Category: English

I have never tasted my wife’s cooking. Not once. We’ve been married for five years. Every morning, she wakes up an hour early to bustle around the kitchen. The sounds are methodical, rhythmic—the crack of an egg, the hum of the toaster, the precise chopping of fruit. The aromas drift into the bedroom, filling the air with the scent of caramelized onions, fresh coffee, and searing meat. I asked her once, early on, “Could you make a plate for me, too?” She didn’t even turn around. “Don’t you have a cafeteria at work?” I never asked again. Until one day, I found a bento box in her car. It was empty. Stuck to the lid was a neon-yellow Post-it note. The handwriting was jagged, masculine, sprawling: “The chicken today was insane. Craving those roasted short ribs tomorrow ~” That wasn’t my handwriting. 1. I stared at that sticky note for a long time. “Craving those braised short ribs tomorrow.” The tone was playful, demanding. Like a spoiled child who knows exactly how to get what they want. I flipped the note over. On the back, in the same scrawl: “Meredith is the best!” Meredith. My wife. I placed the container back exactly where I found it and closed the car door. That night, I didn’t say a word. Meredith came home a little later than usual, carrying a grocery bag heavy with premium cuts of meat. Short ribs. “I’m making braised short ribs tomorrow,” she announced, kicking off her heels. “Who for?” I asked, keeping my voice level. “A colleague,” she said, not meeting my eyes as she headed for the kitchen. “There’s a boy at the office, poor health. Immune system issues or something. I’m just helping out.” “Just helping out?” “Mmhmm.” She pulled the cooking wine and pepper salt from the pantry, moving with a practiced efficiency I didn’t recognize. She began to marinate the ribs. Her movements were fluid, almost artistic. I stood in the doorway, watching her back. Five years. In five years, I had never seen her treat a piece of meat with such tenderness. “What do you want?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “What?” “For dinner,” she said. “Should I order something?” I paused. The absurdity of it hit me, and I let out a dry, short laugh. “Whatever. You decide.” “That Thai place again? The basil chicken?” “Sure.” She tapped her phone screen, ordering the takeout. On the stove, the ribs were marinating, filling the kitchen with a rich, savory promise. On her phone, the delivery tracker read: Estimated arrival: 30 minutes. This was our marriage. She cooked; she ate. She ordered out; I ate. I don’t know how long I had been blind to this, but from that moment on, I started paying attention. The next morning, she was up at 5:30 AM. I feigned sleep, listening to the symphony of her affection in the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping, the sizzle of the pan, the soft beep of the microwave. At 6:15, she slipped out the door, quiet as a ghost. I waited five minutes, then got up. The kitchen counters were wiped spotless. The ribs were gone from the fridge. In the trash can: eggshells, onion skins, and an empty bottle of premium sauce. I opened the cabinet where we kept the spare Tupperware—a wedding gift from her mother that I thought we’d never touched. One was missing. I put it together. That bento box left the house every morning at 6:15 and returned before 8:00 PM. It carried meals cooked with my wife’s own hands. It went to a “sickly” male colleague. I called my best friend, Davis. “I need a background check,” I said. “Guy at Meredith’s firm. Male. Supposedly has health issues.” Davis was silent on the other end for a few seconds. “You found out?” “Found out what?” “…Nothing,” he said quickly. “I’ll handle it.” By evening, my phone pinged with a file. Silas Vane. 28 years old. Meredith’s college classmate. They had dated in university. The “one who got away.” The tortured artist type. Three years ago, Silas was hired at Meredith’s company. Same department. The photo attached showed a man who looked like he was made of glass—pale skin, messy hair, thin frame. He looked like a strong wind would shatter him. I zoomed in on the photo. Then I found his social media. His bio read: “Lucky enough to have a personal chef.” Posted two days ago. I scrolled through his feed. It was a culinary diary. Chicken drumsticks, roasted ribs, ham salad, cream corn soup, wild mushroom risotto. Every single meal was presented in the bento box I had seen in the car. I scrolled back. One year. Two years. Three years. Three years. My wife had been cooking for him for three years. And I had been eating takeout for three years. I lowered the phone. My hand was trembling. Not from anger. From the cold. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water down my spine, the chill settling deep in my bones. That night, Meredith came home early. “You’re back early,” I said. “Yeah, just wanted to spend some time with you.” She walked over, reaching out to hug me. I sidestepped her. “I need a shower,” I said. Standing under the spray, the hot water did nothing to thaw the ice inside me. I started to replay the last five years. Did she ever cook for me? Yes. The first year. Maybe a handful of times. Then it stopped. I had asked her why. She said, “You’re not picky. You’re easy to feed.” I believed her. I thought she was just lazy about cooking. I thought she didn’t enjoy it. I thought— I thought I knew her. I knew nothing. 2. The next day, I took the afternoon off. I went to Meredith’s office building. I didn’t go to her floor. I went straight to Administration. The receptionist, a young girl named Sarah, knew me. I’d dropped off forgotten keys and umbrellas enough times. “Guru? What are you doing here?” “I need a favor, Sarah,” I said. “Silas Vane. He works in Meredith’s department.” “Silas?” She blinked. “The guy in Meredith’s team?” “Yeah.” “Is… is everything okay?” “Just need to check something.” She looked around, then lowered her voice. “Guru, I really shouldn’t, but… honestly, take a look.” She turned her monitor toward me. Silas Vane’s employment file. Start date: Three years and four months ago. Referred by: Meredith Hayes. I let out a sharp breath. “Referred by.” “Guru…” “What else?” She bit her lip and opened another folder. “Attendance logs.” I scanned them. He punched in and out like clockwork. But one data point stood out. Lunch Breaks (M/W/F): Off-campus. “What does this mean?” “We have a subsidized cafeteria,” Sarah explained. “If you eat there, it logs on your badge. He doesn’t eat here Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” “Where does he eat?” “I don’t know. But…” She pulled up a screenshot. It was from an internal company chat group. A female colleague had posted: “Meredith brought another bento for Silas today. It smells amazing.” The replies underneath: “So jealous.” “Meredith is literally a saint.” “Silas must have saved the galaxy in a past life.” Date: 18 months ago. I stared at the words until they blurred. “Guru?” “I’m fine,” I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “Thanks, Sarah.” “Don’t do anything rash, okay?” “I’m not rash.” “But—” “I just need to understand.” I walked out of the building and stood on the curb. Three years and four months. Meredith and I had been married five years. That meant Silas came into the picture when we were barely two years into our marriage. Back then, I thought we were in the honeymoon phase. I thought we were solid. I pulled out my phone and texted Davis: “You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” He replied instantly: “Do you want to see him?” “Yes.” “Friday noon. The small park behind the office complex. He eats the lunch there every Friday.” I stared at the screen. I typed out a response: “No. I need to see her give it to him.” Davis sent a thumbs-up emoji. Then: “Guru, I’ll come with you.” “No need.” “You shouldn’t be al—” “I can handle it.” I hung up and looked at the sky. It was a brilliant, blinding blue. A memory surfaced. Last month. I had a fever of 102. Shivering, teeth chattering, unable to leave the bed. I called Meredith. I told her I was sick. She said: “Just take some Tylenol and sleep it off. I have to work late. I’ll be home when I can.” She did come home late. Eleven o’clock. The next morning, she was up at 5:30 AM as usual to make the bento. I asked her, “What were you working on so late?” She said, “Just catching up on project timelines.” Now I knew. The overtime was real. The timelines were real. But it wasn’t work. It was the timeline for simmering bone broth for Silas. I checked my phone records. That night, at 11:00 PM, she had made a call to Silas Vane. Duration: 27 minutes. And the call to me? The one where she told me to “sleep it off”? 15 seconds. 3. Friday noon. I went to the park behind the office tower. I found a bench in the shadows of an oak tree and waited. At 12:10, Meredith appeared. She was carrying an insulated lunch bag, walking with purpose. I watched her pass right in front of me. She didn’t even see me. Her eyes were fixed on a destination about fifty yards away. There was a bench there. A man was sitting on it. Messy hair, white button-down shirt, looking like a gust of wind would knock him over. Silas. Meredith walked up and sat next to him. She unzipped the bag and pulled out the bento box. “I made the roasted ribbs you like,” she said. I was close enough to hear them. The air was still. “You make the best ribbs,” Silas said, taking the fork with a smile that looked practiced. “And here’s the cream corn soup. Be careful, it’s hot.” She unscrewed a thermos cap and handed it to him. “Meredith,” Silas said suddenly. “Does your husband know?” My heart skipped a beat. Meredith hesitated, then shook her head. “He doesn’t know.” “How long do you plan to hide this?” “It’s not hiding…” Meredith sighed. “We’ve been married five years. The feeling… it’s just gone.” Silas looked down, picking at a piece of rib. “Then why don’t you divorce him?” “It’s not the right time.” “When is the right time?” Meredith was silent for a moment. “When your health is better. When the project is done…” “When, when, when.” Silas put down his fork. “Meredith, I’ve been waiting for you for three years.”

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After the divorce from Anastasia Stacey, the only option left was a quiet kind of downgrade. I married a woman who spoke little, wore faded, thrift-store T-shirts, and always had her hair pulled back into a hasty, messy knot. She’d haggle over every fifty cents at the grocery store. My old friends, the ones who still spoke to me, would look at my life and make condescending jokes: “Your lifestyle took a hit, Cal, but did your taste have to as well?” I just laughed it off. “I told them how I’d smashed Paul Hayes’s laptop into his head in front of the entire Stacey Capital board,” I’d say. “Anastasia sacrificed me to save him. The fallout was nuclear. I was an untouchable after that.” “When I got out of prison, the shame was a physical thing. Dogs would cross the street to avoid me. I was lucky anyone would have me.” As I spoke, my hand moved with practiced precision, filleting a fresh halibut. I bagged it for the customer and called out to the next person in line. “Fresh catch, ma’am. Take your pick.” The person froze, and then a shaky, unmistakable voice whispered, “Cal… you did all this… just to hurt me? To punish me for sending you away?” 1 I didn’t look up. My dulling fillet knife slammed down on the wood block, scattering scales and blood-tinged water onto the tiled floor. Anastasia Stacey stood there. She was wearing a perfectly tailored, unbothered cream suit that looked wildly out of place next to the stench of the fish market. She stared at my hands. They were raw, chapped, covered in shallow cuts and the winter frostbite. Those hands used to type memos and sign multi-million dollar contracts; now they were coarse and stiff, like dry driftwood. “If you’re not buying, move along. There’s a line behind you.” I wiped my hands on the front of my apron and reached for the next customer’s basket—an elderly man named Mr. Rodriguez. Being ignored seemed to be the worst insult. Anastasia’s composure cracked. She stepped forward and, in a flash of manic impulse, swiped my knife off the counter. It clattered on the concrete floor, bouncing twice. “Calvin Brooks, the youngest executive in Stacey Capital history, a Finance grad from Stanford, is gutting fish?” She practically yelled the last part, her voice a mix of disbelief and tightly coiled rage. It drew the eyes of the surrounding vendors and the morning shoppers. “Do you think this is going to make me feel sorry for you? Do you think I’ll regret testifying against you?” Her eyes were overflowing with the kind of high-society pity that felt worse than contempt. She clearly believed I was performing, trying to use my own degradation to manipulate her. I bent down and picked up the knife, rubbing it against my rough canvas apron. “Ma’am.” I kept my voice flat. “That knife cost me thirty dollars. You’ve chipped the blade. You owe me.” I looked at her, then turned to Mr. Rodriguez. “And I don’t know you.” Anastasia was stunned. She was prepared for a fight, for tears, for an apology—but not for a petty demand for thirty dollars. The crowd began to buzz. “Who is that woman? Dressed like she’s on a magazine cover, coming here to hassle a decent man.” “Looks like an old flame. She’s probably here to gloat now that he’s down on his luck.” “He works hard. She needs to mind her own business.” The whispers drilled into Anastasia’s ears. Her face cycled through shades of white and pink. Her assistant, standing awkwardly behind her, made a move to intervene, but she waved him away. She fixed her stare on me, trying to find some trace of the adoration I used to have for her. There was nothing left. Only a profound, dead emptiness. “Stop playing dumb, Cal.” She ground out the words, lowering her voice to a furious hiss. “Your father would spin in his grave if he saw you like this. Your hands were meant to sign documents, not scoop out guts! If you needed money, why didn’t you go to a proper firm? With your background…” She paused, a sharp, cold smile forming on her perfect lips. “Oh, I forgot.” “You have a felony record. I made sure of that.” “So, what is this? A spiteful act of revenge?” The familiar, self-righteous arrogance returned to her face. I ignored her. I turned back to the tank, netted a fresh red snapper, and brought it to the block. I pressed down, the knife moving expertly. Fish blood sprayed out, splattering directly onto the hem of her designer skirt. Anastasia flinched back, a look of visceral disgust crossing her face. I packaged the fish without a word, handing the bag to Mr. Rodriguez. “That’s twenty-five, sir. The QR code is on the wall.” I never looked at her. That blank dismissal was the only weapon I had left. She pulled out a crisp, white linen handkerchief, her hand hovering as if to wipe the specks of blood from my face. I tilted my head away. The handkerchief froze in mid-air. “Ma’am.” I pointed to the wall. “The knife was thirty. Loss of business is twenty. Total, fifty dollars.” “Pay up and stop wasting my time.” 2 Anastasia’s hand dropped. She crumpled the pristine handkerchief in her tight fist. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to contain her fury. “Money? Is that all you want?” She sneered, pulling out her checkbook and quickly scrawling a number. Then she pulled a thick wad of cash from her wallet. Splat. She tossed it all—the check and the cash—onto the blood-and-guts-covered counter. “Shut down your stand,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. “Come have lunch with me and let’s talk. This is enough for you to sell fish here for a year.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. The stack of bills was easily three or four thousand dollars—a fortune to the market workers. Anastasia stood tall, waiting for me to break down in humiliated rage and throw the money back at her. The old Cal would have. He couldn’t stand being insulted. I looked at the wet, blood-stained bills. I didn’t hesitate. I snatched the damp pile of cash, weighed it in my palm, and stuffed it into my tattered, sewn-up leather waist pouch. “Thank you, boss.” I gave her a curt nod, devoid of any shame. “Anything else? Need me to scale or gut another one?” Anastasia’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Cal… are you serious?” Her voice trembled, her pointing finger shaking. “Have you no dignity left?” “You once froze me out for three days because I didn’t get you a limited edition watch. And now, for this petty cash, you’ll drop all your pride?” I pulled off my fish-stained apron. Underneath, I was wearing a faded, cheap T-shirt with a stretched-out collar. “Dignity, how much does that cost a pound?” I countered, grabbing a nearby hose to rinse the grime off my worn boots. “Let’s go. You wanted lunch, right? But first, a warning: I won’t get past the host stand at any of your high-end places. I don’t meet the dress code.” Anastasia was speechless. She just scowled and followed me. I led her out the back, through the narrow, reeking alleyway behind the market. It was the access point to the run-down walk-up where I lived. The ground was slick with sewage and rotting produce. The air hung heavy with a mildewed stench. Anastasia picked her way along, terrified of ruining her expensive leather heels. “Walk two blocks in these shoes, and you’ll understand why I love cash,” I said, not looking back. At the alley mouth, our landlady, Dolores, was blocking the path, cracking sunflower seeds. Seeing me, she spat out the shells immediately. “Hey, Cal! That power bill from last month? Pay up or I’m shutting off your unit!” “Just opened shop, Dolores. Right now.” I offered a conciliatory smile and pulled out a few of the bills Anastasia had just given me. I handed them over without counting. Dolores’s face instantly softened. “Oh, look at you, hitting the jackpot! Alright, alright. I’ll give you a few more days.” A little further down, Mr. Rodriguez, the junk collector, was pushing his overloaded cart, its wheel jammed in a pothole. I didn’t hesitate; I ran over and helped him heave it free. Afterward, I didn’t forget to haggle. “Mr. Rodriguez, you stiffed me fifty cents on that last batch of cardboard. Gotta square up today.” Anastasia stood watching, her face growing paler, her expression tightening with every transaction. She watched me scrape for pennies, nod humbly to my landlady, and navigate this suffocating, lower-class world with utter familiarity. The stark reality of it was like a series of hard slaps to her face. Finally, she broke. