Category: English

My mother loves conducting “obedience tests.” I told her I couldn’t eat ginger, but she put ginger in every dish she cooked. “Who is allergic to ginger? I think you’re just a picky eater!” On my eighteenth birthday, she even bought a thousand pounds of ginger, making a full ginger feast and ginger perfume. She looked at me smugly. “Ginger cures all diseases. I’m doing this for your own good!” “Not eating ginger is just you being spoiled. I specifically minced it this time; let’s see how you pick it out!” My mother smiled happily because her test was successful. But she didn’t know I wasn’t lying to her. I am severely allergic to ginger. Once consumed or contacted in large amounts, the symptoms will gradually develop within two hours, potentially leading to death. … I looked numbly at the full ginger feast in front of me: ginger stir-fried pork, ginger braised duck, shredded ginger with shredded potatoes… Even the dessert was ginger milk curd. Moreover, except for the shredded ginger with shredded potatoes, the ginger in all the other dishes was minced. I couldn’t pick it out at all. I suddenly remembered that before my birthday, my mother had asked me gently what I wanted for my 18th birthday. I thought this was a rare moment of warmth after my parents’ divorce. I repeatedly emphasized, “Just don’t put ginger. I’m allergic to ginger.” I didn’t expect it to be another obedience test. I looked at the meals my mother “carefully” prepared, losing all appetite. The smell of ginger filled my nasal cavity, and a feeling of nausea rushed straight to my throat. I ran to the bathroom and vomited miserably. My mother, however, rushed to the bathroom angrily, grabbed my hair fiercely, and pulled me up. “Who allowed you to vomit? Every bite of food you eat is made by me spending time and money. What right do you have to ruin this body?” She dragged me back to the living room and picked up that bowl of ginger milk curd with a strong ginger smell. “Eat it!” I desperately shook my head to refuse. “I really am allergic. Mom, I’ll listen to you on everything else, just don’t force me to eat ginger…” My mother hesitated for a moment, put me down, and went into the kitchen with the bowl. I thought my mother believed me and just breathed a sigh of relief. But I saw her come out with a small bowl—that small bowl was full of minced ginger, this time without even milk! My mother looked at me, like looking at an ignorant child. “Don’t be a picky eater. How could anyone be allergic to ginger?” “You just ate too little. Eat more and you’ll like ginger.” The spoon moved to my mouth. “Good child, take a bite. Ginger is good for the body.” I clenched my teeth dead tight. “Eat! Chloe, eat!” The spoon poked my gums to mush. I wailed in pain and swallowed a mouthful of minced ginger. Blood oozed from my mouth, but it couldn’t match half the pain in my heart. Since divorcing my dad, my mother fell in love with obedience tests. From what clothes to wear to which university to apply to, she demanded my obedience. As the tests deepened, the look in her eyes toward me grew colder day by day, not like looking at her own child, but like looking at a machine that would obey orders. I was choked by the minced ginger, tears and snot flowing. My mother, however, smiled with satisfaction. “Aren’t you able to eat it? Sure enough, you act as well as your dad.” I tried hard to suppress my emotions, but I still couldn’t hold back and shed two streams of tears. Large drops of tears wet the back of my mother’s hand. She froze for a moment, then flew into a rage, pinching my chin and roaring, “Didn’t I tell you not to cry? This body was born and raised by me. Without my permission, you can’t shed a single tear!” “As heartless as your deadbeat dad, an ungrateful wretch!” My mother looked at the minced ginger I knocked onto the floor during my struggle, her eyes full of heartache. She picked up her phone and took a few pictures with a “click click.” At this time, my phone sounded a message notification. My mother took pictures of the almost untouched dishes on the table and the ginger milk curd in the trash can, and sent them to the family group chat. “Child’s eighteenth birthday. I got up at five to make a table full of dishes for her, and she didn’t eat a single bite. Made the dessert she clamored for, and she threw it all in the trash can. Sigh!” The relatives replying below were all scolding me for being an ungrateful wretch. After sending the message, my mother turned her head and looked at me coldly. “Don’t think your wings are hard just because you’re an adult. If you dare to defy me next time, I’ll send it to your classmate group chat. You can’t escape even when you work. I’ll go to your company to make a scene and see if you can afford to lose this face!” Her voice was high-pitched and sharp; every word suffocated me. What was more suffocating than this was that my face grew hot, and my stomach started to ache sharply. My heart sank, knowing these were the symptoms of an allergy starting. While my mother was clearing the dishes, I hurriedly ran into the room to find allergy medicine. Fortunately, knowing that my mother loves conducting obedience tests, I always keep antihistamines prepared. But before I had time to take it, the bedroom door was pushed straight open. I hurriedly hid the medicine behind my back. My mother walked up to me, reached out, and touched my cheek. “Why is your face so hot?” She noticed my hands hidden behind my back and frowned. “What are you hiding? Take it out!” I explained tremblingly, “It’s allergy medicine. I told you I’m allergic to ginger, Mom.” My mother, however, snatched the allergy medicine from my hand and roared, “Do you eat it just because I allowed you to?” I scratched the new red rash on my arm, realizing the allergic symptoms had worsened again. I was running out of time. I bitterly begged my mother to give me the medicine. She instead took out a bottle of homemade ginger perfume and sprayed it wildly at me. “Ginger water removes cold. You just have a weak constitution and caught a cold.” “Still claiming a ginger allergy. I sprayed so much ginger water, and you didn’t die, did you?” Ignoring my pleas, my mother carried the sprayer and started spraying ginger perfume all over the house. “Stop pretending. I invited your classmates to celebrate your birthday. They’ll be here right away.” “Spray some perfume so you don’t pass the sickness to your classmates!” The whole house smelled of ginger. Dense red rashes broke out on my arms, thighs, and neck. I wanted to go out for some fresh air, but my mother forcefully kept me at home, euphemistically calling it, “You won’t feel uncomfortable after getting used to it.” I knew a new round of obedience testing had begun. I couldn’t stop my mother. I could only dial 911, wrap myself tightly, and hope to hold on until the ambulance arrived. Soon, the classmates arrived. Seeing Sarah and her clique, I subconsciously trembled. Aren’t these the people who bullied me? They tore my books, put dead mice in my desk, and falsely accused me of cheating on an exam out of jealousy. When the former mother found out, she didn’t say a word, took a kitchen knife to the school, and forced them to apologize to me. But now, how could my mother invite them to attend my birthday party? Sarah stepped forward and smilingly took my hand. “Happy birthday, Chloe.” Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Bitch, let’s see how I deal with you.” “Ah!” Before I could react, Sarah fell to the ground. With tears in her eyes, she aggrievedly accused, “Chloe, I came to celebrate your birthday, why did you push me.” “Are you still holding a grudge against me because I reported you for cheating?” I helplessly wanted to explain, but before I could finish, my mother slapped me silly. She looked at my tightly wrapped outfit with disgust. “If you can lie about an allergy, you definitely cheated on the exam.” Then she looked at Sarah affectionately. “Sarah, Auntie wrongly blamed you before. My daughter cheated on the exam. Auntie apologizes to you.” But Mom, wasn’t it you who shielded me behind you and said you would always believe me back then? After going home, I had psychological trauma because of this bullying incident. Wasn’t it you who held me and coaxed me all night? The person who once said she believed me and protected me, how come now, she hurts me together with my enemies? Tears welled up in my sour and astringent eyes, and I tried hard to hold them back. The next second, my mother grabbed my collar, her tone disgusted. “Cry, cry, cry. How do you have the nerve? Apologize to Sarah immediately!” The allergy symptoms became more severe. The red rash spread to my chest. I couldn’t tell for a moment whether the suffocation was brought by the allergy, or if my mother’s words suffocated me more. I endured the pain and tried to explain, “I didn’t cheat. They cut my clothes and locked me in the bathroom…” My mother coldly cut off my words. “Why do they only bully you and not others?” She stripped off my clothes. My arms were exposed to the air, showing an abnormal red color. “Flies don’t bite seamless eggs. Look at how slutty you are; the curves of your body are outlined. Sarah taught my daughter a lesson for me; I should thank her.” I couldn’t believe these were words spoken by a mother. I interrupted her, devastated. “Mom!” My mother looked at my tears unmoved, instead pressing down on my shoulders. “Don’t pretend to be pitiful. Have you forgotten how Mom taught you? Be brave to admit your mistakes!” “You made Sarah suffer so much grievance for nothing. Now, kneel down and kowtow! Apologize to her!” I couldn’t believe what I heard—a mother making her daughter kowtow and apologize to her bully! But I didn’t have time to be angry. The allergy symptoms further deteriorated: Abdominal pain intensified, large patches of red rashes itched, and I started to have trouble breathing. I gasped heavily and begged my mother, “Give me the medicine. I feel so uncomfortable…” My mother still didn’t believe I was allergic to ginger. She shook the medicine, looking at me with a sneer. “Still pretending? I want to see how long you can keep up this act.” “Kneel down and kowtow three times to Sarah, and I’ll give you the medicine.” I knew my mother was conducting an obedience test again. Apologizing to the bully was to make me yield mentally. I lost my strength in despair. Pressed down by my mother’s hands on my shoulders, just as I was about to kneel to the bully in front of the whole class. A gentle voice rang out. “Auntie, what you are doing is wrong.” I looked back; it was the class president, Ethan. When I was bullied and isolated by classmates, only Ethan was willing to talk to me. He was a beam of light in my dark high school life, and also a person I genuinely appreciated and respected. Ethan helped me up, shielded me behind him, and looked straight at my mother. “Auntie, during the exam, I sat right behind Chloe. I can testify that she is innocent and didn’t cheat!” I felt unprecedented warmth. When even my own mother didn’t believe me, there was actually a person willing to stand up and support me. But at this time, my mother screamed and scratched at Ethan. “Why weren’t you looking at your exam paper during the test? What were you doing staring at my daughter?” “Chloe, you cheap tramp, wanting to seduce men right after coming of age?” “I was wondering why you spread your legs so wide when eating. It turns out you want to make money by serving men!” The boys’ eyes lingered on my legs, with playful smiles on their faces, discussing in low voices whether I was a virgin. What was even more excessive was that even Ethan, who kindly helped me, was misinterpreted. I felt ashamed, angry, and blamed myself, stammering to explain, “We are innocent.” But under my mother’s verbal abuse, no one believed me. Ethan, however, smiled and comforted me. “It’s okay, Chloe. The innocent are clear. They are ignorant. I won’t blame you.” I wanted to smile at him gratefully. But I had no extra strength left. It felt like cotton was blocking my throat, my hands and feet were ice cold, and my consciousness began to blur. Not knowing if I could still wait for the ambulance, I grabbed my mother’s pant leg and begged incoherently, “Medicine… medicine…”

