Category: English

My CEO girlfriend, Isabella, and I were finally at that age—the marrying kind. But just as we started planning, she suddenly enacted a bizarre new company policy: To be approved for wedding leave, an employee must first demonstrate their commitment with a full month of perfect attendance. No exceptions. From that day on, Isabella—a woman who had a seven-year perfect attendance streak—developed a new catchphrase. “Bob, I’m so sorry. I was just one minute late again this month. Next month. I promise, next month I’ll marry you.” From my 29th birthday to my 32nd, in just three short years, she got into ten “accidental” car crashes that landed her in the hospital, suffered twenty-one bouts of food poisoning, and overslept five times. In short, she never managed to get that perfect attendance. At first, I was understanding, comforting. Then came the doubt, the anger. Finally, I started driving her to work myself, clearing every possible obstacle from our path. Yet, on the last day of one month, she fainted dead away just as she was stepping through the company’s front doors. That’s when a saying echoed in my mind: You can’t wake someone who’s only pretending to be asleep. After getting her to the hospital, I turned to leave. But a sliver of hope held me back. What if she was really sick? What if I was being a monster for leaving her alone? I hesitated, then turned back. And as I neared her hospital room, I heard her talking to a friend. “Isabella, there’s definitely something going on between you and that new intern, Caleb.” The casual words struck me like a bolt of lightning, knocking the air from my lungs. Isabella’s voice was laced with a nostalgic smile. “That kid’s got something. It’s been a long time since I felt that spark. Looking at Bob now is like looking at my dad. It’s just… exhausting.” “So you invented this whole perfect-attendance rule just to stall him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find out and dump you?” “Not a chance. He’s waited for me from 24 to 32. I’m all he has. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping with casual cruelty, “he literally gave me a kidney. He’s not going anywhere. I can say a few sweet things and he’ll be eating out of my hand again.” “True. We’ve all seen how devoted he is to you. The crazy schemes he comes up with just to get you to work on time… it’s almost pathetic.” The sound of their laughter was a physical blow, a sharp, tearing pain in my chest. All my efforts, all my hopes for our future, were nothing but a joke to them. Isabella’s voice, feigning remorse, cut through my daze. “Bob, today was the last day of the month. I really thought I was going to make it. I can’t believe I failed again. I’m the worst. I swear, next month. Next month, I’ll get that perfect attendance.” Hearing those words, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Isabella, for three whole years, I have moved heaven and earth to help you, and you still couldn’t do it. How can you promise you’ll make it next month?” My question stunned her into silence. Her hands clenched into fists. “I’ll set my alarm earlier,” she said, her voice firm. “Three in the morning. I’ll get up at three. I can make it then.” “Bob, you have to believe me. Just one more month. I promise.” “Actually, Ms. Hayes might not be considered late today.” The sudden interruption from the HR representative silenced the room. Isabella’s face went rigid. “Not… late?” Her tone wasn’t joyful. It was pure terror. Her eyes darted nervously to Caleb, the intern, who was watching from the sidelines. “But she wasn’t all the way through the door!” Caleb blurted out. “Can that really count?” The HR rep looked conflicted. “Well, the security footage shows half her body was inside when the clock turned. But because she was falling, the sensor didn’t register her entry. It’s a tough call.” Suddenly, Caleb stumbled, knocking over a potted plant. He swayed, looking like he was about to faint himself. Isabella rushed to his side, steadying him. The moment their eyes met, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. I couldn’t see Isabella’s expression, but I saw her hand tighten on his arm. “Honestly, Ms. Hayes,” the HR rep continued, “we’ve all seen how hard you’ve tried these past three years. Maybe we can just call this one a…” “No,” Isabella cut in, her voice sharp and decisive. The office fell into a dead silence. I could feel the pity in my colleagues’ eyes. The HR rep blinked. “Ms. Hayes, are you sure?” Isabella’s expression was resolute. “As the CEO, I have to lead by example. Besides, I want to marry Bob with a clear conscience, knowing I earned it.” “Next month,” she said, turning her warm gaze on me. “I’ll definitely get it next month. I know Bob is understanding enough to wait for me.” I stared back, my face a mask of stone, and looked away. As the crowd of onlookers dispersed, I saw Isabella catch up to Caleb. “Stop crying,” she whispered. “I didn’t marry him, did I? Besides, you know he’s just a responsibility to me. I don’t even want to marry him.” Caleb’s tears magically stopped, replaced by a sullen pout, waiting for her to coax him back into a good mood. I hadn’t seen her use that kind of patience in years. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I walked back to my desk, pulled out my phone, and methodically cancelled the wedding venue we had on hold. Then I called off the wedding planner. The event coordinator was incredulous. “Sir, if you cancel, the next availability is over a year away. Are you absolutely sure?” I didn’t blame her for being surprised. Three years ago, I’d booked that venue with unshakeable confidence, telling them to save the best ballroom for me. After one, two, ten, thirty postponements, here I was, not getting married, but canceling. It was enough to make anyone curious. My eyes fell on the bouquet of flowers Isabella had sent to my desk as yet another apology. “I’m sure,” I said, my voice unwavering. “Cancel everything.” Before I overheard that conversation in the hospital, I’d had my doubts. I thought maybe we’d grown apart, that she had a simple fear of commitment. But I never, ever suspected betrayal. And I certainly never suspected it would be with Caleb, the “slow” and “annoying” intern she was always complaining about. “That new intern is painfully stupid. It took him three days to sort a simple file.” “Did HR have a lobotomy? Why would they hire an idiot like that?” Isabella, normally so composed, always seemed to fly into a rage whenever Caleb was mentioned. After the hospital, I did some reading. A psychology book said that lashing out like that can be a defense mechanism when you’re trying to deny a powerful attraction. A powerful attraction. Just how powerful was it? I thought back to when we first got together. She was incredible to me then. I once glanced at a watch on another guy’s wrist, and she entered a street race and won it for me. When a summer storm flooded the city, she abandoned her multi-million dollar car and waded through the floodwaters from her mansion on the hill just to get to my apartment. She was a wreck when she found me, covered in mud, but her only concern was whether I was hurt. I couldn’t understand it. How could two people who were once so in love end up here? When I got home, Isabella was already there. She threw her arms around me, pulling my cold body into a hug. “You’re freezing! You always try to look cool and never wear enough layers.” I didn’t answer. My gaze drifted to the coffee table, which was covered in trendy, greasy takeout food. “I heard from the kids at the office that you like this stuff,” she said. “I bought it all to say I’m sorry.” This was all the junk food Caleb always had at his desk. It was obvious who had “suggested” it. When I didn’t react, she tried another angle. “You know, we’re already like a real married couple. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper, a formality. I don’t think we should be so conventional, right?” Years ago, I’d fallen for those lines. I forced myself to be the “cool, understanding boyfriend.” Now I saw that I had just let myself become a fool. “Isabella,” I started to say, but I saw her eyes were glued to her phone, a smile she couldn’t suppress playing on her lips. “Bob, something’s come up at work. I have to go,” she said, already grabbing her keys. “You go ahead and eat.” I watched her hurry out the door and then quietly scraped the entire table of greasy food into the trash. After my kidney transplant, my doctor told me to avoid greasy food. She never remembers. In the dead of night, my phone rang, jolting me awake. It was Isabella’s mother. The second I answered, her shrill voice pierced my ear. “Bob, you have three minutes. Get on every group chat and clear up this mess for Isabella. Now.” Confused, I opened my phone. It wasn’t just our company chat; it was chats with our corporate partners, too. All of them were flooded with pictures of Isabella and Caleb at a bar earlier that night. In the photos, her hand was on his thigh, their heads close together. It was damningly intimate. Isabella was the president of a major bank; her personal conduct and reputation were critical. No wonder her mother was panicking. “Ma’am,” I said coldly, “Isabella made her bed. Why is she afraid to lie in it?” My words sent her into a rage. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Bob! None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a curse! Isabella never missed a day of work in her life until she decided to marry you! Then suddenly it’s one ‘accident’ after another! Do you think that’s a coincidence?” “Honestly, a man whose own parents disowned him can’t have good fortune. Only my foolish daughter would treat you like a treasure. Marrying a man with a missing kidney isn’t a marriage, it’s a liability! And you have the nerve to criticize her?” She spat the words with such conviction, as if I were truly the one who had wronged her daughter. The reason my parents disowned me was because I had defied them, giving up our family home and a high-paying job in a major city to follow Isabella here. At the time, looking at the woman who cared for me so completely, I thought she was worth the gamble. It turned out I had bet on the wrong horse. The thought was another sharp jab of pain. Her mother was still ranting, listing all the ways I had brought misfortune to her daughter. I cut her off. “I’m breaking up with Isabella,” I said calmly. “You don’t need to worry anymore.” I hung up, leaving her sputtering in shock on the other end of the line. I had just lain back down when my phone rang again. It was my dad, from my hometown. We hadn’t spoken in years. I answered, bewildered. His voice was old and trembling. “Bob, you need to come home. Your mother… she’s not going to make it.” My mind went blank. The last time I saw her, she was strong enough to yell at me for leaving. How could she suddenly… My body moved before my brain could catch up. I threw on some clothes and ran for the door. I yanked it open and ran straight into Isabella. Behind her stood Caleb, sobbing hysterically. Before I could process what was happening, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Isabella had slapped me. “Bob! Who gave you permission to follow me? And to slander me and Caleb? When did you become so twisted?” I stumbled back, catching myself on a table. I touched my cheek, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. “Slander? Everyone at the office knows about you two. You don’t need my help with that. And follow you? That’s something someone who still loves you would do, Isabella. I’m done. I just want out.” My words clearly rattled her. A flicker of panic crossed her face. Caleb’s whiny voice cut in. “Bob, please don’t misunderstand. Isabella was just helping me because I’m not very good at my job. Why would you spread those horrible pictures in the group chat? How am I supposed to face anyone?” He clutched his chest, feigning a dramatic gasp. “You’re just playing games to hurt her. I can’t stand to see her upset.” He started wheezing. “Isabella… my asthma… I can’t breathe.” That was all it took. Isabella’s heart melted. She turned back to me, her eyes hard and cruel. “Break up? You think you can threaten me with a breakup to make me forgive what you did to Caleb? Not a chance, Bob. Get on your knees and apologize to him. Now.” I had to get to my mother. I didn’t have time for this. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I shouldn’t have spread false photos to slander you and Caleb. Are we done?” My quick compliance seemed to surprise Isabella. But Caleb clutched his chest again, gasping for air. “Why does the perpetrator get to be so arrogant? We, the victims, are just supposed to accept a hollow apology? What about the psychological damage he’s caused?” Isabella wrapped an arm around him. “What do you want, Caleb? What will make you feel better?” “I can’t show my face in public,” he whimpered. “So let’s make it so he can’t either. Then we’ll be even.” He pulled a small, wicked-looking knife from his pocket. “I’ll just carve a few little words into your face, Bob. You’ll be ugly for a while, but once it heals, my anger will be gone. What you did could stain my reputation for life. This is just a small price to pay. You should be grateful.” My blood ran cold. I stared at the gleaming blade and looked to Isabella, begging her with my eyes. She turned her head away. “You did this to yourself, Bob,” she said. “Just take it.” I couldn’t believe it. This was the woman I had loved for eleven years. The next second, the blade bit into my cheek. I didn’t know what was on it, but besides the slicing pain, there was a searing, chemical burn. I screamed, thrashing, but Isabella held me down, her grip like iron. “Just a little longer, Bob,” she hissed in my ear, her voice demonic. “It’ll be over soon.” The agony was blinding. A surge of adrenaline gave me a strength I didn’t know I had. I broke free from her grasp and shoved Caleb to the ground. He had only fallen to a sitting position, but he let out a blood-curdling shriek. Isabella completely ignored my face, which was already starting to blister and swell. She rushed to Caleb’s side, frantically checking him for injuries. Once she was satisfied he was unharmed, she looked back at me, her face a mask of disgust. “Look at you, Bob. You’ve become a monster. He was just giving you a little punishment for what you did, and you attack him like that. If you keep this up, I really will never marry you.”