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. “Stop it!” she hissed. “Cal, stop the act.” “I don’t believe you can live like this. Move out. I’ll find you an apartment. I’ll get you a job.” She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. “I’m transferring you a million dollars.” “Just promise me I never have to see you embarrass yourself in a place like this again.” She was desperately trying to use her wealth to wash away her own guilt, or perhaps just to buy back her peace of mind—to prove that she hadn’t completely destroyed me. I stood still, letting her work. A few seconds passed. Ding. It wasn’t the successful transfer notification. It was a failure message. Anastasia frowned, confused. “What? Bad service?” She tried again. Failure. The system notification flashed: Recipient account frozen due to ‘judgment debtor’ status. Restriction on high-value transactions. Anastasia’s hand froze mid-air. She slowly looked up at me. I met her gaze, a sharp, bitter smile twisting my lips. “Mrs. Stacey, you forget so easily.” “Three years ago, to force my hand, you personally filed the motion to freeze all my assets and blacklist my credit.” “It seems the system you built is still standing.” Anastasia’s face went white. She opened her mouth to argue, but no sound came out. The very tool she had used to break me was now the wall preventing her “charity.” The irony was delicious. A deep engine rumble cut through the alley’s noise. A black Maybach pulled up, ridiculously conspicuous. The door opened. A polished, custom-made leather shoe stepped out. I looked at the car and spoke to Anastasia, my tone completely neutral. “Your husband is here.” “Aren’t you going to greet him?” 3 Paul Hayes emerged from the car, immaculate in a bespoke Armani suit. A limited-edition Patek Philippe glinted on his wrist—the very one Anastasia had purchased at auction last month as an anniversary gift. He pulled off his sunglasses, his eyes darting between Anastasia and me. Then, he pasted a warm, sympathetic smile onto his face and rushed over. “Ana, darling, what are you doing in a place like this?” He slipped an arm around her waist, clinging to her possessively, while his eyes cut me like razor wire. “Ugh, what an awful smell!” He clapped a hand over his nose and dramatically backed up, fanning the air with his free hand. “This stench is sickening. Let’s get you out of here, Ana.” He grimaced, the disgust entirely unfeigned. Anastasia’s body stiffened, but she didn’t push him away. She only looked at me with that same complex, unreadable expression. Paul, seeing my silence, moved closer, feigning sudden recognition. “Oh my God, is that Cal?” He covered his mouth in mock shock. “How could you… how did it come to this?” He extended a hand, as if to pat my shoulder, but stopped short, clearly afraid of contaminating himself. “Cal, I know you were distraught when you smashed my work laptop and nearly cost me my career…” He touched his immaculate new laptop bag, his eyes instantly welling up. “But I forgave you a long time ago. You weren’t in a stable place. Seeing you like this… it truly breaks my heart.” He looked on the verge of tears. Anastasia, whose face had been etched with a flicker of regret, hardened instantly. The memory of the violence erased any nascent pity. “Hey, Cal, how much for this fish?” Paul suddenly changed tack, pointing to the bag in my hand. “Since we ran into you, I have to support your business, right?” He reached out to take the bag from me. I didn’t let go. “Mr. Hayes, your hands are too precious to touch garbage.” I tried to lower the bag to the ground. Paul, however, made a sudden, exaggerated grab for it. “Oh, don’t be shy, buddy!” In that moment, whoosh. The bag turned over. The water, along with the dead fish, spilled out, soaking me completely. My already filthy T-shirt was now drenched and clinging to my chest. “Oops! I am so sorry, so clumsy!” Paul yelped, leaping back to avoid the spill. “This fish is so slippery!” As he cried out, his eyes were glued to Anastasia’s reaction. Seeing her scowl, he instantly changed his tone. He pointed at the fish on the ground and shouted: “Cal, is this fish spoiled? The smell is rank! Are you selling rotten fish to people? What if someone gets sick? And I heard that, you know, being in prison, you can sometimes pick up…” He trailed off, but the implication was clear. The surrounding neighbors and shoppers, who were already enjoying the spectacle, leaned in closer. “What disease? Is it contagious?” “Selling bad fish is terrible. I won’t buy from him again.” The tide of public opinion instantly turned against me. For a street vendor, a bad reputation is a death sentence. I stood there, letting the dirty water drip from my hair. My face was expressionless. Instead of lunging at him like I had three years ago, I simply bent down and scooped the fish back into the bag. Then I stood up, looking Paul straight in the eye. “Mr. Hayes.” My voice was quiet, but every word cut through the noise. “My fish were delivered this morning. The people on this block have been eating them for six months without issue.” I glanced pointedly at his slick, over-gelled hair. “The only way this fish is dead is if it was poisoned by the hair gel dripping off your expensive head.” A wave of laughter rippled through the onlookers. Paul’s face turned the color of raw liver. “You!” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Cal is honest. He never cheats anyone,” Dolores chimed in, chewing loudly on her seeds. “Right,” Mr. Rodriguez agreed, pushing his cart closer. “He’s a good man. You rich folks should stop bullying him.” The public tide instantly swung back. The working-class crowd disliked Paul’s pompous cruelty far more than my supposed crime. Paul turned to Anastasia for backup. “Ana, look at him…” Anastasia looked at me, soaking wet but standing ramrod straight. A look of sheer, miserable irritation flashed in her eyes. She clearly found the entire scene mortifying. “Enough!” she snarled, yanking her arm out of Paul’s grasp. “Haven’t you made enough of a scene?” 4 After snapping at Paul, Anastasia turned her attention back to me. Her brow was deeply furrowed, her gaze a high-handed judgment. “Cal, if you’d been half this level-headed three years ago, you wouldn’t have gone to prison.” Her tone was filled with a patronizing disappointment. “If you hadn’t been so impulsive, so violent, we wouldn’t have ended up here. This is all your fault.” I felt a sudden, cold wave of laughter rise in my chest. Three years ago, at the shareholder meeting, Paul had leaned in and whispered to me, “Your parents’ car crash was karma. They were in Anastasia’s way.” Then he’d added, “She’s been mine all along. She tells me that every time she’s in my bed.” I’d lost control. I’d grabbed the first thing I saw—a laptop—and thrown it. Anastasia only saw the assault. She didn’t listen to a single word of my explanation. To protect Paul and for the sake of what she called “integrity,” she’d handed the evidence to the police herself. And now, she was standing here, lecturing me on self-control? “Mrs. Stacey is right,” I conceded, wiping the water from my face. My voice was hoarse. “I deserved it.” “I was blind.” Anastasia’s face darkened. “What is that supposed to mean?” She pulled another stack of bills—maybe six hundred dollars—from her wallet and, adding it to the damp pile on the counter, pushed it all toward me. “Paul was childish and ruined your work space. Take this, go buy some clean clothes.” “Don’t make a spectacle of yourself here. Go home.” Paul, though chastised, smirked, seeing his wife use money to shame me. He assumed a man like me would gratefully pocket the cash. After all, what is pride worth when you’re worried about the rent? I looked down at the money, then up at Anastasia’s self-satisfied expression. I reached into my patched-up pouch and took out the cash she had given me earlier—the blood-stained, wet bills. I grabbed the new stack, balled it all up, and threw it with force straight at her chest. Thwack. Anastasia was stunned. Paul was stunned. “I don’t want it,” I said, looking her dead in the eye, each word heavy and deliberate. “Your money is filthy.” “Take your dirty cash and get out of my sight.” Anastasia exploded. She had never been treated with such contempt, especially not by the man who had once worshiped her. “Calvin!” She shrieked, the veins in her neck bulging. “Stop this pathetic performance! What do you have now besides the stench of fish?” “Your life is ruined! Who else in the world would even look at you now, except me?” Paul seized the opportunity, his voice dripping with malice. “Now, Ana, don’t upset yourself. Cal’s current situation is truly regrettable.” He looked me up and down with vicious contempt. “He can’t even hold down a proper job, let alone get married and start a family.” “I mean, I hear men who’ve spent time inside… their bodies, you know…” He paused, letting the rumor hang in the air. “Who would risk marrying him? He’ll probably die alone and childless.” My hands clenched into fists, my fingernails digging crescents into my palms. I was about to break. Just before the explosion, a rush of tiny footsteps echoed in the alleyway. A small figure burst through, crashing right into my legs. A boy, maybe two or three years old, wearing a clean but faded little tank top. He wrapped his arms tightly around my thigh, looked up, and called out in a clear, happy voice: “Daddy!”

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For six months of marriage, my husband Julian Thorne and I were respectful guests to each other. But I was faking it. Every day, I plotted my escape. Until the day I was fully prepared, I walked in on him questioning thin air: “My wife loves me so much, how could she be faking it?” I pretended nothing happened and postponed my plan. But that night, Julian became wild and rough, pinning me down and bullying me endlessly. “Wife, you’ll stay by my side forever, right?” 1 At 7:00 AM, Julian Thorne woke up on time. He wasn’t a morning person. As usual, he hugged me and snoozed for another two minutes before getting out of bed. After washing up, he would go to the home gym for an hour of boxing. 8:30 AM was his breakfast time. But today was strange. It was 8:40, and Julian hadn’t come downstairs yet. I went to the bedroom to find him and discovered him in the walk-in closet. His collar was turned up, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He was frowning at some empty spot in the air, questioning coldly: “My wife loves me so much, how could she be faking it?” I stopped at the door, subconsciously taking half a step back. Julian suddenly turned his head, his eyes sharp and chilling like a honed blade. But in a second, he reverted to the gentle demeanor I was familiar with. He smiled at me and called out somewhat pitifully: “Wife, can you help me tie my tie?” I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, pretending nothing happened, and walked over briskly. Skillfully tying a Windsor knot for him, I stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips: “Why the delay today? Breakfast is getting cold.” Before I could withdraw my hand, he grabbed it. Without warning, Julian cupped the back of my neck and kissed me hard. Forced to endure it, I tilted my head back, retreating step by step, my breathing chaotic, lips and tongue slightly numb. Until my back hit the wall, his calloused hand slipped under my shirt, roaming urgently. I shrank back, pushing against his chest with both hands. “Julian!” The air stilled for a moment. Julian withdrew his hand but still pressed against me, his heavy breathing brushing past my ear. I pushed him gently, reminding him softly: “You have an important shareholder meeting this morning, did you forget?” Julian looked at me without a word, desire and irritability swirling in his eyes. Since our marriage, he hadn’t been this close to losing control for a long time. Suppressing my wild thoughts, I curved my lips slightly, looking at Julian with eyes full of tenderness. After a long time, he raised his hand to embrace me, slowly pressing me into his arms. Resting his chin on my shoulder, his voice revealed attachment and unease: “Wife, you truly love me, right?” I raised my hand, hesitated for a moment, then put it down. “Mm.” 2 Julian left without breakfast, looking listless. I watched his car drive out of the villa gate. Then I turned and jogged back to the bedroom. I dug out the divorce agreement I had prepared for a long time. Just as I was about to tear it up, a cold electronic voice sounded in my head: [Host, you don’t have much time left.] I paused. Staring blankly at the tear on the divorce agreement. [System, do you think Julian will agree to a divorce?] [Yes, he always listens to you, doesn’t he?] I scoffed. [Always? Haven’t you seen him point a gun at me?] Five years ago, I transmigrated into this mission world. The System told me to conquer Julian Thorne. An illegitimate son used as a tool by his family. The Thorne family held immense power, dabbling in both legitimate and shady businesses. The clean businesses were handed to the eldest son, Adrian Thorne, while the grey industries were dumped on Julian. They pushed Julian into the mud, letting him rot, just to cultivate Adrian, the pristine, gentle, orthodox heir. All the danger, responsibility, and filth were shouldered by Julian. When I met Julian, he had already become a mad dog everyone avoided. I approached him carefully, had guns pointed at me, and was pushed away countless times. Finally, it took nearly five years for him to willingly bury his ruthlessness deep in his bones, becoming the gentle, always-smiling Julian Thorne he is today. The day he broke free from the Thorne family, he proposed to me. I thought this was the final step to max out his affection points, so I agreed. That night, I passed out from Julian’s torment. I woke up thinking I had left the mission world. But the next second, I saw Julian’s face. And the next second, the damn System told me I conquered the wrong target. The real target was my childhood friend, Adrian Thorne. I had eight months left. I had seen the fate of those who betrayed Julian. So I could only obey him on the surface while secretly plotting. I pretended to have a low sex drive for three days, but on the fourth night, I broke down and begged for mercy. I went back to live with my parents for a few days, and when I returned, I tactfully expressed that my parents disapproved of this marriage. As a result, Julian sent them abroad for retirement on a private jet. They were only brought back after we got our marriage license. Thus, my situation worsened. I started faking chest pains, telling Julian I didn’t have long to live, urging him to find someone else soon. As a result, he brought in a medical team to give me a full body checkup. I resigned from Julian’s company. Before leaving, I hired many younger, prettier girls, tacitly allowing them to approach Julian, while I secretly prepared the divorce agreement. However, more than six months passed, and apart from when he was with me, Julian was like an ascetic monk. This divorce agreement never found a chance to be presented. But this morning, Julian’s behavior was truly abnormal. [System, do you think he sensed my intentions?] [So what? I need to remind you, you have less than two months left.] [Then do you think if I propose a divorce directly, he’ll agree?] After two seconds of silence, the System said: [Just run away. Adrian returns in three days. Contact him to pick you up.] I found it absurd. [Reason? Why would Adrian want anything to do with a married woman?] [You and he are childhood sweethearts with over ten years of emotional foundation. You can tell him Julian abuses you, that you regret it, are in pain, and need his help.] Even more absurd. I smiled bitterly: [But Julian treats me very well.] The kind who would give me the moon if I asked for the stars. [Then wait for death.] The System replied coldly. […] After a long silence, I put the crumpled divorce agreement back in the drawer. [I’ll contact Adrian.] 3 At 10:00 PM, Julian still hadn’t come home. He hadn’t called me either. He never came home later than eight before. I couldn’t help but overthink. [System, do you think Julian had an acci…] [He’s right in your garage,] the System interrupted me, [He’s been there for two hours.] [Is he… alone?] [What else?] [Oh.] [Are you happy? You haven’t really fallen in love with him, have you?] [No… no, you’re overthinking.] The cold System huffed and went silent. I turned off the light, ready to sleep. Half an hour later, the bedroom door opened, footsteps approached. Julian went straight to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, the mattress dipped slightly. Julian lay down and pulled me directly into his arms. “You’ve been drinking… mm…” Julian rolled over and pressed on me, kissing fiercely and heavily. My pajama buttons were torn open in an instant. My legs were pinned, unable to move. “Julian…” “Wife, I missed you.” Julian was urgent, as if holding back anger, not holding back at all. I gradually couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to push against his hip bone: “What’s wrong with you tonight… didn’t we just… last night…” Julian pinned my hands above my head, ignoring everything. Until I whimpered, he suddenly stopped. I called him softly. The hand gripping my waist gradually loosened, his arm wrapping around my back, turning into a hug. Julian’s body was trembling slightly, along with his hot breath. I slowly raised my hand, touching his sweat-dampened face: “Julian, what exactly is wrong, can you tell me?” After a long stare, Julian spoke in a hoarse voice: “Wife, do you want to divorce me?” My heart skipped a beat. I looked away, flipping my hand to wipe his sweat: “No.” In the silence, the gloom in Julian’s eyes melted away bit by bit. He caught my hand, interlacing our fingers. “Wife, you’ll stay by my side forever, right?” I forced a smile: “Right.” Julian stopped talking, his hand slowly stroking my brow, my eyes, then my hair. His dark eyes were like a bottomless cold pool. I couldn’t help but push him: “Can you… be gentler?” Julian seemed not to feel it, cupping my face and kissing down without explanation. Became gentle. More torturous. Julian whispered in my ear: “Wife, I love you.” “…I know.” The next morning at ten, Julian had already gone to the office. Not long after I woke up, a message popped up on my phone. [Wife, does what you said last night still count?] After hesitating for half a minute, I replied: [It counts.] After clicking send, I suddenly thought of something. I immediately got out of bed and ran to the vanity. The moment I opened the third drawer, my blood ran cold. The divorce agreement was gone. 4 I went downstairs absentmindedly. The housekeeper reheated breakfast for me and mentioned that the plate of red bean cakes was made by Julian personally. I inexplicably wanted to laugh. The first gift I ever gave Julian was red bean cakes I made myself. [System, Julian knows I planned to divorce him, but he seems… to have chosen to give me another chance.] [So what? Don’t tell me you choose to stay by his side and wait for death.] My hand holding the red bean cake paused, and I pursed my lips: […I didn’t think that, just… I feel it’s hard to make a move now. Julian seems to be able to read my mind.] The System sighed: [He’s cheating.] [Huh?] [This was originally a novel world. Maybe… you know about things like ‘bullet screen comments’?] [I know. What… did Julian see?] The System sighed again: [Let me show you one: “Your wife doesn’t love you at all, you’re about to become a wild man nobody wants~”] […] I rubbed my forehead: [Can’t we stop those people from posting comments?] [Can’t. They are esteemed VIPs. My reach isn’t that long.] […Then I’m screwed? Everything I do is like a live broadcast…] [Cheer up. Severe spoilers are automatically blocked by the backend.] [Like what?] [Like you running away. And, I will help you.] [How?] [I can act as a communication simulator to help you send messages, avoiding your phone being monitored by Julian and leaking information.] I took a bite of the red bean cake, chewing slowly. Julian made it much better than I did. Soft and sweet, sweet to the heart. [System, please send a message to Adrian. Just say… when he returns, I want to see him.] [Jenny (original name: Jiang Ningyi)! What can these few words accomplish?] The System’s tone was full of disappointment. I poked the red bean cake, feeling guilty: [Let’s test his attitude first. If it really doesn’t work… I’ll think of another way.]