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When the entertainment industry’s big celebrity “roundup” scandal broke, Tiffany was posting her ‘conquest’ photos on social media.” The caption read: “Battle-hardened, yet still haven’t experienced the feeling of pupils losing focus.” I found it amusing and even shared the gossip with my boyfriend, Adrian. But Adrian stared intently at his phone, his eyes bloodshot. That night, Adrian excused himself, claiming he had to work late. Hours later, the intern updated her “conquest” photos once more. “First ‘pupil focus loss’ experience: accomplished!” This time, the man in the picture had a distinctive red mole on his collarbone. It was identical to Adrian’s. 1. I’m not the type to just stew in silence, so I called Adrian immediately. But after a few “dings,” the call disconnected. I stubbornly tried several more times, each call hung up instantly. I left Adrian a message on our chat app, demanding he call me back right away to explain. But the next moment, I scrolled past two new posts from Tiffany. “Ugh, so annoying. Can some ‘doting wives’ develop a bit of self-sufficiency? Stop calling and disturbing people’s beauty sleep!!” “Called over a dozen times, truly frightening. I bet the doting wife will be kneeling downstairs at my apartment later, begging her husband to come home, right? (Mouth covered in a giggle)” These posts were clearly aimed directly at me. At this point, I didn’t need Adrian to confirm anything. So, I announced our breakup directly on my own social media. “Called my boyfriend, but accidentally woke up his bedmate. I felt truly bad, so I had no choice but to turn my boyfriend into an ex-boyfriend, just so the bedmate could calm down.” Then I messaged Adrian privately: “Unilateral breakup. You’re on your own.” Even though I’d sent the breakup message, a part of me still hoped Adrian would offer an explanation. We’d been childhood friends for over two decades; I didn’t want our relationship to end so ambiguously. A minute after sending the message, Adrian called me back. “Summer, I’m so sorry. My boss was holding us in a meeting, so I had to keep hanging up on you.” “Do you know your breakup message scared me? Are you misunderstanding something?” I didn’t reply, but listened carefully to the background noise on Adrian’s end. There was the sound of typing, and I could faintly hear a man’s voice hyping up his subordinates. “Summer, listen, if you don’t believe me, my colleagues are all working overtime right now. They’ll think I’m slacking if I even call you back.” Seeing I didn’t respond, Adrian immediately held his phone further away. The typing sounds from the phone grew clearer, occasionally mixed with a few grumbles from overworked employees. Could I really have misunderstood? But Tiffany’s posts were too coincidental. Adrian then softly pleaded with me a few more times, seemingly being urged by his colleagues’ glares. After much thought, I decided to wait for Adrian to return home to clear things up. 2. The next morning, Adrian came home, looking exhausted. He had faint dark circles under his eyes, as if he really had worked all night. But seeing me, he still forced a smile, trying to appear energetic. He held up a bag and said, “Summer, haven’t you been wanting to try the pastries from that new bakery? I specifically waited in line to get them. Try them while they’re still warm.” The bag contained pastries from a popular bakery. They were supposedly so popular you had to queue for an hour to get them. My mood brightened a little. Maybe I was just overthinking things. But after opening the box, I paused again. I remembered the bakery’s promotional images showed eight pastries, but there were only six here. The pastries were also no longer warm, and even had some congealed grease on them. They looked like leftovers. Adrian noticed my confusion and explained, “Maybe the bakery was too busy and gave the wrong quantity. And I rushed home, so some of the filling might have leaked, which is why they look like this.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t get my darling Summer the best-looking pastries. It’s my fault.” Adrian resorted to his usual charming act, trying to win me over. But after the events of last night, the alarm bells in my mind wouldn’t stop ringing. I didn’t avoid Adrian. I directly took out my phone to check Tiffany’s updates. Sure enough, just fifteen minutes earlier, Tiffany had uploaded several breakfast photos on another platform. “The man who abandoned his ‘lovesick old lady’ to sleep with me actually queued for an hour this morning to buy me pastries, supposedly from a bakery the old lady always wanted to try but never got to!” The photos clearly showed pastries and popular new items from that very bakery. On the table were used tissues and two sets of cutlery, and there were exactly six leftover pastries in the box. For a moment, I didn’t know whether to be angry or to just smile bitterly. Adrian was willing to queue for an hour for Tiffany, but he couldn’t even bother to buy a full box of pastries to fool me. I placed my phone in front of Adrian, waiting to see what else he would try. Adrian’s face fell. Then, frantically, he reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled away. “Summer, I know what you’re thinking. You think I have something going on with that crazy woman, but I swear I haven’t had any contact with her!” “I really was working overtime last night, all the way until this morning. If you don’t believe me, you should believe my colleagues, right? You’ve met Daniel and Robert before; they can vouch for me!” As he spoke, Adrian called Daniel. The call was answered quickly. Daniel, having heard the gist of the situation, vouched for Adrian wholeheartedly. “Summer, you have to believe Adrian. All of us colleagues know how much he loves you. How could he cheat?” “We worked overtime all night yesterday. I have video proof. If you don’t believe me, I can send you the video.” Adrian also looked at me sincerely, his eyes watery like a large dog afraid of being abandoned. I received the video from Daniel. Everything in the video looked normal; they were indeed working overtime. But Adrian, who briefly flashed by in the video, wasn’t wearing the same clothes as last night. I asked Daniel, “The shooting date of this video isn’t yesterday, is it? Are you really going to use your integrity to cover for Adrian’s lie?” Daniel still tried to argue, but I shut him down with one sentence: “My mother just prayed for me yesterday. The oracle said that anyone who lies to me will have a year of bad luck.” Daniel, originally from a superstitious background, immediately fell silent. 3. Adrian kept trying to explain. But I was focused on only one thing: packing all of Adrian’s clothes into a suitcase and throwing it out the door. I stood at the doorway, gesturing for Adrian to take his things and get out of the apartment. Seeing me so cold-hearted, Adrian also started to get angry. “Summer, do you have to be like this? I’ve explained everything. I have nothing to do with that crazy woman, but you just won’t listen to me and live in your own delusions!” “How many more times do I have to say it? I’m innocent. I never cheated on you!” Faced with his evasions, I said only one word. “Get out—” 4. Adrian and I officially separated. My friends all assumed I was single again, and some even sent me contacts for younger men, telling me to just relax and have some fun. I wasn’t in a hurry to start a new relationship. Adrian and I had known each other for over two decades and been in love for ten years; the impact of that relationship wouldn’t simply vanish overnight. Moreover, Adrian was still relentlessly bothering me, which made me even less inclined to love someone new. Seeing that I was unresponsive, Adrian packed gifts and went to visit my parents. He adopted a humble posture and tearfully complained to my parents for a long time. He claimed that other women were trying to seduce him, and when he refused, they tried to falsely accuse him. After some back and forth, my father actually believed him and urged me to reconcile with him. “Your father heard from Adrian. That woman tried to seduce him, and that’s why she went to such lengths to destroy your relationship. You need to trust Adrian more. You two are going to get married. How can you always be so suspicious of your husband?” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to my father’s old-fashioned nonsense about marital virtues, so I quickly said a few words and hung up. Then I unblocked Adrian, sent him a middle finger emoji, and dragged him back to the block list. Probably thinking that appealing to my parents had worked, Adrian went to my house for several days in a row to drink with my father. After a while, even my mother believed his nonsense and advised me to give him another chance. I was so annoyed that I decided to talk to Adrian in person. Fearing Adrian might try some candlelight dinner, kneeling-to-propose-reconciliation trick, I didn’t schedule a meeting in advance. Instead, I went directly to Adrian’s apartment after work to wait for him. Who knew I’d stumble upon a big surprise shortly after arriving? Adrian walked ahead, his face cold, while a long-haired woman scurried behind him and hugged him. “Tiffany, I told you, don’t come looking for me anymore!” Adrian seemed very angry. He struggled a few times but couldn’t break free from Tiffany’s embrace. Tiffany buried her face in his back, laughing freely: “Adrian, stop pretending. Who was it who said they’d die happy in my arms? How could you forget what you said after just a few days?” Her slender fingers caressed Adrian’s face, then she blew a breath into his ear. “I’m in my safe period today, and I haven’t had dinner. Want to take me to your place for a bit?” Adrian’s face remained grim, but he stopped struggling. Seeing this, Tiffany walked directly in front of him and kissed him. They kissed for a long time, so long that I managed to record two long videos before they finally stopped. Adrian cursed, “Are you that desperate for a man? Can any man just take you home?” Tiffany chuckled, “No, it has to be a man I fancy.” Adrian snarled, “Are you a public transport vehicle?” Tiffany said, “But aren’t I the ‘public transport vehicle’ you love?” The two of them were entwined for so long, they didn’t even notice me standing nearby. Perfect. I didn’t need to talk to Adrian anymore. The footage I had just recorded on my phone would be enough to shut everyone up. Back home, I sent the uncut video to my social media, with the caption: “Two public transport vehicles illegally entered [Apartment Name]—is it a distortion of human nature or the degradation of morality?” 5. Over the next few hours, I received countless messages and calls, all wanting to extract new gossip from me. A few friends even created a group chat to furiously denounce Adrian, with even his childhood bedwetting being cited as a sign of his scoundrel nature. My mom called too, asking, “Summer, did Adrian really do something like that?” I sighed, “Absolutely. I listened to your advice and wanted to talk to him properly, but when I went to his apartment building, I stumbled upon this.” “Ugh, Mom, I feel so exhausted, I don’t want to love anymore…” I deliberately adopted a depressed tone, which made my mom scold my dad, telling him not to consider Adrian, that scoundrel, as a son-in-law anymore. Over the next few days, the incident’s popularity didn’t wane, even spreading to old alumni groups. Because of this, Adrian, who had been kept in the dark by mutual friends, found out. He called, trying to get me to delete the video and clear his name. “Summer, I don’t know when you got to my apartment, but that day I was really rejecting Tiffany. She forced a kiss on me. I was the one being molested.” Banking on the blurry audio in the video, Adrian assumed I hadn’t heard their explicit flirting, so he tried to fool me like an idiot. “Adrian, stop treating everyone like fools. You’re a young man, 6 feet 1 and 155 pounds, and you’re telling me you were helpless against a frail woman’s molestation?” “You might as well openly admit you enjoyed it. At least then I wouldn’t add another mark against you in my mind.” “Summer!” Adrian’s tone was agitated. “Do you know that because of this video, my company’s management has already spoken to me, and my old classmates are all laughing at me behind my back? This was all just a misunderstanding, why do you have to post it online and ruin me?” “Come on, Summer, quickly delete those videos and help me clarify with our classmates.” “Just say I was drunk that day, disoriented, and Tiffany forced a kiss on me. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. We’ll be good from now on, okay?” I scoffed, “Adrian, did you ‘slip’ into bed with Tiffany too? Stop feigning sincerity. Even a dog’s bark is more believable than you.” At this point, Adrian dropped his act of being a devoted partner and roared furiously: “Summer! We were together for ten years, how could you stab me in the back like this?” Even through the phone, I could feel Adrian’s rage. Yes, everything I did was indeed meant to spite him. He thought I disregarded our past affection, but did he ever consider my feelings when he was fooling around with Tiffany? If I were a lovesick fool, I’d probably be in agony right now. “Adrian, I merely told everyone the truth. Is that considered a betrayal?” “Let me tell you what a betrayal is: a betrayal is you lying to me to go mess around with Tiffany. A betrayal is you disregarding our twenty years of friendship, acting like a public transport vehicle while still expecting me to be your sucker and marry you.” Due to his guilt, Adrian unconsciously raised his voice: “Summer! I just made a mistake any man might make! Why are you so heartless? Do you have to completely ruin me?” “I’m not ruining you; you’re ruining yourself. But don’t overthink it. Things like AIDS or syphilis probably won’t be so unlucky as to infect you. The probability is likely zero.” With that, I intended to hang up, but Adrian delivered one last threat. “Fine, Summer, don’t you dare regret this! You’re just jealous that Tiffany attracts men, aren’t you? Then I’ll be with her, and make you, this ‘man-hater,’ look even more pathetic!” Adrian clearly didn’t realize his threat had no effect on me. Losing his love was like a shark losing a chicken bone. For a while after, Adrian, to spite me, would constantly flaunt his relationship with Tiffany in various ways. He not only posted intimate photos and gift photos of them, but also shared pictures of the ultra-thin condoms they used. To ensure I saw them, Adrian even created a new account and paid for promotional ads. Tiffany also boldly declared on her social media: “It’s 2024, and I can’t believe there are still such old-fashioned ‘old maid’ wives out there. She got dumped by a man, and now she’s taking it out on another beautiful woman (eye roll) (eye roll)” “So what if I’m a ‘thousand-man slayer’? Are you jealous? Just say it. Don’t snoop and take pictures like a cockroach in the shadows. But it’s all good now~ The little cockroach’s darling husband is now my forty-ninth boyfriend. The wife must be crying her eyes out in the restroom~ (smile) (confetti)” This prompted several mutual friends to send me screenshots, asking if they had lost their minds. I replied: “Perhaps their brains are rotting.”