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My mother came to me privately and asked me to sell her house. “Your father is having some business difficulties,” she said. “I want to give him a little support.” The house was the only asset my grandmother had left her—a small, solid harbor meant solely for my mother. Now, for my father, she was throwing her harbor onto the market at a steep discount. A buyer contacted me quickly. The woman’s voice was warm and overly friendly. “Hello, could you possibly hold the property for me? My partner wants to gift it to me next week for my birthday.” I glanced at the photo on her phone screen, the one she had up with her ‘partner,’ and I froze. It was my dad. I managed a bright, professional smile, nodding at the woman. “Of course. I look forward to meeting your partner next month at the closing.” 01 After our conversation, I made sure to confirm the buyer’s information again and again. “Just so I can reserve the property, may I please take down the full name and a contact number for the purchasing party?” It wasn’t until I saw the forms—the name, the ID, everything matching my father’s—that the cold truth settled like a lead weight in my stomach. It really was him. The woman handed the paperwork back, her smile wide and self-satisfied. “Such a sweet girl. I hope you find a man who cherishes you as much as mine cherishes me someday.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Next week is my thirty-fifth birthday. He told me he’d get me anything I wanted, no limits. This little condo is older, sure, but the location is downtown. A quick renovation, just the two of us, and it’ll be perfect!” Her ‘kind’ words were a shard of glass in my chest. My grandmother’s last gift to my mother—her safe harbor—was being sold off at a loss so my father could turn it into a present for his mistress. I fought down the nausea, forcing myself to test the waters. “What if… what if your partner can’t come up with the full amount?” I tried to sound apologetic. “I don’t mean anything by it, but buying property is a huge deal. It would be a nightmare if the deal fell through later…” She threw her head back and laughed, as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “If he can’t scrape together a two-million-dollar down payment, why would I bother with him?” She lowered her voice to a proud whisper. “I’m not afraid to tell you, sweetheart, a few of his company’s new projects have hit the jackpot recently.” She shook her wrist, flashing a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. “See this?” she said, preening. “He just picked this up for me last weekend. On a whim.” I stared at the bracelet, the hatred a bitter heat on my tongue. “Your partner is so romantic,” I choked out, my voice tight. “When my mom had her birthday, my dad just gave her a thermos he got from a grocery store promotion.” The woman raised a perfectly sculpted brow, smugness radiating off her. “Men, honey, they know who’s worth spending money on.” She ran a finger over the bracelet. “Last week, I mentioned I was craving Japanese. He immediately booked a table at that place—two hundred dollars a head. Has your mom ever been anywhere like that?” My stomach twisted. I remembered last month, my mother’s birthday, when my father had claimed to be too busy with work and told her to just make herself a bowl of noodles. I took a deep, shuddering breath, swallowing the screaming questions that wanted to burst out. “He sounds incredibly thoughtful,” I managed, pasting my real estate agent’s smile back on. “I’ll get the documents ready for next week’s contract signing, then.” She tossed her hair back, pleased. Her phone buzzed with a message alert. She glanced down, a bright curve to her lips. “Ugh, he’s rushing me. He wants me to test drive. He insists on replacing my old car with a new Porsche; says the old one doesn’t suit me anymore.” She deliberately flashed the screen at me. The chat name on the lock screen read “Hubby,” and the last message was a pinned location for a luxury dealership. My nails dug crescent moons into my palms. Yesterday, my mom had asked him to take her to get her commuter scooter repaired. He’d told her he was locked in with an important client. She swayed her hips as she left, leaving a heavy, cloying cloud of expensive perfume behind. Before she disappeared, I used the excuse of needing an easy channel for closing details to add the woman, Vanessa, on WeChat. That evening, Vanessa’s social media updated. [Test drive surprise! Someone special said white matches my new dress.] The photo showed my father, Mitchell, holding open a car door, beaming, the dealership logo visible behind him. I scrolled down. Last Wednesday: [Midnight feeding] My dad, in a pristine apron, cooking a lavish seafood feast in what looked like a custom kitchen. When my mother’s arthritis flared up and she couldn’t stand to cook, he told her to eat instant noodles and manage. Last Sunday: [Gift haul unboxing] A sofa piled high with designer shopping bags. The family account ledger from that same week showed he had refused my mom’s request for a new refrigerator. In every photo, my father’s smile was indulgent and doting, a completely different man from the one who sighed and complained about “tough times” at home. I screenshotted every image, saving the evidence. My phone vibrated with an incoming call. It was my father. “Sasha, any progress on the house?” His voice sounded weary, stressed. “Your mother’s been nagging. Try to talk some sense into her.” I stared at the screenshot of him, arm-in-arm with his mistress, test driving a luxury car. “Dad,” I said softly, “what time are you coming home today? Mom made braised pork.” He paused. “Can’t. Client dinner. Gotta schmooze.” He sighed, heavily. “Business is just so difficult these days.” The call ended. I pulled up my mother’s recently posted social media update. It was a photo of her standing next to our old, yellowed refrigerator. The caption read: [Suddenly stopped cooling. The meat smells a little… off. Any suggestions for salvaging it, ladies?] The first comment was from my father. [Don’t waste it. Boil it longer, you can still eat it.] I saved the last screenshot, locked my phone, and put it away. Next week, on the day of the signing, I would be presenting him with a substantial ‘birthday gift’ of my own. 02 When I pushed open the door, my mother, Eleanor, was crouched in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor. The water she wrung from the mop was grey with soapy residue, and her fingers were red and chapped from the cold water. Her sleeve was stained with the dark residue of the herbal medicine she’d boiled this morning. “Mom.” My voice was rough. “Stop scrubbing. Did you get the fridge fixed?” She looked up, forcing a smile. “Your dad said we need to hold out a little longer. We’ll replace it once business picks up.” I stared at her split, cracked fingernails, a sharp, cold pang gripping my heart. Last year, when my dad was dealing with a flare-up of his rheumatism, she had shelled walnuts by hand to crush into his medicine, tearing off half a nail in the process. All he had said was that women were “just too delicate.” And she, my sweet, loyal mother, had actually started blaming herself for being too fragile. “How did the house talk go?” She steadied herself on the counter, clutching her lower back. “Your dad was coughing all night. I need to get that money together quickly…” I cut her off. I held out my phone. “Just look at this first.” Confused, she took the phone. Her fingers slid across the screen, bringing up Vanessa’s feed. The posts rolled past: Mitch smiling next to the Porsche [Test drive surprise]; Mitch in the kitchen making an elaborate seafood dinner [Midnight feeding]; and the most recent, most galling post: [Someone special said my bracelet was too plain, didn’t match my new dress.] The accompanying image was the Van Cleef & Arpels counter, a sales associate packaging a matching necklace. “I checked the price,” I said, my voice low and hard. “Even the cheapest version of that necklace is over eight thousand dollars.” “Th-this is…?” My mother’s hands were shaking. “This is the client who came to view the house today. Guess who’s buying it for her? My dad.” I watched her face as I explained, my words cutting through the air. “He cries poverty to us, Mom, but he’s pouring money into her.” “Impossible…” Her lips trembled. “Your dad said money was so tight he even had to cut my prescription coverage for a few months…” I pulled up the bank transfer screenshots. “Tight?” I pointed at the large, frequent transfers to Vanessa. “Eighty thousand dollars sent over three months. The notes all say ‘wellness investment.’” She suddenly stumbled toward the bedroom, returning with a rusted metal box. It was stuffed with yellowing receipts: my dad’s physical therapy bills, his vitamin subscriptions, his supplements. On every one, she’d written in her delicate script: Mitch’s health is paramount. The irony was staggering. At the very bottom was a photocopy of my grandmother’s will: Property bequeathed to Eleanor. May it be a place of shelter and refuge. My mother looked at the receipts, then the will, and the tears finally burst through. “How… how could he do this to me?” she choked out. “It wasn’t enough to take my money, to take my life—he wanted to steal my last anchor, too!” “Your grandmother warned me again and again…” She sobbed, caressing the copy of the will. “This house, Sasha, this was my root.” I picked up a recent receipt. Last week, Mitch took five hundred dollars for “holistic supplements.” That same week, Vanessa’s social media showed a new designer handbag. “Look closely, Mom,” I said, holding up the phone to the receipt. “His ‘supplements’ are what she’s wearing.” She suddenly snatched the phone, swiping furiously. Every photo of Vanessa’s boasting was a lash across her face. Mitch cooking, Mitch jewelry shopping, Mitch test-driving a new car. “When I was in the hospital last year for my surgery…” She stared at his adoring smile in one photo. “He said the hospital signal was bad… he was busy being her personal chef…” Tears splashed onto the screen, and then, slowly, a soundless laugh broke from her. “No wonder he always complained my medicine tasted bitter…” She grabbed the stack of receipts and hurled them against the wall. “Using my life’s savings to bankroll that little tramp!” In the flurry of falling paper, her bent back slowly, painfully, straightened. “Sasha.” She wiped her eyes, her voice now flat and cold. “Next week, for the contract signing, I’m coming with you.”

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On our wedding night, my husband, Bobby, made a bet with his best friend. “I bet you’ll cheat within ten years. And when you do, half your company is mine.” Bobby slammed his fist into the wall, a spray of blood marking the impact. “Serena, you listen to me!” he roared, his eyes wild. “If I ever lay a hand on another woman, I swear on my life, may I die without an heir!” For the next nine years, he was the perfect husband. He transferred his entire salary to my account, his phone’s location was open to me 24/7, and he was never alone with another woman. When his best friend’s wife confessed her feelings for him in a drunken stupor, Bobby threw a glass of wine in her face. “Try that again,” he snarled, “and I’ll let your husband deal with you.” I was more certain than ever that he would never cheat. But on the eve of the ten-year anniversary of our bet, I received a link to an anonymous cloud drive. Inside were over a hundred videos. Sex tapes of Bobby and his best friend’s wife, twisted together in every conceivable position. In one, the woman was lying on our marital bed. She looked into the camera, flashed a victory sign, and whispered: “Ten years are up. He lost the bet. And I won him.” So, you like to gamble, I thought. Fine. Let’s play this to the end. … The lights were still on in the living room when Bobby came home late that night. Just like always, he loosened his tie and leaned in to kiss me. “Serena, why are you still up? Waiting for me?” I turned my head, his lips meeting empty air. I pushed the divorce agreement across the coffee table toward him. “Sign it. I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow morning. Nine a.m.” The smile on Bobby’s face froze. He picked up the papers, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Serena, stop playing games. Tomorrow is our tenth anniversary.” Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. It was Leo, his best friend. The husband of the woman in the videos. Bobby put the call on speaker, and Leo’s furious roar filled the room. “Bobby! Are you even human, you son of a bitch?! I treated you like a brother, and you played me for a fool!” Bobby’s face went white. He shot a panicked glance at me. “Leo, calm down…” “Calm down?! I’ve seen the videos! A hundred of them! You two really had fun, didn’t you? Trying out positions we never even got to!” Before Bobby could respond, another call came through. It was Kelly. He answered it immediately, his voice softening into a gentle murmur. “Kelly? Don’t be scared. Did he hit you? Where are you? Are you hurt?” He paced the living room, his voice a low, soothing balm for the woman on the other end of the line, while I sat there like an irrelevant stranger in my own home. A moment later, the front door was kicked open. Leo stormed in, his eyes bloodshot, with a sobbing Kelly trailing behind him. “Bobby!” Leo lunged, his fist connecting with Bobby’s jaw. Bobby staggered back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But he didn’t even look at Leo. His first instinct was to rush to Kelly’s side, shielding her trembling form with his own. “Leo, if you’re angry, take it out on me! Don’t you touch her!” “Touch her?” Leo laughed, a ragged, broken sound. He spun to face me. “Serena! Do you see this?! Nine years ago, to prove his love to you, he made a show of throwing wine in my wife’s face! And I actually believed he was some kind of saint! Turns out they were screwing each other the whole time! And now that it’s all out, his first move is to comfort this slut! He hasn’t even asked you if you’re okay!” Every word was a poisoned needle, piercing my heart until I couldn’t breathe. Bobby pulled Kelly closer, his eyes finally finding mine, a flicker of pleading in their depths. “Serena, this has nothing to do with Kelly. It’s my fault. All of it. Don’t blame her.” Even now, he was protecting her. Afraid I would hurt her, afraid I would blame her. And what about me? What was I? I rose to my feet and walked toward him, step by deliberate step. “Bobby,” I said, my voice steady, “do you remember our baby? The one we lost?” His body went rigid. The color drained from his face, and the hand protecting Kelly began to tremble. “Serena… don’t.” “Why not?” I smiled, but tears streamed down my face. “I remember that day. I was lying in a hospital bed, and you were holding my hand, crying like a child. You told me the pain was killing you. And you know what, Bobby? I actually believed you.” As I spoke, my gaze fixed on the way Kelly’s hand instinctively flew to cover her stomach. Understanding dawned on Leo’s face. He lunged at Kelly, tearing at her clothes, a manic grin spreading across his face as he stared at Bobby. “Pain? You weren’t in pain, you son of a bitch! You were fucking ecstatic! She’s pregnant! With your child! It happened that day! The same day Serena had her miscarriage! You were holding my wife in your arms while you texted Serena that you loved her! You’re not a man, you’re an animal!” BOOM. My world collapsed. On the day I lost my child, my husband was with another woman, creating a new life for themselves. Leo had completely lost it, screaming that he was going to kill Kelly, that he wanted them both dead. Without a second thought, Bobby shoved me aside, throwing himself in front of Kelly, shielding her with his body. I stumbled, my forehead cracking against the sharp corner of the coffee table. A searing pain, and then warmth. Blood trickled down, blurring my vision. The world spun. Through the chaos, I could hear Kelly’s terrified screams and Bobby’s desperate reassurances. “Kelly, don’t be scared! I’m here!” The blood from my head dripped onto the floor, one drop at a time, blooming like a dark, beautiful flower. The doctor gave me five stitches and told me to stay for observation. Bobby didn’t even glance my way. He was standing guard outside another room. Kelly had been shaken by the ordeal and was inside being examined. He paced back and forth like a caged animal. Nine years ago, when I was hospitalized with acute appendicitis, he’d stayed by my side for three days and nights straight, his eyes red from lack of sleep. I’d stroked his face, my heart aching for him. “Serena,” he’d whispered, “as long as you’re okay, nothing else matters.” Now, I was bleeding, and he couldn’t spare me a single look. A nurse came out of Kelly’s room. Bobby rushed forward. “How is she? Is the baby okay?” “Don’t worry, Mr. Vance. The fetus is stable. The mother is just a bit emotionally distressed.” He let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, looking more shaken than he had on the day I’d lost our baby. Finally, he seemed to remember me. He turned and walked over. “Serena, what did the doctor say? Does your head still hurt?” He reached out, as if to touch the bandage on my forehead. I snapped my head up, my eyes locking onto his. “Bobby, you told me you fell in love with me the first time we met.” His hand froze. His gaze flickered. “You said I was the only light in your life.” “You said you would die without me.” My voice was a whisper, but each word was a knife, carving up the mockery of our past. His throat worked, and he finally managed to speak. “Serena, my love for you… it was real…” “Real?” I laughed, and the laughter turned into sobs. “Then is it also real that the baby in her stomach was conceived on the same day I had a miscarriage?” The question struck him like a bolt of lightning, leaving him ashen-faced. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Just as I thought he might offer an explanation, even a lie, the door to Kelly’s room opened. A nurse poked her head out. “Mr. Vance, the patient is very unstable, she won’t stop crying. Could you please come in?” Bobby flinched, then immediately scrambled to his feet and headed for the door. He glanced back at me, a flicker of something like pity in his eyes. “Serena, wait for me here. Kelly… her situation is delicate right now.” There it was again. Always for Kelly. I looked at him and felt a surge of bitter amusement. My head was throbbing, the bandage already stained red with fresh blood. But in his eyes, my pain was worth less than a single one of Kelly’s tears. He didn’t even ask if my wound was serious before rushing into that room. I could hear his gentle, cooing voice through the door, each soft word another slice into my already shredded heart. I don’t know how I made it home. The huge villa was empty, as cold and silent as a tomb. I sat on the sofa all night. From dusk until dawn. Bobby never came back. Not a single call, not a single text. I knew where he was. He was at the hospital, watching over Kelly and their child. Just like he had watched over me nine years ago. No. He was even more attentive now, more anxious. The difference between love and non-love was painfully clear. I opened my social media. Kelly had posted an update. It was a photo of Bobby, asleep by her hospital bed, one hand resting protectively on her stomach. The caption read: With you here, I can rest easy. Thank you, my hero. It was followed by a heart emoji. I stared at the picture, my heart grinding into dust. In college, a senior wouldn’t stop harassing me. Bobby found out and beat the guy so badly he ended up in the hospital. He’d held me then, as I shook with fear, and whispered, “Don’t be scared, Serena. I’m your hero. No one will ever hurt you again.” Now, my hero was protecting another woman. And I was just the old, discarded thing he’d left behind. It wasn’t until ten in the morning that the front door finally opened. Bobby walked in, smelling of exhaustion and antiseptic. He saw me on the sofa and froze, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Serena, you… you’ve been up all night?” He came closer, bringing with him the faint, cloying scent of Kelly’s perfume. I didn’t answer. I just looked at him. The wound on my forehead had seeped blood overnight, matting my hair to my skin. I must have looked pathetic. His brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you go back to the hospital to get that changed? The doctor told you to stay for observation.” A harsh, ugly laugh escaped my lips. “You remember that?” My laughter seemed to needle him. His voice turned cold. “Serena, can you stop with the sarcasm? Kelly just had a major scare. I couldn’t leave her.” “She had a scare?” I stood up slowly, advancing on him. “And what about me? I have five stitches in my head. I bled all over the floor. Do I just deserve that?” “It’s not the same!” he blurted out. “Kelly’s pregnant! If you hadn’t provoked Leo, would he have gone crazy? Would Kelly have been in danger? You should be the one thinking about what you did!” I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins. He was blaming me. For everything. In his mind, Kelly was the innocent, fragile victim who needed protection. And I was the vicious, spiteful villain who started it all. I remembered a time, long ago, when a colleague at work stole one of my designs and tried to frame me. Bobby had heard my side of the story and, without a moment’s hesitation, had his team gather evidence and destroy her career. “I trust my Serena,” he’d said, ruffling my hair. “No questions asked.” Now, the man who had promised unconditional trust was pointing a finger at me, telling me it was all my fault, all for the sake of another woman. I looked at the face I had loved for ten years and saw a complete stranger. All the love, the resentment, the bitterness… it all vanished in that one moment. “Bobby,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “let’s get a divorce.” I pushed the signed papers toward him. “If there are no objections, sign it.” He glanced at the document, his eyes turning to ice. “Serena, what’s the point of this? Kelly and Leo’s marriage was a mistake. She was unhappy. I was just trying to comfort her.” “Comfort her?” I sneered. “Comfort her until she got pregnant with your child?” He didn’t deny it. Instead, he became defiant. “Serena, this is our family’s bloodline. I can finally give my parents a grandchild. Maybe you should blame your own barren womb. Ten years, and you couldn’t even give our family an heir. In a way, Kelly was helping you!” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I couldn’t breathe. I snapped. SLAP. The force of my hand striking his face echoed in the silent room. “You make me sick! These ten years, I must have been blind!” Bobby clutched his reddening cheek, his voice a low snarl. “If you want a divorce, fine. But not now. The annual company conference is in two days, and as my wife, you are required to be there.” SLAM! He stormed out, leaving me alone in the wreckage. On the day of the Vance Group’s annual conference, I arrived in a stunning evening gown, not as a wife, but as a shareholder. Kelly, her baby bump prominent, swept towards me. She leaned in close, a mocking smile on her lips. “You lost, Serena. Today, I’m going to show everyone who the most important woman in Bobby’s life really is.” Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist with surprising strength and slammed my hand onto her pregnant belly. In the same instant, she let out a blood-curdling scream and threw herself backward. “Aaaah—!” The entire ballroom erupted in chaos. Bobby’s face went sheet-white. He sprinted across the room, catching her just before she hit the floor. “My stomach… it hurts so much…” Kelly wailed, tears streaming down her pale face. She clung to Bobby’s arm with one hand, while the other pointed a trembling finger at me. “Serena… I know you hate me, but the baby is innocent… Why did you push me?!” Bobby, cradling Kelly, looked at me with pure, unadulterated venom. “Serena, I never knew you could be so evil!” “I didn’t,” I said, my voice shaking despite myself. “You dare deny it?!” he roared. “Do you want them both dead?! If anything happens to Kelly, I will destroy you! Security! Get this crazy woman out of here!” The flashbulbs of the press exploded around me. The air was thick with whispers. “She pushed a pregnant woman… What kind of monster is she?” “The barren hen is jealous of the one who can lay eggs.” “Get out of the Vance family, you vicious bitch!” The accusations washed over me, a tidal wave of hatred. Hundreds of eyes, like poisoned daggers, were aimed at me. I was frozen, unable to defend myself. Bobby carefully lifted Kelly into his arms. The look he gave me was devoid of any lingering affection, filled only with rage. Just then, a hand closed around my wrist. It was Leo. “Come with me.” Away from the crowd, he let go and pulled a USB drive from his pocket. “What’s this?” I asked. “Every hotel record, every bank transfer between Bobby and Kelly for the past ten years. And some… other highlights.” I stiffened. Leo’s voice was tinged with a desperate, hollow laugh. “Yesterday, that bastard asked me to step aside and ‘let them be happy.’ To bless their happy little family.” A cold smile touched my lips. “Did those two really think Serena Vance was a doormat they could just walk all over? Everything they’ve done to me… I will repay them a hundredfold.” Under the shocked stares of everyone in the room, I walked to the main stage and plugged the USB drive into the central computer. The massive screen behind the stage lit up. Bobby, who was about to carry Kelly out, froze. His face went so white he nearly collapsed. On the screen, crystal clear for everyone to see, was security footage from our bedroom. Bobby and Kelly, tangled together on our bed. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The people who had been screaming at me just moments before were now silent. Bobby’s face was no longer just pale; it was the grey of a corpse. He stared at the screen, his body trembling uncontrollably. He couldn’t accept that the perfect image he had so carefully curated was being destroyed in such a public, humiliating way. “No… that’s not real… it’s not real…” he muttered, lost and broken. He staggered backward and fell to the floor, the light gone from his eyes. “What is the tech team doing?” Bobby, on the stage, roared. “Turn it off! Turn it off now!” He lunged for the computer, but Leo was there, blocking his path. The crowd murmured, their attention glued to the screen. On the bed, Kelly looked directly at the camera and smiled, a triumphant, smug expression on her face. Bobby froze, his face a mask of horror. The video’s audio kicked in, followed by a recording of their conversations. Kelly’s voice, sweet and seductive. “Bobby, darling, the ten years are almost up. Are you really going to lose half your company to Leo?” Bobby’s voice, full of contempt. “It’s just a bet. That idiot Serena actually believed my whole devoted husband act. After the bet is over, I’ll find a way to get Leo’s shares too. The whole company will be ours.” “And your wife?” “Her? She’s just a pretty vase with no connections. Without me, she’s nothing.” Dead silence. Then, an uproar. The camera flashes were blinding, aimed at Bobby on the stage and me in the crowd. The board members’ faces were thunderous. “You ungrateful whelp!” Bobby’s father, shaking with rage, pointed at his son. His mother’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted. “Mom!” “Someone call an ambulance!” The scene descended into chaos. Bobby charged toward me, his eyes blazing. “Serena! You did this! You poisonous bitch!” He raised his hand to strike me. Leo stepped in front of me and delivered a swift, hard kick to Bobby’s chest. “You touch her, Bobby, and I’ll kill you.” Leo’s eyes were murderous. I pushed him aside, picked up a microphone, and walked onto the stage. The noise instantly died down. I looked at the man I once loved, now a pathetic heap on the floor, and felt nothing but disgust. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “As you can see, this ten-year marriage was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated business fraud.” “I, Serena Vance, am hereby announcing my immediate divorce from Bobby Vance.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over the horrified faces of the board members. “Furthermore, as a shareholder of the Vance Group, I, along with the other victim in this matter, Mr. Leo Vance, will be launching a full investigation into this fraudulent scheme. We will pursue legal action against all responsible parties.” I dropped the mic. With cameras flashing all around us, I took Leo’s arm and walked out of the ballroom, my head held high. Behind me, Bobby’s desperate, fading roars were the last sound I heard.

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The snarky little post I’d made on The Sprawl—a private forum for rich, disgruntled wives—had exploded overnight. I had vented about finding yet another piece of lingerie that wasn’t mine. Now, I watched the comments roll in, but one private message stood out, a blue-check account I didn’t recognize: @UnattainableIdeal: He didn’t cheat. He just wants you to flirt with him, Avery. He wants you to stop being so buttoned-up and boring. I snapped a photo of the pale pink lace slip I’d just pulled from between the sofa cushions—a damning piece of evidence if ever there was one. @AveryThorne: Are you sure about that? The typing bubble appeared and vanished several times. A few seconds of silence stretched. @UnattainableIdeal: …He wants you to wear it. I was done with the whole ridiculous, degrading scavenger hunt. This was the tenth piece of intimate apparel I’d found in our Boston penthouse in as many months. I ignored the anonymous user and grabbed my phone to call my lawyer, Leo. “Did you finally draft those papers?” 1 Miles Thorne pushed the door open, his expression as cool and detached as the polished granite countertop in the kitchen. I was sitting on the Italian leather sofa, staring straight at him. Next to me, the pale pink lace slip was a glaring, obvious spot against the charcoal gray cushion. Miles glanced over. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, brushed past me, landed on the lingerie, and then moved on without a flicker of acknowledgment. He simply walked toward the stairs. The sheer dismissal was a slap in the face. Impotent rage—that’s what the feeling was. He was bringing women into our home, leaving their secrets scattered for me to find, and he couldn’t even bother to offer a lie. He treated me like a ghost in my own marriage mausoleum. I snatched up my phone and went back to my post on The Sprawl, typing furiously. @AveryThorne: My husband is cheating, fine. But does he have to keep leaving lace slips and silky camisoles everywhere? What is his goal? To provoke me? Can’t he keep his affairs out of the house?! The comments poured in. WTF, is he serious? You haven’t yelled at him? He’s definitely doing it on purpose. Why are you staying, girl? Do you like the drama? I replied with cold cynicism: Look, he might be a player, but the man has money. Serious money. The collective wisdom of the internet told me to swallow my pride and stop looking for the evidence. A trade-off, Avery. While I was wallowing in this melancholy, the private message popped up again. @UnattainableIdeal: He didn’t cheat. He just wants you to flirt with him, Avery. He wants you to stop being so buttoned-up and boring. I narrowed my eyes. How could you possibly know that? No reply. I scoffed, taking the picture of the slip again and sending it. You sure? If you don’t find this repulsive, you have my respect. (Followed by a strong-arm emoji). @UnattainableIdeal: …He wants you to wear it. I actually laughed. This person was a complete freak. I was genuinely tired of this. I hadn’t looked at the account again, dialing my lawyer, Leo. “Is the divorce agreement ready?” Last month, I’d found a satin bunny costume tucked deep under the master bed. That was the last straw. I’d called Leo that night. But Miles and I had been married for five years, and I’d grown very accustomed to the life his money afforded. There was also the residual, old feeling of affection. I had loved him—until his nonstop work, his constant absence, slowly chipped away at the foundation until there was nothing left but two strangers sharing a very expensive zip code. My hesitation had stalled the process. I kept thinking I needed the right time to talk to him. Now, I thought, maybe he’s been trying to talk to me all along. Maybe this whole lingerie scavenger hunt was his clumsy, silent plea for me to end it. Fine. I’ll give him what he wants. Leo replied, “It’s been ready for a week, Avery. But I’m out of the country. Do you want to come to the firm and pick it up, or should I have my assistant courier it to you?” “Courier it,” I sighed. “Your firm is practically in the next state. I’m too lazy for that drive…” A cold voice cut through the silence of the room. “Avery. Who are you talking to?” I instantly hung up, turning to face him, forcing a casual look. “I thought you were in your study.” Miles stood on the bottom step, his eyebrows low, his gaze locked onto me. “Who were you just on the phone with?” Was he interrogating me? The man who was currently having an affair? I glared back. “Mind your own business.” I yanked the lace slip fully out of the couch, marched toward him, and threw it right at his chest. “Why don’t you mind your own first.” 2 Back in the bedroom, a message from my friend, Liv, flashed on my screen. Liv: Avery, seriously, you need to watch Miles. I heard he’s getting way too cozy with his new executive assistant. She followed up with a photo. Miles was leaning over a document, his face obscured by shadow, while a pretty, slender woman stood right next to him, leaning in, their shoulders practically touching. It was an unnervingly intimate angle. I let out a cold laugh. When was this taken? Liv: Just yesterday. I’d been at my spa retreat yesterday. That explained the fresh piece of lace on the couch. My fingers tightened faintly around my phone. It was a strange feeling—not sharp pain, but a deep, numbing ache of betrayal. But we were on the verge of divorce, so those ambiguous feelings didn’t matter. I thanked Liv. I noticed the annoying user, @UnattainableIdeal, had messaged me one second ago. @UnattainableIdeal: Does this make you angry? That your husband is doing this? My eyes widened. I typed back furiously. Is it not obvious enough?! Does he even see me anymore?! @UnattainableIdeal: It sounds like you really care about him. I was speechless. What nerve. The person continued: You should try to be proactive. Go to him, try to flirt a little, and tell him you’re bothered. I stared at the last phrase: tell him you’re bothered. It wasn’t really jealousy, it was disgust, but I was too tired to explain. He’s cheating. You think that’ll work? @UnattainableIdeal: It will. The certainty in that one word was maddening. I clicked on their profile. Just a bunch of blurry photos of houseplants. Nothing useful. @UnattainableIdeal: Most men are like this. I snorted. I sent a dry: Oh. I just wanted this person to stop, so I added: Fine. I’ll try it later. The account went quiet. Thank God. In reality, I turned off my phone and yawned. My eyelids felt heavy. Sleep beckoned. The world was ending, but first, I needed a nap. 3 I woke up starving in the middle of the night. I stumbled downstairs, groggy, planning to snatch a yogurt from the fridge. A sudden, low voice startled me into wakefulness. “Avery.” I nearly dropped the carton, whipping my head around. Miles was on the sofa, his long legs crossed, staring into the dark room. By the sliver of moonlight filtering through the window, I could just make out the intense focus of his eyes on me. I stammered. “W-w-what are you doing sitting in the living room?” His voice was husky, a low grate. “I forgot. What were you doing in the room?” I gave him a baffled look. “Sleeping, Miles. I woke up from a deep sleep. It’s the middle of the night.” Was it my imagination, or did he visibly freeze for a second? I grabbed my yogurt and waved dismissively. “I’m going back to bed. You should too.” Miles stared at me, his lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he ultimately remained silent. I woke up the next day just before noon. The first message I saw was from Liv. Liv: You’re not going to the Thorne corporate event? The updated guest list for the big commercial gala listed Miles’s new executive assistant as his date. As his date, Avery. Did you two have a fight? I quietly read the lines. A faint, bitter smile touched my lips. We were getting divorced soon. I didn’t need to be upset about this. But still… It was true Miles and I lacked passion, but we had always maintained a kind of stiff, polite respect. Now, with the lingerie and the public date, it seemed clear: he had found someone he genuinely cared about and was deliberately pushing me out. I would grant him his wish. The annoying user popped up again. @UnattainableIdeal: Did you try my advice? Did it work? Persistent, I thought. I hadn’t had the slightest intention of going to Miles and confessing my feelings. I sent a cold laugh. No, it didn’t work. We’re getting divorced. 