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My crush of several years finally confessed his feelings to me. A week later, I found out it was all because he lost a game of Truth or Dare. He had to date me for a month to win. When I read that text message, I was holding the clothes I had hand-washed for him, feeling like an absolute idiot. Because he said the washing machine “didn’t get them clean enough.” 1 “Let’s break up.” I typed those three words into the text box, but before I could hit send, Caleb Hunt called me. I hesitated, then answered. His voice was lazy on the other end. “Mia, are the clothes done?” I went silent. Me, the girl who could debate the opposition into the ground during mock trials, was suddenly speechless. “Hello? Hello?” Caleb sounded impatient. “Maybe she’s busy,” a sickly-sweet voice chimed in. It was Lilly Porter. The freshman girl who was always hovering around Caleb. And the one who had “accidentally” let me know about the bet. I took a deep breath and said calmly, “They’re done. I’m bringing them down now.” Maybe my tone was too cold, because he paused for a second before saying, “Fine. See you downstairs.” Then he hung up. I stared at our chat interface. The background was a candid photo I took of him looking out a window years ago. I only dared to set it as my background after we started dating. Right now, I wished desperately that Lilly was just trying to stir up trouble. No, I couldn’t trust her completely. I closed my eyes and calmed myself down. No matter what, I had to confirm it myself. 2 “You washed them?” Caleb snatched the bag from my hand, glanced inside carelessly, then looked at me and frowned. “No makeup? You look exhausted.” His tone was disdainful, his brow furrowed. But even like this, he was still handsome. Six-foot-one, chiseled features. He lived up to his reputation—wild, arrogant, untamable. Even in the few minutes we stood there, several girls had already turned to look at him. I gripped the empty bag tightly and forced a smile. “Debate club just finished, and I have finals coming up. Reviewing has been brutal.” “Mia, girls need to take care of themselves even when they’re busy. Look at you, you have dark circles.” It was Lilly. I looked at her. Oval face with a hint of baby fat, flawless skin, smiling eyes—the standard “sweet girl.” But she misunderstood something. I wasn’t the type to suffer in silence. “Really? You should focus on your studies too. If you fail your English major exams, you can’t graduate,” I smiled sweetly. Her face stiffened for a second, then she pouted cutely. “Oh, I’m just so dumb. Not like you, Mia, you’re so smart and capable. And you have such a handsome boyfriend like Caleb. I’m so envious.” This “pick-me” act was making me nauseous. Just as I was about to roast her, Caleb interrupted: “Alright, I’m going back.” He turned to walk toward the dorms. He didn’t even look at me. I stood there like a clown. Apart from taking the clothes and roasting my appearance, he hadn’t said a single unnecessary word to me. But the moment I was about to clap back at Lilly, he spoke up. In that instant, anger tore at my heart, burning and aching. I knew Caleb had a sharp tongue and a bad temper, but he had always been there when I needed him. But right now, I suddenly wondered: was the person I liked even real? Was someone who treated feelings like a game really the same person I thought was secretly kind-hearted? Looking at his back, I felt like someone was squeezing my heart. But then, Lilly trotted over and tugged on Caleb’s sleeve, whining, “Caleb! You said you’d buy me boba!” Caleb paused, then nodded. “Wait a sec. Let me put these back.” Lilly stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Caleb smiled lazily. But I knew Caleb hated sweets, and he especially hated sugary drinks like boba. He only drank water. But even so, seeing the provocative look in Lilly’s eyes, I didn’t want to admit defeat. “Caleb.” I called out to him. He turned around. Sunlight filtered through the trees onto his face, like a chiaroscuro painting. “What?” He walked back, looking down at me. I bit my lip, looking straight into his eyes, wanting to ask if he confessed to me because of a dare. But suddenly, I thought: what if he did? Would I lose him then? “I’ll go too. For boba.” My voice was dry. He looked at me. “Didn’t you say you were on a diet? Why are you drinking that stuff again?” In that moment, embarrassment and shame crushed me completely. My humility, my endurance—it was all worthless. Seeing my state, Lilly chided him playfully, “Caleb, chubby girls are cute too. How can you dislike her?” Caleb froze, looking at me, a bit uncomfortable. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just because you said…” “Forget it. I’m not going.” I didn’t look at his expression. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist. “I really didn’t mean it like that.” I sneered. Was he that afraid of losing the game? Thinking of this, I turned back, tears pressing against my eyes, and choked out, “Whatever. You only confessed because of a stupid game anyway. Why pretend?” He froze, lips moving silently. But that was enough. I laughed bitterly, wiped my tears fiercely, and said word by word: “Let’s break up.” He looked at me in disbelief, wanting to say something. But I didn’t want to hear it. I shook him off and ran back to my dorm, crying on my bed for a long time. He didn’t know I had liked him for years but never dared to confess, only watching him silently. So when he confessed to me, I felt like the whole world belonged to me. But just a week later, reality slapped me in the face. Staring at the ceiling, I thought, forget it. Why make myself so pathetic? Maybe from the beginning, the Caleb I liked was just a fantasy. 3 The next day, I iced my eyes for a long time so they wouldn’t be so swollen. I put on makeup and went to work at the bakery near campus. The bakery was opened by a recent grad, Evan. He was pretty chill and just loved making desserts. Unexpectedly, the place blew up as soon as it opened. I thought people came for his face. But after trying the cakes, I realized the taste was as good as his face. As a dessert lover, I was hooked. So, I boldly applied for a job, and surprisingly got hired. It covered my monthly living expenses. But today, as soon as I walked in, I saw an unwanted guest. “Oh? Mia? You work here?” It was Lilly again. So annoying. She was wearing a white shirt, pink skirt, and white sneakers—youthful and vibrant. I frowned and ignored her. Evan saw me and walked straight over, the usual smile on his face fading a bit. “You cried?” I shook my head with a smile. “Just didn’t sleep well.” He looked down at me for a while, then nodded gently. “Go get ready.” “Okay.” Just as I was about to leave, I heard Lilly say to Evan, “Evan, I really want to learn how to make cakes. I can work for free.” I slowed down hearing this. Evan had a good temper and rarely rejected people. Plus, the shop was indeed short-staffed recently. I pursed my lips. If Lilly really came here, I would quit. I can’t afford to provoke her, but I can hide, right? Evan spoke. I stopped, my heart inadvertently lifting, as his gentle voice said slowly: “No.” 4 When Lilly left, she smiled at me. Weirdo. I withdrew my gaze and looked at Evan, who was piping a cake. I wanted to ask why he refused. But thinking about it, it didn’t seem necessary. Anyway, no one annoying around on future shifts was a good thing. “Wrong ratio.” Evan reminded me. But his eyes were still on the cake, not looking at me at all. I froze and stopped immediately. I had poured too much milk. “Oh… I’ll add more low-gluten flour.” He didn’t speak, just put down the piping bag and started decorating the surface with fruit, bit by bit. I cursed myself silently and quickly gathered my scattered thoughts to work seriously. Evan was very chill. But when he made cakes, he was extremely serious, as if pouring his soul into the sculpting. I learned a lot from him in the past two years, almost enough to open a small shop myself. Bang! Something hit the glass window. I looked up in surprise and saw Caleb staring at me through the window, suppressing sparks of anger in his eyes. “Come out!” He mouthed. Lilly stood beside him, looking worried and guilty, saying something to him. But obviously, hearing those words, he got angrier. I frowned, getting a bit angry too, but mostly feeling baffled and powerless. “I’m going out for a sec.” “Okay.” Evan nodded, looking a bit worried. I took off my gloves. As soon as I pushed the door open, Caleb grabbed me and dragged me away. My wrist hurt from his grip. “Let go!” I tried to shake him off but failed. He gripped tighter. “Let go of me! Are you crazy?!” I cursed loudly, eyes red. In the eyes of my parents and others, I had always been an easygoing, hardworking, obedient girl. Avoiding conflict whenever possible. Hiding if I couldn’t handle it. But that didn’t mean I had no temper. Caleb had never seen me like this. He was a bit surprised, then looked at my red wrist and quickly let go. “Mia, I didn’t mean to. I just saw you and him…” At this point, his face darkened. “Don’t do that part-time job anymore. I don’t like him.” I looked up at his sharp eyebrows and laughed. “Why?” He frowned, not understanding. “You and another guy cooped up in that small space making cakes every day… I’m… unhappy.” I looked at him, finding him laughable for the first time. “I’ve been working here for a year. Now you’re unhappy? Did Lilly say something to you?” Hearing my words, his expression hardened. “How much do you make a month? I’ll transfer it to you.” He picked up his phone and transferred three thousand dollars to me. Then he looked up, helpless. “Is that enough?” I bit my lip, nails digging into my palm. I took several deep breaths to suppress the urge to slap him. “Caleb, I recall we broke up yesterday.” Caleb’s face went cold. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re throwing a tantrum, I know. Lilly told me girls love doing this. The game thing is true, but my… confession was sincere too.” He looked uncomfortable, even anxious, and cursed. “Can’t you just trust me for once?” I looked at him, not knowing what expression to make. “Then why do you trust Lilly and not me?” He couldn’t understand. “She’s timid and innocent, and has no conflict with you. Why would she lie? Mia, do you want to keep that crappy job so badly?” I laughed, feeling my heart being torn into strips. She’s timid? She’s innocent? I took a step back, wiped away the tears from laughing, and said coldly, “Caleb, we broke up. Don’t come find me again.” “F*ck! Who wants to find you anyway! Go be with that cake guy!” Caleb’s anger finally exploded. He punched the wall next to the school gate hard and walked away. I turned around and saw Lilly’s “innocent and beautiful” face. She smirked at me triumphantly and chased after Caleb. There weren’t many people at the school gate right now, but there were still students passing by in twos and threes. Their gazes cut me like knives. Exhausted, I leaned against the wall and squatted down, hugging myself, burying my head in my knees, as if this could hide me from all the stares and hurt. So tired. Really so tired.

