a malicious, triumphant smile. “Well then, Assistant Ryder. I look forward to working with you.”

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The day I was diagnosed with cancer, I ran home, ecstatic, clutching the test results. The front door opened. My parents and brother were, as always, surrounding the fake heiress, coddling her. I rushed in, slammed the report on the table, and said: “Mom, Dad, Ethan, I have stomach cancer. It’s terminal. I won’t live past three months.” They froze. My heart swelled with anticipation, expecting to see their faces twist with regret. I thought, even if they cried and begged on their knees, I wouldn’t forgive them. But the scene I imagined never happened. They passed the diagnosis report around in silence. Finally, Dad spoke, asking me: “What kind of urn do you want?” Mom chimed in too: “Three months from now is Chloe’s debutante ball. So your funeral can’t be too big. It would be bad luck!” There was no dramatic regret, no chasing me to the crematorium. I died alone on the day of Chloe’s debutante ball. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first brought home. 1 My stomach still seemed to cramp with phantom pain, but the noise around me suddenly grew loud. I snapped my eyes open, just in time to see Chloe sobbing in Mom’s arms. The next instant, before I could recover from the daze of rebirth, I felt a violent shove. I stumbled and fell to the floor. Looking up, I met Ethan’s hostile gaze. “I’m telling you, I only recognize Chloe as my sister. So anyone or anything that hurts her, I will deal with personally.” My stalled thoughts began to turn. I remembered. This was the day my parents first brought me home. I had been abused for sixteen years. So when my biological parents recognized me and brought me home, I was full of hope, thinking I would finally get family, love, everything I had dreamed of. But I didn’t expect that there was already a fake heiress at home, enjoying everything in my place. So, when Ethan pushed me down, sixteen years of accumulated grievance and unwillingness exploded instantly. Covered in snot and tears, I demanded my parents kick Chloe out. I thought they didn’t know what I had been through, so I ripped open my past wounds myself, every word dripping with blood. “Chloe’s mother did it on purpose! She switched us intentionally! She told me herself!” “My ribs were broken by her mother three times! My right arm dislocated twelve times! My legs and chest have countless burns…” “When I was seven, her mother sold me to a circus! I lived and ate with animals, barking like a dog on stage, mimicking a dog peeing, jumping through rings of fire with zero dignity…” I screamed and cried, tearing at my clothes regardless of propriety. “Mom, Dad, Ethan, look! Look at my scars! It hurt so much back then…” “Please feel sorry for me… send Chloe away, and don’t let her call you Mom, Dad, and Brother anymore, okay?” I looked up, expectant, thinking they would hug me in heartache, gently wipe away my tears. But Mom and Dad looked awkward, and a flash of disgust crossed Ethan’s eyes. He spoke, mocking: “Even if what you say is true, what does that have to do with Chloe?” “She was just a child back then. She knew nothing. She’s innocent.” “Finding out suddenly that she isn’t related to this family, Chloe must be hurting much more than you.” Tears froze on my face. I looked at him in disbelief, realizing he wasn’t joking at all. I turned to my parents, who had brought me home personally. Mom, who had just shed tears of pity for me, was now hugging Chloe, looking troubled. “Yes! Willow, your brother is right. Chloe is innocent after all. Can’t you be more understanding?” Dad spoke up, making a direct decision: “Enough. Both stay. The Vance family can afford to raise both.” “Get up off the floor and change into some decent clothes. Look at yourself, what a mess.” So, in my past life, on the very first day, I stood against everyone. Three years of constant fighting followed. And for 1,095 days, I never won against Chloe, not even once. That’s why, when I got the cancer diagnosis, my first reaction wasn’t fear or sadness, but relief. I hoped my death would punish my biased parents, make my brother who loathed me regret everything. But alas! I bet my life and still lost miserably. On the day of Chloe’s eighteenth birthday debutante ball, my ashes were quietly buried. No memorial hall, no funeral service, and… no one came to see me off. Mom, Dad, and Ethan. In this life, I don’t want your love anymore. Thinking of this, my thoughts returned. I looked up at my angry brother and said: “Master Vance, I never said I wanted to be your sister.” Ethan froze. Even Mom and Dad, who were comforting Chloe, looked over in surprise. 