4 The reply was instantaneous. A bright red exclamation mark followed by a two-word message. @UnattainableIdeal: Don’t do it! I raised an eyebrow. He was more stressed than I was. Why not? he asked. I gave a dry chuckle, typing quickly. He’s taking another woman to the biggest corporate event of the year. What am I supposed to stay for? To cheer them on? Silence. A long five minutes passed before a reply came. @UnattainableIdeal: Maybe he just wants to make you jealous. He’s hoping you’ll demand to go with him. I stared at the screen and almost burst out laughing. This person’s reasoning was truly astonishing. To justify this much callous behavior. I was done debating. I ended the conversation. I’m not going. He can bring the whole staff if he wants. I don’t want to see his stone-cold face anyway. I exited the chat. Leo’s firm was efficient. The next afternoon, the assistant couriered the package. I tore it open and pulled out the divorce papers. Two copies, all the necessary information filled out. All it needed were Miles’s and my signatures. I picked up a pen and, with careful, deliberate strokes, signed my name on the line for the wife. A hollow feeling settled in my chest. Five years. Just like that. I placed the signed papers prominently on the living room coffee table, packed a small suitcase, and headed to my own place—a pre-nup loft I’d bought before the wedding. I needed a quiet place to contemplate how I would spend the rest of my life after taking half of Miles Thorne’s fortune. 5 I spent two days at the loft, sleeping and eating, catching up on the emotional exhaustion of the last few years. On the third day, my phone nearly melted from Liv’s frantic calls. Liv: Avery! Are you really not coming?! Your husband actually brought the little secretary! Holy hell, Chloe is wearing a custom couture gown! You need to get here! If the Queen doesn’t show up, the mistress takes the throne! I read Liv’s chain of messages and looked at the few candid photos she’d snapped. Miles was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his expression utterly impassive. Next to him was the secretary, Chloe. Young, beautiful, and in a white mermaid-style dress that made her look like a pure, delicate flower. A knot formed in my stomach. It was a lie to say I wasn’t bothered. But then I reminded myself that I was divorcing him. Why should I care? I texted Liv back. I’m not coming. They can be happy together. I’m busy cashing out. Liv: …Are you serious? It’s Miles Thorne! Yes. It was Miles Thorne. The hardest man to catch at Harvard Business School, the one who’d pursued me for a full year before I finally agreed to marry him. The man who, despite his coldness after marriage, never once held back his wealth. My resolve wavered. Just then, the mysterious user popped up again. @UnattainableIdeal: Are you really not going to the event? Your husband looks incredible tonight. If you don’t go, he will be very disappointed. I stared at the messages, a surge of pure fury hitting me. Disappointed? He brought another woman as his date and he expected me to cheer him on? I typed, pressing down the rage. I don’t care. @UnattainableIdeal: If you went, he would be happy. He got you a gift. A gift? I gave a cold laugh. Was it another lace slip? Or something even more bizarre? I was about to block him when Liv’s call came through again, her voice vibrating with excitement. “Avery! Check the trending page!” I opened the social media app. #ThorneCEOandNewFlame was sitting at number one. I clicked in, and high-resolution photos and videos of the gala flooded the screen. Miles’s god-like handsome face was flawless under the lights. He and Chloe did, indeed, look like a perfect couple. The comments section was a battlefield. OMG! Who is that woman? Not his wife, Avery! Where have you been? They’ve been playing their own games for years. The secretary has serious game to land Miles Thorne. Am I the only one who thinks the CEO looks miserable? Like someone owes him ten million dollars. I couldn’t help but smile at the “miserable” comment. It was true; Miles in the photos looked like his jaw was set in concrete. As I was enjoying the schadenfreude, Liv shrieked into the phone. “Did you see it?! The necklace around her neck! The Heart of the Ocean! Miles bought it at auction last week for nine million dollars!” My heart plummeted. I had seen the news about that auction. I even joked with Liv that some woman was incredibly lucky. I just didn’t expect that woman to be his secretary. 6 He bought me a designer handbag for my birthday. The most expensive was maybe a few hundred thousand. It wasn’t that he was stingy. It was that he thought I wasn’t worth the grand gesture. A strange mix of bitterness and white-hot anger rushed through me. I took a deep breath. “Liv,” I said, my voice steady. “I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything!” “Send your emergency gown and your stylist to my loft. Now. Immediately.” Liv’s efficiency was startling. Within half an hour, my single-bedroom loft looked like a celebrity dressing room backstage. “Avery, you finally snapped? We’re crashing the party?” Liv asked, directing the stylist while practically bouncing with excitement. I sat in front of the mirror, looking at my slightly pale, tired face. My eyes, however, were blazing. “Crash it?” I smirked, letting the stylist pin up my hair. “I’m going to reclaim what’s mine.” I was still Miles Thorne’s wife. His date, publicly, had to be me. If a divorce was happening, I would be the one kicking him out, not the other way around. The stylist and makeup artist were world-class. In less than an hour, the mirror reflected a radiant, fiercely beautiful woman. A strapless gown of siren-red silk made my skin look porcelain. The high slit in the skirt gave fleeting glimpses of my long legs. My long, dark hair was swept up, a few loose curls framing a face defined by a powerful red lip. “Holy shit, Avery. If you dressed like this all the time, that secretary wouldn’t even exist!” Liv stared, slack-jawed. I smiled, a predatory curve of my lips, and grabbed a tiny clutch. “Let’s go. Time for the main event.”

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I’ve always been the type to get straight to the point. So when I found a photo of a strange girl sleeping in my sniper husband’s private album, I didn’t hesitate. I slid a set of divorce papers across the table to him. Either sign them, or cut ties with her for good. Aiden Pierce rubbed his temples, cutting me off, his voice laced with irritation. “She was just a hostage I rescued on my last mission. The kid’s got PTSD, I can’t just abandon her. Do you have to make a federal case out of this?” He leaned back, his tone hardening. “Besides, without me, where would you even go? You’d have nowhere to land.” His words struck me dumb. I just stood there, frozen. He must have seen the look on my face because he immediately realized he’d crossed a line and started to backpedal. But before he could spin some half-hearted apology, I asked softly, “Does ‘taking care of a hostage’ include holding her while she sleeps?” … My voice was barely a whisper, but it hit Aiden like a sniper’s bullet. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid. The casual arrogance vanished, replaced by a cold, guarded alertness. He took a half-step back. “How do you know that?” How did I know? Because his dear Miss Sierra couldn’t wait to come and tell me herself. Before I could answer, Aiden’s posture softened completely. “Clara, Sierra’s not like the others.” “You don’t need to go after her,” he said, his voice almost pleading. I guessed he was afraid I’d do what I’d done before—hunt down any woman who got too close, just as soon as I caught a whiff of rumor. Afraid I’d leave Sierra a social pariah, just like all the others. But not this time. This time, I was done. I genuinely wanted a divorce. The way he was protecting her was proof enough that this girl was different. After all, he’d always let me deal with the other women from his past scandals however I saw fit. He called her “well-behaved”? If she were so innocent, why would she have sought me out? But I wasn’t going to be the one to expose her. Aiden would find out the truth on his own soon enough. “If she’s so perfect, wouldn’t it be better for you to just divorce me and marry her?” I suggested, my voice even. Aiden shook his head, his answer swift and absolute. “Clara, you will always be my wife. I will never divorce you.” A flare of anger ignited in my chest, but it was quickly extinguished by his cold, matter-of-fact tone. “So, you don’t have to bother Sierra. She’s no threat to your position.” The calculated way he said it, the way he reduced our marriage to a “position,” made my stomach turn. When had he started measuring love in terms of profit and loss? He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that when we first married, he was just a junior officer living in a cramped little house on the base. “Aiden,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “If all I ever wanted was your power and status, why would I have married you back then?” He stared at me for a long moment, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Clara, before you say something like that, take a look at what you’re wearing.” His eyes raked over me. “Without me, could you afford those five-figure outfits? That six-figure jewelry?” He closed the distance between us, pulling me into a rough embrace. His warm breath ghosted against my ear. “My paychecks go to your account, and my heart is with you.” The faint, metallic scent of gunpowder still clung to him from the training grounds. “As for where my body is… don’t be too demanding, alright?” I struggled against his grip, but he held me fast, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched my futile efforts. Finally, he let me go with a low chuckle. He leaned in close, his dark eyes boring into mine. “People who get too greedy, Clara… they end up with nothing.” Just then, his phone buzzed. Sierra. The call shattered the tense standoff and, in a way, saved me from further humiliation. He was right. On my own, I could never afford this life. Without him, I really had nowhere to go. Ever since my mother died and my father remarried, I hadn’t had a home to call my own. I twisted the diamond ring off my finger. He’d had it custom-made after his last commendation ceremony. I remembered the price tag clearly: seventy thousand dollars. The necklace I was wearing was part of the set, another two hundred twenty thousand. The dress I had on was nearly six thousand. Money I could never earn in a lifetime. But so what? I didn’t need jewelry. I could wear simple clothes. Instead of making me reconsider, Aiden’s words only strengthened my resolve. Over the next few days, I made the rounds of every law firm in the area. Each one turned me down. When I tried to file for a contested divorce directly, the clerks at the courthouse were tight-lipped and unhelpful. I dragged my exhausted body back to our house on the base one evening to find Aiden sitting in the living room, calmly reading the newspaper. “Find a lawyer willing to take your case, Clara?” he asked without looking up. His single question confirmed it. He was the one pulling the strings, making sure my efforts were fruitless. “I told you,” he said, folding the paper. “This divorce isn’t happening.” He held out a handkerchief. “Wipe your face.” I slapped it out of his hand. He just chuckled, unfazed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve been cooped up in this house for too long. You’ve forgotten that the world isn’t black and white.” I said nothing, just turned away with a cold smirk. He wasn’t wrong. The past few days had certainly been an education. “Sierra had a moment of weakness, that’s why she bothered you,” he said, his tone turning conciliatory. “I promise she will never appear before you again.” “And you?” I challenged, meeting his eyes. “Can you promise to cut ties with her completely?” He sighed. “Clara, don’t be so naive. If it’s not Sierra, it’ll be someone else…” I let my gaze drop, tuning him out. My eyes fell on the plush, custom-ordered rug, but my mind was already elsewhere, mentally packing a suitcase for a volunteer trip. That morning, I’d seen a recruitment notice for the Spring Blossom Foundation’s “Classroom Project.” On my way to another failed lawyer’s appointment, I’d submitted my application. I’d just received the email—I was accepted. If I couldn’t get a divorce here, maybe leaving was the next best thing. When the volunteer term was over, I could find a lawyer in another state. Seeing that I was no longer arguing, Aiden stopped his lecture. After a moment of silence, he tried again. “I can’t cut her off completely, but I promise she will stay out of the public eye. She will never threaten your position,” he said. “All my money is yours. Why get worked up over something as meaningless as feelings?” He reached for me, but I stepped aside. A frustrated hiss escaped his lips. “What more do you want? Look at the guys in my unit. Which one of them isn’t living like this?” I knew. Of course, I knew. The men he worked with were far worse. One of his buddies who got promoted at the same time now had a string of women on the side. But just because everyone else did it, did that mean we had to? Seeing the irritation etched on his face, I swallowed the words. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” The constant running around and hitting brick walls had left me emotionally and physically drained. I was asleep within fifteen minutes. When I woke again, the setting sun was bleeding across the horizon. My phone was lit up on the nightstand—a friend request from the Spring Blossom Foundation. I accepted, and a message came through almost immediately. [Ms. Evans, we’ll be meeting at the airport in one week to fly out as a group.] After confirming, they sent over a packet of documents and a list of things to prepare. It had been a long time since I’d dealt with this kind of paperwork, and it was a struggle, but for the first time in months, a feeling of lightness settled in my chest. It wasn’t until I saw Aiden at the base hospital a few days later that I understood why he’d been so scarce. He was with Sierra. They were walking into the OB/GYN clinic together. I glanced at my own appointment number on the screen. It would be a while. I found a seat a discreet distance away and watched. After some time, Sierra emerged from the exam room, her face glowing with a joy she couldn’t hide. A cold premonition washed over me. Sierra was pregnant. But Aiden… Aiden had a low sperm count. We’d been married for years without a child. If she was really pregnant, would Aiden finally agree to the divorce for the sake of his child? I stood up and walked toward them, no longer trying to hide. The thought of a potential divorce brought an involuntary smile to my face. But that smile froze on my lips. “Get rid of it.” I was only a few feet away when I heard Aiden’s voice, as cold and sharp as ice. Sierra clearly hadn’t expected it. The joy drained from her face, leaving it a ghostly white. She swayed on her feet. She looked at him with pleading eyes, but he remained unmoved, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features at her silent disobedience. “I will not acknowledge this child. And you will not have it,” he stated flatly. “I, Aiden Pierce, will not have an illegitimate child.” But Sierra seemed to misinterpret his meaning entirely. Her eyes landed on me. Without a second thought, she rushed over and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Mrs. Pierce, I know I’m shameless, I know I’m filth,” she cried, her hands clutching at my legs. “But please, I’m begging you, let me have this baby.” I couldn’t shake her off. I stood stiffly, afraid to move in case I fell, my eyes shooting daggers at Aiden. This is what you call not bothering me? “Mrs. Pierce, please, it’s a life,” she sobbed. “Please, I’m begging you.” A crowd was starting to form, their whispers filling the sterile hallway as they pieced together the drama unfolding before them. With every pointing finger and hushed comment, the blood drained from Aiden’s face, his expression growing darker by the second. And Sierra? Her shamelessness was breathtaking. Of the three of us, I was the only one drowning in humiliation. “Sierra.” Aiden’s voice was a blade of ice from behind me. The kneeling woman flinched. She turned her tear-streaked face to him, a desperate hope for pity in her eyes. Impossible, I thought. This was Aiden Pierce, the man who had clawed his way up from a grunt to a commander in the Special Forces. His heart was harder than anyone’s. But I was wrong. Aiden looked at Sierra, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something shift in his eyes. He let out an almost inaudible sigh before stepping forward and helping her to her feet. “Stop crying,” he said, his voice softer now. “We’ll talk about this back home.” He gently wiped her tears, his arm circling her shoulders to support her. Was this really Aiden? I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. By the time I snapped out of my stupor, they were gone. I was left standing alone in the hospital corridor like a fool, the murmurs of strangers ringing in my ears. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears back. What a waste. The whole spectacle had made me miss my appointment. I’d have to get back in line. It was nearly dark by the time I finished my own medical check-up and got home. I stepped inside but didn’t turn on the lights, standing in the entryway and letting my eyes adjust to the gloom. Every corner of this house was decorated to my taste, but now, it all just made me feel sick. Every surface was tainted with the memory of him. “You’re back?” Aiden’s voice came from the bedroom. He emerged a moment later, a glass of water in his hand. He offered it to me, a gesture that felt sickeningly familiar—the prelude to him asking for something. “Sierra won’t terminate the pregnancy,” he began, placing the glass on the table in front of me. He watched me, testing the waters. “I was thinking… we could let her have the baby, and you could raise it as our own.” I turned to look at him, and he flinched, his gaze darting away. As if realizing his own cowardice, he forced himself to meet my eyes again, his expression hardening into one of righteous justification. “The Fletchers did the same thing, didn’t they? The son who runs their company now was the one they brought home from the outside.” My heart sank into a black abyss. The Fletchers. They were the laughingstock of our entire circle. The illegitimate son was brought home, and he ended up driving the legitimate heir out of the family. Now, the wife and the mistress live under the same roof. I remembered the first time Aiden had told me about them, the disdain thick in his voice. And now, he had become the very thing he once despised. Perhaps my stare was too intense because he suddenly changed the subject. “What were you at the hospital for today? Are you feeling sick? Your physical last month came back completely normal.” … I lowered my eyes, ignoring his hollow concern. “Fine,” I said softly. The fake pleasantries stopped instantly. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Aiden, if Sierra wants to have that baby, let her.” His face broke into a wide, relieved grin. He’d completely forgotten to ask about my health. He’d completely forgotten that I had never said I would raise the child. He was the one who couldn’t have children, not me. With my “permission,” Aiden’s visits to Sierra’s apartment became more frequent and less discreet. Soon, the day to leave for the volunteer trip arrived. Aiden came home unexpectedly early that morning. When I got out of bed, he was already sitting in the living room, looking like he’d been there for hours. As I made breakfast in the kitchen, I heard him speak from behind me. “Clara.” “I just… have a bad feeling about something.” My hand, holding the knife, paused for a fraction of a second. I was silently grateful I’d moved my packed suitcase into the bedroom the night before. I hadn’t intentionally hidden the trip from him, but I didn’t want him to know either, fearing he’d create some new obstacle. I continued preparing the food, ignoring the unease in his voice. His soliloquy eventually died in the face of my silence. After breakfast, just as he was about to leave for the base, I called out to him. “Aiden, come back here after work today.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning back in surprise. I forced a small, unfamiliar smile. “There’s something I need to give you.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of pleasure in his eyes at my sudden initiative. But all I wanted was for him to be here to see the divorce papers I’d be leaving for him. By the time our plane landed at the Westbrook regional airport, my phone was long dead. The teaching site was in the most remote mountain area of the county. Most of the young adults had left for work in the cities, leaving only the elderly and children behind. After an afternoon of being jostled around on winding roads, the bus finally rumbled onto a smoother path. Chloe, the young woman who had first contacted me and was now our team’s logistics coordinator, was sitting next to me. “Clara, are you okay?” I managed a weak smile and a small shake of my head. I hadn’t realized how bad my motion sickness was. “We’re almost there. Just hang on.” As the road smoothed out, my nausea began to subside. I peeked through the curtain at the scenery outside, and a strange sense of familiarity washed over me. When we finally arrived at our destination, I knew why. We were only a few miles from Aiden’s hometown. The very next town over. I couldn’t believe the coincidence. Still, I wasn’t worried about running into anyone I knew. I had only stayed here for a month when we first got married. Aiden’s grandfather had insisted we hold the wedding on home turf. Our base housing in Riverton hadn’t been assigned yet, so we’d stayed in his old family home. “Clara, would you mind sharing a dorm room with me?” Chloe asked after she finished assigning the rooms. I nodded. “Of course.” After unpacking, with the unique chorus of country insects as a lullaby, I fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in months. The next day, I was up at dawn. Chloe was still asleep, so I tiptoed out to wash up. After a simple breakfast, I walked with the other teachers to the school. The four large characters above the school building made me stop in my tracks: The Pierce-Evans Project. It was from a lifetime ago. Back when Aiden had just been promoted to commander, he received his first significant bonus. His comrades used theirs to buy things for their families. Aiden used his to start this project. He said he wanted every child from his hometown to have the chance to get an education. But somewhere along the way, between our endless fights and growing distance, the project had been forgotten. Maybe that’s why I felt an instant connection to this place. I was filled with energy all day. When school let out, the gate was crowded with parents picking up their children. I stood to the side, observing. The area was poor, but the parents clearly valued education. Almost every child in the lower grades had someone waiting for them. The kids were bright and cheerful, waving goodbye enthusiastically even to us, the new teachers. As the crowd thinned, I prepared to head back. Suddenly, a booming voice called out from behind me. “You’re old man Pierce’s granddaughter-in-law, aren’t you?” “Old man Pierce’s granddaughter-in-law.” I hadn’t heard that title in a decade. I never thought I’d actually run into someone from his past here. I turned to see an elderly woman with white hair and neat clothes, likely one of Aiden’s grandfather’s old friends. I was about to deny it—who would know the difference out here?—but before I could speak, she let out a triumphant cry. “It is you! It really is old Pierce’s granddaughter-in-law!” Her shout drew the attention of everyone nearby. “City life must be good for you. It’s been over ten years, and you’re still as young and beautiful as ever,” she said, bustling over and grabbing my hand. “We have you and your husband to thank for this wonderful school.” …

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When tabloids exposed Marcus Sterling’s affair with a college student, I brushed it off. As his wife—the woman he pursued for seven years—I trusted him completely. Then, a pregnant girl showed up at our son’s birthday party, and I became the joke of New York’s elite. Marcus begged forgiveness, blaming alcohol and vowing to handle it. I believed him—until five years later, at a spa, I overheard a young woman in the next room complain about postpartum changes, then coo into the phone: “Marcus, if I hadn’t had your baby… I don’t want money—I want you to leave your wife!” My hand froze on the doorknob. By the time I regained composure, I was already filing for divorce. He wouldn’t need to leave me—I was already gone. … The moment I clicked “confirm,” my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Audrey,” he said, his voice casual, almost bored. “Something’s come up. I won’t be home tonight.” I touched my face, tracing the faint pinpricks from the countless injections I’d endured. All for him. Because he once said, “Audrey, a woman’s skin starts to go after thirty. I love the feel of an eighteen-year-old.” So I, a woman who wouldn’t even pierce her ears, subjected myself to needles to please him. And all the while, he had another child with another woman. “Okay,” I said. My calm reply seemed to catch him off guard. He was about to say something else, but I hung up. Then, I sent him a photo of the woman from the spa. Her name was Chloe. “See you at the courthouse,” I texted. Less than half an hour later, he was home. He didn’t look like he did the first time I caught him—there was no guilt in his eyes, no fear. He just calmly lit a cigarette. Then, he opened the door behind him. A small figure came running out. “Mommy!” I glared at Marcus, the words I wanted to scream caught in my throat. He grinned, a smug, infuriating look on his face as he swung our son, Leo, into the air. “Leo, what do you say we have a family fun day today?” “Yay! Fun day!” I knew what he was doing. He was using our son to threaten me. Just like five years ago, when Leo overheard us talking about divorce and had an epileptic seizure. He was convulsing on the floor, his little hand still clutching my clothes, gasping, “Mommy… don’t… divorce… Daddy… please…” The memory was like a knife in my heart. For my son, I had given in. But as we were about to leave, an unexpected guest arrived. Chloe, her eyes red-rimmed, was standing at our door, holding the hand of a little boy. Without a word, she dropped to her knees before me. “Audrey, please,” she begged. “Just give him back to me. It’s Ben’s birthday. He needs his father.” The little boy, Ben, burst into tears. “I want my daddy! I want my daddy!” Leo, whose hand was in mine, went rigid. The color drained from his face. I turned to look at Marcus. I saw a flicker of indecision in his eyes. My heart pounded. I reached for him. But in the next second, he took a definitive step to Chloe’s side. “I’m sorry, Audrey,” he said. “Not today. We’ll do it another time.” A roar filled my ears, and something inside me snapped. After that first humiliating scene five years ago, Leo had been mercilessly bullied at school. Kids would point at him, calling him a bastard, a boy with no father. The torment had driven him to the brink of suicide. I had found him on the ledge of our balcony, and it was only my own hysterical, desperate pleading that had brought him back down. Afterward, Marcus had sent me expensive jewelry and designer bags as an apology. But what good was money when all of New York knew the price my son and I had paid for it? “Marcus Sterling,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “if you walk out that door, my son and I are truly done with you.” He met my blazing eyes, and for a moment, I saw a flash of fear. But then Chloe grabbed Ben and darted toward the busy street. “What’s the point of living anyway!” she shrieked. “To be bullied like this? We might as well be dead!” Marcus’s face contorted in terror. He shoved me aside and sprinted into traffic after her. I fell backward, my head cracking against the stone steps. Blood streamed down my face, hot and sticky. Leo burst into tears, trying to press his little jacket against the wound. Then he turned and ran after his father. “Daddy, Mommy’s hurt! We have to take her to the hospital!” His small body was no match for Marcus, who was busy cradling Chloe in his arms, his face a mask of irritation. Suddenly, the other boy, Ben, started to cry. Chloe held up his arm, showing a faint red mark. “Why did you pinch him?” she screamed at Leo. “He’s just a child! What do you two want from us? If you want to hurt someone, hurt me!” She started slapping her own face, over and over. Marcus, seeing this, lost his mind. His hand flew out and connected with our son’s cheek with a sickening crack. “You’re just like your mother!” he snarled. “Completely spoiled!” He pulled out his phone. “The Garrison disciplinary camp? Yes, I have an unruly child for you. Come and get him. Immediately.” Leo crumpled to the ground, his hand on his swollen cheek, staring at his father as if in a trance. “It wasn’t me,” he whispered. “I didn’t pinch him…” My world dissolved into pain. I scrambled to my feet and threw myself in front of my son. “How dare you hit him! How dare you accuse him of something he didn’t do!” But Marcus only had eyes for Chloe and her son. He didn’t even glance at me. A van screeched to a halt beside us. It was from the camp—a notoriously brutal institution known for physical abuse, where a student had committed suicide just last year. My sweet, gentle boy did not deserve to be sent to a place like that. I spread my arms, shielding Leo. “Get away from him!” I screamed, feeling like a wild animal. “I’ll die before I let you take him!” Marcus’s gaze fell on the gash on my forehead, and for a second, his expression softened. But Chloe, with tears streaming down her face, pleaded, “Audrey, you’re only hurting him more! He’s misbehaving, and you’re stopping him from getting the discipline he needs!” That was all it took. Marcus’s resolve hardened. He grabbed me and threw me aside, letting the large, rough-looking men drag my son into the van. “Mommy! Mommy, save me!” Leo’s screams tore through me. He reached for me as I scrambled after the van, only to trip and fall hard onto the pavement. To the onlookers, I was the villain. They saw a man protecting a crying woman and her child from a screaming hysteric. They saw a mistress making a scene. Phones came out, recording my broken sobs. “Look at her, no shame. The other woman, and she’s the one crying.” “She’s psycho. Someone should call the cops and have her locked up.” … I sat there, numb, as their insults rained down on me. In the distance, Chloe was nestled against Marcus like a delicate bird, her eyes filled with contempt. Her lips formed a single, silent word. Pathetic. A flicker of pity crossed Marcus’s face, and he started to reach for me. But Chloe slumped against him. “Marcus,” she whimpered, “my head hurts.” He immediately turned his attention back to her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to his car. As they drove past, Chloe shot me a look of pure triumph. At this point, who even cared? I went home. I packed. I hired private security. All that was left was to rescue my son. But at midnight, Marcus, who I had assumed would be gone for the night, walked in. He was drunk. He grabbed my chin, his grip tight. “Audrey, what’s with the long face?” he slurred. “I’ll keep Chloe and Ben set up somewhere else. They’re not a threat to you. Why can’t you just compromise a little?” Compromise? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I had compromised five years ago. And where did it get me? He had a whole other family. On her social media, Chloe had just posted a picture of the three of them celebrating a birthday, their backs to the camera. Meanwhile, my son was trapped in that cold, cruel camp. Marcus’s hand moved to my cheek, his eyes still holding a familiar trace of desire. “Audrey, let’s have another baby. A daughter. Once you have both a son and a daughter, you won’t want to leave me.” He pushed me down onto the bed, his hot hand sliding up my thigh. I slapped him. Hard. He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you crazy?” I shoved him off me and threw the divorce papers I’d prepared onto the bed. “I want a divorce.” His parents had never thought I was good enough for him anyway. Now that he was a cheater, there was no reason to continue this sham. His face turned ugly. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he’d finally had enough of me. For the first time, he didn’t try to talk me out of it. “You’re sure?” “Positive.” His eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed a pen and signed his name with a vicious slash. “Audrey Sterling,” he growled, “don’t come crawling back to me.” I didn’t bother to reply. I just took the papers, grabbed my bags, and walked out the door. The next morning, I sent the security team into the camp. Ex-special forces are efficient. They had Leo in less than ten minutes. In just one day, he looked like he had been through hell. His eyes were vacant; he didn’t even call me ‘Mom.’ My heart shattered. I rushed him to the car, desperate to get him to a hospital. But as we pulled away, a black SUV cut us off. Marcus and Chloe got out. “Get out of the way!” I screamed. “I have to get Leo to a hospital! You—” Before I could finish, Chloe dropped to her knees, sobbing. “Audrey, please, give me back my son! I can’t live without Ben! I’m begging you!” She started slamming her forehead against the pavement. I stared at her, horrified. “What are you talking about? What does Ben’s disappearance have to do with me?” “Audrey!” Marcus roared. “You’re still lying? You hired men to break into a school! What else are you capable of?” I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. He was attacking me over his mistress’s child, without even noticing the state of his own son. Leo started trembling, his face growing paler by the second. I knew I couldn’t wait. I scooped him up and tried to get back in the car. But Marcus, his eyes dark with suspicion, snatched Leo from my arms. “I’m asking you one last time, Audrey,” he said, his face a mask of cold fury. “Where is Ben?” Tears streamed down my face as I saw how roughly he was holding our son. “I don’t have him!” I cried. “We’ve been together for ten years! Is this really what you think of me?”