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Preston Maxwell’s colleague, Daisy Palmer, was very pregnant. She waltzed through the front door, belly first, demanding the last gift from her registry, right as I was putting the finishing touches on our wedding decor. “Are you serious?” I managed, my voice raw. Preston looked utterly bewildered by my reaction. “I just helped her out with a sperm donation, Cathy. I’ve been nothing but faithful to you.” Then, he actually took her to the mall to pick out the gift. I immediately shared the story to our synchronized family group chat, canceling the wedding. But everyone seemed to think I was overreacting. Preston’s mother, Mrs. Maxwell, spoke in a long-suffering, patient tone: “Preston is handsome and has an Ivy League degree. Genes like that should be passed on. It’s practically a public service.” His father, Mr. Maxwell, scoffed: “He didn’t cheat on you. Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?” My own father was so enraged he nearly had a heart attack: “You stubborn fool! This is a perfect match. You dare throw it away?” My mother wailed dramatically: “Cancel this, and you’ll never find another husband!” “Then I’ll never marry!” I shot back, my eyes burning. But then my phone buzzed with a message from someone else: “Cathy Jensen, when do I finally get the way to the top?” … That evening, Preston gently ushered Daisy Palmer through the door. They had bought a massive box of toys for the unborn baby. Daisy lightly stroked her bump, and they exchanged a look that was undeniably filled with the shared, uncomplicated joy of impending parenthood. When she saw me, Daisy offered a small, neatly wrapped box. “Cathy, this is a gift I picked out just for you. I only found out today how upset you were about all this, so please take this as… a small apology.” I didn’t even look. It hit the bottom of the Restoration Hardware trash bin with a satisfying, hollow thud. Daisy’s practiced smile evaporated. Tears immediately tracked down her cheeks. “Cathy, I… I’m so sorry.” She choked back a sob and instinctively shrank behind Preston. Preston immediately shielded her. He looked at me with a weary, almost patronizing air. “Cathy, don’t be like this.” “I was just doing my part to donate high-quality genes, in line with the department’s initiative. Daisy’s a committed single mother by choice. She just wanted a baby, not a husband.” “We’re just colleagues. Seriously, there’s nothing going on.” “Just colleagues?” My voice shook. “Colleagues who text ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good night’ every single day? Colleagues who share a private Spotify playlist? Colleagues who cover for her at client dinners and drive her the twenty extra miles home after a late shift?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture of exhaustion. “There you go again. I’ve explained all of this. It’s just professional courtesy. You’re being paranoid and reading into things.” I laughed, a sharp, cold sound. His excuses were pathetic and weak—casual workplace exchanges, a mentor looking out for a junior team member. They were full of holes, yet for five years, I had chosen to stitch them shut with my trust. But five years of my life. I couldn’t just let it end like this. I gritted my teeth, pointing at Daisy’s stomach, testing him one last time. “Fine. I’m the paranoid one. I misunderstood everything.” I stared into Preston’s eyes. “She can get rid of the baby. And I’ll consider everything forgotten. The wedding is back on.” “Absolutely not!” Preston’s voice cracked with sudden rage, though he quickly forced it down. “The baby is Daisy’s. I have no right to decide that.” Daisy instantly went pale. Then, with a dramatic gasp, she dropped to her knees. She clasped her hands over her stomach. “Cathy, there’s nothing between Preston and me. The baby is eight months old. He was just kicking me. I can’t, I can’t…” She was sobbing, trembling like a leaf. Preston’s face was a mask of internal conflict. After a few agonizing seconds, his composure broke. He helped her up, his smile forced and weak. “Cathy, asking her to terminate the pregnancy now is like tearing her heart out.” I watched him, a cold smirk twisting my lips. “Oh. Does that hurt your heart?” Preston visibly flinched. A look of genuine pain flashed across his face. “I didn’t think you could be so ruthless. If this is a condition of our marriage, then we truly aren’t the same kind of people… We should break up.” “Preston is innocent, Cathy! Don’t take this out on him!” Daisy suddenly shrieked. “If you want to blame someone, blame me! I can’t give up my baby… I’ll prove our innocence by ending my own life right now!” Before the words were out, she made a stumbling rush toward the balcony, making a show of trying to climb over the railing. My heart flew into my throat. I automatically started toward her. Preston was already moving, pure panic on his face. But before either of us could reach her, Daisy simply collapsed onto the floor, hyperventilating and weeping uncontrollably. Preston immediately wrapped her in his arms, his whole body shaking. After a long moment, he looked up, his eyes glacial as they fixed on me, still standing there. “Charlotte Jensen! Your baseless accusations nearly killed her!” His look was utterly cold, as if he were staring at a stranger. “She’s a young woman, pregnant, and vulnerable. You can stand there and watch her suffer, but I can’t.” His voice was vibrating with emotion. He carefully lifted Daisy into his arms. As he passed me, he growled, “Move.” I stood paralyzed, trying to form the words. “I wasn’t going to…” “Preston, the baby… I think the baby is coming.” Daisy moaned weakly, then went limp in his arms. “Daisy!” Preston’s face went white. He shoved past me with urgent force, carrying Daisy out the door. I sank onto the floor, biting down hard on my lip, trying to contain the freezing despair welling up inside me. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until dawn. My phone finally lit up with a text from Preston: I was out of line last night. I said things I didn’t mean. Cathy, I’m sorry. My nose started to sting. Tears immediately welled up. For years, he was always the one to apologize first after a fight, and I would always take the graceful path back to him. But this time was different. This was a line I could never uncross. Before I could reply, he sent a photo. It was of him and a newborn baby. The tiny infant was tucked gently into his arm. He was looking down at her with a tenderness that made his eyes look like soft spring water. Daisy had an early labor, but they’re both safe. The baby looks exactly like me. She’s alone, so I’m staying here at the hospital for three days to help out. Let’s push the wedding back a week. I can’t deal with all the planning right now. These simple, everyday words, every single one of them, felt like a spike driven through my chest. I numbly stood up and began systematically peeling the wedding stickers off the walls. Then I took scissors to the gown, reducing the silk and lace to a heap of worthless scraps. My fingers were shaking uncontrollably as I packed my suitcase. Just as I zipped it shut, Mrs. Maxwell burst in, her face beaming. “Preston asked me to bring him a change of clothes at the hospital. Honestly, I’m so eager to see my granddaughter!” When I didn’t speak, she took my arm with false warmth. “Cathy, look, Preston was wrong. He shouldn’t have kept the ‘donation’ a secret and embarrassed you. But it’s not some unforgivable sin, is it?” “We know you two are solid. You can’t let something this small ruin everything. Just forget what you said in the group chat. It was just heat of the moment.” “Come on, let’s go see the baby together. Give Preston an out, and we’ll forget this whole messy thing ever happened.” Like a puppet, I allowed her to drag me along. When I finally came back to myself, I was standing outside the hospital room. Daisy was lying weakly on the bed, her pale face still streaked with tears, a clear indication of a difficult labor. Preston was holding the baby, softly humming a lullaby. Mr. Maxwell smiled, a rare sight. “Preston’s an airline executive. Let’s call her Clarity. A clear new start.” “Don’t be ridiculous!” Mrs. Maxwell chided. “That’s no name for a baby girl!” She eagerly reached out to take the baby. Preston shifted away. “Mom, don’t. You’ll hurt her. I’ve got her.” He glanced up and caught sight of me. His eyes instantly lit up. “Cathy, come look at her. Look how tiny her hands and feet are.” He leaned down to kiss the baby, then stopped abruptly, looking panicked, like a scolded child. “Wait, wait, Dad can’t give you any germs.” I had never seen him look so tender, so endearingly clumsy. This was the clumsy, gentle side of a new father. He was desperate to show his joy to the world, but I was the one person who should have been excluded from it. My face felt stiff as I managed a tight smile and turned to leave. Preston rushed to catch me, carefully presenting the swaddled infant to me. “Cathy, look. Doesn’t her nose and mouth look exactly like mine?” I looked down. The tiny face was indeed an exact, uncanny miniature of his. The similarity stabbed my eyes. My throat felt instantly thick. I coldly pushed the bundle away. Staring at Preston’s expectant face, I suddenly didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of my pain. “Take her away. She’s ugly. She’s annoying to look at.” The baby started to wail. Preston’s expression instantly turned cold. He gently patted the child, comforting her. Mrs. Maxwell glared at me, her gaze like a knife. “You’re the one who’s annoying!” Mr. Maxwell simply pointed toward the door. “You’re not welcome here. Get out!” Daisy, on the bed, suddenly stirred. “Cathy…” She pleaded with the Maxwells. “Could I please speak with Cathy alone?” As soon as the door closed, Daisy offered a small, apologetic smile. “Cathy, I don’t want to break you two up. Preston really loves you. Actually, that night, he was drunk, and we just…” My mind went blank with a sudden roar. “It wasn’t a sperm donation?” She looked away. “Preston insisted on keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t be hurt.” “By the time I found out I was pregnant, I was three months along. He was furious. He said he’d pay me a huge sum for hush money once the baby was born and told me never to mention it again.” “Then why are you telling me now?” I asked coldly. “Why did you intentionally show up at my house, pregnant? Why didn’t you keep the secret forever?” She clearly hadn’t anticipated my directness. Her face shifted colors before she finally pursed her lips and stayed silent. I laughed with a bitter edge. “You’ve won. Preston and I are over. Your family of three can live happily ever after. What is it you’re still worried about?” She suddenly looked up, her eyes flashing with a strange, triumphant light. The next second, she rolled straight off the bed in front of me, landing on the floor with a loud thud. She immediately began screaming in terrified hysterics. “Cathy! I was wrong! Please don’t hit me!” I was stunned, utterly speechless. Before I could react, a powerful force yanked me away. Snap! My cheek burned, and I instantly tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Mr. Maxwell’s face was dark with fury. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “You brazen fool! This is a hospital! You think you can act like an animal here?” He raised his hand to strike again, but Preston intercepted him. “Dad, she’s my fiancée. I’ll handle it.” He pulled me into the hallway, found a packet of ice, and gently held it to my swelling cheek. “I didn’t push her…” I mumbled, looking down. “Mmm,” he replied softly, neither angry nor curious. I knew him too well. That silence was the worst kind of denial. If he believed me, he would fight for me. If he didn’t, he would simply say nothing. But if he didn’t believe me, why was he being so gentle? Tears finally overflowed, splattering hot and wet onto the back of his hand. He snatched his hand back as if burned. He stood up. “If you’re just going to stand here and upset Daisy and the baby, you should go home.” I reached out, grabbing the edge of his jacket, tears blurring my vision. “Just trust me this once. Please?” He let out a deep sigh. He gently unpeeled my fingers one by one. His face was etched with total disappointment. “Cathy, I can overlook all the crazy things you’ve done. I love you too much not to. But you need to be honest with me.” His phone suddenly rang—Daisy’s specialized ringtone. It was a cheesy, emotional pop ballad called, “Heaven Is a Place on Earth.” I once asked him, “Is it appropriate to have a special ringtone for a female colleague?” He looked baffled. “She likes the song, I set it for her. Don’t overthink it.” I watched him answer the call, then turn and walk away without a backward glance. I sat alone on the bench, my cheek throbbing, laughing and crying all at once, like someone suddenly diagnosed with a terminal illness. He told me I needed to be honest? Had he been honest with me? I went back to the apartment and collected my things. I thought about going to my parents’ house, but they video-called me first. My father clutched his chest, pointing a trembling finger at me. “The Maxwells called! They said you showed up at the hospital like a maniac and attacked the poor girl who just gave birth! What were you thinking? The hospital CEO is my friend! He’s asking what the hell is going on! You’ve embarrassed the Jensen name!” My father started gasping. My mother rushed to get his pills, then glared at me. “Preston already explained everything! She’s just a colleague! You forced him to cheat! You’re driving him away!” She spotted the swelling on my face and sneered. “Serves you right!” “What did I do wrong that you all have to condemn me?” I took a shuddering breath, my voice hoarse. “Why will you believe total strangers over me?” “Believe what? Tell us!” my parents demanded, speaking over each other. Looking at their cold, resolute faces, I just deflated. “Never mind.” I frantically hung up the call. I couldn’t let them see my tears. Otherwise, I’d just hear the usual, “What else are you good for besides weeping?” In that moment, I realized I had nowhere to go. My phone vibrated. Sam Sullivan: “Cathy, when do I finally get the way to the top?” “Now.” I replied instantly, without thinking. Sam, the high school failure who used to be at the bottom of the class, suddenly transformed his senior year and followed me to the same university. He’d relentlessly pursued me for years, and I had rejected his hundred proposals. Who would want the cute, but utterly useless, class clown? Even if his smile made my heart skip a beat, the answer was always no. After college, I got with Preston. Sam went to Switzerland for grad school, but his messages never stopped. From daily check-ins and sharing life updates to the relentless question every few days: “When do I finally get the way to the top?” I had never replied. He was like a tireless robot, never giving up. Thinking of this, I sent him another text: “Three days from now. Straight to the altar. You want that spot or not?” Slam! The apartment door flew open. Preston stood in the doorway, his face a thundercloud, his eyes locked on me. “Charlotte Jensen! What the hell did you do to my shirt!” “Wh—” “Shut up!” He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist and slamming me against the wall. I had never seen him look like this. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath ragged. “I was wearing the shirt you brought me when I held the baby. Within ten minutes, she had a full-body rash and respiratory distress! She’s in the NICU right now!” “She’s a newborn! Cathy, you give me an explanation!” “I didn’t do anything!” My wrist felt crushed. I struggled to break free. “Let me go…” Before I could finish, he swung his fist. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head. There was a sickening crack next to my ear. His fist had struck the wall beside my head. When I opened my eyes, I saw blood seeping from his knuckles. “Preston,” I whispered, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Were you… were you actually going to hit me?” He seemed to snap out of a trance. He instantly released me and pulled me into a desperate embrace. “Cathy, I… I panicked. I’m so sorry.” “I told you I could overlook anything you did. But this is too far. Daisy is crying, saying she wants to die with the baby. Go down on your knees and apologize to her, okay?” Hot tears dripped onto my neck. “Do it for me, Cathy. I promise you, if you just apologize, we can still get married.” The man who hadn’t cried when he shattered his ribs in a flight training accident was crying now. A man’s tears meant he had a weakness. Daisy and the baby were his. I looked at his trembling shoulders and smiled, a strange, hollow smile. “Fine. I’ll apologize.” He visibly relaxed, relief washing over him. “Good. We’ll go to the hospital right now.” He reached for my hand. I pulled away, my face expressionless. “I can walk myself.” “Okay,” he nodded, but still hurried me. “Come on. I’m worried about Daisy losing it…” When we reached the entrance to the NICU, Daisy dropped to the floor and grabbed my legs, holding on for dear life. “Cathy, please! You can take my life! Just let the baby be okay!” She was screaming hysterically, sobbing and shaking. I was so angry I laughed. I reached down to pull her up. “Stop the act. I should be the one kneeling. Please, Miss Palmer, take my fiancé and leave me alone.” She snapped her head up. A flicker of triumph crossed her eyes, instantly replaced by terror. “No! No, that’s not it! Preston is yours forever. I would never dream of stealing him! I just want to live quietly with my baby.” “Get up!” I’d completely lost my patience. She grabbed my hand. I yanked my hand away in disgust. She used the momentum to throw herself backward, her head hitting the floor with a heavy thud. She let out another bloodcurdling shriek. “Enough!” Preston rushed over to help her up. He looked at me as if I were a terrifying monster. “Cathy Jensen, don’t come back here if you won’t apologize! Daisy just gave birth, and the baby is fighting for her life. How can you be so cruel?” I just looked down, unable to find anything to say. He wouldn’t believe me anyway, would he? After a long silence, Preston gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Forget it. Why do I expect an explanation? I’ve seen you hurt Daisy and the baby with my own eyes. Just go home. You’re only making things worse here.” “The baby’s parents! Who are the baby’s parents?” a doctor suddenly called out. Preston turned without hesitation, escorting Daisy away. The doctor scowled at me. “Non-essential personnel, don’t cause a disturbance.” He was right. They were the parents. I was the extraneous personnel. Twice in one day I had subjected myself to this humiliation. To everyone here, I was just a vicious, insane woman. Suddenly, all my strength left me. I swayed backward, only to fall into a warm embrace. Sam Sullivan steadied me. He looked intensely excited. “Cathy Jensen, you said ‘Now.’ Is the way to the top for real?”

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My dad was just a regular Uber driver until he picked up Caleb Vance, the biggest pop star in the world. Because of a traffic jam in downtown LA, my dad took a detour to save time. Caleb accused him of trying to rip him off and beat him senseless on the side of the road. My dad didn’t fight back. He didn’t say a word. But that wasn’t enough for Caleb. Later that night, Caleb sent hitmen to our house. They burned it to the ground with us inside. I died in that fire, screaming. But when I opened my eyes, I was back. I had been reborn. Staring at the face of the superstar on every billboard, I made a vow: I will make him pay. 1 I jolted awake to the sound of chatter. I looked around. My living room. My mom, dad, and little sister were all there, alive and well. I started shaking uncontrollably. I pinched my arm hard. The sharp pain brought tears to my eyes, but it confirmed the impossible. I was back. In my past life, my dad picked up Caleb Vance. A detour led to an accusation, a beating, and then a massacre. Caleb hired men to kill us and torch our home to cover his tracks. I remembered the three stab wounds in my stomach. I remembered the heat of the flames licking my skin as I died. The TV was playing a commercial. Caleb Vance’s perfect face filled the screen. My eyes went red. He was the “King of Pop,” the idol of millions. And he was the monster who murdered my family. My dad was a good man. He had a 5-star rating on the app. He never hurt anyone. And he died for it. Four lives. I would make Caleb pay in blood. “Sarah? Are you okay?” My sister, Mia, walked over, looking concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It seemed I was the only one who remembered. I had to protect them. I shook my head. “I’m fine. Hey, aren’t you going to visit that film set tomorrow? Is Caleb Vance going to be there?” Mia’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, you’re finally interested? But let me tell you, sis… Caleb is trash. Don’t waste your time on him.” 2 “He’s famous, but everyone knows he’s a nightmare on set,” Mia whispered, leaning in. “He treats the crew like slaves. Honestly, stick to stanning Leo. He’s an angel.” Mia was a hardcore fangirl. If she said Caleb was trash, the rumors were worse than I thought. I pretended to listen as she gushed about Leo, but my mind was racing. I needed to get close to Caleb. I needed evidence. The next morning, I woke up at 3 AM. Mia dragged me out of bed. “Fangirling requires dedication, Sarah!” We arrived at the hotel where the stars were getting their makeup done. A crowd was already there, parting like the Red Sea for the VIPs. I spent the morning infiltrating Caleb’s fan groups. I played the part of the eager new fan perfectly. By noon, I was in three group chats and had the scoop on his schedule. But Caleb never showed up. He had a 5 AM call time. It was now 10 AM. The fans were getting restless. “He’s skipping again?” one girl muttered. “Classic Caleb.” I realized this was my chance. 3 The fan network was terrifyingly efficient. Within minutes, they found him. “He’s at The Velvet Rope,” someone texted. “He’s clubbing.” The horde of fans started moving. I told Mia I was going home, then hailed a cab to the club. I wasn’t going as a fan. I was going as a spy. I slipped into the club, paid a waitress $200 to borrow her uniform, and grabbed a tray of drinks. I found Room 2230 in the VIP section. My heart hammered against my ribs. Inside, Caleb Vance was lounging on a sofa, surrounded by scantily clad women. But what caught my eye was the man on the floor. He was curled into a ball, his face a bloody pulp. Caleb’s designer boot was pressed onto the man’s neck. “You think you tell me when to work?” Caleb sneered, pouring a bottle of champagne over the man’s head. “You’re nothing. You’re a dog.” He ground his heel into the man’s cheek. The man whimpered but didn’t dare scream. It was his assistant. 4 I gripped the tray, my knuckles white. I had my phone in my apron pocket, camera lens peeking out, recording everything. Maybe I stared too long. Caleb looked up. His eyes locked onto me. He stood up and walked over, swaying slightly. He smelled of expensive cologne and stale alcohol. He grabbed my chin, his eyes raking over my body with disgusting entitlement. “Nice rack,” he slurred. “You’re staying with me tonight.” I didn’t think. I slapped him. The sound echoed in the silent room. Caleb froze. The room went dead still. I turned to run, but he grabbed my hair and yanked me back. “You bitch!” he screamed. “You think you can touch me? I’m going to kill you!” He threw me onto the sofa. His hands were everywhere, tearing at my uniform. The other men in the room laughed and cheered. “Get her, Caleb!” I grabbed a glass bottle from the table and smashed it against the wall. I held the jagged neck out. “Touch me and I’ll cut your throat!” Caleb laughed. “Feisty. I like it.” Just as he lunged, the door burst open. A tidal wave of screaming girls flooded the room. “Caleb!” “Oh my god!” Hundreds of phone cameras flashed. I had dropped the location in the fan group chat the moment I found him. 5 Caleb scrambled back, trying to cover his face. “Get out!” he roared. “Get the hell out! You crazy bitches!” The fans were horrified. They saw their idol, drunk, assaulting a waitress, with a beaten man on the floor. “He’s a monster!” one girl screamed, dropping her sign. Chaos erupted. In the confusion, I slipped out the back door. I had the video. I had the witness. I went home, shaking. It was 1 AM. Mia was waiting in the living room. “Where were you?” I showed her the video. She gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s… that’s Caleb? He tried to…?” “He’s sick, Mia. We have to stop him.” Mia wanted to call the police. I shook my head. “Attempted assault? He’ll be out in two hours with his lawyers. We need to bury him.” 6 We sold the footage to TMZ and sent anonymous tips to every major gossip site. By morning, Caleb Vance was trending #1 worldwide. #CalebVanceAssault #CalebVanceExposed The video of him beating his assistant went viral. The photos of him attacking me were everywhere. His reputation was in freefall. But I knew it wasn’t enough. I tracked down his assistant, Sam, in the hospital. He was wrapped in bandages, terrified. “I can’t talk,” he whispered. “He has my grandma. He said he’d kill her.” “We can help,” I promised. “But you have to trust the police.” We called the cops. Kidnapping was a federal crime. They rescued his grandmother within hours. Sam broke down and gave a full statement. Things were looking good. Until my phone rang. “Sarah?” Mia’s voice was trembling. “Dad… Dad’s in the hospital. Someone beat him up.” 7 My blood ran cold. It was happening again. I rushed to the ER. My dad was unconscious, beaten badly. “Where’s the car?” I asked Mia. “The dashcam.” “It’s still on the highway,” she said. I left them at the hospital and took a cab to the scene. I found the taxi on the side of the road. Three men were prying the doors open. “Hey!” I shouted. They turned. They held tire irons and crowbars. “Well look at that,” one of them sneered. “The daughter. We were paid to finish the job.” They walked toward me. I ran. I ran onto the highway, waving my arms. “Help! Help!” A black SUV swerved to avoid me. The three men were closing in. One threw a wrench; it hit my shoulder, numbing my arm. I fell. They stood over me, raising their weapons. SCREECH. The black SUV reversed at high speed, slamming into the guardrail between me and the killers. Four huge men jumped out. The killers took one look at them and ran.