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After breaking up with Ethan Cole, I found out I was three months pregnant. I raised my daughter Lily alone for five years. But working three jobs took its toll, and I died suddenly from a stroke. I floated in mid-air. Suddenly I saw. Ethan Cole, now an award-winning movie star. Knocking on my door. 1 It took a long time for the door to open. “Who are you?” The one who opened the door was my daughter, Lily. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the lock of the main door, taking quite a while. She looked warily at my ex-boyfriend, who was also her biological father, Ethan Cole. Seeing it wasn’t me, Lily was about to close the door immediately. Ethan propped the door open. Frowning, “Where is Chloe Cloud?” Lily thought for a moment, looked up, and smiled brightly. “You’re looking for my mom. My mom isn’t home.” “She’s working.” Ethan’s face turned grim. He asked again: “Where’s your dad?” [It’s you! Her father is you!] I shouted anxiously in mid-air, but he couldn’t hear. Lily thought for a bit. “My dad is making big money in a very faraway place. Mom said he’ll come to pick us up when he makes enough money.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly. Suddenly he laughed self-deprecatingly. Muttering to himself in a low voice. “Heh, I was crazy to think you would wait for me.” With that. He turned to leave. He suddenly paused again. Asked for Lily’s full name. “Lily Cloud.” “Mom says I’m her little lily flower, so I’m called Lily Cloud.” Lily said it with great pride. Ethan’s gaze searched her face. Seeming to look for some proof. But in the end, he said nothing. Stepped into his stretch limo. I watched the car driving away in the distance, screaming. [Don’t go, Ethan Cole. If you leave, what will happen to our Lily?] [She’s only five. How can she survive alone?] I gently coaxed my daughter, who was blinking her eyes watching the car speeding away in the dust. [Lily be good, go chase daddy. Now that mommy is gone, only he can raise you.] But Lily couldn’t hear either. She just said one sentence: “What a strange uncle.” Then closed the door. At this moment, I wished I could slap myself hard. Why didn’t I tell Lily who her father was earlier. Why didn’t I show Lily a photo of her biological father. This is all my fault. It doesn’t matter if I die. But what about my daughter? 2 Lily swung her little legs, waiting for me to come home. The afterglow of the setting sun faded. The sky gradually darkened. Reasonably speaking, I should have been back long ago. Because Lily is afraid of the dark. But I was already dead. My colleague just received the notification of my failed resuscitation at the hospital. And was about to notify my family. But opening my phone, she found the family column in my contacts was empty. However, they knew I had a child. So, the phone at home rang that night. Lily ran towards the phone with her short legs. “Hello.” The childish voice made my colleague’s eyes misty. She didn’t know how to explain to a little girl that her mother was dead. And wouldn’t come back again. “Is it mommy?” Lily’s voice carried excitement. “Are you working overtime again? It’s okay, Lily is fine, not hungry at all. Lily just ate the bread mommy bought.” Saying that, she patted her round belly. “Lily, your mom just passed away.” Lily asked in confusion: “Where did she go? But it’s okay, mommy will definitely take Lily with her.” Once before, due to work arrangements, I went on a business trip to a neighboring state. Worried about leaving Lily alone at home. I took her with me. That was Lily’s first long trip. Sitting on the train, she pointed at the scenery outside the window excitedly. So now Lily still thought I just went on a business trip somewhere. After hearing this, my colleague sighed. Didn’t know what else to say. Could only hang up the phone. Finally, she represented the company to send my body for cremation. I was left with only an urn of ashes. 3 This night passed exceptionally slowly. It was also the first time I didn’t come back. Every once in a while, Lily would run to the door to see if I was there. But soon, scared by the darkness, she would run back. Just like this, running back and forth many times. Unable to resist sleepiness. She finally fell asleep hugging the teddy bear I bought. Dawn broke, roosters crowed. She was startled awake. And rushed to the door again. Seeing I hadn’t returned yet. A trace of disappointment flashed across Lily’s face. But soon, she comforted herself again. “It’s okay, mom is just too busy, she’ll be back soon.” Having eaten nothing all night, Lily’s stomach growled. She could only eat the bread I bought to fill her stomach. And opened the milk I bought. Imitating me, she wanted to heat up some water to warm the milk. “Mom said can’t drink cold, otherwise will get a tummy ache.” Lily said while carrying a pot filled with water. But her hands were so small, how could she carry it. I was extremely anxious, telling her not to do this. But there was nothing I could do. When Lily stood on the stool, just about to put the pot on the stove. Her strength failed, and water spilled all over the floor. Even the pot smashed onto her little foot, and her instep swelled up immediately. My heart ached like a sharp blade was gouging it. But also rejoiced, this wasn’t boiling water. Lily sobbed softly. Soon hugging her foot again, blowing on it. “Mommy isn’t here, Lily blows on it herself, then it won’t hurt.” She wiped her tears. Moved a stool. Sat in front of the living room, staring unblinkingly at the door. “Lily won’t cry. When mommy comes back, she’ll praise Lily for being brave.” Lily is very obedient, very sensible. Sensible enough to make my heart ache. How I wished she would resent me at this moment, blame me for being an incompetent mother. But she just waited very obediently for me to return. 4 Two hours later. A car stopped at my door. My colleague knocked on the door. Lily was extremely excited, thinking it was me. Ran very fast. But tripped unexpectedly. Her calf was scraped by a sharp stone. But she just frowned, got up quickly. After opening the door. Seeing it wasn’t me. Her emotions finally went out of control. Crying loudly. “Mommy, why isn’t mommy back yet.” “Lily’s foot is swollen, leg also hurts from falling, Lily has been very brave.” “But mommy still isn’t back, mommy doesn’t feel sorry for Lily anymore.” “Does mommy not love me anymore.” Lily cried heart-wrenchingly. I listened with my heart shattered on the ground. … My colleague hurriedly comforted her. And found the home first aid kit to disinfect Lily’s leg with alcohol and put on a band-aid. After everything was arranged properly. My colleague brought back my urn and belongings from the company. Lily didn’t understand. But seeing a photo taken with Lily at the amusement park not long ago inside. In the photo, I was holding Lily, and we were both smiling happily. She recognized me. Asking her: “Sister, are these all my mommy’s things? Then where did my mommy go?” My colleague held back tears. Pointed to that urn. “Your mommy is inside here. If you miss her, just hug it and talk to it.” Lily shook her head. “How could my mommy turn into a jar, she’s not the Monkey King, only the Monkey King can transform, you’re lying.” Then she hugged my photo in her arms. “This is my mommy.” And gave it a kiss. Smiling sweetly. My colleague sighed and put my urn on a high place. Then looked around. Asking: “Where’s your dad? Are you alone at home?” Lily lowered her head. “Mommy said daddy went to a very faraway place to make money, I haven’t seen daddy since I was little.” My colleague couldn’t believe it. “Then don’t you have other family members? Grandparents?” Lily shook her head. My colleague could no longer hold back tears, hugging her in her arms. “Poor child.” “You’re so young, how could your mom bear to leave you alone and go.” Lily retorted her. “Mommy wouldn’t leave me, mommy likes Lily the most.” My colleague put a card into Lily’s hand. “This is the compensation money from the company for your mom’s passing. There is two hundred thousand dollars in the card, the password is six eights. Keep it well. Don’t lose it.” Lily nodded seriously. Clutching the card tightly in her hand. Because of poverty, I taught Lily from a young age that money is a good thing and must be taken care of. Now, she also kept it in mind. After considering everything. My colleague called the local welfare agency. It was prepared specifically for these homeless children. I was extremely grateful. Bowing to my colleague in the air. [Thank you.] If she can be sent to the orphanage, at least my Lily can survive.

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After Sylvia’s accident, the grief was a vacuum, and in a spectacular display of misplaced devotion—or maybe just sheer, spectacular madness—I turned to the only thing left: her ex-boyfriend, Nathan Ronald. “Sylvia, I need to tell you something. Please, try not to be mad…” “Nathan and I are a thing now!” Standing by her headstone, a shy blush warming my cheeks, I confessed. “I said so many awful things about him before, but I was wrong. Once we were together, I finally saw how truly good he is.” “I can’t stay long, though. Nathan doesn’t like me to be out for too long.” “Oh! Before I go, tonight, you absolutely have to send me the next Powerball numbers in a dream. That way, my sweet Nathan can save up the down payment for a house and finally marry me!” “Promise you’ll come through! I miss you so much down here.” My best friend, Sylvia Bell, was nothing if not dependable. 1. That very night, she broke into my dream, driving a massive semi-truck that pinned me down and proceeded to roll over me—again and again. “I didn’t see you, my bad,” she muttered. “Thought it was a speed bump.” “You are so clingy, Lucy Moore. Try sticking to my tires one more time, I dare you.” “Why are you using your face to collide with my axle?” “If you ask me, someone else deserved to die. Someone is being shady as hell, and you’re being incredibly obtuse.” She sounded furious, but I didn’t feel any pain. When she finally paused, exhausted from the metaphysical vehicular manslaughter, I wriggled out from underneath, grabbed her hand, and squealed with delight. “Sylvia, Sylvia, it’s really you! God, I missed you!” She let me rush her in a clumsy hug. Her perfect, winged brows were slightly furrowed, but she didn’t pull away, letting me clutch at her like a frantic puppy. “Sylvia, Sylvia, pop quiz! Guess who showed up right after your… crash?” I rushed the answer before she could speak. “It was Nathan, your ex! He came straight to my company building and waited for me. He wouldn’t leave until I saw him—three whole days he stood there!” Sylvia’s face darkened. “He had the audacity to seek you out?” “Why wouldn’t he?” I said, confused. “He did more than that. He proposed! He told me he was one of the people who missed you the most, and one of the only people who truly understood me. He said he was willing to inherit the legacy you left behind in this world, and that legacy is me!” “He promised to be devoted to me for life, to take care of me in your place, and never, ever stray. Where do you find a man with that kind of old-school loyalty these days? I said yes!” Sylvia’s composure finally snapped. She slapped my hand away, her beautiful eyes wide and blazing, exactly the way mine used to be. “Lucy Moore! Do you know that some things that look dirty actually require a certain status? If a man is chased by thousands and stays faithful, that’s character. If a nobody is ignored by everyone and stays faithful, that’s just incompetence!” “If the field is empty, does the goalkeeper still get credit for a shutout?” “He’s nearly forty and not married. Does that tell you he’s got no ambition, or something else is structurally unsound?” 2 She rattled off a complex, winding argument. I blinked at her. “But I thought it was incredibly romantic. It felt… fated.” “Besides, in ancient times, didn’t women in prominent families share husbands? It’s practically a time-honored tradition—” “I’m talking to a wall,” Sylvia hissed, placing her hands on her hips. “Did it ever occur to you how a poor guy with average looks, no money, no power, and no college degree climbed his way up to be a hotel general manager?” She pointed to herself, then jabbed a finger at my forehead. “It was because of what?!” I thought for a long moment, then whispered, “Because of love?” “I spit on that!” “It was because of scheming! He is obviously manipulating us, manipulating our friendship, Lucy!” “But why would he only manipulate us?” I wasn’t buying it. I leaned in, serious. “Out of all the people in the world, why did he pick me from the crowd?” “It means I am the most suitable partner for him! We are a match made in heaven, Sylvia. Why can’t you just be happy for me?” “Unless…” I narrowed my eyes. “Unless you’re still in love with him!” “Your words still love him, your tone still loves him, and the only reason you’re stopping us is because you still love him!” My eyes welled up. I felt like I had uncovered a heartbreaking truth. “Oh, Sylvia, if only you were still here, the three of us could have made it work. That would have been better than anything…” “I could throttle you right now!” Sylvia roared, jumping up to furiously pinch the soft flesh on my side. “You idiot! You moron! You’d be sold into slavery and still thank the auctioneer! Nathan is not a good guy! My accident was because he—” Her eyes were burning red with fury. But the words caught in her throat, as if a spectral hand had clamped down on her windpipe. Her pretty face flushed scarlet, and she couldn’t complete the sentence. I was instantly scared. I reached out to soothe her. “I know, I know. You were going to say your accident happened when you were rushing out to meet him after he suddenly broke up with you, right?” “But you can’t blame him for that. That semi blew a red light, and the driver tried to swerve but couldn’t avoid it…” “Forget it. Dream time is short. Do you have anything you want me to tell your parents? Hurry up and tell me.” 3 The alarm clock blared, shattering the dream. Fearing I would forget, I grabbed a notepad and a pen to write down everything Sylvia had said. Halfway through, I slapped my forehead. “That deadbeat didn’t give me the Powerball numbers!” As I scribbled furiously, a stream of floating text began refreshing rapidly above my head, a constant, ugly intrusion on my reality. This was the Scrolling Commentary. [LOL the Second Female Lead finally bites it. Serves her right for looking down on the hero and trying to force him to be a live-in husband. She deserves to die!] [Exactly. So what if her family owns a hotel? Does that give her the right to look down on a man? Forcing a man to move in is like rubbing our male dignity in the dirt!] [The car crash was a soft death, honestly. At least he let her keep a whole corpse.] [Heh heh, how else is the New Female Lead going to move up? Speaking of which, the New Female Lead’s body is fire. Big tits, tiny waist, plump ass. Perfect for a launchpad.] [Ah, another day of wishing I could possess the hero!] [But her nails are so long and bedazzled. She looks like a high-maintenance gold-digger.] [Who cares? Once the hero gets power, he’ll tell her to cut them, and she will. It’s just one sentence!] My hand froze. I put the pen down, pulled on a robe, and checked my phone. A string of missed calls, all from Nathan, all around midnight. He stopped calling after that, but two hours later, at 2 AM, he sent a text: “Baby, I love you the most, boo hoo hoo.” Then at 4 AM: “Sweetheart, you know I love you, right? Muah muah muah!” What was that about? I frowned in confusion. The Feed scrolled past at lightning speed: [Idiot. Should’ve kept your sound on. The hero was drugged by a rival at a dinner party last night. He was burning up. He wanted you to save him, but you didn’t come through!] [This New Female Lead is totally dropping the ball. Our hero, in his semi-conscious state, stumbled right into the suite of Victor Kane, the City Titan! The Titan liked the taste, apparently. Nailed him seven times in one night.] [Eh, it was a blessing in disguise. Now the Titan can’t forget him. He’ll find him again later and use his connections to boost the hero’s career.] [You have to pay the cost to succeed. Who understands the tragedy of us working-class men!] [Say no more, brothers. It’s all in the wine!] 4 I texted Nathan, but he didn’t reply. He finally picked up around noon. His voice was rough, weak, and thick with congestion. “I’m fine, baby, I just drank too much last night… No, no need to pick me up. I’m already out of the hotel—I mean, out of the house. On my way to work.” “By the way, baby, tonight is a major gala. Damon Shaw, the City Scion, is hosting it himself. Come with me, you might even be able to drum up some new investors for your family’s business.” I happily agreed. Nathan might have been from a small town, but he had an uncanny social antennae for elite events, a sharp sense of which rooms held opportunity. His decisions were usually sound, which was why Sylvia’s father had trusted him with the hotel business. Except he got one thing wrong. It wasn’t him bringing me to the party; it was me bringing him. The Feed flashed: [Here we go! This is the party! The New Female Lead gets drugged, meant to be sent to some fat cat CEO, but she accidentally ends up in the Scion’s room! The Scion has a good time and, in return, throws a huge chunk of investment money at her family’s company!] [HAHAHA, the New Female Lead, meanwhile, still thinks she slept with the hero, and stays loyal, giving him everything he wants. Before she dies, she writes him into her will, leaving him all her shares, massively expanding his empire!] [I love the leverage. Let all those snobs look down on the hero—he used her family to lift himself up anyway!] [But seriously, brothers, she’s so hot, is it a waste to pass her around?] [My brother, you can’t be so short-sighted. When the hero is rich, he can have any woman! A man must endure what others cannot and tolerate what others will not! He has to sacrifice even himself to succeed, let alone a woman! The New Female Lead is the best stepping stone for the hero to enter the A-list circle!] Before the gala, Nathan repeatedly instructed me not to reveal our relationship. When I asked why, he put on a thoughtful expression. “Baby, people will think you’re too consumed by love and your professional ability is lacking. We don’t want that.” Sounded reasonable. I nodded. Night fell. The party was held at the Shaw family estate—a place of opulence, shimmering with chandeliers and clinking glasses. I wore a black-and-gold velvet sheath dress and stiletto sparkle heels, elegant but body-hugging. I drew plenty of attention the moment I walked in. A flicker of resentment crossed Nathan’s eyes. But it was instantly replaced by a gentlemanly smile. He confidently took my arm, waiting at my side for me to introduce him. Seeing his practiced composure, the look of a confident social climber, I couldn’t help but think… It must have been the same before. Nathan was always this gentle and harmless, a deadly vine silently climbing onto warm, living flesh. The only difference was that the woman standing beside him wasn’t me. It was Sylvia. 5 “Ms. Moore, and who is this gentleman?” Everyone in the inner circle knew I never brought dates to these events. The sight of a grown man at my side naturally sparked curiosity. I offered a polite nod and explained, “This is Nathan Ronald, my… personal assistant.” The guests, all social veterans, read the ambiguity in my tone and offered a noncommittal hello. The warm greetings Nathan expected died in the air. He cleared his throat and smoothly retracted the hand he’d offered, replacing it with a gentle, attentive touch as he draped a shawl over my shoulders. He whispered that he was going to fetch me a drink, and then gracefully walked away. The Feed was less composed. They were absolutely livid, shouting obscenities: [New Female Lead, I advise you to be kind! Don’t push your luck!] [The most important thing for a man is his face! If you don’t respect him now, he’ll make your life a living hell later!] [The husband is the lord of the wife! How dare she speak to her heavenly protector like that! She’s going to start a revolt!] [Hmph. I’m exactly like this. I can joke around most of the time, but if you disrespect me, I will show you true darkness! I wanted to be a saint to everyone, but some people force me to unleash the demon inside. I ask you: can you control a demon once it is set loose?!] [Women always get wild once they see the outside world. She needs to be taught a lesson. Slap her twice, first!] [Don’t worry, everyone. The hero has already slipped the drug. He was going to take it easy on her since it was her first time, but now, he’s putting the whole thing in!] [To destroy her, one must first make her insane. Be arrogant while you can, New Female Lead. You’ll be begging for mercy soon enough!] While Nathan was gone, I slipped out onto the balcony. The deep winter night was cold and severe. The sky was a heavy, lightless canvas, hiding the moon. A moment later, the cold air beside me shifted, and I caught the scent of warm gardenia. “And who are you, sister? I haven’t seen you around.” The voice was laced with easy mockery. I rolled my eyes. “Damon Shaw, what is your deal this time?”