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I was with Jax for ten years. But the day he decided to go straight, his crew was already calling someone else “boss lady.” Those hands, which had seen their share of blood and battles, were now gently tying the laces on a young girl’s canvas sneakers. “Sandy,” he told me, “she’s not like you.” “You can run wild with me, no questions asked, no title needed. She can’t.” I didn’t look back that day. What Jax never knew was that my family had been waiting for me to get this out of my system. They had a good man waiting in the wings the whole time, just waiting for me to give him a title of his own. 1 The day Jax decided to wash his hands of the life, he pulled me into bed and the world outside ceased to exist. I stared at the shredded lingerie on the floor, a tangled mess of black lace. For a moment, I was speechless. “Jax,” I finally managed, “is it the end of the world?” The raw, desperate way he’d taken me… it felt like there was no tomorrow. He was smoking his usual post-sex cigarette, his eyelids heavy, a haze of smoke blurring his features. “Sandy, if I were to… break it off with you,” he started, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. “You wouldn’t, like, lose your mind over it, would you?” He said it like a joke, but a chill ran down my spine. Ten years with Jax had taught me to read every nuance. He liked his women obedient on the surface, but with a core of rebellion he could play against. Just like now. I took the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers, pushed down the storm churning inside me, and raised a lazy eyebrow. “Jax, do you still think I’m eighteen?” If I were still that eighteen-year-old in canvas shoes, I would have demanded answers. I would have made him pay for leaving me, consequences be damned. But I’m twenty-eight now… A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t finish the thought. Jax just ruffled my hair and stubbed out the cigarette as it burned down to his knuckles. “Sandy, let’s end it here.” “And stop smoking. For fuck’s sake, stop treating your body like it’s disposable.” “We’re not kids anymore. We can’t keep living like this.” In that instant, I froze. A breakup at twenty-eight. The first one to cry loses everything. The smeared makeup, the raw vulnerability—it’s a complete defeat. I tried to act casual, reaching for my jacket on the floor, ready to leave. But Jax’s long arm snaked out and pulled me back into his arms. Outside, the clouds were a swirl of dark ink, pregnant with a coming storm. His lips traced a path down my spine as he expertly adjusted the strap of my dress. He nibbled on my earlobe, just like he always used to. “Heard me?” he whispered. I didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to mind. His tone was that of a man in absolute control, a king speaking to his subject. “It’s about to rain. Stay a little longer, hm?” Ten years can smooth over any conflict, creating a deceptive calm on the surface. Jax must have forgotten. My temper… it wasn’t just for show. If we were going to break, it had to be clean. I straightened my back, pushing his chiseled, handsome face away, and offered a small, cool smile. “How long is this storm going to last?” He had someone else in his heart now. How long did he think he could keep me here? A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he recovered quickly. When he introduced the other girl, his words were simple, brutal. “Sandy, you’re a smart woman.” “Her name is Ava. She’s not like you. You can be in the muck with me, without a title.” “She can’t. She’s too pure.” I swallowed hard. The wreckage of our night was all around us. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. What did he mean, I could be in the muck with him without a title? The black silk, the high heels, the slip dresses. For years, Jax had molded me into his perfect woman. Now that I’d finally perfected that sultry, dangerous look, he found it cheap? For a moment, I wanted to scream at him. But he put a finger to his lips, silencing me. It was a phone call. From the girl, Ava. “Jax? You said you were coming to pick me up…” her voice was a fragile whisper. “I’m all alone, and I’m scared…” 2 Jax left me for her. The roar of his engine echoed from the underground garage as a text message lit up my phone. [I’ll be out of town for a bit. Get your stuff out of the house.] [I’m having someone change the locks in two weeks.] I didn’t reply. I just moved through the villa I’d called home for five years, silently erasing every trace of myself. After a long while, my phone lit up again. Jax must have reached the terrified Ava by now. This was him, tying up the last loose end of our decade together. [Call me if you need anything.] [I can’t give you a title, but other than that, we can still be friends.] I had loved Jax for ten years. And in return, I got a casual dismissal. A friend. … The downpour lasted for two full days. The city was drowning, a damp chill seeping into my bones. I couldn’t sleep. I’d wake in the dead of night and flick a lighter open, just to see the small flame. The year I got with Jax, he was just a street hustler who couldn’t make rent, living in a damp basement apartment. In that humid air, the only light came from his lighter. Click. Click. The flame sparking, then dying. Jax, with his sharp buzz cut, had stared at me in my school uniform. “Think this through, Sandy.” “A guy like me, I’m not going anywhere.” “I can’t give you the future you want.” I was so damn naive back then. I took off my rain-soaked canvas shoes and tucked my ice-cold feet into the warmth of his chest, right against the thin fabric of his tank top. His body heat was like a torch, slowly setting me ablaze. There was only that single, flickering flame, but I stubbornly nodded. “Jax, I don’t want a future.” “I just want you.” We went through hell together. Nights filled with the smell of antiseptic and the rustle of bandages. Nights of desperate, clinging passion. Jax used to say that the day he finally went straight, the very first thing he would do was marry me. Now, he was going straight. And the first thing he did was cut me out of his life. I’m twenty-eight. I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t keep messing around. Besides, my family had a man waiting for me. Just waiting for me to give him a title. 3 I decided to leave the city. But first, I took the keys to the villa and went to Jax’s club. No makeup, no fancy dress. Just jeans and canvas sneakers. When I walked in, most of the guys didn’t even recognize me. It was only when I took off my cap that the crew—the same guys who used to eagerly call me “boss lady”—fell silent. They all knew about Jax and the new girl. The ones who were still loyal to me started trying to stir things up. “Sandy, for what it’s worth, we all think you and the boss are the perfect match.” “This new girl… she’s a lightweight. Can’t exactly show her off, can you?” “Why don’t you go talk to him? You know he always listens to—” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ten years with Jax. I had an innocent face, but with a slash of red lipstick and a bit of eyeliner, I could look deadly. Plenty of men had their eyes on me, but Jax was always there to protect me. Anyone who dared to touch a hair on my head ended up hauling sandbags in some godforsaken desert outpost. If I shed a single tear, Jax would drop everything to comfort me. That was a privilege once reserved only for me. But this time, the guys didn’t get to finish their sentence. A porcelain cup shattered against the wall, right next to one of their heads. Jax’s face was dark with fury. “Anyone listening would think Sandy runs this place.” “Is this how you watch my business when I’m gone?!” The sprawling room went dead silent. That was the power Jax commanded. Only now, that power was being used against me. I started to explain, to defend the guys, but the girl behind him peeked out, her tone deceptively innocent. “Jax, is this the Sandy you told me about?” “She’s dressed just like me!” Jax’s brow furrowed as he looked me up and down. Jeans, canvas sneakers. It was a mirror image of Ava’s style. He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes. “Sandy, did you look her up?” If you looked closely, Ava did look about five parts like I did at eighteen. Especially in this outfit. I saw right through the girl’s little game, but I refused to defend myself. Instead of me investigating Ava, wasn’t it more likely that someone had investigated Jax’s tastes? After ten years together, he couldn’t even trust me on this… I pressed my lips into a stubborn line. Jax let out a short, sharp laugh. A sneer. “No matter how much you dress the part, you’re not eighteen anymore.” “Sandy, what are you fighting me for?” I blinked, unable to believe what he’d just said. “How about this,” Jax said, licking his lips, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Ten years. Name your price.” I froze. I had been with Jax for ten years. I’d taken a bullet for him. I’d taken a knife for him. But nothing, not a single moment, had ever hurt more than this. My nails dug into my palms, my voice trembled. “Jax, what did you just say?” “I said, I wasted ten years of your youth.” “Name your price.” He stood there, hands in his pockets. Even as a storm of emotion raged in his eyes, he forced the words out. I felt like I was going to collapse. Ava tugged on his sleeve, whispering, “Jax, don’t be so mean.” “Sandy didn’t do anything wrong.” He looked down at her, his expression softening as he gently brushed his nose against hers. “It’s okay, baby. Be good.” He pushed her behind him. “I’m not going to let anyone bully you.” That’s how he used to protect me. I couldn’t watch. A bitter bile rose in my throat. I looked down and saw the silver bangle on my wrist. The year he gave it to me, it was a snug fit. But the deeper I fell in love with Jax, the looser it became.

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1. A nasty flu had me feeling like death warmed over, so I had to beg my gay best friend, Ben, to drive me to the clinic for a shot. I was expecting a simple IV drip, but the intern on duty insisted that if I wanted to get better fast, it had to be an intramuscular injection in the glute. To avoid missing any more work, I gritted my teeth and agreed. But after I lowered my pants, the intern suddenly rushed out of the room in a panic and dragged Ben inside. “Oh my God, sir! Your girlfriend has a syphilitic rash all over her backside! How can you be with someone who has a disease that… filthy?” A surge of white-hot anger shot through me. I demanded she apologize, but instead, the intern turned around and posted a TikTok. The caption read: “Forced by my superiors to apologize after exposing a patient’s promiscuous lifestyle, but I know I did the right thing! Sometimes you have to speak up! #MedStudentLife #DoingTheRightThing” … I yanked my pants up, my hands shaking with rage, and spun around to glare at the girl whose name tag read, “Zoe, Medical Intern.” “What the hell are you talking about?” My voice was sharp with fury, but Zoe seemed oblivious, her face a mask of wounded innocence. “I just don’t want this gentleman to be deceived by you!” she declared righteously, before casting a shy, adoring glance at Ben. “I can’t stand people like you, who use a pretty face to cheat good men!” The so-called “good man,” Ben, pointed a bewildered finger at his own nose. His expression screamed, “Me?” I followed Zoe’s gaze and saw the undisguised infatuation swirling in her eyes as she looked at Ben. In that instant, it all clicked into place. Ben was wearing a bespoke suit, a Patek Philippe gleaming on his wrist. Paired with a face that could rival any A-list actor, it was enough to send an impressionable young girl’s imagination into overdrive. There was just one tiny problem: Ben wasn’t straight. I let out a cold, humorless laugh, done wasting my breath on her. I raised my voice, calling out into the hallway. “Head nurse! Could I speak to whoever is in charge here, please?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the clinic’s low hum, drawing the attention of several nurses nearby. A moment later, a middle-aged man with a tag identifying him as “Dr. Matthews, Department Head” hurried in. “Ma’am, is there a problem?” I pointed a trembling finger at Zoe and recounted everything that had just happened, word for word. As I spoke, Dr. Matthews’s face grew darker and darker. Zoe, faced with her superior, was clearly losing her nerve. Her eyes darted around the room as she anxiously twisted the hem of her white coat. “I… I must have made a mistake. I was just so shocked that I…” she stammered, trying to defend herself. I cut her off, my gaze sweeping sharply between her and the doctor. “A mistake? You think a flippant ‘I made a mistake’ is enough to repair the damage you’ve done to my reputation and my health?” I paused, letting the tension build before dropping the bomb. “Fine. I will undergo a full panel of tests right here, right now, in your clinic. If they show that there is nothing wrong with me, then not only will I sue Ms. Zoe for personal defamation and emotional distress, but I will also sue this hospital for gross negligence and for enabling its staff to spread malicious lies.” The color drained from Dr. Matthews’s face, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He whirled on Zoe, his voice a low, furious hiss. “What are you still standing there for? Since when can you diagnose a patient with your eyes alone? Who do you think you are? Apologize to this lady. Now!” Under the immense pressure, Zoe’s face turned crimson. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to argue. But what she did next, no one saw coming. “Waaaaah!” She clapped her hands over her face and burst into loud, theatrical sobs. 2. Dr. Matthews looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Ben just stood there, a perfect picture of “Who am I? Where am I?” confusion. I crossed my arms, watching her performance with cold detachment. Zoe sobbed, peeking at Ben through the gaps in her fingers, but her words were directed at her boss. “I… I just didn’t want this gentleman to be kept in the dark! He’s such a good person, why should he be deceived by someone who plays games with people’s hearts!” Growing more agitated, she dropped her hands, her red-rimmed eyes locking onto mine. “You know exactly how wild your life is, don’t you? If you’re going to be dirty, then stay away from decent men!” She spoke with such conviction, as if she were some righteous crusader. But from the moment we walked in, Ben hadn’t said a single word. How had she determined he was a “decent man”? Pure fantasy? I was so angry I had to laugh. Taking a step toward her, I didn’t back down. “Fine. Let’s say I ‘corrupt’ people,” I said, playing along. Then my finger shot out, pointing at a still-baffled Ben. “Then you tell me, who deserves to be with him? Who wouldn’t be corrupting him?” Zoe’s eyes flickered away, a suspicious blush creeping up her cheeks. She stammered, unable to form a single word. The answer was obvious. “That’s enough!” Dr. Matthews had reached his limit. “Zoe, one more word of this nonsense and you’re fired!” I ignored him, pulled my phone from my pocket, and began dialing in front of everyone. “Hello, 911? I’d like to report a case of public slander…” “Ma’am! Ma’am, please don’t!” Seeing I was serious, Dr. Matthews nearly jumped out of his skin. He lunged forward and pressed down on my phone, his posture utterly deferential, his tone almost pleading. “Please, calm down. This is our hospital’s failure. I promise you, I will handle this to your complete satisfaction!” He spun back to Zoe, his eyes like daggers. “Zoe! Do you want a future in this hospital or not? Is your residency position not important to you? I am giving you one last chance. Apologize to this lady. Immediately!” The words “residency position” finally snapped Zoe back to reality. She bit her lip, trembling with resentment, and gave me a stiff, reluctant bow. “I’m… sor… ry…” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the venom in her eyes could have killed. Dr. Matthews delivered the sentence. “Zoe, you are suspended from your rotation, effective immediately. You will write a ten-thousand-word formal apology, and a hospital-wide disciplinary notice will be issued!” Already sick and now dealing with this mess, I couldn’t even be bothered to get the shot anymore. I just turned and walked out. Ben walked me to my car. Seeing how pale I was, he asked worriedly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” “I’m fine. Go on your date,” I said, waving him off. “Don’t keep him waiting.” Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, my head throbbing. I ordered some medicine and takeout on my phone. While waiting, I idly scrolled through local TikToks. Suddenly, a video popped up. On the screen, a girl in a white coat was crying her eyes out for the camera. It was Zoe. The text overlay was dripping with self-pity: 【I just tried to warn a patient’s family that his “girlfriend” might have a nasty disease, but my boss forced me to apologize and told me to mind my own business… What is wrong with this world? But I know I did the right thing. I’m still a good person!】 The comment section was a war zone. 【Don’t cry, you did nothing wrong! You’re too kind for this world!】 【Some women these days have zero morals, but god forbid you say anything about it.】 【That patient probably reported you because you hit a nerve! Hugs!】 My blood boiled. This woman, who was supposed to be suspended and reflecting on her actions, was actively fanning the flames in her comment section, describing me in vivid detail. 【The woman looked so sick and haggard, a total mess. I have no idea how she tricked a guy like him. He was so handsome and classy—they were like night and day!】 I burst out laughing from sheer disbelief. What a master of deception, this “good person.” Fueled by rage, I started typing in the comments: 【I’m the “patient” you’re talking about, and here’s what actually happened at the clinic today…】 I was halfway through typing out the whole sordid affair when my doorbell rang. My medicine and food had arrived. I put my phone down, forced myself to eat a few bites, and swallowed the pills. The medicine hit me hard, and soon I was dizzy, sinking into a deep, hazy sleep. 3. I slept like the dead. When I finally opened my eyes, the world outside my window was pitch black. The flu medicine had worn off, and my head finally felt clear again, not like the cotton-stuffed mess it had been. I reached for my phone to check the time, but the screen immediately lit up with a relentless barrage of calls from Ben. It was a full-blown emergency. “Hello?” My voice was still raspy. “Oh my god, finally! Get on TikTok, right now! It’s a complete disaster!” Ben sounded frantic. A knot of dread formed in my stomach as I opened the app. The flood of DMs and comment notifications instantly froze my phone, turning the screen into a stuttering slideshow. That’s when I realized it. In my medicated haze last night, I must have accidentally hit send on that half-finished comment. 【I’m the “patient” you’re talking about, and here’s what actually happened at the clinic today…】 Just that one, dangling sentence, hanging awkwardly in the comments of Zoe’s viral video. And right below it, Zoe had performed a stunning reversal. She replied to me, her tone no longer defiant but impossibly humble: 【I am so, so sorry, ma’am. I was wrong, I was truly wrong. I shouldn’t have been such a busybody, and I never should have posted about this online. I’m just an intern who has studied for five years to get this one chance. Please, I’m begging you, have mercy. Don’t file another complaint. I’ll never be so “righteous” again. I’m on my knees apologizing to you.】 Her “retreat to advance” tactic was flawless. My notifications had become a cesspool. 【Oh look, the main character has arrived. Why’d you stop typing? Feeling guilty?】 【“What actually happened is…” is what? That you screwed around and caught something nasty?】 【The poor intern is practically begging on her knees. What more do you want? Just because you got caught doesn’t mean you can be a bully!】 【Look at her, can’t even finish a sentence. She knows she was exposed. Serves her right.】 I was shaking with rage, my chest tight. These people, based on one manipulative video and a few crocodile-tear comments, had already convicted and sentenced me. I clicked on Zoe’s profile and saw that she had pinned her reply to the top, every word painting her as a poor, bullied intern who was forced to abandon her “righteous” quest by a powerful abuser. Fine. You want to settle this online? Let’s settle it online. With trembling hands, I opened my camera, ready to record a video explaining everything. But a cold, impersonal notification box popped up on my screen: 【Your account has been temporarily suspended due to multiple user reports of violating community guidelines.】 My vision went black for a second. When I came to, I immediately contacted customer support, only to be told it would take three business days for a review. Three business days? By then, this whole thing would be ancient history. And just then, as if on cue, a friend request popped up on my messaging app. The profile picture was Zoe’s tear-stained face. I accepted, and a message instantly came through. 【I really didn’t expect things to blow up like this online. I know I was wrong, and I’ve already asked for your forgiveness. But as a medical professional, I still have to advise you: a girl should take care of her body. It’s better not to have such a messy private life.】 Her condescending tone, as if she were some kind of savior. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. I was about to unleash a string of curses, but my fingers froze over the screen. What was the point of cursing her out? It would only give her more satisfaction. I deleted the long, angry paragraph I had typed and calmly replied with a few simple words. 【Are you at the hospital now?】 Zoe clearly hadn’t expected that. A few seconds later, a single “?” appeared. Seeing that question mark, a cold smile spread across my face. I ignored her and dialed Ben. “Ben, I need you to do something for me.”