2 Dad frowned, speaking coldly: “Willow Lee, stop making a scene!” “The Vance family is wealthy. Whatever Chloe has, you’ll have too. We won’t mistreat our biological daughter.” Mom looked at my thin frame, a flicker of heartache finally appearing in her eyes. She let go of Chloe, squatted down to help me up, and persuaded: “Willow, stop saying angry words. Besides, you’re not an adult and you have no money.” “If you don’t acknowledge us, do you want to go back to the circus and be a monkey, teased like an animal by the audience?” Even though I had died once and lived again, hearing this still brought a sour sting to my eyes. Look at my biological mother. She actually knew I suffered, knew my dignity was trampled on for sixteen years. Yet, even knowing that, she could still use such casual words to stab me in the heart. But in my past life, I was too desperate for love. So desperate I didn’t see the coldness hidden under her concern. But now… After standing firm, I raised my arm and pushed her hand away. Then, I spoke coldly: “I’m serious.” “Since the public doesn’t know about me yet, you can simply announce you’re sponsoring a poor student from the mountains.” Before they could object, I continued quickly: “Besides, I don’t know any etiquette, can’t taste wine, mix perfume, or arrange flowers…” “I’m afraid if people know who I am, I’ll embarrass the Vance family.” Mom and Dad, who were about to speak, exchanged a look and shut their mouths. Seeing this, I lowered my head, a smile of relieved mockery flashing in my eyes. This was how it was in my last life. Chloe deliberately took me to high-society banquets just to watch me make a fool of myself. And whatever guilt or pity my parents had for me vanished with every embarrassment. Terrified, thinking I wasn’t good enough, I spent sleepless nights learning etiquette and knowledge. Later, at a banquet, I handled myself perfectly, even better than Chloe. I thought Mom and Dad would praise me, that Ethan would change his opinion. But Chloe just shed a single tear, and all my efforts turned to ash. Ethan cut up all my gowns. Mom and Dad fired the teachers they hired for me. Chloe got an extravagantly luxurious solo piano concert. I heard my parents spent nearly ten million on it. Ten million! If I remember correctly, my urn cost just over a thousand dollars. Indeed, I wasn’t sensible enough in my past life. Always feeling wronged, unable to stop fighting and grabbing. Ending up bruised and battered, without a shred of their sympathy. Thinking about it now, what was the point? Willow Lee, what was the point? Fighting until the end, you didn’t even get a decent funeral… “Alright,” Dad said, breaking the silence. “We’ll do as Willow says for now. We’ll find you professional tutors.” “Once you’ve learned everything, we’ll hold a banquet to announce your identity as the Vance family daughter.” I nodded and said politely: “Thank you, Mr. Vance.” Arthur Vance frowned, correcting me: “We’re at home. No need to be so distant. You can call me Dad.” I shook my head, smiling distantly: “No, I’ll stick with Mr. Vance. In case I get used to it and slip up in public.” I turned to Grace Vance and changed my address for her too: “Thank you too, Mrs. Vance. I only need you to support me until I’m eighteen. I won’t bother you for too long.” Mom’s face turned a bit pale. She forced a smile and tried to take my hand again: “Willow, you don’t have to be like this. You are my daughter after all, we…” I dodged Grace’s hand. I felt tired and didn’t want to hear their hypocritical words anymore. So I shouldered my tattered bag and walked toward the guest room on the first floor. Behind me came Chloe’s timid voice: “Sister Willow, I’ve already given up my room. You… you go up. I’ll stay in the guest room!” I paused, replying only once: “No need. After all, right now, you are the legitimate daughter of the Vance family.” Walking a few more steps, I heard Ethan’s angry voice: “Chloe, ignore her.” “Won’t even call us Mom and Dad. Who is she acting pitiful for?” “Since she wants to suffer, let her suffer thoroughly. Don’t even give her the guest room.” “Martha, get the key to the storage room. Let Willow Lee sleep there.” I felt everyone’s eyes land on me instantly. I didn’t turn back or argue. I just followed Martha silently to get the key. 3 I didn’t go out for dinner. I just took some food back to the storage room. Passing the dining room, Chloe was laughing with Mom, Dad, and Ethan. Maybe intentionally, their voices grew louder as I walked by. Ethan practically fed Chloe her food. In my past life, I would have been hurt by this exclusion, made a scene, and upset everyone. But now, I just nodded politely at them and turned away. I have a lot to think about. Checkups, exercise, studying, and… the college entrance exam… So many things. I really don’t have the energy to waste on irrelevant people. It’s August now. One month until school starts. First, I got a full checkup. Seeing that my stomach hadn’t developed cancer yet, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I made a strict schedule and asked for a full set of high school textbooks. Every day, before the Vance family woke up, I washed up and went for a run. Then, timing it perfectly, I finished breakfast and went back to my room to study before they came downstairs. Mrs. Vance tried to bring me milk and chat many times, but was blocked by my lukewarm attitude. Gradually, she probably got annoyed too. Her attitude cooled, and Martha started bringing the milk. When my brain was fuzzy from studying, I looked up and saw the milk under the warm lamp. The once warm milk was now cold. The corner of my mouth couldn’t help but curve into an ironic smile. My mother! Say she has no heart, yet she gives me hope in tiny ways. A glass of milk, combing my