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The New Year’s Eve Dinner That Exposed My Husband’s Double Life It was my second year running my upscale private catering service, Crescent Catering, when a wealthy client dropped a massive retainer for a New Year’s Eve dinner. I walked her through all the standard package menus, but she kept shaking her head. Then, her eyes landed on the list of humble, comfort dishes I’d planned for my own family. “The cream of mushroom soup has to have truffle added. Then, when you drizzle white vinegar on it, it must turn that black-purple color my husband loves.” I was stunned. I couldn’t believe anyone else in the world shared such a niche, peculiar culinary fetish—the exact one my husband, Silas Montgomery, insisted on. I asked her if she had any dietary restrictions. She blushed, fumbled for her phone, and handed it directly to me. “My husband oversees everything I eat now that I’m pregnant. You’ll have to ask him.” The next second, a familiar male voice came through the receiver: “My wife doesn’t eat green onions or ginger. Not a single piece.” 1 My hand froze mid-air, suddenly rigid. The voice was unmistakably Silas’s. My professional training forced me to maintain a facade of calm, but my voice still trembled uncontrollably. “Sir… could I just confirm your name for the order?” The man on the other end didn’t seem to hear me. He just repeatedly emphasized: “All ingredients must be flown in from the source to ensure absolute freshness. It’s imperative that my wife is satisfied.” The line went dead, snapped off with ruthless efficiency. Chelsea Wells pulled the phone back, staring at me with a smirk. The smugness in her voice was undisguised. “That’s him. He’s like that. Hardly spares a single word for other women, but he dotes on me and the baby in my belly.” “His name is Silas! Silas Montgomery!” She bit down hard on the syllables of his name. Each one felt like a needle, plunging into my eardrum. My hand, clutching the menu, shook violently. The tip of my pen scraped a messy, inky streak across the paper. I couldn’t write another word. Noticing my obvious distress, Chelsea’s lips curved into a knowing smile. She calmly folded her arms, studying me with the pity of a victor looking down on the vanquished. “Poor thing, the woman he has at home. Seven or eight years of marriage, and she couldn’t hatch an egg. Now she’s just fit to be swept out, left to serve food to other people.” I closed my eyes. The dam of all those old, suppressed wounds instantly broke. Twenty-five years ago, my father found a half-dead, starving boy—Silas—on the street, gave him a hot meal, and gave him a home. Later, we fell in love and got married. We started a modest food truck in the Culinary District, and our food was the hottest thing on the street until a jealous rival smashed up our pop-up and kidnapped me. By the time Silas scraped together the ransom and arrived, I was barely alive. I survived, but the doctors said my uterus was severely damaged; it would be nearly impossible to conceive. As I lay in the hospital, my life hanging in the balance and the bills piling up, Silas worked three jobs to pay off the debt. He constantly found ways to cheer me up. He swore he’d wait for me to recover, that we would have a beautiful life together, and that having children didn’t matter. I believed him. I stood by him as we went from having nothing to building his empire. But he broke his promise. Two years ago, I would have slapped Chelsea, torn apart her veneer of fake concern and bravado. But now, I was the sole proprietor of Crescent Catering. This business was the one thing I’d fought to keep, and I couldn’t let personal vendettas destroy it. “Ms. Wells, please be assured. Our food quality and chef expertise are beyond reproach.” Chelsea smiled, a meaningful, ambiguous twist of her lips. “It better be. Oh, and my husband is extremely protective of me and the baby. When you come to make the New Year’s Eve dinner, you should probably bring a few cooks who are currently pregnant or have recently had a baby. We don’t want any bad juju.” “Otherwise, if he gets angry, your little catering brand might not make it.” That comment was a bullseye on my deepest pain point. Staring at her thinly veiled provocation, I suddenly understood: this wasn’t an order for a New Year’s Eve dinner. It was a calculated ambush—a Roman feast designed to humiliate me. I met her eyes and spoke with deliberate authority: “All of our employees are medically cleared before deployment. If you still have these concerns, I suggest you find another caterer.” The moment I turned and walked out, I heard a mocking snicker behind me. I leaned against the cold wall of the elevator lobby, taking a long time to steady myself before dialing Silas’s number with a trembling hand. He answered instantly, his voice its usual gentle tone. “Babe, what is it?” I felt a sudden sense of disorientation. I spoke tentatively. “I just took an order. The client’s taste is… remarkably similar to yours.” He paused for half a second, then gave a light chuckle. “Just a coincidence. Oh, listen, about my partner’s orphaned child? I’m close to finalizing the adoption. That kid will finally be ours.” Before the words were out, the elevator door dinged and slowly opened. Silas stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a suit. But the normally cool and composed CEO, Silas Montgomery, was looking at me now with pure, unfiltered panic. 2 He recovered quickly, though. He smiled and ran a hand through my hair. “You promised me you’d rest at home. What are you doing here?” He turned to his assistant, Matt, who was standing behind him. “I’ll go check on my partner’s widow alone. You take my wife home, Matt.” I didn’t move. I reached out and took Silas’s arm. “The ‘partner’s widow’ you’re visiting is Chelsea Wells, isn’t she?” His body stiffened instantly. His arm tensed underneath my grip, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze. Just then, his phone rang. Silas visibly relaxed, pulled his arm away without a trace of hesitation, and quickly walked off to answer it, flashing Matt a look that clearly meant: Get her out of here. As the elevator doors closed, Chelsea’s sickeningly sweet voice wafted into my ears. “Honey, why are you still not here? I’m going to be late for my prenatal appointment!” Downstairs, Matt politely held the car door open. “Ma’am, it’s almost time for your medication. We need to get you back.” Medication. Always the medication. Ever since the damage to my uterus, taking medicine had become the dominant feature of my life. Taking it to have a child. Taking it so he wouldn’t worry. Seven years. One medicine bottle after another. Yet, my body grew weaker. I used to never get motion sickness, but now, even riding in a car was an ordeal. But I never got pregnant. And Silas allowed another woman to carry his child. I swallowed the rising nausea and said coolly, “Take me to the hospital.” In the OB-GYN’s office, I managed to find the medical report Silas had deliberately hidden. It stated, clearly: [Secondary Infertility (Permanent)] The word Permanent shattered my last sliver of hope. For years, he had held this report, forcing me to drink useless concoctions while whispering reassurances: “We’ll get pregnant eventually.” I used to foolishly comfort myself, thinking he just wanted our child so badly, that he didn’t want to disappoint me. Now I knew. This was a calculated, carefully orchestrated deception from the start, only meant to stabilize me—his ‘useless’ wife. I handed the doctor all the prescriptions I had taken over the years, asking her to run a thorough analysis. As I turned to leave the examination room, I saw Silas and Chelsea at the end of the hallway. A group of nurses enthusiastically crowded Chelsea. “Mrs. Montgomery, your husband is so devoted! He’s at every prenatal appointment.” Chelsea leaned into Silas, stroking her belly shyly. “He is. He can’t wait for the baby to be just like him.” Silas looked down at her, and the raw tenderness in his eyes was something I had never received in seven years of marriage. There was no orphaned child. All he ever wanted was a woman who could give him a baby—a child that was entirely his. When we had nothing, he called me his world. But once he made his fortune, his world no longer had room for a barren wife. As I brushed past him, Silas’s gaze remained fixed on Chelsea’s stomach. He didn’t spare me a glance. I didn’t cry. I didn’t question him. I just drove home in silence. But the moment I sat down, a message popped up from Chelsea: [You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Be smart. Get out now!] Attached was a DNA test result. The father was, indisputably, Silas Montgomery. Despite my foreknowledge, something in my heart was still savagely pierced. I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore; they streamed down my face. I don’t know how much time passed before Silas called. “Babe, I’m coming home soon. Did you take your medicine?” I raised my hand and slammed the bowl of herbal medicine the housekeeper had brought me to the floor. “Silas Montgomery, are you still going to act? I went to the hospital!” The door burst open. Silas rushed in. He grabbed my hand and anxiously examined it. “Are you hurt?” I violently shook him off and gave a cold laugh. “I heard everything Chelsea told the nurses.” He immediately dropped to his knees in front of me, uncaring that shards of porcelain might stab him. He pleaded: “June, let me explain. She is just an incubator—a tool. My wife will only ever be you! Once the baby is born, I’ll announce that you are the mother. Don’t cause trouble, okay?” “Just… for the next few months, don’t show your face in public. At least pretend you’re resting and carrying the child so everyone believes the baby is yours. Can you do that for me?” I scoffed internally. I didn’t know whether to be touched by his meticulous planning or disgusted by his selfish infidelity. Crescent Catering was finally gaining traction, and the business was fully expanding. It was peak season, and he wanted me to abandon it all for his illegitimate child. I looked at him, my heart tearing in two. “So, you want me to hide, pretend to be happily pregnant, and then watch while another woman’s child is given my name?” “Silas, have you forgotten? The Crescent Room is my family’s legacy. Crescent Catering is the dream I fought tooth and nail for. And you want me to give all that up for your bastard?” He fell silent, letting out only a heavy sigh. He had promised, years ago, that he would help me revive the family legacy and make me the happiest woman alive. But in seven years, he hadn’t just forgotten his vows; he had become the man who would destroy me. Our eyes met for a long, heavy moment. Then, I spoke, deliberately and clearly. “Silas Montgomery, we are getting a divorce.” 3 Silas immediately let go of my hand and tugged at his tie, his eyes clouding with irritation and impatience. “June Caldwell, I just wanted a child. Is that really grounds for divorce? I remember the kindness when you took me in, but your emotions can’t handle this level of irrationality!” I grabbed the nearest throw pillow and hurled it at him. “Kindness? Silas, you repaid my ‘kindness’ with seven years of lies, another woman’s child, and a deliberate attempt to ruin the business I poured my heart into? Your gratitude is a burden I can no longer bear!” The irritation vanished from his face. He took a step toward me, trying to touch me, but I swiftly dodged him. His shoulders slumped slightly, and his tone softened inch by inch. “June, I messed up. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I shouldn’t have put you through this.” “Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to the cemetery. We’ll talk it out in front of your parents. After this, I’ll agree to anything but the divorce. Just don’t do this, please?” Listening to his belated plea, my heart felt like it was being ground repeatedly by a dull knife. Seven years of deep affection, only to end up here. I didn’t answer right away. After a torturous internal debate, I slowly nodded. At the same time, a sudden, cold dread washed over me. Chelsea wouldn’t back down easily. I quietly opened my work chat and sent a message: All field service personnel must log work in real-time and save all evidence for every job. The next day was New Year’s Eve. As the car sped toward the cemetery, Silas’s phone blew up. “Honey, where are you? My stomach hurts so bad!” Without a moment’s thought, Silas swerved the car. He didn’t even realize I was still in the passenger seat until he blew through a red light. “Babe, something’s happened with Chelsea. I have to rush over to check on the baby. I’ll have Matt drive you to the cemetery.” “No need.” I calmly pushed the door open and stepped out. “The baby is more important.” He gave me a look of gratitude. The car screeched away before I could even find my balance. I watched the taillights disappear quickly, my heart feeling like a hollowed-out shell. He once told me that no matter what happened, he would always protect me first. Turns out, those promises had long since expired. I stood in the cold wind for a moment, letting the reality sink in, before calling a ride-share service straight to Westwood Memorial Park. As I got out of the car, Matt rushed up, breathless. “Ma’am, please don’t be angry. Mr. Montgomery truly has no feelings for Chelsea. She’s just a ‘good luck charm’ woman he paid a psychic to find—a total utility player.” “He cares about you most. He specifically sent me here to accompany you.” I didn’t want to engage. His sincerity or utilization didn’t matter. Infidelity is infidelity; labeling it ‘sacred’ doesn’t change anything. Scanning my surroundings, I noticed a few suspicious figures lurking in the nearby woods, furtively watching us. A sense of foreboding rose in my chest. I quickly pushed Matt away. “Go! Separate! You call the police!” I turned and ran into a nearby corner store to hide, dialing Silas’s number with a trembling hand. “Corner store by the South Gate of the cemetery. Silas, hurry! I need help!” The man’s voice on the receiver was full of intense annoyance. “June Caldwell, will you stop being so dramatic? We just agreed last night! Have you forgotten already? What did you put in Chelsea’s New Year’s Eve dinner? Her stomach’s been cramping since the first bite! I have to rush her to the hospital. You need to dial back the jealousy!” When I was kidnapped years ago, he searched for me like a madman, crying, “I can’t live without you. I’ll never let anything happen to you again.” Now, a simple complaint of a stomachache from another woman was enough for him to immediately label me a spiteful perpetrator. The call was disconnected. Just then, a flurry of messages popped up in my work group chat, each one more desperate than the last: [Mr. Montgomery filed a complaint against Crescent Catering, and the Market Regulatory Bureau is coming to shut down the shop!] [Ms. Caldwell, all the pre-booked jobs are canceled. They’re demanding huge compensation. We can’t afford the breach-of-contract penalties!] I was about to reply when everything went black. A thick canvas bag was thrown over my head, and my phone was knocked from my grasp. A foot slammed into my spine. I hit the floor, and someone instantly pinned my hands and feet. “Alright, boys! Let’s get this done and ruin her completely. Let’s see if Mr. Montgomery still wants her after this.” “Don’t forget to take plenty of photos. Let everyone see her shame.” My clothes were ripped. Evil, lecherous laughter echoed around me. I struggled, I screamed, but all my resistance was futile. 4 Just then, the corner store door was banged open. A team of police officers rushed in. The assailants’ laughter died immediately. The bag was ripped off my head. Matt dropped to his knees in front of me, tears streaming down his face. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! I should have been faster!” I looked at him and shook my head. What was his fault? He got the police here in time, and he protected me when it mattered most. The one at fault was the man who vowed to protect me for life, yet, in my moment of greatest danger, only had eyes for someone else. I struggled to stand, taking the jacket Matt handed me and tightly wrapping it around myself. [You ruined Chelsea’s New Year’s Eve dinner. I’m taking her home for a quick meal. I’ll be back soon. Don’t be mad.] Every word in Silas’s message felt like a thorn, piercing my heart. At the same time, Chelsea posted to social media. The photo showed her and Silas cheek-to-cheek, in the dining room of our marital home. She was sitting in my chair. But I had no time to grieve. My work chat was already ablaze. [Mr. Montgomery is doing the ‘righteous’ thing and throwing his own wife under the bus! The whole internet is trashing us, saying pregnant women should avoid Crescent Catering. They even dug up the fact that Ms. Caldwell can’t have kids and are spreading rumors that all our staff have health issues!] [All the jobs are canceled. We can’t afford the penalties. Is our catering business really over?] Two years of blood, sweat, and tears vanished in a single instant. The Crescent Catering business, the revival of my family’s legacy—the thing I nearly died protecting—was so easily ruined by Silas and Chelsea. I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my palms. I felt clearer than ever. Since he delivered such an unforgettable humiliation, I would give Silas and Chelsea a New Year’s gift they would never forget. I opened the work chat and sent out a notification for an emergency New Year’s Eve work session. The anxiety in the group instantly dissipated. My team rushed to reply, guaranteeing their presence. At that moment, Silas was likely sitting with Chelsea, having their New Year’s Eve dinner in the warmth of my home. Both their phones went off simultaneously: [The entire staff of Crescent Catering will publicly apologize to Mr. Montgomery and Ms. Wells for sixteen consecutive days, starting New Year’s Eve and ending on the 15th day of the New Year.] They opened the apology video. Silas’s face drained of color after the very first sentence.