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I bought myself a gorgeous urn. I excitedly imagined myself turning into ash and lying inside it. I couldn’t wait, so I swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Just as I was full of anticipation, ready to say goodbye to this world, a call from an unknown number interrupted me: “Is this Miss Lin? I want the urn you just bought. I need it urgently. Name your price.” I looked at the empty pill bottle and laughed in anger: “What a coincidence, are you dying today too?” “How about this? Whoever kicks the bucket first gets it?” “But I should be faster than you.” “If we die at the same time, mixing our ashes together works too.” Silence on the other end for a moment, then: “…Deal.” Chapter 1 Today is a good day to die. Before I go, I plan to treat myself. I never lived like a princess, so I might as well be extravagant in death, right? So I walked into a funeral home and picked out a super shiny, blinged-out urn. It was the complete opposite of my dull, gray life. The sales girl tapped her finger on the sample urn. “Full payment or installments?” Wow, insulting me even now. Who the hell buys an urn on installment? “Full payment,” I said firmly, slapping my credit card on the counter. “Sign the contract now.” The sales girl looked at me like I was crazy. The moment the card swiped, my phone buzzed. Caller ID: “Third Brother.” I rolled my eyes and picked up. Before he could speak, I cut in: “Not lending money, not giving gifts, not buying a house, don’t need insurance, won’t like, share, or comment on your posts…” He interrupted through gritted teeth: “Lin Yang, just… go die!” Then he hung up. I raised an eyebrow at the phone. Thanks for the invitation, already working on it. Walking out of the funeral home, I took a deep breath and pulled a bottle of sleeping pills from my bag. The doctor said the brain tumor pressing on my nerves would make the end excruciatingly painful. Better to… The phone rang again. Unknown number. Why does everyone want to interrupt my death?! “Hello?” I answered impatiently. The voice on the other end was confident: “Is this Miss Lin? I want the urn you just bought. I need it urgently. Name your price.” ??? I laughed in anger, chewing on the pills resentfully. “…Coincidence much? You dying today too?” …Silence on the other end for a moment. When he spoke again, he was suddenly polite: “Miss Lin, I’m Gu Yan. This urn is really important to me.” Gu Yan? The Gu Group heir who’s all over the financial news? I almost choked on the pills. “Is CEO Gu terminally ill too?” I looked at the empty bottle and explained, “This really isn’t about money.” I added fuel to the fire: “How about this? Whoever kicks the bucket first gets it?” Gu Yan’s tone suddenly turned smug: “Then it’s definitely me. I’m already cutting my wrists.” I wasn’t convinced: “Impossible. I should be faster. I just took the pills. If you want to beat me, you better hurry up.” “Where are you?” Gu Yan’s voice suddenly tightened. I thought I heard a kitchen knife drop. “I’ll send someone over right now.” He’s in a rush? Where did this sudden competitive spirit come from? “Don’t waste your energy.” “I’ve been unlucky since I was a kid. Suicide is the one thing I’ll definitely be faster at…” Before I could finish, a sharp pain exploded in my temples. Before losing consciousness completely, I used my last bit of strength to call my mom, planning to say goodbye. The moment it connected, everything went black. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was a handsome, angular face. “Awake? I’m Gu Yan.” I blinked. “I’m not dead?” “Stomach pumped.” He handed me a cup of water. “Doctor said you swallowed over three hundred pills. Almost died from overeating.” My phone vibrated. I glanced at a voice message from my third brother in the family group chat. I played it on speaker. His furious voice echoed through the ward: “Lin Yang, are you done yet? Ningning is getting married tomorrow, and you pick now to pull this stunt?” Gu Yan raised an eyebrow slightly. I replied calmly. [Yangyang Not Late: Yes.] As soon as I sent it, the system notification popped up: “Dad left the group chat.” A moment later: “Mom left the group chat,” “Second Brother left the group chat,” “Eldest Brother left the group chat.” …I stared silently at the (1) behind the group name. “Brilliant.” Gu Yan suddenly started clapping. “More exciting than our board meetings.” Chapter 2 I finally took a good look at this legendary financial tycoon. He was young and handsome, just unnaturally pale. He pulled a document from his briefcase: “About the urn…” “No deal,” I said firmly. “That’s the last bit of dignity I’m giving myself.” “One hundred million,” he said lightly. “Deal!” Before I could speak, someone answered for me. The ward door burst open, and my mother rushed in, smelling of perfume. Her eyes landed on Gu Yan, and her face changed instantly: “Gu… CEO Gu? Why are you here?” Gu Yan stood up calmly: “I came to visit my fiancée.” My mother and I widened our eyes simultaneously. Mother pointed at me, stuttering. “Fi… fiancée?” “Her?” I pointed at myself, trembling: Me? Gu Yan kept a straight face: “Yes. We both liked the same urn and plan to mix our ashes together after we die in a couple of days.” I almost choked on my own spit. The day after my stomach was pumped, I was lying in bed studying my brain CT scan. I looked up to see Gu Yan standing at the door with a fruit basket. He had swapped his suit for casual wear, looking much more approachable—if you ignored the three suited bodyguards behind him. “CEO Gu.” I pointed at the fruit basket. “Are you visiting a patient or making an offering?” Gu Yan put the basket on the nightstand: “Heard you like strawberries.” I froze. …I’m allergic to strawberries. The door slammed open. Third Brother, Lu Zichen, stormed in smelling of alcohol, followed by my parents and—Lu Ningning in her wedding dress. “Lin Yang!” Third Brother ripped the IV tube from my hand. “You f*cking—” His roar cut off abruptly as Gu Yan’s bodyguards pinned him against the wall. The room went dead silent. I looked down at the blood beading on my hand and suddenly found it hilarious. This is my family. Even when I’m dying, they have to yell at me first. Mother reacted first, pointing a trembling finger at the CT scan: “Is this true?” Father snatched the medical record, flipping through it loudly: “Impossible! Last week she was still—” Third Brother broke free from the bodyguards, grabbed my CT scan, and smashed it against the wall, voice shaking: “How can this be? Lin Yang, you’re lying about this now?!” “Zichen!” Father shouted, then turned to me, voice suddenly terrifyingly gentle, “Yangyang, Dad knows a brain specialist. We’ll transfer you, right now…” I shrank back. “No need. I’ve already hired the best medical experts from the Gu Group for her.” Everyone’s eyes shot to Gu Yan. He stood calmly by my bed, like a dutiful fiancé: “After all, Lin Yang is my responsibility now.” Third Brother froze, then sneered, “Buddy, who are you?” Gu Yan slowly pulled a photo from his jacket pocket and held it up to Third Brother: “Recognize this?” In the photo, a tiny me and a tiny Gu Yan stood in an amusement park. I was holding cotton candy, and he looked disgusted while wiping sugar off my face. The whole family was stunned. Including me. My family was “escorted” out of the ward. The last to leave was Lu Ningning. She looked back at me, lips trembling, saying something I couldn’t hear. After the door closed, I collapsed on the bed. “When… when did this happen?” I stammered. “Last night.” “Tech department stayed up all night photoshopping it,” Gu Yan said with a shrug. I stared wide-eyed: “You… why?” Gu Yan took an apple from the basket and started peeling it: “Just didn’t like what I saw.” I took the apple and took a bite: “So what’s your illness?” Gu Yan paused: “Who said I was sick?” “If you’re not sick, why buy an urn?” “Collecting.” I almost choked on the apple: “CEO Gu, unique hobby you got there?” Gu Yan sighed, suddenly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a small scar on his chest: “Heart surgery last year.” I stared at the scar: “So…?” “So I’m half dead too,” he said casually. “Sharing an urn with you isn’t a bad deal.” My nose suddenly tingled, and I quickly looked down to gnaw on the apple to hide it. “By the way.” Gu Yan pulled a black card from his pocket and placed it on the pillow. “Medical expenses.” I stared at the card and laughed: “CEO Gu, is this you being my sugar daddy?” “Consider it an investment,” he said calmly. “I’m betting on your design talent.” “What design talent?” “Designing the urn.” He pointed to a folder. “My condition is, leave a QR code. Scanning it shows our photo.” I burst out laughing: “And then what? ‘Congratulations, you’ve scanned a pair of doomed lovebirds’?” Gu Yan actually nodded: “Could work.” We both laughed together. Chapter 3 Gu Yan’s heart condition was serious. How serious? Let’s put it this way. My death was a countdown; Gu Yan’s death could happen any second. “Mahjong! Full flush, kong on the river!” I pushed my tiles down. A wail erupted from the nurses in the ward. “Miss Lin! This is the ICU, not a casino!” the head nurse yelled. Gu Yan calmly pulled out a black card: “Damage compensation.” Gu Yan’s bodyguards were shaking with suppressed laughter. One accidentally knocked over the IV stand, pulling off Gu Yan’s ECG leads. “Beep—” The heart monitor flatlined instantly. “CEO Gu!” The bodyguards panicked. I didn’t even look up as I shuffled the tiles: “Don’t panic. He pulled this trick yesterday to skip rounds.” Gu Yan slowly reconnected the leads, and the heartbeat curve returned. He winked at me: “Fast learner.” The sight of the head nurse fleeing made me laugh until my IV tube shook. “Again?” he asked. I looked at the clock: “One more round, then radiation therapy.” “Coming back after?” “Yeah. I can play while on the drip. Just hang the bottle on the mahjong table leg.” Gu Yan laughed, and he looked kind of good doing it. Suddenly his face changed, and he clutched his chest and collapsed. “Gu Yan?!” On the third day after Gu Yan’s heart attack, I invented a new therapy—using mahjong tiles to spell out ECG patterns. “Look, sinus rhythm.” Professor Zhang, Gu Yan’s doctor, stood at the door, dropping his clipboard: “Miss Lin, do you know where the psychiatric department is?” “Yep,” I said without looking up. “Borrowed a deck of cards from their rec room last week to play ‘Guess Who Dies First’ with Gu Yan.” Professor Zhang looked like he’d seen a ghost. Gu Yan smiled weakly: “Professor, she’s just… expressing concern in a special way.” “Special?” Professor Zhang pointed at the abstract art on the wall made of CT scans. “She turned your MRI into Starry Night!” I puffed out my chest proudly: “Van Gogh would be proud!” Professor Zhang stormed off. Gu Yan looked at the ceiling and suddenly said: “When I was a kid, my hospital room was never this lively.” I stopped arranging tiles: “Why?” “Sick kids in the Gu family are weaknesses,” he said lightly. “The board questions your eligibility to inherit.” I imagined little Gu Yan lying in a hospital bed surrounded by suits pointing fingers, and suddenly got angry: “Damn it! I’ll go paint your headquarters Hello Kitty right now!” Gu Yan laughed until he coughed: “I’d be disowned.” “Even better,” I handed him an oxygen mask. “Be my henchman. I’ll treat you to spicy food and good drinks.” “With your savings?” He raised an eyebrow. “You maxed out your credit card for an urn.” “Hey!” I threw a pillow at him. “Who are you looking down on? I’m at least—” The door opened. Lu Ningning stood there with a fruit basket, eyes red like a rabbit: “Sis… can I come in?” My face fell instantly: “Wrong room. Your sister is in obstetrics.” Lu Ningning’s tears fell. “I… I came to apologize.” She rushed over and knelt: “Sis! I really know I was wrong! I peeked at your diary and found out what you went through all those years…” My blood ran cold. Chapter 4 That diary from when I was fifteen recorded every unbearable memory from the seven years I was trafficked. And the reason I was kidnapped was to protect my sister. All these years, I thought no one but me remembered. Lu Ningning tremblingly pulled out a stack of papers: “I… I found everyone you mentioned… the orphanage worker has been arrested, and that…” I snatched the papers. On top was a police report receipt. Dated the day I was diagnosed. “Why?” My throat was dry. “Don’t you hate me most?” Lu Ningning cried, makeup running: “How could I hate you? I just wanted your attention, but you always…” Gu Yan suddenly sat up: “Lin Yang, you look pale.” Of course I was. Memories I deliberately buried came crashing back—the worker’s belt, fighting dogs for food, the dark storage room… These bloody wounds never disappeared. They were reefs hidden under the skin, aching in every moment I felt unloved. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Everyone out.” Lu Ningning wanted to say more but was dragged out by Gu Yan’s bodyguards. After the room quieted, I realized I was clutching the papers tightly. “Want to talk?” Gu Yan asked softly. “About what? How I was abused for seven years? How I was locked in a cage like livestock to be picked? How I was sold three times?” My smile was uglier than crying. “Or how I came back to find this family never accepted me?” Gu Yan listened quietly, then said: “I was kidnapped when I was ten.” I looked up sharply. “My uncle hired them,” he said calmly, like telling someone else’s story. “They locked me in a basement, one cup of water a day, to force my dad to sign over shares.” My throat tightened: “Then?” “Then I escaped, went straight to the shareholder meeting.” He twitched his lips. “Appeared in the conference room covered in blood, exposed my uncle right there.” “So your heart…” “Root of the problem from back then,” he glossed over it. “My point is, pain doesn’t need comparison. Your pain isn’t less important just because mine was worse.” “And some scars look like defects, but who says they can’t be art from another angle?” My nose stung, and I looked down, pretending to organize papers: “CEO Gu, your chicken soup is a bit salty.” Gu Yan smiled and pulled a folder from the nightstand: “Speaking of which, I have a proposal.” Inside was a “Patient Alliance Special Action Plan,” detailing how to use our remaining time: Establish the Brat Foundation, treating unreliable parents. Teach every kid in the hospital to weave bracelets from IV tubes. Perform death metal at the Gu Group annual meeting. Send a box of screaming chickens to everyone who bullied us. Family Crematorium (Total destruction of toxic family). “This…” I flipped through the plan. “When did you make this?” “While you were snoring last night.” He handed me a pen. “Sign?” The plan was like a light suddenly turning on. I realized living doesn’t have to be waiting for death. It can be blowing up years of grievances into fireworks before the finish line. I signed my name with a flourish: “Happy cooperation, partner.” Gu Yan picked up the call button: “Nurse, we need two glasses of champagne.” “Alcohol is prohibited!” the head nurse roared over the speaker. “Then two bottles of saline,” I added. “Vintage ’82.”