hair once, making brown sugar ginger tea herself when I had my period… But say she has a heart! She doesn’t know I’m lactose intolerant, doesn’t know I’m allergic to ginger, and always leaves me alone to recover when I break down. In my past life, I was driven crazy by her ambiguous motherly love. Sometimes, I wonder if she didn’t want me back. Did she feel my existence embarrassed her in her social circle? Otherwise, why be so cruel to me? … Time slipped away silently like milk down a drain. When Arthur asked which high school I wanted to attend, I unhesitatingly chose Chloe’s school. Seeing this, Ethan sneered: “Being so quiet for a month, I almost thought you weren’t the competitive type.” “What, can’t hold it in anymore? Going to school to trouble Chloe?” I looked up, unflinching, straight into Ethan’s eyes, and said calmly: “I chose this school because it’s the best in City A, with the best teachers.” “Also, Master Vance, the college entrance exam is very important to me.” “Don’t worry. I won’t ruin my future for the childish reasons you mentioned.” Ethan’s face darkened, but Arthur looked up suddenly, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Sister, don’t say that about Brother. He’s just worried about me.” “Also, Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I know the school well. I’ll take good care of Sister.” The awkward atmosphere was pulled back on track by Chloe. Grace smiled and hugged Chloe: “Truly Mom’s darling, so sensible!” Scenes that stung me repeatedly in my past life now felt like drops of water in the ocean—no ripples at all. My phone dinged. I checked it and smiled. The school approved my dorm application. 4 Getting in the car, Chloe volunteered: “Sister, you and Brother sit in the back! I’ll take the passenger seat.” Before she could take a step, Ethan grabbed her. “What passenger seat? You sit in the back with me. The passenger seat is for outsiders.” Ethan glanced at me while speaking. Unfortunately, I didn’t show the hurt or disappointment he expected. Instead, I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded politely at him. What I desperately wanted in my past life, I now avoided like the plague. The car drove smoothly to school. Unsurprisingly, Chloe and I were in the same class again. During PE, she dragged a group of friends over to introduce me. Of course, it wasn’t out of kindness. In my past life, I suffered a lot because of these friends. I looked up at the familiar faces. In my past life, I desperately wanted to compete with Chloe, so naturally, I wanted to steal her friends too. I poured my heart out, sucking up to each of them like a dog. Later I learned they had a group chat called “Training the Bitch Dog.” They shared photos of my humiliation in the circus and discussed what fun demands to make next. Then, the day before the college entrance exam, they took photos of my degradation and my dignity-less sucking up. They printed them out and used drones to scatter them all over the school. So, despite maintaining the top rank in school for two years… Despite teachers agreeing I was a lock for top universities… I didn’t even take the exam. I ran to question them under everyone’s strange looks. Crying, asking why. Why treat me like this? Was I not good enough to them? Back then, they laughed, grabbing a few flying papers and throwing them in my face, mocking: “Look at your embarrassing state. How do you have the nerve to make friends?” “Just breathing the same air as you makes us sick!” “This is your punishment for making Chloe sad…” My thoughts returned. In front of me, Chloe put on a wronged expression again: “Sister, do you… not like my friends? I didn’t mean anything else, just saw you were lonely…” I stood up, interrupting her. “Play with your friends. Don’t worry about me.” But this time, my cold attitude seemed to pique their interest. All day, they tried to talk to me. Giving me snacks, asking me to lunch, even ignoring Chloe for it. I looked down, smiling mockingly. What a performance! I didn’t want to deal with them in this life, but since they insist on rushing to me… I’ll give them a big gift! Just like in my past life, Chloe didn’t wait for me after school and had the driver take her home. I knew her plan. In my past life, she deliberately got soaked in the rain. When she got home, she just cried without speaking. Later, under questioning from Mom, Dad, and Ethan, she hesitantly told the “truth.” She said she knew I held a grudge. So even though she knew I hired someone to lock her in the bathroom and drench her, she didn’t blame me. Hearing this, my face turned red instantly, and I shouted in anger: “She’s lying! I didn’t…” Unfortunately, what greeted me wasn’t trust, but a hard slap. They didn’t even want to hear my defense before making a final judgment. That night, I was locked out of the house in a torrential downpour. But sadly, this time, no one would be in the mood to care about Chloe’s suffering act. I didn’t take the bus home like last time. After dinner, I studied while waiting for something. Sure enough, near 7 PM, my phone vibrated like crazy. I paused, then answered. On the other end, Mrs. Vance cried incoherently: “Willow, something happened, come quick…”

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