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The blood test for my brother’s school enrollment came back, showing an impossible blood type. My father threatened divorce. The DNA test results: my brother was actually my mother’s maternal half-brother. The boy I’d called my little brother for seven years was, in reality, my uncle. It turned out, when the only son became a family joke, the unwanted daughter could finally become a winning lottery ticket. 1 The year my mother, Denise, was pregnant with my brother, the desperation to have a boy was palpable. They’d even bought a special statue, a sort of desperate, last-ditch attempt at invoking fate. When the ultrasound confirmed it was a boy, my father, Robert Heather, paraded up and down the hallway, handing out cigars and announcing to every neighbor, “A son for the Heather line!” My room was emptied out and painted a sickly baby blue. The corner of the living room, partitioned by a worn, floral sheet, became my new bedroom. “Get rid of this junk,” Mom said, pointing at my faded stuffed animals and my third-grade spelling bee trophy. “It’s taking up space. This is for my son.” My brother, Brock, was born and instantly nicknamed “Champ.” I, on the other hand, was most often referred to as “the girl,” or simply, nothing at all. At the dinner table, Mom would scrape the brussels sprouts Brock didn’t like into my bowl. “Eat this. It’s the same nutrition,” she’d snap. If Brock threw a tantrum and knocked over a glass of iced tea, I was the one yelled at for not having cleared the table fast enough. When Brock was in kindergarten, they bought him the latest $250 PlayStation. They didn’t even blink. When I was in middle school and needed a $30 SAT prep book, I had to endure two weeks of Mom’s complaints. “Throwing money away! Why bother with all those books? You’re a girl, you’ll be fine after a couple years of high school. Mrs. Miller at the diner is hiring; you can learn a trade and start bringing home a paycheck.” Dad, Robert, rarely looked up from the television. “Your mother’s right, Vera. Three years of high school tuition is better spent getting a job. Find a nice, steady man in a few years, and our job will be done.” I stared at the only full family photo in the house—Brock’s first birthday portrait. I was standing on the very edge, my smile looking more like a grimace. In the future they had drawn up for me, I was a line sloping straight down: dropout, low-wage job, marriage, my brief value used solely to prop up the world built around my brother. 2 The uneasy peace lasted until the summer I finished eighth grade. Brock was getting ready to start elementary school. His entry medical report came out that Thursday morning. At lunchtime, Dad slammed the piece of paper onto the glass tabletop. Brock, startled, stopped demanding his grilled cheese sandwich. His spoon clattered into his bowl, splashing milk. “Our son is AB positive,” Dad said, his eyes drilling into Mom. “I’m A positive. You’re O positive. Tell me, Denise, how did we make an AB-type child?” “Stop yelling! You’re scaring our Champ!” Mom was already defensive. Having Brock was the only thing that had given her any power in the house, and she used it without reservation. “Was it the maintenance guy? The one who fixed the sink last month? You’ve been wearing makeup just to take out the trash since he moved in.” “That’s trash! The clinic must have made a mistake!” Mom snatched the paper, but her fingers were white, gripping the edge of the tablecloth. “I took him myself this morning,” Dad yanked Brock away, who was already starting to cry. He passed the kitchen where I was washing dishes. “You come too.” After the blood draw, Mom took Brock and soothed him into his room. As she shut the door, I heard his quiet, terrified sobs. Spoiled since birth, he had never seen our parents behave like this. I went to the laundry room to hang up the clothes. In the living room, Mom was cracking sunflower seeds, spitting the shells onto the rug. “When that stupid report comes back, I’m suing that clinic for emotional damages, fifty thousand dollars minimum,” she ranted. “And you, Robert Heather, don’t think this is going to be easy on you, either!” Dad didn’t reply. He chain-smoked, the ashtray quickly piling up with butts. 3 The follow-up DNA Paternity Test results weren’t due until Monday afternoon. The entire weekend was suffocating. Dad smoked constantly, filling the air with acrid smoke, and Mom had lost her patience with Brock’s constant whining. Saturday afternoon, my best friend from school texted, asking if I wanted to meet up at the library to look for used AP study guides. It was the only thing I had looked forward to all summer. I was about to leave when Brock, a little wrecking ball, charged over and hugged my legs. “Sissy, play with me! I want you to be the villain!” “I have to go out for a little while, Brock. How about I play with you all night when I get back?” “No! Now!” His mouth instantly crumpled, ready for a full-volume wail. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her expression sour. “Where are you running off to now? Your brother needs you. Stay home and watch him. Don’t you have any sense of responsibility as an older sister?” “Mom, you said I could go to the library with Emily, just for a little bit…” “I said nothing of the sort! Don’t you see what’s happening in this house? Stay here and look after him.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “You are to stay here and watch your brother.” The last flicker of hope I had for the afternoon extinguished. As Mom turned back to the kitchen, I sighed and knelt, trying to reason with the boy. He picked up a throw pillow and tossed it in my face. “Mess-maker!” “Brock Heather, stop that right now! I’m serious.” “You wouldn’t dare!” he shrieked back. He ran to the living room corner that was my “bedroom,” the floral sheet curtain flapping behind him. My heart seized. I chased after him. “What are you doing?” Too late. He darted behind the curtain and instantly spotted the thick Manila envelope tucked under my pillow. It was my acceptance letter to Northwood High—a scholarship offer, the proof of my countless late nights studying amidst the living room chaos and his crying fits. “What’s this?” He picked it up curiously. “Put that down! Don’t touch it!” My voice cracked. Seeing my panic, he was instantly energized. He held the envelope high, a nasty, triumphant grin on his face. “Daddy, Mommy, Sissy is hiding something!” “Give it back!” I lunged for it. “No! No! You’re a loser’s trash!” I watched in horror as he grabbed the envelope with both small hands and ripped it in half. RIIIP— The sound tore through my chest. The paper with my name and my future was split down the middle. He wasn’t done. He ripped it a few more times, the pieces fluttering down like cold confetti around his feet. I stared at the fragments on the rug, my mind ringing. Months of quiet endurance, injustice, and the faint, precious hope for a different future were shredded to dust in that moment. “Ah!” I made a sound I didn’t recognize, a low, guttural snarl. I flew at him, pushing him to the floor, pinning him down, my fists raining down. “I hate you! I hate you!” Brock was stunned silent for a second, then he erupted into an ear-splitting scream. “WAAH… Mommy! Sissy hit me! Mommy, help!” Mom rushed in and saw me on top of him. Her eyes went instantly red. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me off him. The force sent me staggering back, my head hitting the corner of my small footlocker. The back of my skull throbbed. “How dare you lay a hand on your brother! It’s just a stupid paper! So what if it’s ripped? Did you actually think you were going to some fancy high school? Never! You toxic little girl, how could you be so mean? He’s your brother!” Brock hid behind her, weeping theatrically, yet giving me a smug little smirk. Mom hugged him, checking him for bruises, cooing, “There, there, Champ. Mommy’s here, Mommy will get her! This bad luck charm, daring to hurt my son!” My arms hurt. My scalp felt raw. But none of it mattered compared to the hollow ache in my chest. Dad came in from the porch, took one look, and just barked impatiently, “What’s all this noise? Haven’t we had enough drama?” His gaze skimmed the shredded paper on the floor, didn’t pause, and he turned around to go back to staring out the window, lighting another cigarette. The smoke, curling around his back, blurred my last shred of hope for this family. I ignored Mom’s curses and Brock’s triumphant glare. I knelt, picking up the fragments, one by one, carefully taping my future back together with clear scotch tape. 4 Dad went to retrieve the DNA test results alone on Monday. After I finished tidying the house until it was spotless, I approached Mom. “Mom, school starts soon. Can you advance me the tuition and boarding fees for the first semester of high school?” “I told you, if you insist on going to that money pit of a high school, you’ll have to earn the money yourself.” I was about to offer to pay her back double next semester when the front door opened. Dad walked in, clutching a manila envelope. “Let me see that.” Mom swaggered toward him, brimming with anticipation. Dad avoided her, tossing the envelope onto the coffee table. He walked over to me and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good girl, Vera. Go wait in your brother’s room.” “…Okay.” A breath of relief escaped me. I was their daughter. But a strange sense of loss settled over me, too. I slowly closed the door, leaving a crack, a sliver of an opening. I had a bad feeling. Dad ignored Mom, walking straight up to Brock and squatting down. “You won’t call me Dad anymore.” WAAAH! Brock dissolved into tears. Mom picked up the report, her eyes scanning the text, then freezing on a specific line. “This is impossible…” Her lips trembled. “It’s in black and white,” Dad stood up. “He’s your mother’s son. Your maternal half-brother.” Brock’s crying intensified. For the first time, Mom screamed at him. “Stop it! Are you putting on a show for a funeral!” The room fell into a terrifying silence. Mom stared blankly at Dad, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to digest the seven words. Then, as if struck, she fixed her gaze on Brock, who was huddled on the sofa. Her eyes held no trace of the usual doting affection. She walked towards him, slowly. She knelt in front of him, her fingers roughly kneading his cheek, as if checking a strange, unfamiliar object. “Maternal… half-brother?” she repeated. “Then… where is my son? The one I carried for nine months?!” “Mommy, you’re hurting me.” Brock was terrified and tried to pull away, but she gripped his shoulder tightly. Her nails dug into his soft skin, drawing a bead of blood. “Where is my son?!” Her voice rose to a shriek, sharp and piercing. “I gave birth to a boy! Where did he go?!” “Shut up!” Dad threw the ashtray across the room. “Go over to your sister’s house and ask your brother’s real mother!” It was Aunt Marilyn’s turn to host Grandma Patty for the month. When she opened the door, Aunt Marilyn, or ‘Mel,’ was confused by the sight of us. Before she could speak, Mom strode past her, yanking Grandma Patty away from the vegetables she was prepping in the kitchen. Grandma Patty stumbled, sending lettuce leaves scattering across the floor. “Ouch, what’s going on? Are you trying to kill your old mother?” Mom dragged Brock to the ground in front of Grandma. Brock, his throat raw from crying, hugged Mom’s pant leg. “Mommy, don’t leave me…” “There, there, don’t cry, come to your Aunt Mel.” Aunt Mel had had several painful miscarriages and was always extra protective of Brock. “If your mom doesn’t want you, your Aunt Mel does.” Aunt Mel had always quietly hoped that if she couldn’t have a child, Brock would grow up to take care of her. “Sister, whether you want him or not, you’re stuck with him.” Mom sneered, clutching the crumpled report as she walked toward Grandma Patty. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aunt Mel looked baffled. “He’s Mom’s son.” Aunt Mel almost laughed, holding Brock close and wiping his tears. “Champ, look at your mother. She’s just angry at Grandma. We’re not listening to her. I’ll take you out for pizza.” Mom gritted her teeth, trying to suppress her fury. “Mom, why aren’t you saying anything?” The color slowly drained from Grandma Patty’s face. 5 “Mom, say something!” Aunt Mel’s eyes darted between Grandma and Mom, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. “When I gave birth to him in the country, you were the only one there,” Mom’s voice started to tremble. “You said the baby had fluid in his lungs and needed to be rushed to a special clinic… you said he made it, but he was weak, and you told me to focus on resting, that you’d take care of him…” Grandma Patty avoided her gaze, her lips opening and closing, unable to offer an explanation. Aunt Mel held the struggling Brock close, taking out her phone. “Vera, quickly, call your Uncle Curtis. Don’t let them start fighting.” “No, no, no! It was you who insisted on staying at your sister’s farm for a few months! Dad was dead then—who did you sleep with to make this bastard?!” Mom grabbed Grandma Patty’s shoulders and shook her hard. “Where did you put my son?!” “I, I…” Grandma Patty squeezed her eyes shut, tears running down her wrinkled cheeks. “You what?!” Dad’s voice was a sharp roar. “If anything happened to my son, I swear I’ll kill you!” Grandma Patty’s knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor, curling into herself. “I… I left him… at the farm.” “Left him at the farm?” Mom repeated softly. “You gave my son away? You switched him with your… your bad seed?” Grandma Patty stayed kneeling, covering her face, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Mom lunged at her. “Where is my son?! Tell me!” Aunt Mel, seeing the situation escalating, forced a strained smile, trying to calm things down. “Sister, calm down. Mom, this must be a mistake. Mom is an old woman; this is absurd.” Aunt Mel’s voice was losing conviction fast. Then, she saw her husband, Curtis, finally arrive, her last hope.