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I was the most hated female celebrity on the internet. Even drinking water could get me cursed onto the trending list. On my birthday, I died in the bathroom. The first person to find my body was my best friend. She didn’t cry, nor did she call 911. The first thing she did was pry open my eyelids and bring my phone close. Ding. Face ID unlocked successfully. Followed by the sound of a Venmo transfer. She transferred all my money away. Floating in mid-air, I watched helplessly as she finished transferring the money, then took a high-definition ugly photo of my corpse. Caption: “My heart hurts so much, Lexi, how could you leave just like this?” Send. The internet exploded. Chapter 1 I died. Died quite suddenly, heart attack. When my soul floated out, I subconsciously covered my face. No makeup, bare face. If the paparazzi caught this, the gossip blogs would write about my “looks collapsing” again. The bathroom door was pushed open. It was Samantha. My only friend in this circle, my bestie, the famous “Innocent Angel” persona—oh no, she really is pure and kind, at least that’s what I thought when I was alive. “Sam! Save me!” I shouted, reaching out to pull her. My hand passed straight through her body. Sam couldn’t see me. She looked at me lying beside the bathtub, froze for a second. Then, she smiled. Not a sad bitter smile, but the maniacal laugh of someone who just won the Powerball jackpot. “Finally dead.” She said two words. I was stunned. Sam squatted down, didn’t check for breath, didn’t check for a heartbeat. She skillfully pried the phone out of my stiff hand. The screen lit up. She grabbed my hair, lifted my head, and faced the phone camera. I watched my pale face, eyes wide open in death, appear on the screen. Beep. Unlocked. Sam’s hand speed was amazingly fast. Opened the banking app, transfer, enter password. The password was my birthday, she knew it. “Transfer successful.” “Transfer successful.” “Transfer successful.” The phone kept vibrating, notification sounds ringing like a death knell. That was my acting fee, my appearance fee, the money I saved for five years to buy a house and retire. A total of $1.2 million. All transferred into an account called “Sam’s Studio”. Floating beside her, I was so angry I wanted to strangle her. “Sam! What are you doing! That’s my money!” “Didn’t you say you’re my best sister? Didn’t you say you don’t love money?” Sam couldn’t hear. After transferring the last sum, the balance showed: $0.00. She let out a long breath, as if unloading a heavy burden. Then, she took out a bottle of eye drops from her bag. Dripped two drops. Her eyes turned red instantly. She raised the phone, aiming at my corpse, finding an angle. Must capture my torn pajamas, my pores without makeup, and that face full of death. Click. Photo taken. She opened Twitter, edited the post: “Best sister, how could you bear to leave me alone? My heart hurts, hurts so much I can’t breathe.” Location: LA County Hospital. Click send. Only after doing all this did she leisurely dial 911. “Hello? Emergency center? Woo woo woo… my friend fainted… come quickly… I’m so scared…” Voice trembling, crying tone, the Oscars owe her a statuette. I floated on the ceiling, looking at this woman I trusted for five years. Suddenly felt, my death was truly a joke. Chapter 2 The ambulance came and went. Because I was already stone cold. The police came too, ruled out homicide—after all, I really had a heart attack, although this heart attack came strangely. My body was transported back to the mansion, temporarily placed in the living room. Sam said, she wanted me to leave “with dignity”, set up a memorial in the house, let fans and friends come to pay respects. Dignity? She chose my ugliest black photo as my memorial portrait. In the photo, I was rolling my eyes, mouth crooked, a screenshot from a variety show where I was pranked. She enlarged this photo to thirty inches, hung it right in the center of the memorial hall. The memorial was decorated “grandly”. The room was full of yellow chrysanthemums I hated most, the smell making me want to vomit. Sam wore a haute couture black dress, exquisite makeup, standing at the door receiving guests. Rather than a funeral, it was more like her personal runway show. Dozens of waves of reporters came. Flashbulbs clicking, all filming Sam who “fainted from crying three times”. “Miss Samantha, did Lexi Lin have any last wishes?” Sam wiped the corner of her eye with no tears: “Lexi said… what she regretted most in her life was letting down her fans, she wanted to donate all her last savings…” Bullshit! When did I say that? “Then how will her inheritance be distributed?” Sam sobbed: “Lexi trusted me, made a verbal will before she died, all assets handed over to me to manage, for charity funds…” I floated above Sam’s head, wanting to spit on her. Just then, the main door was smashed open with a BANG. A man wearing a tattered denim jacket, sweating profusely, rushed in. It was Luke. My biological brother. The person I hated most when I was alive. He was a gambler, a rogue, every time he sought me out it was money, money, money. The last WeChat message before I died was from him: “Sis, give me another fifty thousand, last time, beg you!” I didn’t reply then, blocked him directly. Now he came. Must be here to split the inheritance. “Samantha!” Luke, red-eyed, rushed towards Sam like a mad bull. “Where’s my sister? Where is my sister?!” Sam shrank back in fear, bodyguards immediately surrounded him. “Luke? What are you doing here? The person Lexi least wanted to see alive was you!” Sam screamed. Luke ignored her completely, pushed away the bodyguards, went straight for the coffin. He saw me lying inside. At that moment, I saw this six-foot man’s legs go soft, kneeling directly on the ground. “Sis…” His trembling hand wanted to touch my face, but dared not. “Sis, get up, don’t scare me…” “I got the money, really got it, don’t die…” What is he saying? What money got? Wasn’t he asking me for money? Luke suddenly turned his head, staring dead at Sam, eyes fierce enough to eat people. “It’s you! Did you kill her?!” Sam immediately hid behind the reporters’ cameras, trembling. “Luke, don’t spit blood! I know you need money, but you can’t use your sister’s death to extort!” Reporters’ cameras instantly aimed at Luke. “Is this Lexi Lin’s vampire brother?” “Heard he owed a pile of gambling debts, causing Lexi Lin to be scolded for years.” “Coming at this time, must be wanting the inheritance.” Luke ignored those cameras, he rushed up and grabbed Sam’s collar. “Where’s her medicine! I ask you, where’s her medicine!” “That imported medicine I gave you last week! Did you give it to her!” Medicine? I froze. I have congenital heart disease, only family knows this. Last week, Sam indeed gave me a bottle of medicine, saying Luke asked her to bring it to me. She said: “Your brother said he got this special medicine from abroad, don’t know if it’s true or fake, hope it’s not poison.” I was angry at the time, felt Luke had no good intentions, threw it aside casually, continued taking the “vitamins” Sam bought me. Sam’s eyes flickered, pushed Luke away hard. “What medicine? I don’t know what you’re talking about! Luke, you’re crazy for money!” She cried to the camera: “Everyone judge! Lexi’s bones aren’t cold yet, her own brother comes to make a scene at the memorial, opening his mouth about medicine and money, is this human?” Discussion around grew louder. “Animal.” “Lexi Lin is so miserable, having such a brother.” Luke trembled with anger. He took out a dirty plastic bag from his bosom, inside was a stack of crumpled receipts. “I didn’t ask for money! This is money I sold the old house for, and moved bricks at the construction site! I went to buy medicine for her!” “Doctor said that medicine could save her life! One shot costs twenty thousand! I scraped it together! I really scraped it together!” He scattered the pile of money and receipts on the ground. Red bills, mixed with the smell of soil. Floating in mid-air, I looked at the money on the ground, brain buzzing. Those receipts read: Heart Valve Repair Agent (Imported). Date was three days ago. That day, he messaged me asking for fifty thousand. Not gambling debt. It was my life-saving money short of fifty thousand. And I, blocked him. My soul trembled violently. Turns out, the brother I always treated as trash, sold house and blood to save me. And Sam, whom I treated as a sister, swapped the medicine for vitamins, watching me walk towards death. Sam screamed, winked at the bodyguards. “Kick him out! Don’t let him disturb Lexi’s soul!” Four burly men rushed up, pinned Luke down. Luke struggled desperately, head hitting the corner of the coffin, blood flowing. “Samantha! You will die badly! I want to call the police! I want an autopsy!” “Gag him!” Sam panicked. Luke was dragged out, thrown like a dead dog at the villa gate. Gate closed. Sam tidied her messed hair, showed a poignant smile to the camera. “Sorry, let everyone see a joke. Family ugliness shouldn’t be publicized, Lexi had a hard life, having such family…” Livestream bullet comments scrolled: [Heartache for Sam!] [Protect the world’s best bestie!] [Luke go die! Vampire!] I floated in the air, looking at the screen full of abuse, looking at Sam’s hypocritical face. I wanted to kill. But I was just a puff of air. Chapter 3 At night, fewer people in the memorial hall. Sam didn’t rest. She asked her assistant to set up fill lights, aiming at my coffin. What for? Soon I knew. She opened TikTok, started a livestream. Title: [Sending Lexi off on her final journey, organizing relics, all proceeds donated]. Just started, online viewers instantly broke one hundred thousand. “Good evening family members, I’m Samantha.” She wore plain clothes, no makeup (actually put on scheming no-makeup makeup), voice hoarse. “Lexi left too suddenly, left many things. I thought, can’t let these gather dust, better share with fans who love her.” She took out a bag. That was my favorite Hermès, limited edition. “This is the bag Lexi loved most in life, original price twenty thousand, today in livestream, just for charity, starting bid five thousand!” Bullet comments went crazy. [I want it! This is Lexi’s scent!] [Sam is really too kind, thinking of charity at this time.] Floating aside, I watched her take out my bags, jewelry, even my underwear, auctioning them one by one. “Thank you ‘Love Lexi Forever’ for the big rocket!” “Thank you Top 1 Brother!” Joy couldn’t be suppressed on Sam’s face, though she tried hard to control it. Money. All money. Even if I became a corpse, she wanted to dismantle my bones and suck my marrow, squeezing out the last bit of value. “By the way, here is a special relic.” Sam mysteriously took out a small box. Opened. Inside was a diary. My diary! It recorded all my secrets, including my complaints about Sam, and records of me finding accounts suspicious! Because of depression before death, my memory declined, I always wrote suspicions in the diary, but often forgot where I put it. Didn’t expect she found it. “This is Lexi’s diary.” Sam sighed, “Actually Lexi’s mental state wasn’t good before death, often wrote some… nonsense.” What does she want to do? She wants to read my diary in public? “Do family members want to hear Lexi’s inner world?” Sam stroked the diary cover. Comments: [Want to hear!] [Is there big tea?] [Read quickly!] “Then I’ll read a random paragraph.” Sam turned a page, pretending surprised. “Oh my, this page says… she said she actually always hated fans, felt fans are all leeks…” Bullshit! I didn’t write that! She made it up on the spot! Comments exploded instantly. [What? Lexi Lin is so disgusting?] [Loss I even sent her gifts, turns out treating me as leek?] [Good riddance! Such person!] Sam’s mouth corner raised imperceptibly. “Sigh, everyone don’t scold Lexi, she was sick too, brain not clear…” She was about to turn the next page. “This page says, she admitted she did dr…” Drugs?! She wants to rumor I did drugs?! Once this hat is put on, even if dead I’ll be nailed to the pillar of shame, even Luke will carry the title of “drug star family” for life! “Sam! You shut up!” I rushed over like crazy, wanting to grab the diary. Still passed through. I despaired. Even being a ghost is so useless? Just then, I suddenly felt a strong current. Coming from that fill light. I was angry, very angry. This anger seemed to turn into a kind of energy. Zzzzz— The fill light suddenly flickered a few times. Sam was startled: “What’s going on?” I looked at that bulb. Only one thought in mind: Explode! Bang! Bulb exploded. Glass shards scattered. Livestream plunged into darkness. Sam screamed: “Ah! My face!” A glass shard cut her cheek, blood flowed out. Chaos in livestream. [WTF! Paranormal event?] [Is Lexi manifesting?] [Must be because she lied! Lexi angry!] Watching Sam covering her face screaming, a thrill I never had surged in my heart. Turns out, I can control electricity! Although only a little bit, but enough. Sam, the game has just begun. Chapter 4 Sam turned off the livestream. The wound on her face wasn’t deep, but enough to make her furious. “Bad luck! Truly bad luck!” She threw my diary on the ground, stomped twice. “Dead already, still not peaceful!” She picked up the phone, dialed a number. “Hello? Mr. Wang? Yes, it’s me.” “Something unexpected happened, that Luke seems to know about the medicine… yes, he has receipts.” “Can’t wait, cremate directly tomorrow morning.” “What memorial service? Cancel! Drag directly to burn!” “As long as burned to ashes, even gods can’t find cause of death!” I floated in the corner, chilled all over. Cremate tomorrow morning? If no autopsy, if not found I was killed by swapped medicine, I really died in vain! And, my inheritance, my $1.2 million, will all fall rightfully into this murderer’s hands! No! Absolutely not! But what can I do now? Explode a bulb? At most scare her. I need help. Luke. Only Luke can help me. But Luke was kicked out, where is he? I tried floating out. Before I could only move three meters around the corpse. But this time, maybe because that bulb explosion gave me confidence, I actually floated out of the villa gate. It was late at night. By the road outside the villa, a figure squatted. It was Luke. He didn’t leave. He had gauze wrapped around his head, curled up under the street lamp, tightly clutching that plastic bag full of medicine receipts. Gnawing on a cold bun while staring at the villa gate. “Sis…” he muttered, “I won’t go, I won’t let them burn you.” “I want to take you home.” My tears—if ghosts have tears—fell down. I wanted to hug him. Wanted to tell him, Sis was wrong, Sis used to be a jerk. Suddenly, several black vans stopped in front of Luke. Doors slid open, seven or eight people holding sticks got off. Leading was Sam’s head bodyguard. “Kid, haven’t rolled yet?” Head bodyguard sneered, “Sister Sam said, you are an eyesore here, let us send you off.” Luke threw away the bun, stood up. Although injured, that fierceness was still there. “What do you want?” “What? Shut you up.” Bodyguard swung a stick over. Luke didn’t dodge, took a hard hit, then backhanded a punch on the bodyguard’s face. “I fight you!” But he was one person after all, they were seven or eight. Soon, Luke was beaten to the ground. Sticks fell on him like raindrops. “Stop hitting! Stop hitting!” I cried, rushing over trying to block for him. Useless. Sticks passed through my body, smashing on Luke’s back. Making dull thuds. Luke curled up, protecting that plastic bag in his bosom dead tight. That was evidence. That was his only weapon. “Grab that bag!” Head bodyguard shouted. Several people went up to pry Luke’s fingers. “No! This is my sister’s life! I won’t give!” Luke roared, fingers cracked by force, but he just wouldn’t let go. “Cripple him!” Bodyguard raised an iron rod, smashed down hard on Luke’s arm. Crack. Sound of bone fracture. Luke screamed, fainted from pain. Plastic bag was snatched. Head bodyguard took out a lighter, in front of the unconscious Luke, set that bag of receipts on fire. Fire light reddened the night sky. My heart, completely cold. Evidence gone. Brother crippled. What do I have to turn the tables? Bodyguards got in cars and left. Leaving Luke alone lying in a pool of blood, dead or alive unknown.