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The childhood best friend who took care of me for thirteen years… In the fourteenth year, he called me a r*tard and a psycho. On my birthday, he dumped me at a bus stop and left with the new transfer student. I have autism. I hid behind the bus stop sign until late at night. His dad dragged him over to apologize, but he wasn’t having it. “I don’t owe her anything! She’s autistic! If I hadn’t taught her how to speak word by word, she wouldn’t even be functioning like a human!” “I’ve been her nanny for thirteen years. I don’t want to take care of her anymore!” Suddenly, floating comments (danmu) appeared before my eyes: [The male lead is jealous!] [His twin brother pretended to be him and hung out with the heroine all day. She didn’t notice and kept calling him ‘Brother Liam.’ Our jealous puppy was so mad he dug his nails into his palms.] [The heroine is born without empathy. The male lead is using this method to make her understand his feelings.] I froze. So it was his brother that day… Then, is it okay if he keeps pretending? 1 As soon as the school bell rang, I walked over to Liam’s desk. The new girl, Sarah, was standing next to him. Seeing me approach, she nudged him with her elbow. “Your little wifey is here.” Liam was correcting Sarah’s test paper. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t move. I called him: “Brother Liam, home.” Liam didn’t even lift his head. “Go back by yourself. I’m going to the library with Sarah.” I froze. Sarah explained, “It’s for the final sprint before exams. You probably don’t need it.” Autism makes it hard to adapt to change. In my understanding, going home with Liam after school is a fixed rule. Him telling me to go back alone left me at a loss. So I grabbed his hand. “Brother Liam, home.” I said it three times. Liam ignored me. Seeing me tugging at Liam, Sarah suddenly burst out laughing. “She’s like an NPC.” She tilted her chin at Liam. “Didn’t you say Ava listens to you?” Liam’s face changed. He suddenly shook me off with force. Affected by the sudden aggression, I screamed uncontrollably. The whole class looked over. Sarah hid behind Liam. “Whoa, is she crazy?” Liam dragged me out. He was furious. As we walked, he said, “You’re just a psycho who doesn’t know good from bad! Why act like you can’t live without me? You don’t need to study, but I do, okay?” I didn’t quite understand. I asked him, “So are we going home?” He had already dragged me to the bus stop. He sneered. “No!” He left me there and walked back. “Take the 362 home yourself!” 2 My hearing is sensitive. The noise of traffic and strangers affects me greatly. Without someone beside me, I didn’t dare move. I squatted behind the bus stop sign, covering my ears. Liam and Sarah walked past me. I called him, but he walked faster. Bus after bus drove by. I hid behind the sign until night fell. I don’t know how much time passed before Mom drove over and found me. Seeing me curled up in the dark, she hugged me with red eyes. She gave me my medicine, called Liam’s dad, and then took me home. There were many people at home, some I knew, some I didn’t. Mom helped me change into a beautiful princess dress, led me into the crowd, and asked me to cut the cake. Oh. Today is my eighteenth birthday. I didn’t cut it. I promised Brother Liam he would get the first piece of my birthday cake. I ran to the balcony to wait for him. The wind on the balcony was a bit strong, making my eyes sting. I craned my neck to look outside. My neck was sore by the time I saw Liam’s dad dragging Liam from the roadside. Half of Liam’s face was swollen. Uncle Miller scolded Liam, “How could you leave Ava at the bus stop! She’s never taken a bus alone!” Liam retorted, “Is she stupid? Can’t she swipe a card and get off at the stop? What could happen?” Uncle Miller slapped him on the back of the head. “What if she got lost? What if she got hit by a car? Can you handle the consequences if something happened to her?” Mom said if I see someone getting hit, I should stop it. Just as I was about to speak, I saw Liam shake off his dad’s hand and yell. “Why should I bear the consequences? It’s you guys who owe her family! I don’t owe her anything! She’s autistic! If I hadn’t taught her to speak word by word, she wouldn’t even be human! I’ve been her nanny for thirteen years, what more do you want?” I froze, belatedly clutching my chest. It seemed to hurt a little. Uncle Miller pointed at Liam. “You, you…” He stammered for a long time but couldn’t get the words out. Finally, he sighed, “But she only recognizes you…” Liam said resentfully, “No!” He continued, “I don’t want to take care of her anymore. I want freedom! Anyone can take care of her from now on, just don’t drag me into it!” Mom told me to observe and listen more, saying it helps me understand emotions and meanings. But they jabbered a lot, and all I understood was that Liam didn’t want to talk to me anymore. It was getting hard to breathe. A row of bullet comments (danmu) suddenly popped up above Liam’s head, scrolling from right to left. [Male lead is jealous!] [His twin brother replaced him and played with the heroine all day. She didn’t realize and kept calling him Brother Liam. Our jealous puppy was so mad he dug his nails into his palms.] [The heroine is born without empathy. The male lead is using this method to make her understand his feelings.] Male lead? Heroine? What does that mean? Liam turned to leave. Uncle Miller shouted at his back, “What about Ava’s birthday party?” Liam didn’t look back. “Can’t she not tell the difference? Let Lucas go!” The comments scrolled faster. [Heroine, don’t give up on the male lead! He hasn’t gone far. Just call him and cry, and he’ll come back immediately.] [He made you a necklace! He even planned when to kiss you!] [Anyone can be a heroine these days? Mute, blind, and now an emotionless autistic girl! The devoted male lead has it tough!] [Little autistic girl, if you don’t realize it soon, your Brother Liam won’t want you anymore!] … Don’t want me anymore? Liam’s back was disappearing. Panic seized me. I wanted to chase him downstairs, but suddenly saw a car stop at my gate. Someone got out. He stood up straight, revealing a face that was a carbon copy of Liam’s. He met my gaze and smiled at me gently. I stopped. My breathing… Seemed to return to normal. 3 I have autism. I couldn’t speak until I was five. I have all the typical characteristics. No eye contact, no communication, no socializing, no empathy, weak emotions. Luckily, my parents are rich. After discovering these traits, they took me to see countless experts. They decided to build an inclusive kindergarten for me, accepting kids who couldn’t afford tuition, asking teachers to guide them to play with me, hoping I would learn to speak through daily interaction with peers. That’s where I met Liam. We first met outside the kindergarten. I chased a little girl out and snatched her lollipop. The girl cried. Her grandma scolded me in words I didn’t understand and pinched my arm. While I lay on the ground screaming, he walked by with his small backpack. He asked the grandma what happened. After understanding, he went to the convenience store next door, bought a lollipop, gave it to the girl, and apologized for me. The grandma left with the girl. Liam wanted to take me back. I didn’t move, pointing at the convenience store. Liam patted his pockets. After a while, he said, “Call me brother, and I’ll buy it for you.” I called him. And got what I wanted. He helped me, and made me speak. My parents reciprocated, showering Liam’s parents with gifts, quickly becoming friends. Not long after, Liam’s parents sent him to my house. When they arrived at the door, I was counting the railings on the balcony. I heard the conversation between Liam and Uncle Miller. “Why me? Clearly…” “Ava has autism. She needs a playmate by her side 24/7. She needs you.” “But I need you guys too!” “We owe them untold amounts for your brother’s illness. We have to repay the favor. Besides, the house is crowded now. Don’t worry, they will treat you very well.” Uncle Miller wasn’t wrong. My parents treated him very well. The room prepared for him was right next to mine. He got everything I got—new clothes, new toys. He even had a card. My parents said our allowance was managed by him. But Liam still cried the first night. I followed the sound and curiously touched the water flowing from his eyes. “I don’t like you,” he told me. “You’re just like my brother, a burden.” How could there be so much water in his eyes? I kept wiping, wiping, endlessly wiping. He finally hugged me back. My parents didn’t actually ask much of Liam, but he was stubborn. He said he wanted to make me useful. He made me call him Brother Liam. He would hold my hand all the time, teaching me when to say hello, when to say no, when to say sorry and thank you. He even acted like a tutor, assigning me tasks and giving rewards. I don’t know if my parents’ investment of money and manpower paid off, or if a couple of my wires finally connected, but under his help, I improved rapidly those years, becoming closer and closer to a normal person. And I became more and more dependent on him. My parents had connections. Liam and I were in the same class for kindergarten, elementary, and middle school. High school was a bit harder, so my parents donated a building to achieve the goal. In freshman year, I got my period in class. Because I was scared, I threw myself onto Liam. Liam pushed me away and ran to the school store to buy pads. The stain soiled my pants and his. After that day, Liam suddenly moved out of my house and went back to live with his family. I wasn’t used to it and threw a tantrum. He kept a straight face, ears red, and said, “We should keep a distance.” “No.” “Didn’t you hear what the classmates are saying?” I heard. They said I was his little wife. But I didn’t care. “Brother Liam, come home. I want to be with Brother Liam.” He looked at me with a complex expression. “Do you really want to be with…” Then he shook his head. “Forget it, you wouldn’t understand…” I don’t know what decision Liam made privately, but he suddenly changed. He managed me more and more, stricter and stricter, with more specific demands, as if trying to turn me into someone else. My mom clearly told me I could just study casually, but he insisted on my grades. He wanted me to go to A University with him. Seeing me score only two or three hundred points each time, he would get angry. He was anxious, and his anxiety infected me. I started getting irritable. Once, pushed to the edge, I threw a pencil case at him. He apologized, but didn’t change. “I know you’re tired, but if you want to be with me, you have to do these things.” My medication dosage increased. He didn’t care. If I didn’t listen, he would ignore me. I was terrified of him ignoring me. It caused physiological panic and shortness of breath. He was part of two-thirds of my life. All the rules I knew were related to him. I couldn’t imagine life without him. So I bowed my head to him again and again, until the transfer student Sarah appeared. Sarah was lively and jumpy, a huge variable in my stable relationship with Liam. She said she wanted to be friends with us and offered to help me study. But I couldn’t understand her notes. She always talked to Liam, making him laugh. She even took the reward stickers Liam bought for me. I pushed her down. Liam yelled at me for the first time. He sternly demanded I apologize to her. He was obsessed with correcting my behavior, not caring about my reasons. He yelled until I cried. I apologized because I listened to Liam. But to make amends, he gave my breakfast to Sarah. He bought water for Sarah in P.E. class. He was supposed to tutor me, but tutored Sarah instead. He even told Sarah about my autism. Sarah mocked me in the classroom. “Heard that getting you to say a sentence earns a thousand dollar reward. I talked to you so much, do you owe me tens of thousands?” “Liam says you’re obedient if given candy. Here, candy for you. Meow like a kitten for big sister?” I didn’t quite understand why she said these things, but I recognized the malice in her eyes. I threw the candy at her. Liam wanted me to apologize again. I refused. “If you don’t apologize, I won’t take you to the amusement park this weekend.” He kept a straight face. “You can’t hit people for any reason. An aggressive autistic person won’t have friends. I hope you remember this.” He didn’t seem wrong. But why did my chest feel so tight? Mom said if someone hits or scolds me, I can hit back. I yelled, “I don’t want her as a friend!” Liam roared, “Ava!” I turned and ran. I didn’t want to bow my head anymore. Mom found out about this when I got home, but she still took me to the amusement park. The sky was blue, and the balloons at the gate were pretty. I stared at the fountain in a daze. “Liam” arrived. Mom told me to call him Brother Liam. He agreed and accompanied me into the park. “Are you not angry anymore?” “Why would I be angry?” “I hit someone.” “You had a reason, right? Were you bullied?” I nodded. “Peaceful resolution is best, of course, but if not, just protect yourself…” He smiled. “I’ll handle the apologies.” He seemed a bit different. Very gentle, spoke slowly, walked slowly. Whatever I did, he looked at me with a smile. When I got my hands dirty eating cotton candy, he didn’t lecture me, just wiped my hands and praised me for eating well. I vaguely saw another identical face when I looked back once that day, but his face was livid. But “Brother Liam” was right beside me, so I didn’t mind. Turns out the one beside me that day was his brother, Lucas. 4 “Ava! Your Brother Liam is here! Come cut the cake!” Mom called me. I saw Lucas standing next to the cake with Mom, smiling at me. He wore a nice suit that made his waist look slim and legs long. The star pattern on the fabric matched his eyes perfectly. I ran down the stairs, slipped somehow, and flew forward. Lucas reached out to catch me, and I knocked him and the cake onto the floor together. Under everyone’s gaze, my eighteen-layer cake turned into a pile of smashed dough on the floor. Lucas landed on his back, and I fell on his chest. He hissed in pain but didn’t forget to shield my head with his hand, saving me from being smashed by cream. This scene happened so suddenly that the room went silent. “Ava! Apologize!” Liam’s angry face suddenly drilled into my mind. It was like a conditioned reflex. I panicked, scrambled up, hunched my shoulders, and hid behind Mom. Mom helped Lucas up. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” Lucas shook his head, then smiled at me. “Did it hurt, Ava?” I turned a deaf ear, staring at the shapeless cream on him, murmuring, “The first piece of cake was for Brother Liam.” Lucas realized. He bent down, picked up a piece of cake from the floor, and put it in his mouth right in front of me. “Thanks, Ava,” he smiled. “It’s delicious.” I stared at him blankly, unable to understand my emotions for a moment.

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