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Married to Caleb Vance, a billionaire from a top-tier New York family, for six months. Yet, he still refuses to be intimate with me. Gradually, my heart turned cold, and I thought about divorce. But by chance, I overheard a conversation between him and his bros. “Some people, clearly lusting to death, yet desperately restrain themselves because they are afraid of scaring their wives. Not naming names.” “Women can’t resist temptation. Caleb, if you keep this up, don’t cry when your wife runs away with someone else.” The subject of the mockery just sipped his whiskey calmly. “I gave her everything others can give. I just want her to come home when she’s had enough fun.” Hearing this, his bros all laughed. “Don’t act so magnanimous. If you’re so tough, don’t ask sad questions on your alt account every day.” My mind raced, and I quickly opened Caleb’s account. I saw the pinned post. [Finally married my crush, but I have a sex addiction. How can I give her a good experience without scaring her?]

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On the day of my father’s sixtieth birthday party, my wife’s lover, Lucas Croft, somehow infiltrated the celebration. He projected intimate photos of himself and Serena onto the grand screen, then grabbed a microphone and challenged me: “Arthur Reed, please divorce Serena.” “She told me being with me in bed was far more satisfying than being with you. She loves me.” My father, enraged, suffered a heart attack and was rushed to the ICU. The last veil of dignity in my marriage to Serena was ripped away. I became a complete and utter joke. The next day, I arranged to meet Lucas and treated him to a live show. In the room right next to ours, Serena was subjected to an ordeal with multiple men, her gaze vacant and broken. I smiled, asking Lucas, “She seems to be enjoying this even more than she did with you. Do you still want her?” … “Arthur Reed, you’re nothing but a monster!” Lucas slammed a fist into my face, roaring for me to release Serena. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward from behind me. One restrained Lucas. The other handed me a tissue. I wiped the blood from my face, then raised my fist and struck him across the bridge of his nose. A sickening crack echoed, and his nose broke. Lucas screamed, “Arthur Reed, how dare you do this to me? Do you know who my father is…” Before he could finish, a voice crackled over my walkie-talkie. “Mr. Reed, she’s fading.” I looked up. On the screen, Serena had already passed out. I glanced at the time, tutting softly. “That quick? Give her some stimulants.” A needle pierced Serena’s skin, and she slowly opened her eyes. Soon, the familiar sounds of heavy breathing resumed from the screen. Lucas’s face went white. “Arthur Reed, you’re insane! This is a crime!” “Mr. Croft, you exaggerate,” I smiled at him faintly, but my eyes were utterly cold. “I’m merely helping my wife satisfy her needs.” Lucas shuddered, as if finally realizing the extent of my ruthlessness. He seemed to crumble. “You can’t do this to her! Arthur Reed, no matter what, Serena is your wife! If you keep this up, she’ll be destroyed!” On the screen, the men’s heavy breathing continued, but Serena began to whimper in agony, begging them to stop. Seeing I was unmoved, Lucas’s tone softened. “Arthur Reed, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have interfered in your marriage, and I certainly shouldn’t have provoked you at your father’s birthday, ruining your reputation. But this has nothing to do with Serena. If you want revenge, take it out on me. Please, let her go.” I looked at Lucas, shaking my head. “Mr. Croft, your feelings for my wife truly run deep.” “But don’t worry, I’m a fair man. Between her and me, she’s the one who made the mistake. You won’t be implicated.” Two hours later, the voice on the walkie-talkie told me even the stimulants weren’t working anymore. I called a halt, then took Lucas to the adjacent room. The moment the door opened, Lucas burst inside. He embraced Serena, sobbing uncontrollably. “Serena, are you alright? What have they done to you?” Serena was too weak to even respond, her eyes blank, lying on the floor like a broken doll. I walked over. “Mr. Croft, I’m still here. Such intimacy with my wife isn’t appropriate, is it?” Serena finally lifted her head, her eyes burning with murderous hatred towards me. “Arthur Reed, you’re a complete madman!” “Let’s get a divorce.” Serena had taken many lovers. Quite a few of them had made a scene in front of me. Every time those men came to provoke me, I made sure she received the full measure of my retaliation. But this was the first time she had asked me for a divorce. “No.” I looked Lucas over again. “Serena, don’t forget, I gave you a chance five years ago. Back then, you refused to divorce, and you even gave my father a heart attack. Now you want to escape, to be with someone else? Ha, keep dreaming!” It seemed Lucas was indeed different to Serena. Before, no matter how I hurt Serena, she always endured it in silence. Only this time, she reported me to the police. Lucas presented a video, accusing me of kidnapping and coercing others to assault Serena, demanding the police arrest me. He gesticulated wildly. “Officers, he’s a lawyer! He knows the law and breaks it! A man like this practicing law is terrifying! You must arrest him immediately!” The officer asked if what he said was true. I shook my head. “No, these are all false accusations. He and my wife were having an affair; he wants to take my place. I refused to divorce, so this is all a setup by the two of them to frame me.” The officer’s gaze immediately shifted to Lucas, his face etched with disdain. Lucas grew frantic. “There’s a video! How can you say it’s false? I even have a witness!” With a phone call, he summoned one of the men who had been in the room that day. The man admitted to having been coerced by me into doing unspeakable things to Serena, and even produced the injection drugs. Lucas immediately beamed with triumph. “With both human testimony and physical evidence, Arthur Reed, what more do you have to say?” I said nothing, merely continuing to present my own evidence: Chat logs of Serena arranging to meet with several men; surveillance footage of Serena opening the door for them; and the drugs were purchased using Serena’s account, and that room was one Serena frequently booked. The evidence proved that Serena had arranged everything herself, gotten carried away, and then tried to pin the blame on me. Lucas’s face turned scarlet with rage. “These are fabricated! Serena would never do such things!” “Why not?” I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning heartache. “Mr. Croft, you still don’t know my wife at all. She loves to play games. Ah, you’re still young. It’s best you leave this toxic woman soon.” My “sincere advice” landed in Lucas’s ears as pure mockery. He frantically accused me of fabricating evidence, demanding the police investigate thoroughly. However, after extensive investigation, nothing could prove I had done it. In the end, even the witness changed his testimony, producing bank transfer records, claiming Lucas had paid him a sum to commit perjury. Lucas’s face went chalk-white with fury. “You’re lying! You were the most… involved with her that day!” He moved to strike me. I blocked him. “Mr. Croft, he was kind enough to testify for you, and you’re hitting him? How unreasonable can you be?” Seeing the apparent familiarity between me and the witness, Lucas suddenly understood. “You two are in this together!” No matter how much he ranted, the incident ultimately ended with the police trying to de-escalate the situation. The officers told Lucas to return when he had concrete evidence, then escorted us out of the station. As soon as I had seen the witness off, Lucas stomped over and slapped me. “Arthur Reed, Serena stopped loving you ages ago. You’re still clinging to her. You truly have no shame!” I’ve always been one for an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. So, before he could finish speaking, I grabbed his hair and slapped him twice, hard. “Am I shameless, or is it you, the homewrecker who plastered intimate photos of yourself at another man’s father’s birthday party?” At that, Lucas actually gave a chilling smile. “Serena was right. It turns out your father is what you care about most.” My heart tightened. “Lucas, I’ve always believed that my wife’s infidelity was a failure on my part to manage her, which is why I punish Serena, not you. But if you dare touch my father, I will make sure both of you are utterly destroyed.” “Oh? How exactly do you plan to destroy us?” Lucas smiled, a triumphant smirk. “Arthur Reed, aren’t you curious why Serena isn’t here today?” My heart rate immediately surged. Just as I was about to grab his hair again to demand answers, my phone rang. After answering, I froze. My father had been discharged from the hospital. When I arrived, he was lying in the hospital corridor. Nurse Eva told me that someone claiming to be my wife had come to arrange a transfer to another hospital. But after the paperwork was completed, she abandoned my father right there in the hospital. Eva had tried to call me several times, but couldn’t get through. She tried to arrange for him to be readmitted, but the hospital required a direct family member to do so. Without a doubt, Serena was behind this. At that moment, my father’s face in the corridor was already turning purple. There was no time to question Serena. I rushed to find a doctor to admit him. But in the office, I was stunned. The doctor told me my father’s condition was too severe; they couldn’t admit him. I exploded. “What are you talking about? Last night you told me my father’s condition had improved and he could undergo surgery! Now you can’t admit him?” The doctor recoiled, frightened. “Mr. Reed, please calm down. A patient’s condition can fluctuate. He could be fine last night and severely worsen today.” I asked him, “If he’s so critical, why did you allow someone to discharge him?” The doctor spread his hands. “Your wife insisted on the discharge. We respected your family’s wishes.” After a few exchanges, even an idiot would understand someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. Otherwise, how would the doctors dare to do this? I left the office and immediately called Serena, demanding to know why she had done it. “To teach you a lesson, of course,” Serena said bluntly. “Arthur Reed, I think Jasmine was right. I was too kind to you, making you think I was easy to push around. After what you did to me, why wouldn’t I retaliate?” I lost my patience. “If you want revenge, take it out on me! Why involve my father, Serena? Don’t you remember who took you in when you were begging on the streets?” I simply couldn’t believe Serena would harm my father. She was ten years old when her family threw her out, nearly freezing to death on the streets in the dead of winter. It was my father who found her, took her in, and gave her food. At the mention of the past, Serena wavered. She began, “Alright, then…” “Serena, is that it? Are you just going to let this go?” Just then, Lucas’s voice cut in. “Don’t forget the real reason we’re doing this.” Serena fell silent for a few seconds, then spoke again, her voice chillingly cold. “Arthur Reed, if you want your father admitted, then come and sign the divorce papers with me.” “Impossible!” I roared. “Serena, don’t forget, five years ago, you angered my father so much he ended up in the hospital. You promised him then that there would only be widowhood, never divorce. If I divorce you now, even if my father recovers, he might just die from the shock!” “What does that have to do with me?” Serena’s words were like a bucket of ice water over my head. “In short, no divorce, and your father dies.” The call disconnected. When I tried to call back, her phone was off. There was no time to argue with Serena. I began arranging for my father to be transferred. It wasn’t until several hospitals across the city successively refused admission that I received the information about Lucas that my assistant, Mark, sent me. Only then did I understand what Serena meant by “dies.” Lucas’s father was the chairman of the country’s largest pharmaceutical company, with partnerships with every hospital in the city. Undoubtedly, Lucas had contacted all the hospitals. Years of legal experience told me that figures like us were mere eggs against a rock when facing such capital. Even if their actions were illegal and I found proof, there would always be someone willing to take the fall for them. In my despair, Nurse Eva’s voice rang out again. “Mr. Reed, hurry! Your father isn’t breathing!” I rushed to my father’s side. Confirming he had no heartbeat, I immediately climbed onto the bed and began CPR. Nurse Eva ran to find a doctor. Perhaps the doctors still had some conscience. Perhaps they simply thought a patient dying right at the hospital entrance would be too much trouble. Soon, two doctors arrived and managed to revive my father. Afterward, one of the doctors pulled me aside, implying that even though he had been revived this time, my father likely wouldn’t survive another eight hours without proper hospitalization. I understood what he meant. After entrusting my father to Nurse Eva, I went to find Serena. She was with Lucas, sitting on his lap and feeding him grapes. I slammed the divorce papers onto the table in front of her. “Serena, I agree.” Serena glanced at me, then nervously stood up. “Arthur, are you crying?” I cursed at her. “Don’t pretend! Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” Serena frowned, said nothing more, picked up the pen, and signed. After signing, she told me, “Arthur, we can still be friends. Once your father… once Mr. Reed Sr. is discharged, I can even pretend with you.” “Forget it. I wouldn’t be friends with scum like you.” I bent down, signed my name, and then flung the divorce papers at her. “Now we’re divorced! Go arrange my father’s admission immediately!” Serena turned to Lucas. “Lucas, call the hospital.” Unexpectedly, Lucas smirked. “Who said that if you two divorced, I’d let his father be admitted?” I was dumbfounded. “You clearly promised me just now…” “She promised you, not me,” Lucas stood up, patting my face. “Arthur Reed, aren’t you supposed to be so arrogant and brilliant? How can you not even handle such a small matter?” I stared fixedly at Lucas. “So, what will it take for you to spare my father?” Lucas chuckled. “Simple. Strip naked right now, go out to the street, and beg on your knees, loudly proclaiming that you’re a shameless animal, that you seduced a married woman. Do that a hundred times, and I’ll have your father admitted.” The air instantly froze. Serena seemed about to speak, but Lucas’s stare silenced her. I took a deep breath, then spoke. “Alright.”