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My childhood best friend threw away his Stanford acceptance—the one we’d both bled for—all for a girl who was suddenly too fragile for California sunshine. The deadline for application material submission was half an hour away when his social media updated. In the soft glow of candlelight, he was gently placing a delicate birthday crown on her head. The caption: “Some choices are more important than a future.” My phone was vibrating wildly; it was my best friend, Jade. “Riley, are you still going to submit his forms? You’ve got three minutes left.” I closed the browser tab, watching the countdown clock tick. “No,” I said. “I’m not. That’s his call.” “I only pay for my own flight plan.” … At 6:00 p.m. sharp, the Stanford application system automatically closed. Jade let out a long, relieved breath on the other end of the line. “It’s about time you came to your senses! I’ll finally get to visit you in California next spring break!” Just as she was speaking, I heard the familiar beep of my front door’s smart lock. Beckett Nolan walked in, followed by Sadie Miller, looking as comfortable as if they were entering their own home. “Riley, you submitted your grad school application, right?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “I told Sadie that given her circumstances, staying domestic for a Master’s is the safest bet, but she was worried and insisted I come check on you.” He nudged her gently. “See? She’s more focused on your life than you are.” He gave the girl next to him a fond, almost paternal rub on the hair. The moment I’d decided not to follow Beckett’s path and stay behind, many of my raw emotions had settled into a quiet calm. I no longer felt that familiar tightening in my throat when I saw Sadie clutching his arm. I nodded. “All submitted. Did you need something?” Beckett frowned at my flat expression. “Riley, what’s with the attitude lately?” Sadie subtly tugged on his sleeve and spoke in a small voice: “Riley… you know about my family situation.” “Going abroad is too much of an expense. Even with a full scholarship, I can’t afford the living costs and flights.” “My grades are just okay. It’s better if I stay here, work on a domestic research project, and get a stipend.” She lowered her gaze. “It’s because of me that Beckett gave up his plan to go abroad. Please don’t be mad at him. He’s been working all afternoon connecting me with potential domestic advisors, so he didn’t get a chance to tell you himself…” Listening to her soft, frail explanation, I cut straight to the chase. “Didn’t you know all of these difficulties back when we started the application process?” “Why wait until the eleventh hour to bring it up?” Sadie looked genuinely shocked, her eyes instantly welling up. “I—I had talked it over with Beckett a while ago. It’s just that today was the final decision…” A while ago? I lowered my eyes. So, while I was pulling all-nighters with him, working on essays, grinding out practice problems, and dreaming of watching the sunset on the West Coast together, he was already planning a completely different future with Sadie. Seeing me silent, Sadie’s voice dropped to a whimper, laced with tears. Beckett placed his hand on her shoulder, his tone turning cold. “That’s enough, Riley.” “There’s no need to be so aggressive.” His words were like a bucket of ice water, jolting me completely awake. I looked at his familiar, yet suddenly alien face, then shifted my gaze away. “I’m not mad. I just wanted to know the reason.” Now I understood. And finally, I could let go. Beckett and I were the definition of childhood sweethearts, attached at the hip since kindergarten. After my father passed away, my mother became permanently based at her company’s overseas branch. She came home less than twice a year. For most of my childhood, it was just me and my grandmother in our old house. Some relatives always whispered cruel things—mocking my mother as a “career woman who neglects her home” or hinting that my family was “lacking a strong male presence.” I’d always hide under the old oak tree in the backyard to cry, not wanting my grandmother to see. That was where Beckett found me. He’d squat down in front of me, stick up for me, and every day after that, he’d bring me a warm bag of candied pecans. From then on, I was his shadow. We went to school together, studied for tests together, and cheered each other on through countless late nights, fueling each other’s dreams. We promised to go to America together, to get into the best schools, to drive Route 66, and wait for the sunrise over the Grand Canyon. We agreed that once we were settled there, we’d finally officially be a couple. Everything changed last year, the day Sadie arrived. She was a student his mother had sponsored from a disadvantaged school district. She was given special permission to transfer to our highly selective high school for her senior year, temporarily living with the Nolans. Initially, Beckett was distant, avoiding her at home and ignoring her at school. Sadie silently followed him around, organizing his messy homework, saving him a seat in the cafeteria, and collecting his lab reports. Her cautious, almost timid devotion occasionally reminded me of my younger self. So, I often urged Beckett to be kinder to her. But he was always indifferent. When we went off to college, Sadie applied for the Humanities program—the one with the lowest admissions score—just to be on the same campus as him. Then one day, while turning in forms at the Sociology department, we saw Sadie alone in the corner of a lecture hall, secretly wiping tears while listening to a TOEFL audio lesson. Beckett’s face was a study in conflicting emotions: surprise, guilt, pity. And perhaps a flicker of something else I couldn’t quite name. From that moment, everything shifted. He started canceling our weekend dates to help Sadie with English tutoring. He started walking her to public lectures because her roommate was giving her the cold shoulder. This afternoon, he’d texted to say he was officially pulling his application and would be staying in the country to pursue a direct PhD with Sadie. I was stunned for a long time, but the overriding emotion was, surprisingly, relief. It was as if a heavy stone I’d been carrying for years had finally hit the ground. Beckett was so sure I’d follow him that he didn’t even bother to ask about my choice before he and Sadie left. That evening, the department had a dinner gathering. When I arrived, they were already there. I chose a seat as far away from Beckett as possible. He kept staring at me, his eyes full of a complicated mix of confusion and irritation. A guy at the table laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Riley, why so far away? Better keep an eye on Beckett, or someone else might snatch him up for good.” Everyone knew who that “someone” was. Sadie didn’t deny it; she just blushed and glanced at Beckett. Our class president tried to smooth things over. “Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t Beckett and Riley promise to study abroad together?” Before I could speak, Sadie gently interjected, “Beckett didn’t accept the overseas offer. He was worried I wouldn’t adjust to life abroad, so he decided to stay here with me.” There was a hint of barely concealed triumph in her voice. The table went quiet for a beat. Someone asked me, “Riley, is that true? You don’t mind? You guys have been preparing for this since sophomore year, right?” I looked at the slight upturn of Sadie’s mouth and spoke calmly. “I don’t mind.” “To each their own path.” Just as Beckett had chosen Sadie. I had chosen my own road. Halfway through the dinner, I stepped out to take a call. When I returned, Beckett and Sadie had moved to the seats right next to me. Beckett’s cheeks were flushed with alcohol. He leaned in conspiratorially. “Riley, I know you’re upset that I gave up the study abroad plan.” “But you know Sadie’s situation. Going abroad is just too much stress for her.” “If she stays here, she can keep her financial aid and be close enough to care for her sick mother.” “She’s so sensitive; she’s never been far from home. You wouldn’t want her to be here alone, would you?” “Sadie said if you want to visit the US, we can save up after graduation and go together.” “Don’t be so dramatic, okay?” I pushed his shoulder away. “I told you, I’m not mad.” I raised an eyebrow. “But if Sadie has trouble with basic living expenses, how is she planning a trip to America?” Clang. Sadie’s glass tipped over onto the table. She bit her lip, her eyes instantly red. “Riley, I know your family is wealthy, and you’ve always looked down on me.” “I was planning to tutor on the side to save up for the trip, and I’d pay Beckett back for everything.” “Are you saying only people like you deserve to see the world?” “Am I supposed to just rot away here?” “I don’t steal or cheat; I earn every penny. Please stop talking to me like I’m beneath you.” The surrounding students started whispering: “That was a bit much from Riley…” “She’s smart, but sometimes she’s just too aggressive.” “Honestly, if I were him, I’d pick the sweet one like Sadie, too.” Sadie’s tears began to fall in earnest. Beckett’s eyes hardened completely. “Riley, apologize to Sadie. Now.” Jade, who had been quiet, finally snapped back. “Why? She’s the one who keeps playing the poverty card!” “Riley only asked a logical question based on her own words. Why should she apologize?” “Sadie had three months this summer. She could have interned or worked. But she hasn’t. She just tags along with you everywhere, planning trips to the States. Who’s being high and mighty now?” Sadie began to sob hysterically. I looked at the scene, feeling only a profound exhaustion. I pulled Jade up to leave. Beckett grabbed my wrist, his voice low with fury. “Riley, apologize. Or don’t bother coming on the graduation trip.” My wrist was throbbing. I gently peeled his fingers away, one by one, and looked him in the eye. “Beckett, you and Sadie can go wherever you like.” “Just don’t involve me in your drama.” “And don’t contact me again.” With that, I turned and walked out. That same night, Sadie posted on social media. It was a photo of her and Beckett at an amusement park. Caption: Meeting you was the best kind of luck. I glanced at it, feeling a deep, abiding peace. I went back to packing, preparing for my summer stay in the city where my mother worked. The moment the plane landed, my phone blew up with notifications—all from Beckett. “Riley, Sadie and I are planning the California trip. You can still make the reservation if you apologize now.” “There’s nothing going on between Sadie and me. That post was just a thank you.” “Riley, I truly don’t understand you.” “A domestic PhD track is a golden opportunity. What’s so terrible about it?” “You had a guaranteed spot. Why throw a tantrum over this?” I scrolled past the messages, leaving them unread. Beckett had considered Sadie’s needs from every angle. Yet, he had never once stopped to think that with my father gone, my mother’s business overseas, and my grandmother needing care in a warmer climate, staying in the country was the worst option for me. When I arrived at the apartment, a tall, well-built young man was sitting in the living room. He stood up and took my suitcase. “Do you remember me? I’m Damon Fox.” Damon, the son of my mother’s old colleague, was two years older than me and currently pursuing his PhD in California. Hearing I’d decided to go abroad, he’d flown home specifically to help me get a head start. For two solid weeks, Beckett didn’t try to call again. His social media feed was a constant stream of travel photos with Sadie. Meanwhile, with Damon’s steady help, I familiarized myself with my courses, secured an apartment, and sorted out all the details for my life across the ocean. Once all the paperwork was finalized, I returned to Boston one last time. This trip was purely to finalize the sale of our old house. My mom, still cautious, asked Damon to accompany me. Just as we entered the neighborhood, we ran into Beckett’s mother coming home from the grocery store. She insisted we come up for dinner. Unable to refuse, and hearing that Beckett and Sadie were out, we went upstairs. While cooking, Beckett’s mother lamented. “Riley, that son of mine drove me crazy.” “He secretly rejected the overseas scholarship without telling anyone. I only found out when the confirmation email hit my inbox.” “Thank God he said you eventually decided to stay, too. Otherwise, I’d have wrung his neck.” “Now that you two are doing your doctorates here, I need you to keep an eye on him for me.” Beckett’s mother treated me like a daughter. She was the one who always sat by my bedside when I had a fever as a child. I paused, then spoke softly, “Aunt Nora, I didn’t give up the scholarship. My paperwork is all done.” Beckett’s mother froze. Then she patted my hand, simply telling me to be careful out there alone. The dinner finished in a subtle, uncomfortable silence. After saying goodbye, I went home for the final clean-up. The house sale was final; the buyers were a couple desperate for a good school district for their child, scheduled to sign the contract that afternoon. I was showing them the view from the patio when a familiar voice erupted at the door: “Who are you?” “Why are you in Riley’s house?” I turned around. Beckett was standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed, staring aggressively at Damon. I stepped forward. “Beckett, this is Damon Fox, my mother’s friend’s son. Damon, this is Beckett Nolan, my oldest friend.” Beckett’s face darkened even further. He was about to press the issue when he was cut off by a tearful female voice. “Beckett, did you find out what happened?” It was Sadie. She was standing on the landing, her eyes red-rimmed. Beckett’s expression changed. He looked back at me. “Riley, did you stop by my house earlier today?” I nodded. “I ran into your mom, so I stayed for dinner.” The moment I finished, Sadie’s tears began to fall. Beckett’s brow furrowed. “Riley, what did you say to my mom at lunch?” “She suddenly gave Sadie the cold shoulder and told her to move out once she starts grad school.” “Giving up the scholarship was my decision. If you’re angry, take it out on me, but stop bullying Sadie.” “Go explain everything to my mom right now.” “Otherwise, you’ll regret it when the semester starts.” I was anxious to sign the contract. I had no energy for this. “Fine.” Beckett froze, then his face turned ashen. “Riley, what do you mean by that?” I didn’t answer. I gently closed the door. After the contracts were signed, I started the final sweep. The large furniture was staying; most of the clothes were handled. All that remained were some documents, photo albums, and a single cherrywood keepsake box. The box contained every birthday gift Beckett had given me from age eight to eighteen. The origami stars he’d folded, the simple silver necklace he’d saved up for, and the lucky charm he’d hiked for. Only my nineteenth birthday was missing. I remembered that Sunday. I was at the Nolans’ working on application details with Beckett. Things were already strained between us. All afternoon, he was helping Sadie revise her study proposal, barely speaking to me. I was hurt, but I refused to show my vulnerability in front of Sadie. As I was leaving, I spoke quietly. “Beckett, it’s my birthday today.” He paused, a look of immediate annoyance flashing across his face. He said he’d go straight out to pick up the gift he’d pre-ordered. But Sadie called out to him. “Beckett, I still don’t understand this question. Could you please go over it one more time?” Beckett looked at me, then at Sadie. After a moment of hesitation, he finally said, “Riley, just go home and wait for me. I’ll come over after I finish helping Sadie.” I waited until midnight. The clock struck twelve, and he never showed. When we met the next day at school, he didn’t bring the gift. He just frowned and told me, “Riley, you know Sadie’s never even had a birthday cake in her life.” His tone was laced with pity and concern. The ring of my phone pulled me back to the present. Damon’s voice. “Riley, your books and important documents have been shipped. Anything else I can help with here?” I looked around the empty room. “No, I’m all set. Just wait for me at the transit hub.” I sealed the cherrywood box and placed it, along with the rest of the unwanted clutter, into the recycling bin. Damon and I had a late-night flight booked. After saying goodbye to Aunt Nora, I rode my bike toward our meeting point. I didn’t expect to run into Beckett on the way.