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1 I woke up to find my daughter transformed into a golden retriever. I screamed in terror, but my mother-in-law cursed me for raising a dog as a child. My husband asked when I would finally agree to have a real baby. But I distinctly remembered my daughter being five years old, and just last night, she was begging me for a story. I rushed to the closet; instead of my daughter’s princess dresses, there were dog clothes and leashes. I opened my phone gallery; instead of countless photos of my daughter, there were only pictures of that golden retriever. I ran to the daycare; the teachers also said I had never had a child. “Where is my daughter!” I screamed in despair. My husband said I had become obsessed with the dog, imagining a daughter to avoid childbirth. My mother-in-law sighed, advising me to see a psychiatrist. But I didn’t believe them. Ten months of pregnancy, five years of companionship—how could it all be a hallucination! I tried to call the police, but they stopped me, locking me in a mental hospital. I struggled desperately, rushing out onto the road, only to be hit by an out-of-control truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my daughter turned into a golden retriever. This time, I wouldn’t scream. … A warm, wet tongue licked my cheek, leaving a faint, unpleasant odor. I snapped my eyes open. What greeted me was not the soft, pink face of my daughter, Joanna. Instead, it was the yellow-furred face of a dog. In my past life, this dog had replaced my daughter. The bedroom door creaked open. My husband, David, walked in. “The sun’s already high; aren’t you getting up?” My mother-in-law followed close behind. “Aren’t you going to get up and make breakfast? Five years in this house, and you haven’t produced a single grandchild. How can you sleep so soundly?” I dug my nails fiercely into my palm. The pain was sharp and real. It wasn’t a dream. I had been reborn. I was back on the morning Joanna disappeared. I pointed at the dog. “David, where is my daughter, Joanna?” David frowned. “Joanna’s right there on the bed, isn’t she?” I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “I’m talking about a human, my daughter, five-year-old Joanna! Not this animal!” David dodged the pillow. “Elara, we’ve been married for five years, and you’ve always refused to have children.” “You insisted on keeping this dog and even named it Joanna.” “You were the one who said you’d raise her like your own daughter. What act are you putting on now?” My mother-in-law chimed in. “Now you’re disgusted by it being an animal? Then hurry up and give me a grandson with a real heir.” Their synchronized performance. In my past life, I had been driven insane by this very narrative. They ganged up, turning black into white. “I don’t believe you. Last night, Joanna was sleeping in my arms, asking me to read ‘Snow White’.” I leaped out of bed, barefoot, and rushed to the closet. Just like in my previous life. The area that used to be filled with pink fluffy dresses was now entirely taken up by pet clothes. My mind went blank for a moment. Could those five years of mother-daughter affection really have been just a hallucination, born from my prolonged loneliness? I opened my phone. The lock screen was a dog. My photo gallery was full of dog pictures. David snatched the phone from my hand. “Had enough yet?” “Elara, are you under too much stress? Is something wrong with your mind?” His hand rested on my shoulder. I violently shook him off. “Don’t touch me. You’re all lying to me.” I ran out of the bedroom, heading straight for the front door. “Where are you going?” David roared from behind me. “I’m going to the daycare! The teachers will know! Joanna went to school yesterday!” I ignored my mother-in-law’s curses, grabbed the car keys, and bolted out. This time, I would tear through this web of lies. The car sped down the road. My mind was filled with Joanna’s smiling face. “Mommy, I want that balloon.” “Mommy, I love you.” So vibrant, so real. How could it be an illusion? How could it be a dog? I arrived at the Sunflower Daycare. It was peak time for parents dropping off children. I rushed to the classroom at the end of the second floor. Mrs. Davis was standing at the door, greeting the children. When she saw me, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes, but it vanished instantly. I rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. “Mrs. Davis, where is my daughter, Joanna Zhao?” Mrs. Davis frowned, trying to pull her hand free. “What daughter? You signed up for dog daycare here.” 2 My eyes widened as I stared at her. “You’re lying! You personally handed Joanna back to me yesterday afternoon.” “You even said Joanna wet the bed during her nap and asked me to wash her pants when I got home.” The surrounding parents and children gathered around. Mrs. Davis rolled her eyes at me, turned, and pulled a registration book from a cabinet. “See, isn’t this your signature?” I squinted. It was indeed my handwriting. But the header of the form read [Pet Short-Term Boarding Registration Form]. The “Boarded Object” column said: [Golden Retriever, Name: Joanna]. I snatched the registration book and frantically tore at it. “Fake, it’s all fake! You’re all in on this together! My daughter is human, not a dog!” Mrs. Davis shrieked. “Call security!” Two burly security guards rushed up, grabbing my arms, one on each side. I struggled desperately. “Let me go! Give me back my daughter!” “Mrs. Davis, you witch, you clearly know Joanna!” Just then, David rushed over, panting. He bowed apologetically to everyone. “I-I’m so sorry, everyone. My wife hasn’t been well lately.” “She wants a child so badly she’s having hallucinations. She’s caused trouble for the teacher.” The surrounding parents gave knowing looks. “Oh, so she’s crazy.” “How pathetic, she’s gone mad from wanting a child.” “Treating a dog like a child, she’s definitely seriously ill.” David walked up to me, took off his jacket, and draped it over my head, blocking my vision. “We’re going home. If you make a scene again, I’ll make sure you never leave the house for the rest of your life.” I stopped struggling. Not because I was afraid. But because I knew that making a scene now was useless. Everyone thought I was crazy. The evidence had all been tampered with. I had to stay calm. I had to survive. Only by surviving could I find Joanna. Back home, David tossed the car keys onto the coffee table. “Mom, get her medicine.” “I think she’s seriously ill today; we need to increase the dosage.” My mother-in-law immediately retrieved a white pill bottle from under the TV cabinet, pouring out two red capsules. Those were the “vitamins” they usually forced me to take. In my past life, I hadn’t known until just before I died that they were high-concentration illicit drugs from illegal channels, containing hallucinogens and sedatives. Long-term use would turn a normal person insane. My mother-in-law brought over a cup of water. “Hurry up, take your medicine, and you won’t imagine things anymore.” I clamped my mouth shut, turning my head away. “I won’t take it.” David walked over and roughly pinched my chin, forcing my mouth open. “Take it. Don’t make me use force.” My mother-in-law quickly shoved the pills into my mouth, then poured in a large gulp of water. I choked violently, water streaming down my neck and soaking my clothes. The pills lodged in my throat, a bitter taste spreading through my mouth. I pretended to swallow. The moment they loosened their grip, I violently shoved my mother-in-law away and rushed into the bathroom. Locked the door. And stuck my finger down my throat. “Ugh!” The water and pills I had swallowed, mixed with stomach acid, came back up. Outside the door, David started kicking. “Elara, open this door! What are you doing in there?” I flushed the toilet. Washed my face, and opened the door. “I took the medicine. I want to sleep.” David stared at me for a while, seemingly judging whether I was telling the truth. Finally, he snorted. “You’d better have taken it.” “Go to sleep. Your mind will clear up after you wake.” I returned to the bedroom, lifted my nightgown, and revealed my flat lower abdomen. There was a ten-centimeter-long, faint pink scar there. It was left five years ago when I had a C-section to give birth to Joanna. In my past life, when I questioned this scar, David had said, “What C-section? You got that climbing a mountain, you fell off a rock.” Climbing a mountain? Who gets a scar exactly where the uterus is? Who gets such a perfectly straight horizontal incision from a fall? They were treating my intelligence with utter contempt. The tragic thing was, in my past life, I had actually believed them. Because during that time, they had fed me so much medicine my memories were a confused mess. This time, I would never let them lead me by the nose again. 3 I stood up and began searching the room. Photos could be edited, clothes could be replaced. But Joanna had lived in this house for five years; it was impossible that not a single trace remained. However, I searched every corner of the room, finding nothing. They had been utterly ruthless. It was a destructive purge. My heart sank deeper and deeper. Just then, my gaze fell on the fabric armchair. Joanna often sat there reading picture books, eating snacks, and sometimes hiding treasures in the crevices. I rushed over, digging my hand deep into the sofa’s cracks, pushing hard. My fingertip brushed against something hard and cold. My heart skipped a beat. I carefully hooked out the object. It was a silver bracelet. The pendant on the front was engraved with “Joanna,” and the back had a QR code. This was a lost-and-found bracelet I had specially custom-made for Joanna’s fifth birthday. It had a chip implanted, and by scanning the QR code, one could see my contact information and Joanna’s photo. I pulled out my phone, opened the scanner. Beep. A page popped up on the screen. [Name: Joanna Zhao] [Gender: Female] [Date of Birth: January 8, 2021] [Mother: Elara Lin Phone: 138xxxx…] Below was a headshot of Joanna. The little girl’s eyes were smiling, a gap where a front tooth used to be. I covered my mouth, silently sobbing. I found her. I finally found her. My daughter was real! My entire family was lying to me. They had hidden my daughter. It was even possible… I dared not think further. Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. I quickly shoved the bracelet into my bra, hiding it against my chest. Then, I lay back on the bed and pulled the covers over my head. The door was pushed open a crack. David’s voice came through. “Asleep?” My mother-in-law’s voice was very low. “She should be. She just took her medicine; she must be drowsy.” “That’s good.” They closed the door and left. I got out of bed, tiptoeing to the door, pressing my ear against it to listen to the commotion outside. First, my mother-in-law’s anxious voice. “David, it’s been days now. Why hasn’t the buyer paid the remaining balance?” My body stiffened. Buyer? Balance? What were they talking about? I held my breath, straining to hear their conversation. David’s voice was filled with greed. “Don’t worry, they said that as long as the goods are inspected and there are no problems, the remaining five hundred thousand will be transferred tomorrow.” “Although that little girl is a good-for-nothing, she’s quite pretty.” “They happen to need a child bride and plan to take her deep into the mountains.” “Once she goes, she’ll never get out in this lifetime.” Child bride? Mountains? They actually sold Joanna! David let out a cold laugh. “With this money, and by selling Elara, that crazy woman’s house, we can pay off my gambling debts.” “Then, we’ll make Elara have a son, and our Zhao family will finally have an heir.” My mother-in-law chuckled a few times. “My son is so clever.” “Oh, and that Mrs. Davis, you need to keep her happy.” “It’s thanks to her cooperation that all the records were changed.” David said triumphantly, “Don’t worry, Davis is my old flame. As long as the money’s good, she’ll do anything.” I couldn’t hear the rest. My mind was filled with a buzzing roar. To pay off gambling debts, to have a son, they sold my daughter. They wanted to drive me insane and seize my property. Even Joanna’s teacher was David’s mistress! I wanted to rush out and rip their hearts open to see if they were black. But I couldn’t. Joanna was still with the buyer. I couldn’t tip them off. I had to endure. I had to wait for the right moment to return this pain to them a thousandfold. 4 In the evening, David went out. My mother-in-law called from outside. “Elara, get up and make dinner! You’ve slept all day; do you really think you’re a young mistress?” Normally, I would jump up and rush to the kitchen, afraid of displeasing her. But not today. If you say I’m crazy, then I’ll show you crazy. I stood up and walked out of the room. My mother-in-law was sitting with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds, the golden retriever lying at her feet. As soon as she saw me, she opened her mouth to curse. I beat her to it, rushing to the dog’s toilet on the balcony. In my mother-in-law’s astonished gaze, I picked up a fresh, foul-smelling clump of dog feces with my bare hand. “What are you doing? That’s disgusting, you psycho!” My mother-in-law screamed, dropping her plate of sunflower seeds and scrambling backward. I rushed to her, grabbing a handful of her hair. As she screamed in terror, her mouth wide open, I smeared the dog feces all over her lips and nose, rubbing it in firmly. “Mom, didn’t you say this was my daughter?” “My daughter’s gold! I specially saved it for you, her loving grandmother, to have a taste.” “Look how rich the color is, how nourishing!” My mother-in-law’s eyes rolled back in her head from the stench, and she began retching uncontrollably. I casually grabbed the fruit knife from the coffee table, placing the tip against her throat. “Since you say I’m crazy, then a crazy person who kills isn’t held accountable, right?” My mother-in-law went limp, her pants instantly soaked. When David returned, this was the scene that greeted him: his mother, face covered in dog feces, slumped in a puddle of urine, while his usually submissive wife held a knife, pointing it at him. “Elara, put the knife down!” I stood up and walked toward him. “David, I just had a dream. I dreamt Joanna was crying.” “She said Daddy was going to sell her for money.” David’s pupils violently constricted. “Nonsense! I told you that’s your imagination. Did you not take enough medicine?” I pointed the knife at him. “Maybe I really am crazy.” “If I’m crazy, then nothing I do is illegal, right?” I advanced on him step by step. David recoiled, intimidated by my presence. He had never seen me like this. The old Elara was gentle and obedient, never daring to raise her voice. But the current me emanated an aura of destruction. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it. A voice, distorted by a voice changer, spoke from the other end. “Ms. Lin, I hear you’re looking for your daughter?” “If you want to see her, prepare one million dollars.” “Don’t call the police, or we’ll send you back a hand.” The call ended. I froze. One million dollars? Kidnapping? No, David clearly said he sold her. How did it turn into a kidnapping and ransom? I looked at David, realizing he, too, was utterly bewildered. Clearly, this call wasn’t part of his plan either. What was going on? Was it a double-cross? No matter what the truth was, this call meant Joanna was still alive. As long as she was alive, there was hope. I took a deep breath. Since the situation was already messy, I’d make it even messier. I looked at David, a smile playing on my lips. “Husband, that call just now said they want a million dollars for ransom.” “Do you think selling your kidney is worth a million dollars?”

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After being trafficked to a private island, I escaped twice to avoid becoming a toy for the elite. The night I was caught the first time, they sent me a video of my fiancé being torn apart by piranhas. When my second escape failed, my brother—the only family I had left—was tied to a boat and torn limb from limb. In utter despair, I accepted the System’s offer. “Earn enough points, and you can resurrect your loved ones.” From that day on, I abandoned all dignity. I let the electric collar dig into my flesh, enduring torture until I blacked out, again and again. Finally, after another forced embryo extraction, I saw I had enough points. Joy surged in my heart. Just as my trembling hand hovered over the “Confirm” button, laughter erupted from around the corner. “That idiot actually believes she’s in a system, saving points to revive her brother and fiancé. She has no idea the island is fake, the deaths are fake, and the system is fake.” “I know, right? The rich really know how to train their dogs. Caleb and Asher staged this whole ‘death game’ just because she slapped Bella years ago and refused to apologize. This is all just to teach her to submit.” “Shh, keep it down. Caleb and Asher are coming to check on their ‘experiment’…” I froze, ice spreading through my veins. My ears rang. The pesticide I drank earlier kicked in. Before I could react, blood gushed from my mouth. As darkness claimed me, the door was kicked open. “Ava!” I struggled to lift my head and met a pair of familiar, panicked eyes. It was my brother, who was supposed to be dead. The person I had mourned for three years, whom I dreamed of seeing just one more time, appeared before me without warning. His eyes were red with urgency, his voice laced with panicked anger: “I told you guys to just scare her! How did it get this bad?!” He leaned down, gently lifting me, softening his voice: “Ava, don’t be scared. It’s okay. Big brother is here.” I stared blankly at his face, the conversation I overheard echoing in my mind. So it was all true. To vent Bella’s anger, my brother and my fiancé went to such lengths. Exhaustion and despair swallowed me whole. I gave a tragic smile, and more blood poured from my mouth in thick streams. The room erupted in chaos. Caleb was frantic, slamming his fist on the table: “Call the doctor! What are you standing there for?!” The men looked at each other nervously. Finally, someone stammered: “Mr. Vance, you forgot.” “Last time Miss Bella had a cold, you transferred your entire medical team to her side.” “You specifically ordered… since Miss Ava likes to feign illness for sympathy, no one is allowed to divert medical resources without your direct order, lest it disturb Miss Bella’s recovery.” Caleb froze, guilt flashing across his face as he looked away from me. After a long silence, he squeezed out two words: “…Useless trash!” While Caleb turned to dial, rough hands pinned me to the bed. “Quick! Keep her awake until the doctor gets here! If she dies, Mr. Vance will kill us all!” Needles stabbed into my flesh, forcing consciousness upon me. Pain exploded. My freshly stitched wounds ripped open, and my body spasmed. Caleb’s hushed, coaxing voice drifted into my ears: “Bella, don’t be mad. Just lend your doctor to your sister Ava for a bit. When she wakes up, I’ll bring her to thank you personally.” “Yes, yes, I’ll make her kneel and thank you. Whatever our Bella wants.” I dug my nails into my palm and laughed bitterly. So now, even my life and death require Bella’s permission. Another needle plunged in. Amidst the torture, I turned my head with difficulty, grabbed the fruit knife on the nightstand, and slashed my wrist without hesitation. When Caleb turned around, blood sprayed. His phone clattered to the floor. His pupils constricted. “Ava!!!” My last memory was Caleb screaming and lunging toward me. In the haze of unconsciousness, I dreamed. In the dream, I was destiny’s darling. My brother cherished me, and my childhood sweetheart, Asher, never left my side. Until the day Bella, my father’s illegitimate daughter, stepped into our home. The war began. For three years, she staged suicide attempts over a dozen times. Wrist cutting, pills, gas… every time, she was “coincidentally” discovered by Caleb or Asher. But Caleb would just sneer at the spilled pills: “Is seeking attention the only thing you know how to do?” Asher would walk right past the sobbing Bella, take my hand, and leave: “Ignore her. I’ll take you to school.” Their disgust was so real I never doubted their love for me. So on the day Asher and I got our marriage license, when Bella climbed onto the roof threatening to jump again… Caleb watched coldly. Asher frowned and moved to hang up. No one took her seriously. Unexpectedly, Bella smiled tragically and jumped. On the video call, Caleb’s face went pale. He ran toward her like a madman. Asher froze, phone in hand. His indifference shattered, replaced by a face white as a sheet. That day, clutching our marriage certificates, I walked out of the courthouse in a daze. Asher’s friends were laughing nearby: “Ash, divorced in three minutes? Bringing the princess here for the experience?” “Didn’t you say you hated Bella? Why did you look like you saw a ghost when she jumped?” “You guys don’t get it. Ash talks tough but is soft inside. He probably hurts for her.” Asher didn’t retort. He frowned: “Shut up.” Then he walked past me, dialing the number he had pinned to the top of his contacts: “I got the divorce. Can you be a good girl and let the doctor treat you now?” The other end said something. He sighed, voice full of helpless indulgence: “Okay, whatever you say… my little princess. I’m coming home to you.” Only when his car sped past me did I realize what had happened. When I rushed back to the Vance estate, Asher was gently draping a coat over Bella. The room was a mess. My gaze landed on our wedding photo, clawed and scratched. I could imagine what they had just done. Nausea rolled in my stomach. Bella peeked out from Asher’s arms, timidly: “Sister Ava, Asher and I aren’t what you think…” Before she finished, a slap echoed through the room. Bella clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. Almost instantly, a massive force struck my face. I was knocked to the floor, ears ringing. “Ava Vance! Apologize to Bella!” My cheek burned. I looked up. Caleb stood over me, voice icy: “Bella’s depression only gets better when she sees Asher. Can’t you be sensible and let her have him?!” “Go! Apologize to Bella now!” Asher looked at me with equal anger: “Ava, no matter what happens between Bella and me, I’ll only marry you in the end. Why do you have to push her to death?” “She did nothing wrong. You’ve gone too far this time. Apologize!” Asher’s face blurred before my eyes. The boy who grew up with me, who fought kidnappers for me, who risked his hands for me… he was gone. I looked around the room. And met Bella’s smirking, triumphant gaze. I jolted awake from the nightmare. Before I was fully conscious, I cried out the name I had relied on for twenty years: “Brother…” No one answered. I woke up in a dark, empty bedroom. Next door, lights blazed. Everyone was surrounding Bella, who was crying and threatening to leave. “Brother, look at Ava. Drinking poison, cutting her wrists… she’s just trying to intimidate me! I don’t understand why she still can’t accept me after all these years!” “Asher, I should stay away from you. You go be with her. I’ll just leave this home!” Caleb stopped her, voice tight with anger: “Bella, you’ve suffered enough. Don’t worry, I’ll teach her a lesson for this!” “I didn’t expect this either. We spent three years trying to teach her to submit, but instead of changing, she’s gotten worse. Now she’s using death to threaten us for attention!” “Seeing her like that today, I almost… I almost fell for it!” I slowly raised my hand to my wrist. The burning in my stomach had faded, and my wrist was bandaged. But the sting under the skin was real. So my desperate struggle for death was, in my brother’s eyes, just a “bitter meat trick” for attention. Asher pulled Bella into his arms, coaxing her: “Bella, Ava is spoiled. Don’t lower yourself to her level.” “Our wedding is tomorrow. Don’t let her ruin your mood.” Caleb chimed in: “Right, focus on the wedding. I’ll handle her! Whether she wants to or not, she will be a bridesmaid! I won’t let people gossip about you!” Wedding? Bridesmaid? Three years ago, I was supposed to be the bride. Now, without my knowledge, I had been demoted to bridesmaid. My heart froze with every word they spoke. I tried to smile, but failed. Before I knew it, my legs had moved off the bed. I tried to stand, but the moment my feet touched the floor, the stitched wound on my abdomen tore open. Agony hit. My legs gave out, and I crashed to the floor. Moonlight illuminated the gruesome scars covering my body. Memories of the past three years flooded back. To earn points, I knelt under strangers, was stripped naked, forced into humiliating poses. To earn points, I was strapped to lab tables, my embryos surgically removed as soon as I conceived, tortured for endless days and nights. The pain of electric shocks, the numbness of shattered dignity… In my darkest moments, I wanted to end it all. But thinking of Caleb and Asher waiting for me in the “other world,” I survived. Turns out, the “points” I risked my life for were just a scam designed for me. I felt pathetic and laughable. I wiped the wetness from my face, grabbed the edge of the table, and tried to pull myself up inch by inch. Crash. I fell again. I pulled the tablecloth down with me. Glass shattered, shards piercing my skin. I didn’t feel it. I just stared at the open window ahead. The noise alerted next door. Caleb’s footsteps approached. He knocked, sounding annoyed: “Ava!” “I haven’t settled the score with you for scaring Bella today.” “Everyone is busy. Can you grow up?” I gasped for air, sliding down the wall. Pain tortured me every second. Three years of grievances erupted. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I screamed at the door: “Busy with what?! Busy preparing for Bella and Asher’s wedding?!” “Or busy forcing me to be a bridesmaid for the mistress who stole my life?!” Silence outside. Then Caleb’s voice rose: “What nonsense are you spouting?! Everyone knows Bella and Asher are a couple. You’re the one trying to interfere…” He stopped, as if remembering something, then changed his tone: “Ava, love isn’t first come, first served.” “Asher loves Bella now. Plus, you know Bella has depression. She only got better because Asher stayed by her side. This marriage is expedient, good for everyone.” “Are you really going to fight Bella over this?” I didn’t answer. I finally dragged myself to the window. Wind hit my face. My heart was dead. “Bang!” The door was kicked open. I heard it, but didn’t look back. The next second, I jumped. As I fell, a strong hand grabbed me. Asher. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Veins popped on his neck, face pale: “Grab my hand, Ava!” His hand, injured for me years ago, shouldn’t have been able to hold weight. It was shaking violently. He pulled me back inside with all his might. As soon as I hit the floor, a slap landed on my face. “Ava Vance! Even if you don’t want to go to the wedding, do you have to do this?!” Asher rarely showed such emotion: “Do you know how high this is?! If I hadn’t been fast, you’d be dead!” Caleb’s legs were weak too. Supported by a maid, he barely stood. He took deep breaths, voice trembling: “Ava… how did you become like this?!” “Anyone would think you suffered terribly these three years! We lied to you, yes, but we fed you and housed you! We even visited you secretly! You never suffered!” “You know Bella is soft-hearted. You insist on suicide on her wedding day just to make her feel guilty, don’t you?” “Can’t I even scold you now? How did I raise such an ungrateful wolf?!” “Let me tell you, you are being a bridesmaid today whether you like it or not!” He yanked me up, pinned me to the bed, and signaled the maids: “Change her!” The bridesmaid dress was brought over. I stared blankly. As the maids’ hands reached for me, memories of countless hands touching me overlapped. “No!!!” I struggled with everything I had, but it was useless. “Rip!” The dark clothes covering me were torn away. My scar-covered body was exposed to everyone. Bruises, burns old and new, the two-inch incision on my abdomen oozing blood… The air froze. Everyone stared. A timid maid screamed. Looking at my scars, Asher’s face went deathly white. Caleb stumbled back two steps, eyes wide with disbelief, and collapsed onto the floor. “W-what is this?!” Caleb’s voice shook so hard it was almost a roar. Supported by others, he couldn’t stand. His gaze swept over the torn clothes, then landed on my mutilated body. His usually composed face was now paper-white. I stood there numbly, watching their shocked, twisted faces. My ears rang, vision blurring. Asher reacted faster than Caleb. Instinctively, he stepped forward, reaching out to touch me. But just before his fingers made contact, Caleb shoved him away. “Get away!” Caleb’s eyes were bloodshot. “Don’t touch her! Asher, you’re marrying Bella. Don’t dirty my sister with your hands!” Asher froze, pinned by those words. He opened his mouth but made no sound, staring blankly at my scars, his face turning gray. In the standoff, the tearing pain in my head surged again. I broke free from the maids, crawled to the wall, and slammed my head against it. Caleb jumped, rushing to hug me from behind. His grip was tight, hurting my ribs. “What are you doing?! Doctor… call the doctor! Hurry!” He picked me up frantically, voice trembling: “Don’t do this Ava, don’t do this, brother is here, don’t be scared…” I shook violently, pushing him with all my might, but he wouldn’t budge. Caleb repeated over and over, comforting me or maybe himself: “Don’t be scared, Ava, brother is here, brother is here.” I was dizzy, vision darkening.

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