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The day of Ashton Blackwood’s engagement party was a who’s who of the city’s elite. He was on the sofa with his fiancée, opening gifts, when the young woman let out a small, delicate “huh?” “Who sent this? A broken doll? Are they sick or something?” His friends craned their necks to see, then snickered. “Oh, that must be from Lily. Why’s it broken, though? You’ve gotta give her points for persistence. Pining after Ashton for seven years and she still hasn’t given up.” “She’s probably off crying in a corner somewhere right now.” They were all laughing at me. Only Ashton, sitting in the center of it all, felt his cigarette tremble, scattering a fine layer of ash on the marble floor. Because he suddenly remembered what I’d once told him. “I’ll keep this doll with me my entire life. Unless…” He had laughed then. “Unless what?” “Unless I stop loving you.” 1. I left the Blackwood villa and hailed a cab straight to the airport. The driver, with a thick New York accent, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You comin’ from the Blackwood kid’s engagement party, huh?” See? Ashton Blackwood’s name was that famous. Anyone who heard it could share a bit of gossip. “Heard he used to have a new girlfriend every week. Total player.” “Wasn’t he just in the tabloids with some starlet last month? You think he’s really ready to settle down? Bet it’s just for show. He’ll still have other women after the wedding.” I managed a small smile. “You’re right.” For a man of his stature, that kind of gossip wasn’t exactly a good look. In the past, I would have probably argued with the driver. I would have said that not every woman photographed with him was his girlfriend; some were just friends of friends. Or I would have insisted that he was truly in love with Isabelle, that he genuinely wanted to marry her. And for the rest of his long life, Ashton Blackwood would love Isabelle, and only Isabelle. Thinking this, I looked down at my phone. A new post popped up on my Instagram feed. It was a group photo from the party. 【Congrats to the happy couple! To a hundred years of happiness!】 A flood of comments followed. 【His fiancée is gorgeous. No wonder Ashton waited five years for her.】 … 【Yeah, I’m here now, they’re so sweet together.】 Just then, a text message came through. It was from Jack, Ashton’s best friend. 【Where are you? We were taking a group pic and couldn’t find you. Ash is pissed.】 I had only been at the engagement party for five minutes. Just long enough to drop off my gift and leave. I typed back. 【Something came up. I already left.】 A moment later, he replied. 【Why didn’t you say anything? Ashton would’ve had someone drive you.】 He had already given me so much. He’d paid for my education, my dance lessons, for anything I ever wanted to do. But the place I was going this time was too far. It was better this way. 2. I turned off my screen and didn’t reply. When I looked up, we were at a red light. The driver idly glanced out at a skyscraper. As if on cue, the massive screen on its facade was displaying an ad featuring the very same starlet he’d just mentioned. The driver clicked his tongue. “So, what’s your connection to the Blackwoods, kid? Be honest, you’re not another one of his exes, are you? I’ve already driven three of ’em over there today.” A bitter smile touched my lips. “No.” “I’m his stepsister.” He had countless flames, a life defined by romance. But whenever people talked about him, beyond the string of lovers, there was one other person they always mentioned: his stepsister. They always framed it as a story of his benevolence. The media had covered it years ago: after Ashton Blackwood’s stepmother passed away, he ignored the protests of his entire family and insisted on keeping the “charity case” she had brought with her into the marriage. I was only fifteen then. The Blackwood elders wanted to send me back to my hometown, but Ashton was the only one who refused. “Her deadbeat dad doesn’t even want her,” he had argued. “She has no one back there. You want to send her back to starve?” A soft sigh escaped me. If he had sent me away back then, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up like this. We arrived at the airport shortly after. With an hour and a half until boarding, I found a seat in the departure lounge. I scrolled through my phone for a bit, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, my phone was lit up with an endless stream of missed calls. Friends, classmates, people from Ashton’s circle. Even some of the Blackwood elders. And at the very top of the list: Ashton. He had called twenty-eight times. He’d nearly drained my battery. I was still trying to process it when I opened my messages and saw two from him, sent just a minute ago. The first was a photo. It was of me, in the airport lounge. I was wearing a cream-colored dress, leaning back in the chair and looking at my phone, my long hair spilling over my shoulders. Outside the window, the ground was a carpet of red maple leaves. The second message was a voice note. His voice was rough, laced with a barely-there thread of fury. “Lily, turn around.” 3. The lounge was bustling with people. I looked up and saw him standing not far away. I pressed my lips together. “What are you doing here?” He gave a harsh tug at the corner of his mouth but said nothing. In the next second, he was striding toward me. He snatched the suitcase from my hand, his voice cold and hard. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.” “You can go on a trip any other time. Did you have to pick today? Do you have any respect for me at all?” He didn’t mention the doll. It was as if he hadn’t even opened the gifts yet. But I’d already seen the message from Jack. He’d said: 【You gotta tell me what that doll was about. Ash saw it and completely lost his shit… Where are you?】 I reached for my suitcase. “I’m not going back.” He let out a cold laugh, his grip tightening on my wrist as he started pulling me toward the exit. “You’re my sister. If I don’t look after you, who will? You want to go to Australia? Fine. I’ll take you when I have time.” I shook my head, looking at him seriously. “No. I don’t need you to take me. I want to go by myself.” I repeated myself, for emphasis. “I don’t need anyone to go with me.” In the past, whenever he went on trips with his girlfriends, he would insist on dragging me along, saying he was worried I’d be lonely. He was considerate, though; to avoid making it awkward, he’d always invite Jack to keep me company. That was how Jack and I got to know each other. One time, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Lily,” he’d complained, “come on. Ashton has a girlfriend now. It’s not right for you to be so clingy. I know you like him, but it’s been years. It’s time to let it go. I don’t even have time for my own girlfriend because I’m always out here babysitting you. It’s depressing.” In that moment, I wished the ground would swallow me whole. I couldn’t explain that it was Ashton who made me come, because I had my own selfish reasons for wanting to be near him. I used to think that all those other girls were just flings. That one day, he might turn around and finally see me. After all, I had never seen him be particularly intimate with any of them. Until two weeks ago, when Isabelle came back. Ashton never asked me to come along again. He started coming home with lipstick marks on his collar. Not long after, they were engaged. Only then did I finally understand. His years of playing the field were all because of his first love, Isabelle. Ever since she had left, every girlfriend he’d had possessed at least one feature that resembled hers. 4. But Ashton still dragged me out of the airport. “I can make sure this flight never takes off,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you really want to test me?” “Besides,” he added, his tone softening slightly, “have you even touched your own face? You’re burning up. You have a fever, Lily.” Once we were in the car, I realized Jack was there too. He was in the driver’s seat, smoking. When he saw me, he quickly stubbed out the cigarette. “Whoa,” he said. “What’s going on here?” Ashton didn’t waste any time. “To the hospital.” The moment I got in the car, I closed my eyes and said nothing. Jack glanced at me in the rearview mirror, hesitated, and then called my name. I heard him, but I was too exhausted to respond. He seemed to take that as a cue, letting out a sigh of relief. “Jesus, Ash,” he said, “you really lost it this time.” “Do you have any idea how many reporters and media outlets were at that party? Do you know how many powerful people from business and politics were there?” Ashton’s voice was flat. “I know.” “The party’s not even over. Isabelle is still waiting for you. If you go back now, it’s not too late.” I wanted to say something, but my mouth wouldn’t open. And then, everything went black. When I woke up again, Ashton was standing by the window of the hospital room, his back to me, on the phone. I couldn’t hear the other side, but I heard his response: “We’ll postpone it for now. Just cancel it.” It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the engagement party. I sat up, my voice hoarse. “You should go back. Thank you for today.” Hearing my voice, Ashton turned around. He walked over to my bed and stood over me, his gaze dark and unreadable. “Do you really…” he started to ask. Those three words made my heart leap into my throat. Shamefully, my mind automatically finished his sentence: Do you really not have feelings for me anymore? But before he could finish, a soft voice came from the doorway. “Ashton.” It was just his name, but the way she said it was filled with an indescribable charm. Ashton’s expression shifted, and he looked away from me. He turned to her. “I’m sorry.” 5. Isabelle walked into the room with a gentle smile. “It’s okay.” “Your sister is my sister now, too. She was in a car accident. That’s a big deal. How could I possibly blame you?” It finally clicked. So that was the story Ashton was telling people. His sister was in a car accident, forcing him to leave his own engagement party. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. It was also obvious that Isabelle knew it was a lie, but she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she turned to me with a kind smile. “Lily, you’re about the right age. Have you thought about finding a boyfriend?” I was about to shake my head. But then I saw Ashton, standing beside her, clutching his phone so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Oh… Knowing him, he probably wanted me to find a boyfriend too. That way, there would be no chance of me ever getting in their way again. He had taken care of me for so many years. No matter what, I owed him. Maybe it was time to give him what he wanted. And to finally let myself go. “I’ve been thinking about it,” I said. The words had barely left my lips when Ashton’s head snapped up. He stared at me, completely still. Isabelle smiled, her gaze shifting to Ashton. She walked over, looped her arm through his, and said playfully, “You’re not doing a very good job as a big brother. You should be helping her out with that, you know.” Ashton was silent for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice deep and cold. “Right. I’ll get right on that.” He shot me one last, expressionless look, then gently removed Isabelle’s hand from his arm and walked out of the room. For a split second, Isabelle’s face went cold. She gave me a long, meaningful glance, said nothing, and followed him out. 6. To make sure I rested, Ashton confiscated my phone for the two days I was in the hospital. He also forbade anyone from visiting me. I only got my phone back the day I was discharged. The number of notifications was staggering. I answered a few messages from friends, and then my eyes fell on one at the very bottom of the list. There was no name saved, just a single letter as the username: q. 【Hey, where’d you go? I waited at the airport but didn’t see you.】 He was an online friend I’d met on a forum two years ago. He was witty, insightful, and had moved to Australia for school a few years back. When he found out I was planning to join a dance company there, he had been a huge help. As I was about to reply, the “is typing…” bubble appeared. A moment later, a new message popped up. 【Couldn’t get a hold of you. I just finished up with my school stuff and I’m back in the city. Want to meet up?】 I typed back quickly. 【Yeah, definitely! Sorry about before, something came up.】 He replied almost instantly. 【No worries. You’re okay, right?】 I told him I was fine. He seemed relieved and sent a voice note. “Good to hear. See you soon, then?” 【Yep.】 After I replied, I looked over at Ashton’s back. He was bent over, packing my things. He had barely left my side for the past two days. He looked exhausted. But ever since that day in the hospital, we had hardly spoken. It used to be me, racking my brain for something to talk about. Now, I wasn’t initiating anymore. And whenever he spoke, my replies were short and to the point. We had run out of things to say to each other. I thought for a moment, then spoke. “Ashton.” He froze, and for a split second, I heard a flicker of something almost like hope in his voice. “What is it?” I looked up at him, my own voice calm and steady. “I can put off going abroad for now. But I want to move out of the Blackwood house.” 7. I’d brought it up many times before, but Ashton had never agreed. Back then, I was in love with him, so I had always let it go and stayed. But now, he had a fiancée. It wasn’t right for me to be living under his roof anymore. I thought, given how much he loved Isabelle, he would surely agree this time. But to my surprise, the moment the words left my mouth, he threw the clothes he was folding onto the bed, grabbed me, and squeezed my arms, his grip painfully tight. He let out a cold, humorless laugh. He said my name. “Lily.” “How long are you going to keep this up?” I was genuinely confused. “What?” He took a deep breath, his eyes glinting with a chilling light. “I know what you’re doing. All those other women before—if you didn’t like them, I’d get rid of them. But Isabelle is different. I’ve already postponed the engagement for you. I’ve done everything a brother could possibly do. Are you really going to force my hand?” I was speechless. He was right. More than half of his past girlfriends had broken up with him because of me. He smirked, finally bringing up the doll. He leaned in close, his thumb brushing against my lips. I flinched. “What do you mean by that?” “The doll, running off to Australia, and now this talk about moving out,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Lily, you’re too young to play these games. This whole push-and-pull thing… you don’t know how to play it. Stop this. Just be the little princess of the Blackwood family. I’ll give you anything you want.” I opened my mouth to argue, but just then, his assistant’s voice came from the doorway. “Mr. Blackwood, Miss Isabelle just called. She’d like you to come over and help choose a new date for the engagement.”

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During the critical period of fighting for my custody, my mother suddenly claimed she was the Villainess in a novel and awakened memories of her past life. She said she worked three jobs a day to raise me, but I would favor my father and his mistress when I grew up, leaving her to die alone in a Nursing Home. So this time, she gave up my custody first and adopted a girl whose parents sacrificed in a fire. No matter how I cried and screamed, Mom remained indifferent. Three months later, living with Dad, I was bullied by my stepmother’s daughter at school and suffered from severe depression. After the 50th time of having suicidal thoughts, covered in disgusting vomit, I begged my mother to help me transfer schools. Seeing me again, the motherly love in her eyes was long gone, only disgust remained. “Luna, didn’t I say we cut ties? You are not my daughter, why are you still pestering me!” Before I could speak, she suddenly had a mental breakdown and slapped herself. “Do I owe your King family? The old one wasted ten years of my youth, and the small one haunts me like a debt collector!” “I finally got a little happier, and you come to haunt me like a ghost. Are you trying to force me to death?” Seeing she was about to rush to the kitchen to get a knife, I endured the pain of my broken bone, knelt down first and kowtowed heavily to apologize. “Sorry, Mom, it’s my fault, I promise never to come again.” She didn’t believe me. Before leaving, she held a written Emancipation Paper, asking me to sign. I took the pen, and with my only functioning left hand, tremblingly wrote down my name. Walking out the door, I immediately called an Uber to the seaside. Goodbye Mom, never see you again. Chapter 1 For the past 50 times, whenever suicidal thoughts wrapped around my neck like vines, I would screen methods and locations of death over and over again on the internet late at night. In less than a week, the densely packed links in my favorites occupied several gigabytes. Now determined not to live, I wanted to decide my final destination by throwing a die. Watching the die finally settle on 6, I confirmed the way of death by jumping into the sea. While waiting for the car, my mother’s voice sounded from behind. “Luna, why haven’t you left yet? Do you want to rely on me here till death?” I was startled unprepared, phone clattered and fell in front of her shoes. The death methods and locations in favorites were exposed under the sunlight. Afraid she would see, I bent down and reached out quickly. But still a step too late, phone snatched by her. Looking at her gradually serious face, besides anxiety, a trace of expectation uncontrollably rose in my heart… “Luna, you wouldn’t think threatening suicide is useful to me, right?” Heart felt like poured by a basin of cold water. After cooling through, felt myself ridiculously stupid. I forgot. Two months ago, mother adopted a new daughter. She bought her clothes of my favorite brand, took her to watch plays we watched, let her live in my former room, and even gave her the same nickname “Jojo” (Original text: Jiaojiao) as me. And my things, small as the necklace I bought for mom, big as my dolls, were thrown into trash can like garbage one by one. Even last week when I was poured cold water and locked in restroom by stepsister Harper, I messaged mom asking if she could come see me, she only replied “Busy” and blocked me. Later, punished by father kneeling in small shrine all night, I switched to Finsta and saw her Instagram Story. Under starlight, she accompanied new daughter on Ferris wheel, smiling eyes bent holding her in arms, gave her a dress she hand-made, calling “Jojo” again and again. Thinking of mom’s hands full of band-aids from needle pricks making clothes, I endured sourness in heart, shook head. “I didn’t mean to threaten Mom, I know you have a new daughter.” “I’m waiting for Uber, once it comes, I’ll go.” Afraid she wouldn’t believe, I snatched back phone, switched to Uber page. 7 minutes until driver arrives. Shock flashed in her eyes, seemed didn’t expect my reaction. Dryly replied. “Best if you think so!” “Don’t come find me later either, I won’t…” “Okay.” I smiled and nodded, bowed deeply again. “Thank you for raising me, I won’t come again in future.” Anyway I have no future. When getting up, collar slipped due to bowing, a dark red whip mark on neck side exposed. Her gaze stuck dead on that scar, brows unconsciously frowned. “What’s with the injury on your neck…” Meeting her disgusted gaze, I subconsciously panicked. Mom already hates me, what if she misunderstands I’m playing wild outside? Just about to explain it was beaten by stepsister Harper, a figure threw into mom’s arms, acting spoiled. “Mommy, why you out so long ah, I waited till hypoglycemia attacked.” Hearing “hypoglycemia”, mom’s gaze quickly withdrew from me, supporting her apologizing repeatedly. “All mommy’s fault, delayed my Jojo’s meal for irrelevant person, we go home now.” Irrelevant person? My eye rims a bit sour, but looking at just signed Emancipation Paper in hand couldn’t think of rebutting words. Indeed, current me has no relationship with her. Just about to turn leave, delicate voice called me. “Sister, do you want to go back with us, eat a meal then…” Meeting her kind eyes, I didn’t understand why she suddenly changed a face. Before I knocked door, she put harsh words to me. “You shouldn’t come, a bitch turning elbow outward like you doesn’t deserve such good mom, death is your destination, can you hurry die!” “Only you die, everyone can be happy, otherwise everyone will be dragged down by you, especially mom, she has nightmares seeing you, uncontrollably self-harm.” I was burned by hate in her eyes, stubbornly thought she was threatening me. Until mom saw my face, suddenly collapsed slapping herself, shouting taking knife suicide. Especially scars on her wrist one by one. I knew what she said was true. My existence is pain to her. Person like me, deserves to die. So, I swallowed words asking mom help transfer school, signed Emancipation Paper. If between us two, only one can gain happiness. I hope it’s mom. She is so kind and lovely. Taught me since young to care for animals, respect others. Living expenses from father. She didn’t buy bags like other rich wives, but built stray animal shelter, raised group of cats and dogs. She knew some couldn’t afford school, no playground, built Charity Schools one by one, playgrounds one by one. Every New Year, letters thanking mom could pile into a small hill. To me, she was good beyond words. I liked dresses, she hand-made for me, I liked animals plants, she personally took care of villa garden, let me eat first bite of organic vegetables. I sick, she stayed up whole nights guarding me. When I was 5 got acute aplastic anemia, doctor said I couldn’t live past three months. Mom even knelt outside mountain temple gate, from dawn to late night, one step one kowtow, climbed 999 bluestone steps. Steps full of gravel, her knees ground bloody, seeping blood dyed stone slabs red, finally begged this jade plaque engraved with my name. Magically, after I wore jade plaque, doctor found misdiagnosis, my illness miraculously improved. Can say, she gave me life twice. And I as daughter, can give nothing. At least don’t drag her down welcoming new life. “You are right, burden like me, indeed deserves to die.” I pulled off jade plaque from neck, put into girl’s hand. “This is Heirloom Locket mom begged for me, very efficacious, I give to you. Hope you be safe forever, always accompany mom, let her happy forever.” She stared at me complicatedly, still accepted locket. I sighed relief, hugged her. “Thank you for coming to mom’s side, please take care of her later.” I took out notebook recording mom from bag again. “This records mom’s birthday wishes every year, what she loves eating, what she hates.” Lily accepted notebook, agreed me. “You little girl, how I told you usually, have vigilance to people, can’t invite anyone home to eat, what if do bad things to you?” Mother’s words interrupted my memory. Little girl stuck out tongue acting spoiled, but smiled provocatively at me where mother couldn’t see. “But this big sister is mommy’s daughter, count as my sister, how she…” “She is not.” Mother held her hand, solemnly said: “I will only have you one daughter in future.” If before, hearing this sentence would definitely be sad. But now, I only feel fortunate. If mother only has her one child, that’s also quite good. At least knowing my death later, won’t be sad for me. I completely let go of obsession, suddenly grinned echoing. “Right, Auntie Penelope will only have you one daughter, you will definitely be happy.” Hearing “Auntie Penelope”, mother’s cold eyes froze, looked at me deeply. I couldn’t understand deep meaning in her eyes, I didn’t want to guess either. I am really too tired. In short three months haven’t slept a good sleep. Dad brought stepmother in second day after getting divorce certificate. Less than a week, my life changed earth-shakingly. I moved from second biggest bedroom to servant room, since then as long as father absent, I had to work with servants. I sought father for justice, but framed as lying. Stepmother rank too high, one face front one face back, father’s love gradually disappeared, I became lying essence he disgusted. Stepsister Harper relying on popularity, tried every way vent anger on me. School trash can I drilled, toilet I swept, their shoes I licked, slapped, poured dirty water, torn homework, even more common… At first teachers would stand up for me because of my excellent grades, later as I forgot homework, grades slid, classmates rumored, dirty every day, also unwilling manage me. Every day was torture to me. Could hold on so long, all relied on agreement that mother would take me to Hokkaido (maybe change to Disneyland or Paris) if I did well in SSATs. But just yesterday, no matter how I begged, even kowtowed knelt, right hand was smashed by Harper with stick hit by hit. I can’t write anymore, can’t take exam. Agreement can’t be fulfilled. Now I just want lie in a place, rest well permanently. Coincidentally, car horn sounded. My Uber arrived. I smiled goodbye to mother and Jojo. “Auntie Penelope, Jojo, goodbye.” Getting in car, mother suddenly chased up. I thought she had words, rolled down window. She opened mouth for long time, until driver impatiently stepped on gas, finally squeezed out few words. Pity my left ear already beaten deaf. Wind so big, I finally didn’t hear clear what mother said. I politely smiled nodded to her, waved hand. But still after her figure shrank to a dot, cried choking. Driver uncle seeing me cry so sad, thought drove too fast, busy apologized, tentatively opened mouth: “Little sister, is it words not finished, want talk to mom well again, uncle turn back send you back now.” Seeing me silent, he added sentence. “Money for turning back on uncle, I won’t charge you.” I wiped tears with sleeve, shook head. “Thanks uncle, no need.” But uncle still soft hearted turned back. Afraid mom misunderstand I pestering endlessly, I somewhat anxious, hurriedly spoke. “Mom has new daughter, she will be unhappy if I go, beg you turn back.” Driver uncle body paused, long sigh, turned car back again. “Child, don’t say so, which mom doesn’t love child, she must have difficulties, she…” “I know.” I wiped tears, smiling nodded. “I believe, Mom is always person loves me most, I also love Mom most.” “Besides, no matter what Mom did, I am okay.” Driver red eyes, repeatedly praised me good child. I disapproved. If I really good child… Mom wouldn’t see me so painful. Dad wouldn’t scold me liar again and again, say I have inferior genes in bone, say I can’t compare to stepsister no blood relation with him again and again. Even more wouldn’t no one come attend my parent meeting. Uncle gratified nodded, chatted about me going seaside again. Afraid discovered my real purpose, I told a small lie, said friend waiting me. He believed, put me down at location. Also gave me an apple. “Today Christmas Eve, eat apple safe and sound, girl, life is long, wait you grow up will find life has no hurdle can’t pass, know?” I bit apple, nodded heavily, lied again. “I will study hard, love myself well.” Driver uncle praised me smart, I waved to him. Watching him gradually far, conveniently finished apple, I then slowly stood up walked towards seaside. Walked to beach, water over ankle, father sent message. [Luna, did you go find your mom again, really natural born bitch seed, feed what also not familiar, only know turn elbow out!] [Since you like your mom so much, then don’t come back, me and your stepmom Harper go out eat, home locked, don’t come back!] [If you dare come back, not punish you kneel small shrine, but break your legs.] [Saw my message not, where are you, I command you reply immediately!] I didn’t want reply, but accidentally answered his video call. Seeing me at seaside, his face immediately sank. “Luna, what you running to seaside for?” Chapter 2 I expressionless answered. “Preparing to die.” He thought I telling lie, angered by me. “Fine ah, if you have guts go die now!” “Die I will even look you high one glance!” I hummed hung up phone, and sent an anonymous message to mom. [Goodbye.] Phone screen lit again. I didn’t look, threw into sea, plop jumped into sea. Water submerged nasal cavity, I seemed had a long dream. Mother in kitchen, cooking my favorite Sweet and Sour Ribs. Father diligently carving wood, carving our family of three. I look what father doing a while, run into kitchen ask mom when food ready a while. They said I am a little naughty ghost, scraped my nose. Food on table, father wood carving done, gave me as gift. I made wish before two-layer high cake. “Hope I can be this happy all life.” I accidentally read out birthday wish, amused dad mom laughing loud. I looked their faces, also followed laughing head back. Picture turned, I pulled by mother to villa back garden. Mountains and plains red dazzling roses. I excited scream. “Wow, Mom, why so many roses, where from ah, is it Dad sent?” Mother shy smile, scraped my nose. “Little smart ghost, this is 10th wedding anniversary gift Dad sent Mom.” “Later our Jojo want marry, also have to marry good man like Dad, then okay, know?” Looking mother heartfelt smile on face, I also followed smile. “Yes, Jojo later want marry man like Dad.” That afternoon, I pestered mom tell me story meeting dad. They childhood sweethearts, confirmed relationship in college. An accidental car accident, grandparents and victim passed away together. Dad because compensation victim, burdened hundreds thousands debt. To pay debt, he sold family only old house, since then penniless. After graduation, junior year father researched a program, urgent need money. Mother persuaded grandma grandpa, sold house gather money. Pity program not up, money all lost, grandpa heart attack gone, grandma stroke hospitalized. Most difficult time, father thought suicide, was mother supporting this home. Under mother encouragement, father regrouped, wind rose again. Since then, father career soared straight up, bigger and bigger. He unlike other sudden rich men keep mistress outside, instead better and better to mother and me. His phone no password, shares some transferred to mother, as long as holiday will stay home. To me, even more what want give what. He said I will be his only daughter. Our family three so good before, how parents no longer love, mother also don’t want me? I really can’t understand. Just pity. I no chance think understand. Trance, seemed someone talking to me. “Girl, girl, hold on ah.” “You so young, absolutely can’t die ah!” I struggled want open eyes, can’t open no matter how. Open eyes again, I floated to mother side. She lonely sat bed side, eyes unblinking staring message I sent, muttering to self. “What she mean, threatening me?” “I replied question mark, why not reply me? Could it be she really want suicide?” “No, she just mind deep, bully soft fear hard, no conscience, her heart only glory wealth, follow her dad don’t know how good live, how possible bear suicide!” Glory wealth? I touched chin serious recall three months following dad. Doing dirtiest work, eating least rice, sleeping least sleep, still beaten by people, not comparable to happiness with mom a bit. Such days, I don’t like at all. Mom didn’t hear my whisper, put down phone, while rubbing wrist, mouth reading want cook for Lily eat. Thinking mom skill comparable five star chef, my stomach grumbled once. Before jumping sea, although ate an apple, but punished kneel small shrine by dad, one day one night didn’t eat, still hungry. I bounce jump followed mom into kitchen, stood beside her watching her skillfully chop ribs. Even every chop used big strength, but eyes no fatigue. I stared mother demeanor, somewhat dazed, like back childhood. That time mother busy in kitchen, I eating snacks secretly watching her. “Jojo loves sugar, sweet sour ribs need add more sugar, she dislikes sesame, sesame not put.” “Besides sweet sour ribs, she also likes Roast Pork, need stew soft glutinous point.” I licked lips. So coincidence ah. I also love sweet sour ribs, also love roast pork, dislike add sesame… Same taste as Lily. Mother made another Braised Eggplant and Candied Sweet Potato, gathered four dishes then served table, called Lily eat. She happy da da da ran come, but seeing dishes on table smile gone. Mother detected wrong, asked her what wrong? Lily red eyes, tone extra wronged. “Mom, I don’t like eat sweet sour ribs, like braised, more dislike eat roast pork… last time I mentioned to you, why you forgot again…” Mother face flashed guilt, dryly said “Sorry”, want pour dishes re-cook. Lily grabbed her hand, eyes stubborn. “Is this that big sister favorite taste……? Mom… you actually never thought giving up big sister, you always missing her right!” Hearing this question, my heart involuntarily thump thump disorderly jump, unconsciously rose expectation again! Could it be like Lily said, mom actually always… “No, I didn’t.” “I just used to it.” She denied, forcefully hugged Lily into arms. “Jojo, mom adapt new life need time, many things, many habits, change need time, you have to believe mom, give mom point time okay?” “Anyway, mom this life only have you one daughter, no one can snatch.” Jojo satisfied hug back her. Watching this mother daughter harmonious scene, I touched heart. No uncomfortable like before, instead incomparably calm. Seem, I already slowly accepted fact mother no longer loves me, no longer indulge in past. Just then, mother phone rang. She accidentally clicked speaker, police serious voice sounded. “Hello, ask is Ms. Penelope?” A bad premonition ignited, mother supported table hold on, replied “I am”. Hearing affirmative answer, police subconsciously replied “Rest in peace” first then slowly narrated. “Just now, kind person called police, said your daughter jumped sea.” “Impossible, she is faking death, this little girl mind many very!” Mother pinched phone tight, cold face interrupted. “No, mom, I didn’t fake death, also no mind……” “Clearly before you praised me cutest, most kind innocent cute, why say I have mind ne!” I anxious explain to mother pounce her, but body passed through her. Looking transparent hand. I then suddenly remembered. I already died. Explain again, mother also can’t hear. She hates me more. I somewhat sad scratched hair, squatted in corner. Police thought she sad dare not accept truth, continued. “Kind person is driver drove your daughter to seaside afternoon, felt your daughter wrong, turned back save her, your child fished up sent hospital.” “But on road, she rescue invalid gone. You quickly go Third People Hospital morgue identify body.” Hearing these words, mother like pumped away strength, fell on ground. Phone clattered fell floor, police voice echoed in quiet space. “We contacted child father, he insisted say we liars, threw big temper, can you contact him come?” Mentioning father, mother numb eyes had reaction. She like stress, replied “Not familiar” then hung up. Police voice disappeared, replaced by Lily sobbing sound. She scared face pale, pounced mother arms, trembling said: “Mom…… this afternoon when sister came… I said words shouldn’t say… could she be listened me……” “No!” Mother pale face interrupted. Lily deaf ear, like drowned by guilt, mouth didn’t stop. “But I said let her go die… also said let her later don’t pester mom.” “Sister didn’t angry, even gave neck jade plaque to me, blessed me safe, also gave me a small notebook, on it recorded mom favorite things, she also……” “Enough, don’t say!” “I said all irrelevant to you, why you still say!” “You insist force me death, then happy?” Mother tore throat, face hideous interrupted. Lily scared by her ear piercing voice, open mouth dare not speak again, wronged look at her. Realizing self extreme, mother said “Sorry”, went Lily room took jade plaque and notebook, out gate, straight to car parked in garage. On way hospital, I always sat passenger seat turning head staring her face. I want see if she will cry for me. But stared my eyes sour, mother not a drop tear shed. She always looked front don’t know thinking what, lost soul. Have few times, clearly red light should stop, she still one foot gas went. Hospital gate, big truck straight go, she right turn almost crashed. I scared scream, let mom stop. Lucky brake timely, then escaped disaster. Truck driver same scared jump, poked head scold her. “Is family dead person, or rushing reincarnate, life don’t want?” I thought mother won’t care, but she lost control opened door scold back. “Go your mom, mouth clean point, your family then died person……” She said end, suddenly squatted cover face bitter cry. “Your… family… then died person!” “My family… people… all good!” Driver scolded “Neurotic”, one foot gas left. I stood behind mom, mood somewhat complex. Dear mom, are you sad for me? I want step forward hug her, want tell her is myself decided go die, don’t sad. And I died, more relaxed. Just like now, can still follow her side. She can’t see, I won’t cause burden. She already stood up wiped tears, entered car one foot gas drove into hospital. Hospital morgue, driver uncle carried me before didn’t leave. He wet all over, eye rims red. Knew woman dressed magnificent front is my mom, he red eyes excited pointed her scold. “You this mom how so cruel, same are your daughters, why you favor one over other?” He pulled her hand, dragged her to me, pointed scabbed wounds. “Which family girl like her, whole body whip marks, no place good meat, this how painful ah!” Mother gently pushed up my clothes. Looking new wounds old wounds at belly, boom sound paralyzed on ground. “No… how like this?” Driver uncle sneered, raised my right hand again, ring finger and index finger present strange twisted shape. “Look right hand, just now doctor said, this is smashed broken by someone hit by hit!” “Also right leg, comminuted fracture!” He pointed my dirty terrible school uniform jacket again. “What kind child, looks pretty, wears dirty, full body wounds, what life she lives ah!” “This child like this, in car still said you are good mom, she loves you.” “Do you know, me and my wife to want a child, till now still doing IVF, you have such good, such obedient girl, why not cherish, why not treat her well?” He cried too devoted, caused doctors passersby at door all red eyes, pointing at mother. Listening their accusing words, I anxious turn circles. Hurt me, harm me is my dad, what relation with mom, not her business ah…… Seeing more and more people accuse mother, I guilty extreme. If I die another day. Will they not anger mother. I ran to mother side, low voice said “Sorry.” Mother very strange. She didn’t angry because accusation, instead incomparable serious promised to people claiming justice for me: “You right, I didn’t do well what a mother should do.” “I will figure out what happened to daughter, will revenge people bullied her.” “But now, I need space alone with her, can you go out?” Crowd even angry again also shut mouth, driver uncle closed door. I thought mother had words say to me, but she wordless just stared me. Half hour, one hour, two hours… two half hours…… Until dawn. She stood up also just kissed my forehead, nothing said. After this day, she side prepared my funeral, side asked private detective find reason I injured. Three days later, she got evidence straight to father company.

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